If It’s The Last Time

[Inspired by Red Dead Redemption 2 – Warning: Spoiler]

As I watch some wild boars devastating the grass at the far end of the forest, I stay here, wondering if smallpox do the same kind of mayhem in my lungs than those wild animals makes in the forest. It probably looks like that in there, like a tornado just have passed.

Coughing blood after every intense activity, seeing myself, my body, weakened, this is probably the end, or at least, this is very close to it.

What’s left of me? A child that die after three hours of being born. And a wife, well, a «should have been wife» that do everything to forget me, friends that I will leave in need, a father figure going mad and a country that is changing way, way too much and way too fast.

Everyone keep telling me that I am a good man, that there is a side of me that is kind but it’s being overshadowed by the evil side, the one that keep thinking and hanging on a lifestyle that doesn’t belong in this new era we are entering in.

What a life, I had a good run. What happen to me is payback for all the ill I’ve done. There is a justice after all. At least, It’s look like it. This is at the very moment that death is around the corner that I finally realise that I have spent my time chasing ghost. And I have left a pile of dreadful things along the way.

What matter to me was nature, the Wild West, the anarchy and the poison of every god damn man in this world, money!

Damn! Money can’t buy me new lungs!

I wish I could have spent more time with that old Native American, riding next to him to the top of the mountain where is used to meditate and think.

Thinking! I have forgotten how to think! Like a raging bull, I’ve been going through life without planning what was waiting for me at the end. And the crash is my illness.

It’s all about love life isn’t it? What’s make us truly happy, for real? Have you noticed how falling in love was the most incredible and powerful things you could experience? It’s… rejuvenating! It’s something that bound us all, human beings. Everything seems pale next to being in love.

We don’t necessarily do great things when we are in love either, but at least, we do it for the most beautiful reason.

I had the chance to love and to be loved. That was a short period of my life, but the happiest one.

Years have gone by so fast! So fast! I always knew I will die young or, at least, not old. I was afraid to be old. And now, I wish I had this opportunity to grow old. Even alone, you don’t need someone to be happy, really.

If I could choose, I would have been a rancher. For once in my life, being stable. Here comes the time when the body can’t travel or being on the run, he can’t handle it anymore.

I would have had horses, cattle, a dog and a cat.

I would smoke a cigar on my porch, drinking whisky as I watch the sun set. Until I die.

But this kind of death isn’t for me, sadly.

The boars are now gone.

And I’m going on my last ride.

I’ll miss nature.

Maybe the other side, if there is one, is ready to welcome me. I hope so at least. I hope whatever decide our faith over here will see the good side of me, if there is one.

Can’t even take one good last breath, I guess I’m punished now to rest peacefully later.

I hope. Some people say faith is more important than anything. If think not. Love is.

Hope keep us going and love give us a purpose and a meaning.




Ode To A Redemption (A Poem)

FYI: I am not fluent in English, I’m trying to be at least. Sorry for the potentials mistakes. Feel free to correct me in the comment section.

This poem was inspired by Red Dead Redemption 2

Once there was a time
we would have kill for a dime.

No past,
forget the West,
here in the East,
feel like an undesirable guest.
No laugh, just pain,
and death.

Dreams of majestic beast in the wild,
a free roaming stag.
Everybody here is out of their minds.

Get on horses, run free,
no responsibilities,
no duties.
Just you and me.

It feels like the past,
come at me too fast.

How did we end up here ?
Starting to regret a lifestyle that I’d used to love.
Opened my eyes, should have been with you.
Give each other another shot,
I don’t have much left,
how could I dare,
express myself,
after so many lives destroyed,
by my own hands.

I am ashamed,
and scared.
But I’m waiting for no heaven
‘cause on Earth, I acted like a demon.
I am ready, to join the devil.

This is too easy,
to say sorry,
to ask for forgiveness.

They’re some things you simply can not change,
no going back,
nor going further,
until the end.

