The phone rings fixed.
And I do not like.
me I am modern, this is it, and for this reason, I'm reachable on a communications machine that I carry, ie which is portable since I am only wearing it myself and there all day and it seems they must be reachable all the time.
For me, it is quite impossible I discuss. When I am home, it's not about life, good, bad, or as long as I know, horizontally, and when I'm home, it is to be home me.
.
A clarification is needed here. To mark how
. this opinion is final and oh no I will return it.
But the landline rings. Anyway.
I do not know the tone, then I start looking for an alarm clock that I covered up yesterday, with the idea to trick me to get me myself and therefore find it out of my bed . This hypothesis is quickly discredited by the eye as I lay on time: 1:31.
But I do not wake up at that hour, or at least: not yet. Or at least not that I know.
And then here is undeniable, let us face facts: the telephone base flashing with the same alacrity that would put a hard boiled egg to bounce the bottom of a pan when cooked, I am forced to admit that's it: it's the phone. So the fixed telephone. Me
fixed his phone yelling like that, hiding under the duvet, with its hungry eyes without embarrassment.
What he does, then I wonder, and when was the last time I used it, all that. It's amazing what the mind is capable of producing as thought the time to 4 rings.
then propose two possibilities for themselves:
-let it ring and answering the question about which villain in Malfa.
or
-answer and take the incredible risk of not being able to cut short thanks to the usual strategies that are to claim to have no battery or not to capture or to fly the plane to snatch good. San
count at that these hours, it's pretty unlikely that my partner is one of those villains who would blackball easily sell me double glazing or lots of encyclopaedias, working to piss me off + +, either, but not at night, anyway .
Ok, it breathes and it picks up, it's as simple as that, let's go, you're heading. "
I do not know the voice, I do not know the name but I recognize that feeling of danger, latent, unknown burning attractive as the emptiness of a cliff of Etretat.
I know that it's not worth anything good.
-... So! Manon. My name Vincent, in fact. And I was wondering if you had a little time to discuss ...
-...
"You hear me?
-Er, yes. Yes, yes.
But you do not listen to me?
-Er, no. Not too much, no.
Why?
Why? Well, perhaps because it is past midnight, I do not know you, you arrive home a shot without warning by knowing my name and that, as I explained above, nobody does it we do not call me home if I do not have clearly articulated the desire. For example.
you explain this or that, above?
-Highest in the text.
-In what ... ? Ah! you also have psychological problems?
My heart is racing, even if it did it often, every time it bothers me a bit more, which has the effect of putting her gum even more, and it never stops. Some days, my life resembles nothing so much as a snake would bite the tail. A viper snake. It's not a pretty sight, I tell you that.
I said
psychological disorders ... Well, what next? Who does not? Should already be half dead not to be psy-cho-lo-gi-than-ment reached, would be not to grieve for marble ten times a day, at least as much to rebel and give up too, somewhat more affected, perhaps ruined, let us mad. It is a sign of health than being a tad sick, that's what I think.
Quite simply, if I did not maintain my good humor and sarcasm with my tiger balm, daily, top to bottom with emphasis on the areas concerned, if I was not laughing at all, I'd Maboule . If you have no humor today, we can not be a terrorist.
Actually, no, I dare not say all that, I am content: How does
-psychological disorders? No, indeed, I mean, how does "me too" I have psychological problems? You mean you do, you?
"I told you, miss, I get out of jail and treatment of horses. So if I did not really do before, I am assured of having today.
He said that? I not heard. My heart is racing even more clearly, he thinks he's Dave Grohl.
"Wait, uh ...
Vincent Vincent, listen. I'm not. There. Bon.J 't have any particular problems with the prison, people who leave, those who fall ... m'enfin good when one of them calls me home when I do not know ...
-You do not understand.
-Bah what I understand is that it's weird, now that I never speak in this phone is fixed and everything, I usually to be ... I dunno ... in the street when I'm on the phone, I tell you plainly, I think you're in my living room. And I have known for agreeable sensations nothing to hide.
-You do not understand.
"But stop telling me that's not you who understand. You are in my house, there in my life. Y'aa enough noise like that without you, I swear. No disrespect to you but still, shit.
Do not be rude.
-... Pshaw! Wow. Blowin that you give me lessons now.
-Ca do not, vulgarity, that's all.
-Oh great, I know the type, you know me a little as if you read me a bit as if I were an open book, and indeed like all women, right? You think chicks who smoke and drink and swear, it sucks, right? You are fallen ill: it occupies precisely 3 / 4 of my time. Knowing that the 4th quarter is devoted to laugh at humanity and sleep. So you see, find someone else to tell your stories of soap.
