Midnight philosophy without reason

This is a little something I wrote one late night some time ago and that I just found again, just wanted to share it with you. Enjoy!


Mais parmi les chacals, les panthères, les lices,
Les singes, les scorpions, les vautours, les serpents,
Les monstres glapissants, hurlants, grognants, rampants,
Dans la ménagerie infâme de nos vices,

II en est un plus laid, plus méchant, plus immonde!
Quoiqu’il ne pousse ni grands gestes ni grands cris,
Il ferait volontiers de la terre un débris
Et dans un bâillement avalerait le monde;

C’est l’Ennui! L’oeil chargé d’un pleur involontaire,
II rêve d’échafauds en fumant son houka.
Tu le connais, lecteur, ce monstre délicat,
— Hypocrite lecteur, — mon semblable, — mon frère!

— Charles Baudelaire

***

It’s a little past three in the morning here in France but I am still up, listening to music and procrastinating in front of my computer, and it is during these hours, when the world is as silent as death, that I feel the most inspired. Why is that? Perhaps it is the night surrounding me or the feeling that I’m alone on this earth, I don’t know, but it’s a mix of melancholy and happiness, excitation and fatigue. It is a very strange state of mind that makes you think about things that you wouldn’t think about in usual situations. It has the same effect as the shower or going to the restroom: one develops a philosophical spirit in these situations for some strange and unknown reasons. I tend to think it’s because in these moments we feel freed, for a few minutes, of all the problems and thoughts trapped in our heads and we allow ourselves to think about other things, to see the world differently. Maybe it is also because we are bored during these moments and we try to feed our minds with complicated questions.

In these times I think about things like the fate of the universe, the reason of our existence and sometimes it frightens me as I try to imagine what the world will be after I have passed away, after I am not part of it anymore. It scares me to think that one day I will cease to exist and that I won’t even be conscious to know that I have ceased to exist. I fear boredom. Not boredom in the usual sense, Boredom, with a capital B, as Baudelaire describes it. Boredom that waits patiently for you, the Boredom that fills your life and that you try to forget by distracting your mind off of it. It scares me a lot. But as I think about it I can’t help but put things into perspective and tell myself that I still have a long life to live and many things to do.

I think about my stories, those I have finished (the one actually), those I’m writing and those I might write. I dream to become a great writer, to publish my stories for thousands of people to read, but I know I still have work to do. Sometime I even dream to become a poet, like Charles Baudelaire. I don’t know if you, dear reader, have heard of him, but to my mind he is one of the greatest french poets of all time. I can’t stop from admiring the quality and the complexity of his work, every time you read his poems there is new content to be found. Unfortunately he wasn’t recognized as such until long after his death and that angers me a bit because he had real talent. Sadly not every great artist, or great man in general, is recognized in his time.

Don’t ask me why I’m writing this, I have no idea, I just felt like rambling a little and telling people about Baudelaire a bit, to get you to know him. I also wanted to talk about how I feel linked to his writings sometimes, he is one of the rare poets that I enjoy reading, even if his writings are not the most joyous ones. And he also symbolizes the quality of work that I want to reach with my stories and that I hope to achieve one day. It’s time for me to go to sleep but I still don’t wish to go, I want to stay up and write all night, I want to work with this feeling as long as I can, but I know that it’s not possible and soon day will rise and I will lose this sensation. I can only hope that, as tomorrow is a new day, it will also be a new night.

The rider in the storm

Image source unknown


Night. The darkest hour. When all hope disappears. Thunder is rumbling, the wind is howling madly. The grass on the hills is bending under the power of the storm. Rain is falling hard on the ground, plundering the earth. A dark shadow is moving. A horse is running, a rider on its back. Running as fast as it can, as if its life depended on it. Running as quick as the wind. He rides, never looking back, hoping they are okay. Praying to reach them in time. The world seems against him; as if the gods were mad at him. As if they had unleashed Hell on Earth. Droplets of water, as cold and hard as ice hits him in the face, rendering him unable to see more than a few meters in front of him.

Lightning strikes, once, twice, giving shape to the shadow of a ghost. A ghost from the past that is catching up on him. He knows he should run away but he can’t. He has to cope with that growing unease growing inside him. They need him! He has to get there at all cost! He has to make it, his steed knows it also. The mighty stallion gains speed, outrunning the heavy gusts of wind. Its mane buzzing frantically as it gains more speed, sparks forming around its legs. Getting bigger and more frequent with each new step. Suddenly it lights up in a thunderous boom, thousands of tiny lighting bolts coming out of its mane and its tail, covering its entire body. It gains even more speed, running so fast it outruns even the heavenly flashes. Cutting through the mad rain, leaving a burnt trail behind it. He runs an impossible race. A race for his friends. A race against time, against himself. A race against death…


Here is a text I wrote some time ago, a scene from one of my stories that I have had in mind for some time.