I’m roting from the inside,
the mad men I am,
show itself in the outside.

I will not lie,
I had good times,
the ones with you.

You’ll see me next,
six feet under the dirt,
if I have the chance,
to end it all,
with some honor.

As I try to make peace with my God,
I know, coming from me,
this is odd,
Thousand of questions,
starting all with why.
I’ll never have the answer,
I just have to tell you my goodbyes.

Your on my mind,
you were more precious,
than every gold I’ve stolen.
I guess this is the moment,
when we’re about to leave this life,
that everything seem so simple.

Maybe I should forgive everyone,
to disappear,
but know that for you,
I would have gone
a hundred thousand miles,
just to see your eyes.

Maybe one more last kiss,
you’re all I’ve ever missed,
a relationship
gone in the mist.

What a savage I was,
running and ruining
the poisoned gift of a life. Living a lie.

Nothing makes sens,
civilisation is putting fences,
around a property,
working days and night,

That wasn’t the kind of life I’ve ever wanted,
nor a life that I’ve lived.

On the run, constantly,
friends murdered,
the worries.
It took its toll,
on my mind,
on my soul.

I hope that for you, the future hold,
a respectable life,
happiness, that you don’t necessarily
find in dollar bills.

I’ve been hunting for it,
never had enough.
Was I addicted to violence ?
You didn’t deserve that life,
no future,
a constant blur.

You’ll live the rest of your existence,
knowing I was yours once.

I hope that you’ll live fully,
knowing that all along,
you were in my heart.

I was lucky,
to ride along with you,
even if it was on a rocky road.
Your love was priceless to me,
I was too proud,
to express it,
in front of you face.

I regret too much thing,
but now it’s times,
to go away,
to write down my last will, pay back no depts nor bills
and to spread my wings.


A Rider On The Storm (A Short Story)

FYI: I am not fluent in English, I’m trying to be at least. Sorry for the potentials mistakes. Feel free to correct me in the comment section.

As the wind blows threw my hair (yes, I’ve lost my hat in the firefight. Better this than my head !), I’m pushing Ernesto at full speed.

Brave horse, brave boy. Never scared of a gun shot nor roaming at full pace trough the dark night filled by a storm. Thunder, heavy rain and that brutal winds that push colds rain drops on my skins like thousand of needles prickling me.

It maybe sounds awful for you to imagine yourself in that situation but my friend, a storm is a dream gateway setting for running away from a bank heist.

The law can follow me, it’s impossible to see at 25 yards around. Can you really see what’s the thief even looks like in those conditions ? I can tell you, it’s like trying to find a shadow in the darkness. It’s dangerous for me to, but I trust myself and my horse, we make a great team, we complete each other.

The only things left to do for them ? Waiting !
Waiting ! The worse beginning for a law man trying to catch a thief.

I’m rich, yeah, of course from the money I’ve stoled, but I also have the luxury of time !

Every minute is a wasted one for the sheriff and his boys. I’m gaining more and more ground, they’re losing more and more opportunity to ever found me !

I bet ya’ that I could go back there one of these days, minding my own business, sip a whisky at the saloon and speaking with the local and they’ll never recognize my ass !

But I won’t do that, let’s not tempt the devil. He has been good to me so far, or maybe it was God.

Will God allow His sheep to be robbed of their money won honestly, through the hardship of a precarious life dedicated to provide for their families ? I don’t know. I’ve seen many poor bastards begging for His help before dying. He never got to help them with one of those miracles we hear He can do from those preachers everywhere.

Maybe God is on my side, after all ! He let me rob a bank to show His followers that money took too much place in their life, in their heart. And I’m just His pawn.

I’m not complaining about it ! Thanks God ! Help me whenever You want from now on ! I will gladly serve You if Your plans for me is: to rob more greedy cunts without any single regret. I won’t go to church thought. I have my limits too !

