Les Métamorphoses de C. on Tumblr

Between December 2012 and June 2014, I conducted an experiment in micro-blogging with Tumblr. As I am no more feeding it, I decided to collect all those posts and put them together in a single stream into this blog, as a way to look back in the rear window and tell kind of a story.


24th Nov. 2012

On the moon a man is walking looking strangely at things. Who am I, where is my place, am I lost he thinks, amidst dust, sand and rocks illuminated by the dawn of earth.

Alice is not the only one who wanders through the looking glass. Orpheus, a long-time well known fellow of mine, specializes in one-day trips to the land of death.

She stares at me every night. She stands, waits, expects me to wake up, look straight to her. She is my personal death said the poet; because you know, death belongs only to you; she is the great love affair of your life.

Again and again, those same obsessives dream: she is waiting for me, she is expecting me, she will welcome me into her land, her wasted and ubiquitous country. I just need breaking the looking glass, jump out there. Her name is morphine.

And then the space age came into an end…
Earth’s first suburb abandoned after a nuclear winter scorched air, lands, waters, in a parallel world where cold war erupted. Fifty megatons blasts over all major US cities. The space age blossomed in our skies with the beauty of big bangs.
This nightmare never materialized, but space was abandoned, Moon was left behind, our inroad travels began, get your kicks, take a trip to road sixty-six.
To solitude.

life is a play in a movie in a novel in a speech in a cry of lust of pleasure of joy of shards of tears in my skin in my brain in my teeth in my eyelashes in my lungs for you and you and you and you and me

They are in my heart
London, in Marble Arch the entrance hall of the Cumberland Hotel - shot in November 2008 in the heart of the financial storm with my wife and my daughter. I was there for some silly reason maybe related to the events. Only this sweet memory remains and that’s all which matters.

Butterflies’ colored bough of emotions… after life of a tree’s leaves fondling our words… melting the ice of the pack where our houses stand… where our shelves stand… where we find you lastly patient friends… books of hours of yours… of her grace… forever ours flickering gently in the air. 

25th Nov. 2012

what do i want what is it to be a woman my freedom my desires beyond words what will happen did i commit a crime am i a monster
(Emmanuelle Riva as ‘Thérèse Desqueyroux’ in Georges Franju’s movie in 1962) 
27th Nov. 2012

Therese is running out of tears. Her dark blood spills over; maybe she is slowly dying of unspoken desires, too dangerous desires for a woman to be outspoken or perhaps just suffering an overdose of silence, kind of mute lips, mute hearts, mute skins, mute love, mute and mute and mute, so loudly muting or mutating that the growing silence is pushing inside her body and she is just overwhelmed by filthy emotions she cannot cope with. Poor girl, thought the judge, or the novelist, or the reader, or the filmmaker, or the film viewer, they all said she just wanted to feel what love means when bodies in slow motion blur one into the other like a floating ice cube melting on salted waters, tongues and fingers and hairs attached on a long cable from herself to herself through a body, could be a man’s, could be a woman’s, could be god or a plant, Therese suffers not being one of the pine trees standing in front of the beach in her property. But Therese wants wit and culture, crowded cities, she is dying for Paris, she is longing for Saint-Germain des Prés, she just wants to sit at a terrace, sip coffee, smoke a lot, and talk to poets. This is what love means to Therese. 
28th Nov. 2012

"Database Nation, the death of privacy in the twenty-first century", was a book’s title published by O’Reilly in the year 2000. It was a period on my life where I was considering to switch to IT security related jobs.
Thirteen years later this concern seems irrelevant, we do not know what privacy means anymore, and it looks as though it has always been like that, so “where’s the problem” might we ask, we’re all reduced by simple algorithms to a universal identifier combined with some descriptive field which appears to be an hyperlink in many cases, to a facebook page, a linkedin account or a tumblr blog, you name it.
Next step in digital evolution: you look straight into the eyes of a perfect stranger, and get connected immediately to his or her published information through a dynamic brain link - yet to be invented -, you can then scroll mentally on the list of his or her preferences, marital status, favourite quotes, pet’s names or any other useful information he or she - or the employer, the state, the corporations, the mafias, God himself, allows you to access, let know, interact.
Without a single word exchanged, you’re done.
Eye-to-eye scanning, the new way to interact efficiently in a future world of 9+ billion people.
Thanks for participating in this mental scanning process. You can go to sleep now. Don’t forget your dream pills. Select your favourite dream from the list below. 
29th Nov. 2012

Malevich’s black square, the first one was painted in 1915, is the quintessential work of art, maybe. I like its “brutal simplicity”, a reflection of myself, perception of the fundamentals without fuss, a timeless mirror in the face of void.

