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Azure and steel (excerpts) The mysterious star

Farmers leave grasslands become
workers. The plant grows
houses in mining towns and courée, quartered. The plant
develops, operates long enough for
settled habits, tradition, a
culture. Traditional working-class culture,
unions, public education and camaraderie.

The industrial revolution of the late 19th
the first world war, economic crisis,
the popular front and the 2nd World War.
The reconstruction and modernization, "30
glorious", the oil crisis, the crisis of
steel and one day the plant closure
for various "good reasons". Forever.

Inventory for closing: competition,
modernization, resource depletion,
greed of shareholders, the obsolescence of
tools, the militancy of workers, the scholarship
and moods, the labor market, the flight of capital
... The factory closed and the money goes
off. Money is the trunk, evaporates.

The human being is heavier than silver. It
reacts slower than money. A human being
is solid, real or virtual cash.
Money moves like lightning. Click of a mouse
: here's the other side of the earth.
He has been here, he fainted there.
here it is exchanged, it enhances it. He travels

without a passport. The money goes elsewhere but
living person remains in place, remains on the
tile. The living person does not leave his
home, house, his memories, his history.
Otherwise the living person is torn as
gutted house, a box with buttons reversed
in the rubble, crushed a music box.

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was exceeded mills, sawmills, more than the mile markers, small clouds of pink candy, while a thin crescent moon rises . It flows into the unknown, under these spouts bronze them anthracite jazz, swing in all its cadmium pulsating blues notes. Under fire from sunflowers. We écrit le front contre la nuit. A cette mystérieuse étoile dans la loupe du porte-plume, dont chaque poème garde un petit grain dans ses mots-lumière.
A cette planète porteuse qui nous a fait migrant dans une grande jam stellaire. Sur cette boule qu'on prend pour le nombril des sphères dont les chorus de plus en plus dissonent. Sur cette galette dont les sillons chahutent l'aiguille et qui pourrait valser dans le grand trou noir. On écrit pour ne pas trop garder les pieds sur terre, sur ce manège où nos solos sont cautères sur un cheval de bois. On écrit avec le boitement de Jules Laforgue dans ces bois de pins où depuis le commencement du monde, il fait toujours nuit.

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Small and other

Journey in Bonneval October 21, our great cocksucking sapper atmosphere denouncing the drying of the neck bagnolesque organized by our life Essenciel refiners and diesel this brief was stained with zinc popular " And it is still the little ones who will drink, not the other ... " Small ... obviously not under six feet, but then that's when we are small? far, which catch the belt? and other , which are hell, which are they? At which end of the tax shield? At what level of oil? In any case, these, as implied by the projection, do not drink, do not clink glasses. So there are indeed two France, that of small and that of other .

Without doubt, a sort of Freudian slip for the ruler, since his enthronement by Fouquet's for other behalf of small . Labor together more, earn more, longer, ever more. And when trinqueurs see red themselves hoarse in the streets, the famous people who elected proclament à son écoute estiment que c'est le résultat d'un déficit de communication. Que, plus tard, ils n'auront pas assez de maux pour les remercier. Qu'en gros, ils sont des aveugles au pays des éclairés par la seule électricité du suffrage universel.

Mais alors comment justifier le gavage d'une réforme, celle des retraites, qui ne figurait pas au catalogue du candidat Sarko en 2007 ? Peut-elle être frappée de l'onction d'un suffrage majoritaire? Non. Ceux qui ne sont pas les autres, attendent toujours l'explication rational leader. Lengthening the life of walkers? Paying insufficient pigs? Broken scale of birth? Lengthening of the unemployed? System imbalance? Nervous? Policy? Financial? Here we touch the bone. And if the premium pension problem was prolonging survival other. The rats in the garbage crisis.

The proposed reform today is in addition to the people left in payment by the apprentices, these financial pox of business, real dung of ringing, cannibals ties. That's double rations crisis and purging administered by the same people who poured oil on Soaring bank. But since small sugarcoat have done great and bleeding must spit in the small pelvis.

