15.5.10
Letting go
So many nights spent in dismay
Tormenting myself from within
I wish and will my pain away
But it stays on, a second skin
Always these images of what has
What could and what should
Of all the things that came to pass
My tears must have misunderstood
Unrestful nights, bitter sleep
I miss the days I was alive
My heart, alas, can only strive
Until then I silently weep
Tormenting myself from within
I wish and will my pain away
But it stays on, a second skin
Always these images of what has
What could and what should
Of all the things that came to pass
My tears must have misunderstood
Unrestful nights, bitter sleep
I miss the days I was alive
My heart, alas, can only strive
Until then I silently weep
27.4.10
7.4.10
4.4.10
20.2.10
My eyes!!!
Rendez-vous pour évaluation d'éligibilité à la chirurgie laser................check
Fonds disponibles..........check
Ne pas dormir avec mes verres de contact la prochaine semaine.........check (promis)
Ne pas porter mes verres 24 heures avant le rendez-vous..........all right, fine
[edit :maudit formatting épais]
Fonds disponibles..........check
Ne pas dormir avec mes verres de contact la prochaine semaine.........check (promis)
Ne pas porter mes verres 24 heures avant le rendez-vous..........all right, fine
[edit :maudit formatting épais]
26.1.10
Perle de Sagesse #1
Application concrète du concept de non-permutabilité
-Tu peux pisser dans la bolle, mais tu peux pas chier dans l'urinoir. -
-Tu peux pisser dans la bolle, mais tu peux pas chier dans l'urinoir. -
21.1.10
Oops I did it again...
Et voilà!
Une ride d'autobus, un flash de génie, 20 minutes de planification pour un super projet qui pourrait me donner une chance de m'impliquer au travail!
Et ensuite, pour le concrétiser, il faut....hmmm, à quoi je pensais moi? Ah oui! Il faut que je....oui? Oh, c'est un beau chandail ça! Tu pourrais [insérer joke niaiseuse ici] et blah blah blah....[15 minutes]
Bon, où en étais-je? Ah, c'est vrai....pourquoi je voulais faire ça donc? Ah pis d'la marde, c'est redevenu flou.
---
Journée typique.
L'histoire de ma vie : un potentiel illimitée, égalé seulement par mon aphasie.
Voici un encart qui se retrouvera dès demain dans tous les journaux du pays :
"Jeune homme vingtaine, en santé et astucieux recherche motivation de grande taille pour projets personnels. Doit être accompagnée de passion et constence. Contacte-moi vite, je t'attends avec impatience!"
C'est grave. J'ai pris une pause de 10 minutes pendant que j'écrivais ça (travail oblige) et j'ai failli ne pas le compléter.
Ouch.
Je veux un projet stimulant dans lequel je vais avoir envie de m'investir! Je veux me coucher un soir en pensant à un truc et être encore motivé à y penser le lendemain matin en me levant! Je veux m'exténuer à une tâche pendant des semaines entières! Je veux être fier de moi! Je veux qu'Isabelle pousse un cri aigü! Je veux vouloir ces mêmes trucs demain! Je veux écrire avec un carotte!
I wanna look good naked.
Une ride d'autobus, un flash de génie, 20 minutes de planification pour un super projet qui pourrait me donner une chance de m'impliquer au travail!
Et ensuite, pour le concrétiser, il faut....hmmm, à quoi je pensais moi? Ah oui! Il faut que je....oui? Oh, c'est un beau chandail ça! Tu pourrais [insérer joke niaiseuse ici] et blah blah blah....[15 minutes]
Bon, où en étais-je? Ah, c'est vrai....pourquoi je voulais faire ça donc? Ah pis d'la marde, c'est redevenu flou.
---
Journée typique.
L'histoire de ma vie : un potentiel illimitée, égalé seulement par mon aphasie.
Voici un encart qui se retrouvera dès demain dans tous les journaux du pays :
"Jeune homme vingtaine, en santé et astucieux recherche motivation de grande taille pour projets personnels. Doit être accompagnée de passion et constence. Contacte-moi vite, je t'attends avec impatience!"
C'est grave. J'ai pris une pause de 10 minutes pendant que j'écrivais ça (travail oblige) et j'ai failli ne pas le compléter.
Ouch.
Je veux un projet stimulant dans lequel je vais avoir envie de m'investir! Je veux me coucher un soir en pensant à un truc et être encore motivé à y penser le lendemain matin en me levant! Je veux m'exténuer à une tâche pendant des semaines entières! Je veux être fier de moi! Je veux qu'Isabelle pousse un cri aigü! Je veux vouloir ces mêmes trucs demain! Je veux écrire avec un carotte!
I wanna look good naked.
19.1.10
My Inner Monster (continued...)
It creeps beneath a charming smile,
Whispering beauty to your ear.
In mask and lie it found exile,
Hiding from Man its deepest fear.
With but a touch it can infect
The purest and gentlest kiss;
And shatter a world so perfect
No soul can mend in its abyss.
