#nenette

[paguimo]

Prêt à conquérir le monde avec ton style urbain ? PaGuiMo te donne le pouvoir de t'exprimer à travers la mode. Explore nos nouvelles collections chaque jour et deviens le roi ou la reine des rues. #PaGuiMo #StreetwearFashion #Gabon

[balu8]

Darkwing Duck #13

by Ian Brill; James Silvani; Lisa Moore and Deron Bennett

Boom

[k-looking-glass-house]

Rook Hunt french list of endearment nicknames

As the french I am maybe that would interest some people about your dear "Le chasseur de l'amour" vocabulary!! I will not ....translate those nicknames (I mean you can still ask me of course) as there are not equivalent one sometimes!! I would say just feel and vibe if some catch your mind~ I tried to classify them by their meaning You don't have to be in a romantic relationship for using those one (blame the french behavior as we are said to be flirty around the world....)

(gn)= gender neutral

(m)= male

(f)= female

Obviously you don't have to follow any gender orientation, it's just that french vocabulary have different names for gender (beside the world itself being male or female..)! Some words are gender specified but can also be used as gender neutral on some occasions!!

Let's go:

ma biche (f)/ bichette (f)/ mon biquet (m)/ mon bichon(m)

[ma poule (f/gn)/ mon poulet (m)]/ poulette (f)/ mon poussin (gn)/ poussinou (gn)

mon chat (gn TW: don't use the female word for cat (chatte) as it turns out to be vulgar here, just to let you know)/ mon chaton (gn)/ mon minet (m)

doudouce (gn/f)/ doudou (gn/m)/ dididou (gn)/ ma douce (f/gn)/ [ma dulcinée (f)/ mon dulciné (m)]

mon amour (gn)/ mon coeur (gn)/ mon petit coeur de beurre (gn)/ mamour gn)/ ma moitié (gn)

mon canard (gn/m)/ mon canari (gn)/ ma caille (gn/f)/ mon caneton (gn)

mon lapin (gn)/ lapinou (gn)/ 'pinou (gn)

chouchou (gn)/ mon chou (gn/m)/ choupette (f/gn)/ choupinette (f)

ma puce (gn/f)/ pupuce (f/gn)

mon sucre d'orge (gn), mon biscuit (gn), ma tagada (gn), mon nounours (gn)/ mon bonbon (gn)/ ma craquotte (gn)/ ma sucrette (f/gn)/ mon macaron (gn)

mon bijou (gn/f)/ ma perle (gn/f)/ mon trésor (gn)/ mon rayon de soleil (gn)/ lumière de ma vie (gn)

ma vie (gn..... this one...omg this one is used by the youngster here.... it makes them feel so deep....so adult ha ha)

[mon joli (m)/ ma jolie (f)]/ ma beauté (f/gn)

mon bouchon (gn)/ mon roudoudou (gn/m)/ mon bisounours (gn)

loulou (gn/m)

[mon chéri (m)/ ma chérie (f)]

ma muse (f/gn)/ [ma princesse (f)/ mon prince (m)]/ [mon bien-aimé (m)/ ma bien-aimée (f)]

ma colombe (f/n)/ ma tourterelle (f/gn)/ ma gazelle (f)

ma pomme d'amour (gn) SPECIAL POMEFIORE ONE for this one ha ha or reinette (f)

bébé (gn)/ bibou (gn)/ mon ange (gn)

[ma brune (f)/ mon brun (m)]/ beauté fatale (gn/f)/ nenette (f)

poupoune (f)/ poupo(u)nette (f)

chipie (f)/ ma loute (f/gn)/ [pitchou (m/gn)/ pichounette (f)]

pépette (f)/ poupette (f)/ pipou (m)

bout de chou (-> bout d'chou) (gn)/ mon trogon d'amour (m/gn)

mon étoile (gn)/ ma grenouille (gn)/ mon soleil (gn)/ ma crevette (gn: Literally shrimp)/ mon arc-en-ciel (gn)

And so many more... just ask me if you want some explanation on some! Or even more ha ha

Also for more cuteness and love you can add before:

mon petit (for male vocabulary french word not gender (yes...it's weird or hard for non french speaker))

ma petite (for female vocabulary word not gender)

Or ptit or 'tit (the cutest way to show your love and friendship with someone or when you're speaking to children)

exemple:

Mon 'tit chat

Petit bout de chou

Ma petite chipie -> verryyyy similar somehow to little trickster...well close enough for female gender oriented! It would be "fripon" for male gender oriented.

