This weekend, I watched a Leonard Cohen concert on DVD. I didn't know that much about the artist he his before I started and I was pleasantly surprised. He is a great poet. Here is one poem he read and that really struck a chord with me.
A Thousand Kisses Deep
You came to me this morning
And you handled me like meat.
You´d have to live alone to know
How good that feels, how sweet.
My mirror twin, my next of kin,
I´d know you in my sleep.
And who but you would take me in
A thousand kisses deep?
I loved you when you opened
Like a lily to the heat.
I´m just another snowman
Standing in the rain and sleet,
Who loved you with his frozen love
His second-hand physique -
With all he is, and all he was
A thousand kisses deep.
All soaked in sex,
and pressed againstThe limits of the sea:
I saw there were no oceans left
For scavengers like me.
We made it to the forward deck
I blessed our remnant fleet -
And then consented to be wrecked
A thousand kisses deep.
I know you had to lie to me,
I know you had to cheat.
But the Means no longer guarantee
The Virtue in Deceit.
That truth is bent, that beauty spent,
That style is obsolete -
Ever since the Holy Spirit went
A thousand kisses deep.
(So what about this Inner Light
That´s boundless and unique?
I´m slouching through another night
A thousand kisses deep.)
I´m turning tricks; I´m getting fixed,
I´m back on Boogie Street.
I tried to quit the business -
Hey, I´m lazy and I´m weak.
But sometimes when the night is slow,
The wretched and the meek,
We gather up our hearts and go
A thousand kisses deep.
(And fragrant is the thought of you,
The file on you complete -
Except what we forgot to do
A thousand kisses deep.)
The ponies run, the girls are young,
The odds are there to beat.
You win a while, and then it´s done -
Your little winning streak.
And summoned now to deal
With your invincible defeat,
You live your life as if it´s real
A thousand kisses deep.
(I jammed with Diz and Dante -
I did not have their sweep -
But once or twice, they let me play
A thousand kisses deep.)
And I´m still working with the wine,
Still dancing cheek to cheek.
The band is playing "Auld Lang Syne" -
The heart will not retreat.
And maybe I had miles to drive,
And promises to keep -
You ditch it all to stay alive
A thousand kisses deep.
And now you are the Angel Death
And now the Paraclete;
And now you are the Savior's Breath
And now the Belsen heap.
No turning from the threat of love,
No transcendental leap -
As witnessed here in time and blood
A thousand kisses deep.
lundi 15 novembre 2010
lundi 1 novembre 2010
Salut son père
Salut tout le monde,
Je sais que je ne vous écris pas assez souvent. Pleins d'émotions se brassent au fond de moi et je trouverai peut-être le moyen un jour de vous raconter tout ça.
Pour le moment, allons-y pour du plus léger.
Tout récemment, j'ai décidé de changer de look. Après plusieurs années à afficher une barbiche que je trimmais mais gardait toujours, j'ai opté pour un visage sans poil. Quel choc! Il y a longtemps que je ne m'étais pas vu le visage de cette façon. C'est fou ce qu'un peu de poil peut changer l'allure d'une personne. Après le fait, j'ai vu mon père dans mon miroir...La ressemblance est encore plus frappante. Faudra s'en parler plus tard de ça.
Voici des photos avant et après
mercredi 6 octobre 2010
Un peu de poésie
Malgré le fait que mon blog se nomme PoeticClown, je n'ai pas publié beaucoup de poésie ici. Remédions à ça immédiatement. Voici un texte que j'ai écrit très rapidement hier soir. L'inspiration se passe ainsi pour moi. Les mots arrivent rapidement dans ma tête et déboulent ensuite sur papier.
Au féminin (en chaleur)
La vie
La folie
La détresse
La tendresse
La délivrance
La déchéance
L'ivresse
est une femme en chaleur
Qui vous montre ses fesses
et vous verse ses douceurs.
L'ébriété
est une tentatrice chaude
Dont la chatte griffée
ne jamais s'échaude
La mort
est une sorcière en veille
Qui nous attend aux abords
D'une nuit sans réveil
La déchéance
La délivrance
La tendresse
La détresse
La folie
La ...
Au féminin (en chaleur)
La vie
La folie
La détresse
La tendresse
La délivrance
La déchéance
L'ivresse
est une femme en chaleur
Qui vous montre ses fesses
et vous verse ses douceurs.
L'ébriété
est une tentatrice chaude
Dont la chatte griffée
ne jamais s'échaude
La mort
est une sorcière en veille
Qui nous attend aux abords
D'une nuit sans réveil
La déchéance
La délivrance
La tendresse
La détresse
La folie
La ...
jeudi 23 septembre 2010
Free-floating hostility 2
Once again, it is time for me to share some major psychotic hatreds, George Carlin style. No rhyme or reason, just a list of items that irritate me, annoy me or piss me off. Here we go:
Spittoons, please: Am I the only one who don’t understand these guys who feel the urge to spit on the ground while walking around town? Is this supposed to be a sign of virility or something? I don’t get it. Hey guys, keep your loogies for yourselves or for the privacy of your own home. And, watch for the gushes of wind...
You ain’t fat: What is it with beautiful girls who consider themselves fat when they are very far from it? I am not talking of eating disorders here. They clearly eat, but they complain constantly about the need to exercise more and eat less to lose an ass they don’t have in the first place. "Look, dear, you should get that thing slapped a few times for calling it fat when it ain’t. You are beautiful, quite the belly-aching".
Pardon my eyes: I have a beef with these women who dress provocatively and then complain that you don’t look them in the eyes. Look, honey, if you flaunt it, I will look. I am not a psycho and I would not touch without permission. But, god damn it, I will look. If I were to walk around town with my balls hanging out, not too many of you would look at my bald spot.
Pick one: I truly hate road construction. I understand it is necessary, but why does the city of Fredericton feel the need to fix every street at the same time, making the ride back home at night a pain in my fat ass. Hey, pick a street, stick to it, and - oh I don’t know - finish it before moving on to another one!
Spittoons, please: Am I the only one who don’t understand these guys who feel the urge to spit on the ground while walking around town? Is this supposed to be a sign of virility or something? I don’t get it. Hey guys, keep your loogies for yourselves or for the privacy of your own home. And, watch for the gushes of wind...
You ain’t fat: What is it with beautiful girls who consider themselves fat when they are very far from it? I am not talking of eating disorders here. They clearly eat, but they complain constantly about the need to exercise more and eat less to lose an ass they don’t have in the first place. "Look, dear, you should get that thing slapped a few times for calling it fat when it ain’t. You are beautiful, quite the belly-aching".
Pardon my eyes: I have a beef with these women who dress provocatively and then complain that you don’t look them in the eyes. Look, honey, if you flaunt it, I will look. I am not a psycho and I would not touch without permission. But, god damn it, I will look. If I were to walk around town with my balls hanging out, not too many of you would look at my bald spot.
Pick one: I truly hate road construction. I understand it is necessary, but why does the city of Fredericton feel the need to fix every street at the same time, making the ride back home at night a pain in my fat ass. Hey, pick a street, stick to it, and - oh I don’t know - finish it before moving on to another one!
lundi 20 septembre 2010
Estranged
Hello, folks. I haven’t been around here in a while. Between work, vacationing in Montreal and Ottawa (it was fun seeing friends and family), and a little bit of leisure, I did not take much time to organize my thoughts and put them down here. I will try to get to it more often in the weeks to come.
Last weekend, I watched the movie "Taxi Driver" once again, after buying it on DVD. I have seen it a few times before and I will probably see it time and time again until I kick the proverbial bucket down the line. It remains one of my favourite films of all time.
This time around, though, different thoughts have occurred to me while I was watching. It is kind of weird, but I started feeling some compassion for the character played by Robert De Niro, Travis Bickle. It was as if I could see a little of myself in his feeling of alienation from society. Then, it brought me back to my reading of Albert Camus’ book, L’Étranger (The Stranger),a book with a main character sharing that same feeling of being estranged from the rest of the world.
Wether it is with family, co-workers or complete strangers, I often feel alone in my little world. I start feeling like nobody really cares anyways and I pull back; I go back into my thoughts and share as little as possible about it. Even within my own family, I sometimes feel like I don’t belong there, like I am at odds with everyone else, like I don’t relate, like they don’t understand. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family very much, I just feel like I am too different. My wife fits much better within their group. She is such a sociable person anyways, she is outwardly, outspoken and extroverted. Not me. With her family? Forget about it. I feel even more like an alien. I love them, I like to think they love me...I am just on a different beat. At work, it is pretty much the same. I do not fit within the group, I do not blend in.
Now, unlike Travis Bickle and unlike the main character in Camus’ book, I am not a violent person. In moments of frustration, certain images can pop up in my head. But, I would never act upon it. Sometimes, I could be talking to someone I don’t particularly like or someone who bores me. I look like I am listening intently, but, in my head, I am thinking stuff like: From here, I could punch that person’s lights out right now. I would never do it, I don’t even say anything nasty. After all, as alienated as I may feel from the rest of the world, I don’t like hurting other people or hurting their feelings. So, I just breathe and calm myself down.
That being said, you all may think I am weird. So be it. I feel so alone sometimes in my thoughts, but I don’t feel like living a lie. So, here it is: a little part of me, an outsider in this world where we would like everyone to fit in nicely, like little pieces in a puzzle. I am sorry to say I am a bizarrely shaped piece who only fits in his wife’s heart. She loves me and saves me daily, and that is all that matters to me. She thinks I am beautiful. I don’t see it for myself, but who am I to argue anyways. She is the beholder, I will do my best to find that beauty of mine in her eyes and go on with my life.
Cheers and later, folks.
Last weekend, I watched the movie "Taxi Driver" once again, after buying it on DVD. I have seen it a few times before and I will probably see it time and time again until I kick the proverbial bucket down the line. It remains one of my favourite films of all time.
This time around, though, different thoughts have occurred to me while I was watching. It is kind of weird, but I started feeling some compassion for the character played by Robert De Niro, Travis Bickle. It was as if I could see a little of myself in his feeling of alienation from society. Then, it brought me back to my reading of Albert Camus’ book, L’Étranger (The Stranger),a book with a main character sharing that same feeling of being estranged from the rest of the world.
Wether it is with family, co-workers or complete strangers, I often feel alone in my little world. I start feeling like nobody really cares anyways and I pull back; I go back into my thoughts and share as little as possible about it. Even within my own family, I sometimes feel like I don’t belong there, like I am at odds with everyone else, like I don’t relate, like they don’t understand. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family very much, I just feel like I am too different. My wife fits much better within their group. She is such a sociable person anyways, she is outwardly, outspoken and extroverted. Not me. With her family? Forget about it. I feel even more like an alien. I love them, I like to think they love me...I am just on a different beat. At work, it is pretty much the same. I do not fit within the group, I do not blend in.
Now, unlike Travis Bickle and unlike the main character in Camus’ book, I am not a violent person. In moments of frustration, certain images can pop up in my head. But, I would never act upon it. Sometimes, I could be talking to someone I don’t particularly like or someone who bores me. I look like I am listening intently, but, in my head, I am thinking stuff like: From here, I could punch that person’s lights out right now. I would never do it, I don’t even say anything nasty. After all, as alienated as I may feel from the rest of the world, I don’t like hurting other people or hurting their feelings. So, I just breathe and calm myself down.
