The Last Day of a Condemned

This morning, dawn. Capital Punishment. "Let us call it by the name which, for lack of any other nobility, will at least give the nobility of truth, and let us recognize it for what it is essentially: a revenge" - Albert Camus

Saddam's last steps to the scaffold were filmed. They shot him til he was hung. If human justice is about satisfying the winners, what kind of justice is it? Mr Bush said that killing Saddam will help establishing democracy - quite a syllogism.

Fear. Small. Man. Society must avenge itself, society must punish. Like beasts. No transparency. Lack of justice. Souls' poverty.

Link the Birds

When I imagine the ideal music label, I see a pantheon of my favorite artists, a bunch of boys and girls who come from different countries, musical backgrounds and atmospheres. In real life, they've never met, but in my cd book, they're on the first page, looking deeply into each other's eyes/music. Then I imagine the most unexpected duets, mixing harmonies and cultures: Manu Chao meets Cake, The White Stripes shout while Charlotte Gainsbourg whispears, Jack Johnson giggles with Tribalistas, Seu Jorge cheers Shivaree up, Regina Spektor tries to make her voice bigger than Youssou N'Dours', Souad Massi and Ben Harper fall in love.

In my room, Emily Loizeau and Andrew Bird live on the same shelf, and I like them both the same way: a lot - even more. Suddenly, "Planes at night protect us from flowers" meets "I watched waterbugs skate memories, like mohair sweaters". But this time, it's not only a distraction of the mind, it's real! Andrew came along with his violin when Emily recorded her first album. And now, she comes along with her piano when he is touring in Europe.

Then I got interested in Fargo, that dreamed label that actually exists - they signed both Emily and Andie, that's why... I met all their kiddos, from Neal Casal to Alamo Race Track, Shearwater and Clem Side. Loizeau and Bird remain the most accomplished it's true: I've always been impressed by the way some musicians manage to frame their sweet madness, making it reachable and adorable.

'luck birdies.

Il est presque né le divin enfant...

... pendant que nous restons desespéremment humains.

Dans quelques journaux européens, le 24 décembre 2006. L'Iran bien sûr qui doit cesser d'agiter son uranium sous l'oeil inquiet de l'assemblée des représentants de l'ONU. Le Monde parle de "provocations iraniennes" et d'une ONU décridibilisée, critiquée par la Chine, la Russie et par les Etats-Unis qui à l'inverse des deux précédents trouvent la sanction insuffisante. Quant à l'Iran, elle dénonce une mesure illégale. De toute évidence, une menace à l'entente diplomatique mondiale. Sur le même sujet, le Guardian demeure plus mesuré "it should be seen as an interim step towards a full travel ban if Iran fails to comply" et fait allusion aux risques courus par Israel à la suite de cette résolution.

Dans El Pais, on parle de José Luis García Sabrido, chirurgien en chef de l'hôpital public de Gregorio Marañón de Madrid, parti jeudi dernier au chevet de Fidel Castro. Guettons le gaiement?

Une image pieuse dans La Reppublica, Benoit XVI les bras levés mais pas pour le Christ. Une autre sorte de martyre, Piergiorgio Welby. Atteint de dystrophie musculaire et enchaîné à son lit depuis 1997, il avait demandé le droit de mourrir, un recours jugé irrecevable. Dimanche dernier, on l'a débranché à sa demande. L'Eglise lui refuse des osèques religieuses alors les hommes se sont réunis pour le fêter eux mêmes, paiens, aujourd'hui dimanche 24 décembre, le jour de la naissance du "sauveur". Ce soir Benoit XVI dans son bénédicité, demandera la paix.

JOYEUX NOEL!

