I was not alone in discovering all these crazy things, but
the first time I've made, it was at least as well as your first time you . And most importantly, it was mine.
the same way that I did not dare lose my virginity in public I preferred my room, so for my first cigarette and my first joint and my first awareness of the world. And
.
Y'avait a sliding wooden door, leaving a thick wood not spend much. Neither odor nor the words nor the decibels, or tears, and the sighs that we inspire our 15 years. Because, shit, it's still hard.
And then I could also lockable. I say that because "sliding door" may imply "zero privacy", which was far from the case. With me, I had another home , and we entered there not without knocking. Besides, there is never really came. I was at the end of the apartment, they saw me and not go by where I was out. We went head to move to "table" or order "that music down" but no more. It was my home to me at my mother home.
The trick of the door, it happened quite late, about my 12 years, when I pasted an early chest, I demanded a lock since I had one on my diary, I'm seemed implacable logic, I became secret and secretive, collector lock in all kind, and that was enough.
Before my 12 years, my lock was much more user friendly like a family film that can come out a bit theatrically in August, I was a kid fresh, requiring just one password that was engaging in a subtle dig inadvertent clues hidden in the litter of cats or written in marker in the surrounding alluvial chicken lunch. Or drawn, precisely in the keyhole that had not yet key at the time.
So it amused me more to create the index and hearing my mother play the game that they are 15 years and just close my door with a double turn and look at magazines that describe adolescents. Gender, teens who need privacy. And respect. Nirvana and very strong. And perhaps even insulting the one who wears the uterus that has allowed us to know Kurt darling love. Brief. I have done my job " one that is there but not wanted and that was not asked his opinion, so should not piss off, ok ?
The wooden door, I have not slammed shut, as background, but I slid hard to mark the rebellious I became. Much. Which countless times theatrically exaggerated and unnecessary.
It also made its small effect, when it slips from a quick one, and, for me, it was noisy as I liked.
The problem is that, unlike real doors when they slam shut, then retracted it after the swing, and despite my desire to stay away and disconnected from the world too disgusting and all, by leaving thereby centimeter enough to hear the little chuckle from my mother. She thought it was ridiculous to believe. While There was nothing more serious.
was the first door I chattered is not nothing.
My first joint was a taste of a nuclear attack, in the words of my throat. Well I can do that in my home the home with a trusted friend. It was not pretty to watch but anyway, who cares royally. I think we had overloaded the firecracker, we were amateurs. We checked the veracity of the rumor of boys in 3rd who said it made her laugh and it gave hunger.
I remember having developed a theory, night, to convince my mother to put a fridge in my room. And then the next day, I realized she was heading, just to accept me understand that empty, it was no use. I had not requested it for Christmas after all. Anyway, Christmas was celebrated not.
The first cigarette before had arrived yet.
Ridiculously small, one to keep me on a 3 as the seat of the car, I slept on a weekend 2 rear of a BMW convertible that rolled khaki very early and very fast on the highway. And from 6am to 8am, spirals seductive regularly came to my nostrils twitch. We opened the window of course, but the air will not change a thing, on the contrary, it crystallized the smell. I found the perfume insanely great. I would not necessarily have, I knew it was not my age, but for me, and everyone's tastes, it smelled damn good.
So when we had an age that is almost our age to buy a pack of Marlboro Light by 10, it was neither one nor two, so I went and I wanted to live this moment in my home my house, not with other small strikes in the square next to the college. For me it was a moment, for real.
I had not slammed the sliding door but on the contrary, I expected the house to sleep and I had closed softly, I stepped on the floorboards that creaked and the least open my windows, everything ensuring that no neighbor would see me. I thought surely the neighbors, it was like the first class and it was going to CAFTA. In the dark, invisible, excited like a chicken, I had turned the trick a bit like that, without knowing, but with the mad desire to find the smell from the backseat and can leave me a smoke elegant and malleable. I had seen too many movies with Humphrey and Lauren. And I always found the word "scroll" attractive.
I got my first lighter, a Bic, I remember. Black and everything. Because I do not want tons and tell me with a print hippie or hip hop or hop, black was perfect: it was my way of showing off to me, I guess. And I was inspired by remembering what Ludovic said:
You aspire, you smoke in your mouth and then imagine that your mother sees you and you make "Haaaan! Mom, Let's actually touch your uvula at the back, maybe you'll cough, and then you spit. "
I expected that not more than the smell that I wanted to find, there is a taste. The taste is neither liked nor disliked me. Good. I have not found the smell. Either. The cigarette was not even finished I went home already in the cassette for my walkman Aerosmith thinking about something else. I was even more concentrated on the event. It was a bland disappointment, just as I started I was already accustomed, almost dependent. The guys do their job with everything they put in, they create a seductive deception and additive-not really, there's no denying it's a trick pro.
