What do you think happens when the soul of a clown and the soul of a poet live together in one human being? Do they live in harmony? Well, while they don’t necessarily fight each other, they wage their own internal wars in opposite corners.

Having that duality within one man, it is a double whammy, folks. Most people wear some sort of mask on a daily basis. That is why when someone asks us “how are you?”, we automatically come back with something like “Fine, and you?”. We don’t really want to share how we feel and we don’t want to know how the other person is doing. That’s OK, though, the person who asked us the question in the first place doesn’t really want to know either.

Well, imagine two masks on one man: words dripping with alcohol and tears buried in laughter. Here it is: the beast that is me.

In this blog, I will share thoughts on my life, on the movies I love, on the music I appreciate and on many other things. Some of it will be in English and some in French, all depending on how the thoughts organize themselves in my head at that specific moment. There will be a little bit of everything. My sense of humour might shock some, so let all of you be forewarned. This is my space and it will fit my reality. If you get offended easily, you might want to look elsewhere.

Having said all of this now, all that is left to do is to officially welcome you to the blog of the clowning poet. Hope you enjoy your visits into my universe.

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!
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