Gilbert

Sébastien Chabal à l'entraînement mardi à Marcoussis.

I was just reading the news and i saw this picture on lefigaro.fr. The beard from Chabal seems so fake!! plus he seems to have grey hair now too? what is happening to the french hero? is he becoming older? no? is that possible? I am turning 29 in one month and one day. Depressing. Time for me to find a good fake beard producer…

This is a pretty active sunday i am living. I was up at 8, ate breakfast, read the news, asked myself if the weather was ok to run outside but it was so cold, plus my compagny found it too cold too, so i changed my plans for some spinning at work. I rided bycicle 2 hours there, with an average pulse of 161, which is pretty low for me, and sung the whole time, except when i was simulating upslopes. I think i will have serious pains tomorrow in the legs but i did it. At the beginning, i was reading but i noticed that i was sweating on my book, so i stopped and was just listening to music and singing loud to the songs.

I came home and had 2 invitations for nice things for today, but i choose to meet the people i miss the most between the 2 and it will be cinema in one hour or so in nice compagny.

Later, i have to take care of my laundry. This is exactly what i HATE. Maybe you think this word is too strong, but i really HATE to make laundry. When i will be rich, it will be the first thing i will pay someone to do. And then the cleaning. But laundry, BLEH!

For this sunday, you got a maybe sad song, but one that i like and i really hope that i am good.

What good am I if I’m like all the rest
If I just turn away, when I see how you’re dressed
If I shut myself off so I can’t hear you cry
What good am I?

What good am I if I know and don’t do
If I see and don’t say, if I look right through you
If I turn a deaf ear to the thunderin’ sky
What good am I?

What good am I while you softly weep
And I hear in my head what you say in your sleep
And I freeze in the moment like the rest who don’t try
What good am I?

What good am I then to others and me
If I’ve had every chance and yet still fail to see
If my hands are tied must I not wonder within
Who tied them and why and where must I have been?

What good am I if I say foolish things
And I laugh in the face of what sorrow brings
And I just turn my back while you silently die
What good am I?

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