What are your biggest anxieties?
N. B.: Small details, like the insignificance of existence, the precariousness of feelings, the injustice of desire, the fear of being "disillusioned" ...
Yet, we can not say that in your chronicles, you seek to make yourself loved ...
N. B.: Yes, but I'm not looking for everyone's love, it's different. The general public, that always seems suspicious. The esteem of some is necessarily contradicted by that of others. And then the "public" is pretty vague for me. I need to put faces, tastes, names on people. I am never as serene as I am alone, or in a bed, with the one I love. I'm not talking about sex, I'm talking about these moments of intimacy, unbridled chatter, free humor. I only feel good with women.
Why, then, do your love stories not hold?
N. B.: I do not know. Because there comes a time when, after a few years, I say to myself: "She is wonderful, but it is not the good one." I would be hard to tell you what I think is "the good", but here ... And also because the opposite happened to me: I was not "the good".
You are not tempted to do an analysis to get out of this repetition?
N. B.: Yes, I think about it. I am like a guy who would have exploded his legs: his first concern is to relearn how to walk. Then he can start to wonder, "Where?" I'm here. For years, I learned to live again. Now, I would like to know why. Say, it's heavy, this interview!
And the virulence of your chronicles, how do you explain it? Is not she a little suicidal?
N. B.: Of course. Jean Dujardin often said to me: "Fuck, we always have the impression that it's your last TV!" I always write my last book. I saw my last day. I am giving you my last interview. Hence the shamelessness of my writings. Before leaving, we balance everything. I am always surprised to get back on the horse.