I should be in a better mood. I should be thankful my kids are as healthy and bright as they are. I should give more love. I should stop whining and do something about everything. I should stop using the words murder, kill, shit, fuck, asshole, motherfucker, stupid, ignorant, bitch… so much. Although I did come up with a few imaginative combinations today.

I should let go, open up, smile, feel, enjoy.

I should shut up. I should find a doctor that would be willing to rip my uterus out and throw it far, far away. I should invent a weapon against premenstrual syndrome and kill it slowly and deliciously.

I went down to the crossroads

Did fall down on my knees, but did not ask the lord for mercy. Just wondered how the fuck I ended up here. I mean, I remember most of it. But there’s this blur, like the moment between day and night when the lights are not on yet, but the sun is gone. I’d say a year… Maybe two. Lost. Lost because I have no recollection of living. No memories of specific moments, happy or sad. No feelings either. A great acheivement our house is. A monster house. A monster of a prison, where I cannot find myself. Where I’m lost, where my voice has disapeared, where I have faded.

Then one day, one night, one minute, I don’t know, I was crying. And I was here, I was alive, I was still me. I was crying for the first time over myself. I was crying over me, whom I thought I had lost forever. But I’ve found myself again. But so much pain. But now what? I’m at the crossroads, and no lord will give me mercy, for I will not ask. I will get it myself thank you very much.

Rain song

These are the seasons of emotion
And like the winds they rise and fall
This is the wonder of devotion
I see the torch we all must hold.
This is the mystery of the quotient
Upon us all a little rain
Must fall.

Just a little rain? Or is this a downpour? I don’t know. So many things are falling down, so many moments are being washed away. Then a crack in the clouds and a few rays of light. A smile, a hug, a touch, a kind word.

Through my storm I’ve encountered islands of tranquility, patches of sun. Now I see the land where I can build a new path, where nothing will be familiar but everything will be right. I will not crash on the shore. I will meet the sand, feel its warmth, print a trail and move on to the wide open space before me. This is where I will stand, this is where I will grow.


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.


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…

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.


Today my mom would’ve turned 57. Tomorrow my son will be 11. My birthday is on December 11th, and she died on the 12th.

She’s been on my mind alot lately. Of course because it’s that time of the year. Also because I’m going through a difficult time right now and I need her. And also, and mainly I think, because I’ve been thinking about leaving the man in my life. And I’m afraid of that. Because of how life was with her being a single parent. There are things I can accept about how things were, how she was, others I still can’t.

I’m not afraid of being alone, or not being able to provide for my children. I’m afraid I’ll turn into her. I don’t want my children to look at me the way I looked at my mother when I was a kid.


Limb by limb and tooth by tooth
Tearing up inside of me
Every day every hour
I wish that I was bulletproof

Seriously. It’s like a movie reel that’s been cut up in tiny pieces, mixed up and glued back together (yes like The Beatles). Then its played on fastforward, on a fucking loop. It hits me over and over, each image, of everything that’s bothering me. Nothing and everything. The neverending remembering. The nagging feeling of the should’ve, could’ve, would’ve. Smiles, tears, laughs, sobs, screams, silences. There is no sense to this, just shit being tossed up and drilling a hole in my brain.

Christmas coming up. Oh the dread. It has no meaning to me. I don’t even want to see my family. Not at Christmas. Not on any holiday for that matter. Why? There is no purpose for this. No one, not a single one of them attends church or expresses any religious affiliation of any kind. So what’s the point? And then they go “Come on, sign for us, you’re so good! Just one, please!” And then they go to my daughter “Come on play a little guitar for us, you’re so good! Just one, please!” And then they go to my son “Come on tell us a joke, you’re so funny! Just one, please!”. It’s Christmas, not circus, you fucking idiots

I wish I could include a few fictional movie clips on my reel. Reality sucks. Dread indeed.

One day at a time :s

I cringe everytime someone gives me that line. But these days I seem actually live this stupid saying. And I’m afraid it works. I wonder though… Am I loosing sight of what is really going on in my life? Isn’t it like avoiding my issues? It sure eases the pain of looking at what I’ve done and become. I’m not sure its the right thing to do.