Journal of Karin Clercq
A Cop Patrick Dewolf, photo shoot. Bernard Barbereau credit
First, an exclusive photo of the telefilm A Cop Patrick Dewolf in which I play the role of Gloria, a daughter of the night, which has a show every night at a club in
Paris. I have the opportunity in this role to a play back on one of my songs, disoriented, from my third album Life truant, and was chosen by the production. The difference is amazing! But no, unfortunately that is not my new outfit scene gentlemen, sorry:) I am not yet the new Belgian Mylène Farmer. He would first take that I qq dance class:) The stripper is behind me (I do not have his correct name, I'm about to try to find it but when I I ' added) was really very impressed by his professionalism. She danced on the bar, slicing through the air like a feather but with the strength of a girl who knows what she wants in her head and her body.
Beside, I write a lot right now ...
Writing for me is like breathing deeply. Take time to get back to listening to the world of others. Writing is a lonely but open, stimulating. Headlock too. I feel that the days are never long enough when I write. And then the writing is tyrannical, she wants exclusivity. When I have the misfortune to have something else in the day, she is capricious and breath's inspiration does not come. Of stay at home.
So it annoys me.
And I type on my keyboard harder hoping to wake.
stronger. Even stronger. But she seems to sleep deeply vicious.
I end up going out, watching the sky, think of something else. If nothing comes. I take more administrative activities, technical or family if it is time! Abandoned the idea of a song. It gives me no choice. Life is taking its course. One hour password. in a corner of my head but the machine does not stop. The sentences run in all directions.
With shock and provoke.
Suddenly, it happens. Just when I'm in the store parmesan:)
I ran into my office, my computer turns on. As always, she tumbled down without warning messed up all my plans before a relaxing evening series (Weeds), a good book (a biography of Oona Chaplin) or a glass of wine on the terrace.
But it is there. I am glad to feel close to me.
A verse arrives, refined. A chorus too. I need to test it quickly to see what happens. I turn on my computer music, my protools and throws me in the vote. I love that moment where everything seethes in you ...
A song is being born. I am alone in my apartment, it was not planned.
Before my two comp, I look up. 11:45 p.m. already!
Damn, I thought that just work an hour ....
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