Chronique déambulatoire

Je gare souvent ma voiture villa Borghese, c'est plus pratique pour aller dans le centre, car c'est ingarrable. I don't know what that means. What is the point? Una sopa di verdura per favore... Qu'est-ce que c'est? J'ai pas peur du noir. I think I miss London. I miss London. I miss London. I'm cold but it's not that cold. Une fontaine. Elle n'a pas de tête la statue. Qui c'est? Who is it? Quien es? Mama was queen of the mambo. Oi...er... ciao...er... voce fala ingles? Nao nao nao.... Per favore, parla francese? Spagnolo? Niente? Parla, no? It's not a bad idea to rent a car, but then I'm gonna be advertising those silly things on my car. What if I don't agree? What if it's totally uncool? Do people se sacrifie when they do this kind of choses? Piazza delle Muse, dove si trova? Dove si trova la piaza delle muse? Lawrence, Valentina, Louis, Viola, Matan, Cecilia, Audrey est tombée amoureuse d'un Italien de Rome. Principesa, caffé principesa? I know I shouldn't be wearing my hat, it's not that cold, yesterday it was 18 degrees in Roma. Roma, Roma, Roma! Cazzo. Caffé. Pyramide ce soir, concert de jazz. Trop fatigée. Every monkey'd like to be in my place instead of me. Je veux retrouver la librairie pres de la piazza venezia je crois. What do I buy? I want to buy a book? Should I ask him what book I can buy? Piazza del Popolo, what other name? You smeel people, do you smell it? The floor and the spontanéité des gens. De l'air narquois, qui vole, qui vibre. Spontanéité. Spontanéité. Indifférence. Beau, Beautiful, Bellissimo. I'm tired. I think. A glass of water, oh yes, a glass of water. Two. Three. O'clock rock. I'm going to stand there and watch. I'm sitting in front of the Gallerie delle arti. I'm smoking a cigarette. I'm free now. I'm free and a little low, because it often goes together. Free is lonely, lonely is low? Low is..? Rome how do they not get lost? I don't know. The streets are so tournicotantes. Aix, tu te souviens? C'était pareil, j'étais always lost in the streets. I'm too bad. Nobody knows fortunately.

In Bristol

Calais Sands at Low Water, Turner.
As alcohol was still poisoning my veins, I stopped in different places of the city, watching people going down the streets with their Christmas bags. Waiting there for time to die.

At 4.30pm I was in a pub reading The Girl who Plays Go by Shan Sa . I saw those letters put together:

"Yes, soul's vanity is death"

It is always a shock to see someone else writing for you something you would never be able to even think of. Your hell is the one of others.

Almost definitely the beginning of an end

2006, not a year for dictators. It smells like it's the end of a certain world. Some are truely affected, some just see it as a headline of a newspaper. Some know that it's a big deal, but yet don't realise it. I'm thinking of Mr. Hernandez, my Spanish teacher from Cuba.

I was running in this pool of... shit. At the bottom, were lying corpses and I knew that my friend was among them. I couldn't find him. The smell was so horrible it would make me give up on him. This is how he won, the dictator. Stronger than me, stronger than all the rest. Full of cleverness and cruelty. He got us all. You would never win. You would be able to get a better life, escaping to Miami, and me to Paris. But you wouldn't win. You would be a coward. To fight a dictator, you've got to be one.

I suppose the end will only be completed when these generations of cowards stop living with their guilt. That is to say when they are all gone, back to the center of the earth, where it all began. One day, in a few centuries, the dictator will be forgotten. Then only he will stop winning.

2 pairs of eyes in the London Tornado

At 2.30 pm yesterday, P and I were in Kensal Rise, London, after the tornado hit the area.

Gathering with the press, the well dressed journos, we tried our best to be taken seriously, shouting everywhere we could "French Press! French Press! AFP!" - my favorite lie - and it worked quite well until P started to feel guilty and admitted we were students. Because we both look like we're 12 years old, press officers, policemen, witnesses, a woman who was in one of the damaged houses, the lib dem leader of Brent council pitied us and agreed to be interviewed. For one of the interview, other journos gathered around us and our minusculus tripod to film our man. That was pride! The group manager also agreed to take us on a private tour to one of the damaged houses.

One funny story was when we attended the press conference. We managed to set our equipment right in front of the stage, close to the big TV crews. Our mini tripod + videocam felt like some old and proud veteran standing by those giant cameras. P left to call the French TV and I was on my own dealing with the mic issues... The other journos had put their big hairy ones on the table and we just had the little clip mic. So I had no choice... I discretely plugged our one-million-kilometer-long cable into the camera, then to the mini mic (what was the most ridiculous, the cable or the mic??) and stepped towards the table to drop it delicately on one of those gigantic mics... I thank the other journos for a/ Not laughing at me b/ Pretending that it was common practise c/ Pretending that they hadn't seen anything!

