Sunday, December 31, 2006

The Postcard list

This is how it will work. Everywhere I'll be going during my trip, I'll buy a bunch of postcards (if available, of course). Then, I'll walk around, look around, pretty much breathe and live, then I'll sit down and write about what one particular postcard makes me think of, always in this weirdly referencial, comical and pseudo-philosophical way I pretend to write. Each postcard will be unique, either in french or english, with bits of italian to make them sound authentic. Only then, when I'm done writing them, will I decide to whom I send it. Those postcards won't (shouldn't actually, you never know, I might change my mind) be personal. Sure, they'll be personal about me in a way, but they won't be meant for anyone else.

Those who will receive them will own unique creations, and if I ever get famous for some reason or another, they might one day be worth something. So, I guess I'll see you on eBay!

To receive postcards from me, write me an email in which you tell me why I should spend money on you, rather than on anyone else. Leave me an address, and it's likely that I'll send you postcards (not just one, several). The address you give me must be valid, and it should preferably be yours, or the one of someone you know, otherwise you might not receive any postcard at all!

There's no actual limit to the number of people to whom I will mail postcards, so don't worry about not being selected for the postcard list. The only reason why I wouldn't send you postcards would be not having the slightest idea of who you are. If you're a complete stranger, you have never told me a word, either in a comment to my blog, in some form of instant messaging or another recently or way back in the days, or emailed me, or met me in the street, in a fastfood restaurant, in college, high school, kindergarten (I love german words.. I love spy novels... Sicherheitsdienst!!) or on a golf course, then don't bother. We should at least have had some kind of contact, as in a two-way communication where you and I have exchanged structured thoughts towards each other. I'll also accept to send postcard to the cute girl who was sitting on my left in my french class, in 98-99, even though I don't think I've ever told her three coherent words in a row.

That's about it. And remember, people: the sun rises to the east.

Saturday, December 30, 2006

Oh Abitibi!

I just came back yesterday from a short four days trip to Abitibi, a far-off region of the province of Québec. I can't help but feel sad whenever I see all the abandoned houses over there, since jobs are getting scarce. In the village where my grandparents live, I saw two kids walking down the street (actually, one was walking and pulling what I assume was his little brother in a sleigh), and wondered how much they could have living there. The land is desolate. But Abitibi has its beauties, and I enjoy the 11 hours road trip. My motto is: Being bored at home, being bored on the road, I'd rather be going somewhere.

I saw one of my cousins' baby girl. Once more, a baby girl was attracted to me. She kept looking at me. Maybe it's because I didn't shave and I was the only man with a beard out there, so she was wondering what it was. But I prefer to think I'm great with babies. Take notice, women: I'm great with babies.

It seems I'm the only one left without a thing going on in the extended family, except the two younger cousins who are 16 and 13. Even them, I can't count them out, because they've probably had more boy/girlfriends than me by now. But I have nothing. No girlfriend. No family in the making. I hope next time I go over there, I'll have someone to introduce to the family. I don't want to go there alone again, wondering when, wondering who. Always facing the same old questions: when will you bring someone? Is there someone waiting in the wing? Etc.

My grandfather even tried to match me. He was going through all the girls of his village, until he realized there was absolutely no one of my age. Either much too old or much too young. That had the practical purpose of eliminating that village from the list of places to go to find my dream girl.

Also, it was fucking cold.

Monday, December 25, 2006

Christmas IS the dullest day of the year. I'd rather be bored to death right now. On christmas, things taste bitter (not better). I just can't be happy on christmas. I think next year I should spend christmas away, alone perhaps... just kill the time. Maybe even ignore it and only realize I missed it two days later. Even I didn't expect this christmas to be as void of interest as it is.

What's wrong with me?

