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Showing posts from February, 2006

Enfin! At last!

We're leaving Tuesday at 5am. I leave you, dear blog, dear friends, for a week of swealtering heat, plenty of rum, food and fun!

Take care. I will miss you.


Départ mardi matin à 5 heures. Je vous laisse, cher blog, chers amis, pour une semaine remplie de rhum, de bonne bouffe et de plaisir, tout ça dans une chaleur démoniaque.

Prenez soin de vous. Vous me manquerez.

Je vous embrasse xxx


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A few more days...
Before I throw away the key.
A few more days of roaming through my soul.
Some things to say not said yet.
This piece of luggage is staying here.
I'll travel light.

Through, in, over

How deep can the division be.

night and day
real and dream
written and said
thought and meant

How long can I keep the walls from closing in.
On me.

How long before your ghosts wake me.
Wake me.

This is stop and go at it's most cruel state.
Moving on and leaving so much behind.
Staying and waiting and hoping.

The divison, the duality.
So close, the wall paper thin.

As I lay my face on it.
I feel the warmth of yours on the other side.

Unmovable. Unfillable. Uncrossable.
The wall. The hole. The divide.

Jet Set Sec

Lancement de disque de Rick Hughes. Club Soda. 5 à 7. Je suis un peu énervée, c'est la première fois que je vais à un lancement... Plate, plate, plate. Pas une maudite vedette... Ah oui, Steve Diamond. Qui ça? Ben c'est ça. Toutes les stations de rèdio y étaient, pis des journalistes, des caméras, Flash notre Entertainment Tonight local... Cibole que c'était poche.

Mais Rick Hughes donne un bon show. Je l'ai vu avec son band Sword, dans les années 80... Ouin ça me rajeuni pas. Anyway... Il a une voix incroyable. Mais ses tounes sont so-so. Bon, il est entouré d'excellents musiciens. Et live, c'est sur, ça sonne. Mais je reconnaissais plein de riffs de Led Zep, Metallica, Maiden... C'est fatiquant. Sa ballade, Une Seconde, ça fait Marc Déry par bout. Overall, je suis pas certaine que ça va vendre tant que ça. C'est rock à la Éric Lapointe, mais ça s'en va un peu de tout les bords. Et je trouve ça plate qu'il n'ait pas essayé autre chose avec sa voix. Les longs cris à la Robert Plant, ou les finales le poing en l'air, la note étirée à la Rob Halford, c'est pas très original.

J'ai quand même aimé ça voir les camera hores et les petites pitounes aux cheveux crêpés. Je me serais crue à la Mansarde ou au Backstreet... Ahhhhh que de souvenirs!

On est allés souper au Petit Extra! Yééééé! Ça faisait une éternité... Toujours aussi bon, toujours aussi cher. Mais ça fait du bien, sortir un peu.

The first step

I think it went well. He found others. Men. A place to share without shame, judgement. The prayers disturbed him a little, but he understands their meaning. I think he went thinking there would only be junkies and losers. That he did not belong in that kind of crowd. He came back realizing that they all were equal in their addiction. He's tired. He's fed up. He's not having fun anymore. He sees things slipping away.

He says he's going to a meeting tomorrow. And maybe Friday too.

I'm here. I always have been. The change is that I stopped seeing his problem as being mine. I left him the sole responsibility of his actions. I won't bear the weight anymore. I want him to stop for him. But I'm here. Every time he said he'd stop, I was here. I believe in him.

A big step

Tonight is a big night. L. is attending a 12 step progam meeting... It's the first time he actually tries something, in all these years.

The trigger? Valentine's day most likely. This was not an evening to remember. I walked in the bedroom, he was there, a glass of scotch on the bedside table, coked out of his mind. I was so, so dissapointed. But proud at the same time, because I was able to tell him. Instead of saying nothing, turning my head, gritting my teeth, waiting for it to be over. I spoke up. No fight. I just said "I am so dissapointed. I thought we could make this evening special, make love instead of fucking, like usual. I think you missed a great opportunity." That's all I said.

So he's at the meeting right now. It was starting at 7.30pm. He hasn't called yet. So I'm hoping it means that he stuck around. I'm hoping we can talk about it when he gets home. I'm hoping he will like it enough to go back.

Uploaded nightmare

Well, has been down for 2 days. I've been looking for an alternative, a service that allows me to embed my mp3 into this blog. And so far, nothing. So I'm testing a few. Now, this, castpost, embeds a player. But I want the file to start playing by itself, I don't want a player... But that's me. And that player here is quite ugly, clunky and big. Well, back to my hunt!