Heck, I can’t imagine everyone discovering that God will be on their side if they choose to rob from the rich and powerful.

Those rich cunts, never rich enough ! They seem to always want more ! Watch ‘em go to church to clear their guilty souls from the sins they commit on a daily basis.

Does God let us create gunpowder to watch us destroy one another, to judge the brave, the coward, the sinner, the poor and the (filthy) rich? To see where what kind of extremes we can go for one of our antic? Or maybe the devil gave us those tools of destruction. Like Prometheus who stole fire from the Gods to give it to the poor bastards that we were without it.

Of course, if you look at it closely, all religions kinda look the same.

But what am I boring you with?

Let’s conclude with those words : This is America, land of the free. This is God’s country, and I’m nobody to judge Him.

Now that I’m far away with that money, watch me wasting it on booze, alcool and gambling.

God, the hunt for money is not over for me, may I serve You well by stealing. I’ll dedicate from now on every stolen dime and dollars to You !

And for you dear friend don’t step on my toes, bank robbing is my thing, found your own way for your redemption !

God Bless America !


A Pinkerton’s Warnings (A short story)

FYI: I am not fluent in English, I’m trying to be at least. Sorry for the potentials mistakes. Feel free to correct me in the comment section.

As I lay in this dens bush, the outlaws are drinking, singing indecent lullaby and exposing their latest successful crime like grandiloquent theatric actor with each other. Of course, those horrid story are embellished, coming out off their mouths.

I follow those bandits for two weeks now. They move often, from state to state, making their couple of weeks of stays a time of nightmares for the locals.

Robbing the poor and the rich folks that roam their lands, killing for a few dimes, stealing diligence, bar fights, rapes, you name it.

The reign of terror of those outlaws is coming to an end. The world has changed gentleman !

The United State is starting to hold up to its name and promises. We are uniting. It took time a good amount of death and misery to reach this ideal.

We, Pinkerton, are a federal agency charged to take down criminals who still haven’t understood that this is the end of impunity for those outlaws.

We have the means, we have the mens and the laws and even the President by our side.

The criminals only got their ideal. Wich belong to an ancient and savage era.

Modernity’s on it’s way. No more gunslingers, no more duels in the middle of the street, no more gangs.

Why did I follow those men for two weeks without interfering with their misdemeanor ?

Gathering proof. We want them to hang on nooses. They have to leave this world that don’t want them and, frankly, never needed them either.

As I am watching them laugh and throwing up their cheap moonlights, I just imagine myself putting a rope around their neck.

Sure, maybe a couple a them have some sort of code of conduct but the simple fact that they are riding together prove that they do not belong here either.

Show me your friends and I’ll tell you who you really are.

Those criminals talks about moral but they all are ready to sell their mother for a lighter sentence. The hanging noose, a simple rope frighten those bastards who can kill you for just looking at them the wrong way.

The curious things about those animals it’s that they know we are on to them. They even met us, exchanged fierce firefight with us, but they still think that somehow, we will let them do their crime. They bury their heads in the sand, but they will finish 6 feets under the ground. Well, if someone feels like digging holes for them. I don’t think anybody will go through this hardship for a single one of those maggots.

See, we are on to them. We know, we see, we gather proof, testimony. Their downfall is near. Society is ready… no even better, willing to get rid of them.

I deplore the amount of time we are offering them. They are, in some way, lucky that I am not in charge of their eradication. With me, no trials, just a bullet between the eyes. Quick, simple, effective. That would be the perfect way to end this non-sens.

But I will obey and keep a close watch on those fuckers. Discipline and obedience is key to a civilized society. And I will make sure to look at every single one of their cadavers, spit on them and carry on serving the law, the justice for the emerging and perfect civilisation. For the futur.

The time has come !

Signed : a Pinkerton agent


Mauvaise réputation, La véritable histoire d’Emmet Dalton Tome 1 par Ozanam & Bazin

Quatrième de couverture :

– Pourquoi raconter la vie des Dalton ? Vous devriez prendre des héros.

