D’amour et d’eau de javel

Je sais pas quand ça c’est passé. Je sais pas. Mais quand je le regarde maintenant, c’est plus pareil. En fait c’est comme quand j’met pas mes lunettes, je plisse les yeux pour mieux voir. Mais là c’est pas des lunettes que ça me prend. C’est quoi? Si je voyais de l’amour dans ses yeux, est-ce que j’en voudrais aujourd’hui? De toute façon, pourquoi y en aurait soudainement? Y a du désir des fois, mais j’ai pas toujours l’impression que c’est parce que c’est moi. Surtout quand j’me déguise. J’y ai tout donné. J’ai joué tous les rôles. Je l’ai fouetté, insulté, frappé, marché dessus. Et plus. Je n’y pense plus. De le voir toujours soumis, c’est un turn off maintenant. J’ai pensé longtemps que c’était ça le cul, sale, violent, tordu.

Mais j’ai 34 ans, ça fait bientôt 19 ans qu’on est ensemble pis là mettons que j’en ai plein l’cul. Ça ne m’allume plus depuis longtemps, mais bon, j’ai toughé. Des fois je lui dis, on fait comme dans un porn ok? Ordinaire, une pipe, par en avant, par en arrière. Il est pas capable.

Je me fais peut-être des illusions, peut-être que j’ai tout faux, mais me semble que ça serait plus façile pour moi de vouloir rester si on avait une vie sexuelle satisfaisante. Je suis encore capable de lui donner ce dont il a besoin, je suis encore capable de le satisfaire, mais je ne suis plus capable de ne pas l’être. Et je ne pense pas que de me mettre à courailler va sauver mon couple non plus, mais euh, bon, humm… ouan c’est ça.

Dans ma caméra

Il y a mes yeux qui te regardent
Il y a mon cou qui attend tes dents
Il y a mes seins qui se dressent
Il y a mon dos, sur lequel tombent mes cheveux
Il y a mes cuisses qui s’entrouvrent
Il y a mon sexe qui brille sous le flash
Il y a mes fesses qui t’invitent
Il y a mon désir qui n’en finit plus, qui crie, qui pleure, qui supplie
Il y a le fantôme de tes mains, de ta bouche, de ta langue, de ta queue
Il y a l’espace entre toi et moi
Il y a l’espace

I love death

*Brilliant* flash movie

Original content at www.lodger.tv


Nothing on TV, don’t feel like going to the library, no more books to read or reread (unless I go downstairs and open a few boxes… screw it, too much work)…

I’ll hop around the blogs, leaving small comments and lose myself in other people’s lives.

Another night at the bar for L., meaning I’ll go to bed early. Avoidance. Pathetic. Empty. Lifeless. How about cancelling the whole fucking thing, rewind, go back, erase, burn.

I’m dying here, as dry as that egg that’s threading its way to my uterus. No point in making the journey buddy. Just ask me, I’ll tell you how the story ends.


Le poids de la vérité

Je le sens peser très lourd. Je sens ma raison m’abandonner un peu plus chaque jour, même si de l’écrire me soulage momentanément. Mais dans le fond, ce que je fais, c’est que j’évite de penser. J’évite la douleur, le manque, le vide, le silence, la peine, l’échec, la peur, l’insécurité, la solitude, la vérité.

La vrai vérité, celle qui me pousse à fuir encore. Celle qui me terrorise. Celle que je n’arrive même pas à écrire de peur de la voir me regarder.

La vérité qui m’empêche d’aller dans mon folder et de deleter tous ces emails que je ne lis plus. Tous ces moments qui m’ont aidé à me lever le matin et donné enfin le goût de passer à travers la journée. Tous ces mots qui m’ont rendu belle. Toute cette merde dans laquelle je me suis mise. Et cette dernière entrée qui m’a tuée.

J’ai perdu la vie pendant quelques minutes cette journée là. Mon coeur s’est arrêté, même si en voyant le message qui me disait qu’un nouveau email était arrivé, je savais ce qu’il contenait.

Je savais que mes journées ne seraient plus les mêmes, que ma vie redeviendrait vide, que plus jamais je n’aurais ton visage entre mes mains. Je l’avais déjà lu avant de l’ouvrir.