Circle Jerk

I love you dearly, but I must not write to please you right? I must write for me. And as hard as I've tried to pull myself out of this fucking hole, I'm still very much in it. And I'll mope and whine and slather my despair all over my blog. Because that's how I feel. And writing here is what I need to keep madness from reaching its ultimate goal, which is my mind.

In December L. and I decided to give our relationship a chance. And I'm having a hard time right now. Very hard. I'm still convinced it was the right decision. I just don't know if I'll be able to go through with this. I can't even word it. I just need to say it.

I don't think it's going to work out.

What a fucking mess.

I'm looking forward to our trip in Colombia. I think it will be a nice change of pace. Get out of the house, the routine. I want this trip to make or brake things. Something has to happen. I can make it happen. Regardless. I can change my mind, I can admit I was wrong, or that I was right.

As for now, my mind has left the building. I'm running low on gas. I'm not going to give up, but I need to recharge my batteries. What better place than a beach in South America?

Un bon coup d'pied dans l'cul

Des fois ça prend ça. J'en ai reçu un de mon amifellowblogger Jeliel dans son commentaire à mon dernier post. Franchement, ça fait du bien. J'ai pas d'affaire à me sentir si misérable. Pas à cause de choses ou de gens sur lesquels je n'ai aucun contrôle. Pas à cause d'événements que j'ai moi-même provoqués. C'est vrai que c'est simple. C'est aussi vrai que c'est façile de s'appitoyer, de se laisser aspirer, de se noyer dans le noir. C'est même confortable. Beaucoup plus que de se botter le cul. Des fois des coups de pied au cul se perdent. Pas celui-çi.

J'apprend à tous les jours. Je m'enfarge souvent, mais ça fait de moins en moins mal, parce que je tombe de moins haut. Une main tendue, c'est bien. Un coup d'pied dans l'derrière c'est mieux. Pour moi en tout cas. Je ne veux pas tout considérer avec du recul. Je veux voir les choses venir de loin. Bon, là je les ai dans la face, mais c'est mieux que rien.

Des attentes, j'en ai beaucoup. Je dois me contenter de celles qui me concernent. Celles qui sont bénifiques. Les empoisonneuses, les négatives, les impossibles, elles ne sont que des prétextes. Pour m'éviter de me regarder de trop près. Et de le faire à jeûn. C'est pas toujours joli.

One word

There are times I miss getting wasted. Acid, mescalin, thc, coke, pills, booze, whatever I could put my hands on. To look at life, at things, at people, as colors and movements and temperatures and smells. Lobotomized reality. There are times, I wish emotions did not take over and hurt so bad.

That's a lame statement, "hurt so bad". It doesn't really translate the actual hurt, because we hear and say it so much. When I say hurt, I mean physically hurting, scathing, scorching, mutilating. It's ripping my insides, it's choking me.

I feel totally lost, totally alone in my hurt. I feel pushed away, when in fact I was pulled in.

I'm sad, sad, sad so fucking sad. I will do what I do every day. I will say what I say every day. But I will go to bed sad. And I will wake up sad. And only one word could turn this around. Not two, not three. Just like only one drove me here.

Hours will pass. Days will pass. The sadness will recede, like a wave. Will return, like the tide. But to where the word came from, to where the word could come from, I will go back. I will ask again. I take full responsability. The fear of rejection is lesser than the desire of acceptance.

I want to beg, I want to plea, I want to kneel in front of you and cry. I want everything to stop. Everything to be right.

I still hope to hear the word. Because to think that it will not come is unbearable. I was there not too long ago. Thought I was through, thought I was done. Then one word. Like boiling water over everything I've said. Like when you stroke a match. Me. Instant combustion. Scorched remains, ashes.

Sweep me off the floor. Blow me away. I'm done.

La petite cage

Le monde s'écroule autour d'elle
Un bébé dans son ventre
Un sans-coeur sur le sofa
Une amie sur le hold

C'est un adieu qu'elle ne veut pas faire
Qu'elle va faire pour lui
Qu'elle va faire pour le garder
Qu'elle regrette déjà avant de l'avoir fait

Une lettre à laquelle elle n'a pas répondu
Un sourire mort sur ses lèvres
Une larme coupant son visage
Une porte qu'elle m'a claqué dans la face

Dans sa petite cage
Elle croupi
Dans sa petite cage
Elle se meurt

The Kiss

What about that first kiss, when the world disapeared and only his breath kept you alive?