Again we must respond to the voracity of the market. Throw him in the mouth the vertebra diamond jubilee. Yet for many small , retirement is not a problem but a solution. A solution to their operation, their physical deterioration, their psychological death, their desire for suicide, their desire for freedom, their desire to live. If the work was, for the majority, what it is for other , a time of achievement, fulfillment and happiness in the meadow with the sorrel to the key, the small would probably least want to give a great blow pump to other.

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Early on, it was perceived that we could kick mile ferry eye in the fallow words, by winning all the little streams of language in many lives. Layering our harbors and ends of the world. Expand the art of the fugue. Very quickly, the nose in the weeds in the folded triangle in middle of the palms, we learned that, as in the sheet or the sheet, there were seeds to clear the page, the fullness of love . That the coup was the foreshore is unreasonable time. Long was drunk at the weep book down his Whitewater over the lips. It was long believed that wandering spirits would pass unnoticed.

Until the day when the air has eaten the cherries remugle crunchies. This margin is exhilarating sling appeared to mind the greyness. Until the day they seized around, brooded ribbon hypnotic flow of the world. All confused the language of trade. Until one day, they have sniffed fleeting soul, then reduces our paper in exile islands of grief. Until one day it all became useful, packed in the daily death. Where they fomented roundup of books. Proclaimed their bonfire.

Until the night, engaged by heart, we have blown under the cloak funeral

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France on the fly!

Obviously in times of crisis , rigor unpronounceable, clamping of scholarships, our policies end up having the brain below the belt. By thinking only of that. After the small indulgence of Rachida, Ségolène frolic in a televised, on retirement, with Arlette Chabot, found nothing more symbolic, referring to the hardship that cancer testes farmers. Since then, probably by female solidarity, our very economic Christine Lagarde, has said in Washington that women had less sexual approach responsibilities, they cast less libido, less testosterone.

Hortefeux While the spirited soldier was quick to prove him right. Brice is yes and, at times whimsical round, a very funny if, admittedly, it would not give Coluche without confession. Yet it is a specialist in uncontrolled skidding. A few months ago he claimed that Arabic for Auvergne ( when there's only one ... ) except Amine-Benalia Brouch, our coal merchant in question, probably slightly convinced by the freestyle recovery of the first cap of France has since loudly slammed the door of his party, the UMP. Sunday, RTL, it is escalated to entertain us on his recent alarms about terrorist risk. While he was maliciously arrested on files ethnic he has not hesitated to declare There are two main files: the file fingerprint genitals, and a genetic database . Glands, genital and confused ... digital file obtained as gegene?

Without doubt, rising to a summer when he had the image of Putin, is continuing the Roma into the bathroom.

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Azure and steel

Following his residency writer between the walls of the psychiatric hospital Armentieres, Lucien Suel had written "The patience of Maureen, his beautiful second novel.

Today he gives us" Azure and steel, very beautiful heraldic title for a poetic constructed from an immersion in literary Fives Lille neighborhood called " plant, a 17-ha industrial lung, fallow and returned in conversion. In steel and glass under Fives Cail Babcock, up to 6000 workers forged thousands of locomotives, rails, railway bridges, stations such as Orsay or to dig the Channel tunnel. And then the economic machine is inexorably coming halt the beautiful human work. The financial gain was made in the machinery and the working class was left on the floor, kicked out of her history and the "factory" left to rust ... it reopens for Heritage Days. During

three months, Lucien Suel surveyed this place of joy and suffering, questioned the collective social memory, collected the feelings of ordinary passersby, in the past questioned the pavement, this bitumen as the future of tomorrow. Inventoried at the same Depardon any signs of friction. For three months he asked of words, words, words made of bricks, mirroring local material eventually build its own memorial book, like a song wall to the glory of this popular area where a certain Pierre Degeyter , rigger fivois had created the "International". Lucien Suel is neither an ethnologist, neither a sociologist nor a historian, is a poet who does not report but mounts all small or large events in emotion. Who do not read things, but sees them. Who does not show the space but dwells. He is a poet whose language gives new breath to the atmosphere, a beautiful soul brick instead. Mason whose verb always and ever upwards.

