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A cry of hatred launched in the face of the world. No less. Fifteen

Seriously? Seriously, I freaking out. The novelty sickens me and bothers me to say. So stand up for real, for work which, palpate the Thune end of the month, causing serious contractual commitments, and finally you see is my end, the guy who # 18-25 packing operation in the bulk frosties. Who stood up for Rediff Olive and Tom. The guy who went from childhood to inertia, yawning. And I'm freaking out because I could see that I get acclimated to the responsibility and overtime hours. I thought it a bit easier anyway, your boss takes you for an adult, you t'enfiles costume and you slip the win-win in excel without Chouin? Come on. In fact, after years of complacency and self-pity onanism (NIST?), I participate in the community. Normal. And the fear is so fit, he may also be that there was no adaptation. Maybe I am one of those people you ask anywhere and immediately recalculate the linear function of their principles (ie which do not). Finally, rather than to piss off with the principles, ideological talking about furniture. I exaggerate, but it is 4am. So maybe I am among those who live without redesign of existence according to the lease without. You ask me to Sudan, I take up arms and I shoot on sight. You ask me to Vichy, I denounce. A Baicheng, I await the monsoon.
short, I told myself, it's disturbing. If the outside conditions you so much that you exist only through and for him, you'll damn bored at your death.
But - but! - Thursday I finally got the evidence that an identity a bit boring hide under the body bitter. Imagine that I could see the family. And that I was as detestable as usual, ie the borders of autism and disinterest. While I'm working! And I should - if one follows the logic set for no less than a paragraph - they can hold a discussion on adult purchasing power or the weather that persists to meet quotas of showers. So which is the moral of the story, although fluctuating social, I am a big con amorphous. I was afraid. A moment.

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Macadam Tribus


We humbly encourage you to vote for Carl Bessette and spread the word in the context of the issue on the first Macadam Tribus Radio-Canada. To vote, and incidentally hear the text, click below:

Macadam Tribus, Carl Bessette and Rose extracts Élicery.


And do not miss next month our twinless Yvon Jean, who will attend, full of promise.

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Selected Excerpts from the toilet Archie

order not to lose this accumulation of wisdom (more or less!) That the successive months, even years, have able to create, here you selected passages of the toilet walls of the late Archie's local, yes, the toilets of Archie, the only place where we could contemplate a fresco depicting a ram on a donkey an elephant on a horse and Asian elephant (!) (it will be missed!). Here are some selected excerpts (whereas there were two to three times more than what is here!)

A Kalashnikov is not an instrument of music

can take away your powers, but never your ideas.

The Benin hungry.

The impossible becomes when you start to believe it ...

Pepe, you have eyes such as tiles. - Ferré and his brother

Just a beer to be drunk but you never know if the 13 th or the 14 th .

When you're well, rest well.

-The poet? bah, it is in the clouds!

- Or. The thunder, too.

HUGO

The important thing is what counts.

Staying a little longer to help out.

Writing on walls is always better than to close his mouth!

Like someone in silence.

Like someone FRACAS

Oyez oyez politicians

Stop talking our heads

Speak to our hearts

"Nothing is bigger than the smallest of all living beings, the child is the one who demands that fall on his knees to reach his height! Doris Lussier

Nature Boy

There Was A Boy

A very strange enchanted

boy

They Say he Wandered very far very far

Over land and sea

A little shy

And sad of eye

But very wise was he

And so one day

One magic day he passed my way

And while we talk

Of many things

Fools and kings

This he said to me:

“The greatest thing

You’ll ever learn

Is just to love

And be loved in return”

La mort du sujet ?

Or the return of spaghetti

I love life!

And now even more than earlier.

Down toasters

Liberate the future of this future already

Liberate the future of the future already past

He who speaks without knowledge

is an ignorant

Whoever knows

And that says nothing

Is a Criminal

... er Nie inspired ... ... ... tzsche

think there

Taoist wisdom And then what what?

?! Damn! I am a criminal!

Not

Truth Simplicity Love Peace

The struggle of man against power is that of memory against forgetting.