And you? In your native language?

I actually love to use "darling" with people I love around me!!

[anastasiaskarsgard]

I have an idea for a marquis ineshot.

so the reader and the marquis (don’t know each other) are at a masquerade ball. In the middle of the ball, the reader walks in and catches the marquis torturing or killing someone (minor inconvenience to major offense). The reader gasps, the marquis sees them and the reader runs. He eventually catches up to the reader and instead of killing then, he goes “I think I’ll keep you”

WARNING: NSFW sex, cursing, violence, criminal activity, p in v, coercion, possessive behavior etc.

Where are you taking me?” You pleaded. You looked around frantically, trying to figure out where you were.

The man that had you sling over his shoulder just ignored you and carried on what seemed like an endless concrete hallway. Everything was just gray, with an occasional light fixture.

Looking down his broad back, to you handcuffed hands, you knew these were the real deal, and would only get tighter if you struggled. They were already hurting your wrists:

Maybe if you just behaved and were quiet, he’d trust you and you could get away when he let his guard down. If you were being honest, you never thought you’d get away from the Marquis alive.

Ever since that night, he had kept you as if you were a possession, and not a living breathing human being.

At first you’d fought him, and tried to escape. Spitting on him had been a huge mistake, and you’d woken up on the floor by yourself, wondering if it’d all been a bad dream. Then you’d pushed yourself up, and placed your hand on the small puddle of blood that, as you felt your face, must have come out of your nose. You’d never been hit in your life.

The day after “the incident”

Sitting up, and looking around, you looked to see if any doors were open. getting to your feet, you made your way over to the window to see how far from the ground you were.

Seeing you were only on the third floor of this mansion, you figured you could most likely crawl down the heavily ornate stone accents of the home. Your heart soared when the window opened up easily, until the clearing of a throat, made it crash back down to the ground.

Gathering your bearings, you turned around to find the Marquis sitting in a chair not far from you, in the corner. You wondered if he had been there all along, and wanted to kick yourself for not even seeing him.

“Do you need some fresh air, ma nenette?” He asked you with an arrogant sneer on his face. Leaning forward and slowly standing, he slowly approached you, offering his hand.

You just looked between his hand and his eyes, trying to think what you could do. He was so imposing, and the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Under different circumstances, any attention from this man may have likely been welcomed. But he wasn’t a man at all, he was a monster and you had seen just how vicious and cruel he could be.

Growing impatient, he snatched your hand and pulled you close to him. “Why must you fight me? You fucking American women are all the same.” He gritted in your ear, as he buried his face in your hair and took a big sniff.

Not wanting to get hit in the face again, you stood as stiff and rigid as possible, just waiting for this interaction to end.

Pulling back so he could look at your face, he placed his hands on your cheeks and forced you to make eye contact. “I appreciate beautiful things such as art, well tailored suits, amazing architecture. All these are things I can own and control. I never have appreciated a woman, like I did when I saw your face the first time, or how I do now as I look at you. Logically I should have killed you. You are a liability. You have the potential to hurt me.” He released your face and turned away from you.

After a moment, he spoke again. “I don’t want to destroy such beauty. You will never want for anything. You will have the best of everything, and I will protect you, as long as you are mine.”

You felt panic rising up, and before you could think how it would affect him, you blurted out that you don’t want to belong to anyone.

Turning on his heel, he flashed a condescending smirk your way, “as soon as you burst through that door, and interrupted that little incident, you became mine. I am the only reason, you’re alive. If you left my protection, you’d be dead before morning. I wasn’t the only one in that room that sees you as a liability.”

He’d stormed out of the room then, leaving you unsure what to do. You sat down on the plush bed and figured that maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. You didn’t have any kids waiting on you, and no boyfriend to speak of. You drifted off to sleep, and woke the next day, to a whole new closet full of clothing you’d only seen in magazines. Chanel, Dior, Louis Vuitton and brands you’d never even known about.

