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Bits of Noyes

He was ready before anyone else ...

hidden ... I'm there, they will not see me!

Damn, I'm spotted!

Bah what? I expect the tom-christmas me. Otherwise, it will still sting me my milk!

And the table was beautifully set (hey, she's beautiful my table?).

Because she was to receive exceptional meals.

From this, we go to this ...

Then it ...

So, I won the title of supplying official foie gras for next Christmas.
(Hein beautiful she is my foie fat?)

Yes, I know, I'd cut a little big ...

And for dessert, this year I surpassed.

Log salted butter caramel with a chocolate icing (and butter, or vice versa ...).
With and without decorations.

I know it does not really Christmas but my store where I shop that had not hired dwarves saw and magic mushrooms. So I did with what he had.

And here, the second of which I am particularly proud. If not more. Because she was as good as beautiful ... I have knots in your stomach not only look at the pictures.

Log in white chocolate and praline and Gavotte (c) and red fruit sauce and mocha (coffee-caramel what).

(Hein they are beautiful my logs?: O)

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First time ... In

is a day marked a milestone because for the first time in my life surfer fierce, I met a blogamie . And it Pandora which suffered plasters my incompetence in the matter.

Nevermind organized mess that is my house right now ( really? Only at this time?) catastrophic and the opening of the bottle of wine she had very kindly brought (another again, I'm sorry ... it did can not be seen but I never really knew where to put me ... yet it is not my habit to miss the uncorking of a bottle !) and we dwell on the rest.

I'm not saying that I was not a bit tense. Not that I am afraid she is assassinated ( no, no, I assure you it had not occurred ) but still, I felt like a youngster before his first debutantes ball. .. Amazing to see how we can "know" someone through writing and yet all feel helpless in front of him! Even after more than a year! Good and then me, when I'm shy, I'm clumsy and a little too talkative ... To camouflage. Call me Super Quiche! :)

In any case, it was nice: I come away a book to cook cakes Alsatian Noyes (thank you!) full of links where to find calls to texts, ideas for reading in SF, Fantasy and Polar and a beta-reader and veteran of record ( if, if I insist! Just because it shook me 5 minutes the first time that I will not! Quite the contrary! Even if necessary, I will provide you with a scalpel!). And renewed motivation ( but obviously not going to iron ...) .

Conclusion: thank you again and do it again whenever you want. I swear the next time be more relaxed! O)

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good novel

the good novel is a novel that speaks of a bookstore called the good novel.

In good novel, library is first an idea born of the encounter of a patron, lover of books, and a bookstore in search of a bookstore in his image.

In good novel is a novel that criticizes the system of selling books, highlighting books chosen more for the figure he can generate for the quality of writing that contains (one not mutually exclusive though).

the good novel will be the first bookseller free and ideal who wants to sell that good novels, chosen by a panel of anonymous readers at number 8.

In good novel is finally the history of this library and debate ideas that are born, where we (re) learns that selling books is primarily a business ...

After reading this, my to-do list of books to read has increased to some extent after that put the list of those I have already purchased and will take care to read for several years! For this book contains more than a literary reference!

And you want to know how I know this book? I read a column in a celebrity magazine (a hardliner) while I was at the hairdresser. Like what? : O)

POD, Laurence. - At good novel. Gallimard, December 2008.

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I had nothing else to do last night ...

And to think he almost eat them without seeing ...

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And if the sheep eat the rose? He whistled as

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sew gift ' ! - # 2

Petite session complacency: here is my latest sewing project nearing completion.

Very pretty fabrics come from resellers of Swedish furniture.

WaaAaa ...

duvet seen close up tails.
And the comforter face side.

The cushion covers and pillow closely.

And from a distance, which is not finished. You do not see?

And there you see better?

Voui Bah, it's not finished at the bottom for the simple reason that there is not much (but really not much) of tissue. Certainly not enough to end up like it should. Finally, I must add a strip of cloth.

Well, duh, it's no big deal. I managed to sew it all together and tweaking the seams inside. So it's not a piece of 15-20 cm to add more than 2m wide that will scare me!

No, but!

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I did not submit my cellar ...

BEFORE

AFTER

Ca date but it feels good to reminisce on:)

Tomorrow: the office will move to ! : O)

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No Country for Old Men *

So yes, it is a book, a book by Cormac McCarthy. And no, I did not read English. But I prefer the English title.

But who is Cormac McCarthy? One of my favorite authors since I read Road. I'm also talking to you here but I can not find a ticket on this. I have dreamed of doing ...

This author has a special pen. She belongs to him. At first, it is surprising. As Road example, the dialogue is presented with a simple wrap. This may sound annoying but actually not ...

