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glossolalists (VIII)



A new recovery

(monthly theoretically but in fact very irregular) of some of the texts I write each day for the group blog the convoy glossolalists . This time, texts written between June 15, 2010 and July 15, 2010. The title above each of them lists the titles of note in which they were originally posted.

Reminder operation of convoy glossolalists : it is a group blog open to any and all volunteers. The authors publish texts consist of a single paragraph (no maximum or minimum length - just a paragraph, the text stops when it is full stop). The authors can publish texts on time, all they want (no more than one text a day though) and no particular pattern (publish once, a single text is available). Authors may also - they are even encouraged to do - decide to adopt a constraint on the frequency of publication of their texts. The frequency is then that they decided (not more than one text per day as well), and applies during the period they have previously chosen themselves.

The texts are published daily in a single ticket that includes all the paragraphs to be published today (the number is variable, depending on the frequency which have forced the authors, and occasional texts delivered). All authors' names is mentioned in a list in the right column of the blog, but each text is not explicitly attributed to its author.

We are currently twenty author (s) to participate in this blog, you can easily reach us by sending an email to convoiglossolales [at] gmail.com

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218: Thursday, June 17, 2010

I will draw the hat I'm not the one who demonstrate that the universe is shaped, the shape of a hat. Because it is the idea that I like most, it pleases me the most because it's one I just had. I just wonder about something that I could declare it faithfully reproduces the shape of the universe, but smaller, otherwise where would we, who are permanently contained in any article of manufacture? I asked myself and I really thought the pair of scissors, the corkscrew, the box of matches, the tennis racket and even the combine, but I stopped on the hat. I decided that it was the hat that would shape to be attributed to the entire universe, and the legitimacy of this award strictly demonstrated, for congratulations. The stakes are high for the scientific community, congratulations it is not nothing, I do not give like that, I had a friend Regional champion javelin throw, and when he did I was titrated 't bliss. He is still angry. Perhaps I acted foolishly at the time, but then I thought it would diminish the value of my congratulations, if I gave him from the Regional level, it's squandered thereafter. So I decided to wait he gets a good seat at the National level to congratulate him, and that is when this friend was no longer given the means to get one, and he even completely stopped throwing javelins, because he felt it did not interest anyone in his entourage. In short, a hat. Not a bowler, I do not think so, too spherical, too obvious. A Borsalino or rather Stetson, a high-hat in a pinch. Or a floppy hat, since the universe is perhaps moving form, say a bob. Better a bob a hat-slap to the shape of the universe, the hat-slap, a movement is too sudden, it's too risky.

222: Monday, June 21, 2010

We slept in the shed for several weeks without penalty because the temperatures were mild. Often, we drank the night, like good roommates, and indeed we were good roommates. Sometimes we drank more when the conversation dragged on, when we were in the mood to go to bed late. So in these cases, we drank a lot, and we wake up after noon the body stuck, contained the skull, an upset stomach in the smell of alcohol that we cuvions perhaps. A day after one of those nights, I woke up after noon, the body stuck, skull contained, an upset stomach in the smell of alcohol that I cuvais perhaps. I'm waking up first, but I did not hear anyone around me, no movement, no speech or snoring, so I thought that everyone had already left their beds and were out. A highly acidic odor permeated the air. I finally got up, not without effort and pain, trying to remind me last night, and failing to remember, except for some snippets of a conversation about axes and choppers that were in the hangar for a longer that we, and the wave picture of one of my comrades closing with chains the doors of the building that we occupied, as if afraid of someone or something outside. I had no other recollection. Finally standing up, I opened my eyes better despite the pain inflicted upon me the passage through them of light. My first glance was for axes and choppers on the ground bleeding, pain is made instantly and forget my eyes swept the whole panorama of the hangar. One of my friends split the skull was lying on a mattress soaked with blood. Another was in a corner of the building where another stagnant pool of blood, ripped open and arms folded over his head. The last of my three comrades were leaning against a door, legs stretched into a third large puddle of blood, and hands remained attached to the chains, which locks the exit, his neck and back were very deeply notched.

223: Tuesday, June 22, 2010

I sometimes dreamed of Brussels and other Belgian cities, Antwerp, Liege. I dreamed that I was there, I myself was running with a simple plan, looking like an illustration for children on the streets which were drawn in yellow and orange were organized in a star, radiating from a single central place. In dream, you walk carrying the heart of downtown in any neighborhood within minutes. In the dream, Brussels was a succession of images of Montpellier or Avignon perhaps, from Nantes and Rennes when there is nice winter. I was in Antwerp and Liege without knowing it, discovering it while I was there already, and looking at a lawn and a glass building in the gray sky that could be anywhere, and I said to myself that So this was Liege, it was so this Antwerp, but then unfortunately I had to return without seeing anything of these cities a little gray sky, a lawn and a glass building, without seeing Outremeuse not see the banks of the Scheldt. In the dream of Brussels, I wanted to see the places agreed by Jacques Brel, and more than all the space Brouckère. I had no time, without knowing my impediments, and I never found my way to the scene, the sequence of streets are changed to each of my movements. I've never seen or Antwerp or Liege, and Brussels only a few banks of the Midi station, the place never Brouckère.