That being said, you all may think I am weird. So be it. I feel so alone sometimes in my thoughts, but I don’t feel like living a lie. So, here it is: a little part of me, an outsider in this world where we would like everyone to fit in nicely, like little pieces in a puzzle. I am sorry to say I am a bizarrely shaped piece who only fits in his wife’s heart. She loves me and saves me daily, and that is all that matters to me. She thinks I am beautiful. I don’t see it for myself, but who am I to argue anyways. She is the beholder, I will do my best to find that beauty of mine in her eyes and go on with my life.
Cheers and later, folks.
mercredi 25 août 2010
Vengeance
Hier soir, j’ai visionné le film québécois "Les sept jours du Talion". Quel film intense. Voici un bref synopsis : La vie des Hamel se retrouve bouleversée un jour lorsque leur fille de 8 ans est violée et tuée. Un homme est arrêté, mais M. Hamel a d’autres plans pour l’accusé. Il entreprend de kidnapper le présumé tueur et de le torturer pendant sept jours.
Vous l’aurez deviné, ce n’est pas un film très jojo. Cela dit, c’est tellement bien joué, surtout de la part de Claude Legault, qui joue le père qui se sent coupable et croit en devoir une à sa fille. On sent très bien sa peine et sa rage dans tout ça, on en vient même presque à l’appuyer dans sa démarche à un moment donné.
C’est le genre de film qui suscite toujours des questions dans ma tête. Que ferais-je dans une situation pareille. Je ne veux même pas imaginer ce que ce serait de perdre ma femme ainsi ou bien les enfants que j’aurai peut-être un jour. Je ne peux pas dire de façon définitive quelle serait ma réaction, on ne peut le savoir pour sûr sans l’avoir vécu. Cela dit, il ne fait aucun doute dans mon esprit que je pourrais facilement perdre la tête. Je ne sais pas si j’irais jusqu’à torturer le criminel pendant sept jours, mais cette personne serait définitivement en danger si je lui mettais la main au collet dans cet état d’esprit. Je ne suis même pas parent, et je ressens déjà cette soif de vengeance à l’idée qu’on puisse faire quelque chose comme ça un enfant. La pédophilie est un geste que je ne pourrai jamais pardonner.
Les gens ayant de fortes croyances religieuses diront : "two wrongs don’t make a right". D’autres diront qu’ils ne croient pas dans la violence, peu importe le contexte. Pour ma part, les choses ne sont pas aussi définitives. Ceux que j’aime sont plus précieux pour moi que ma propre existence. Compte tenu de cela, je pourrais facilement devenir quelqu’un qui n’a plus rien à perdre. Mais, bon, j’aimerais mieux ne jamais avoir à le vivre.
Selon moi, "Les sept jours du Talion" est un film à voir, pour ceux qui ont le coeur solide. Les scènes de torture sont dures, parfois presque insoutenables. Toutefois, ce n’est pas gratuit, c’est dans le contexte. Le silence a une place importante dans ce film, comme quoi tout disparaît autour de nous quand des drames surviennent. Le questionnement quant à la ligne à tracer entre le bien et le mal est intéressant et peut susciter des discussions passionnées.
Si vous avez vu le film, vous pouvez me laisser vos commentaires. Si vous ne l’avez pas vu mais que vous avez une opinion sur le sujet, n’hésitez pas non plus.
Vous l’aurez deviné, ce n’est pas un film très jojo. Cela dit, c’est tellement bien joué, surtout de la part de Claude Legault, qui joue le père qui se sent coupable et croit en devoir une à sa fille. On sent très bien sa peine et sa rage dans tout ça, on en vient même presque à l’appuyer dans sa démarche à un moment donné.
C’est le genre de film qui suscite toujours des questions dans ma tête. Que ferais-je dans une situation pareille. Je ne veux même pas imaginer ce que ce serait de perdre ma femme ainsi ou bien les enfants que j’aurai peut-être un jour. Je ne peux pas dire de façon définitive quelle serait ma réaction, on ne peut le savoir pour sûr sans l’avoir vécu. Cela dit, il ne fait aucun doute dans mon esprit que je pourrais facilement perdre la tête. Je ne sais pas si j’irais jusqu’à torturer le criminel pendant sept jours, mais cette personne serait définitivement en danger si je lui mettais la main au collet dans cet état d’esprit. Je ne suis même pas parent, et je ressens déjà cette soif de vengeance à l’idée qu’on puisse faire quelque chose comme ça un enfant. La pédophilie est un geste que je ne pourrai jamais pardonner.
Les gens ayant de fortes croyances religieuses diront : "two wrongs don’t make a right". D’autres diront qu’ils ne croient pas dans la violence, peu importe le contexte. Pour ma part, les choses ne sont pas aussi définitives. Ceux que j’aime sont plus précieux pour moi que ma propre existence. Compte tenu de cela, je pourrais facilement devenir quelqu’un qui n’a plus rien à perdre. Mais, bon, j’aimerais mieux ne jamais avoir à le vivre.
Selon moi, "Les sept jours du Talion" est un film à voir, pour ceux qui ont le coeur solide. Les scènes de torture sont dures, parfois presque insoutenables. Toutefois, ce n’est pas gratuit, c’est dans le contexte. Le silence a une place importante dans ce film, comme quoi tout disparaît autour de nous quand des drames surviennent. Le questionnement quant à la ligne à tracer entre le bien et le mal est intéressant et peut susciter des discussions passionnées.
Si vous avez vu le film, vous pouvez me laisser vos commentaires. Si vous ne l’avez pas vu mais que vous avez une opinion sur le sujet, n’hésitez pas non plus.
mardi 3 août 2010
Free-floating hostilities 1
I will take a page out of the great George Carlin’s book today and offer you some free-floating hostilities. No rhyme or reason, no line of thought to guide it, just a list of things that bother me or piss me off. Just like my idol George Carlin, I don’t have pet peeves: I have major psychotic hatreds.
Hopefully, you folks with relate with at least some of these.
The inseparable love-birds: I’m talking about those who just can’t keep their hands off each other in public. Those lip-smacking sounds and continuous sweet-nothings being whispered can be a total annoyance. If you’re not willing to put on a full show by doing the nasty in front of everyone, keep it for the privacy of your own home. Half-ass shows, I don’t care for. Go ahead and make it really entertaining, or leave me out of it!
Matching t-shirts: Ah yes, those cute ageing couple (no young couple would dare do such a thing) walking around with matching t-shirts. I saw this American couple in Quebec city last weekend. He had a black and white t-shirt saying: "I’m never right". She had a similar one that read: "He sho’ ain’t". These pathetic morons are cheesy beyond belief and should be told so. Idiots! At least, be witty about the whole thing, or it is pointless!
Bare-chested old men: You have all seen them. Those 65 year old men biking around town with only shorts on. Orange-coloured tans, white chest hairs, flabby skin. Put a shirt on, damnit! Young women, on the other hand, take yours off. You have something good to show, do so!
Pet worshippers: Those people who think their pets are more important than other human being and who want to impose their love of animals unto others. Look, I walk erect (well, most of the time ;P) and I contribute to society. I like to think I take precedence on any pet. And cute pet stories ain’t so cute. Leave me out of it.
More to come. I will try to make this a regular part of my blogging, as it is a good way to get things off your chest. Mine is not bared, thank god, but it is lighter now thanks.
Hopefully, you folks with relate with at least some of these.
The inseparable love-birds: I’m talking about those who just can’t keep their hands off each other in public. Those lip-smacking sounds and continuous sweet-nothings being whispered can be a total annoyance. If you’re not willing to put on a full show by doing the nasty in front of everyone, keep it for the privacy of your own home. Half-ass shows, I don’t care for. Go ahead and make it really entertaining, or leave me out of it!
Matching t-shirts: Ah yes, those cute ageing couple (no young couple would dare do such a thing) walking around with matching t-shirts. I saw this American couple in Quebec city last weekend. He had a black and white t-shirt saying: "I’m never right". She had a similar one that read: "He sho’ ain’t". These pathetic morons are cheesy beyond belief and should be told so. Idiots! At least, be witty about the whole thing, or it is pointless!
Bare-chested old men: You have all seen them. Those 65 year old men biking around town with only shorts on. Orange-coloured tans, white chest hairs, flabby skin. Put a shirt on, damnit! Young women, on the other hand, take yours off. You have something good to show, do so!
Pet worshippers: Those people who think their pets are more important than other human being and who want to impose their love of animals unto others. Look, I walk erect (well, most of the time ;P) and I contribute to society. I like to think I take precedence on any pet. And cute pet stories ain’t so cute. Leave me out of it.
More to come. I will try to make this a regular part of my blogging, as it is a good way to get things off your chest. Mine is not bared, thank god, but it is lighter now thanks.
jeudi 22 juillet 2010
Step 2...
Do not let the title of this post worry you, folks, I am not about to break into song and start paying tribute to The New Kids on the Block by giving my own rendition of "Step by Step". I have not sunk that low yet in the depths of insanity.
This is a small post to give my peeps an update on my situation. As you all know by now, if you have been reading my blog, I am trying to attain a certain proper balance in my consumption habits. Wether it is food or alcohol, I want to be able, in the short term, to be more reasonable. I will not quit drinking altogether and discover Jesus in the process, that would not be me, but I want to have healthier habits, that is for certain.
Last weekend, I moved on to the second step of my three steps program. Forget the twelve steps process, this thing is adapted for me. All through last weekend, there were opportunities to have a few drinks, and I took them. But, each time, I put on the breaks early and stopped before even getting inebriated.
I am quite proud of myself. I know that a lot of people in my entourage thought that the absolute sobriety thing would last longer than a month, but I felt the effect it had on me wasn’t what I needed at this time. I always felt like I was punishing myself by refusing even the slightest of contact with my good old friend. I felt that I needed to trust myself one more time before absolutely giving up drinking.
So, on these occasions, over the weekend, I took a small dip. I am quite proud of the fact that I was able to stop before getting drunk. It is the same feeling I get when I pull away from the table before getting that feeling of fullness in my stomach. We all know that, by the time we feel full, we have eaten too much food. There was more booze available, and I didn’t partake. I was offered more and said no. That’s a huge step for a guy who wouldn’t stop until passing out, sometimes.
Considering the success I have had with the second step, I am moving on to the third and final one. The trick now is to take a little dip once in a while, but not too often. I will spend the next two weekend having fun and visiting stuff with my lovely wife. Those are times when I usually don’t indulge in the spirits, and I will make sure it stays that way. Then, I’ll try to keep it for special occasions, not whenever I feel like it. It also goes without saying that the amounts consumed each time will have to be reasonable.
So, I am continuing on this journey to a healthier me. Have a thought for me, my friends. It won’t be easy, but I want to do it. It has to work, or I’ll have to quit it all cold turkey, and that would suck. So, cheers, peeps, and have a good day!
This is a small post to give my peeps an update on my situation. As you all know by now, if you have been reading my blog, I am trying to attain a certain proper balance in my consumption habits. Wether it is food or alcohol, I want to be able, in the short term, to be more reasonable. I will not quit drinking altogether and discover Jesus in the process, that would not be me, but I want to have healthier habits, that is for certain.
Last weekend, I moved on to the second step of my three steps program. Forget the twelve steps process, this thing is adapted for me. All through last weekend, there were opportunities to have a few drinks, and I took them. But, each time, I put on the breaks early and stopped before even getting inebriated.