After Marloboro and joints, I went to boys. All in good time.
I had forgotten until a week ago my first time with a boy. Not that I do not give any importance, but I chose to keep the second memory, the first being perhaps just, say, in short, but by emptying the room that was my room, my home , my memory has seen fit to put the record straight and, as they say, "everything is back."
My first time with a boy was also home, like a girl, I wanted my bed, my decor, my decor, the risk of being surprised by my mother and my morning. Perhaps, finally, that I did not have that much, maybe it's just in my home me that the mini chick that I was heading to the Thing and things are naturally linked together, if I may say so. The boy had been allowed to sleep with me, but it was a question that remains in the guest room, guest. We stopped being friends when I invited him to join me in me and, much like the nuclear attack and seal the evidence of the cigarette, my first time with a boy does was not as close to the desert before the harbinger of excess post.
There's been plenty of other firsts in the home of my home.
There's been the first time a wife asked me to come live with her. With her and her husband. Which were 3 other women, I mean outside of it. There's been the neighbor's suicide, which landed in our yard, his head in the vines. There's been burning a whole street, I saw, from my room petrified. There's got my first period, proof that I was heading to human and human like me that would be full of firsts. There's been the first time I woke up with a boy whom I could not think of anything except that it was imperative that it remains trapped, like that in my body, into his chair. There's been the first letters, written, received, and the revelation of delight that accompanied the case. There's was the first deception and discover the purpose of myth is to say that it hurts the boys to be embraced immediately after their best friend. Or just before. There's been the first birth, which I understood nothing. Where you're back and everything. The first death, which I did not understand either. Where you're out and company. Y 'was the first book that I closed on my chest, wondering if day in the life I live as deep as it can be written. There's been past the first page of a book. There's been the first time I realized it was the books that were to depart from a lot of unnecessary umpteenth time and there was also the day I realized I was getting done turn "firsts".
course, one day I will have my first wrinkle. And my first acid rain. I know it will come with the package, I do not know too much more distinguished history in the background and in terms of first child, in quotes, I get to the end and at the end of the beginning.
So he was there 's the first time I felt not adult or large, nay, the first time I felt myself going abroad with a guy without baggage instead. And to leave my home the home. Without much thought, just caught by the suction of inspiring future blindly like that, poof.
And then, in the same vein, the first time I took my CD my home with me more too to put them in another place, and the first time when my former home became an office full of stuff too seriously and the first time the home my home I was in a new apartment, the "home" from another, and all records including, but not at all where I got my first reporting nuclear. It went without warning, I still had the keys there and there were still some cases that no one had found it useful to separate and had the advantage of maintaining a brothel that no longer existed and really mark a territory that was more personally. I never thought about the first time in my mother who sees her daughter and, perhaps, past an empty room where there 's music could even declining.
Cats less easily recognized me, and sometimes a kitchen utensil changed places without my first telegram was prevented, sometimes, the kitchen itself was changing room, and neighbors were children, I want about children who grew up more, and who would call me madam in the lobby of a building where I had not even been not even a lady.
The apartment, my first apartment, I shall draw the eyes closed, hands tied. Yet, when I want to describe, to tell another, everything is mixed and I realize that I never really paid attention to him because he was there, always there, like a family member j ' imagine. The people we see every day, we are not able to notice if they have thinned and there is always the last to understand that they are going.
It is this apartment complex, is made U-shaped around a courtyard. We wanted to make the court a true conservatory and break the walls to make an O idyllic. We have had a small pond with small fish, big cats for fun. We had thought of a parrot, and 2 to it (s) do not get bored (es) not. And then we said a parrot or two in a conservatory in Paris, was a bit like putting our cats on a branch in the desert. Besides this long-lived, a parrot. So we knew that two of us would die before them is a survey that we had just had dinner envy. And anyway, the condominium had refused the idea of the veranda. Because they have not supported jealousy that they have inspired each day to our Eden. Good.