Two women had come in to do your hair and make up and help you choose the right clothing. You’d tried to talk to them, but beyond getting you ready, they were unresponsive. You soon realized that you’d find no sort of solidarity or friendship in them.

The next month had been a whirlwind of private jets all over the world, fashion shows, galas and being treated like a literal princess. You tried to remind yourself that he was a monster, but then he’d give you a bejeweled necklace that reminded him of your eyes or take you to see whales because you’d always wanted to see them.

At first you’d been uncomfortable with traveling with his full entourage and small army of bodyguards, but since none would speak to you beyond professional politeness, they soon became part of the background. Like a sofa, or artwork.

The Marquis was the only one that spoke to you, or seemed to care about your thoughts or needs. He hadn’t been kidding, when he said you could have whatever you wanted. It became a game, to think up ridiculous things, and see if he could provide them.

That brought you to earlier today…

“It’s my mothers birthday, may I call her please? She’s probably worried sick about me.” You’d asked hopefully. Even though you were with him against your will, you felt like maybe you didn’t really mind him so much. He had only hit you because you spit in his face, and he’d never done anything more than kiss you. If you were being honest, you kind of wanted him to do more.

He looked up from his paperwork and contemplated you, before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “How do I know you won’t tell her to come rescue you. You’ve been being such a good girl for me, I cannot let you ruin that.”

Was he actually insecure? He always seemed so sure of himself. Your mind raced for something to say, when the most obvious strategy occurred to you. He was a man after all.

“Can I talk to you alone for a minute.” You asked, looking pointedly at the bodyguards around the room. “I need to show you something private.”

His eyebrows rose, and he scanned your body up and down. Waving his hand, they all exited, and you suddenly weren’t so sure you were brave enough to do this.

You weren’t a virgin, but you also never used your assets to get your way. You could feel your insecurities clawing to the surface, but you quickly mentally crushed them. He was obsessed with you, and liked what he saw. Not the other way around.

You gave him a knowing smile, standing up straight and facing him, taking a few steps towards him, finding yourself behind his desk. Grabbing his office chair, you spun it around, so you had his full attention, and room to move freely.

You took a few steps back and brought your hair over your shoulder, idly swaying your hips in a figure eight to the imaginary beat, rubbing your hands down your body.

The Marquis was fully invested in what you were doing, and bit his plump bottom lip, when you grabbed your breasts and pushed them together. He almost looked adorable, except he was too gorgeous to ever be called anything but beautiful.

“Do you like what you see?” You asked as you bit your lip, looking at him mischievously out from under your thick lashes, “do you want to see more skin, Vinnie?” You turned around before he could see your smile. He hated it when you called him Vinnie, but you were nearly positive it secretly amused him. pulling your blouse up and over your head, you tossed it to the side, before spreading your legs a bit, and bending over. Reaching between your legs, you lightly skimmed your sex over your lacy underwear, that were peeking from beneath your short skirt. You slowly stood up straight again, continuing to sway as you casually pulled your bra off, before tossing it over your shoulder into his lap.

Covering your breast with one arm, you spun around and made your way in front of him, you let your arm fall to your side, as you climbed into his lap, straddling him.

The smile on his face wasn’t as arrogant as usual, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang in your heart at the thought of what could of made this beautiful man into a monster. Swiftly pushing those thoughts from your mind, you instead focused on the rock hard member straining against his pants. You were surprised he hadn’t touched you yet, and wondered why the same man that essentially imprisoned you to stay by his side, was so respectful.

Out of curiosity, you took his large hands from where they lay on the armrests, and slid them up onto your stomach, then up your ribs, finally letting them go just at the bottom of your breasts. The Marquis let out a sensual moan, before firmly cupping each breast in each hand, as he undulated his hips up against your core. Sucking air through his teeth, he looked you in the eyes, as he firmly grabbed you by the hips, to create more friction. His eyes didn’t leave yours as you watched them darken with lust, and you wondered if he was going to be upset that your pussy was positively soaking his pants.