I am quite proud of myself. I know that a lot of people in my entourage thought that the absolute sobriety thing would last longer than a month, but I felt the effect it had on me wasn’t what I needed at this time. I always felt like I was punishing myself by refusing even the slightest of contact with my good old friend. I felt that I needed to trust myself one more time before absolutely giving up drinking.
So, on these occasions, over the weekend, I took a small dip. I am quite proud of the fact that I was able to stop before getting drunk. It is the same feeling I get when I pull away from the table before getting that feeling of fullness in my stomach. We all know that, by the time we feel full, we have eaten too much food. There was more booze available, and I didn’t partake. I was offered more and said no. That’s a huge step for a guy who wouldn’t stop until passing out, sometimes.
Considering the success I have had with the second step, I am moving on to the third and final one. The trick now is to take a little dip once in a while, but not too often. I will spend the next two weekend having fun and visiting stuff with my lovely wife. Those are times when I usually don’t indulge in the spirits, and I will make sure it stays that way. Then, I’ll try to keep it for special occasions, not whenever I feel like it. It also goes without saying that the amounts consumed each time will have to be reasonable.
So, I am continuing on this journey to a healthier me. Have a thought for me, my friends. It won’t be easy, but I want to do it. It has to work, or I’ll have to quit it all cold turkey, and that would suck. So, cheers, peeps, and have a good day!
dimanche 11 juillet 2010
28 days later
I haven’t updated my blog very much lately; I hope you people that were following me before didn’t totally forget about this site by now. To be honest, I don’t feel inspired to do very much these days. I thought quitting alcohol for a while would give me a boost in energy, but it has had the opposite effect. Even on the weekends, by the time midnight comes around, my body and my spirit gives up on me and asks for sleep. I think my whole system finds my new lifestyle so boring, so it just gives up and wants to go to bed.
Yes, it has been 28 days since I had my last drink. I have had a few drinking hiatus over the last few years, but this one has been the hardest ever. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to put all of this pressure on myself by telling everybody around me I was doing it. My intentions were good, I wanted to tough it out. After 28 days, the main thought in my head still is: when will I stop putting myself through this?
I still want to hang on to this sobriety thing, at least for a while. I want to clean out my system and give myself a head start with the weight loss thing. I will drink eventually; I just want to be able to do it responsibly.
I sincerely thought that I wouldn’t miss it that much. I was told that, after 28 days, it would all get better. It is not. I do not want to drink all the time, but, in certain occasions, it sucks to have to say: Nah, I don’t drink. There has to be a place right in between binging and staying absolutely sober. I want to find that place. Have a few drinks in good company, on the right occasions, not emptying bottles every weekend. That is something I want to accomplish for myself. I know I can do it. I will do it.
As for now, I will give myself some more time before I touch it again. I’ll keep you posted on this and other subjects.
Yes, it has been 28 days since I had my last drink. I have had a few drinking hiatus over the last few years, but this one has been the hardest ever. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to put all of this pressure on myself by telling everybody around me I was doing it. My intentions were good, I wanted to tough it out. After 28 days, the main thought in my head still is: when will I stop putting myself through this?
I still want to hang on to this sobriety thing, at least for a while. I want to clean out my system and give myself a head start with the weight loss thing. I will drink eventually; I just want to be able to do it responsibly.
I sincerely thought that I wouldn’t miss it that much. I was told that, after 28 days, it would all get better. It is not. I do not want to drink all the time, but, in certain occasions, it sucks to have to say: Nah, I don’t drink. There has to be a place right in between binging and staying absolutely sober. I want to find that place. Have a few drinks in good company, on the right occasions, not emptying bottles every weekend. That is something I want to accomplish for myself. I know I can do it. I will do it.
As for now, I will give myself some more time before I touch it again. I’ll keep you posted on this and other subjects.
dimanche 20 juin 2010
La fête des pères
Ce serait mentir que de vous dire que la fête des pères 2010 n’a pas un goût amer pour moi. J’étais convaincu que, à ce moment-ci de ma vie, je serai l’heureux papa de mon ange d’Ukraine, Il semble que la vie ne l’a pas voulu ainsi, et j’essaie tant bien que mal de faire le deuil de tout ça.
Cela dit, je veux profiter de l’occasion aujourd’hui pour saluer une personne extrêmement spéciale dans ma vie. Si jamais je devais devenir père un jour, j’espère que je serai à la hauteur du père que j’ai.
Mon père et moi nous ressemblons beaucoup physiquement. Sa paternité ne peut être mise en doute dans ce cas-ci. Je partage aussi avec lui un grand sens de l’humour, l’amour des femmes et le goût pour la bonne bouffe.
Mais, nous avons aussi nos grandes différences. Mon père est un homme fort, solide et respecté; un homme d’affaires, un homme de tête. Il est un homme de convictions, convaincu et convaincant. Je suis un homme de mots et de cœur. Un homme d’incertitude et de doute. Je suis un artiste dans l’âme, avec tout ce que cela peut comporter.
Cela dit, nous nous rejoignons au milieu. Je respecte et j’aime mon père. Il m’a inculqué le respect, la générosité et l’amour, et je lui suis reconnaissant d’avoir été un aussi bon père. C’est un homme qui donnerait sa chemise pour aider son prochain. Avec le temps, il est aussi devenu un ami et un allié, ce que j’apprécie grandement aussi. Si jamais je devenais un jour la moitié de l’homme qu’il est, je saurai alors que j’aurai accompli de grandes choses.
Bonne fête des pères papa! Bonne fête à tous ceux qui ont la chance d’être père et une pensée pour tous ceux qui, comme moi, rêvent de le devenir.
Cela dit, je veux profiter de l’occasion aujourd’hui pour saluer une personne extrêmement spéciale dans ma vie. Si jamais je devais devenir père un jour, j’espère que je serai à la hauteur du père que j’ai.
Mon père et moi nous ressemblons beaucoup physiquement. Sa paternité ne peut être mise en doute dans ce cas-ci. Je partage aussi avec lui un grand sens de l’humour, l’amour des femmes et le goût pour la bonne bouffe.
Mais, nous avons aussi nos grandes différences. Mon père est un homme fort, solide et respecté; un homme d’affaires, un homme de tête. Il est un homme de convictions, convaincu et convaincant. Je suis un homme de mots et de cœur. Un homme d’incertitude et de doute. Je suis un artiste dans l’âme, avec tout ce que cela peut comporter.
Cela dit, nous nous rejoignons au milieu. Je respecte et j’aime mon père. Il m’a inculqué le respect, la générosité et l’amour, et je lui suis reconnaissant d’avoir été un aussi bon père. C’est un homme qui donnerait sa chemise pour aider son prochain. Avec le temps, il est aussi devenu un ami et un allié, ce que j’apprécie grandement aussi. Si jamais je devenais un jour la moitié de l’homme qu’il est, je saurai alors que j’aurai accompli de grandes choses.
Bonne fête des pères papa! Bonne fête à tous ceux qui ont la chance d’être père et une pensée pour tous ceux qui, comme moi, rêvent de le devenir.
samedi 12 juin 2010
Goodbye old friend
As I sit alone at home on this Saturday afternoon of June 2010, I now realize that it is definitely time for me to turn a new page in my life, to start a new chapter so to speak. The idea has been forming slowly in my mind and in my soul for the last week or so, but I now know for sure that it is time for me to say goodbye to a very old friend of mine.
Dear old friend, we do go back a long way. You have been in my life, in one form or another, for the past 15 years. I have come to you in the past for various reasons. Comfort, relaxation, numbness, pleasure...and sometimes, it was simply a social occasion where you did just fit right in. It has been great. You haven’t been as rough on me as you have been on so many others. We’ve had tons of laughter, not too many tears.
Unfortunately, as of late, I have come to realize that I rely on you too much to get me through tough times. You have become somewhat of a crutch. I don’t want that. I don’t want to become a total shell of my former self. And, I must say, your benefits have kind of waned. All you seem to leave behind you when you leave now are bad unhealthy feelings.
So, today, it seems apparent to me that we must part ways. Our paths might cross again in the future, and hopefully I will be a better man then, one that will be able to let you into my life on occasion and not go overboard. For now, I will stay away and build myself back up. It is clear to me that you can’t be part of my road to recovery. We may see each other on the outside, and I am OK with that. Just know that I can be strong and I will.
Today, I can still your presence in my home. It is slowly fading though. And, when this day turns into night, and I go to sleep, I know that tomorrow will me that first day of the rest of my life. One more evening together, and then I’ll show you to the door.
So, goodbye old friend, goodbye to you moist mistress. Goodbye to you, sweet bottle.
Dear old friend, we do go back a long way. You have been in my life, in one form or another, for the past 15 years. I have come to you in the past for various reasons. Comfort, relaxation, numbness, pleasure...and sometimes, it was simply a social occasion where you did just fit right in. It has been great. You haven’t been as rough on me as you have been on so many others. We’ve had tons of laughter, not too many tears.
Unfortunately, as of late, I have come to realize that I rely on you too much to get me through tough times. You have become somewhat of a crutch. I don’t want that. I don’t want to become a total shell of my former self. And, I must say, your benefits have kind of waned. All you seem to leave behind you when you leave now are bad unhealthy feelings.
So, today, it seems apparent to me that we must part ways. Our paths might cross again in the future, and hopefully I will be a better man then, one that will be able to let you into my life on occasion and not go overboard. For now, I will stay away and build myself back up. It is clear to me that you can’t be part of my road to recovery. We may see each other on the outside, and I am OK with that. Just know that I can be strong and I will.
Today, I can still your presence in my home. It is slowly fading though. And, when this day turns into night, and I go to sleep, I know that tomorrow will me that first day of the rest of my life. One more evening together, and then I’ll show you to the door.
So, goodbye old friend, goodbye to you moist mistress. Goodbye to you, sweet bottle.
dimanche 30 mai 2010
La paternité
En lisant le blogue de ma femme, je me suis dit qu’il serait peut-être temps pour moi aussi d’aborder un certain sujet difficile : le fait que je n’ai pas d’enfant et que j’en n’aurai peut-être jamais.
Au fil du temps, j’ai vécu toute cette affaire plus intérieurement. Ma femme, de par sa nature plus volubile que la mienne, a beaucoup verbalisé ses émotions par rapport à tout cela. Son approche était probablement la meilleure à bien y penser. De mon bord, j’ai beaucoup ruminé des sentiments divers, pas toujours très jolis.
Pendant tellement longtemps, je n’ai pas voulu d’enfant. Je craignais toujours l’idée de voir ma progéniture en face. Voir un enfant qui me ressemble vivre ce que j’ai vécu, voilà une idée qui ne me plaisant pas du tout. De plus, je ne me pensais pas tellement apte à devenir père. Je ne suis pas un leader, je ne voulais pas manquer mon coup.
Quand Chantal est entrée dans ma vie, elle a tôt fait de me parler de son désir d’adopter un enfant. C’était clair dans sa tête, elle ne voulait pas être enceinte. Je n’y voyais pas de problème et je n’en vois pas encore aujourd’hui. L’idée de l’adoption était donc semée dans mon esprit, il ne me restait qu’à me faire une idée plus finale sur le sujet. Un jour, il m’est apparu clair que je voulais être papa : je voulais donner le meilleur de moi-même, aux côtés de ma femme, pour élever un enfant dans l’amour.
J’ai annoncé ma décision à ma femme lors d’un souper au resto. Elle a été emballée et le projet d’adoption en Ukraine a pris son envol au cours des mois qui ont suivi. Ma femme a parlé de ce processus sur un autre blogue, donc je ne reviendrai pas sur le sujet.