What about the taste on your tongue as you licked your lips hours after he was gone?

What about the smell that lingered on your sweater, still hidden in the drawer? What about the swoon of the hearth when you bury your face in it and catch a glimpse of his scent?

What about the blue of his eyes? What about the clouds that stopped moving while you thought you were looking at the sky?

What about the hours spent feeling the ghost of his touch? What about the words that stayed, stay, echo, shout, that makes you want to runaway?

What about the movie in your head, playing until you're sick, until you can't take it anymore?

What about the emptiness? Yes, what about the longing to be full again.

What about that first kiss? Long gone, but still printed on your soul?


Kiss me kiss me kiss me!
Your tongue is like poison
So swollen it fills up my mouth

Love me love me love me!
You nail me to the floor
And push my guts all inside out

Get it out get it out get it out!
Get your fucking voice
Out of my head!

I never wanted this
I never wanted any of this
I wish you were dead
I wish you were dead

I never wanted any of this
I wish you were dead
-The Cure

She's pregnant again...

For the fourth fucking time. She never kept one. And she won't keep it this time either.

She's my best friend. But two years ago I told her abortion is not fucking contraception. Get your shit together. She won't take the pill, she says it's too chemical, it's bad for her body. No shit! What about condoms, abstinence, the calendar? What ever it takes. I don't understand her. I don't want to judge her, but when I got her email this morning I was very angry at her. Still am.

Anything else, I wouldn't even think twice about being there for her. But I have to admit, I'm so so disapointed. Her boyfriend is a leech, hasn't found a job in months, just sits at home watching sports and smoking pot, pretending to go to interviews. She wrote me "We thought about it together and decided it was best this way".

Frankly, I'm speechless. I love her, I want her to be happy. I let her live whatever she has to go through and try to be there whenever she needs me. I will be there again. But I don't know if things will ever be the same. Abortion. For the FOURTH time. This is just wrong.

When my son was 6 weeks old I had one. I am pro-choice, of course, all the way. This is completely different though. What can I tell her, what can I say that won't hurt her, how can I hold back on something like this? I don't know if I'll be able to. We'll see.

Click here to enter

A question, that I was not able to answer
A question, that I still hear
"What do you like?"
Months, and still
The interrogation is laughing at me
"What do you like?"
And at the time, sitting on the floor
Between his legs, my face resting on his thigh
I could not come up with an answer
"I don't know, I don't know"
Even as I said it, I was ashamed
Of myself, of the sound the words made
I still hear it, them
Because I've yet to come up with an answer
"What do you like?"
Sport fuck performance anxiety
Tanned tight smooth
Hairless plastic latex covered feelings
Bound branded humiliated underfoot
Dominated submissive trampled
Nothing is real, it's downloaded
How am I supposed to know?
How are we supposed to know?


Thanks to my very illegal copies of pretty much everything on this computer, I've spent the last 6 hours sitting here, fixing my mistakes. Major, major losses. But at least I'm online, yes, safely. This is not the first time it happens. Am I considering actually buying software? No. Unless it comes with the next machine I buy.


Woke up with the headache from hell, not even because I was hungover. Just because. What I really needed today was a deep muscle massage, head, neck, shoulders, back. Yeah, right, like that's going to happen. I don't even ask for it. Half assed doesn't do it. I did what I could myself. Much better results that having him ask me every 30 seconds if it's enough.


Sometimes I think if I could've had more kids I would've. Then they invite some friends over, and man am I glad I didn't.


Bought some books lately, and also went to the librairy. I have 3 going on at the same time. I can't concentrate. Half the cycle is here. Yes, ovulation, then a few days off, then all hell will break loose. Right at the start of our trip to Colombia. Poor them...

Climbing up the walls

je laisse un message
je donne de mes nouvelles
je lâche un cri
je compose le numéro de poste
français montreal xxxxxx xxxxxxxx
il n'y a pas de service au numéro que vous avez composé
désolé l'abonné que vous désirez rejoindre n'est pas...
le vide le vide bordel
y a rien plus rien
sauf moi qui grimpe aux murs
l'attente du mouvement dans les rideaux
l'oreille tendue, c'est la troisième marche qui craque
la chatte me regarde
crisse de folle

Clock watcher

That's me! Today anyway. Man, that day is draggin'. I use MSN at work, mostly to communicate with my carriers, and a little bit to chat with friends. I have this guy, a carrier that does a lot of work for me. But he's getting on my nerves big time... asking about my panties and stuff. He's always complaining about his wife, about his marriage, bla bla bla... I'm probably going to shut him up before the end of the day. Loser.