Dans “Les choses de la vie”, Claude Sautet parle du retournement de l’espérance, de la vie qui perce, qui jaillit dans une ultime joie, un ultime banquet avant l’éclosion du silence et de l’enfouissement. Quelle est tragique cette vie ultime, ce résumé à quoi la route nous conduit ? On est à chaque fois poignardé par le sursaut, l’amour du personnage pour Hélène qui se révèle enfin, vrai, vivant, certain, par les images d’un bonheur possible, hélas flou comme une fumée qui se dissipe et nous laisse en pleur. Rarement titre de film fut plus trompeur par la banalité de son propos, mais il rassure, il laisse l’effroi pudiquement de côté, et par cet artifice, trompe un peu la fatalité.
30th Nov. 2012

Orphée et Eurydice, l’opéra de Gluck (1762), transcendé par la chorégraphie de Pina Bausch (première version en 1976), reprise pour la troisième fois par le corps de ballet de l’Opéra de Paris, et représenté ici lors du passage au Palais Garnier au mois de février 2012. Les Métamorphoses de C. redécouvrent avec retard ce spectacle auquel ils avaient eu l’intention d’assister, mais ils n’en ont pas eu l’occasion pour une raison futile. Aucune excuse n’est tolérable pour l’amour de l’art.
Les Métamorphoses de C. présentent cet aperçu en complément d’une scène du film "La Traversée - variation d’un mythe", dont vous avez l’occasion de lire le scénario.
2nd Dec. 2012

The new epic battle of our times is fought between Amazon, Apple, Facebook and Google in a complex field of intertwined competition. May the bravest win the throne of Emperor of the online world and subject them all to the law of one ring, the one which grabs the realms of “Bigdata”, “Social”, “Mobile” and the “Cloud”.
3rd Dec. 2012

Why did I wait so long before listening to this masterpiece, PJ Harvey’s “Let England Shake” album. I was on a long journey out space, out of reach, out of touch. Maybe my spaceship crashed somewhere, and I was still waiting to come out and see the colors of the new, the promised, the Glorious Land. Maybe my space shift never took place and I was still waiting with all mankind to get Earth’s mother ship firing up the skies. But then, her voice, her songs, something traveling with radio waves for centuries finally reached my ears and now I feel it is time to travel back in time to my youth, to England, seventies.

05th Dec. 2012

tribute to “Knots” by Ronald D. Laing

Ta chevelure nouée, tes blonds épis tressés, mon oeil sûr de marin posé, ma main mêle et démêle ta coiffe, et le vent souffle dans tes voiles, au bonheur de mon regard, à la douceur de ton départ annoncé;
tes longues mèches flotteront de loin comme les drapeaux d’un navire sur la ligne d’horizon, et tu disparaîtras.
 Pas encore, pas si vite, laisse-moi recueillir les pépites de tes cheveux que je dénouerai un par un dans l’eau de la blonde rivière des chercheurs d’or.

6th Dec. 2012

The quintessential modernist architect who built a capital from scratch in Brazil’s heartland in the early fifties: Brasilia, the airplane shaped city, the futuristic rational and functional city of the ultimate enlightenment dream. A city of paradox, ‘past future’, living in a real world and in a parallel world at the same time. Those buildings are gateways to Brazyl, the chessboard game city where science-fiction writers live and create whatever a 1950’s imagination could dream of: space travel faster than light, robots designed to be compliant with the three laws of Saint-Asimov to always serve and respect Man, Planet Earth of natural beauty preserved and economies of abundance where scientific governments build a society looking and liking to Plato’s vision of the Great Architect, telepathic instant communication between human peers… all those childish stories which inspired my youth and still keep me longing with nostalgia of a Future That Could Have Happened, have been mysteriously connected, somehow, to a man, an architect, a visionary: Oscar Niemeyer.
22nd Dec. 2012