It has known secrets of the mind,
Lurking in bloody legacy
That Man today can only find
In dark and raving lunacy.
It has long lain dormant in dreams
Of hate and blood and bitterness.
I only can drown it in screams,
My inner monster is madness.
It lusts alas for praise untold
And for lips sealed and out of reach.
It has to fail, I dread the cold
That would befall us through that breach.
It is immortal in concept
Yet I believe in its demise.
Its longing I cannot accept
Lest you utter my name in cries.
When all your sympathy is lost
And our journey is long gone
My demon will claim me, he must
So I shall never be alone.
Silence! O sweet felicity,
Bear witness to the shackled beast
Raging in the veracity
Of this : it is of mine the least.
Whispering beauty to your ear.
In mask and lie it found exile,
Hiding from Man its deepest fear.
With but a touch it can infect
The purest and gentlest kiss;
And shatter a world so perfect
No soul can mend in its abyss.
It has known secrets of the mind,
Lurking in bloody legacy
That Man today can only find
In dark and raving lunacy.
It has long lain dormant in dreams
Of hate and blood and bitterness.
I only can drown it in screams,
My inner monster is madness.
It lusts alas for praise untold
And for lips sealed and out of reach.
It has to fail, I dread the cold
That would befall us through that breach.
It is immortal in concept
Yet I believe in its demise.
Its longing I cannot accept
Lest you utter my name in cries.
When all your sympathy is lost
And our journey is long gone
My demon will claim me, he must
So I shall never be alone.
Silence! O sweet felicity,
Bear witness to the shackled beast
Raging in the veracity
Of this : it is of mine the least.
18.1.10
My Inner Monster (in progress)
It creeps beneath a charming smile,
Whispering beauty to your ear.
In mask and lie it found exile,
Hiding from Man its deepest fear.
With but a touch it can infect
The purest and gentlest kiss;
And shatter a world so perfect
No soul can mend in its abyss.
it has long lain dormant in dreams
Of hate and blood and bitterness.
I only can drown it in screams,
My inner monster is madness.
It lusts alas for praise untold
And for lips sealed and out of reach.
It has to fail, I dread the cold
That would befall us through that breach.
Whispering beauty to your ear.
In mask and lie it found exile,
Hiding from Man its deepest fear.
With but a touch it can infect
The purest and gentlest kiss;
And shatter a world so perfect
No soul can mend in its abyss.
it has long lain dormant in dreams
Of hate and blood and bitterness.
I only can drown it in screams,
My inner monster is madness.
It lusts alas for praise untold
And for lips sealed and out of reach.
It has to fail, I dread the cold
That would befall us through that breach.
Blank Mind Syndrome
I love writing, yet it seems so impossible to find something worthy of the time it takes to write. Sometimes. I want to find my muse, my creative flow, my inspiration, my goddamn epiphany! I am empty of any substance, left only with decaying shells of what ifs, might haves and could have beens. I could quote the whole The Wretched song like that, for that is how I feel whenever I stare at a blank sheet of paper and can't think of any way to improve it. This life is stale. I have been having weird dreams lately, which I remember almost clearly, at least more than most of the dreams I've had in my life. They seem to bring me back in the past, as if I've left something of mine there and it's reaching out to me, wants me to go get it. Last night was particularly depressing. I dreamt of home. Home. Where I was born and raised. I dreamt it was destroyed, replaced by a hebertisme park. What does that tell me of me? I was crying in my dream, my soul was longing for something that can no longer be and I could only wake up on the verge of tears in the arms of my lover. I do not regret the choices I've made for they've led me to where I am, and I would want to be nowhere else. But I have lost something along the way. Something important which I've forgotten and now miss as surely as if it were a limb.
13.1.10
Wordplay
Walking erratically
Where feet are meant to thread
Rapidly the road beside me
Suddenly turns so sharply
It soon meets with my head
As the twin lights draw near
And all thoughts drift off-track
Wonder wins over fear
Eyes darting towards the rear
There lies the shell in the crack
01/13/2010
Where feet are meant to thread
Rapidly the road beside me
Suddenly turns so sharply
It soon meets with my head
As the twin lights draw near
And all thoughts drift off-track
Wonder wins over fear
Eyes darting towards the rear
There lies the shell in the crack
01/13/2010
12.1.10
Become the Sea
No soul saw it come by
Even mine was stricken blind.
A force, a will, a titan's wrath
Endless, quiet and never kind.
I gazed at it unknowingly
And rode it in my stride.
I felt it through my fingertips
As though it were my bride.
The deep woods by their silence
Heralded its coming;
Dear mother by her cries and pain
Ensured its summoning.
Now with undying sorrow
my lips beg your mercy.
I shall be with you no more
Once I become the sea.
01/12/2010
Even mine was stricken blind.
A force, a will, a titan's wrath
Endless, quiet and never kind.
I gazed at it unknowingly
And rode it in my stride.
I felt it through my fingertips
As though it were my bride.
The deep woods by their silence
Heralded its coming;
Dear mother by her cries and pain
Ensured its summoning.
