Rodéo nocturne sur les boulevards périphériques parisiens

Que ce soit pour des raisons d’ordre économiques, sociales, environnementales, ou tout simplement pour des logiques plus technocratiques et politiciennes, on a eu tendance, ces dernières années, à rejeter à la périphérie tout ce qu’on ne voulait plus voir au centre. Les lourdes, polluantes et trop encombrantes infrastructures autoroutières et industrielles n’ont pas échappées à la règle. Les phénomènes observés de gentryfication et de boboisation, synonymes de réappropriation, voire de ré-accaparation des centres par les couches de la population les plus fortunées, ont accélérés la pénurie de logements et la flambée des prix de l’immobilier au détriment des plus pauvres, qui désertent les centres villes au profit de la proche banlieue voire de la campagne. Il n’est plus question de fuite des cerveaux mais d’une véritable fuite des travailleurs. Ce sont ces milliers de personnes qui travaillent à Paris et vivent en Banlieue, qui empruntent les mêmes moyens de circulation au même moment (tôt le matin et tard le soir) qu’il s’agit de réguler, canaliser et orienter.

Sous la pression démographique Paris devient de plus en plus à l’étroit dans sa ceinture périphérique. La sur-densification et l’étalement urbain galopant tendent progressivement à absorber les boulevards périphériques, pourtant initialement conçus pour contourner la capitale et ses embouteillages. On recouvre désormais la ceinture périphérique à grands frais, pour la transformer en promenades plantées et l’effacer totalement du paysage urbain. Il faut faire une boucle complète du périphérique, ce qui en pratique doit arriver assez peu, pour se rendre compte du traitement inégal de la ceinture, symptomatique des disparités qui existent entre arrondissements parisiens. Les quartiers favorisés de l’Ouest disposent ainsi d’infrastructures qui dissimulent totalement sous des tunnels, éclairés comme en plein jour,  les nuisances du périphérique, auxquels sont exposés les quartiers plus défavorisés de l’Est parisien.

Les jours du Paris intra-muros sont comptés. L’A86, à la périphérie de la périphérie, semble inexorablement vouée à désengorger, si ce n’est supplanter le périphérique parisien. A l’ère du Grand Paris, les entreprises ne s’y sont pas trompées et mises déjà sur le développement de cet axe de circulation. Cofiroute vient d’investir deux milliards d’euros dans dix kilomètres d’un tunnel d’un nouveau genre, à deux niveaux de circulation superposés, dont la plaquette promotionnelle vante les mérites d’un éclairage lumière du jour.

Now then! Second blog in a day! I am on FIRE today!
And here’s the reason why! I have decided to knuckle down and enter a damn competition!
Threadless have a competition running at the moment that will close soon, under the theme Travel. Simple rules, create a T-Shirt design based around the theme of Travel with no more than 8 colours (including Black and White), and you can win some stuff and get your T-shirt sold, easy!

So here it is. I have been on Illustrator drawing up ideas all damn day, and I got as far as 2 designs. This one got finished and submitted, after about 6 hours, and a further 2 hours trying to upload to bastard thing. It can allegedly be found here but it’s being a bit of a bitch currently and not doing it, so that link might not work. Sorry.
But here it is anyway:

Pig love.
L

On early Saturday mornings, I go with my brothers to check traps we have already set all along Lizard Creek, in the tall brown grass and weeds, near the muddy river banks. My brothers skin and walk to town to sell what we catch. They get a good price for our animal skins from a dealer named Doug, who sells them for more money, to a glove company of which we don’t even know the name. My brothers feel I have a second sense and luckiness which they cannot match, but I am too shy and don’t like to talk, so I never go with them into town to sell what we catch. This makes for a great partnership. When they come home from selling to Doug, we split the money three ways. My brothers usually use their cut of money to go into town to party, dance and chase girls. I am saving my money for a new pair of running shoes.