Bilan. Ne pas s’énerver, calme garder, le sentier sinue, qu’il est malaisé de le suivre. Que dois-je faire, que lire, que comprendre ? Je ne vois rien. J’écris en aveugle, les yeux fermés, littéralement. Pas mal l’essai. Et ce casque vissé sur la tête balance de la Country. Balançait.. Après quelques heures de sommeil, n’ose dire repos. Arcade Fire en boucle. Vacances enfin, heure des bilans, des comptes. Prépare la revue des mes états pour Dieu sait quels investisseurs. Ou pour Dieu lui-même ?
God has deep pockets. No cash flow worries, plenty of assets. Net Present Value of a human’s life, what could that be? Say God has chosen you to fulfill a specific purpose in life. This is why you are here Dude, the very reason of your existence. You have been chosen. Selected among a myriad of possibilities. You have been invested with a certain amount of God’s currency. But you might be disposed of, some projects stop early. Lifecycle is hazardous. Each Gate is a trap you’ve to pass. Your parents, your educators, your employers, your spouse, your children. What do you return to your investor? God knows your maturity, your time horizon. You don’t. Look at the formula in any basic financial textbook. Two key parameters: numbers of periods of t (time). And of course: r, the discounted rate of interest. What kind of expectations did the Great Venture Capitalist put on your head? For how long?
Capital-risque d’un côté. Création de valeur de l’autre. Connais-toi toi même dit le vieil adage. Connais ta valeur de marché.

Un paysage des Flandres, un canal, ciel si bas qu’il s’y noierait, la perfection d’une symétrie qui n’est pas de ce monde, mais dans l’oeil de la caméra, révélée, lumière lente qui inonde pour toujours un état particulier de l’être, gelé, l’idéal classique: et je les vois, la beauté du marbre des blanches colonnes encore debout de Delphes, je les devine à l’horizon, là où je vais, à la rencontre de mon oracle, au bout du plan de l’existence entre ciel et eau.
23rd Dec. 2012

"Yes M’am" … "have been sleepy?" … "Where you going?" … "In a hurry? So so" … "Show me your license"… "Yes you look suspicious"… This scene suggested more trouble and fear to me than the famous shower scene happening later in Hitchcock’s Psycho. The cop looking at Marion who is running with a lot of cash in her handbag encapsulates so much of the guilt and of the anxiety of an ordinary folk who is not innocent anymore. Making the connection with what will happen afterwards to Marion (Janet Leigh), I just realized shed had to pay her felony in hard cash and blood. In the biblical landscapes of the SouthWest (she is driving from Phoenix, Arizona to California), this enigmatic figure of the Cop behind his black glasses announces the just retribution of the guilty in an all-or-nothing system where property theft is a major crime. Delusional Norman Bates becomes the instrument of immanent justice.
Credit: Psycho (1960), Alfred Hitchcock
25th Dec. 2012

"My name is Cernan, Eugene Cernan, United States Navy Officer and Commander of Apollo 17. I am the last man known to have walked on the surface of the Moon, the eleventh one in that very special and limited suite of people. This picture was taken on December 19th, 1972 on the lunar valley of Taurus-Littrow during the final day of the mission which completed the Apollo Program. That makes forty years I am here, I have been there, waiting for someone else to come and resume the race, and I am so willing to pass the relay to anyone, be it a fellow US citizen, a French, a Russian, a Chinese, an Indian, a Brazilian, anyone mandated by his nation and representing Mother Earth, anyone getting the guts to come back here and move on with the mission to explore new worlds in name of mankind. Pass this message to your governments, resume the race to the Moon and beyond. Let not future historians pretend the space age ended in the twentieth century, if it ever happened. I am patient, I will wait here as long as it takes."
Extract from E. Cernan’s lost diaries, discovered on the Moon by the Mission Solaris on its pioneering journey to the confines of the solar system, year 2101. 
24th Feb. 2013