We ended our evening in the Royal British legion where the people living in the damaged houses had been relocated. Most of the press had their vans nearby and journos were wearing ties and tuxedos. We arrived there after a long and cold walk, getting lost three times before meeting the holly stable.

It was a great experience, and (not surprisingly) we learnt more in one day than in 3 months. Working in a rush, worrying about the footages. Making phone calls and trying to sell our story abroad was also a bit of a challenge, and we found out how NOT to do it!

Deconstructing and Feeling

"LET'S DECONSTRUCT THE NEWS!". One of the sentences which has stroken me the most this month, "DECONSTRUCT, people... remember that you have to DE-CONS-TRUCT". So in the last four weeks I've been deconstructing absolutely everything I had in front of me, from the BBC1 news bulletin, to the platform of Northwick Park tube station. It is true that you get to understand your environment much better, through an almost scientifical point of view, like if you were some sort of engineer.

I realised that deconstructing was one of the most useful observation technique, and probably the most efficient way to improve your own skills. I teach French to a 25 year old English girl, and I began to use that 'deconstruction' thing in my lessons. I recently noticed that people who only speak English find it really hard to learn another language because their mothertongue is not as logic as other indo-european languages can be. I go to an Italian class in London, and I can see that it's a long and complex process to make them get the gender and number rules for example. So my objective was to make sure that my student could understand the mechanisms of French language. I was struggling sometimes to make her accept the idea that you have to say "she" in French when refering to a table or a house... Sounds silly? In fact it is (relatively) logical. So today I thought: let's start from the beginning, and as I had this hallucination that my TV lecturer's face was appearing through the window, I told her "LET'S DECONSTRUCT!". And so we did, and so it worked. She saw the light emanating from the verbs, subjects, accusatives and circonstances laying in the sentences. And then she smiled with satisfaction.

Of Mice and Men

There are mice in our house. It had to happen considering the detestable attitude of 3 of my housemates when it comes to washing up matters. I could write a very long post about that growing pile of old and crusty cutlery shining over the sink - that can only be pleasant to watch when the sun's beams caress our magnificent window - or about my numerous attempts to educate those depraved students I share this house with, but that would make me a little dejected and even more stressed that I already am.

So, some interesting facts about Mus Musculus. DID YOU KNOW THAT mice are attracted by water, have massive fests in your kitchen when you're asleep, and could easily live there (if you're not an anorexic soja milk addict) for almost a year? Wikipedia and the mouse-man who came in this morning say so. When he came in my room, I told him I hadn't seen any, to which he replied "HO HO! Have you seen that big hole in your floor? I bet plenty of them are waiting for you to turn of your lights! Do you keep food here?". I didn't reply to that question... but started picturing in my mind this mountain of French cooking chocolate bars hidden in my cupboard, on top of which a bottle of Martini has been standing enthroned.

This afternoon I received this text: "Hey Vic, I'll b home at 9ish 4 the house meetin. Also i have a feeling that Vitas, Lee n Louise will try 2 argue theyre not that messy n Hannahs not there 2 bk us up so will u help me make sure ppl know they HAVE 2 b tidy? xx". I thought it was kind of sweet but quickly realised I was in a dramatically sad situation. She then sent me: "Vitas is always suspicious. did u hear about the time he flushed noodles down the toilet downstairs?". This is just to give a broad idea of the kind of freakshows I live with. Mice are not the only ennemies...

One other revolting issue is the attitude of the landlord. Apparently in England the tenants have all the rights. When on our housemate summit meeting we talked about calling the Health and Environment Services to back up our claim when facing the landlord, my junky housemate (less high than usual) said we would be considered responsible for the state of the house, even if half of us has just moved in, even if the mice have been gnawing our house for at least 6 years. Debate among housemates. Then war. The landlord living in Ireland and being more busy with the reproduction of his sheeps, we'll have to deal with those disgusting issues on our own. I say: we must investigate and be more self-confident. But I was so passionately involved in the conversation, my speech turned into toad's spit, just like when David asks me "What's your stand up?" and I have to reply very quickly.

The point is (as V would say) we are students and we shoudln't be too demanding they say in the landlords' paradise. When we earn money and start paying our loans back, then we can look for a decent house, a decent life, have the right to take pride for the place we live in, respect the others, respect ourselves etc. Until then, we have to live with mice.