I finish at 4pm here... Then I go straight home, PS2 is calling, gotta go on tour. SSX tour. I don't care what other people say, I love it :)

Second post of the day from work... I should feel guilty right?

Fickle fickle

I'm at work. The fact that I can be here and do this, and read blogs and read GNN.TV and chat with friends, work a total of 35 hours in my week, and be very well paid bothers me. I rarely keep a job for more than 2 years. After the novelty has gone, and people show their real (stinking lying) face, I leave. Or another company grabs me.

Fuck security, fuck the pension plan, fuck the insurance coverage. I hate it here. The WOMEN... and my boss too. I was promised a bunch of things when they hired me. Nothing has happened, and that irritates me. But for everything that is going on here, the one thing that I can't stand anymore is the people. The rest I could deal with. And I don't think it's worth fighting in this case. I'm the one who doesn't fit in. And I can live with that.

So starting today I will start looking. No haste. It might take a few days, weeks, months, it's ok. I don't care, as long as I know that I won't stay here. Some people have been working here for more than 20 years. I don't understand that. 20 years??? There's this woman, all she does all day is to take off staples from stacks of papers and run the papers through a scanner, and re-staple the stack. 8 hours a day, for 4 years now. Can you imagine this? I can't. I'd be dead inside.

I could go on and on, but at this point I even bore myself with all this shit. At least it's Friday.

J'ai du fun

C'est pas vrai. Je m'emmerde.
J'gosse mon blog, j'gosse mes amis, j'gosse après la télécommande, j'gosse après les trois livres que j'essaye de lire en même temps. Y en a pas un qui arrive a m'intéresser plus de 10 minutes. J'ai fumé trop de cigarettes, j'ai plus rien à fumer, sauf des cigarettes. Y est où papa? Avec ses amis. Encore? Ben oui, encore. Aussi ben de même, y m'gosserait. J'attends, j'attends, j'attends, j'ai tellement faim. Je suis à combler.


Commenting comments

I suck at commenting on your blog. I know. And that's when I do post a comment. And when I do, it's mostly because I want to you to know I'm here, I'm reading you, I still come around, if that means anything to you. It does to me. I lurk, and you welcome me. You lurk, and I welcome you. No comments necessary nor expected.

I travel all around the world, across continents, or just a few miles, walk into your house, your space, and I really appreciate you letting me in. And commenting is my way of saying thank you. But I know my comments suck. Sometimes after reading a post, I need to reflect on it. At other times it just makes me smile, or cry. And still at other times I feel all has been said and what more could I add, except something like "I agree, you're right, that was great, thank you..."

Everything I tell you is true. I just wish it sounded better, made me look smarter, translated everything I thought about your post. About your post, not you personally. We're only on a nickname basis afterall.

So this is my appology. For my empty comments. I just wanted you to know that I meant a lot more. I meant to praise, console, revere, sympathise, share a laugh, differ on an opinion, be thankful for the experiences you've shared with me.


I've put a little background music. Does it work for you? You can comment on that ;)


Scorpio rising

When you kiss the base o'my spine
Make my body into your shrine
You give me this feeling deep inside
One that I can no longer disguise
While other snakes just shed their skins
Fucked holes pointing out my sins
Even though I realise that history's not on my side
Even though I realise the pioneer skin still curls up in my eyes
If I don't go crazy, I'll lose my mind
I saw a life before me but now I'm blind
I wanna go to heaven, never been there before
I wanna go to heaven, so you give me some more
-Death in Vegas

Rising from ashes scattered already
I am not lost, just looking for a destination
I want to go there
I want to go where you saw it
What did you see anyway?
Not saying, not telling
Well, I'm on my way
I'll be there. To see.


It's been occuring more and more. I find more meaning in other people's words than in mine. It frustrates me and inspires me at the same time. Sometimes I feel like all has been said, then I realize that what I have to say, write, cannot come from someone else, therefore can not have been told. I'm exploring other words, other rythms. In my head. Now I have to give them life.

Writing is becoming an art. Again. After all these years. First here now. Journal. Now here something else. I love it, but I'm afraid. Of what I can write. And what I can't write. That may be why I'm paying more attention to lyrics, stories, written by other people.

I need to write. That I know. Sometimes I don't write, I don't post, but the words are all there. Knocking, tearing, pushing. I'm holding back, but what? At other times I write like mad. Unsent letters. And I know it's good. But why is it easier to delete than send or post?


