Horrifying and obscene drawings

I think about things, about my priorities, about the order I should give to the elements of my life – once again. What is music, and all those narcissistic wankings about success, "stages" and people to know, reputation, posterity, etc., worth in the face of Laurence?

To the concrete, daily reality of Laurence, of my life with her? The need she has for me, the role, the importance she allows me to have in real life?

Writing is one way of getting rid of this overflow of "creativity" that I can't get rid of through music, for all kinds of reasons. Besides, I've always wanted to write; but with the growing awareness over the years (or simply the acceptance) that I'll never be a "real" writer; I don't have the guts to write a whole novel, to keep the distance, to take the time it takes, this asceticism.

But thanks in part to Delwiche and our creations like Jésus Clochard, NPO and co, I've started to develop literary forms that suit the way I write, the way I feel, and the things I want to deal with. Fictional memories, for example. Or descriptions of imaginary photographs. Fake press articles. Attributing my real memories to a fictional character. Speaking under the name of a real person, usurping them, inventing fictitious lives for them, but which perhaps would be another form of truth, not just invention (although, in the ethymological sense of inventing: discovering treasure, valuable objects, etc.). And much, much more.

This blog itself is a way of unburdening myself of my creativity – a word that stinks, in fact, because it's not about art but about an overflow of images, an overflow of words that need to get out, of beings that demand to be named and of forms that want to be born.

I've rediscovered the desire to devote myself to the blog of the Association des Survivants de Sarreguemines. I'm going to give a little less to weird, macabre or far-fetched stories, as I don't want this blog to become a big joke or a local News of the World. I'm going to concentrate on micro-remembrances, another literary form I've found suited to my project. And on the multiplication, again, of voices. A real chorus of ghosts.

I hope to be able to take lots of photos of Sarreguemines tomorrow, to put them on the blog, to make it more beautiful, more nostalgic. I'd like as many people from Sarreguemines as possible to know and love it, despite its quirkiness and a few unhealthy corners. I'd like them to talk about it on the net, to write to me, too, I'd like to pass on and make people understand how I feel about this town.

I have to accept that I live on the net and that I'm just another nerd – I mean, not a guitar hero who rocks out two meters above the crowd. I'll never be that. There's no point in doing anything to make me one: it's a waste of energy. It's hard to accept, but I have to act in the shadows and with the tools I have – which are also the tools of an age. There must be some kind of nobility in that...

I also have to do it because it's one of the only ways I can get in touch with people. A slightly bizarre way, like a kid stopping adults in the street to show them horrible, obscene drawings, hoping that they'll take an interest in him, that they'll be nice to him. But that's all I've got.