But, you are very aggressive and I do not understand.
Ah I thought it was ME who did not understand, should know.
-...
-Ok. Well, listen. This is called a sterile conversation, I'm going to leave you, I'm out of battery.
And shit.
"You do not understand, I struggled to find you.
of evil-as: type a name in the yellow pages and fall on my number? Not because right now, precisely, I avoid a pre-pubescent teenager who hounds my one and zero, which no longer amuses me too much and he did not sought or found, or had trouble or I do not know what his parents had the misfortune of leaving a trail a directory and it annoys me. Point.
Ah, a teen harassing you?
Yes, it's a hell on legs. He has a voice of castra means that bubbles acne, you're saying. And he means stuff pigs, but he has not made, stuff chickens he is just ... boring.
"I see.
-What you see is that you have just reinforce the idea of passing on the red list and yet you see, is something that I refused to do, "go on red list". I'm not the president publicly, it's absurd, I have no reason to get shots of bewildered son of life who want me to spoil my life. Finally it's what I thought. The proof is, I was wrong.
"I'm the proof?
-Do not play with words, for someone coming out of prison, I find that limit.
He laughed, the guy.
"I had not even thought of, well, I'll see you there!
Did he just found?
"You find me anything, I wish you good night and you leave me alone until the end of the world.
-I frighten you?
-... You almost, yes, but there you go to another topic: how could you NOT to worry? The fact that you do not design m'abasourdit annoyance. So you do not make me more afraid, you m'enquiquinez. Put yourself in my place a bit.
Very well, yes, no, I mean, I understand.
-Bon here, fine, then er ... Magic, good evening, and then I'll hang up.
And you treat all your players the same way?
My readers? Therefore wish. Who does he take me to? Is he confused me with someone who writes, someone great, someone from the academy, which would have received an award, who knows Pivot, which has its cheesy photo on the back cover, which , who, who ... for whom does he take me?
-Well, listen, (I scraped my throat and takes an air of a princess, or, in any case, the air I guess the most befitting for a princess) not. Not at all. But here you see I'm busy.
When you take a look, tone naturally follows is something that I give you because I am generous in nature: -> take a look of princess and spontaneously you will have a valuable speech than you know not even. It works every time.
-Ah yes? You're what?
-Well, it's a bit indiscreet as a question but I'll answer you: I'm using a novel, yet. Ie ... no, not "yet" but "always" to be precise.
I stand before my mirror, the audience is at max, people called to say that no author has ever been so relaxed in front of his worldwide success, everyone zap for me, I lower the light to try to find me a lot there, I'm not bad I'm better than not bad I say, the world is mine, so your swing and your bits of paper Preum 'back cover' as they say, I'm hot for a little session spelling, er sorry, hi hi, joke writer, I meant "autograph."
I could not live this situation with a cell phone in the street, sure.
-Oh because you write novels? That is, I feel reassured, and finally, reassure me is a big word, not because I was worried, but I was wondering if you were a little effort what, something really, well, built.
-Huh? What? What ...
Princesses do not speak like that, Manon, princesses do not repeat the princesses do not pure onomatopoeia with their mouths, the princesses are not taken by surprise, the princesses are good fun of you at the time it is.
I do absolutely nothing to this conversation. Is this just a conversation? Who I'm where I'm going is what remains of the wine?
I find it all very promising, is all.
Pivot encourages me with his air of great grandfather, he too is promising me, obviously, he invites me an unmistakable pout to go, thinking that yes, indeed, I am "kind of very promising."
Yes, thank you, that what has been said about me.
Not sure sure of my shot, I add:
-Finally, especially in the critical New York, in fact, you see.
I sweat.
Do princesses sweat? No? Even when they make love? If
Pivot could also tell me what kind of writer with the criminal confuses me, deprive me of it a thorn in the foot flat.
"Here then I just wondered if you need contacts or I do not know numbers, for, you see ... meet people. Local people.
contacts me? My boy, I did it, contacts, I overflow, I do not know what to do, and it was I who finally become the contact with others, then frankly, your contacts ...
-Contacts? Well, yes, why not.
-Not because I know the blog is still quite an art in question, and I think yours deserves look, there's something to do, that's why I'm glad to know that you are in fact already published novels. Where can I find them? You give me references?
-My blog??
"Yes, your blog.
