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Momentini

-Heard on the radio yesterday Annie Ernaux talk about his new (small, as usual, and whose title escapes me) book on the sister died before his birth and it took "replace". Few words but true, no pathos or exhibitionism, deep emotions in a gentle voice say, nothing spectacular or protest, to deal with his lifestyle. The opposite of Christine Angot, whose only purpose m'insupporte.

- The other night, the Chinese in front of me passed the brushes in his kitchen window. A gas boiler on the wall white cream. It applies, gives a first shot back, again, heedless of who can see it. I do not know why, I began to smile.

- The bouquet of daffodils picked by Jean-Claude fades gradually. Few survivors in a smaller vase. Corollas yellow on green background of my desktop. Maybe tomorrow morning we will go into the woods in search of a new load.

- I hesitate now when I do not know, ask for cooking advice to women on the shelves of Casino. I was always answers, and politely. Many add their own stuff to make it better. People are not indifferent, it's easy to talk to is missing. I try to acquire it.

- Received, finally, the validation of three years of work that the pension fund did not seem to take into account. This halves the time I have left to work.

- A knife sharpener is spent in my building this week. I thought this job was no more. When I was a kid, there was one who came regularly, once or twice a year, with his small trailer pulled by hand, its guns and its wheel. I was a little scared but it remains below the collector of rabbit skins (in Saint-Etienne, we said the "pater" as the Latin word) which promised to be shouting the same words on the road. The latter, I always associated the butchering I saw how my father being killed when a (lapin!). I was never there when this happened.

- Preparing meals tonight. This will be rabbit with mustard (purchased skinned, naturally) and baking potatoes. A first between the creature and me. She has an interest to behave! I still have not managed to cut it cuts right through his hands. A first too!

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Twelve soil cord England

From a small book in original format (yes, one, I never got rid!) found on my shelves and entitled Almanac of nameless men (Michel Clévenot and Horst Widmann, The Letter, L'Harmattan, 1977):
March 1750.
A Mrs. paris woman aged fifty years, daughter of a professor in Paris, which was fucking pimp in his youth and then, like many others, has refined this art. She rented a large house on Rue de Bagneux, Faubourg Saint-Germain, where she has twelve girls from sixteen to twenty years, most of which are pretty, fun to receive and honest people.
This is all the more remarkable that there is a porter, a cook, four maids for girls (One thinks of Muni, in Belle de jour. personal reflection.) teacher to write, dance and music, to give them an education and a surgeon assigned to visit them every two days.
are given twelve books for fun during the day with one of the girls, and twenty-four, by man's head, to dinner. (It gives twelve floors cord of England to those who fear harm.)
The priest of St. Sulpice, informed of the retreat of fun in his parish, has brought his complaints to Berryer, lieutenant general of police , who replied that there with no noise or disturbance in this house, there was not to find fault, that he had to talk to the Comte d'Argenson, secretary of state in Paris. The vicar of Saint Sulpice has spoken to the archbishop who wanted to complain about such a scandal in Paris. It is said that the Comte d'Argenson told him he was not well informed, nothing was more tidy than this house, there was no noise: "This is going to so, my lord, "he said, that you and I could go."

A cord of England. We could talk at that time, gentlemen!

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How small ewer? A March 3

Speaking of Celine Sollers Great bookstore, it's really too much for me and for Sellers and Celine! Even during the holidays! I can hardly stand the conceit of the first and the style of the other. Never could get used to it!

past two days, incessant return to a consignment shop to get rid of some furniture and items that I no longer wanted. No regrets, even for a small library available to me by my grandmother for my eighteen years. The apartment and begins to breathe slowly, I myself breathing a different air. Less congested parts, development of things I like and soon we will almost organize competitions for roller skates. I even see the bottom of my white shelves, is to say! On the second trip, I saw him leaving the objects to be redeemed me by strangers who they liked, a small pottery ewer decorated with antique junk and bought almost as long ago in Sicily. All the better if they can win again. To me, they represented nothing. The sun was there, and that's what mattered.

I noticed today when I paid more attention, that the plates on the mailbox and the front door still bore the name of Peter. Seeing reappear, then they me invisible for more than five years, I decided to change them. There appear more than my name, which in accordance with my present life and reality. Again, no hesitation.

I also, this afternoon, threw many courses and documentation that I have more utility, which still careful not to always give my fever attiléenne. I already made blunders by acting too quickly. I have traveled very little that I threw. Enough to see the monstrous amount of work j'abattais few years ago, find crazes educational or mythological, at a time when I was immersed in it. Glimpsed a fragment of a diary written in 75 out of a large notebook found in Uzès, at the foot of the ducal palace. I did not read before the break. All this no longer interests me. As for teaching, I prefer to live the last three years of teaching instinct. Besides, who will verify. And I still have a little bottle ...