From afar, or close by
Smells textures shapes that I miss
I see so clearly
I could reach
I could touch
I want to bury my face in the warmth
I want to drown my words in the dark
Swallow the past
Expell my shame
Scream my all my whole
Not all is lost
For I still have a bottle opener
I pour and the overlflow flows
Touches my toes
I walk in wet memories
And leave a trail to follow

She wore an itsy bitsy teeny weeny...

I walked in the store, my mind made up. I want a bikini. I'm done hiding, being ashamed. I love my body, it's the others that don't. Some of them anyways. You know the kind. The kind that thinks that skin is always smooth, that hair doesn't grow back, that nipples should be tiny, that boobs shouldn't sag, that bellies should wear a six pack at all times. Fuck 'em.

I've been hiding, camouflaging, avoiding. I walked in the store today thinking about all this. The fact is, I never really looked at my body. Then I lost all that weight. And now I can't stop looking touching feeling. It's not perfect, and as a matter of fact, some parts of me I liked better with the weight on. Nevertheless, I chose today to live a little.

I walked in the store and looked at all the bathing suits, and I couldn't believe what I've been missing. All these years hidding in a black one piece. The colors, the fabrics, the shapes. I tried at least 15 on. Bikinis. And 2 one peice, for good measure. Well not for good measure. My little voice was not so little today. It was screaming "You can't do that! Can't wear a bikini, you're too old, too fat, too soft, too too." I tried a one piece and walked around with it in my hands for quite a while. Then I found the perfect one. The perfect 2 piece. Dumped the one piece like it was on fire. Told the voice to shut the fuck up.

So what. I have stretch marks. My ass is sagging a bit. And? I look great in that bikini. It's yellow and orange and green and white and, and, and.... I look like a surfer girl :)

All this... for what? Cartagena Colombia. In three weeks.

Quant à toi

Parce que j'y pense, on y pense tous.
Parce qu'on se pose de ces questions qui ne méritent pas de réponses.
Parce que partout les mots ne nous suffisent plus, ne nous définissent plus, ou à peine.

Il y a de ces moments où seul le silence peut tout expliquer.


Quant à toi dépasse la tour,
Allonge la main au faîte de la tour
Et fais signe à ceux qui n'ont pas de vue au-dedans.

Fais ce silence et parle ces signes
Afin qu'on sache qu'il est des choses dans la tour
Que là-dedans vit quelque chose qu'on ne voit pas
Mais existe, une perle précieuse.
-Saint-Denys Garneau

Immobile, pour l'instant

la perfection, l'idéal, le summum. le top man. c'est moi des fois. dans des yeux. dans un sourire. dans une caresse. dans les mots qui me tombent dessus, venus de nulle part. ils m'arrivent, demandent rien, sont là. and then I fucking rule.

cinq minute plus tard, c'est la dèche. le ciel s'ouvre et m'innonde d'encre noire qui s'infiltre dans mes yeux mes oreilles mes narines ma bouche. c'est le dead end du dépotoire. les yeux, le sourire, la caresse, même les mots... sont tachés, sales. and then I write.

une seconde, immobile entre les deux, qui va décider du mouvement. et je la tiens entre mes doigts. et je l'écrase doucement. et je souffle dessus. et elle part en poussière.

Sanding the edges

It was hard to write this. And it drained me. But drained a lot of shit. A lot of a lot.

I'm starting to really appreciate my tendency to dwell on some things. I dwelled... only to realize that it's because I still had to deal. To heal. To embrace their presence in me, accept what they have brought me. What they will bring me.

Birds flying high you know how I feel
Sun in the sky you know how I feel
Reeds driftin' on by you know how I feel

It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
And I'm feeling good

Fish in the sea you know how I feel
River running free you know how I feel
Blossom in the tree you know how I feel

It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
And I'm feeling good

Dragonfly out in the sun you know what I mean, don't you know
Butterflies all havin' fun you know what I mean
Sleep in peace when day is done
That's what I mean

And this old world is a new world
And a bold world
For me

Stars when you shine you know how I feel
Scent of the pine you know how I feel
Oh freedom is mine
And I know how I feel
-Anthony Newley, Leslie Bricusse / by Nina Simone

The Kong

Finally saw King Kong tonight. I loved it. It was everything I wanted it to be. No more, no less. Some people I know thought it was lacking in lightsaber action, but it was fine by me.