Sunday, December 24, 2006

And so this is christmas

Just so you know, I got my camera. It works better than I expected. When I get back from italy, I'll burn a DVD of my videos and I'll sell it $20! or not. I'll have to work on the soundtrack, though. I don't have any idea what it will be made of. Probably brit pop for the time I'll spend in england, and obviously not italian music for my time in italy, because italian music sucks. Don't try to convince me otherwise, it just sucks. Romanian pop sounds better than italian music. I'm not talking about opera singing and this kind of thing, which is very well recorded. I'm talking about italian "rock" and pop. I wrote "rock" between quotation marks, because it's actually an insult to rock. They also have a blooming metal scene, but after listening to some of it, it's just as poorly recorded as rock. It's not that they can't play. It just sounds like crap.

Oh right, it's almost christmas... as if I cared. The only thing I enjoy at this time of the year is watching my nieces being all excited. Am I the only one who hates receiving presents? They're often just useless, and when it's something you personally asked for, it's just not exactly the right one. When I need something, I buy it. Why should doing something nice for someone else be a thing of two days a year? Christmas and birthdays are the two yearly focal points around which people concentrate their love and appreciation. Am I just naive and foolish to think that we can be nice, considerate and appreciative a little every day? Don't people care about smiles? A smile can make my day. Damn... even the mere memory of a smile can make my day. Nowadays, people only expect their smiles to come when one unwraps presents on two days of the year. If I was caught in such a relationship, beside the one I'm already stuck in with my family, I just couldn't tolerate it. My rule would be: no present for christmas, just be nice all year long. We just pay too much attention to dates. We miss out on 363 days.

Can you see that I hate christmas? I also hate my birthday. Scheduled love and appreciation. No spontaneity. I deserve and ask for spontaneity. If someone can ever show me this, I'd be truly and wholeheartedly grateful.

Sometimes I have the feeling I'm weird, troubled and sick. But I'm not. I'm truly sane, perhaps one of the only sane people in this world.

You see... christmas ostracizes me.

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Just blurting

Cheap rhyming scheme. I'm so lame, I know.

I'm so obsessed, it's depressing.
I'm so stressed, that's the thing.
That's the paralysis, the shortened breath,
The overanalysis, the slow death.
The problem here, what I must overcome,
Is me.

I'm pathetic, I know. Tonight, I read a quote on her blog, saying: "Stalking is just another way of saying 'I love you'." And on the moment I thought "Yeah, but I'm not a stalker". But I am. I just realized it. I'm a stalker. Everyday, several times a day, I take a look at her blog, waiting for the next words she'll write down. Try to guess where she's at, what she's feeling. Holding on to the non-existent chance that she might give me a shot. I guess she's realized that. I have the feeling she's aware of the fact that I'm obsessed and every word she tells me just inputs energy in this perpetual motion machine of my mind, one that already doesn't need extra energy to remain obsessed. We haven't chatted in a while. She doesn't reply to my emails. Maybe that's the right thing to do. I need not to be encouraged, not to be fueled any more.

But I just can't ignore her. She's been on my mind for over three years. Let's hope running away to italy will heal me. She's my tumor. She's the cause of my atrophy. She's not responsible for it, because it's my fault really, but the cause nonetheless. It's much more than running away from her, though. It's also running towards something else. At this point, anything else. A life, for example. Anyone else. Sadly, it seems to be very difficult to find smart and beautiful (I'm not even that picky on the beauty criterias) women who are going to be interested in me as well.

Am I aiming too high? Should I just settle for less?

But I can't ignore her. Trying to ignore her is just so unrewarding. Perhaps it unrewardingness lies in that I don't actually try very hard. I pretend to try, then fail miserably, perhaps even mingling misery with faint hopes. That's because in being miserable, I wish to share my misery with someone. I often say the only thing humans can truly share is misery. It's the only thing that people are totally, openly and honestly selfish about, therefore able to share without holding anything back.

I'm a dam holding water back. So many things, so much pressure. There's a name, hers, that's been on the tip of my tongue for the last three years now. I'm constantly afraid it might slip out at any moment. If only I could have her in front of me, look into her eyes and tell her: "___, I love you. Sadly." Maybe she could look into my eyes, tell me she's sorry, then turn around and introduce me to her friend who is a hot astrophysician, who has minored in ancient history and is passionate about architecture and baseball, and loves to travel. That could be the greatest day of my life. Am I aiming too high?