Humanity has seen other ...

Until the blind ...

"It is time now we go:

me to die, you live for,

About Us has the best division? "

Plato-Socrates

What to do in case of fire?

Indeed ...

Try ... And you'll see! ! !

I screamed

Life is nasty

And the echo replied

Sing

The future belongs to those whose workers are up early.

Do not hate yourself

There are plenty

Outhere to do it Without Reason.

Art is the gateway to the soul. FP

I learn to love and good

Love the world and Japan ...

I prefer to live my dreams I dream my life.

Organizing cons of the technocratic society.

If U C4N r34d this, U n33d 2 G3T l4id!

If I look at you because I see you.

Intégrons l'Utopia au spectacle.

WAKE UP

Where is Josephine Baker?

Ostie l'gros!

Let go because everything goes

I go back often (Apollinaire)

- thank you!

- No thank ... yer ...!

Language as a joke

Arendt

Quem muito will evita

guest is ...!

Who is spared much, live with

Society IS a physical manifestation of conscious Thought!

If no solution is that there is no problem

The dreams and desires are immortal. (Rodin)

Something funny ...

CARPE DIEM

Do not worry Be Happy

Qual é o peso da luz

What is the weight of light

Man is condemned to see.

Neither God nor MASTER

- Still Ferré

The existence precedes essence, and inflames!

In the magic ...

The soul acts.

Mago Mato

Hinano Tahiti beer ...

Imagination is more important than knowledge

Einstein

When the wine comes truth comes out.

Bacchus

+ Just do buy, so that it would sell +

Coluche

Waiting prolongs envy.

... And envy, aah! What it makes me live!

Baudelaire, Verlaine and Hugo also frequented places like this. Archi thank you to Archie 9? live poetry, art and freedom to live

An egoist is someone who does not believe me.

PK does it have problems?

is a farewell

That's it, it was the selected excerpts. It will surely soon repaint wise words of the toilets of a new local establishment, you will awaits! And finish it all with a quote from the toilet but not the column of Archie:

The questioning of authority.
questioning authority.

here now,
soon.

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Objectives

Events: Put poetry scene, without making a show.

Events: Forcing the time to say his name.

edition publication as a starting point of a speech rather than a finality.

edition Poetry as a collective experience, when it meets its full impact.

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Last Friday was held a premiere reading of a play to be published by the Archipelliers, here is the poster of invitation and a video clip chosen by S * é, my man.

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Public reading what we said ...

So we're REALLY on a new journey, the word
always happens! :
that time will tell its name.

The departure time of the ball voting sweeping the night in Montreal, the next earthquake that will shake sense, sense of reason, the whole being poets, spectators, the last loafers who sat in the rumble still bleeding from their ears long after the speech on the stage is silent, is always given; arrived in the evening time is ALWAYS accessory is your opinion if you have the microphone that will not close 'thirst for more ..

Obviously, the principle of password is ALWAYS the same as before: the microphone is an invitation to storm ears thirsting for direction assistance, from all walks of undermined the malaise that is the poetry in song, slam, rap, linear reading, silence galore, all languages, all accessories, all Measures taken by the world of poetic speech are ALWAYS invited!

Well, what do you expect? ALWAYS enclose strings of gold star to star and dance!

Crowd, music from the beginning of the century and those to come, poetry founder Emene IDEIS your texts you and your whole, the dialogue again and again eighteen hundred ways to report to you that you do not know anything yet.

CAR NOW, ALWAYS with new proposals every day, it's time to raise the bar indicator of event-rate ALWAYS another level above. The goal was always the same, forcing the time to say his name. If it is in Quebec that poetry must move and become the name of what will come, we are ALWAYS ready, we still participating, we are ALWAYS a work in progress, and that still does not stop. If poetry turns on a plural situation, do not think that the triumvirate has achieved with the evening Password purpose of his approach, on the contrary, we expect Always, always ALWAYS soon.

