You dwellers of random keywords, led by cobalt stem cells from Dr Benway, gazing at trip-hop and dark train surroundings, you've reached the station where Stéphane Roux once was. There's an hotel-motel, sequels, victims and pixels escalate in thousand unities. It's about nihilism and the lack of it inflitrated in my free online book, The not-being. Millions of pixels are some sort of visual blog that may be title The not-seeing, in the end. Welcome to Islam Inc.Vous, chasseurs de mots-clés aléatoires, attisés par l'odeur des cellules souches couleur cobalt du Dr Benway, écoutant du trip-hop sur les larges avenues, vous avez atteint la station où était Stéphane Roux. Il y a un hotel-motel, des restes, beaucoup de déchets et de victimes, des pixels et des mots par milliers. On parle nihilisme et son absence, ab sens, le non-être. Un journal visuel ou pas grand chose de plus de ce qui restera sur terre de lui. Bienvenu à Islam Inc.
Miss Entropy2006-01-08
Miss Entropy68I met her in the bus on my way out; She smiled gently at me while i was staring closely at her. On her sight, i felt intimidated but it lasted 10 minutes until an old man standing between us became an obtrusive obstacle. I got outside of the bus and didn't look back until i was at the corner of the street and i'll guess she must have stayed inside because there was no hand for me to grab or to hold gently.VanityI, again, i forgive myself in contemplation of numb numbers. Where does she go ? What does she do ? The asphalt in my throat, partial success, no stress, one time, maybe it's supposed to bleed in rest. I pray for her words to come in vain and vanity. The clown comes and stays forever. The dream I had involved me and C.T. leaving to live in Chile. BubblebathEver again will i beg you to stayHere's what i understood from our two distant encounters: We were minerals, the options were minimal, i'll never leave you but you handle the consequences. The highway is for gamblers, public action takes no auction. The restless need somewhere to dwell after the hot war, nickers of a dummy girl, what underneath her squirt ?If ever i look backI would ask for lemon pie because we never reached the vanishing point. She's muted by the distance, key eye witness, through away the key and the condom i've never used. We'll find a church in Chile, in secret, and turn the home into a shrine. It isn't me when i look in the mirror, it ain't me when fix down the clock, what are you talking about ? The face of Noah in my daal, the minister sinner, sooner or later, we'll meet again, with my bones.FalsifyI have to tell lies and, inbetween, tell you a secret. This may be some sort of steganography, the transition is poor and the method does escalate. I never was free, i never was blinded. The signs pass me by, all i need is to get high, the creature turned into a beast, let there be no peace.Atomic circlesDistant encounter, sixth floor, painless steel, seeds and leechers ratio, hustler's corporation, holding onto nothing, moral elevator, plastic fantastic, atomic selector, nodes and noodles, miss your blond hair, turned into a book, lord was and never will be.VanilityRich man wants more toys. Mind the gap. She tends to read some sacred books. I collected more proofs of the existence of something else, inbetween, something above, may be it the chaos theory, a god or a computer. If i don't get sugar highs, i feel depressed and terrified. Liquid state and growing fat. Suits my gray hair, suits my suits, suit the mindframe.DorminationLemon pie for breakfast everyday, in dreams, in every nap i take while off the payload. No direction stoned. I never meant to be cruel, mysterious ways of the prophet, 21 strings, three angels. The devasion, the slaveplan, the trees for the paper, i shall repent for silver, i shall sin for gold. Indeed, i'm fed up of guessing, of trying to find a soul, of asking questions to the walls.The ragman draws squaresVanishing resolution revolution, desolation row, she never calls me back. I'd rather get high, if it wasn't the case. Understanding is forgiving, shelter from the money and the sex. He kills me with self-confidence, midget in the crew i never was a part of. I'm still standing alone at the front row, never looking back, always understood.I'll never release nor repentMy medication is so massive and expensive, i can't leave the country for good. The furstration is nothing. The redemption is also expensive. Confusion, the waitress refuses to serve me with lemon pie. I feel selfish in the crowd, deafen by my pod, blinded by my 149. I won't go to the party because the carnival is over since 1995.The tower of bonesI miss the rising of the sun, the shine the moon and the sum of the tunes. Gray fades to while but the soundtrack sucks, let's trash the street and play the role of uncorrupted cops. I could take but i mind indulge pain. Chemical clown under a new clear stoned thrown away. This shall be legal.Underneath the cosinus of the soulEverbody cares for something and loves it's self. At least. I was at Les near Tijuana, high on acid, casual Jane, and i drowned. I'll dive. Back to Bayswater, the basement flat, the tired tapes, i moved away and ever looked muted. You clothes were stolen, the postcard is still there, smoke like a factory, the method is the unsane, same god, two religions, three tickets, for you.NavigationPreviousNextEn même temps, en français 
The beat goes on and on but one question remains : :
Where am I ?