Now with undying sorrow
my lips beg your mercy.
I shall be with you no more
Once I become the sea.
01/12/2010
copycats...
Ever heard of a copycat killer?
It's a killer that reproduces murders made by a notorious serial killer, for those that do not know.
Now having that in mind, why not create the concept of a serial rapist?
It could be a rapist that would rape the victims of a serial rapist all over again.
There's something to do with that shit...
More to come.
It's a killer that reproduces murders made by a notorious serial killer, for those that do not know.
Now having that in mind, why not create the concept of a serial rapist?
It could be a rapist that would rape the victims of a serial rapist all over again.
There's something to do with that shit...
More to come.
5.1.10
Dreams of Unknown Caddies
What happens when you watch Sports 30 and an episode of Dexter on the same night?
You dream weird dreams.
----------------------
It was september, for some reason, I had to go back to school. Figures : someone had not yet completed my diploma and even though my notes were there, I had to go back to second grade. it seemed like they rolled what year I would go back to with a die. They rolled second.
All right, so second grade it is. I must go with the flow as they say and that's my math class in front of me. As I come in, like in so many dreams, I know everyone but recognize no one. Whatever, I do recognize my teacher though. Alex Kovalev. Really. What the hell is he doing teaching maths when he should be doing millions somewhere else?
I listen to him talk - in French - and he is an eloquent and well versed man. He uses long terms, which I don't recall, and has a nice soothing voice. I guess I want to like him.
So be it.
The class goes well and it somehow shifts at his house. I'm not there but I see everything. I am in the mind of this girl : Kovalev's new girlfriend. He's not there and we're talking to his two adoptive children. He has a boy of about 10-11 and a little girl of about 8. They both radiate some kind of maturity and intelligence that are proper to foster children. Like they've been forced to look out for themselves for some time and thus have had maturity forced upon them.
They talk of their father like a hero, nay, like a god. HE does this and HE does that. Really weird but, hey, that's kids for you!
They then started to hint that he has moved a lot in the past years, moving from cities to others, which wasn't related to hockey at all. No words were told clearly but distinct images of Alex Kovalev perfoming several mass murders then appeared.
His kids explained he had a craving for murder (Dexter influence) and had to move from time to time simply because the body count was too high and suspicious. The last image of this dream was that of Alex Kovalev in Ottawa, with some kind of burning and crudely drawn background, out of this world's physics all around, upon a pile of bodies, blood gushing everywhere and a dramatic no-tune music filling the air.
I hope it means he'll sink the Senators.
I was at the mall and all the stores looked the same : a solitary island with no distinct product whatsoever. That damned new law is behind it all.
"No store of any kind shall be permitted to display products that may differenciate them from other stores."
Why should a law like that exist? My favorite stores have all gone bankrupt because of their specialized nature and the fact that they were not widely known to the public. Why buy a game at eBGames when you can buy the same thing at Wal-Mart or Archambault?
You dream weird dreams.
----------------------
It was september, for some reason, I had to go back to school. Figures : someone had not yet completed my diploma and even though my notes were there, I had to go back to second grade. it seemed like they rolled what year I would go back to with a die. They rolled second.
All right, so second grade it is. I must go with the flow as they say and that's my math class in front of me. As I come in, like in so many dreams, I know everyone but recognize no one. Whatever, I do recognize my teacher though. Alex Kovalev. Really. What the hell is he doing teaching maths when he should be doing millions somewhere else?
I listen to him talk - in French - and he is an eloquent and well versed man. He uses long terms, which I don't recall, and has a nice soothing voice. I guess I want to like him.
So be it.
The class goes well and it somehow shifts at his house. I'm not there but I see everything. I am in the mind of this girl : Kovalev's new girlfriend. He's not there and we're talking to his two adoptive children. He has a boy of about 10-11 and a little girl of about 8. They both radiate some kind of maturity and intelligence that are proper to foster children. Like they've been forced to look out for themselves for some time and thus have had maturity forced upon them.
They talk of their father like a hero, nay, like a god. HE does this and HE does that. Really weird but, hey, that's kids for you!
They then started to hint that he has moved a lot in the past years, moving from cities to others, which wasn't related to hockey at all. No words were told clearly but distinct images of Alex Kovalev perfoming several mass murders then appeared.
His kids explained he had a craving for murder (Dexter influence) and had to move from time to time simply because the body count was too high and suspicious. The last image of this dream was that of Alex Kovalev in Ottawa, with some kind of burning and crudely drawn background, out of this world's physics all around, upon a pile of bodies, blood gushing everywhere and a dramatic no-tune music filling the air.
I hope it means he'll sink the Senators.
I was at the mall and all the stores looked the same : a solitary island with no distinct product whatsoever. That damned new law is behind it all.
"No store of any kind shall be permitted to display products that may differenciate them from other stores."
Why should a law like that exist? My favorite stores have all gone bankrupt because of their specialized nature and the fact that they were not widely known to the public. Why buy a game at eBGames when you can buy the same thing at Wal-Mart or Archambault?
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