It is a confinement journal that does not like others. But never mind: Monday afternoon, Guy Carlier shared with Matthieu Noël's band in L'Équipée sauvage on Europe 1 a ticket where the posters of Yann Arthus-Bertrand, the guards of Buckingham Palace intersect, the compositions of Louis Bertignac, a piece of tire and the richly supplied wine cellar of Patrick Bruel. In a mess.
"When the band of L'Équipée sauvage asked me to tell about my confinement journal, I immediately thought: 'Oh, but what an original idea? A confinement journal, we recognize Matthew's innovative genius Christmas because he alone is capable of having such a daring idea that no one had thought of before. ' It’s not like tens of thousands of people in all the newspapers, TV stations, radio stations and social media have already told us such fascinating things as' today I did bread 'by showing us a kind of soft and toasted ball coming out of the oven.
You understand, even if the confinement newspapers are for these people the moment of glory of which Andy Warhol spoke, me, frankly, I can't take it anymore. The confinement journals are the Covid-19 slide shows. The slide shows of our childhood, when we came back from vacation, it was a trip to the end of hell, which lasted for hours. Containment journals are slide shows that last for months.
" The animators stage their decor. Generally, we see them in front of a library "Instead of holidays in Greece, the hostess films her apartment, proud of her decor. "Yes, I tried to give a soul to this house," she says, while it is Maisons du monde furniture that we see everywhere. The same palm trees, the same trinkets, these big letters that form the word 'love' ... On the wall, a poster by Yann Arthus-Bertrand. "Oh, look how the yellow of the wheat fields goes well with the green of the pastures, it's a real poetry."
And the inevitable travel souvenir, a miniature yellow taxi bought in New York. 'Do you remember Christiane, we bought it in Times Square the day you posed with the cow-bow playing the guitar naked. Look, we have the photo on the library. ' There is the guard of Buckingham Palace, with a bottle of whiskey, it is the fur cap which makes a cap and which is unscrewed to open.
Some confinement newspapers interest me despite everything: they are those of show business people, or half-people, or radio hosts with whom we have installed the equipment allowing them to make their programs from their home. Obviously, under the pretext of showing us their new studio, they show us their place of life, they stage their decor. Generally, we see them in front of a library.
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So, we zoom in to see what they read. It's always the Pleiades. You think they sorted before the photo, so as not to leave behind what they really read, as Our intestine is our second brain . Some are not paying attention: Patrick Bruel had carefully organized his decor, surrounded by cleverly arranged guitars, but behind him, we saw a wine cellar completely filled.
You are going to think: 'Carlier makes fun of people who are lathered with confinement, but he does the same thing'. Well not quite. If my confinement resembles that of Julie Zenatti, that is to say that it is not particularly interesting, I just wanted to tell you about my partner who is a pulmonologist and who leaves every morning at the hospital.
Me, while waiting, in this apartment, I cook. Yesterday I made stuffed eggplant. It's easy, that: you cut the aubergines in half, you make crosses in the flesh to allow the olive oil to penetrate, you put in the oven and ten minutes before the end of cooking, you cover with gruyère to brown. On the image of Marmiton, it was very beautiful, I pulled out of the oven a flattened blackish thing, which looks like a piece of tire. My partner was happy even if in the evening at 8 pm, after being cheered on the terrace, she spent two hours cleaning the kitchen.
" I, during confinement, write songs for the world "Anyway, I laugh, but I have, like everyone else, difficult and painful moments. I had to start on March 15 a tour with Carl and Guitou, my new show then play in Avignon to be in point in Paris, in October. It all sank into the freezing water of containment.
To forget this disappointment, I am writing a new book and a play, fiction for once. And then came as a gift from heaven the request from Louis Bertignac to write songs with him. He sends me music on which I write texts then he sends me the model of the song with his voice and it is always the same happiness to hear your words sung by the voice of someone you admire. Damn, Bertignac, Phone!
We have all the memories of the world before. So me, during confinement, I write songs for the next world and in the evening, when my heroine comes back from the hospital, I make her listen to the models of our songs while she cleans the kitchen.
I hope to see you soon, even if I risk being confined a little longer than you, because I realized with terror that without realizing it, I am now part of the seniors, in my life I passed status from fat to old, without going through the normal guy box.
But at least I'm happy, we'll meet on stage. I am like you, I have terrible moments of anxiety with this fear of the future which comes to devour our entrails like a pack of rabid dogs. There is no point insisting on this, except to tell you: hang in there guys, it's going to rock but we're going to get out of it. "