Vernissage
I had the weirdest dream last night. I was in a huge room, high ceilings, my footsteps echoing. The room was filled with easels, all occupied by large canvases. On the canvases were my posts, written in black paint, still wet, dripping at places.
And as I was walking, trying to make out the words, a guy was walking behind me, saying
-This has to go, this has to go, you can’t keep these
-No, no, I want to keep them all
-But you can’t, you have to get rid of them, it’s too many
I was feeling threatened, dread was mounting. I was looking, trying to read, but I couldn’t get close enough to any of the pieces. Everything was blurry, because I didn’t have my glasses. And the guy was getting closer. I wasn’t looking behind me, I couldn’t see his face. But I could feel his nervousness, hear his breath, smell his clothes.
-This room HAS to be empty by tomorrow
-But what am I gonna do?
-I don’t care, just get rid of them
-No I won’t!
And I started running towards the center of the room, smelling the paint, the rust from the pipes on the walls. And I woke up. I don’t remember having smelt in my dreams before.
Hello! My name is:
Once I was in a NFB (National Film Board: a government owned film production agency) movie. They threw a post production party and invited all the participants to a viewing and cheap buffet.
When I saw myself on the screen it was the biggest shock of my life. I started crying. Everything, everything. My face 20 feet tall showed everything. All the things I was working so hard to hide were there. And all I could think of was, when the lights come up, people will look at me. Because they have seen. I couldn’t follow the movie. A loop, playing. They see me, they see me, they see me. Of course they didn’t see.
My layers, through the years, have grown thicker. Have melded. Made a heavy coat that at some point I thought was comfortable enough to wear all the time. I could run, jump, dance, fuck and never break a sweat.
Everything gets done slower now. My shoulders are bent and my knees are about to give. My name tag flew off at some point. I’m not even sure that coat belongs to me.
Individuality is a bad excuse for disguise.
Mother’s day… for real
Because they are the most beautiful, wonderful children a mother could dream of having
Because every day makes sense when we kiss goodnight
Because I can make their frown disapear with my arms
Because they can make my frown disapear in theirs
I am thankful there is a Mother’s day
It reminds me how lucky I am to have such beauty surround me every day
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Mother’s day…La fête des mères
Perfect gift: home alone for a few hours
Even more perfect gift: CSI’s second season DVD boxset
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Le cadeau parfait: quelques heures de solitude à la maison
Le cadeau plusss parfait: le coffret DVD de la deuxième saison de CSI
EDIT: Le cadeau ultra plussss parfait… genre:
(j’ai du enlever le code, désolée) T’as le look Coco, c’était la toune.
Mantra
There’s always after
There’s always tomorrow
Right now is already gone
Right now is a war raging
Yesterday was a prelude
The second between the two was a breath
The moment in stillness
The stillness of moments
I can’t stand unsettled ripples
I heard: I am here I am back
Wallowing in images from a flash of light
I thought it held the truth
Does lighting make you blind, even for a moment?
Not an imprint of reality
But the emptiness of absolute whiteness
Alone in its clarity
Si j’avais porté une jupe
Dans l’auto j’ai relevé ma jupe un peu, enlevé mes sandales parce que j’aime conduire pieds nus. La fenêtre baissée, le vent. J’ai mis ma main entre mes jambes, poussé le bord de ma culotte, j’ai pensé à tous ces yeux, toutes ces mains, sur moi, en moi. Sur Bonaventure, à 120 km/h. j’ai même pas levé le pied de la pédale.