Quand notre projet d’adoption en Ukraine est mort, nous l’avons pris très dur. Ma femme l’a vécu très extérieurement. Moi, c’était le contraire. Je n’ai rien dit. J’ai tenté d’être là pour ma femme, du mieux que j’ai pu. J’espère avoir été à la hauteur, et j’essaie encore de l’être. Ma femme est réellement ce que j’ai de plus précieux, et je partage sa peine à part entière. Cet ange d’Ukraine était notre rêve commun, ce sur quoi on avait mis toutes nos énergies.
Je l’ai vraiment vécu comme une grossesse qui se termine en fausse couche. Dans ces cas-là, on oublie souvent le papa. Bien souvent, celui-ci n’extériorise peut-être pas assez. C’était le cas avec moi. J’ai pleuré mon ange perdu en silence. Le soir, après que ma femme trouvait le sommeil, je me voyais souvent incapable de dormir, pris dans mes pensées. Les fins de semaine, j’en venais à m’engourdir avec la bouffe et l’alcool pour oublier tout cela. Je m’étais tellement dit que la paternité ferait de moi un meilleur homme. Ce serait terminé cette vie d’excès. Devant ce rêve brisé, c’est comme si je prenais ma revanche en fonçant à toute vitesse vers le pôle opposé à mes bonnes intentions.
Je n’en suis pas fier, ce n’est franchement pas la solution. Mais, à très court terme, l’ivresse engourdissait la douleur. Pourtant, ma vie était loin d’être vide. J’ai une femme qui m’aime et que j’aime plus que tout. J’ai des amis et une famille élargie qui sont là pour moi. Cela dit, cet ange envolé que je ne prendrais jamais dans mes bras ne sortait pas de ma tête et de mon cœur. Un vide avait été créé en moi, et je me demandais comment le combler.
Il y avait un autre sentiment que je ressentais, et je me sentais coupable de me sentir ainsi. Plusieurs personnes dans mon entourage devenaient parents. Malgré le fait que j’étais content pour eux, j’étais aussi envieux. Je trouve ça tellement laid comme sentiment, mais je ne pouvais pas le retenir pleinement. Je les jalousais en silence.
Maintenant, il y a le dossier d’adoption au Nouveau-Brunswick, mais il est fort probable que cela ne mènera à rien, compte tenu des circonstances. Suis-je en paix avec tout cela? Non. Tout comme ma femme, plein de questions et de commentaires d’autrui me ramènent à ces pensées qui me font mal. J’essaie de mon mieux de combler ce vide en moi, de la façon la plus constructive possible. J’ai ma femme à mes côtés, l’amour de ma vie. Cet amour est fort et solide. On s’épaule l’un et l’autre de notre mieux dans nos combats respectifs et commun. On gâte les enfants des autres. Ce n’est pas la même chose, mais la présence de n’importe quel enfant enrichit une vie. Pour le reste, j’essaie de faire mon deuil. Qui vivra verra…
Au fil du temps, j’ai vécu toute cette affaire plus intérieurement. Ma femme, de par sa nature plus volubile que la mienne, a beaucoup verbalisé ses émotions par rapport à tout cela. Son approche était probablement la meilleure à bien y penser. De mon bord, j’ai beaucoup ruminé des sentiments divers, pas toujours très jolis.
Pendant tellement longtemps, je n’ai pas voulu d’enfant. Je craignais toujours l’idée de voir ma progéniture en face. Voir un enfant qui me ressemble vivre ce que j’ai vécu, voilà une idée qui ne me plaisant pas du tout. De plus, je ne me pensais pas tellement apte à devenir père. Je ne suis pas un leader, je ne voulais pas manquer mon coup.
Quand Chantal est entrée dans ma vie, elle a tôt fait de me parler de son désir d’adopter un enfant. C’était clair dans sa tête, elle ne voulait pas être enceinte. Je n’y voyais pas de problème et je n’en vois pas encore aujourd’hui. L’idée de l’adoption était donc semée dans mon esprit, il ne me restait qu’à me faire une idée plus finale sur le sujet. Un jour, il m’est apparu clair que je voulais être papa : je voulais donner le meilleur de moi-même, aux côtés de ma femme, pour élever un enfant dans l’amour.
J’ai annoncé ma décision à ma femme lors d’un souper au resto. Elle a été emballée et le projet d’adoption en Ukraine a pris son envol au cours des mois qui ont suivi. Ma femme a parlé de ce processus sur un autre blogue, donc je ne reviendrai pas sur le sujet.
Quand notre projet d’adoption en Ukraine est mort, nous l’avons pris très dur. Ma femme l’a vécu très extérieurement. Moi, c’était le contraire. Je n’ai rien dit. J’ai tenté d’être là pour ma femme, du mieux que j’ai pu. J’espère avoir été à la hauteur, et j’essaie encore de l’être. Ma femme est réellement ce que j’ai de plus précieux, et je partage sa peine à part entière. Cet ange d’Ukraine était notre rêve commun, ce sur quoi on avait mis toutes nos énergies.
Je l’ai vraiment vécu comme une grossesse qui se termine en fausse couche. Dans ces cas-là, on oublie souvent le papa. Bien souvent, celui-ci n’extériorise peut-être pas assez. C’était le cas avec moi. J’ai pleuré mon ange perdu en silence. Le soir, après que ma femme trouvait le sommeil, je me voyais souvent incapable de dormir, pris dans mes pensées. Les fins de semaine, j’en venais à m’engourdir avec la bouffe et l’alcool pour oublier tout cela. Je m’étais tellement dit que la paternité ferait de moi un meilleur homme. Ce serait terminé cette vie d’excès. Devant ce rêve brisé, c’est comme si je prenais ma revanche en fonçant à toute vitesse vers le pôle opposé à mes bonnes intentions.
Je n’en suis pas fier, ce n’est franchement pas la solution. Mais, à très court terme, l’ivresse engourdissait la douleur. Pourtant, ma vie était loin d’être vide. J’ai une femme qui m’aime et que j’aime plus que tout. J’ai des amis et une famille élargie qui sont là pour moi. Cela dit, cet ange envolé que je ne prendrais jamais dans mes bras ne sortait pas de ma tête et de mon cœur. Un vide avait été créé en moi, et je me demandais comment le combler.
Il y avait un autre sentiment que je ressentais, et je me sentais coupable de me sentir ainsi. Plusieurs personnes dans mon entourage devenaient parents. Malgré le fait que j’étais content pour eux, j’étais aussi envieux. Je trouve ça tellement laid comme sentiment, mais je ne pouvais pas le retenir pleinement. Je les jalousais en silence.
Maintenant, il y a le dossier d’adoption au Nouveau-Brunswick, mais il est fort probable que cela ne mènera à rien, compte tenu des circonstances. Suis-je en paix avec tout cela? Non. Tout comme ma femme, plein de questions et de commentaires d’autrui me ramènent à ces pensées qui me font mal. J’essaie de mon mieux de combler ce vide en moi, de la façon la plus constructive possible. J’ai ma femme à mes côtés, l’amour de ma vie. Cet amour est fort et solide. On s’épaule l’un et l’autre de notre mieux dans nos combats respectifs et commun. On gâte les enfants des autres. Ce n’est pas la même chose, mais la présence de n’importe quel enfant enrichit une vie. Pour le reste, j’essaie de faire mon deuil. Qui vivra verra…
vendredi 28 mai 2010
Favorite comics, part 1
In the previous message, I was talking about my particular sense of humour. I love to joke around and I have always loved doing that. Where does it come from? I’m not sure. My father does love a good joke, my mom too. Sure, their sensibilities are different than mine. Some of the stuff I find hilarious, they think it is just plain disgusting and wrong. Well, different generations, different ideas.
Today, I thought I would talk about the comedians I have come to admire or appreciate over the years. Here are just a few of those who shaped my wit and my humour. This is a very brief list. So many names could also be added. But, here is a few of them, with some quotes from their material that I particularly like.
George Carlin - Without a doubt, the king of stand-up comedy for me. The guy was pure genius. He left us a few years ago, but he will be forever remembered:
"Atheism is a non-prophet organization."
"Death is caused by swallowing small amounts of saliva over a long period of time."
"Fighting for peace is like screwing for virginity."
"Inside every cynical person, there is a disappointed idealist."
Bill Hicks - This is another comic genius that I discovered, unfortunately, much too late. He died very young, but he left us a great deal of funny material:
"You never see a positive drug story on the news. They always have the same LSD story. You've all seen it: "Today a young man on acid...thought he could fly...jumped out of a building...what a tragedy!" What a dick. He's an idiot. If he thought he could fly why didn't he take off from the ground first? Check it out? You don't see geese lined up to catch elevators to fly south; they fly from the fucking ground. He's an idiot. He's dead. Good! We lost a moron? Fucking celebrate. There's one less moron in the world."
"Keith Richards outlived Jim Fixx, the runner and health nut. The plot thickens. You remember Jim Fixx? This human cipher used to write books on jogging. Now, what do you fucking write about jogging? "Right foot, left foot, faster, faster, oh hell, I dunno, go home, shower." Pretty much covers the jogging experience, I do believe. Then this doofus goes out and has a heart attack and dies … while jogging. There is a God. "Right foot, left foot, hemorrhage.""
"… We live in a world where John Lennon was murdered, yet Barry Manilow continues to put out fucking albums. Goddammit! If you're gonna kill somebody, have some fucking taste. I'll drive you to Kenny Rogers' house."
Sam Kinison - Ah, the wild man of comedy. Also left us way too early:
"This man had to be Captain Kangaroo for over thirty FUCKING YEARS! No scandal, no controversy, drank a lot. You would too. I don't think he knew the show was going to go thirty fucking years. "Goddamn it, I'm fucking Captain Kangaroo. Thought the fucking gig would last two or three years, I didn't think I'd spend my whole fucking life as Captain Kangaroo! I was an actor, I was in the Actor's Studio, I wanted to do Death of a Salesman, I wanted to play Willy. My God, I'm Captain KANGAROO!" "
"You want to help world hunger? Stop sending them food. Don't send them another bite, send them U-Hauls. Send them a guy that says, "You know, we've been coming here giving you food for about 35 years now and we were driving through the desert, and we realized there wouldn't BE world hunger if you people would live where the FOOD IS! YOU LIVE IN A DESERT!! UNDERSTAND THAT? YOU LIVE IN A FUCKING DESERT!! NOTHING GROWS HERE! NOTHING'S GONNA GROW HERE! Come here, you see this? This is sand. You know what it's gonna be 100 years from now? IT'S GONNA BE SAND!! YOU LIVE IN A FUCKING DESERT! We have deserts in America, we just don't live in them, assholes!""
"There's always 30 or 40 Christians standing around, saying, "It's a shame that he has to die." And Jesus is saying, "Well, maybe I wouldn't have to if somebody would get a ladder and pair of pliers!!""
Dave Attell - Someone I just discovered, he’s very funny:
"People are so defensive, especially women, ya know. C’mon ladies. I offered a girl a tic-tac one time. Ya know what she says to me "Oh do I need one? Is it my breath? Do you think I need one?" I’m like, I’m just trying to be nice. If I was going to give you something you needed I would give you mustache wax and a t-shirt that says ‘One Cock at a Time.’""
"Sex is not that important; it's the afterward part when you're naked and it's warm. Watching the sun come up through the windshield you look in her good eye and you help strap on her leg and you know: you fucked a pirate."