He reached up and grabbed your face, but released it just as fast, knitting his brows together. “Do you want me as much as I want you? I don’t think it is possible.” Nodding your head yes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his desire, you leaned down to take his lips in a furious kiss. Lips brushed lips, teeth hit teeth, tongues met and separated in a rush of pure raw need. A groan ripped from his throat as you wordlessly grabbed a fistful of his thick chestnut hair and pushed his head hard against your lips, before sucking his bottom lip between your teeth. He stood suddenly, nearly losing his footing, in his haste to lay you down on one of his large white leather sofas.

Dropping to his knees, he quickly pulled your panties down your legs, before tossing them haphazardly to the side. Lifting your legs over his shoulders, before setting to work like a starved man, that only survival lay in your core. . A shudder rolled through your body and you bucked your hips against his face as his tongue circled, entered, and whispered sweet prayers against your sex. The sounds he made as he devoured you were the most erotic sounds you ever heard, and you quickly were approaching an orgasm faster than you ever had before.

“Vinnie.” You moaned as your breath hitched in your throat. “I’m going to fucking cum! As soon as I do, I need you to take that big cock out of your pants and fuck me like it’s the last time you’ll ever see me again.”

He growled into your sex, as he used his fingers to penetrate you as he sucked on your clit. Your orgasm slammed into you so hard, it took your breath away. His name fell from your lips over and over like a prayer as he lapped up all you had to offer him. He left your sex, only a moment as he crawled up on top of you, his erection already free and weeping precum. “I want to cum inside of you. I have never done this, but I wish to fuck a baby into you.” He rubbed the mushroom tip of his cock up and down your slick folds, teasing you.

So turned on you could hardly think straight, you nodded eagerly, to his obviously pleased expression. Slowly pushing his thick length inside of you, you loved the way he stretched you to almost the point of pain, but not quite.

Once he was inside you, the rest became a blur of hands, mouths, and skin. Your breasts pressed flat against his chest, as your arms encircled him, pulling at him – his hair, his lower back, his arms. You desperately pressed up against him as if you wanted him to fuse your bodies completely. Even if it was physically impossible, she knew he was hers in every other sense of the word. Each time he thrust his hips upward, leaning his forehead against your ankle as your feet crossed behind his head, his hands under your bottom as he lifted you up to take all of him as best you could, he body began to tense, as he attempted to maintain control.

When you felt another orgasm fast approaching, you grabbed him and forced his forehead to yours, “cum with me. Cum inside me.” As you came again, it was with a scream into his kiss. His hips pressed firmly into you, as he joined you in mindblowing ecstasy, spilling himself completely inside you, his whole body shivering from foot to fingertip, before holding himself above you, but not separating your bodies where they remained joined. Smiling bashfully, and reaching a hand up to brush a few strands of hair from his forehead you wished you’d found each other in different circumstances.

As if reading your mind, he looked into your eyes, and said, “you are mine. I’ll never let you go now.” Pulling out of you, and tucking himself back into his pants, he walked over to his private restroom, and brought you a towel.

Staring up at him, you didn’t move to take it from him, as the possible consequences of your actions punched you in the gut, like a wave slamming you beneath the surface.

Just as you were about to take it from him, the alarms sounded. Popping up to a seated position, you frantically looked around for your clothes.

“Get dressed and do not leave this room.” The Marquis stated as he made his way to the door. Pausing as his hand met the handle, he repeated, “do not leave this room.” Before exiting and closing the door behind him.

Running around the room like a crazy person, you found all your clothes and dressed yourself in record time. The alarm was still blaring, and after several minutes, you were relieved when the office door swung open.

That’s until you saw it was not the Marquis or one of his men. You could hear gunfire in another wing of the mansion, and started to panic, until you realized this might be your way out of here.

Peeking up, you smiled nervously at the man, stopping him in his tracks. He looked you up and down, before coming forward again and grabbing you by the arm.

“Let’s go princess. Don’t make me have to hurt ya.” He bit out harshly.

“Oh I’d never. I’m so happy your here. My hero.” You attempted to sound confident.

Glancing over at you, he chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re not gonna say that when we get to where we’re going.”

Not liking how that sounded at all, you wrenched your arm free, and ran to the door. Just as you made it nearly through, a sharp pain ripped through your body, as all went black and you fell in a heap on the floor.

