1. |
Initial Relief
03:22
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How can I define life?
Let’s talk about a landscape making.
It’s about biology and geology.
A chain of climatic accidents.
I’m on the bottom of the ocean,
then I’m on the mountain’s top.
It is protean and elusive.
And what am I waiting for now?
Something beautiful?
Something that could destroy me?
A non-negotiable package made of fragments of joy and tears?
A clockwork leading me between brightness and abysses?
I wasn’t ready for this. And I think I am still not.
Freedom from care is a privilege.
The childhood innocence and the kids’ naivety are left too far away.
I don't know if I have to bring them back.
I have to learn a new word list.
I just don’t know why I’m asking myself,
why I am searching for a former clarity.
From foolishness to complexity.
For now I’m waiting in fear. I’m waiting for a new day.
A new one to remember.
A new basing building block of life design.
The contrasting alternation of tragedy and joy episodes weakens me. To keep my heart warm, I’m fighting so hard against a glacier movement.
And I will live such tragedy, never reaching a climax.
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2. |
Water Erosion
01:32
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Wide open fields.
Harvest is done offering to eyes this cold landscape.
I’m leaving this old fancy carousel
thanks to my blinkers.
Breathtaking sceneries!
I’ve stuck to my plan through thick and thin.
And I don’t mind if I’ll come limping out of the wood.
Trees guide me towards wet passages.
Sticks and stones may break my bones…
I'm clashing with trunks.
I think I need this wood to rebuild myself.
Let me rebuild for me a wooden horse,
to hide myself in my own trap and end some inner conflicts.
A wooden heart, floating in case of emotional tidal waves.
No more rusty hearts.
If it looks like a red cedar one, it’s just because of what's running through my veins.
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3. |
Effective Winds
02:29
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I had a hot burning point in my chest.
I was trying to put on a brave face,
giving me wings to widen on my shoulders.
When a heavy storm is raging over days,
the wings of mills turn each and every day.
This is an endless spinning.
And we write new lines, with words we have never said.
Not because it was too hard.
But because we didn’t know we were fighting against time.
This ambiguous thing that makes us existing.
I was living to regret those missed words.
It still burns on me, It still burns me on.
As a necessary oxygen to maintain the flame.
Worn out words blow away.
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4. |
Discordance Of Level
02:21
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Today I wonder,
what kind of summit
could reach in interrogating
what is already there
and what is now proposed to me.
The bitter taste of me alone.
Another one to one meeting with my fears and my anxieties.
In the heart of an inner conflict.
Submitting to go forth,
without the right to forget.
I forced myself to be quiet,
lost in the thickness of a rift.
What can I control?
How can I accept climatic process?
Today it kills me to admit this fucking sequence of words:
to live is to accept it.
I am torn apart into this discordance.
Before my final act,
before my final word,
I have to design the drawing of a landscape
made by my own intention rather than only by hand.
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5. |
Circles & Squares
03:54
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Call it a leak, I call it a survival process.
I refuse to talk about a surrender.
So this is the assembly of a new armor.
It’s a mapping intention.
To build my own mental barriers.
I plan my space, I draw circles and squares with watertight lines.
Front signage displays perceptiveness, even if those spaces will certainly be filled with battles of high intensity.
Stepping into one of these squares is much like walking into a so well ordered factory.
And just as in this mechanical system, I have to be assigned to one specific task.
So at this time, I’m thinking about a positive construction.
As a cart horse carries out its assignment.
Even with three knee braces, still attached to its exhausting work.
You know I’m not blind,
I merely consider blinkers may protect me from some weakness.
I just think such images serve as fantasies of mind.
Helping me in going forth, rather than providing true reflections on the human condition.
I can invent my own context, I can invent my own background.
Today I focus on an advanced rendering of my course.
Maybe the truth is I just can’t take time to be so thoughtful.
I need to take this idea as a driver for my aspiration, rather than a device of deception.
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6. |
Old Dried Oceans
03:05
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I submit to learning patience,
to walking and to thinking featuring time.
And to getting good in drawing some lines.
When the battle is over, I’ll drown myself in an ocean of sand.
This is a new planning theory,
this is a new unaesthetic approach to landscape.
Between interpenetration and transparency.
To forget and to never forget at the same time.
Just going on talking about nearly nothing.
I merely consider it’s just a part of me.
But can I get this so clear?
It comes close and backs away.
I’ll never understand how much time it took to smash my face again.
A new overflowing.
I have too many questions at once.
It’s somewhere between the why, the when, a wake and a wait.
One more could be about resistance and resiliency.
As it was lead by a focal length failure.
Or as it was revealed by a dust in eye.
And when the battle is over, I'll drown myself in this ocean of sand.
A quiet and peaceful moment, which give you back sparks of clarity.
But today, it still kills me to accept it.
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7. |
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It’s like I need to appeal to a majestic metaphor.
To build a new complexity between brutalism and brutality.
A poetic thickness for an unexplainable meaning.
Before you’re able to speak, you can’t think of a word like “destruction”. Then you learn it in reading it.
Does the discovery of an experience mean a return to consideration?
When your greatest fear becomes reality, reality no longer has to compete.
I bear this mark inside of me.
And I understand how much a such elementary disruption can be as significant as a cold and quiet mountain.
I accept this brutalist writing: the mark of the wood that formed me.
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8. |
Norm & Form
04:25
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Can I base everything on architectural basic principles?
Life is much more like a liquid than a static object.
And today I reject all the alchemist promises.
I can’t embrace the whole rendering, but I can bring specificity.
It’s a lifelong basic cognitive process,
I interpret and progressively master my words.
I forget scale rules and classic principles.
Between circles and squares,
I keep shaping space without proportion,
toward a truly and aggressive introspection.
As our apprehension of the world is just made of form and function,
this is a new attempt, let this be my modest contribution.
Life is so specific, whereas I might observe landscape as a simple generic object.
An object kept apart of any sensitive involvement.
I can’t feel any passion into abstraction.
It’s not a defeat, it’s not my endpoint,
but I think it’s now time to accept that form doesn’t ever follow function.
I refuse this modern rule. Life is the exception.
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9. |
Cutting Edges
01:59
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I could talk about society,
and explain my profound hatred of our modern world.
I’m not running out of arguments…
But I think I need more to only accept I’m a part of it.
I don’t want to establish a new constructive system.
It’s a classic scenario. No compassion. Only interpretation.
I am right handed and sometimes I write with my left hand as an exercise to my brain.
And for now, am I better armed against climatic accidents?
I’ve understand the need of an engagement with landscape making.
I am looking on it, and it's something other than a finished object.
I’ve only added new static images.
It’s a long course.
It’s all about cutting edges and a contemporary collage made of different ages.
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10. |
A Clarified Layout
02:43
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A natural look built on scientific evidence,
bringing a necessary rest to my mind.
A clarified layout keeping away from a mental suicide.
A meaning found in a whole interpretation.
In this exercise, I should never forget the relevance of a reversed gaze.
This offers me the ability of reading the words I’ve unconsciously drawn in blanks.
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DON'T TRUST THE HYPE recordz France
We don't sell music... we just spread our passion !
DIY or die !!!
DON'T TRUST THE HYPE recordz recommends:
DEAF PUNX records (my lazy sub-label)
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