 One Saturday morning near sunrise, I was walking up a hill with two freshly skinned beaver pelts slung from either wrist, tied with strips of butcher string. People tell me, I am a pretty girl, with eyes as sharp as ice picks, my lips curl and my figure is round and plush, but still at the edge of slim, I’m small, but fit. Boys are always chasing after me, so my older brothers are constantly on guard against any possible violators. Keeping them away from me is something my Dad has taught them to do. Anyway, I pretty much feel I can have my pick of boys, but that doesn’t matter to me because I have already found the one for me, it is Hughe. He is the only one for me.

I am thinking of him as I walk. Thinking of how witty he is and of his thick square hands, strong and firm as they wrap around my hand, and we’ve been holding hands for years, since we were only ten years old. That’s when we first found each other and we have been inseparably since that first encounter at the play ground swings back in the fifth grade. I know he is mine. I can’t wait for his call later tonight. We always talk for hours on the telephone on Saturday evenings when we are not together. I think of his big, dark eyes and of his warm soft kisses, then I have to stop right in my tracks, at the sensation that shivers through me from the top of my head down to my toes. I feel fuzzy and lost in my thoughts.

 While I am standing there, stopped halfway up the hill, lost on the narrow path, a drift in the charms of Hughe, I never see Jack Martin running down the same path. I didn’t even hear him coming toward me until it was way too late. He heads toward me like a wild horse making a break for it, and rams into me like a football tackler in the NFL. He yells,

 “Move aside, Indian squaw!”

 So, I reply, “Better slow down, ugly white boy!”

 He tries to get up from where we collide and land on the ground, but out of reflex, I wrap both my arms around him, holding on to him so that his body is laying long ways on top of my own. His weight surprises me, because he is a slender, muscular, but narrowed backed boy. I decide to hold him more firmly by tangling my legs with his. I have seen him wear his P.E. shorts and because I am a strong distance runner, I already know my legs are stronger than his chicken legs, so he is stuck on top of me for a long time once my legs are wrapped and holding his legs.

 What is he doing out here near our traps? I see a cluster of animal skins tied to his wrist, too. Did he take them from our traps? He is the oldest son of a family of known thieves, so I was not exactly wrong to suspect him of stealing from our traps. Stealing our animal skins just fits what I know of that blood line, so I guessed he was running off with our profits. Who knows? I just didn’t want my two, older brothers to think I was not able enough to stop anyone from stealing from our business, mostly, being I am a bit younger and a girl, I felt extra motivated to protect and defend our animal skins, so there was no way I was going to let a skinny, white boy steal from us while I was in charge of collecting from our traps! And so, I set my mind and all my might not to let go of Jack Martin, no matter how strong a fight he gave me. Not that holding him was an easy task.

 “Let me go, you damn Indian,” he hissed. His big white teeth, looking set and strong. “You smell like a skunk.”

 He is just a thin white boy from a family everyone knew was bad, loaded with criminal poison. He tries shaking his arm free, but he can’t, then he tries shaking his legs free, but can’t. I have to laugh because I am in so much control of his body, when he shakes it, I am only getting a better grip on him. The beaver skins tied to my wrists, are flopped across his shoulders, in opposite directions so that I am able to grip them, better pinning him onto me. I am planted under him as solid as tree roots. He can’t move. I hang on while he tries, struggling unsuccessfully. I am just teasing him, playing with him as he struggles to get free of me. Then he head slams me.

 “Skinny boy,” I wince, “don’t start it!”

 Then I tuck my head into his body so it spears his neck and chest. I feel a bit ashamed of my retaliation, so I  relaxed my grip on him a bit. He pulls up from me for a moment, just taking aim, he tries to head slam me again, but I am able to move my head, tucking it into his chest just in time for him to miss hitting me, again. His blue eyes glaze over, like a stunned bird, hurt but still fighting for life.

 “Lay there, you ugly bitch,” he says.

 I say nothing to him, just hold him, pinned on top of the full length of me.