[terrainofheartfelt]

liz, I'd like some adorable dair hcs, please and thank you 💛

it would be my pleasure, my dear 💛💛💛

dan proposes with an empty box, because he knows that blair is a control freak and wearing jewelry forever that she didn't pick herself freaks her out. people who don't know them very well will side-eye the story but anyone who actually knows these two weirdos thinks it's really sweet

they spend every Sunday morning having coffee and croissants in bed and doing the Sunday crossword together. or, they try to beat each other to answering each clue

slightly related, they are banned from van der humphrey scrabble games, because they get too competitive and too horny to play with others

in a comedy of errors, Nate finds out Blair's pregnant before Dan does (he's out of town on a book tour, Blair finds out while he away and is wigging) and then Nate has to pretend that Everything Is Cool even though he's a literal human golden retriever and is just so happy for them. he keeps it a secret though. when they tell the rest of the gang he's like "FIRST! I knew first! I knew the entire time!"

in any universe I hold in my head, they live in Paris for at least one year, possibly more.

once in an interview, Dan discloses that Rosemary's Baby is his and his wife's "Valentine's Movie" and the internet is like "????????"

in his late 20s, Dan starts getting ocular migraines while trying to read and write and brushes them off, so Blair is the one who kicks his ass all the way to the optometrist. He's fine, he just needs glasses. (blair thinks they're really, really hot)

on their first anniverasry (paper) they each give the other their preserved Nenette ticket stub, because they tried to throw it away, but just couldn't. saps. Blair frames hers and Dan hangs it in his home office. Dan puts his in a custom shadow box that sits on Blair's desk at work.

Once, in a dedication or social media caption, Dan calls her “The Ingrid to my Humphrey, the Waldorf to my Statler, the Harry to my Sally.” the biggest issue she takes with that is "I am Meg Ryan. Always."

speaking of social media, every time Dan and Blair post photos of themselves or sappy things of each other, Jenny leaves the same comment: gross.

(obviously at this point they're all cool with each other but Jenny is a little sister and also loves a bit)

sometimes Blair will like and/or quote tweet thirst tweets about Dan because she loves to cause problems.

Red wine makes Blair Bonkers Horny and far enough along into their relationship Dan learns to just roll with it and prepare himself mentally.

I discussed this at length before in dms with nads @mysteriesofloves which is that Blair has a system of pet names for Dan. *keira knightley as elizabeth bennet darcy voice* kitten for every day, my love for Sundays, and bunny, but only on very special occasions

and finally, to bring it back to the wedding rings, both are engraved. Blair chooses for Dan's band: bread, light, & shadow (based off of Neruda) and Dan chooses for Blair's: still days & hurricanes (based of von Radics)

[coachdevie]

La testostérone et la séduction

De nombreuses études ont prouvées que les femmes sont attirés par la testostérone que génère les hommes. Il s’agit d’une hormone que nous les hommes fabriquons de manière naturelle. Néanmoins il arrive que certains hommes génèrent moins de testostérones en raison de maladie ou alors parce qu’ils ne sont pas assez virils/n’ont pas un bon régime alimentaire. Ils éprouvent alors des difficultés à séduire une femme et entrent dans une phase dépressive.

Maintenant que le constat est fait, comment faire pour lutter contre le manque de testostérone ??

Une solution simple : faire du sport, en particulier de la muscu (évitez les « sports » type yoga/danse, privilégiez les sports de combat et muscu) cela génère beaucoup de testostérone, vous le verez d’une part parce que votre pilosité faciale (barbe) poussera plus rapidement.

Aussi les femmes seront rapidement beaucoup plus excités par vous.

Un exemple simple, quand je rentre de la salle (le temple) je me fais souvent aborder par des nenettes car je transpire la testostérone et ça les rend folles. Ça les rassure aussi car cela prouve que je ne suis pas un loser qui se laisse aller mais un homme un vrai qui saura les protéger.

Besoin d’un programme sportif ? Remise en forme ? Séduction ? N’hésitez pas à me contacter.

[luzpalida]

"[...] She chose the prettiest flowers for her bouquet. Once Sister heard her say to herself softly, 'I wish I could work always for the good Jesus, always, always! I love Him so much!' Her bouquet was lovely.