– Oui, mais le public préféra voir un film de bandits dont ils ont entendu le nom.

– Putain de célébrité.

Tagada tagada voilà les Daltons !

Oui j’ai osé la chanson de Joe Dassin !

Allons, nous avons tous dans notre inconscient collectif, en France du moins, les personnages de bandits que sont les Daltons dans la célèbre BD Lucky Luck. Mais saviez-vous qu’ils avaient vraiment existé ?! Moi non.

Hey bien, cette BD est surprenante. J’ai appris, selon le point de vue d’Emmet Dalton, l’histoire du gang des frères Dalton. Rien à voir évidement avec ceux du Lonesome Cowboy Lucky Luck… Quoique…

Je ne saurais dire si cette version est vraie ou non, il serait intéressant de voir quel documents et sources ont été utilisé pour écrire cet ouvrage. Je sais qu’Emmet Dalton a écris un livre sur la vraie histoire des frères hors-la-loi, je me le suis d’ailleurs procuré, mais je ne l’ai pas encore lu.

En tous cas, les bandits et justiciers du Farwest nous fascinent n’est-ce pas ? Si oui, vous serez servis avec cet album.

Les dessins sont épurés, simples mais efficaces. Les décors sont parfois laissés un peu de côté au profit des personnages et de l’action mais ce n’est point dérangeant.

L’utilisation de la couleur est plutôt atypique, de mon point de vue, car les planches ont l’air d’avoir été recouverts d’un filtre vert. Pourquoi ? Aucune idée pour ma part. C’est curieux, original, atypique et mystérieux.

Peut-être aurais-je des réponses dans le tome 2, car cette histoire est en deux tomes. Comme souvent, je trouve les BD trop courtes mais c’est un art… et un business.

Je conseil cet ouvrage si vous aimez les westerns et les légendes du far west et si vous aussi, vous avez envie de connaître la vraie histoire derrières la légende des Daltons. Par contre, pas de Lucky Luck dans les parages ! Même pas son ombre !

Les Dalton et leurs crimes semblent refléter l’époque difficile qu’était l’Ouest Américain à cette période. Par eux, les artistes de cet album nous donnent la possibilité de voir ce qu’était l’Amérique à l’époque où la modernité s’imposait dans une partie du pays encore sauvage et parfois inexploré, ne se laissant pas facilement amadouer par le « progrès ».


Tyler Cross par Nury & Brüno

Quatrième de couverture :

Tyler Cross transporte 17 kilos de came, d’une valeur d’un demi-million à la revente au détail.

Et il a exactement 21 dollars et 80 cents en poche.

Il note l’ironie de la chose et se met en marche.

Mais que se passe-t-il Jaskiers ? Est-ce que le blog est devenu un blog spécial BD ?!

Hey bien disons que je me suis procuré une bonne poignée de bandes dessinées car l’envie m’a pris de renouer un peu avec cet art qui a bercé mon enfance (merci Astérix et Obelix ! Sempé et Goscinny !).

Cette fois-ci, j’ai donc choisis une histoire de gangster, pour changer un peu…

L’histoire semble se passer dans les années post prohibition au Sud-Ouest des États-Unis. Une histoire de deal de drogue qui tourne au vinaigre et dont le personnage principal, Tyler personnage énigmatique, essaiera de prendre la tangente avec 17 kilos de cocaine mexicaine. Mais bien sûr, c’est loin d’être un partie de plaisir pour Tyler.

Le dessin des visages est original, ça change et ça ne gêne pas la lecture. Les décors et l’encrage sont bons.

Les dialogues sont crédibles, certains passages se veulent stéréotypés, voir caricaturaux, mais cela ne pèse pas sur la lecture et l’on sent que les artistes l’assument pleinement, en fait, ça ajoute un certain côté comique. Ces passages sont, je pense, revendiqués et assumés et… ça passe !