 “I want our skins, skinny white boy, dirty Martin!” I scream into his face.

 He stares into my eyes, angry and quiet, his mouth clenched tightly.

 “Just give me those skins,” I say, “ and I’ll let you go. I’m taking them back to my brothers.”

 I get a cold chill as he burns down on top of me with such fierceness, that I feel sure he hasn’t understood what a little thing it is I am asking of him. His eyes are tight and crazy wild.

 In a reasonable voice, I say to him, “You shouldn’t have taken them. Drop them and I’ll let you up. You can just go, when you have dropped them.”

 “Lemme go!” he grunts.

 “No,” I say.

 He lays still on top of me, then goes stiller. I keep him pinned on top of me. Something happens. He pushes his hips inside mine. My hips lock to either side of his hips and I am holding him in a light vise.

He stiffens like he is surprised that I have softened my hold on him. He lowers his chest closer, touching, softly pressing into my breasts. Then I am caught and give into him. He is moving gracefully, on top of me, warm and gentle as he kisses me. When I look into his face, I know he will be smiling, because he has won at the contest I started on the side of this hill. When I finally opened my eyes, looking into his face, he is smiling and he says,

 “I’ve kissed better.”

 I know that isn’t true because it is most likely his first kiss, ever. His voice is shaking, so I know I still scare him. I let go of him, scramble to grab the skins he had dropped in the dirt, and run as fast and as far from him as I can get. Still, he sort of stayed with me for a long time after our Saturday morning kiss. That’s probably why I never told my brothers about the time I caught Jack Martin stealing from our traps.

I’ve been watching this happen since I lived in my first college town 20 years ago.  A college girl gets drunk, behaves like a whore, and is consequentially treated like one.  Upon regaining her sobriety, she is embarrassed by her drunken promiscuity.  In order to feel better about herself and preserve what might be a reputation as a dignified young lady, she levels charges of rape.  The lives of the accused are immediately ruined, and she is often free to recant her story without  consequence if the charges are proven false.  I have no doubt that just as with the Hofstra University gang rape allegations, the Sacred Heart University “conspiracy to commit gang rape” allegations will be proven false.

In my opinion, it’s a simple case; the drunken slut was offended that she was the designated bull in the game of Rodeo!.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with “Rodeo!”, it is a game in which a male student will have doggy-style sex with a female student while his friends wait outside the room.  He’ll then yell “Rodeo!” and wrap his arms around the girl to prevent her from getting up and leaving the room.  His friends will storm into the room and watch her struggle to get off of her knees (as this is a common reaction in this situation).  I DO NOT KNOW if the incident was a game of Rodeo!, but after reading limited details and listening to the statements of Timothy Sanders’s attorney, I suspect that it was.

I’ve lived just off campus of University of Virginia, University of Washington, U C Santa Barbara, UCLA, Cal Poly, Pepperdine University, and San Francisco State University.  I’ve attended my share of college parties.  The behavior of college students (drunken and sober) can trump even the sleaziest bachelor party stripper hijinks I’ve ever seen.  Can you blame me if I’m tepid about sending my daughter to college?  Will whites even be allowed to attend college in a decade from now?

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2009/more/11/24/lacrosse.rape.case.ap/index.html

Zazie will probably never be known in the English-speaking world, but in native France, she is something of an institution. She is especially effective as a vocalist and lyricist, more than a musician. At first listen, many of her earlier albums (“Je, Tu, Ils” in particular) seem like generic French Pop, and they may have been so, but in her later years (the singer is now in her mid-40s), Zazie discovered a side of herself that bordered on near mysticism, and all of her work since then has been highly creative and really, really good.