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abbesses

Fifteen has never been answered. Of serious answer. His mother telling him that "it came like that", and "we liked it." And then she says with regret, as your name Germain, "in case". It always ends up lighting a cigarette, raise their eyebrows as if to mark a recess. Because she has no score to settle, Fifteen is very nice, original, here.

Fifteen billion has scores to settle, as he collapses on a bench anti-bum, those who lean towards the marginal and blow him "You do not sleep here, you, you clear". Billions of accounts adjust, and Sophie Bofmann will be the first, which is fluff. Abbesses station, 13 hours. And it is 13 h 30. Brothel.

Bofmann already. It comes from Baufmann? Changed during the war? Fifteen is sensitive to the values and Bofmann surnames, it can not exist. Boffmann, strictly speaking. It's a conspiracy, the guy at first unlikely that the girl jumps in the name does not exist. Fifteen and Bofmann, it's been crap. However, Sophie is not boring, that's why he lingered on her. She knocked at his door, he opened vaguely exasperated, she said apologetically as "Hi, this is What music? It was, bah is Death in Vegas, I put a little strong, sorry, but there's a noise downstairs. We are celebrating a birthday, she justified. Oh, it's you. OK. Want to come? she suggested. Not boring, Sophie Bofmann. A girl with no way he describes, without knowing whether it is good. If it's good or not. Everything. She is not ugly. Not boring. Fifteen has fantasized for months on a red cross in Memphis. The Memphis, still a crap name. But the redhead was exciting, a kind of elegance wrapped in the swing arms that brewed its wavy Venetian. And tits, boy. Bofmann is not boring, but it is not the fantasy cast a rotten box. She is not thinking along the ring road, when you guys left catatonic failure. The redhead, it was not a handjob, it was a possible destiny, at least qualify, the infinitesimal probability of a peak. Sophie Bofmann is late.
happiness, we imagine having the taste even in its simplicity. For fifteen, this would bar Breton pancakes, feet in the seaweed and returned late at Kriek. Nevertheless , he guesses. That these little tags are only alibi. A way of saying, I am just so little, at least I am gratified. The truth is that it does not satisfy. Never. Therefore, we will not be fulfilled. 14 hours.
How was it? Satori? Sasori. Yeah, Sasori. The character was endearing Fifteen had submitted for approval by Sophie Bofmann, he explained, Sasori does not support the delay, you'll understand why. Bofmann but had not understood. She was not interested in manga. Fifteen had insisted, Sasori was worth an evening, it was important that contemplates the puppeteer timely, punctual neurotic. And everything was explained on the latest measures Hakubo when he let himself die. Bofmann Sophie, who was never boring, had shown passively stubborn that night, not to understand.

A breath of hatred invades Fifteen, a violent death drive to place the girl on behalf inexorable. There is no choice. The redhead was that to which I tend, in the footsteps Vasif algae, kneading those big breasts. Moreover, it is nothing. I'm fifteen, whore. Fifteen my name because it is original. The only question is: which of my mother or me proud of this solitude calendar? Who paraded with friends, colleagues, aunts, bringing the brat of flesh that was indistinguishable from swarming braillers and braille as its number? Answering this question was answer to everything. It was Sophie Bofmann recognize its status as credible alternative to the ideal Venetian or annihilation. It was nothing to forgive. I fucking nothing. I kiss the void, starting Fifteen murmur.

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rrrreally now I'm unimpressed to say