Experiment in real-time writing
This dialogue is the result of an experiment in real-time writing and publishing to my Facebook account I did yesterday, while looking at the same time at the movie: “The Andromeda Strain” (Robert Wise, 1971). Four sequences were “shot” with a picture, and immediately published on my Facebook’ status. Except for the last sequence, which diverges from the scenario, my recreation of the movie follows more or less the plot-line.
"There is a ‘fire alarm’, Sir!
- Yes, we need to go. Ring the bells. This is a total emergency crisis
- Sir, you must give order…
- Call the President in Situation Room.
- Sir, I insist, you need…
- Call Wildfire basis, Nevada! Prepare for the nukes.
- Yes Sir!”
- Yes… keep calm! Don’t see I’m busy?
- The Phantom has crashed 100 miles away from the contaminated zone!
- We’ve isolated the microorganism.
- Oh Sir, it’s keeping growing! Look there!
- Gosh! We’re doomed. Prepare the nukes”
"Sir! Emergency procedure. The joints are contaminated.
- Damned. 5 minutes before self-destruction. You’ve to stop that. The nuclear explosion will fuel the expansion of the Andromeda Strain!
- Energy to mass. My goodness!
- Keep going, put the key to the hole… put the key to the hole…”
- I know, it’s too late. It’ all around, it’s in the air.
- No Sir, the Andromeda strain has mutated. It is harmless.
- This virus is a crystal life form. What will happen to us now?
- Look, my skin is becoming brighter. And yourself. You shine like a million suns!
- We’re doomed.
- No, we’re becoming angels.”

It’s snowing, light flakes gently dropping over the city, my garden is covered with a white sheet of linen and the cat hesitates, going out, staying in, puts his whiskers out for five seconds then quickly comes back, tail up, triumphant, it’s a game he likes to play with me - now he is falling asleep, better in after all, warmer, softer - dreaming about a huge planet closing in dangerously, such an enormous space body which will gobble Earth in a snap, dreaming of two sisters looking happily to a snow gently dropping over their garden, except these are flakes of pure light, crystalline light - when it touches your skin, so goes my cat’s dream, no matter what you are, tree, cat, you, me, you start being uplifted in the air like dust sucked into a giant vacuum cleaner - such weird dreams I could never imagine going inside my cat’s head, and the snow is still falling outside this morning over Brussels. 
Kirsten Dunst and Charlotte Gainsbourg, in “Melancholia” (Lars von Trier, 2011)
08th Mar. 2013

Demain, viendra-t-elle // Chair de ma chair où es-tu // Poisson curry vert.
Amer Soleil trace // Sa route au ciel éloigné // Lune d’encre se cache.
Sens mes larmes aller // Au canal, à l’océan // Dans le seau, prend les.
Il neige ici-bas // Voyage au pays des morts // L’envers du décor.
Papier s’envolera // Pour Clara aux USA // Lecture pour Noël!
Elles, d’une lampe vert rouge // S’allument, plein feux dans le ciel // Eclats, filles de joie.
O, femmes de ma vie // Cinq à Sept à Cinq rubans // De mots pour vous déroulés. 
23rd May 2013

CoeurOuvert / Coeur Fermé (SoundCloud)

Ce texte est pour Milady.
Merci à Johanna pour la discussion sur le concept de sclérocardie.
Merci à Sandrine Debiez pour la belle Voix Off en support de ce texte.
26th May 2013

Long Playing (SoundClound)

Auteur: Christo Datso (2013), in “Les Métamorphoses de C.” / Chronique des Carver: cycle de nouvelles

Interprète: Sandrine Debiez Voix Off
28th May 2013

Look (SoundCloud)

Auteur: Christo Datso (2013), in “Les Métamorphoses de C.” / Chronique des Carver: cycle de nouvelles 

Interprète: Sandrine Debiez Voix Off
2nd Jun. 2013

L'arrivée à Londres (SoundCloud)

Auteur: Christo Datso (2013), in “Les Métamorphoses de C.” / Amsterdam - Arles (fragment d’une nouvelle, première version, en Q2/2012, de ce qui est devenu le Roman “La Route d’Arles” terminé Q1/2013). L’extrait présenté ici est tiré du chapitre III de la nouvelle disponible sur le blog.

