Tic tac toc

Le temps passe sournoisement.
J’essaye en vain de transformer mes larmes en notes.
Plus le temps passe, plus les souvenirs s’engouffrent au plus profond de mon antre.
La tempête a laissé place à un brouillard épais et dense. Je ne distingue plus rien, je ne vois plus mes pieds, je m’enfonce dans ce monde qui m’englouttit.
Je ne suis plus que l’ombre d’un doute. Oui, le temps passe. Tout se mélange, tout s’entrelace.
Des bancs d’écoles aux bancs des rues. Ne laisse pas la vie t’avaler tout cru.
Je tente de lire entre les lignes. Je contemple mon reflet dans ma guitare. Je lui demande “sais-tu seulement ce que tu veux dire?”
Oui, je veux dire que la victoire n’appartient pas à ceux qui blessent par manque de connaissance de soi, par fierté, par domination, par égoïsme, par monopole, par jalousie.
Je veux dire qu’on peut être soi-même et être apprécié et respecté.
Je veux dire que même si la vie est loin d’être un conte de fée et qu’on t’a assomé de mensonges, et bien on peut quand même construire quelque chose de magnifique et s’élever au-dessus des nuages, snober la pluie, les éclairs n’atteignent pas ceux qui ont trouvé le calme neutre dans la sagesse, la connaissance du monde, l’acceptation de soi.
Comment donner quand on m’a tant volé?
Les jours s’écoulent, toujours les mêmes, donner, aider, contre l’argent qui permet de vivre et profiter de ce que le monde a à offrir.
Je me pensais dotée de 1001 choses à réaliser. Parmi elles, changer le monde oui mais par où commencer.
A l’aveugle, à l’inconnu, téméraire je me suis lancée.
Je suis peut-être en perte de vitesse mais je ne compte pas m’arrêter!


Why FANS are NOT fans anymore

I never bought into the whole hysteric screaming pool of people that seem they wanna rip the artist’s clothes off and feed off his flesh.
Have I experienced insane love for an artist, his words, and all the world that s/he creates ? Yes, of course, otherwise I wouldn’t be so passionate about what I am doing myself!
I am not here to judge anyone personally but many times I felt that the infatuation around an artist stemmed more from an obsession for his success and status as an iconic trend, rather than his actual words or music, the actual meaning of his actions and stance.

So, I was thinking, the other day… and this is what came out of my thought process.
(* the academically inclined shall be warned that I will do a couple oversimplifying statements)

Back in the day, as an artist you interacted with the people out there through old school media appearances, on TV & Radio. It was like a one way street.
Today, your “fans” are now engaged in your everyday life: you share with them the place you ate at noon and they comment back to you on the food they saw you had in the picture.
Very much like you would have done with a friend who lives at distance, with whom you try and keep in touch. They know you “personally” but without ever having given you a hug.
The relationship with your “fans” can be of a better quality, you don’t have to wait for and carefully structure a media interview, you can go ahead and express yourself to your fans through direct connection. They love you for who you ARE in everyday life, not only on stage. And you love them for who they are, as you can check out their world too, randomly click on their facebook page, answer back to their comments, thank them for their support and encouragement, compliment them on their own (artistic) endeavors.

For this reason, I think the word FAN seems outdated as it was born in and refers to a pre-internet time where the music industry was structured differently. You don’t want to consider them as a hysteric unaware crowd manipulated by the old school mogul mass media. But you can’t put them in the same bag as the handful of people you grew up with, who know first-hand how grumpy you are in the morning or how you smell after a night out.

So, as usual, I got a silly idea and decided to make up a new word : FRANS, a hybrid mix between “fans” and “friends”.
Haha I don’t know about you, but it makes me laugh and a laugh is always good to share. Point made.

When the ship sails away

You’d think, after all that time spent just dreaming about it…
You’d think, after all that courage that it took to gather for it…
You’d think that once my ship was ready to sail away, that I’d be cutting through the waves, like the favorite of the race.
Filled with the joy to admire the sea at every sunrise and every sunset.

But after building my ship all alone, in the backyard of my head, I didn’t think I’d still have to blow into my own sail.
It also takes some doing to get the wind to be on your side, to have the wind in your sails.
Some clever manipulation. Some ingenious strategy. An adapted itinerary.
Seems like I can’t read the map. Like I can’t find out how to get where I want to.

Tired. Need someone to blow me offshore.