Old fashioned

Fruity Loops screws up again... so be it. Let's reinstall. I don't need much in the way of virtual synths, after all, to do what I want. The heaviest and most unstable stuff will go out the window, or at worst I'll only use it at Laurence's, or everything else will struggle but at least work – the ways of computing are impenetrable.

In any case, I'm back in a "love my Fostex" period... that pretty little digital studio, in screaming red... hardware is always sexier, of course. Even a damn analog 4-track. It's just a question of getting rid of the luxury tastes of the M.A.O. – infinite effects and synths, ease of editing... because when it comes down to it, we're bored stiff.

Finished printing David's texts, our fanzine drafts, and my own stuff, to sum up: Immersion dans l'Oubli, La Revue des Larves Astrales, Nihil Pop, L'Adieu au Soleil and L'Idiot Mystique. Forever unfinished, yet perfect as they are. I almost regret not giving them a public existence. But that only awakens the desire to relaunch something new and ambitious, and my desire to start writing again is all the stronger for it. Stuff that will probably be of no interest to anyone, except a couple of librarians, who will mark it 848.03 and forget about it forever in the literature section...

But wasn't it in that forgotten shelf full of abstruse essays that I was the only one to borrow that I spent some of the best moments of my adolescence?

Last weekend, I bought a tiny old notebook of invoices at a second-hand shop in Saint-Mihiel... thick paper, yellowed with age, a bit hard, a nib should stick in it... but I'll write in felt-tip as always. I like more and more this idea of writing in old paper, which has already had a life. It's like re-recording on tape... But what to write in them? I've been thinking of writing a long short story directly in them, for example, something that's a work of art in the end, not just another sketchbook... We'll see.