Intruded from nowhere, the SG site just popped on my screen after some casual google research on 72 years old transexual having some mean... eerrrrm.
After a quick look, it definitively splashed out from the casual crowd of boards and suchs... Let's give it a try. If i don't get laid i don't pay...
6/05/05 Great moments in paris, from the 2012 contest for olympic games till the government changes, artistic life gets a renew through a few exhibition, through several underground galleries thourghout Paris. A contre sommet of chic had been opened by two graph.schools' students, and a large carroussel had been squatted for exposing and creating purposes... can't wait to see the result but i guess the CRS (anti riots and exhibition police squad, the robocop type with shields and helmets wearing huge sticks and looking like some Brazil cop...) will get us out of there asap... They like beating up student, that morons, not like the suburbs kids that throw stones to them or shoot at them, students are rather pacifists...
the first creations are worthwile the time spent freezing my ass outside chainsmoking. Some urban and popart thingies. some drunk jamaican guy standing right at the door tred to make me pay something as a fee... one of the local artist I knew just kicked him out of there when he heard him. Finally I discovered the guy was just a customer looking for some extra booze.. or psychedelics.
Since i still can't remind the pieces now, i had to flush my sorrow away, and just switched off five bistrots on the way back. The guy, Sandro, had the time to expose his great interest into the san-salvadorian politics concerning the recyclable garbages and tells it as an international exemple. I had to switch him off too with some highly spiced Absinthe liquor flammed right in the mouth... Never sweet talk with drunk artists. Art is dead. Wharol was a god. And was it really a shit inside the cans?, for the few things i caught up.
Some friends got hooked by Starfuckers party, where we could had seen Jiaokeli and her gf swirling on the dancefloor. 42 and still jamming around. Many german girls were there too.
Renan introduced me the group, four delicious german mates unfortunately french speaking enough tounderstand our plans for the night... we finish the night off at their house: menu du soir: electro underground boche, classic music and le gros rouge qui tache.
Renan melted it with zubrowka and finally faded away with one of the bavaran chicks...
The girl i chose was named Nele Harsomething. A beautiful small brunette, with shining black eyes and ivory skin. After some time she told me about her job and how she was doing documenntaries for the german tv. Last one: the bolimfunk or something like that, a forbidden music from the favelas; she managed to interview some of the guys doing the party and musician. Where the hiphop and rap sins with their excess of 'bling bling, mtherfuckrs btches' ans uch, the bolimfunk just play on the favelas stories, the sex and the everyday tenderness and nostalgy that can be found into the cuban songs (i think of Ibrahim ferrer songs).
she left me her mssn adress which revealed to be unavailable...
Back to my pit. On a Sunday morning; 8.00 am.
Now monday. And I still can't recall what i did between the two. maybe i just slept. But i still got that heat sensation that barely gives me ideas of sticking lit up ciggies up my ears to stop it.
After a quick look, it definitively splashed out from the casual crowd of boards and suchs... Let's give it a try. If i don't get laid i don't pay...
6/05/05 Great moments in paris, from the 2012 contest for olympic games till the government changes, artistic life gets a renew through a few exhibition, through several underground galleries thourghout Paris. A contre sommet of chic had been opened by two graph.schools' students, and a large carroussel had been squatted for exposing and creating purposes... can't wait to see the result but i guess the CRS (anti riots and exhibition police squad, the robocop type with shields and helmets wearing huge sticks and looking like some Brazil cop...) will get us out of there asap... They like beating up student, that morons, not like the suburbs kids that throw stones to them or shoot at them, students are rather pacifists...
the first creations are worthwile the time spent freezing my ass outside chainsmoking. Some urban and popart thingies. some drunk jamaican guy standing right at the door tred to make me pay something as a fee... one of the local artist I knew just kicked him out of there when he heard him. Finally I discovered the guy was just a customer looking for some extra booze.. or psychedelics.
Since i still can't remind the pieces now, i had to flush my sorrow away, and just switched off five bistrots on the way back. The guy, Sandro, had the time to expose his great interest into the san-salvadorian politics concerning the recyclable garbages and tells it as an international exemple. I had to switch him off too with some highly spiced Absinthe liquor flammed right in the mouth... Never sweet talk with drunk artists. Art is dead. Wharol was a god. And was it really a shit inside the cans?, for the few things i caught up.
Some friends got hooked by Starfuckers party, where we could had seen Jiaokeli and her gf swirling on the dancefloor. 42 and still jamming around. Many german girls were there too.
Renan introduced me the group, four delicious german mates unfortunately french speaking enough tounderstand our plans for the night... we finish the night off at their house: menu du soir: electro underground boche, classic music and le gros rouge qui tache.
Renan melted it with zubrowka and finally faded away with one of the bavaran chicks...
The girl i chose was named Nele Harsomething. A beautiful small brunette, with shining black eyes and ivory skin. After some time she told me about her job and how she was doing documenntaries for the german tv. Last one: the bolimfunk or something like that, a forbidden music from the favelas; she managed to interview some of the guys doing the party and musician. Where the hiphop and rap sins with their excess of 'bling bling, mtherfuckrs btches' ans uch, the bolimfunk just play on the favelas stories, the sex and the everyday tenderness and nostalgy that can be found into the cuban songs (i think of Ibrahim ferrer songs).
she left me her mssn adress which revealed to be unavailable...
Back to my pit. On a Sunday morning; 8.00 am.
Now monday. And I still can't recall what i did between the two. maybe i just slept. But i still got that heat sensation that barely gives me ideas of sticking lit up ciggies up my ears to stop it.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
ancolie:
THANX SWEETIE have a nice evening
ancolie:
nice to know u mel....