You're you.

Love is not weakness (or Mr. Hyde's return).

"T' Is You" | Performance by David Noir | Where's Mr. Hyde's weakness? | The Generator | Photo © Skall
"| Performance by David Noir | Where's Mr. Hyde's weakness? | The Generator | Photo © Skall
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Love is not weakness. Love is not the fear of losing. Love is not crawling for forgiveness. I'm talking to the weird and special. The singular and the plural. For whom the problem, always the same, is an even greater one today than yesterday. You who want to show your white paw. Who would like to make you a little lighter, a little darker. Who dreams of marriage in the paradise of the norm. The strange animal that you are collaborates. Your gain in space is surface area. A few square meters allocated to your revolt. The occupant in you, knows how to count perfectly well. Your diplomatic fights make the food of the ogre. So nothing's going to change, baby. Like the mild virus, I'll contaminate the culture a little, and you, behind your pretty mask, believe me, are you for sure.

White Card [ frasq ]#12 - Performance Meeting | The Generator

SATURDAY 10 OCT - 8pm

With Claire Faugouin " Fata Morgana " - David Noir " T'es toi " - Cyril Leclerc " Attentats sonores " - Deed Julius " Loving Blob "

Texts, videos, game: David Noir

Light and sound : Baptiste Joxe
T'es toi | Visual © David Noir
You are you | Visual © David Noir

You're giving me a hard time

T'es toi | Fruit of my passion | Photo © David Noir
You are you | Passion Fruit | Photo © David Noir

Curved parody of the mask underpants veran, advertisement figure

Beverage, Hyde transformation

SNCF jingle, Lisieux, here Lisieux, make sure you haven't forgotten anything on the train

I'm looking for interest somewhere (in bags, in people's homes)

Garland, Christmas, Christmas (a well forgotten actor)

Art will always be a bluff; art is not meant to be anything but illusion.

Art can never be political, otherwise it would just be politics...

The violence of art, violent art, the violent desire of art, the violence of the desire to express violence through art cannot return to real violence.

Baba cool, cook of my two, you have nutmeg because Magellan came to massacre the Indian king lapu lapu in the Philippines, you understand on your little shelves, blood from 5 centuries ago hihi

So you can't get away with it

To live in respect of the other located at more than 20, 100 m, out of my sight does not exist,

Zero, the O of oblivion,

The individual becomes an idea

Whether we defend her or not.

He's no longer a person

You do what you can, but doing what you can is always doing the worst.

We've known each other, we've recognized each other (cane bags)

Corona that love

Text stuck in accessory (you're making me feel better)

Paper bag filled with water

You're not holding up.

René char Dassaut (industrial poet association)

Jokes are jokes ah ah ah

The trouble with an idea is there's no imagination in it.

I don't like consistency on the surface, it's making it look like we have something to say because we'd have ideas. The good idea is the tree that hides the desert of imagination.

In fact, I can no longer stand anything that makes and constitutes our society. It is not, it is no longer and never will be mine.

Neither by his injustices, nor by his crimes, nor by his struggles, nor by his hopes, which will never be mine either.

With this declaration I sign today before you my act of social dissociation.

I secede both by my disassociation and by my truculent contempt.

I use words in any way I want and the best part is that they all don't matter...

I definitely only wish my whim without negotiation and trimming.

If I am unable to do so in deeds, prevented by the law imposed on individuals for the pre-established and supposed benefit of the greatest number, this one rule will order my thinking in the absence of my conduct.

I will thus be in total coherence with myself since only the intimate life of the intellect belongs to us in this world wanted and decreed for us at our birth.

Your company, which you hold so dear and in which you put so much hope in constantly tinkering with it, is certainly the most boring meeting I have ever met or even glimpsed.

Consistency makes no sense through words and audible language.

In this world, language is only necessary to say no.

No no no no no no no no no no no

This society is the vampire of the individual, not the other way around...

Most of what you think is important is your prison...

To make society as they say... is just propaganda for a model...

You really want to change something, then give up your (fashion) style, give up all of them.

All the elements at your fingertips

I like that it doesn't matter, art and all that, first of all for me, that's what I'm looking for.

I prefer abbots downtown to the cool, unkempt worldliness

The admiring submissive renouncing his own light...

Watermelon and round head

Songs of mine

Washing machine

The bitter north

Laundry

Lama with a limp

Teeth and hair

Bassinet, you bassinet me

My songs on the tablet

My cock my friend

Electroshock watermelon experiment stings

You're you portrait

Wig and nails in your head watermelon

The head connects the thought or, which exasperates itself, which harms itself

I pulled a lump out of my head like a football.

Moments too expensive

Let's break the desire to understand

Dandy who's not afraid of mud

I'm tired of the common good as a leitmotif...

Poor mind poor spirit

Intimacy is against isolation

It's the ball of banality, naivety and naive clichés.

The black guy's got to be playing it cool.

The white is necessarily crawling

The woman is a fighter

The man is an admirer

Liars, liars, liars, liars, liars, liars, liars, liars.