"Pre-mature ejaculation. Let’s talk about it. Pre-mature ejaculation. That’s a pretty fancy term for, "Ooooooh Oh no. This has never happened before.""
"Some people are against porno movies. And I say hey, Ohio, Kentucky, and Iran: I say, hey - whatever a man, and a woman, and another woman with a penis and a midget do to a donkey, that's their garsh-darn business."
Doug Stanhope - Not necessarily one of the greats, but I give him kudos for surprising me. I don’t shock easily. I won’t share his most shocking stuff here, just my faves from his material:
"I hate when your friends quit drinking on you, don't you? It's sad. I've lost more friends to AA than Liberace did to the HIV. It's sad to see 'em go. You see a thirty day chip on your buddy's key ring, it's like seeing a toe tag on his cold, stiff corpse."
"Complaining that a comic is drunk is like going to a titty bar and complaining because your lapdancer is a communist."
"Jesus died for your sins. I'm doing it for your mere entertainment dollar."
"If I die soon, don't ever say I died too young. [...] Everytime an artist dies young- Kurt Cobain, or whatever, there's always the people "It's so sad, he had so much more to give." — How do you know? Maybe he was out of shit. How do you know? He's done. He got all the money, he did all the drugs, he fucked all your holes. And that's the American Dream, and when you're done with that you go "Oh, that's why they call it a dream. — It's bullshit, I'm still empty." And he cashed out. How do you what any artist had left? How do you know if Jimi Hendrix hadn't had died he wouldn't have wound up doing Superbowl half-time duets with Elton John right now?"
"I had a girl say this to me. She goes "you know, if god intended women to suck dick, he'd made cum taste like chocolate" I said "Yeah, but he had to make it taste like bleach so you remember to do the laundry""
These are just a few, I will come back with more at a later time. Hope you enjoy. If you share my sense of humour, look up those comics. You won’t regret it.
Today, I thought I would talk about the comedians I have come to admire or appreciate over the years. Here are just a few of those who shaped my wit and my humour. This is a very brief list. So many names could also be added. But, here is a few of them, with some quotes from their material that I particularly like.
George Carlin - Without a doubt, the king of stand-up comedy for me. The guy was pure genius. He left us a few years ago, but he will be forever remembered:
"Atheism is a non-prophet organization."
"Death is caused by swallowing small amounts of saliva over a long period of time."
"Fighting for peace is like screwing for virginity."
"Inside every cynical person, there is a disappointed idealist."
Bill Hicks - This is another comic genius that I discovered, unfortunately, much too late. He died very young, but he left us a great deal of funny material:
"You never see a positive drug story on the news. They always have the same LSD story. You've all seen it: "Today a young man on acid...thought he could fly...jumped out of a building...what a tragedy!" What a dick. He's an idiot. If he thought he could fly why didn't he take off from the ground first? Check it out? You don't see geese lined up to catch elevators to fly south; they fly from the fucking ground. He's an idiot. He's dead. Good! We lost a moron? Fucking celebrate. There's one less moron in the world."
"Keith Richards outlived Jim Fixx, the runner and health nut. The plot thickens. You remember Jim Fixx? This human cipher used to write books on jogging. Now, what do you fucking write about jogging? "Right foot, left foot, faster, faster, oh hell, I dunno, go home, shower." Pretty much covers the jogging experience, I do believe. Then this doofus goes out and has a heart attack and dies … while jogging. There is a God. "Right foot, left foot, hemorrhage.""
"… We live in a world where John Lennon was murdered, yet Barry Manilow continues to put out fucking albums. Goddammit! If you're gonna kill somebody, have some fucking taste. I'll drive you to Kenny Rogers' house."
Sam Kinison - Ah, the wild man of comedy. Also left us way too early:
"This man had to be Captain Kangaroo for over thirty FUCKING YEARS! No scandal, no controversy, drank a lot. You would too. I don't think he knew the show was going to go thirty fucking years. "Goddamn it, I'm fucking Captain Kangaroo. Thought the fucking gig would last two or three years, I didn't think I'd spend my whole fucking life as Captain Kangaroo! I was an actor, I was in the Actor's Studio, I wanted to do Death of a Salesman, I wanted to play Willy. My God, I'm Captain KANGAROO!" "
"You want to help world hunger? Stop sending them food. Don't send them another bite, send them U-Hauls. Send them a guy that says, "You know, we've been coming here giving you food for about 35 years now and we were driving through the desert, and we realized there wouldn't BE world hunger if you people would live where the FOOD IS! YOU LIVE IN A DESERT!! UNDERSTAND THAT? YOU LIVE IN A FUCKING DESERT!! NOTHING GROWS HERE! NOTHING'S GONNA GROW HERE! Come here, you see this? This is sand. You know what it's gonna be 100 years from now? IT'S GONNA BE SAND!! YOU LIVE IN A FUCKING DESERT! We have deserts in America, we just don't live in them, assholes!""
"There's always 30 or 40 Christians standing around, saying, "It's a shame that he has to die." And Jesus is saying, "Well, maybe I wouldn't have to if somebody would get a ladder and pair of pliers!!""
Dave Attell - Someone I just discovered, he’s very funny:
"People are so defensive, especially women, ya know. C’mon ladies. I offered a girl a tic-tac one time. Ya know what she says to me "Oh do I need one? Is it my breath? Do you think I need one?" I’m like, I’m just trying to be nice. If I was going to give you something you needed I would give you mustache wax and a t-shirt that says ‘One Cock at a Time.’""
"Sex is not that important; it's the afterward part when you're naked and it's warm. Watching the sun come up through the windshield you look in her good eye and you help strap on her leg and you know: you fucked a pirate."
"Pre-mature ejaculation. Let’s talk about it. Pre-mature ejaculation. That’s a pretty fancy term for, "Ooooooh Oh no. This has never happened before.""
"Some people are against porno movies. And I say hey, Ohio, Kentucky, and Iran: I say, hey - whatever a man, and a woman, and another woman with a penis and a midget do to a donkey, that's their garsh-darn business."
Doug Stanhope - Not necessarily one of the greats, but I give him kudos for surprising me. I don’t shock easily. I won’t share his most shocking stuff here, just my faves from his material:
"I hate when your friends quit drinking on you, don't you? It's sad. I've lost more friends to AA than Liberace did to the HIV. It's sad to see 'em go. You see a thirty day chip on your buddy's key ring, it's like seeing a toe tag on his cold, stiff corpse."
"Complaining that a comic is drunk is like going to a titty bar and complaining because your lapdancer is a communist."
"Jesus died for your sins. I'm doing it for your mere entertainment dollar."
"If I die soon, don't ever say I died too young. [...] Everytime an artist dies young- Kurt Cobain, or whatever, there's always the people "It's so sad, he had so much more to give." — How do you know? Maybe he was out of shit. How do you know? He's done. He got all the money, he did all the drugs, he fucked all your holes. And that's the American Dream, and when you're done with that you go "Oh, that's why they call it a dream. — It's bullshit, I'm still empty." And he cashed out. How do you what any artist had left? How do you know if Jimi Hendrix hadn't had died he wouldn't have wound up doing Superbowl half-time duets with Elton John right now?"
"I had a girl say this to me. She goes "you know, if god intended women to suck dick, he'd made cum taste like chocolate" I said "Yeah, but he had to make it taste like bleach so you remember to do the laundry""
These are just a few, I will come back with more at a later time. Hope you enjoy. If you share my sense of humour, look up those comics. You won’t regret it.
lundi 24 mai 2010
The return of the non-dangerous perv
I haven’t had the chance to write on my blog over the last little while. Why? I’m not exactly sure. I may be short on inspiration these days. I think that it can also be explained by the fact that I spend so much time in my daily life restraining my true self that I’m not used to really expressing my thoughts anymore.
Those who really know me know that I have a special sense of humour. I come from the George Carlin school of thought. I believe that you can joke about pretty much anything if you construct the joke well. One thing is clear: I do not believe in censorship. When it comes to dirty thoughts, I’m a champ. I love women, I love sex and I love to joke about everything surrounding those subjects. It doesn’t make me a dangerous man. I would never assault or force myself upon anyone: I just love talking about this so beautiful subject. I’m a non-dangerous perv.
Unfortunately, in my daily life, I run into a lot of prudes. People with no sense of humour at all. People that cannot laugh at themselves and at everything around us. Some people take things a little too seriously. When a joke is too spicy, raunchy or whatever, they groan as if they were the fruit on the second immaculate conception in history. Look, folks and folksettes, we’re all here because two human beings somewhere decided to get laid. It got done in different situations and in various ways, but it is one of life’s guarantees. It was probably a case where your dad asked to get some, and he got lucky when your mom finally gave him a slice of pie. Sure, not a pretty thought, but the reality.
Also, we are all born with the same parts. They come in different shapes and proportions, but they are all the same pieces of equipment. They are made to connect, so get over yourselves. Why should a thing so beautiful as sex be taboo? From birth, we are taught that the human body is dirty and that it should be hidden. We are taught what we shouldn’t talk about. Barriers by the ton from the beginning.
I try to be respectful of other people’s sensibilities, but I just don’t understand, In the meantime, I try to restrain myself when I’m not sure about the audience. Some of you have seen me let loose on Facebook sometimes, but I’m still careful there. When I’m surrounded by people who can take it, I finally can be myself, I thank those of you who don’t take everything I say so seriously as to get offended. Your presence in my life is truly a blessing.
Those who really know me know that I have a special sense of humour. I come from the George Carlin school of thought. I believe that you can joke about pretty much anything if you construct the joke well. One thing is clear: I do not believe in censorship. When it comes to dirty thoughts, I’m a champ. I love women, I love sex and I love to joke about everything surrounding those subjects. It doesn’t make me a dangerous man. I would never assault or force myself upon anyone: I just love talking about this so beautiful subject. I’m a non-dangerous perv.
Unfortunately, in my daily life, I run into a lot of prudes. People with no sense of humour at all. People that cannot laugh at themselves and at everything around us. Some people take things a little too seriously. When a joke is too spicy, raunchy or whatever, they groan as if they were the fruit on the second immaculate conception in history. Look, folks and folksettes, we’re all here because two human beings somewhere decided to get laid. It got done in different situations and in various ways, but it is one of life’s guarantees. It was probably a case where your dad asked to get some, and he got lucky when your mom finally gave him a slice of pie. Sure, not a pretty thought, but the reality.
Also, we are all born with the same parts. They come in different shapes and proportions, but they are all the same pieces of equipment. They are made to connect, so get over yourselves. Why should a thing so beautiful as sex be taboo? From birth, we are taught that the human body is dirty and that it should be hidden. We are taught what we shouldn’t talk about. Barriers by the ton from the beginning.
I try to be respectful of other people’s sensibilities, but I just don’t understand, In the meantime, I try to restrain myself when I’m not sure about the audience. Some of you have seen me let loose on Facebook sometimes, but I’m still careful there. When I’m surrounded by people who can take it, I finally can be myself, I thank those of you who don’t take everything I say so seriously as to get offended. Your presence in my life is truly a blessing.
dimanche 9 mai 2010
Hommage à une grande femme
Ma maman adorée et moi - Fête des mères 2010
Non, je ne parlerai pas ici de la reine d’Angleterre ou d’une quelconque grande vedette. Aujourd’hui, en cette journée de la fête des mères, je veux rendre hommage à celle qui m’a donné la vie. Cette qui m’a bercé pendant de longues nuits et qui m’a aimé de tout son cœur.