In these locks

In these locks

.

Not before did I understand,

In all those songs and all my reads,

The true value of these long strands,

The real beauty of those thin threads.

.

Her hair was long and cascading

Of warm bronze colour, calm beauty,

Oh, all these years – how many? –

Took it to grow to this dreaming?

.

If I could touch, if I could feel,

If in these soft locks I could pass

My fingers and, oh so gently…

If, just for a second, I dared…

 

Welcome to life.

I feel crazy. I’m excited, elated, unable to rest, focus nor calm down. Ideas, so many ideas. Or, more seriously, flashes, bribes, pieces of ideas, coming, going, dancing all around me, toying with me, my emotions and my memory. I have beginnings, ends and a thousand romances in between my fingers but none of them can I write down because of this unstable state of mind. Jumping from Ore to Alexandre then to the one with the magic ink writer back to the Halfling and so on and so forth. every moment of every second! I want to make something out of this, out of these ideas. Something good, something great, I want to write, to tell my stories, but I can’t… not until I settle down and make a choice, decide, choose, set the course and follow a single path. So many possibilities. Exhilerating, annoying, awesome feeling but frustrating. With ifs I could rebuild the world from scratch. But that’s not what I wanna do, I want to build my world from scratch. I want to, I need to, I have to, I will. But how? When? Soon. Perhaps. I hope. I can’t decide. I can’t write if I can’t decide. I have to write. Damn it!


 

So this is something that I wrote an evening, a few days ago, as I was trying to write something but couldn’t manage for my life to write down anything I had in mind. I just went with the feeling and let the pen do what it had to, I let my hand guide itself and came up with this rant. I don’t know why but tonight a song reminded me of this rant and the feeling I had in my heart while I was writing it. I have such amazing stories to write, such great ideas I don’t manage to make the most of… It’s extremely frustrating! You can’t even imagine! Or perhaps you can, I don’t know… But I the worst is that I realized that this doesn’t only apply to my writing, it also happens in the rest of my life too!I’m not someone who can manage to get motivated without any reason or to be serious and dedicated in doing things.

‘I have beginnings, ends and a thousand romances in between my fingers but none of them can I write…’

Especially my studies and finding a job.I try but not enough and, as soon as it gets hard or complicated I avoid it as best I can. Unconsciously or consciously I don’t know but it does happen. And in writing it happens too, I try but when I struggle I move on to something else and don’t try hard enough… It’s a big problem. I realize that but getting over it is extremely hard. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it, at least not easily or very quickly, but I am working on it. I will be trying harder, even my hardest, to work on my writings because it’s one of the only things I really feel motivated for! Also I will try to apply some of that motivation to my studies, I like what I’m doing this year, I can’t screw things up, I have to suck it up and just do it.

If I try hard enough then, one day, perhaps…

Anyway, I’m not here to rant, just to try to explain what motivated me to write this and what I feel. I don’t know why, I just had to do it… I think that this song is not for nothing in this feeling : “J’essaye, j’essaye” from the Casseurs Flowters, a french singer (or band I don’t really know), which I just discovered and fell in love with. I’m not usually a fan of the genre of music they make but this time I seem to really be growing fond of it. Both the melody and the lyrics stir something inside me in a way that I don’t really understand but that I can feel deeply. Especially during the parts where the old woman sings. I can’t explain it, I can just feel it. It’s a bit like when I read poems that, without knowing, I end up loving for reasons unknown to me. And I wanted to share it a bit with you, somehow hoping you could get what I feel or at least what I mean or try to mean…

Anyways, that’s all for tonight, thank you all and enjoy. :)

♪ J’essaye, j’essaye de faire de mon mieux et je m’ennuie quand tout devient sérieux. ♫

(I don’t know if you’ll be able to understand the lyrics but both the meaning and the melody are worth listening to, at least they really get to me.)


Oh, and just before I go : no Echoes of Power tonight, I have literally no idea about how I’m going to write the next part which is very important and is going to (hopefully) start the really interesting part of the story (I also have very little motivation, which really doesn’t help). So yeah, no update on that side today, hopefully tomorrow I’ll have figured out how I want to write this and with great luck you might even get two parts instead of one. Who knows… In the mean time, have a great evening and see you later.