228: Sunday, June 27, 2010

With him, you could get skulls. This is what was said. Human skulls. It would have been a lot because he was convinced that it was useful, and that many were those who would use. Versions of the rumor was conflicting, and indeed we never saw more than ever in town. Those who said they had seen, heard him speak, seen to have offered him the skulls, the very few who even claimed to have entered his house and seeing the skulls in the basement "by tens of quantities and quantities, "all they ever claimed to have seen him alone, so that nobody could deny. A small town, and we saw him before so often to his walks, it was still very surprising not to find it. Perhaps it was this loss which had given rise to the rumor, or maybe it was because the rumor saying that he no longer seemed true.

230: Tuesday, June 29, 2010

pétrifères Animals have many advantages. Their ovoid body covered with thick gray scales on short legs, does not need to eat a few rounded pebbles per day. A few hours after the daily intake of these few stones, the small mouth they have on the end of their conical head, a ball-shaped body, whose size approaches that of a ordinary bowler, was expelled by their Ventral slot. If we form a pile with these balls, composed of many elements that we wish, but at least two, the brown shell covering each ball dissolves and body come together and aggregate in one, akin to the alabaster, which can control the final shape to the means of molds into which we piled the bodies secreted by animals pétrifères. The report used mineral / mineral product is very attractive, energetic and other needs animal are zero. These sturdy beasts, placid and sociable, although generally considered very ugly and very little affection.

236: Monday, July 5, 2010

I had to find someone, so they gave me friendly advice. I was told then that I was a morose, that the solution to my problems was easy to determine, I had to find someone. The recommendation would have been more clearly expressed, the friend on the phone said, "you have to find someone." There was not that of hermetic or cryptography, or what to look for 12:00 to 2:00 p.m.. Find Someone. Okay. Why not try? It looked simple, but as I had never tried before, I did not know quite how to begin. I had actually a very vague idea. In the street, I said, trying in the street Someone must be among the people, probably. I ventured a few friendly places to cross several people on the sidewalk: "Hello, Are You Somebody?" The first three or four people I asked told me that way, sorry, it does not seem to them, not , they were somebody, alas! As my method was very easy to run, and my first interlocutors quite courteous, I prolonged my approach without difficulty. Took me much good, since a young woman replied shortly that yes, it seemed that she was Somebody, until it was capable of certainty, it was almost certain to be someone. I returned at once to me, not light and perky mood, not without having warmly thanked. Solve my problems had proved very simple, finally, and asked me to do a quarter of an hour.

237: Tuesday, July 6, 2010

We approached the destination, a small house along a road leading to the sea, what would have sandy soil and pines that would draw the line jagged, sweet and nervous at the same time, the western horizon, as they do all along this coastline. The drive was not long before we passed near a cemetery, and my passenger told me as he was handsome. I received while she was endowed with intellectual curiosity and aesthetic sensitivity I had not had the opportunity to see her before. She could get a closer look at places that do not invited, which seemed the very banality but offered some beauty to the observers who could take the time to watch them. The idea to propose that we stopped to visit him all crossed my mind too late, we had almost reached the house. I would have liked to visit with her and see with my eyes and in his presence what beauty was hers. It would surely have liked to see my interest and curiosity for its affinity, then perhaps would we could just postpone the trip a little cemetery, but this never took place. Got home, I had more desire for her, even more eager to caress the skin of his shoulders, the nape of her neck and her thighs, gently slide my hands under her dress and walk her belly, all the flesh tender and soft that did not cover her underwear, and feel the pleasure and the desire rising in her patient, his head in his hands and surrender to walk against me, and soon her dress was at our feet, and my hands gently then harder would have taken her beautiful round breasts under her bra and soon out of the bra party ground join the dress, before my mouth to take up her nipples hardened and taut while my fingers would slowly and eagerly ventured between her thighs, where they would have preceded my tongue when we would lie on the ground. Arrived at the house when I was eager to silence her, she thanked me for having brought her here, and asked me if I wanted something, a very friendly manner which did nothing to make the love among my desires possible she inquired and she intended to satisfy. I agreed to apply a cool drink, the bus fast enough for we exchanged a few commonplaces sudden, and I continued alone and in reverse the route that took me there with him, a few minutes earlier.

© Anthony Poiraudeau - 2010