Toutes les mères souffrent pour leurs enfants, c’est normal. C’est un rôle tellement ingrat. Ma mère ne fait pas exception. Après avoir perdu quatre enfants avant ou après la naissance, elle avait adopté ma sœur. Elle pensait que la vie ne lui donnerait pas d’enfant biologique. Cependant, quatre ans plus tard, elle tombait enceinte à nouveau. Cette fois-là serait-elle la bonne? Elle a passé au-delà de 90 jours à l’hôpital à la fin de sa grossesse et les docteurs ont tout fait pour que cette fois soit la bonne. Elle le voulait tellement, tout comme mon père. Eh bien, le bébé a survécu et est devenu celui qui écrit ce texte aujourd’hui.
Au début de ma vie, j’ai eu beaucoup de problèmes. J’ai attrapé toutes les petites maladies qu’un enfant peut avoir. J’avais des intolérances au lait et beaucoup de coliques. Ma mère a passé des nuits entières à me bercer parce que je pleurais toujours. Avec toute sa patience et son amour, elle m’a prodigué tous les petits soins imaginables et m’a aidé à passer au travers de tout ça.
Pendant longtemps, j’en ai voulu, périodiquement, à mes parents d’avoir mis au monde cet être que je détestais tellement voir dans mon miroir chaque matin. Je me disais que j’aurais dû faire partie des statistiques et ne jamais survivre à la naissance. Mais, aujourd’hui, je suis reconnaissant. J’ai grandi dans un foyer où l’amour régnait. Je ne me suis jamais aimé, mais mes parents m’ont aimé assez pour compenser 1000 fois. Ils m’ont gardé sur le droit chemin, malgré mes écarts pas si graves, et m’ont mis sur la bonne voie pour rencontrer la femme magnifique que j’ai mariée.
Aujourd’hui, je veux rendre hommage à ma mère, Laurette (Lebel) Poitras, une femme forte et aimante, une femme magnifique que j’aime beaucoup et que je respecte énormément. Je lui dis merci d’être ce qu’elle est et de m’avoir tout donné d’elle-même. Je n’ai pas toujours été facile à vivre, j’en suis certain. Cela dit, malgré toutes les embûches que la vie a mises sur mon chemin, je sais que je peux au moins toujours compter sur l’amour de ma mère.
Merci maman, je t’aime.
Toutes les mères souffrent pour leurs enfants, c’est normal. C’est un rôle tellement ingrat. Ma mère ne fait pas exception. Après avoir perdu quatre enfants avant ou après la naissance, elle avait adopté ma sœur. Elle pensait que la vie ne lui donnerait pas d’enfant biologique. Cependant, quatre ans plus tard, elle tombait enceinte à nouveau. Cette fois-là serait-elle la bonne? Elle a passé au-delà de 90 jours à l’hôpital à la fin de sa grossesse et les docteurs ont tout fait pour que cette fois soit la bonne. Elle le voulait tellement, tout comme mon père. Eh bien, le bébé a survécu et est devenu celui qui écrit ce texte aujourd’hui.
Au début de ma vie, j’ai eu beaucoup de problèmes. J’ai attrapé toutes les petites maladies qu’un enfant peut avoir. J’avais des intolérances au lait et beaucoup de coliques. Ma mère a passé des nuits entières à me bercer parce que je pleurais toujours. Avec toute sa patience et son amour, elle m’a prodigué tous les petits soins imaginables et m’a aidé à passer au travers de tout ça.
Pendant longtemps, j’en ai voulu, périodiquement, à mes parents d’avoir mis au monde cet être que je détestais tellement voir dans mon miroir chaque matin. Je me disais que j’aurais dû faire partie des statistiques et ne jamais survivre à la naissance. Mais, aujourd’hui, je suis reconnaissant. J’ai grandi dans un foyer où l’amour régnait. Je ne me suis jamais aimé, mais mes parents m’ont aimé assez pour compenser 1000 fois. Ils m’ont gardé sur le droit chemin, malgré mes écarts pas si graves, et m’ont mis sur la bonne voie pour rencontrer la femme magnifique que j’ai mariée.
Aujourd’hui, je veux rendre hommage à ma mère, Laurette (Lebel) Poitras, une femme forte et aimante, une femme magnifique que j’aime beaucoup et que je respecte énormément. Je lui dis merci d’être ce qu’elle est et de m’avoir tout donné d’elle-même. Je n’ai pas toujours été facile à vivre, j’en suis certain. Cela dit, malgré toutes les embûches que la vie a mises sur mon chemin, je sais que je peux au moins toujours compter sur l’amour de ma mère.
Merci maman, je t’aime.
mercredi 5 mai 2010
The big picture
Last weekend, my wife and I went to Bangor to pick up my parents at the airport. They were flying back from Florida. We decided to make a little vacation out of it to go shopping and to enjoy the good restaurants over there. The duty free booze on the way back seemed like a good plan also. As I said, there was some shopping involved in the deal. I found some CD’s and DVD’s, and my wife found some clothes.
That being said, let’s move on the to the main subject of this particular entry in my blog.
While my wife was trying on a dress in this one particular store, I was standing around waiting in the area reserved for trying on clothes. Had I only known the horrors waiting for me in that section of the store, I would have kept away. Unfortunately, I was ill-informed and, thus, was subjected to an absolute atrocity.
You see, right there, there was a huge sectional mirror that would permit you to get a full view of yourself, front and back. Had I been properly briefed about the whole thing, I would have looked away. But, NO! I looked deep into the eyes of pure ugliness. I saw everything. My fat ass, my inflated forms, the back of my head and my increasing baldness. Sweet mother of God, it’s a good thing I was not naked.
At that particular moment, though, I wasn’t really feeling sorry for myself. To be honest, I felt bad for my wife. How can such a beautiful and smart woman have such poor tastes? Well, to be fair, I have changed quite a bit since I met her 11 years ago. I have gained over 100 lbs. That made me wonder what she would do if she met me for the first time today, looking like this. Would she fall in love with me? Would she even be attracted to me? God forbid, I’m not even attracted to myself right now. I barely feel like sharing a bed with myself now, so forget about touching myself.
This experience has made more resolute about losing a lot of weight. In the meantime, I take comfort in my sweet wife’s multiple kind words about me and in the looks of love she lays upon this broken ship. She may have weird tastes, in my mind, but she really seems to love me, and that is all that matters. I have to count my blessings. After all, looking like I do, one would think I would have to pay to get the affection of a woman. And one thing is for sure, she’s not with me for my money...
That being said, let’s move on the to the main subject of this particular entry in my blog.
While my wife was trying on a dress in this one particular store, I was standing around waiting in the area reserved for trying on clothes. Had I only known the horrors waiting for me in that section of the store, I would have kept away. Unfortunately, I was ill-informed and, thus, was subjected to an absolute atrocity.
You see, right there, there was a huge sectional mirror that would permit you to get a full view of yourself, front and back. Had I been properly briefed about the whole thing, I would have looked away. But, NO! I looked deep into the eyes of pure ugliness. I saw everything. My fat ass, my inflated forms, the back of my head and my increasing baldness. Sweet mother of God, it’s a good thing I was not naked.
At that particular moment, though, I wasn’t really feeling sorry for myself. To be honest, I felt bad for my wife. How can such a beautiful and smart woman have such poor tastes? Well, to be fair, I have changed quite a bit since I met her 11 years ago. I have gained over 100 lbs. That made me wonder what she would do if she met me for the first time today, looking like this. Would she fall in love with me? Would she even be attracted to me? God forbid, I’m not even attracted to myself right now. I barely feel like sharing a bed with myself now, so forget about touching myself.
This experience has made more resolute about losing a lot of weight. In the meantime, I take comfort in my sweet wife’s multiple kind words about me and in the looks of love she lays upon this broken ship. She may have weird tastes, in my mind, but she really seems to love me, and that is all that matters. I have to count my blessings. After all, looking like I do, one would think I would have to pay to get the affection of a woman. And one thing is for sure, she’s not with me for my money...
mercredi 28 avril 2010
La croisée des chemins
C’est fait, j’ai maintenant atteint l’âge de 33 ans. Pour certains, c’est considéré comme « L’âge du Christ ». Pour moi, c’est plutôt « L’âge du Chris », celui où un de mes idoles, Chris Farley, a quitté ce monde. Le même âge où John Belushi et Bon Scott, deux artistes que j’admire beaucoup, sont morts également. La 33e année d’une vie n’est donc pas très positive pour les clowns tristes et pour ceux qui aiment faire la fête à l’extrême. Pourquoi ne pas changer la tendance?
Depuis toujours, je combats mes goûts pour l’absolu. J’ai tellement soif d’intensité que, quand j’aime quelque chose, je l’aime sans retenue. C’est ainsi que mon appréciation pour la bouffe et l’alcool ont fait de moi cet être aussi immense que son cœur. Je ne suis pas un adepte des demi-mesures. Aujourd’hui, cela doit changer. Je suis à la croisée des chemins.
Pour ce qui est de la bouffe, je dois apprendre à contrôler les entrées. Ce n’est pas toujours l’appétit qui me fait manger. Je le réalise. Cette nourriture que j’aime tant était en train de me tuer.
En ce qui a trait à l’alcool, je dois aussi apprendre la modération. Je veux calmer mes ardeurs avant que ce soit vraiment problématique. Je veux garder le contrôle avant de devoir arrêter complètement, ce qui serait franchement dommage. Je dois me conditionner à prendre un verre de temps en temps au lieu d’une bouteille de temps en temps.
Aujourd’hui, le 28 avril 2010, je suis sur la bonne voie. Je reviens de voir ma diététicienne et j’ai perdu cinq autres livres au cours du dernier mois. Quand j’ai recommencé à me prendre en main au début de l’année, j’en étais à plus de 390 lbs. Maintenant, je suis à 379lbs. C’est un combat de longue haleine que je dois mener contre mes instincts de consommateur épicurien invétéré. Je sais que j’en suis capable. Je ne veux pas partir les pieds devant dans la trentaine comme les idoles mentionnés plus haut. J’ai encore beaucoup de choses à faire. Mon livre à publier, tant de lieux à visiter avec la femme de ma vie et tant de surprises que la vie peut me réserver.
Je veux remercier tous mes ami(e)s pour leur appui dans tout cela. Vos paroles sans jugement me sont précieuses. Merci aussi à toi mon amour. Sans toi, je n’aurais jamais pris ce virage vers des habitudes plus saines. Merci d’être dans ma vie et de me donner, par ton amour, la force de voir une raison de me battre.
Depuis toujours, je combats mes goûts pour l’absolu. J’ai tellement soif d’intensité que, quand j’aime quelque chose, je l’aime sans retenue. C’est ainsi que mon appréciation pour la bouffe et l’alcool ont fait de moi cet être aussi immense que son cœur. Je ne suis pas un adepte des demi-mesures. Aujourd’hui, cela doit changer. Je suis à la croisée des chemins.
Pour ce qui est de la bouffe, je dois apprendre à contrôler les entrées. Ce n’est pas toujours l’appétit qui me fait manger. Je le réalise. Cette nourriture que j’aime tant était en train de me tuer.