I've never found that girl anywhere. I typed "hot astrophysician" in Google and got no result. If Google can't find her, how can I? Should I settle for a non-hot astrophysician, or a hot non-astrophysician? When I relativize like that, I consider myself reasonable when only asking for one girl, this girl, to love me. I'm not aiming too high or too low, and it isn't a question of beauty or astrophysics knowledge. It's just about knowing her and knowing myself, and wanting her and feeling that if I had her, I would never have to ask anything from life, destiny, fate, god or the universe, ever again. I could be content. Happy is a strong word, it's a chemical delusion. But content is fitting. It's appropriate, the way I see it, the way I feel. I feel I could make her feel the same way too. Perhaps I could even create some chemical delusion in her as well.


Ô jeune fille, jette-toi encore dans l'eau pour que j'aie une seconde fois la chance de nous sauver tous les deux!

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Keren Ann
Not Going Anywhere

This is why I always wonder
I'm a pond full of regrets
I always try to not remember rather than forget
This is why I always whisper
When vagabonds are passing by
I tend to keep myself away from their goodbyes

Tide will rise and fall along the bay
and I'm not going anywhere
I'm not going anywhere
People come and go and walk away
but I'm not going anywhere
I'm not going anywhere

This is why I always whisper
I'm a river with a spell
I like to hear but not to listen,
I like to say but not to tell
This is why I always wonder
There's nothing new under the sun
I won't go anywhere so give my love to everyone

Tide will rise and fall along the bay
and I'm not going anywhere
I'm not going anywhere
People come and go and walk away
but I'm not going anywhere
I'm not going anywhere

Monday, December 18, 2006

Back in the frozen hell

I'm back from Boston and I can now officially say that I hate the province of Québec... except for our road indication system, which kicks ass compared to the american one. It's much easier to know where you're at at any time.

When I was at the border, last night, entering Canada, I noticed something. American side: nothing. Canadian side: snow. I hate snow. First thing I saw when I got out of my car, once I got home, was the ice I had to be careful about stepping on. I hate ice... ice in the driveway, that is, because ice can be nice for playing hockey. But it isn't all about winter, which pretty much starts much earlier in Québec than in Boston. It's the city. Boston isn't a dump like Montréal (my opinion). Boston is twice a big as Québec City, yet it doesn't have this overcrowded feeling. I love the buildings, the streets, the park. Even the subways, which aren't the nicest.

Honestly, Boston is a city where I could live for a few years. It wouldn't be a problem for me, if I was to be forced to live there.

This short trip to Boston was just a first taste of this "elsewhere" I've aspired to experience for years. I now feel more ready to face Europe. I'm starting to believe it and to trust myself a little more. Three days in Boston has changed me some. I spent most of these days exploring the city with a man who has survived a cancer he should have died from, and from talking with him, I tweaked the way I think and see the world a little. I may not be such a worrier anymore. I'll worry still, but I don't think it will paralyze me as much, to the same extent.

If I meet such an interesting and important person in each city I visit, I'll be a very different man back from Italy, in two months and a half. Of course, I probably won't meet one everywhere, certainly not every day, but two or three of those could have a significant impact on me.

People, I know it's hard to believe, but I'm now and even greater man than I was last week. It's true.

Don't be afraid of loving me, embracing me. I might just change your life a little as well.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

I'm leaving for my weekend in Boston in less than 12 hours.

Oh the excitement!

See you on Monday!

Monday, December 11, 2006

The Digital Camera saga... what?! It's not over?!

Earlier today, I emailed the company I bought it from for news, good news, and a tracking number for the package, as previously promised by them. They sent me a tracking number... one that wasn't registered anywhere in the postal services database. So I wrote another email. I enjoy writing emails.

¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯

Hi again,
This tracking number suffers from a severe lack of record. By that, I mean that USPS can't confirm, therefore can't track my long awaited camera. The question follows the ":" that follows: What use does a tracking number have when it doesn't track anything? It's basically just a number, which makes me, despite my highly mathematical (and apparently sarcastic) mind, even less happy than I was 10 minutes ago, before I received this "number".

Tell me, can I have this simple and supreme information before I go on and grow pissed by the hour: when, oh when, did you ship the package. I mean, the date, not the moment of the day. For example, if you shipped is on November 30th, I'll know what to expect to a relative extent. I'm all about relative certainty. As Albert Camus wrote: "We're all relatively something". And I'm relatively disappointed.


Relatively yours,

Frank


¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯

I'm pissed.

Life update

Plane tickets : Bought!

January 15th, I leave. January 16th, I'm in Heathrow. A few days later, I'm in Paris. A couple of days later, I'm in Italy!

The mirage is becoming real.

Sunday, December 10, 2006

Confusion of trays

I live in a world of fantasy. I use my imagination to compensate for my lack of experience. The same old world of what-ifs I've been inhabiting for the last... hmm... 19 years, I guess. I can't remember a point in time when I wasn't imagining myself a more interesting life.

I'm pathetic.

I can't stop wondering what my life would be like if some things were different. What if I was 5 inches taller? What if that girl was attracted to me? What if I was more normal? Cross that last one. Should I ever wish such a horrible thing, I should be thrown in an asylum.

I keep dreaming about her, this beautiful, smart, funny girl. Not just daydreaming, which would be in my control, but dreaming, at night, when I don't regulate anything. My blackhole has drawn me to her, and I'll never return. My mind is caught up.

But I'm still trying, hoping, wishing, to find someone else, somewhere. But again, instead of really trying, I try 2% and wonder 98%. The other day, I was ordering some junk food, a galvaude with extra cheese at Ashton's, and there was this girl just before me (actually I was before her, but I waited longer for my change and she got in front of me in the line). She was cute. There were a lot of people and a lack of space, and a confusion of trays in which she was caught. So, I told her something like "This is a jungle", just a comment to deflect attention from the fact I was about to burst in laughter because of her situation. It worked. And she laughed, polite laugh, probably. When I went away with my galvaude and extra cheese, I just kept imagining a conversation with her. You could say I went 2% of the way once again. 98% of imagination relates to 98% of regret.

Just like the girl I dream about. In her case, I probably went 10% of the way. You could call that progress. But it's still 90% disappointment, regret. Imagination is awesome when you're a writer. It isn't so fun when you don't write. I have turned into a confusion of trays in the fast-food of life.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

Quotes of the day

Work is the curse of the drinking classes.
- Oscar Wilde


Everywhere is walking distance if you have the time.
- Steven Wright

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Quote of the day

"There he goes, one of God’s own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind, never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die."

Fear and loathing in Las Vegas

Saturday, December 02, 2006

I am a spy. The truth.

My fascination with spy novels has returned. Maybe, some part of my mind always wished to be a spy. Maybe it's just a reaction to my complete and irrational fear of exploring the unknown. Think about it: I've never traveled. I don't really have a network of contacts. I don't care sharing secrets with people, telling the truth and being 100% authentic. I'm basically the anti-spy!

Or maybe that's what I want you all to believe. I'm Frank by day... who knows what goes on when I'm not online, though.

Now that I have you wondering, look behind you!


P.S. Boo!

Quotes of the day

All of us learn to write in the second grade. Most of us go on to greater things.
- Bobby Knight (a basketball coach who doesn't like reporters)

Accomplishing the impossible means only that the boss will add it to your regular duties.
- Doug Larson

Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent.
- Isaac Asimov

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Quote of the day

"If I wasn't there, I wouldn't laugh much."

- Me, 30 seconds ago.

The trip

My trip is beginning to take shape. It's starting to look real. I have plane tickets prices compared. I have train passes checked up. I have a relative idea of where I want to go. Now, I just need confidence.

Go team confidence!

Monday, November 27, 2006

Why...

Why bring children into this world? The obvious answer seems to be "because it's an excuse for having sex".