Similarly, very modern, these phrases are a series of actions tied together by "and". He opened his eyes and turned and turned on the light and put his feet down and put her shoes and stood up. Do not try this phrase is not in the book, she is of me to illustrate it. And during the first few pages, I thought: "Wow, it's not going êt'e a little boring, right?!". So I put away the book. I remember it was a Wednesday, on the train. Except that 5 minutes after that I itched to leave the building! This book makes a hitch ... Believe me.

As for the story itself, I have nothing to say because I already do not like about the stories of books but mainly because in this book, she is only secondary. It is only the instrument of the form. In any cases like this that I felt.

A funny little note though: McCarthy was born in 1933, as Philip Roth. And in this book, he tackles the theme of old age ( I do it on purpose, sir ... agent). Bah, he does better than Roth. He also talks about the usefulness of a Lifetime ( but I swear I really did not know! ) and weight of our actions with a simplicity that touched me deeply.

"It will eventually wear Ed Tom. All the time you spend trying to regain what took you there is still some more things that you spin between your fingers." All that to ultimately realize (or we already knew?) That "(...) still some things are more expensive they are worth .

And after that? I wanted to acquire other books by Cormac McCarthy. Bah, j'n'en not find: (Nothing to library galleries. Nothing on Price Minister (except in English ...).

disappointment, I then acquired: No Smoking Will Self, I spit everything Jay McInerney, The time is rapidly aging of Tabucchi and other We Stéphane Audeguy. Besides the books I read now: The water torture Percival Everett (borrowed from the library of the EC and I regret not having bought) and the good novel by Laurence Cosse (the first being my book train and my second favorite book. The roles are interchangeable, however, depending on the mood).

That ... so you know what I mean the next time I would take the time to speak;)

Here: vikend good!

* McCarthy, Cormac - No, this country is not for old men. - Points, January 2008.

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Behind the wind behind the gray clouds that darken these days behind the holidays, behind, behind the hedges, buildings, fields, dead, behind that move the rails behind, somewhere, these little bits of loupiote, these little puffs that my senses awaken sleeping, these little hopes, these beautiful appearances, and behind all that unknown world, you ...

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Exit Ghost

Here few minutes now I'm trying to figure out how to start this post. Exit Ghost is my last reading and I can not say what did I learn, felt, what I wish to convey.

Is what I liked? Yes ... and no. I can not find this book very successful. It is full of common sense. It shows old age, illness and the changes it implies (or not). Aging physically does not necessarily mean old in his head and if so, how do we live with (or without, in fact ...)? How does it feel when you are nearer the end than the beginning? And how the desire to live 70 years? The "moments irresponsible "that they only affect young people?

So yes there is a story, good words, a use of language and certainly a good translation ... but I went after this book thinking find the heart and either I missed a page or I missed the sentence but ...

Unless the theme of old age not moved me more than I am willing the admit it ... I dunno Poa.

One thing though: the narrator is a writer, meets at 70 years a "love" of 30 years, love that tries to overcome by writing a play. The content of this piece we delivered over the story (sometimes veeeeeery long). Bah and I found these passages very boring ... Sorry. : /

I scored well but I have removed pages. I'm disappointed. Fortunately I had borrowed from the library and not bought! And fortunately, the next being disséquage is much better!

Roth, Philip - Exit Ghost, Gallimard, August 2009.

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A gentleman

Yesterday I took the subway (not possible ... and well, though!). At one stop on line A (yes I usually palm in the direction of the line ... A), a man entered. He did not hurry, so much so that I concerned that the doors close on him. Medium-sized, enveloped, broad nose and face more individual, he looked at me slightly by his eyes move forward and backward, as if he wanted to scare me. It seemed he was smiling. I asked in a voice barely audible, if he wanted the seat I occupied, and without a word he said no, that if he wanted to sit on it would have been headquarters not far from me that I had not noticed, and it took the metro to a station. All this with a measured slowness in one hand and a gaze.

I looked away, almost regretfully.

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A devil dance

Under the glare of the glowing skin

It comes alive and ignites

A smile spread over his face

While it burns and turns

Closing his eyes, opening his arms,

There is more space

There is more time

It remains only Devil

Who evaporates feelings

Twirl and died while laughing

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Airflow

What time!

disqualified

I have a breath,

That is it!

And theirs

Is not it so beautiful!

The sun shines up there

But off the eyes closed!

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Scripture

Nestled in a forest where the shadows reign

In the hollow of the road where the wind takes

Under an old tree that time dulls

lies a stone, topped with foam;

And you can see, there leaning

illuminations saffron;

The one read, as the moon revealed,

An unknown language that were erased.