En ce qui a trait à l’alcool, je dois aussi apprendre la modération. Je veux calmer mes ardeurs avant que ce soit vraiment problématique. Je veux garder le contrôle avant de devoir arrêter complètement, ce qui serait franchement dommage. Je dois me conditionner à prendre un verre de temps en temps au lieu d’une bouteille de temps en temps.
Aujourd’hui, le 28 avril 2010, je suis sur la bonne voie. Je reviens de voir ma diététicienne et j’ai perdu cinq autres livres au cours du dernier mois. Quand j’ai recommencé à me prendre en main au début de l’année, j’en étais à plus de 390 lbs. Maintenant, je suis à 379lbs. C’est un combat de longue haleine que je dois mener contre mes instincts de consommateur épicurien invétéré. Je sais que j’en suis capable. Je ne veux pas partir les pieds devant dans la trentaine comme les idoles mentionnés plus haut. J’ai encore beaucoup de choses à faire. Mon livre à publier, tant de lieux à visiter avec la femme de ma vie et tant de surprises que la vie peut me réserver.
Je veux remercier tous mes ami(e)s pour leur appui dans tout cela. Vos paroles sans jugement me sont précieuses. Merci aussi à toi mon amour. Sans toi, je n’aurais jamais pris ce virage vers des habitudes plus saines. Merci d’être dans ma vie et de me donner, par ton amour, la force de voir une raison de me battre.
vendredi 23 avril 2010
Fat guy in a little coat
Over twelve years ago, funny man Chris Farley was found dead and alone in his Chicago apartment. After years of abuse on his own body, his heart had given out on him and we were left with memories of how hilarious he could be. He gave everything of himself everytime he came out in public. His death really struck a chord with me, since I could see a little of myself in him. Around that time, I wrote a poem as a tribute to him, one of my idols.
Today, as I rapidly approach the 33rd year of my life, I have a better understanding of what he must have been going through. You live and you learn. I recently came upon that old poem in my things. So, with a new perspective, I decided to rewrite it. Here it goes:
Fat guy in a little coat (Song for Farley)
Crack a smile, fall on my face
You laugh all your worries away
Deform my awful truth
Lift up my heavy boots
Behind my cracking mask
Trails of tears in the night
Outside these walls
I only aim to please
Fat guy in a little coat
A prisoner still under oath
Live fast and die young
Push until it all comes undone
Fat clown with a big heart
Over the frown, I play a part
Keep on sweating my makeup
Until my time is finally up
My body, a broken temple
Prayers are all in vain
Words dripping with alcohol
Tears buried in laughter
Now that all the people have gone
My heart, like my body, is hard to carry
I will leave, all alone
Once the laughter is gone
Today, as I rapidly approach the 33rd year of my life, I have a better understanding of what he must have been going through. You live and you learn. I recently came upon that old poem in my things. So, with a new perspective, I decided to rewrite it. Here it goes:
Fat guy in a little coat (Song for Farley)
Crack a smile, fall on my face
You laugh all your worries away
Deform my awful truth
Lift up my heavy boots
Behind my cracking mask
Trails of tears in the night
Outside these walls
I only aim to please
Fat guy in a little coat
A prisoner still under oath
Live fast and die young
Push until it all comes undone
Fat clown with a big heart
Over the frown, I play a part
Keep on sweating my makeup
Until my time is finally up
My body, a broken temple
Prayers are all in vain
Words dripping with alcohol
Tears buried in laughter
Now that all the people have gone
My heart, like my body, is hard to carry
I will leave, all alone
Once the laughter is gone
jeudi 22 avril 2010
Just a short message today to mention that April 22nd is the birthday of my favorite actor of all time: Mr Jack Nicholson. He just turned 73 today.
I never get tired of watching this man's films. I have seen pretty much all the movies he has made over his illustrious career and I hope he makes many more before he checks out one of these days.
He has a movie coming out later this year, called "How Do You Know?", a movie co-starring Paul Rudd and Reese Witherspoon. It will be directed by James L. Brooks, same guy who gave us "As Good As It Gets" and "Terms of Endearment".
So, Happy Birthday Jack!
mardi 20 avril 2010
The crack of dawn
« I’m so horny, the crack of dawn better watch out » - Tom Waits
For those of you folks not familiar with SoftYesterday’s language (langue de MolleHier ;P), my last article was about the first time I met the woman who would one day become my wife. That was in April 1999, 11 years ago. A date that almost did not happen. Now, let’s take a look at my second date with Chantal.
After the first date, it was time for me to go back home. I was finished with university. I left Moncton and went back to Fredericton, to stay with my parents while I looked for a job. Chantal and I kept in touch through e-mail and phone. We were just friends at this point, not knowing where all of it would lead. We were going to let time do its handiwork.
Then, one day in May, an opportunity came to see each other again. A friend of mine was leaving the province to go to Australia for a while. He was living in Moncton. I was going to go party with him and some other friends. I would crash at his place. Chantal and I set up a date at the mall to spend some time together. I had no car, but a friend of mine would drop me in Moncton on his way to Nova Scotia. He would pick me up later that weekend on the way back. The night before we left Fredericton to go to Moncton, that friend crashed at my place and we got drunk.
So, the next morning, on a severe hangover, we left for Moncton. While waiting for Chantal at the mall, I got a Blizzard at DQ. I was hungry, yet nauseous. The ice cream seemed to do the trick to settle my stomach. I was still immature. I knew that women liked their men well hung, but I should have known at that point that hung over couldn’t be that good to make a good first impression. Yet, Chantal arrived and she didn’t seem to hold it against me. She even had a good laugh about it.
We saw a movie that day, “Never Been Kissed” with Drew Barrymore. But, what made that date so much more memorable for me was what Chantal was wearing that day. She had this tight fitting shirt with nice little blue shorts that clung beautifully to her lovely backside. At one point, we saw her parents in the food court and she bent down slightly to talk to them while I was behind her. I was trying to be as subtle as the letter “B” in the word “subtle” while I took a peak. She had been just a friend so far, but the attraction was definitely there for me now. Don’t get me wrong, I would discover plenty of other qualities in her as we got to know each other better, but the initial attraction is certainly important. As I glanced sideways at her beautiful shapes, I told myself that, if I could spend my life looking at that lovely plump cushion, I would have it made. I now had to find a way to win her affection. I had to take a crack at it. ;) In the end, I wedged myself into...her heart. Though, based on the short and quick hug I got as we left each other later that day, I thought I didn’t stand a chance. Fortunately, I was wrong.
I should also add that I still feel the same about her lower hemisphere. Hey, for that matter, I still love the whole package 11 years later. I could even say that I love her more today, because, in the years that followed, I found in Chantal a lover, a cosmic mate, a soul mate, a friend, the love of my life. ..and the butt of my jokes when I am in a teasing mood.
For those of you folks not familiar with SoftYesterday’s language (langue de MolleHier ;P), my last article was about the first time I met the woman who would one day become my wife. That was in April 1999, 11 years ago. A date that almost did not happen. Now, let’s take a look at my second date with Chantal.
After the first date, it was time for me to go back home. I was finished with university. I left Moncton and went back to Fredericton, to stay with my parents while I looked for a job. Chantal and I kept in touch through e-mail and phone. We were just friends at this point, not knowing where all of it would lead. We were going to let time do its handiwork.
Then, one day in May, an opportunity came to see each other again. A friend of mine was leaving the province to go to Australia for a while. He was living in Moncton. I was going to go party with him and some other friends. I would crash at his place. Chantal and I set up a date at the mall to spend some time together. I had no car, but a friend of mine would drop me in Moncton on his way to Nova Scotia. He would pick me up later that weekend on the way back. The night before we left Fredericton to go to Moncton, that friend crashed at my place and we got drunk.
So, the next morning, on a severe hangover, we left for Moncton. While waiting for Chantal at the mall, I got a Blizzard at DQ. I was hungry, yet nauseous. The ice cream seemed to do the trick to settle my stomach. I was still immature. I knew that women liked their men well hung, but I should have known at that point that hung over couldn’t be that good to make a good first impression. Yet, Chantal arrived and she didn’t seem to hold it against me. She even had a good laugh about it.
We saw a movie that day, “Never Been Kissed” with Drew Barrymore. But, what made that date so much more memorable for me was what Chantal was wearing that day. She had this tight fitting shirt with nice little blue shorts that clung beautifully to her lovely backside. At one point, we saw her parents in the food court and she bent down slightly to talk to them while I was behind her. I was trying to be as subtle as the letter “B” in the word “subtle” while I took a peak. She had been just a friend so far, but the attraction was definitely there for me now. Don’t get me wrong, I would discover plenty of other qualities in her as we got to know each other better, but the initial attraction is certainly important. As I glanced sideways at her beautiful shapes, I told myself that, if I could spend my life looking at that lovely plump cushion, I would have it made. I now had to find a way to win her affection. I had to take a crack at it. ;) In the end, I wedged myself into...her heart. Though, based on the short and quick hug I got as we left each other later that day, I thought I didn’t stand a chance. Fortunately, I was wrong.
I should also add that I still feel the same about her lower hemisphere. Hey, for that matter, I still love the whole package 11 years later. I could even say that I love her more today, because, in the years that followed, I found in Chantal a lover, a cosmic mate, a soul mate, a friend, the love of my life. ..and the butt of my jokes when I am in a teasing mood.
dimanche 18 avril 2010
Un premier rendez-vous presque manqué
En fin de semaine, ma femme et moi célébrons le 11e anniversaire de notre première rencontre. À l’époque, ce n’était qu’une rencontre amicale entre deux personnes qui s’étaient parlé sur Internet. Le tout devait se passer au centre commercial Champlain, à Dieppe, devant le WalMart. Dire que cette fameuse rencontre a passé très près de ne pas avoir lieu.
Chantal et moi avions convenu d’une heure de rencontre. Je terminais mes études universitaires à Moncton et elle était finissante au secondaire à Rogersville. Sa famille se rendait à Saint John et arrêtait à Moncton pour quelques heures. En raison d’un malentendu avec ses parents, Chantal m’avait donné rendez-vous à l’heure où ils quittaient Rogersville, à 1 heure de là en voiture. J’arrive à l’heure prévue et je m’assois sur le banc devant le WalMart. J’ai mon téléphone en main, que je ramène chez NBTel (ancien nom pour Aliant) vu que je termine mon séjour à Moncton et que je retourne chez mes parents en attendant de trouver un travail. En raison du malentendu, Chantal est évidemment en retard. En temps normal, j’aurais foutu le camp après une demi-heure en me disant que je me suis fait niaiser. Mais, non, quelque chose m’y retenait. Encore aujourd’hui, je ne sais pas trop quoi.
Finalement, elle arrive 45 minutes en retard, s’excusant. Ce fût son premier retard dans notre vie de couple, qui n’avait pas encore réellement commencé. Ce fût aussi son dernier. Ma femme est la ponctualité incarnée. Pour la seule fois de sa vie, également, ma femme était sans mot. Elle parlait peu, probablement trop gênée. Dieu sait que cela a changé avec le temps. Maintenant, plus moyen de la lui fermer ;P À l’époque, j’avais même tenté de la chatouiller pour la faire réagir et voir si elle parlerait. Elle avait réagi.
Il faut croire que le charme a opéré malgré tout. Je lui ai pardonné son retard et elle a continué à me parler malgré le fait qu’elle détestait la majorité des vêtements que je portais ce jour-là. Ce dernier élément, elle l’a seulement avoué plus tard. Je les aimais moi mes bottes de cowboy et mon manteau de cuir.