Pivot, the audience, my mistakes autographs, everything, everything collapses in a puddle of noise roughly equivalent to what could have been the amount water that my tears should not occur if I keep the face there.
ouiiiiii Ah, of course, you mean "my blog!
Yes ... ? Ben, your blog, yes.
Yes, yes yes yes.
Keep facing the phone, it's still easier.
-...
Yes yes yes. Yes.
Anyway.
-So, what you give me references of your novels? I can tell you, I am what they call a huge fan, and I assume eh. In fact, it's funny, after 5 years in prison, I had much left, good conduct, all that, and I've been assistant professor of French and through that, I had access to the internet. I do not know how, I came across your blog ... expression is stale, but that is what the best image that I felt at that moment, you put me a slap. Return.
Ah yes.
Without question mark, no exclamation point, not a "ah yes nothing like that, neutral, Swiss, disillusioned and arms dangling, a " ah yes 's one desire is to be left alone and he can go home to bed. Ah yes. I wipe my
floor, washing my ego takes a bath humiliation.
-You seem .... elsewhere ...
-Pffff
Too bad, I say everything, I do not care, I'm a fly shit, I'm going to do my minx.
-Elsewhere, is low. Finally, unless you consider the situation of my body 30 feet below the ground already eaten away by insects carnivores mocking ... So yes, I'm "out there" indeed.
"But it's crazy as you switch from one emotion to another.
"You think so?
"It is rare. Usually, people are full of themselves, which prevents them from experiencing all the exterior and ...
-Ok, you stop, there.
we stop what?
"I'm not sensitive to the outside, I am nothing, I just thought you had me confused with a famous author. I'm selfish, nothing more, ok?
But, I've not mistaken ...
-Pffffffff. I did not write any novel, you understand? I have two, in drawers, they bore me and no one has never seen color. You understand that?
-Oh ... You ...
-Oh yes, I thought you confuse me and I liked the confusion.
- "Confusion" always makes me think of "Confucian", would not you?
-No. But go ahead, write a novel, and I will call you to congratulate you, well, well, it goes like this, good evening.
"I do not understand ...
Oh Blowin -... it takes you. What crap.
And you, you become vulgar.
"I do not know what to say. It's weird. To a stranger, I mean, you, in fact, if I have nothing more to say ... No, that's not what I m'emmêle brushes.
"It is proper to those who depict reality.
Oh stop two minutes is good.
-...
-As unknown, I should not "not knowing what to say but" have nothing to say to you "and I hung up and we would talk more and that's enough.
"You still have something to say?
No, me no, no. But you, maybe not?
Yes, I do. Yes.
-Ok.
Yes.
And so, here it goes what? You tell me stuff or I'm sending you a card stock?
-No, but I just thought it does not interest you, that's all! A person of your stature. My face. A guy who gets out of prison. Finally you see.
Oh shut down a little, I told you I had published nothing, and pretended that I had not even properly. So tell whatever you want, make you happy is you pay for the call anyway.
-I have the impression that you do not understand.
"It's a joke?
-Oh? You understand that?
"No: it's a joke that you still say" you do not understand? This is done deliberately to annoy me is that it?
Dialogues me tired, after a while, after that time, anyway. When they turn around and when, in parallel, they are enough puzzles to tickle your innards. They make me tired.
I did not want to talk with him, nor desire to write what was said with a dash to the line and italics, because, ultimately, neither really listening the another. What is characteristic of the dialogues that take too long, everything that goes on too long.
He told me that I should especially consider the fact that someone fell on my blog and have loved, loved as to find my number. What I said things that even the flush of daisies does not endorse any pragmatic than I was, unable to raise myself a little bit, at least until the absurdity of the situation. At that point
not even heard the compliments.
He told me that I should hear that I read was in prison, and my player had only one idea in mind: find me to talk with me.
And I, meanwhile, I thought I was a draw for hosting that. I listened to it. It does not interest me more than that, certainly.
I believed in a role, a script, and I found myself faced with someone who wanted to talk about what I wrote. I was just able to say
"If I the writing is that I did not want to talk. Then talk about what I write ... You understand that .... You went to jail for what?
"If I tell you is that you write something about me?
-I can not promise anything, but there's a good chance that you recognize you in a few lines.
you write about my crime?
"It was a crime?
"They say 'crime' as a stolen handbag you know.
-It does not take 5 years for stealing handbag.
-You have heard then?
"Here we go again ...
"What is that again?
-dialogue. Dashes. Punctuation and turns, everything.
-I killed a person.