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edges, sea

The Cliffs crunches, strident, stirred a wave

Sea panics, inflamed by the howling wind

And the storm's wrath fell on the limestone tempered;

It 's collapse, land, and slips away under my feet,

And in the distance, the depths of darkness without a name, I raise

at arms my soul to whoever

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Like two boxes of tears ... a rabbit

Two wings hidden by their Fine Art

without streaks scattered randomly Who fade

, distinguished in look. As

want to dominate the world

Yet so fragile, almost unreal

The graceful beauty of a butterfly.

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This morning the landscape had the appearance of a novel decoration.

Under a gray sky seemed clear that stealing the white one foam evaporated, some leaves fell on a neglected lawn, a green desert dotted with fine shades. On a walk in the grass still wet with dew, sat with a lady, dressed all in black, her long black hair, slightly wavy, falling on his shoulders slightly hunched. She seemed to look, not far from the angle of the march, which came up, a cat, it's even black, and went slowly turning his back like a disillusioned vagabond. The pale light of dawn on opening them like a small projector room, and I passed as if I was a dancer in the distance, which undermine approaching the scene. I was then left the scene, and continued my path as I would have walked in the recesses of a book page, watching the thin sheets of rain, tired of a whole summer.

And then I came back in the real world, suddenly, as if suddenly I closed a book that would have entranced.

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"Me revoilàààà"

Hey, well no, I'm not dead. (Loul.)
Sighs disappointed shone softly ...
But what, if I have nothing to say? That Is The Question. It's crazy how many people we interact without knowing. A crowd pressed into a station that is united by a common purpose, without support, except a few misguided souls who appear in this brou-ha-ha of indifference and suddenly give voice to a lost prodigal lost in the shuffle. And in the tunnels that the dwarves have dug so cleverly, and the doors constantly open and close without emotion. And then, as in every place where the common was nothing else to do but wait, the other, the stranger whom we know nothing but which are assumed or invented everything, he who has the sad eyes, smile or wave in spite of himself, offers a moment of himself. The man with the beard a few days, all dressed in gray and old soft bag, until the child laughed in a tone of voice automatically, through the woman they wanted to relieve the pain without knowing the cause, and the man bothered by an issue that awaits a seat, everyone stands there, so close and so distant, it grabs the mantel of their lives for a moment, and ignoring everything we are, we are writing history, or rather , a story that they may live forever.

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friction

would miss my breathing. It would fail in my being. Under his amber highlights and no other name than my third lung, I hang on my shoulder hang on to my anger and my joy, imagine the nothingness of silence. When it is dyed black and silver, clear and soft it oozes beauty that my lips Chip.
And always, it leads me.

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Pa'ce that

Pa'ce Chloe that she wants an article somewhere. So it will be a stupid article but an article nonetheless. It's essential not? So what am I raving about ... Ok since it is under my eyes. In a current
reveal that the sails of green ghost ships, some ripple is spreading like a dark message, without the shadow of a dead calm glass lies abandoned. Filaments slowly stretch everywhere, as an invader, however benefactor. Between the high rocks to hoist the living pillars that indulge in some quiet reverie. From there it firms across the invisible color along a dangerous route to an immutable unpredictability. On the front of the stage a few things moving without moving it seems like stars that do not twinkle.

You'll understand that I speak of the aquarium. : D

Good but not quite useless moron in my opinion. Mmm ...
"Do you do you do you" think that we should invent what is not? In die absolute, the idea is Because if yes is invented "any more. And then we wie macht ponds, stagnant weekends. This would be a shame, especially as The stagnant ponds die nicht it smells good. Moreover, ihr, nicht if you are, you should invent ben good 'story of.
And yes, but! So eh. It's Why We invent EACH Tag weil even if it exists, it ist immer different. It's coool no?

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D a lamp



Have you thought about the vows? For what is a question unanswered? Well, it is an unanswered question. In fact, it has obviously not urgent, but since I came back there, I wondered what you would say anyway. And I always wonder. So I'm asking you ^ ^ logical right? Alala all these years of attempted appropriation of a logical mind to achieve this.
is not bad: D everything has a beginning right? Except that does not exist. Though if you think so for us it was a beginning, a seed somewhere in our mind foggy. Therefore necessary to think of everything so that everything has a beginning. And even if we do not think that one is there to eventually be able to think even if it does not, it's a possibility, though unlikely. Therefore, it is a start right? Decidedly, logical when you hold us!

Or not.

-

For others, leaving them free to spin a wish or two here, lost on a funny blog ... Maybe, who knows, a genius he will read them for a day, because we can always dream, give them life?