THE FLAMBOYANT YEARS OF ONE FAILED STAR.

LES FLAMBOYANTES ANNÉES D'UNE STAR RATÉE, by Pascal H.
*SHORT EXTRACTS* OF THE 2012 FINAL VERSION RIGHT HERE!

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Thursday, June 16, 2011

English translations down below each page.
____________________________________

LES FLAMBOYANTES

ANNÉES

D'UNE

STAR


RATÉE


PascalH.

Extraits / Extracts

''Je détestais la classe ouvrière tout entière. Elle m'avait fait trop souffrir à montrer indéfectiblement du doigt, ignorante du reste, et ma voix de tantouze et ma démarche de gonzesse sur ce physique arabisant de macho qui lui, du haut de sa crête de cent quatre-vingt-quinze centimètres me mettait constamment en alerte. Les vaches! Et sa notion de travail pour gagner sa vie comme on dit, depuis tout gamin m'avait trop écoeurée, comme m'avait écoeuré le goût du saucisson et des petits pinards pas chers qu'elle trouvait toujours bons. Je préférai très tôt dès la sortie du lycée, aller traînasser sur les quais du Rhône autour de ses pissotières de cocagne pour y faire les cent pas d'une putain sublimée en tapette affirmée, à m'y branler dedans ou quémander là-dehors, fortune, fuir ce monde de péquenauds qui me tuait, avant que de conquérir, noble et beau, Hollywood et ses sommets, au plus haut. ''



THE FLAMBOYANT YEARS OF ONE FAILED STAR 

BY PASCAL H.


''I was indeed about to lay plenty of eggs as a big fat hen on the day I left that eighth working class home district of mine, and of which I hated all of it that made me hate, way beyond, the entire working class itself. It had all along made me suffer far too much since birth, by continuously pointing out the sound of my puffy voice as well as my queer's gait, all together carried with this Arab macho type face of mine I dragged along from the top of my six and half feet keeping me permanently alert, fully ignorant that they were of the rest I could carry inside. The swines! And its notion to make a living as they said, had through the years simply made me throw up. It had been as sickening as the taste of cheap wines and local meals they always found tasty were. I preferred to walk along the Rhone river bank of Lyon waddling like a whore by the public lavatories loitering, and wank inside, or search for fortune outside as an asserted faggot, escaping my way, the only way I knew then to be and that was my own, from that peasants' world that killed me, before my time of fame, at its highest peaks and higher, in Hollywood arrives. I just did not have to fall off the mountains.''



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