The bathrooms have changed rooms, the hallway became a dressing room required a mezzanine and the piano has refused to be far in drafts. During construction, it was scraping around a spout benzene in a half apartment and they continued to draw blueprints not too bad for other projects not always feasible.
Anything could be possible, I remember like it was yesterday. But the bathroom with turquoise tiles on which they wrote that I learn to read, since The hip bath is not as if it were my life. We have to tell me if I remember. Forget not the color of your eyes, it is like a security blanket for me, but I'm looking into it every day, so I really know the nuances and how did worry.
There's been another first time that I was not prepared.
Often, these days, important dates marking a period no less memorable are born in telephone handsets.
-Hello? Yes, then you must tell me if you want plants and dishes because there it is, the sale is underway, I have a buyer, and I want to keep everything, huh, so you just do the sorting. -Er, ... hello?
It may not be for me to talk. There's no
36,000 possibilities.
Either a family member dies of a sudden one and that too by storm and we're talking right away dishes, or a family member died after a long illness and I would expected at that time in which case I would not have been struck down at this point.
Neither one nor the other.
I feel cheated.
I feel hate the world. Another thing that pin in my back. Damn capitalists. I want to slide my door like never before. Kurt steupl ', sing for me.
was once announced that in others, a reaction bitch, a snowball effect, in winter, and I who felt like a cliché. After
, there's been the first time he had to put books in boxes and the mirrors in tissues. I felt loose, it's absurd, but I felt cowardly to leave before the end either. I saw no point in deciding whether to keep the pictures of colonies where I do not remember having been, if was urgent to throw books and you're the hero in a new life where I was clearly a secondary character. Things were done without me, and again, I can not get used to the idea, however, "in love" as they say, "in friendship" as they believe I am the first to leave before the ruins, but there really ... Everything had to be dropped, the place is demolished or perhaps just hated to agree to make a clean sweep. I
rests a cardboard K7 audio.
-Excuse me ... I just, I say something there, why you would leave when it's not the end instead?
-Pardon? You mean when I die? It's nice ...
"But no, rhoooo the end, the end by what.
-But ... It the end, Manon. The papers are signed. We will not wait for a hurricane anyway.
I know, there I frowned my head back a little, which makes me a sort of double chin quite attractive, I know, I turned 12 in a second.
not-too. It is still there the apartment. It is not over. Regarde.Tu go but hey, I mean, you know what, it trop pas la fin, attends.
-Qu’est ce que tu parles mal. C’est quoi ces phrases? Et elle rit.
-On s’en fout de comment je parle, ce qui compte c’est ce que je dis.
-Et tu dis n’importe quoi. La fin c’est maintenant. Vis le tout de suite.
-Nan. Nan, je suis pas d’accord.
-Bon, écoute, on en parle dans le camion, ok? Tu peux descendre ces cartons?
Les trucs un peu tristes se passent toujours très vite ou c’est juste pour moi?
Just realized I had already made the break that the keys. I was adult in a snap. I had not even had time to remove the key ring-shaped tongue Rolling Stones. It would mean that
home now is where I live? Where nothing is stored, where it would not refuse a sliding door so I have installed the continuity of my anger from my 15 years it would die I'm an adult and you, who go away, you're old and that they, who come here, they have whole life ahead them? Not
but hey. And everyone did that? And people are doing? And it's a bourgeois concern? And worry have other scoops in the genre?
I have to board, to deal with so-called trifles.
I do not know if discovering the home of his home empty and alone, where the sighs that escape us sound like in hell reverberating on the walls despite being stripped, where the soil has kept track of a bed that has stayed there 18 years, the location where a poster Mickey had been replaced by a poster Nina Hagen which was replaced by inscriptions on the wall and see for the first time the area without the content, as a body, in fact, as a body already cold ... I do not know if you can call it "settling trifles."
It solves nothing, we discover new corridors in our heads.
And we would love whatever trifles, these corridors. It would be a trifle, indeed, from top to bottom. And that corridors do not lead to dead ends dusty.
is the first time I tell myself that all those who have not seen this place does not really know me. And perhaps as well, I have time tell. The time has plenty of opportunities.
I will have other firsts, I doubt it. I have my first abortion, my first grief, my first accident, my first debt, my first year, my first dentures, my first memory of all this fun, one day, surely, my first last breath, I doubt not .
But it was a mausoleum, and every time I go under the windows there, that is my windows for me, if I see the light and life, that take away a bit the 2 to me.
-maispastrop-
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