'Will you place it very close to Him?' asked Nenette, as she gave it to Sister.

'Yes, my dear,' replied Sister Johanna, as she showed her the place. 'Here, very close, so that it will almost touch Him.'"

[jojobegood1]

Nenette, le orang-outan qui peint - 100 jours avec les animaux du Zoo de...

🇨🇵🌼⚘️🌻

[king-of-the-road]

Nenette et Boni (1996) Dir. Claire Denis, Cinematography by Agnes Godard

[mysteriesofloves]

ok i watched gossip girl when i was younger and don’t think i ever got to s4 at all? but recently i’ve gone on a dair journey by first watching all their scenes on youtube and now going through and watching good gossip girl eps + dair eps and also reading fic and i wanted to say firstly that your fic is some of the best i’ve come across!!! secondly just wanted to say i’m so sad we never get to see a lot of really good dair moments. like we never got to see them go watch nenette or go see other movies we just see the aftermath…in 4x13 when they get out of plans with other people so they can go get coffee together we never see them plan that out or how they got to that point…just wish there was a whole season of dan and blair seeing movies and having breakfast together in their early friendship u know because that’s one of my favourite parts about their relationship, that they had such a steady foundation and really loved spending time with each other. i’m in my feelings about them forever.

THANK YOU 🫶 and welcome !!! isn’t it miserable but sexy here !!! i 100% agree there are so many little missing moments… i think the planning of the coffee date came about like the texts in 417 just one of them the night before (blair cough cough) texting the other about getting coffee the next morning.

but also i think this shines so much in fic i love how many fic writers love writing the little moments with these two <3 and you see it in moodboards and gifsets too we all love the breakfasts and the phone calls and the coffee dates all the mundane things that feel so magical. they gave us crumbs but we’ve made a meal !!

[paguimo]

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[bigmanwiththejam]

If Beeber and Nenette don't become recurring side characters, then what's the point?

[lapoema]

Las joyas de Indra son esas huevas

De caracol en las raíces del loto

El rancho de Atahualpa y Nenette

Lleno de luciérnagas cuando no estaban en casa

La conciencia metålika metalïrika de tu Sapi

Recordando a innumerables poemanautas

Que cada pensamiento es un hålito

De la gran y erråtika mariposa melódica del agua temporal

Somos vahos, moscas imantadas, mieles vacías.

Al menos cada versos es Polen, tus ojos abejas que danzan con la mente refrescada en la menta lunar,

Mira mis dedos, dejaron este rastro de gramas en tu instante fugitivo, una sal almibarada...

[ratherhavetheblues]

CLAIRE DENIS: Nenette and Boni “I can feel it moving”

by James Clark  2023

Falling apart has had its fortune. In the course of tending to complete the film, Nenette and Boni, I expected (as with the double parts in the proceedings in, Both Sides of the Blade) a happy result. The strictness of the Henri  Mouron dealing put an end to that hope (“all rights reserved”). All I can say is that the graphic artist, A.M.Cassandre, was a giant, his advertising work, touching those who could engage the lithographic magic. That he ended his life by suicide, must not be a way of demeaning the effort.

We start with the city of Marseille. Many years ago, we would visit Marseille as vintage poster dealers, embracing the city’s rich lithographic treasures. Not only that, we became friends with one of the brokers. His home was one of the small islands nearby. We spent several happy days there. (During the War, the Nazis used it, in various ways. Long before that, there was a nefarious prison.) Our story today, Nenette and Boni (1997), focuses upon poisonous instincts. One could place the planet in this way: a very large group; and a very small group which finds something very different.

Along that way, we find a young man, Boni, of Marseille, sketching out a big problem, which could lead him to the few. In much of the saga, the only positives are that he doesn’t kill anyone. His wrath involves lucidity.

However, a crucial matter has to be in place. Planet Earth is rapidly dying. It is a sign of a form of insanity, that this matter is not focused. In a hundred years there will be no birds. Birds with more depth than humans. Birds having engaged and held their fortune, while humans overrate. Does that mean that transaction is over? Not at all. One’s reach of understanding, clearly overtakes the dimness of this rabid disaster called Earth. Other places would be of higher quality.