-One? It kills all the people all the time, at least those we love. One is not ... well ... not worth making a story, whatever.
-I killed her with my hands. She is in a coffin.
Ah, you mean a crime?
-A flight bag is a crime.
-La Most of the stolen handbags are themselves criminals leather doubtful, offends against good taste, infected directories filled with a family who can not count, keys of an apartment too big card ump ... for me it is not a crime is a civic duty, to steal, these handbags. It allows them to start from scratch.
Yes but I have killed someone.
Yes, he killed someone. For real.
If I wanted to be sure you realize what that means, I would write full time. For that you place not according to the sentence without crashing, so you feel a little of what I felt when he told me, that is the third quarter of a hundredth of what he felt him, when he did.
Yes, he killed someone. For real. True, he killed someone. For real.
Yes, he killed someone. For real. For real. With his hands. True, he killed someone, it's true true. For real. He killed someone. For real. With his hands. True, he killed someone. To real. With her hands to him. True, he killed someone. He must live with. For real.
He loved a woman. Which in itself is already quite extraordinary. No, because, I mean, he loved a woman. For real. That's true. He loved a woman. With his hands. For real.
Not just a girl who kept him company, somewhat funny, somewhat handsome, somewhat nice, with which time passes somehow, no, no. He really loved a woman. And, sit down: he loved a woman who loved him. Not like that, in passing. They loved it as not possible.
And then he ended up not love it, by dint to be afraid of all women in it.
There I stopped him, I know it's wrong, he did not mean trouble, he understood that I was in, invested, attentive, curious, so spontaneous.
-... I started not being able to withstand a minute spent without her, I ... I was going crazy, I imagined making love to everybody ...
"It's crazy because there's just a documentary about the hell that was just released.
-Hell?
-Clouzot's film. He never finished. The story of a man in love, but jealous. More jealous.
-Hence the title ...?
-Hence the title, yes.
He said that it was found as the title, because in fact, hell, that's exactly what happened when a man lost his head out of jealousy. As a disease that would leave us too normal to be neat and too crazy to get by. Hell for everyone, for women beloved pure-infidel-whore- perfect for man sad-sad-sad-love And for everyone around. Even for the florist, it got complicated.
is indeed where it started. Or completed. Everything depends on your point of view and if you believe in God Almighty.
-You believe in God?
"I do not know, there are people who deserve paradise into your story?
She liked to buy flowers, she had an account, she paid at the end of the month, sometimes a little late but nothing serious. A hectic life in short. Him, Vincent, one day, he accompanies his beloved wife. It's been a while that he wanted to know what she spent her days and what men placed his eyes on his body.
The shop is beautiful, that he remembers, a florist who loved his job, he said. One would have thought that someone was coming home, he adds. With someone where they would like tea, talk about life, spend time.
bouquet for his wife is ready venerated there, shimmering on the counter, her favorite flowers, the florist and she does not even speak, she just returned he handed him the bouquet and she did that fateful not to pay it.
Exeunt.
That's all.
Exeunt. Vincent, this time taking aware of all the veins in his body. They burn. It is time to say that the human body, it is thought that irrigates everything, but unfortunately, there's a manufacturing defect is that it does not close the valves should be dry, Sometimes, if stroke.
I interrupted a second time, I'm even more invested and spontaneous and attentive and curious and rude that just now, I interrupt.
- It reminds us that it is. Once that is exceeded, the body speaks louder than the head, heart rickety, temples drumming, veins startled, s'empourprent cheeks, hands trembling, legs flagellate, the mouth dries up, pupils dilate .... Sometimes sex bandage too.
And then, even when I say I getting carried away a little too meet someone who says his crime, I am not a good therapist, it's official. So I shut up.
"That's it. Exactly.
Yes, the body always takes over when the head longer knows how to handle.
A car arrives from afar, at top speed, his wife's love of his life is going to go through without account of the reckless driver, any concern it is to sniff the smell of the devil's flowers of evil in this bastard son of a bitch when the fuck? where? in what position? is it better than him? While she
advance, he says she has reason to love begonias. Those are going well with complexion and so he put on his grave. He knows why he said it is out of question since she died, because if she dies, he is nothing, and saying that, while the car is squealing the tires as a degenerate his arm to catch her hand, grab the tip of the red vest and bring him up so that it does not make ... Starting his arm, oddly, like that of a slave soldier part of his brain that he had heard too badly so far, his arm grows slightly. Just right. A tad.