Why I love randomly learning more about languages – Part Un

If I had to name any reason why I love studying and sometimes look up words or meanings in French or in English (less in other languages, though sometimes I do look up some Japanese or German, because I’m only fluent in the first two) it would be because it’s always surprisingly interesting to learn about the history and the evolution of a word. Where it comes from, what it meant, what it means now and how you’re supposed to spell/pronounce it, I find this exercise to be quite fun! Most of the time it happens because I’m not sure about how a word translates from a language into another or what the words means or how it’s spelled, but sometimes I do just think of a word and look it up and then keep looking at other words, and that goes on and on until I finally remember I have other things to do…

The reason I am telling you about this is because recently I have made a new discovery (well, actually I think I had already realized this before but it became blatantly apparent yesterday) which adds to the irk I have when I can’t find the right translation/equivalent from one language to the other. So yesterday I discovered that… there is no word for dusk in French. And it unnerves my to a point where I might even say that I can’t even. (Yeah, that much.) I believe you all know the word dusk, its spelling, pronunciation and meaning, but still let me give you the details here.

So dusk is the moment, in the evening, just after the sunset, when the sun has disappeared below the horizon but when you can still see its light, it’s basically the moment when all light disappears just before night. The equivalent for the morning would be dawn, the moment when light starts to come back at the horizon. In a day, in order, you have night (no sunlight), then dawn (sunlight but no sun), sunrise (the sun appears), the day passes, then the sun sets, sunset (the sun starts to disappear below the horizon), dusk (no more sun but still some light) and then night again. The moment in between dawn and sunrise or sunset and dusk are called twilight, when you can see the light of the sun but not the sun itself, which means that dawn and dusk are literally the first and last lights of the day. So there can be a morning twilight and an evening twilight.

Now that knowledge in itself is quite interesting, especially for a writer, when you want to write about the beginning or the ending of the day. I realized, while reading the articles about that subject, that I, myself, had often thought sunrise and dawn to be the same thing for sunset and dusk, I even mistook twilight‘s meaning. Now, however it is ever so clear, and I feel all the better for it! Unfortunately, knowledge comes with a price, and a second realization followed this first one. I did of course look up all this vocabulary in French, being a multilingual writer and reader I had to know for myself, and oh despair! I didn’t find a word in my mother tongue that could be considered and equivalent to it.

There are words for the rest though, but not as ‘cool’, if I might say so, as in English. What I mean by this is that we use phrases or expressions and not single words to describe these events.

Night is translated into nuit or la nuit. Day is jour or le jour. Twilight, I found out, is called le crépuscule, which is a nice word I have to admit. Dawn is l’aube, which is also a cool word to have. Up to that point it’s quite straightforward and the same but then it gets harder. Sunrise and sunset are very simple and easy to understand words but in french we don’t really have that. We have lever de soleil, which literally translates as the rising/rise of the sun, for sunrise and coucher de soleil for sunset, so yeah, you might say that it is also quite nice to have phrase/expressions like this but having a single and precise word for  these things would be way cooler in my opinion. Well, I’m not being entirely frank about all this, we do have a word for sunriseaurore, which I find extremely beautiful and poetic (just as aube) and which is awesome, but yet, nothing for coucher de soleil


Part 2 over here !

Enough music is never enough!

I couldn’t live my life without music, this is an absolute truth. I don’t simply like music or enjoy it, no, it’s something much deeper than that. Music is a bit like the weather to me, as strange as it may seem it influences my emotions and my attitude much more than most other aspects of my life. When the sun is up and the sky is clear I feel extremely happy and motivated to do whatever I want to do, whereas when it’s raining or cloudy I almost automatically feel depressed or unmotivated/lazy.

The difference between night and day also impacts my writing, I’m a lot more inspired to write during the early mornings or the late evenings, when the sun is either rising, setting or completely down, like during the night. I don’t know why but it seems to stimulate my mind and my imagination. That can be a problem from time to time as I finally get inspired to write when I am completely exhausted… (Yep, that’s annoying when it happens.)

Well music also plays an equally important role in my life. With music I feel happy, emotional, inspired, I feel alive and free somehow. I don’t know why or how but some songs just have this deep effect on me, they touch something deep inside my mind and they give me strength, imagination and love. I just realized that I had already made a post about this subject a few weeks back, you can find it here : Music is love, music is life, so I wont expand too much on this subject since I believe I’ve already said a lot back then.

I will simply say this : today the song that makes me feel alive and free is Louder, Harder, Better by Galantis, that I just found yesterday on SuicideSheep’s Youtube channel, it’s really an awesome piece of sounds. I don’t know why but it resonates within me and it make me smile. In these sort of situations the only thing I can hope for is to one day be able to make people feel and smile with my writing, just as this song makes me feel and smile!

Enjoy! ;)