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5 fa�ons de vaincre le blues d’un mois de janvier glacial

1. Lever les yeux vers le soleil aveuglant. Les fermer. Se dire: Il fait chaud. Il fait tr�s chaud.
2. S’acheter un bouquet de ses fleurs pr�f�r�es. Les placer en plein soleil. Les prendre en photo. Partager cette photo avec tous.
3. Recevoir constamment des courriels de son amoureux remplis de r�sultats de recherche concernant un futur voyage � Havana.
4. Inviter des amis qu’on n’a pas vus depuis trop longtemps � une soir�e de cocktails et amuse-gueules.
5. Servir des mojitos bien froids avec beaucoup de menthe et les boire avec ses amis au coin du feu, en se faisant croire qu’on est sur une plage � Cuba.

Waking on what feels like a good writing day

She sips her coffee, sets it down, stretches her arms. This is one of the most singular experiences, waking on what feels like a good day, preparing to work but not yet actually embarked. At this moment there are infinite possibilities, whole hours ahead. Her mind hums. This morning she may penetrate the obfuscation, the clogged pipe, to reach the gold. She can feel it inside her, an all but indescribable second self, or rather a parallel, purer self. If she were religious, she would call it the soul. It is more than the sum of her intellect and her emotions, more than the sum of her experiences, though it runs like veins of brilliant metal through all three. It is an inner faculty that recognizes the animating mysteries of the world because it is made of the same substance, and when she is very fortunate she is able to write directly through that faculty. Writing in that state is the most profound satisfaction she knows, but her access to it comes and goes without warning. She may pick up her pen and follow it with her hand as it moves across the paper; she may pick up her pen and find that she’s merely herself, a woman in a housecoat holding a pen, afraid and uncertain, only midly competent, with no idea about where to beging or what to write.
She picks up her pen.

From The Hours, by Michael Cunningham.

The art of using a keyboard instead of a fig leaf…

Oooh, baby! Check out this blogger’s calendar, featuring some of zee hottest bloggers in Europe. I particularly enjoyed Monsieur Septembre and of course, being fond of the color green, I liked « la petite souris verte » of Monsieur D�cembre as well.

But I agree with Michel, how could such a calendar be produced without a photo of Karl in the nude?

Should we do one with the guys from YulBlog? Any volunteers? We could have Blork naked under his apron, Michel rock climbing his indoor wall with a rope as a g-string and AJ thinking up new designs while wearing only socks.

And I don’t want anybody to tell me that I am being sexist, and if only the pictures were of women I wouldn’t think this was funny, blah, blah, blah. Hell, there are plenty of women bloggers who are happily showing their cleavage on this damn Web! Bill, show them how it’s done !