Plus tard, je vous parlerai de notre deuxième rencontre, encore plus mémorable.
Chantal et moi avions convenu d’une heure de rencontre. Je terminais mes études universitaires à Moncton et elle était finissante au secondaire à Rogersville. Sa famille se rendait à Saint John et arrêtait à Moncton pour quelques heures. En raison d’un malentendu avec ses parents, Chantal m’avait donné rendez-vous à l’heure où ils quittaient Rogersville, à 1 heure de là en voiture. J’arrive à l’heure prévue et je m’assois sur le banc devant le WalMart. J’ai mon téléphone en main, que je ramène chez NBTel (ancien nom pour Aliant) vu que je termine mon séjour à Moncton et que je retourne chez mes parents en attendant de trouver un travail. En raison du malentendu, Chantal est évidemment en retard. En temps normal, j’aurais foutu le camp après une demi-heure en me disant que je me suis fait niaiser. Mais, non, quelque chose m’y retenait. Encore aujourd’hui, je ne sais pas trop quoi.
Finalement, elle arrive 45 minutes en retard, s’excusant. Ce fût son premier retard dans notre vie de couple, qui n’avait pas encore réellement commencé. Ce fût aussi son dernier. Ma femme est la ponctualité incarnée. Pour la seule fois de sa vie, également, ma femme était sans mot. Elle parlait peu, probablement trop gênée. Dieu sait que cela a changé avec le temps. Maintenant, plus moyen de la lui fermer ;P À l’époque, j’avais même tenté de la chatouiller pour la faire réagir et voir si elle parlerait. Elle avait réagi.
Il faut croire que le charme a opéré malgré tout. Je lui ai pardonné son retard et elle a continué à me parler malgré le fait qu’elle détestait la majorité des vêtements que je portais ce jour-là. Ce dernier élément, elle l’a seulement avoué plus tard. Je les aimais moi mes bottes de cowboy et mon manteau de cuir.
Plus tard, je vous parlerai de notre deuxième rencontre, encore plus mémorable.
vendredi 16 avril 2010
Sold my soul to Rock N' Roll
Anybody who knows me well enough can tell you that one thing I am passionate about is music. I know what I love and, more importantly, I know what I hate. I have elaborate tastes. I mean, I love blues, rock, classic rock, folk, some country (mostly the old outlaws like Kris Kristoferson and Johnny Cash) and many other styles. But, the stuff that gets me going every time is the music of all music: Rock N’ Roll!!!!
I was born in the late 1970’s, but I am a kid of the 80’s. For me, music needs the basic elements: guitars, bass, drums, a singer and maybe some keyboards (not on every song). I do not need my Rock n’ Roll to be a hard-edged kind of thing. I love artists like Tom Petty, Elton John and Billy Joel. The music is not necessarily hard hitting, but it is still Rock N’ Roll to me ;P
My usual rule of thumb as for what I don’t like is: If you are accompanied on stage by dancers all performing choreographies with you, chances are I will hate your music. The Justin Timberlake’s and Lady Gaga’s of this world really make me wish I was deaf. Pointless stuff that is not even worth recording. Some will tell me that Lady Gaga writes her own songs, so she is good. Wow! I produce my own bowel movements. Yes, they are all homemade! All from me. Would I try to sell them to you as if it was worth something? Nope! I would hope she would do the same with the crap she makes.
Another style I loathe is the screamers, like Celine Dion. Now, there’s an artist I have no appreciation for. I call those note pushers. No emotions, just notes to be reached. Again, total bore.
So, to get myself going, I will take The Doors, Janis, Jimi, Ozzy, Motorhead, GnR, Aerosmith, The Stones and the likes over any pop tarts, and over any note pushers, any day. I want to feel something in my music. I want punchy lyrics sung with some balls and gusto! I want guitars and no drum machines. I want real music that standsfor something.
So...For those about to rock, we salute you!
I was born in the late 1970’s, but I am a kid of the 80’s. For me, music needs the basic elements: guitars, bass, drums, a singer and maybe some keyboards (not on every song). I do not need my Rock n’ Roll to be a hard-edged kind of thing. I love artists like Tom Petty, Elton John and Billy Joel. The music is not necessarily hard hitting, but it is still Rock N’ Roll to me ;P
My usual rule of thumb as for what I don’t like is: If you are accompanied on stage by dancers all performing choreographies with you, chances are I will hate your music. The Justin Timberlake’s and Lady Gaga’s of this world really make me wish I was deaf. Pointless stuff that is not even worth recording. Some will tell me that Lady Gaga writes her own songs, so she is good. Wow! I produce my own bowel movements. Yes, they are all homemade! All from me. Would I try to sell them to you as if it was worth something? Nope! I would hope she would do the same with the crap she makes.
Another style I loathe is the screamers, like Celine Dion. Now, there’s an artist I have no appreciation for. I call those note pushers. No emotions, just notes to be reached. Again, total bore.
So, to get myself going, I will take The Doors, Janis, Jimi, Ozzy, Motorhead, GnR, Aerosmith, The Stones and the likes over any pop tarts, and over any note pushers, any day. I want to feel something in my music. I want punchy lyrics sung with some balls and gusto! I want guitars and no drum machines. I want real music that standsfor something.
So...For those about to rock, we salute you!
mardi 13 avril 2010
La vieille brosse à dents
J’ai vécu une expérience oh combien traumatisante récemment. Ma femme a décidé, de son propre chef, de jeter nos vieilles brosses à dents et d’en acheter des nouvelles. Au fil du temps, je m'étais attaché à ma brosse à dents. J’étais habitué. Elle était vieille et peut-être pas aussi efficace qu’avant, mais c’était ma brosse. Elle s’est retrouvée aux poubelles, laissant derrière elle de bons souvenirs de soins quotidiens.
J’ai commencé à me dire que, si ma femme pouvait jeter de vieilles choses avec autant de facilité, peut-être que j’y passerais un jour. On se l’avouera, je suis quelque peu défraîchi. Moi aussi, je perds mes poils peu à peu. Ceux qui restent sont fous et effiloché. Moi aussi, je suis usé par la vie. Je suis, pour tout dire, un Chou qui n’est plus digne d’être sur les tablettes.
Je sais, vous me direz qu’il y a une grande différence entre une vieille brosse à dent et un humain. De toute façon, me direz-vous, les dentistes recommandent un changement fréquent. Cependant, la comparaison n’est pas si folle. Moi aussi, je suis à l’aise dans une bouche. De plus, comme une bonne vieille brosse à dents, je suis habitué de bien travailler dans les coins…
Heureusement, le destin est venu mettre un baume sur mes plaies. Ma femme trouve que sa nouvelle brosse à dents n’est pas à la hauteur. Elle n’est pas appropriée pour sa bouche. Elle n’est pas confortable et les poils sont un peu raides. Donc, peut-être qu’elle réalisera qu’on ne trouve pas toujours meilleur dans le changement.
Allez…tous en cœur…Brosse, brosse, brosse, je me brosse les dents…
J’ai commencé à me dire que, si ma femme pouvait jeter de vieilles choses avec autant de facilité, peut-être que j’y passerais un jour. On se l’avouera, je suis quelque peu défraîchi. Moi aussi, je perds mes poils peu à peu. Ceux qui restent sont fous et effiloché. Moi aussi, je suis usé par la vie. Je suis, pour tout dire, un Chou qui n’est plus digne d’être sur les tablettes.
Je sais, vous me direz qu’il y a une grande différence entre une vieille brosse à dent et un humain. De toute façon, me direz-vous, les dentistes recommandent un changement fréquent. Cependant, la comparaison n’est pas si folle. Moi aussi, je suis à l’aise dans une bouche. De plus, comme une bonne vieille brosse à dents, je suis habitué de bien travailler dans les coins…
Heureusement, le destin est venu mettre un baume sur mes plaies. Ma femme trouve que sa nouvelle brosse à dents n’est pas à la hauteur. Elle n’est pas appropriée pour sa bouche. Elle n’est pas confortable et les poils sont un peu raides. Donc, peut-être qu’elle réalisera qu’on ne trouve pas toujours meilleur dans le changement.
Allez…tous en cœur…Brosse, brosse, brosse, je me brosse les dents…
lundi 12 avril 2010
L’amour...le vrai
Dans mon premier texte, j’aimerais prendre le temps de rendre un petit hommage à la femme de ma vie : Chantal. C’est une femme extraordinaire que je connais depuis maintenant 11 ans. Elle est entrée dans ma vie comme un vent de fraîcheur et elle a ramené votre humble gros navire - délabré et à la dérive – à bon port.
J’ai souvent dit au fil des ans qu’elle m’avait sauvé la vie. Je ne disais pas ça pour être cute et gentil : je le pensais vraiment et je le pense encore aujourd’hui. Je voguais vers le fond à une vitesse fulgurante et j’ai retrouvé le Nord grâce à elle. Ma bataille intérieure avec la vie est loin d’être gagnée, mais je sais au moins que, à ses côtés, elle vaut la peine d’être vécue. Je n’ai pas encore trouvé toutes mes réponses et je dérape encore à l’occasion. Mais, grâce à elle, je mets toujours les freins avant de foncer dans le mur et je me reprends en main.
Ma douce a son propre combat présentement. J’essaie d’être à la hauteur à ses côtés, avec la même force qu’elle a démontrée en demeurant toujours près de moi. Je ne suis pas facile à endurer. Je suis un gros paresseux, très angoissé. Je l’assume, même si je ne suis pas nécessairement fier. Mais, elle ne m’a jamais lâché, elle a toujours cru en moi. Et bien, je crois en elle aussi. Je la sais capable de surmonter les plus gros obstacles que la vie peut mettre sur le chemin d’un être humain, et je serai à ses côtés jusqu’au bout. Ce n’est pas du courage…c’est de l’amour, le vrai. J’aime cette femme du plus profond de mon cœur. Comme je le lui ai promis à notre mariage, je tenterai d’être digne de son amour pour toujours et à jamais.
Mon amour…J’t’aime tout court…
J’ai souvent dit au fil des ans qu’elle m’avait sauvé la vie. Je ne disais pas ça pour être cute et gentil : je le pensais vraiment et je le pense encore aujourd’hui. Je voguais vers le fond à une vitesse fulgurante et j’ai retrouvé le Nord grâce à elle. Ma bataille intérieure avec la vie est loin d’être gagnée, mais je sais au moins que, à ses côtés, elle vaut la peine d’être vécue. Je n’ai pas encore trouvé toutes mes réponses et je dérape encore à l’occasion. Mais, grâce à elle, je mets toujours les freins avant de foncer dans le mur et je me reprends en main.
Ma douce a son propre combat présentement. J’essaie d’être à la hauteur à ses côtés, avec la même force qu’elle a démontrée en demeurant toujours près de moi. Je ne suis pas facile à endurer. Je suis un gros paresseux, très angoissé. Je l’assume, même si je ne suis pas nécessairement fier. Mais, elle ne m’a jamais lâché, elle a toujours cru en moi. Et bien, je crois en elle aussi. Je la sais capable de surmonter les plus gros obstacles que la vie peut mettre sur le chemin d’un être humain, et je serai à ses côtés jusqu’au bout. Ce n’est pas du courage…c’est de l’amour, le vrai. J’aime cette femme du plus profond de mon cœur. Comme je le lui ai promis à notre mariage, je tenterai d’être digne de son amour pour toujours et à jamais.
Mon amour…J’t’aime tout court…
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