my life in one page (the train journey)

2002-08-14 - 5:35 p.m.

*** My life in one page, ends with a max havelaar coffeeI woke up this morning, and my first thought was -i swear a god- for the three diaries that i appreciated so far...! I know... i'm not all there...! I mean, i'm not living in a desert, there are people not far from here, i could be in a different situation than this alienating loneliness, who made me addicted to internet this last few months, and this way brought me, on a pretty (but finally lucky) hard evening, to search sites about Daniel Johnston (to see what kind of man he is, his face...), and then made me fall on this one, at the page where the people who made the wise choice of Daniel Johnston are. I clicked on "Natasha5" (a human being!), and read things she wrote... "Oh yeah baby, talk to me!".

That's the way i started mine. I used to write, between 14 and 19. And then one day, i wrote my last chapter, and i knew it was my last one, as i was writing it... don't know why. It feels very good to do it again, try to let go everything, like dancing on a fast track of Led Zeppelin or Fatboy Slim like a crazy Papuan...

So, about the loneliness... I didn't always use to be like that. I think i was a nice child, very communicative... And then came the adolescence... Don't talk to me about this! I began to stay more alone, to feel a bit different, to become highly sensitive and introverted... and then to be a very lonely guy. So there was only one thing left i could do: to think, to immerse in myself. Hard times and great discoveries. I started to paint. And to write at this time was the most powerful thing i've ever lived, ever since... Books helped me too.

So... now i live alone in a big house, old and simple country house, since 4 years, where i see only from time to time my parents (it's their house), like one week-end a month... My two sisters once or twice a year. And most of the time, i speak to nobody for whole weeks, except the cashier of one supermarket, and maybe one phone call. But that's ok, that's in fact what i need, for that period of my life... Except some violent moments, that i try to deal with... But really, they're not so many.

Since two years and a half, i haven't spent only one night out of this home... Couldn't... Didn't want to... And then, 3 weeks ago, i took the train to visit my parents (who my sisters and their boyfriends were visiting too). That was nice to see people, i felt great... And boy! believe me or not, very first journey, a girl got on the train, at one station, and when she arrived at two meters from me, my legs felt like cotton wool, and my stomach and my heart had like something to do with volcanology things... the magma part. She was indeed on a very high level on prettiness and sweetness scales, if i may say... we were really on the very high level things... She glanced at me once, maybe twice, sort of. She sat not far from me. Later, i went for a walk, full of hope and fear, on my medium level, and a bit shaky everywhere. And i talked to a young guy who was standing too, a little farther, because i felt like it, because i felt great. 45 minutes or so. Then my station arrived... And the girl?!... I know...! But we feel so uncomfortable in those compartments full of seated people and quite silent... I tried to meet her on a walk... I did.

But even so, as i was leaving and not she, i gave her a little piece of paper that i made (in expectation of that kind of predictable situation, poor me!) with the address of my website, where is my e-mail, and also things i do, as an artist, sort of... I hope it will be enough... I doubt it. Yet, i think she even smiled at me as i gave her my lottery love ticket... i don't remember... I think she's sweet. I think i'm shitty.

That happened almost 3 weeks ago, and still now, when i recall her face, i can feel the same exact emotion, which is precisely more something about me... like the guy i could be if she wanted to have something to do with me, if we were friends, lovers, if we were sharing things... a happy guy in this beautiful world that numbers among its ranks a so damn adorable creature, and i'd really like to be part of the Adorable's side, i would like to be sweet. The beauty is kind of wounding.

Sue me! (i'm checking in my dictionary... really, can't see the connection... sorry!)

Tomorrow i guess, i will just do another train journey, because i have to go to Paris to see one big exhibition of my favorite painter (Georges Mathieu, 70 paintings... wow! it's gonna be yumy, trust me!)... because the next one will probably not happen before 20 years or so. So i will let you know what happens... if something happens. That's a comforting idea, to know that, what ever happens, i will, if i want to, if i need, write it right there, the whole story, my all feelings... Diaries protect people. Like a guardian angel, who makes of you someone special. I like that.

I will spend one night, or two, in my best friend's flat. We met we were 3 years old. School together. He's in the theater's business, as an actor. But if he's actually on tour (not this summer) all over the world, it's not because he's talented as that, it's because he can keep in the air 7 balls, even 8 now, which is quite good... but he's not doing a show just as a juggler, it's full of poetry and beautiful stuff.

This morning, as i was thinking to my chance in relationships, love side, i started to cry...! believe me, 8 a.m., drinking my Guatemalan Max Havelaar coffee...! Is that an hour for crying?