2004’s “Rodeo” is one such album. Its an eclectic mix of pop-rock songs with an Eastern Influence. Zazie’s fascination with India, in particular, influenced the making of the album, and it shows. On the plaintive ballad “La Pluie et le Beau Temps” (“The Rain and the good times”), she evokes a wistful combination of The Beatles and Feist. On “Lola Majeure” she turns up the action quotient a bit more, and the stunning “Doolididom” is made for singing along to. Zazie knows a good tune when she hears it – and this album has those tunes in spades. There is something about a girl singing in French, and even better when every song is SO different – the genres here vary from soul, rock, fusion and just good old fashioned regular pop.

Zazie’s Indian Fascination also resulted in her most recent album, 2007’s “Totem” being as good as it is. In fact, do try to get the Rodeo Special Edition (CD+DVD) from Amazon’s French website – the DVD is an hour-long film, set completely in India, with Zazie performing each song in a lavish Bollywood-style mounted production. They must have spent a bomb on this – we have Zazie worshipping in a temple, impressing a young Indian Prince with her highly stylized and choreographed dancing, and ultimately getting drenched in the Indian Monsoons while singing about lost love. This is much more beautiful than my descriptions, so do yourself a favor and pick up the Special Edition of this album – its really worth it!

If you liked this, do check out her “Totem” from 2007, and another underrated album, “Zen” from 1995. All of her albums are essential purchases, in my opinion.

1. Dolce Vita
2. J’Aime J’Aime Pas
3. Excuse Moi
4. Toc Toc Toc
5. Pluie et le Beau Temps
6. Lola Majeure
7. Rodéo
8. Slow
9. Doolididom
10. Sauver le Monde
11. Oui
12. J’Arrive

Nu mi-e milă! Nu îmi pasă de târfele care nu au altă soluţie decât să îşi vândă trupul, nu mă interesează că ţiganii au 15 suflete de hrănit şi de asta fură. Nu mă mai impresionează lacrimile unui bărbat, nu mai cred în tragedia unui necunoscut.

Cineva mi-a zis că nu din răutate fac asta, ci pentru a supravieţui. Ei bine refuz să cred asta. Lumea e plină de şarlatani care de abia aşteaptă să ai un moment de slăbiciune şi te taxează. Într-o lume ca asta, să fii uman este un defect. Am fost de prea multe ori înşelată de astfel de oameni. De asta am ales să transform mila în silă.

Dar mă doare să văd masacrul delfinilor…

… îmi pasă de bieţii tauri…

… şi în general sufăr din cauza cruzimii faţă de animale.

Da… îmi pasă mai mult de animale decât de oameni. Iar dacă asta înseamnă că nu am suflet sau că sunt superficială sau că pur şi simplu sunt tâmpită, atunci… ei bine atunci înseamnă că într-un sfârşit am aflat cine sunt.

Nice cowboy hat and belt buckle.  What’s up Marlboro Man?  You get that hat from the farm?  No.  Oh, I see, it was a gift from your niece who picked it up from the swag table at the Hannah Montana / Miley Cyrus concert last week.  And that belt with the oversized, almost novelty, belt buckle – did you win it at the rodeo or from the turkey shoot at the county fair?  It was an impulse buy from near the register at Abercrombie & Fitch.  At 36, aren’t you a little old to be shopping there?  But we digress.

That’s great that you order table service and the most expensive bottle in the place, but didn’t you look around and realize this is a dive bar?  That 22 oz. Budweiser Select big beer was a good choice for someone with such discerning taste and a refined palate.  Oh, this is a fine dining establishment and martini bar.  You look like a tool ordering the $350 drink made with Remy Martin Louis XIII cognac, Dom Pérignon champagne, a dash of orange liquor, and garnished with a sapphire in the bottom of the glass to impress the already drunk bar fly cougar he has been hitting on all night.  ‘Nuff said.

Yep, he’s an all around classy dude.  Needless to say, keep on trying.