Bien sûr, encore une BD ou ça castagne et tire de partout. Voir même un peu d’amour ! C’est ce que l’on veut dans une histoire de gangster non ? A noter que c’est un BD pour adulte, ou plutôt un public averti.

Le scénario est bien ficelé, certaines scènes sont très violentes, l’ouvrage ne plaisante pas du tous.

J’ai beaucoup aimé et je conseil !

Pour ceux qui ont le cœur bien accroché !


Pulp par Ed Brubaker & Sean Phillips

Quatrième de couverture :

Que decide-tu de faire de ta vie quand tu t’attends à mourrir jeune, mais que cela n’arrive pas ?…

Auparavant, Max Winter portait un autre nom. Mais c’était dans une autre vie, il y a longtemps.

Maintenant, ce sont les années 1930 à New-York, et Max survit en écrivant des histoires romancées de l’homme qu’il était pour les pulps ; des récits qui parlent d’une frontière oubliée et de hors-la-loi du Far West qui faisaient régner la justice des revolvers à la main.

Mais alors que sa vie s’effiloche, et qu’il voit le monde s’engouffrer lentement vers la guerre face aux nazis en Europe aussi bien que dans les rues de New-York, Max se remet à penser comme un hors-la-loi…

Et une fois engagé sur cette voie, il n’y a pas de retour en arrière possible.

La Dream Team composée de Ed Brubaker & Sean Phillips fait à nouveau mouche, en proposant un récit complet plein de fureur et de sang, situé dans un New York des années 1930, gangrené par les guerres des gangs et la présence rampante des nazis.

Le titre Pulp m’a directement attiré. Les pulps dans les années 1930 à 1960 étaient, aux États-Unis, de courtes histoires souvent violentes, gores, stéréotypées, hyper sexuées (limite sexistes disons-le) et très populaires dû au fait qu’ils étaient à bas prix, imprimés sur du papier de très mauvaise qualité. D’ailleurs, un certain Stephen King a grandi avec ces pulps et ont été et son encore une de ses inspirations.

Bon le titre est une chose, mais la couverture. Ça sentait un peu le western, et un sacré coup de crayon !

Et puis, j’avais entendu parler de Ed Brubaker. Scénaristes de BD à succès, écrivant pour un public adulte (attention, quand je dis public adulte, je ne parle pas de BD holé holé on se comprend !) et dont le nom apparaît sur plusieurs ouvrages qui semblent vraiment intéressant.

Donc, j’ai pris cette bande-dessinée et voici ce que j’en pense.

Une claque magistrale ! Le genre de bande dessinée que vous pouvez donner à un snob des BD et qui peut lui faire oublier ses aprioris sur cet art.

Un scénario brutale, pourtant tellement humain, des dialogues qui tiennent la route. Pas de pathos. Le rythme est parfais. Les dessins sont impressionnants. J’ai adoré les gros-plans sur les personnages comme dans les vieux westerns spaghettis, tellement de talent, tellement réel !

L’encrage est excellent, atypique mais pas dérangeant pour autant. C’est beau. Le jeu sur les ombres est magnifique. Maitrise parfaite du sujet.

C’est violent et émouvant. On sent la colère du personnage principal, on comprend ses motifs, on frissonne. Ça bastonne, ça tire mais c’est aussi psychologique, tendu, plein de suspens. Je l’ai déjà dis, le rythme est excellent. Je n’en dirai pas plus, je vous réserve la surprise de l’histoire, surprenante mais qui tient la route.

On le lit d’une traite. Malheureusement, comme la plupart des BD, je l’ai trouvé trop court, mais j’ai adoré et j’ai encore beaucoup à découvrir du duo Brubaker et Phillips. Ces deux là semblent maîtriser leur sujet à la perfection.

Laissez une chance à cette BD et je doute que vous le regrettiez !