You don't know what to do anymore, do you?

Privacy versus isolation

The common good as an ultimate horizon does not make me dream...

My dream is more important than your lives

You condemned to the poor poetry of civic and uncivilized followers

I'm God, poor pie.

It's me. It's me.

Here, I've got pictures, look, it's useless, this, this, this, this, or anything else, it's all good, who cares, eh?

Me without panties and you revoltingly bad-base junkie...

I kiss you oh beautiful day to you, oh hey say you want to suck my dick, hey hey hey

Oh beautiful day, and then the old people, ah yes, before it was the old people now it's the old people; it's like the earth oh wonder it's become the planet, oh oh and you follow, you asshole, you get trapped by the tongue and that's serious, much more serious than you think.

And I'm not talking about the wonderful ones. There are no more of those cakes in the bakery.

Luckily there are always acorns

Empty bags, crowd of empty bags, empty your bag.

The common good is first of all that of each individual

Turn the glove over

We should put masks over our eyes instead (sleep in the plane) because there is nothing to see.

Like in planes we fly but there's nothing to see...

You tear yourself away from the earthly attraction, you thought you were stunned to be living one of humanity's dreams and nothing

Put on the mask and go to sleep. So down here, you think there's less than nothing

Preserved in the formal

I don't have high ambitions for the likes of me...

It's fun to see how much the lay people in this country have Christian values (helping, blah, sharing).

I, for example, can't stand beggars (whip bags).

DOM JUAN.- So you may not be comfortable.

Alas, sir, I am in the greatest need in the world.

DOM JUAN.- You are mocking; a man who prays to Heaven all day long cannot fail to be well in his affairs.

THE POVERTY. - I assure you, sir, I don't usually have a piece of bread to put under my teeth.

DOM JUAN.- This is strange, and you are very badly recognized for your care; ah, ah, I am going to give you a golden Louis later, if you want to swear.

I don't want to be approached like this...

You're you.

It's badly seen to generalize, even beauf, but it's the first thing we do when we associate a work with the artist who produces it, eh I don't like so-and-so, I don't like so-and-so.

Zemmour and Trump at least have it in them to remind the world of the freedom to say what's on their minds, even if it's bullshit; so who are the real allies of glibness at heart?

Where is your free will, your thought of yourself that is not a cliché, the risk of your singularity, your personal reflection? What good are you, huh? Parrot, poop, poop, poop, poop, poop, poop, poop, poop, poop, poop, poop, poop.

You're enriching the debate? Ah ah I'd miss being more social than you !

But I don't care about the debate, not that it matters.

Shut up.

Art lying down, standing up, getting out of things board games and the like

Well, I had a collection of delivery bags.

They're called hurrah

That's good.

Naughty little bastard

As long as it doesn't say anything worthwhile...

It's good to do nothing

The ideologue is either naive or manipulative.

Respect respect, it is normal to declare a war of insult to Pakistan's religious fanatics

Here, I've got a step that's getting tight.

Our freedom of tone (well, for those who grant it to themselves or who own it) is an insult to others, but we are gargling with culture, but we don't give a damn about the faces of some (most of a world that is absolutely and terribly religious).

Then you should know, we don't give a damn about them or we don't give a damn about our lay evangelization...

Well yes, we can't accept such archaic thoughts, even if the anti-american abortionists are not yet walking around in the streets with cleavers

Mr. Hyde, whoa, downshifting !!!

Just because you crawl doesn't mean you become someone else...

What is does not look like what is supposed to be

Admit your reality before you pretend to be something else. Then work.

I'm not a date, shit, thanks for keeping your distance, I'm poo contact.

Poo contact, haha, eh she's good!

All those bags are completely stupid, no, they're plastic surgeons' ideas, stupid plastic surgeon shit, hey, hey, hey

I'm a racist, supremacist, segregationist, art separatist.

A harp, a little lyre in the nose goes up the night of the nose

Eyes in the wooden ceiling

How to say it

What is it like to be clear with yourself

A pile of flesh and bone

Getting to see

When I eat a little too much fat, I see life in a big way...

Terrorizing terrorists ah

Misfortune begins by naming things

Not bad to name them, no, no, you think I have a nose for it Camus, no, no, neither good nor bad, just name them; that's enough to make the poetry of silence collapse.

Shut up

You just missed a chance to change, a chance to be wise, to turn inward, then open up and know how to keep your mouth shut...

The poison of good, healthy thinking!

...and I think to myself, what a wonderful world... 

Oh yeah!

"| David Noir | Mr. Hyde Against Weakness | The Generator | Photo © Bernard Bousquet

"T'es toi" | David Noir | The Generator | Photo © Skall
"| David Noir | The Generator | Photo © Skall
David Noir | T'es toi | Story Instagram © Léa Dasenka for The Generator
David Noir | T'es toi | Story Instagram © Léa Dasenka for The Generator
David Noir | T'es toi | Story Instagram © Léa Dasenka for The Generator
David Noir | T'es toi | Story Instagram © Léa Dasenka for The Generator