Note if you buy the book, additional audio download.

Lucien Suel reads a compact version and slightly retouched with colors by Laura Chailloux diatonic. As a means Long blues absolutely heartbreaking galloping along the vocal cords.

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The area lost

Meaulnes party, I was no longer his adventure companion, the brother of the hunter tracks, I turned back into a boy from the village like other ... Black and white back. Row gray body. He, on the left, we deliver. The adolescent in his scar. The sticky, the neck wall, which looks behind the bellows, the other wall. Figure walled him.
time far, far far, but silent as always, from this moment, we are no longer in their view. We got out of the frame. We look for the slot. I had convinced myself that he had to meet a young girl. It was probably much more beautiful than that of any country, more beautiful than Jane, which was visible in the garden of the nuns by the keyhole . Photo
September, gouge faces. He, on the side, that covers it. The teenager incommunicado. The incurable, we wanted to invisible, which faces behind the frosted the devastation from the sky. Her eyes flushed out. Day
far, far far, but silent as always, from this moment, we are no longer their Matte. It is the icy dormitory, in the light at the bottom of pages, our air traveler tired, hungry but amazed. It builds up to a thousand artifices' s vanish in search of the area lost of the blonde girl who had put on her blue eyes Meaulnes softly, holding his lip a little bitten. It was the heart that beats the path.

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10/10/10

10/10/10, it rings three times, one side ding ding dong, then coa coa coa nine that Sunday morning? Our tails beat Romania 2-0. White black blue, the coach with his profile has learned the right lines for its dealers coqaïne. Delarue had fewer nose. The ideal of all cocaine emotional exhibitionists in need of psychotropic television compensates through sport and the public understanding. is not known to date about the compensation that is transfused Contador. Mélanchon pricks him with invective . On a video buzz today, we will treat Pujadas of stooge and bastard. Not enough to beat a CRT. Even fundamentalist. Long ago that the host has defrocked journalist. Long ago that people ranked the people. TV kills serious reality. Where are the télécologues?

10/10/10, it strikes three blows, one side bling bang, then coa coa coa nine that Sunday morning? Our cleaners have goodness Roma 700-0. white white white, his holiness has béniouiouir our romantic canon Darling, who came to preach his parish election, suddenly feeling a rat at the ballot box of the lord, the church and the French Republic have the same requirement against anything that undermines the dignity of the human person. Nothing to beat a tiger, even Chinese. This morning the wife of dissident Liu Xiaobo crowned by Stockholm disappeared on her way to prison. This morning, since the award Friday, not one word louder than the other to seek the presidency as Obama's release of the new Nobel laureate for peace. Ideogram flat.

10/10/10, a day like any other, with its addition of intoxication and indignity.

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Courage, only the Earth is eternal

You know very well that according to our own myopic vision of only the stars are away from our destructive impulses. We're only one species of an estimated one hundred million. Many of us have enjoyed our domination enjoy all these species. In fact, we've created some aspects of religion to reassure us and convince us that we have reason to sully all these other species as we please. We held a virtual theocracy of the rape of the land that guarantees the acceptability, if not sacred, all our depredations.

her years ago, I thought we spread a thin cotton sheet on the continent and its history, before taking a step back and look at where the blood filtering through the fabric ... When I think of our alleged Indian Wars were in the strict sense of conquest and simple real estate transactions.

We consider this universe from inside and outwards, rather than vice versa. There can be no concept of authorized under ethnic or genetic, which inevitably becomes the main source of human butchery.

Xenophobia is simply a biological element of the human animal, which is struggling to overcome this handicap.

As the Sioux say, "courage, only the earth is eternal."

If we fail to understand the reality of life is an aggregate of perceptions and the nature of all species, we are doomed, and the land that we already assassinate.

Excerpts from "the sidelines" the bio of Jim Harrison