Our protagonist ignores such burdens, in order to attempt feeling that he’s on the right track. Boni’s idea of progress, and he’s got something there, is to ignore the past. He moves around, of course, but he doesn’t trust anyone. He moves around, however, largely because his father had given him a pizza business; and with that, also, took over his dead mother’s house. On the basis of those windfalls, Boni takes his time to grow up. (He does very little to maintain his “business,” and plays around with “collectible” cards.) It gets worse; it gets better. “I do solemnly swear to fuck her brains out… to love everything minute before draping her. I’ve milked this stupid joke for all its worth. I swear on my mother’s grave that no one or nothing will stop me. If even I don’t keep this oath, may I be branded a coward like my asshole father who left us…and may burn in hell eternally…”

Then he’s finicky about two stray cats in his yard. However, another matter, far from cavelier, materializes, namely, his long lost cousin, Nenette. This is the point we must disclose that very recently Nenette had been close to committing suicide in the sea. What are you waiting for, Nenette? That’s a good question? Something makes her get out of that danger. “Get out, on the double!” (But isn’t it the triple?) Denis being a master of the third, the dialectic.

Boni, the fat cat, does not rise to the matter of Nenette’s danger. She’s pretty much beyond effective interaction. (Her side of the family lacks the money to burn.) Boni’s old neighbor putting up the laundry. Boni smiles, “Is  the wind that’s got you so jittery?” Boni’s all over the place. And soon to be jittery. Inside he tells someone, “I’m gonna stick my dick up your crack.” Powerful, right! For all their differences, they’re in the same business. One could say that the bunny rocks! Boni says, “Good  morning. How are you? Can you feel my hot French stick?” Could he ever understand a thing? Ambiguity wandering around in women’s clothes. “I’ll eat her up.” Maybe. Nenette, looking over a cement wall. Twenty-four hours, and no recognition of Nenette. She sends over a flotilla of sweet buns. Boni’s now in a man’s clothes. All grey. On a drive, she’s left behind. Could they become vital? With a baker. “Don’t you ever sleep at night?”

The ways of Surrealism. “Why are you in my house?” Nenette: “There’s now food. I’m starving. It sucks here. You’re really pathetic. It’s my Mom’s house.”/ ” Lay off my rabbit. Go back to Sugar Daddy.”/ “Why are you screaming! I just wanted to talk, asshole!” (She did want to talk. She, in her scattered way, could [once in a while] recognize their possibilities.)/”Write me a letter. I do what I fucking want.” (With every word, they show their weakness.)

He tells her, “You’ve changed.”/”It’s normal.”/ “You got a little fat.”/ “No, I’ve grown…” (Her sense of being  better than she usually does). “Because I’m pregnant… It’s not a joke. It’s true… I don’t show. I have a small belly.” Or is it a small heart? These two would profess being daring. But where is the delivery? Where is the preparation?  “You screw up my day, and it’s not my business? You came here to hide out, didn’t you?” (Boni never delivers here, until the last few seconds of the film.) Here we see Boni, gobbling his meal out of a cheap take-out. Nothing but cheap?(But when the Beach Boys sang, there was a bit of magic. In the air… Can you touch it? A mirror. One of his hands. A way of truth, if you open, if you open your eyes and shut your ridiculous mouth.)Then there was boxing at the gym. Traction? Inert?