If Manny is an idiot surrounded by a beard , Arwen was surrounded by a beautiful girl in the world. Not as beautiful as can be postulants to inaccessibility, as are pretty freckles framing a smile that says nothing, as implied by these locks picked Breton exposed to the meridians and longitudes foaming salt. We saw a bad end his life with, but she was the star of a protective bunch of virgins Gerba their vodka in spasms of spite. Arwen felt no love, no lava cropping reasonable density, it was therefore not wrong to let ride, as it was fun. She conceded, however the company - its embittered girlfriends - a safe distance with the urgency of misfits. At the confluence of ease and restraint, she stretched out his days in sighing overwhelmed, contemplative inert emotional misery which glued the aspirants to his feet. It was - this is important, take notes - really sad to see these little things entangled in their fantasies muddy when it could fill their incandescent sucking their cock. Arwen knew he had to do with it, and took care to be a normal girl, reader of tabloids, smiling colleague, vegetarian non-proselytizing. This normality became logically suspect and his entourage decided she had, like all the pretty girls, psychological problems (all ugly girls also have psychological problems, but who cares since they are in fact ugly), which is unanimously considered it a pity she is so pretty.
People are definitely too stupid, Arwen turned his affections to his younger brother, a boy whose mediocre nothing to say. She understood the eagerness cardiac What depressives to exist for ever - if only that - a person. A few years later, she met a guy we will call for Pepito kidding. Pepito was a primary form of scum today. A boy who was hanging out with mates and conceive life as a succession of halls of buildings that should be immortalized with his piss. Fate is a joker, loved Pepito. I mean, really love. Up to recreate the feel of the condition, - it pierces me a little ass, but that's - identity. He was, and it's a shame this time, the man who loved the best Arwen. He took photographs. Constantly. Every fucking day he emptied several films, Arwen obliquely, Arwen one arm raised, arms raised Arwen, Arwen Brewer reaching the top of the shelf, Arwen Brewer in the arm, an arm aside Arwen, Arwen entering a filter between his fingers, Arwen depositing the filter, and all these pictures stored in a box labeled "Arwen prepares the coffee." Pepito's little brother accepted as an integral component of his dream life. He showed that one could rise from the piss to hope, hope to rage, rage to bliss. He proved that one could abandon themselves to love. He taught him the happiness of quiet in the footsteps of another, and hand attached to his fingers. He said everything there was to say, how to understand the infinite as a dark puddle drawn contours concrete, sand worms need to hunt by digging below the corners of trains where the controller would not see him ever. The other, of course, said nothing. Pepito got him an internship, then died in his car.
Arwen was sad as she does not believe it would be capable. It was a girl savagely intelligent, a spirit that did not carry that instinct, but instinct is itself modeled on the pulse of reason. That is to say if she was clever, whatever. But you know what pain is? Say it is a veil over the rest. On everything else. There are only pain and ways to remedy it, because, somehow, she eats everything and spits in t'inclut tumor that crushes you - do you think initially - to better expel every body would pretend to exist outside of it (the pain, but take a little whore). And Arwen made a mistake. She thought - I still laugh, but it's not fun for me - it might not die of sadness with his little brother. Exist forever for one person. Arwen.

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I said I was incompetent? Well, it said. Among the dozens of designs that organize (but oh how I'll get out of that sentence?) My parallel world (and here you think I have eaten the semantics as a pig, so that parallelism is a concept entirely concrete, imagine two paths that would put a certain stubbornness and frustrating to never cross, and that these trajectories would be my first, and the flow of the vibrating existence of the other, hey, you see these little bobs that will crash for sure but in time and space that they believe belong to them, the idiots), I am convinced that my Incompetence is a given acceptable (and shared, but I want to break the mood) for the human dimension. Practically, if I show you the layout of the client, you can always you unload on me, and even add in my disabilities, or to accept yours as a result of mine, hmm?
Acceptable, yes. I am committed to not respect what I do, or get involved. For not paying wages to the needs and submitted a compassionate side, not to perceive injustice, not to eat with colleagues and do not fuck the bitch by the 5th. Not to be unhappy, eh.
Only now, now that it's serious and speak dough and commitment and contract, and now concludes that we feel, we suggest a word that I could increment the production and tell me everything Magner, I no longer play. I could say. For example.

I love and that's when I began to confuse the concepts as distinct as life and existence, the desire and guts screaming, fire and nights waiting for you. Night waiting for you so that there was one. And what you end up coming. But tous.ceux.qui.ont.été.amoureux. know that the hours were no longer feels there for each other are eager nausea, are renunciations and hatred in molasses, are slow to correct the non-existence does not know if it will dawn on the day and are scope tip to remugles stomach, and for a long time. And I was in love. What can I justify it?