La vérité… c’est lourd. C’est fucking dur. La vérité, ça me fait chier.

Truth is…

Standing in the middle of the office today, amidst the cubicles, looking at that loser hooking up a plastic santa to her partition… I just lost it…

-You know, I fucking hate Christmas.
-Why do you say that?
-Because I fucking hate it, everything about it.
-Nahhh you don’t really mean that!
-It’s all shit to me. All that spending is shit, shopping for gifts is shit, dressing up for people you hate is shit, driving in the snow to eat food that will make you sick is shit and quite frankly all these decorations around here are shit!

Blank stares…

-You have quite an attitude today… pmsing?
-No, I am ovulating… which is sometimes worst than pmsing.
-Really? That’s interesting
-I just realized that today is my most fertile day of the month… Now, were I looking to procreate, who the hell would want to fuck me today?

Blank stares…

My thought exactly

I just love Andy Capp. Every time I go to the used book place I look for the small collections, the very old ones. The recent ones I don’t like as much, because they took Andy’s accent away and it just isn’t the same.

Ten things I never said but should’ve

Surfing blogs I was directed by Stephaine to Secret Garden for an interesting exercise… Ten things I never said but should’ve. Just list them without putting the name of the persone they’re intended to. The funny thing is, as they both mention, is that you realize after writing them down that they can be directed to more than one person.

1. No it’s not ok.
2. I never meant to do this to you, I’m sorry.
3. Shut up already!
4. I’m sorry I didn’t say I love you more often.
5. Please leave.
6. I don’t want you in my life anymore.
7. Sure you can come over.
8. Yes I do mind.
9. Your heroin habit is a turn off really.
10. It was me that stole that gram from your stash, sorry about the problems it brought you.

I enjoyed that 🙂

I’m glad I’m not into drugs anymore… I haven’t touched anything in over 15 years except the occasional joint. And I still have issues with that part of my life, imagine.

Death all around

This time of the year, not only am I reminded of my mom’s death, but also of my childhood friend. She shot herself in the head. On January 2nd 2000.

C. and I met in 6th grade. I was new to this small town up in the laurentians, coming from Montreal. My mom send me to live with my dad because she wanted to… well, I don’t know what she wanted but she ended up dancing topless and feeding her coke habit. Anyways. So I’m sent to live with my father and his girlfriend. It was really hard the first few weeks. I didn’t know anyone, and everybody knew each other. I started to hang out with a weird family that lived next to the school, smoking and stealing and stuff. Then one day one of the girls I was “friends” with confronted me with my friend to be. Saying I had badmouthed her. Which was true, but I wasn’t gonna admit to it. So C. jumped on me and started to beat the shit out of me. I had never been in a fight and had no clue what to do.

I was on my back, C. straddling me, punching me in the face when an old man got out of his car and started to yell at C. to get off me, leave me alone. So I did what I thought was the safest thing to do… I told the old guy to get the fuck back in his car, this was none of his business… And a friendship was born.

She was living with her mom, who was a sometimes dancer, mostly waitress and barmaid. Into drugs of course. I celebrated my 12th birthday smoking a joint with C., her mom and her mom’s boyfriend. We were best friends, I basically lived at her place.

Throughout the years, we took a lot of drugs, fucked a lot of boys and beat up a lot of people. But then I moved back to Montreal and it wasn’t the same anymore. We grew apart. She really went all out and also became a dancer… then dealer… then escort… then she had a kid… then she got AIDS… then she hooked up with a loser who beat her up… who left a fucking gun in the house… which she used to kill herself.

She was an accident waiting to happen. She was miserable. She loved her daughter to death. She was my friend.

Wild is the Wind

By Nina SimoneLove me love me say you do
Let me fly away with you
For my love is like the wind
And wild is the wind

Give me more than one caress
Satisfy this hungriness
Let the wind blow through your heart
For wild is the wind

touch me…
I hear the sound of mandolins
kiss me…
With your kiss my life begins
You’re spring to me
All things to me
Don’t you know you’re life itself

Like a leaf clings to a tree
Oh my darling, cling to me
For we’re creatures of the wind
And wild is the wind
So wild is the wind

Wild is the wind
Wild is the wind

-Dimitri Tiomkin, Ned Washington