Les activités parallèles

A secret notebook of subtweeted dialects of an electric city where the blues were always encoded but never sung’ — Anne Boyer, Money City Sick As Fuck I. Since I’ve been working in a stationery shop in a big city somewhere between the financial district the entertainment one and the historic centre I’ve stopped trying to read the future in the lines of my hand instead I read the future in the lines drawn by customers I never write myself all I do is collect looking for lucky numbers tomorrow’s weather clues to an upcoming uprising or some kind of epiphany you see I have a thing for signs I’ve always thought that between the thick and thin strokes there might be something hidden that I’m sure will eventually make the headlines I’m not so interested in all the scribbles bad poetry and intertwined initials I just want to know what tomorrow will be made of II. Hello my name is Y and I love X I like to write their name everywhere I want to write them a letter to tell them that just a few minutes ago I thought I smelt their perfume in one of the streets that led me here that I've got it bad that they give me the chills that all the songs of the world remind me of X that life is hard life is hard life is hard that I know their phone number by heart and that sometimes I simply thinking about the contours of the letters and figures for hours X X X X X moves me and drives me crazy I just want to write the name of my lover everywhere and eventually make it my home III. ♥‿♥ ♥‿♥ ♥‿♥ <« (((<3 #%%%%%X%X______°°°°° IV. I like metrics measures and laws I'm looking for the perfect tool extension of my hand to sign this agreement I need that in-the-lines precision I'm looking for the ink to formulate the promise of my best intentions for the tool that will make it all perfect I fear a cramp in my wrist could hinder the initialing of my success I get off to seeing my name become a seal I have a sharp sense of economy and risk my gamble is successful it's like one of those dreams that only comes true once or twice in a lifetime V. I'm simply trying to sharpen my line make it grind make it flow turning it in one direction then in another like a hoop that slides from one hip to the other hula and then hoop on the paper I like to feel the ballpoint gliding across the paper it's between the scratch and the caress it's carnal it calls for touch it keeps the hand busy it goes much beyond the alphabet maybe words fail me but I prefer to sketch shapes and lines the hoop slides the pen slides it hypnotises me I make the tide go down and then make it go back up again VI. There's a sort of symbol sign slogan always lurking in the corners and angles I don't know if this place where no one really reads anything but everyone can read everything laid bare is the right place to leave false calculations or real coordinates in the shadow of political machines maybe it's a secret and rather revolutionary project maybe even a bit violent a bit dangerous but after all who would even think about looking at these pieces of paper to see if there might be some clues and yet it seems that as soon as you put a puzzle together suddenly new pieces go missing