From here to the end, it’s Boni’s choice. The families are insignificant. Make your move. Nenette at the doctor’s: “If he’s sleazy, I’m leaving.” The black doctor was not only professional, but also passionate –a tone never true by the cousins. He tells her, “Breathe deeply.” (A big challenge.) “Knees in tight… There! Very good. I’d  say you’re at least five months pregnant.”/”But I’ve barely gotten fat?” /”That doesn’t mean a thing. It’s your build.” (Nenette counting on a quick abortion.) “An Ultrasound will tell us more.” The questionable patient declares, “Knock, Knock! What’s there!” Cut to Boni, in the waiting room, looking at a piece of the doctor’s walls. Many hands in the waiting room. The doctor discovers, “You lied to me. You’re not 18. It’s my job to be able to tell me how much.” The doctor is a gentleman. Nenette has pretty much become a thug. The next fabrication is one that the doctor should have understood. He asks, “Who’s the boy in the waiting room, your friend?” In a flash, she invents, “My husband, but he doesn’t want to be known. This is nothing of his business…” / The doctor asks Boni, “Would you mind stepping in here.”/ The loud-mouth says “This is none of his business.” (Stupid power while being hopeless.) The doctor tells her, “It is his business. He has to face up to his responsibility… “(Going off the rails. Close to a farce.) Boni asks, “Is this serious?”/ “It is but the doctor fails to understand how poisonous “my husband” is.” So the coverage is wrecked. The doctor gets back to his skills: “No, everything’s fine. Sit down.” (Cut to the doctor, writing. He has written something to the couple.) “Here! You want to have  any hospital bills to pay.” The (too) nice doctor tells Boni, “I need to know how pregnant you are, how changed you are. I’m counting on you for the ultrasound. (Moreover, the sweet doctor had come to understand that Nenette, if ever she were able, was beyond it now. An ugly disposition feeling beaten by something extremely demanding. Beaten from the casual love that needs extreme attention. It isn’t impossible. On other planets, surely, merely elevations could be more than that! Your wife is confused, but it’s only normal. Normal indeed! A satin touch… A well-planned childbirth can be wonderful.)

Boni tells her, “You cost me a lot… So now you’re not getting an abortion…” (That brings out a string of savagery.) She  tells him, “Nothing’s decided yet… Three fingers… a good number… She covers her face with her hair… Boni, in the dark… A  new girlfriend… His nude presence… Her belly… She stretches out… Boni  shoots at a figure with his rifle… Next time I’ll kill you… “Daddy understands” [hoping Nenette would open the locked door].In that melee, even coitus has a go.

The doctor. Fetal test. The white clouds  in the machine, in the dark, showing off the baby to come. “Very good. Everything looks fine. Look! You can see its profile. Do you want to know if it’s a boy or a girl?”/ “No.”/The nurse announces, “Anyway, he’s kicking up a storm.” (The storms of life are hidden in deep hiding places.)/ ” Let’s get something clear. If you are thinking of an abortion, it’s too late.”/ Her response; “I’ll have it somewhere, and kill it.”/Boni slaps her for saying that. “You’re like an animal. Worse than an animal!  I can feel it moving.”(She’s not pleased.)  Nenette. “It won’t come out. He hates me.”/ “We’ll find a foster family. We call this a “Jane Doe” birth. I have to make sure you understand one thing. Your decision is irreversible. Just remember, once you’ve decided, there’s no turning back. But, as I said, it will have a family…but no name.”

Another practitioner.”Is she next? I’ll be in the cafeteria. See you later.” Nenette begins, “It better not hurt.”/ “It’s too late, sweety. And don’t moralize me. You have an attitude problem.”/ “Fuck! Fuck! This fucking hurts!”/ “I know it hurts.Try pushing. You’re not pushing! You don’t want to… Push!… Again!… There you go”/….”I want this to end!”… The baby cries. Nenette cries. Baby in basket.

Now the end. Boni, to the hospital, sort of. He “drops the flowers… ” , sort of. Nenette gone.  Here’s a fantasy with power. On the balcony with his rifle, and then having picked up the baby… An eye. Two sets of hands. Boni caresses the baby. Face to face. He kisses the baby. “How are you doing, baby? Wake up…” A smile on his face. Wake up. (A good line.) The baby cries in Boni’s arms. Baby responds to Boni’s embraces. Baby asleep. Boni smiles. “Yeah, you pissed on me!”

One more time! Nenette’s hard eyes.There is a strange and melancholy connection between our two most recent essays. Marcel Proust, after a long, brilliant discovery in literature, came to see that it was not real, not strong enough. As if there had to be a great finish. Months in the hospital. Then, only, a flow of irony. A.M. Cassandre, face to face with imagery to heighten the skies. Unable to engage for a lifetime. Finding death best.

Cassandre at his best!

[lloydhansenanon]

From what I've heard from Nenette, you are definitely not a bottom, Mr. Hansen...

Thank you, cupcake. If only everyone else agreed.