[Submitted by Dutch]

Love it!
Michelle

Bracelet $1500

Charm $750

4X6 Images From This Rodeo Are Available On A Disk. $125.00 Plus tax and shipping. These can be used for face book, personal websites, my space pages, and e-mailing as well as your own printing. THIS IS PERSONAL USE ONLY. No reproduction of any disk is permitted. These images can not be used for magazine submissions, or magazine promotional material. You must come to About You Photography for all of those uses. Proper credit must always be given to A bout You Photography. No scanning or other form of reproduction of any physical image purchased from About You Photography is allowed.

Qualifications (No exceptions made).
–Rodeo’s can not be combined. (Only 1 rodeo per disk)
–Up to 10 images per disk
–One Immediate Family per disk. (husband,wife,direct children only)
–These are basic images. No editing.
–Additional images $20 per image.

Images can not be manipulated in any manner or combined for any reason. Collages must be purchased through About You Photography. Photographer’s signature can not be removed for any reason.

Purchase disks from 2 rodeos and get a third rodeo disk free! The buy 2 get one free offer is good thru Dec 15th ONLY. No exceptions.

A partir de la una de la tarde,

todos los días del año,

viento!!!!

http://www.cuestadelviento.net/

Photographed by c6 cowboy

The Pro-Youth Rodeo is in town this weekend and some of the best kids in Texas are competing here in Stephenville. These kids were born on a horse and make the most difficult moves with ease. Nice to see a lose rein and a snaffle on this one…he is a broke horse, going for the win!

Captured with: D700, 70-200mm VR, f/3.2, 1/320, ISO 1000. Ambient light, hand held.

– License

Hamilton, the county seat of Harris County was established on March 2, 1828 and is rich in history. The present courthouse, in Neoclassical in style, was built in 1908 and is on the National Register of Historic Places. The Agri-Center facility in Hamilton hosts many exciting events throughout the year including agricultural shows and rodeos. A nationally sanctioned Ossahatchee Indian Festival and Pow Wow will be held in October at the Harris County Soccer Complex. The festival will feature authentic Indian crafts, dance competition, primitive skills, demonstrations, and on-site Indian village. You’ll find a variety of restaurants in Hamilton as well as the Magnolia Hall Bed & Breakfast, an 1890s Victorian home with antique-filled rooms and gracious accommodations. For more information, visit the Pine Mountain Destination Guide

Barrel racing Tasha asked me to create 4 very different styled calendars to slip under her Christmas tree. And I had tons of fun doing it! Aren’t these great!

Michelle

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Artiste de la semaine :  EMILIANA TORRINI

Emiliana Torrini

en vidéo :

Emiliana est italienne/islandaise et elle fit ces débuts en 1995 avec un album solo, mais se fit connaître en 1999 avec Love in the Time of Science.

Le premier album de sortie mondiale (Love in the Time of Science) est plutôt ambiance/trip hop/électronique, alors que les autres albums sont plus pop ou acoustique.

Son style est très varié et on aime son authenticité et sa voix. Artiste définitivement complète, elle vient chercher tout le monde.

Elle fait la pièce de Lord of the Ring “Gollum’s Song”, une pub pour Fiat et elle a joué avec plusieurs artistes comme Moby, sting et d’autres.

Ses albums :

- Me and Armini          -pop-

- Fisherman’s Woman             -acoustique/folk-

- Love in the Time of Science              -trip hop/électronique/ambiance

- Merman

- Crouçie d’où là

Rodeo events

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 Note: For all Flat Tony adventures click the drop down Category box in the side bar & select “Flat Tony”

After becoming familiar with the indoors of his 3D home in Tasmania (see last Friday’s post) Flat Tony checks out some blog posts then heads outside to see what’s going on in the yard.

Later in the day I had some rose branches to shred, Flat Tony insisted on helping but I wasn’t too keen on the idea…

Then a bit got jammed, I think the Division of Work Place Health & Safety may have something to say about his blockage clearing methods.

After a busy day he was all tuckered out & went off to bed early. However I think he may have a dispute to settle with Dixie over ownership rights to the bed…

Note: He is actually lying down on Dixie’s bed although it kinda looks like he’s standing up. Must be a funny camera angle.