Interprète: Sylvie Pardon Voix Off
4th Jun. 2013

Till Death Do Us Part
(ritual sentence from the marriage liturgy)

A note on “Ring”, with B-52s in the skies 
The CD player got repeating track 15, his favorite one, ”Urami Bushi” from Meiko Kaji, in Kill Bill Volume II’ soundtrack: 
Immersed in his thoughts the Professor was just as usual in this sunny day going without any direction, except to drive and drive until death would part him from himself. He was looking at the skies, checking the long white trails of the many flights crossing above the city, lifting up, or landing to the nearly international airport of Zaventhem. Were those white stripes a controlled experiment in weather change, a chemical spray aimed at cooling down the planet? A friend had explained him a crazy theory, conspiracist in essence, but the Professor was not a scientist, he could not tell, he was a humble and naïve teacher in Humanities, or rather, in inhumanities as he grimly said his auditories.
The Professor was a specialist of the American Civil War / War Between the States. Depending on whether you came from a Deep South state or not, you would tell the bloody episode lasting from 1861 to 1865 with the latter name rather than the former one.
He was a Southerner himself, but a long-time expatriate american citizen living in Europe had cracked some of his die-hard habits; and now, here, in this terminal city of all desires: Brussels (or Bruxelles, Brussel, even Brüzel, as the natives explained in their multilingual culture), he was putting live his latest grand experiment, to finish off with life, jump into nothingness, except it would take the shape of a novel.
He just imagined one of these civil flights turning instantly into a strategic bomber; the airplane he was following, a Boeing 787 Dreamliner from Nippon Airways morphed into the latest upgrade of the legendary Boeing B-52 Stratofortress. The ‘B-52’ had been in active service with the USAF since February 1955 ; the plan at the Pentagon was to get it retired not before 2040, and to keep it maybe even longer in operation Was there another example of a war machine extending nearly for a century in contemporary times? The Roman Legion as a powerful technology had lived longer, but it was a key institution of the Republic, then of the Empire.
Would the retirement of the B-52 mark the final point of the US military dominance? The end of the American Imperial Republic as he knew it?
He just figured out the B-52 dropping a single H-Bomb high in the sky above this ugly city, then the flower of the explosion covering gently and perfectly the shape of the Ring.

Those are some of the questions you might find in “Ring”, a circular novel based on the concept of a never-ending driving going slowly but surely amok around Brussels, a key city of today’s European Confederation of States (known as the “EU”), a literary experiment depicting the exciting life of the suburbs of a city, its industrial or commercial endless areas, its inhabitants. The novel will be centered around the inner thoughts and feelings of the Professor, as quickly depicted above.

6th Jun. 2013

Comment te dire adieu? (première partie) (SoundCloud)

Auteur: Christo Datso (2013), in “Les Métamorphoses de C.” / Comment te dire adieu?
mini-cycle de nouvelles

Interprète: Sandrine Debiez Voix Off

19th Jun. 2013

Comment te dire adieu? (deuxième partie) (SoundCloud)

Auteur: Christo Datso (2013), in “Les Métamorphoses de C.” / Comment te dire adieu?
mini-cycle de nouvelles

Interprète: Sandrine Debiez Voix Off

30th Jun. 2013

On a clear lazy evening / I sat gently on my bench / Smoking cigarettes // Then I saw her from the distant alley of poplar trees / At full speed she arrived / The Lady of the Night / She was creaking the brakes / Gnawing and eating the pavement / And stopped softly without a horn / Just in front of me // Her door opened / Nobody inside / She invited me for a ride / A full night ride / A crazy night ride / On the Ring // I left Timber / The golden retriever / Keeping the house / Jumped into her steel made body / And we went through the air / Riders on the Ring.
Jason - Poems on the Ring
written in my Pontiac GTO 1968

kantique (SoundCloud)
vous (SoundCloud)
terre-plein (SoundCloud)
textes / voix / environnements sonores / réalisation : Karoline Georges
musique : Alexandre Forest

Maelström éditions, Bruxelles, 2006 (Bookleg #22 réalisé à l’occasion de la performance de Karoline Georges au Marché de la Poésie de Montréal le 4 juin 2006)

19th June 2014

B-17s over Berlin

Bombers in the sky
 / When we were ruled from above
 / Steel, explosives and incendiaries
 / Dropped as a liturgy of the heavens
 / A good omen to all men of good fortune / 
For what we deserved rightly we got / A just 
 / Lamination
 / Instantiation
 / The government of heaven has strong rules 
/ You won’t lie
 / You won’t deceive
 / You won’t disappoint your fathers
 / Bombers in the sky are good
 / The bomb is good / 
Is light energy fire / 
Brute force
 / Entropy above entropy / 
It is good
 / We are happy to get a ticket to heavens.


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