As he tells me, I feel empty. Void of this kind of experience. I'm not saying I want, I'm not saying that I should live it to understand but, precisely, to have experienced anything approaching it, I'm just empty. His anguish fills me. I'm his fucking bin. It is the cliff of Etretat, I knew it.
pushes his arm, she slips, the car acts as if she tried to avoid it but do not mock the leak, however. He cares and he is already wondering if there are witnesses, if the plate was raised, he is already hoping that the driver was drunk as much as his conduct might suggest and it would have only a black hole in place of this memory as a witness.
And that's it, it's just that he does not forgive.
The gesture of his arm, jealousy is the anatomy, there was nothing. But when everyone was rushing around a body trembling with the last breaths, he thought of his alibi. It was therefore a criminal. So he thought.
He stopped talking. I looked at the clock. Not that I was bored, no, I do not know ... body again, who decides to head: I need a report to the concrete and I had: troisheuresvingt.
-I get up in 6 hours.
That's what I said.
I wanted to believe that all this routine, schedules, where work, no, Manon, you can not late 4 days in a row, no subways, endless cigarettes to rise ... it took over. I wanted to convince myself that what I said was not the only important thing, which made us all helpless in our public transport and our small relations warmed.
-I get up in 6 hours.
-...
And you what time you get up besides the body after they have done what you accompanied to the hospital or when you said it was more than body you wondered if you'd still love one day I know you wanted to change everything all over again when you hit it was still hot? In short, I get up in 6 hours.
"I do not get up anymore I know you.
"You've been hit too? You're in a wheelchair?
"I love your enthusiasm to any event.
"You're a cliff of Etretat.
"I love your metaphors.
"You're in a wheelchair? why do not you get up again?
"Because I can not go to bed, I can not sleep.
-Ah. Ok
-Do not feel stupid.
-If you told me not to feel stupid is that there are 'a field that I feel stupid.
-No.
-Si.
-No.
-short, anyway we do not talk to me and I raise in 6 hours, but how did you feel you've touched, it is understood that you had pushed, this is that ...
-... You're far from stupid, you are Anatomical and you fill it with great intelligence.
-Ok, I really get up in 5:57.
"I'll tell you more tomorrow, if you want .
I used the tone I had heard and admired in the thrillers of the 60s, when we asked a woman something incredibly important to the plot, the script, so that from the beginning, everything we wanted it, is that it does not fit in too, and when it was needed, then it puts a pretty dress and she bump her hip rolling, thank you . In general, Check if you want, the lady at this moment, is not dressed like at 40. She gets out of bed, or maybe she is tired from the demands male crawling under her petticoats. Then she said, knowing that the audience understands it with a simple gesture, aware of the consequence that his breathing saving can breathe, insightful about the impact of the anatomy of the cortex, she said
"Let it Tomorrow, dear, if you will. "
-You have my number, I understand.
you answer?
"I shall fear it is the teenager who says" enculade "instead of" sodomy "to shock me but yes, I will take the risk.
-makes me happy, for a writer.
Oh, we said we would stop with that, please.
It may be tu-morrow?
"I do not know. It is today. I do not make promises I'm not sure of keeping. It is a rule that I imposed recently.
You are a phenomenon.
-example, that you would have told me familiarly at me, I thought it was zero.
-vous I still want you.
-Tell me you do not plan to kill another woman, eh? Not because I, Me, I still have two to three things to do, so ...
Two-three novels, for example?
"I do not know. Two or three things, you know. Skip the laundry, do my nails. Buy flowers. ... Can I make this joke?
-...
"You do not say anything so I'm afraid.
"Afraid of what?
-From you have hurt. Or you hurt me, soon. Yes, bah sorry, but I have the right to be on my guard anyway.
-Jokes. On this subject. About flowers. Everything. That's what I need! As you say, if you have no humor, no one can be a terrorist.
-How you know I say that?
"It was highest in the text.
-I hang up, Etretat.
-A tomorrow?
"If I'm not there, I'd like you to speak on my answering machine. I hate my phone, but I love having them leave messages.
"You really want to know more, eh.
-I especially want to know your purpose.
Each of us stayed with the insistent beep of communication interrupted while we were still connected.
There are men in real life, who kill for love, then, must believe.
And it looks like there are women who would like to know what goes wrong when the threshold fullness is reached. Women who, perhaps, know only too well that happiness is only a trailer.
Our films have lengths, cracks, through, silences and many, many, many meanders.
-maispastrop-
lasuitedemainoulejour.dapresdemain
cestadireplustardcest.bienpourlesuspense
cestadireplustardcest.bienpourlesuspense