To me, personal survival and procreation are part of a contingency plan, just in case one day we find real answers to the mysteries of life. That's why I can't die now. That's why I want children to follow my path. Because if there's an answer, I don't want to be the one who's given up too early.

It's like when a group of people at work buy lottery tickets... you don't want to be the one left out when they hit the jackpot.

Then again, obviously there's the sex.

Song of the day

Weak and powerless - A Perfect Circle

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Chj0km99BbI
How does one hurt his shoulder while sleeping?

Damn, it hurts.

Quotes of the day

There is no pleasure in having nothing to do; the fun is in having lots to do and not doing it.
- Mary Wilson Little

Hard work never killed anybody, but why take a chance?
- Edgar Bergen

2-in-1 is a bullshit term, because 1 is not big enough to hold 2. That's why 2 was created.

- Mitch Hedberg

Sunday, November 26, 2006

This is part of the act of a comedian I just saw on TV:


I went to a clothes store, and the lady asked me what size I was. I said: "Actual".

Later she asked: "If you need anything, my name is Jill."

Wow, it's the first time I meet someone with a conditional name.


¯¯¯¯¯

Just made me laugh.

French revenge post!

Aujourd'hui, j'écris en français pour tous ces turques qui ne veulent pas m'inclure dans leur confidences. Je serais sans doute plein de haine, si je ne trouvais pas ça aussi drôle. Tout le monde me connait bien raciste, en toute évidence. Que ce soit le mépris manifesté envers les anglais, ou même les français... nah... je ne suis qu'un clown.

Maintenant que j'y pense, peut-être devrais-je m'appliquer à l'apprentissage relatif de l'italien. Puisque mon voyage est sensé s'étirer de l'angleterre à l'italie, et que mon anglais et mon français se portent fort bien, je crois que l'italien devra être amélioré.

Et le turque... qu'il aille au diable!

Non mais, sérieusement...


:P

Quotes of the day

Speech is conveniently located midway between thought and action, where it often substitutes for both.
- John Andrew Holmes

Imagination is the one weapon in the war against reality.
- Jules de Gaultier

Song of the day

Fell on black days - Soundgarden

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fbBOfT94NGY&mode=related&search=

Friday, November 24, 2006

Song of the day

Hemorrhage (In my hands) - Fuel

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwMYIJlYiWQ

Weight and letting people do the stuff I'm too lazy to do myself (or what I call "The Canadian way")

I'm impressed... I haven't gained as much weight as I had expected since I finished working. I'm still around 170lbs, while I was around 165 for the last couple of months. Sure, in june-july, I was more around 155, but 170 is alright for no-work weight.

Now people, in your comments you have to make a to-do list for me, regarding my trip to europe. What do I have to take care of from now till the moment I leave. I've already taken care of my passport. what next?



P.S. As I referred to in my title, "The Canadian way" is that in which we can see the true superiority of Canada, over all other nation, because we're so great that we are able to have others do the things we're too lazy to do ourselves, like war or economy.

Such an idiot at times, but rare times, because I'm smart... at least my mom thinks so.

I'm a horrible online consumer... on a consumer's perspective. For an online store, I'm profitable, I suppose.

I'm not that bad. When I buy something online, it's usually a great deal for me, because either I can't find what I want here in Québec, or I find it, but it costs twice as much. It's just this time, with the digital cameras... it just isn't a proud moment for me.

So, I'll wait until I get the second camera, and I'll find myself a place willing to buy a digital camera still in its original package for a reasonable price. Thus, I'll try to limit my loss.

At least, I'll look awesomely cool with my new cooler than cool camera. Considering that I'm already the coolest human being in this room, I can't imagine how revered I will be.

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Quote of the day

What is beauty but that which we can't reach?

- Me (while eating a cheeseburger at McDonald's)

The Digital Camera saga continues...

Yesterday, I committed to buying another camera on eBay.... an even better one, only $20 more. Guess what came unannounced through the mail this morning? The camera I supposedly didn't order last week, but in fact did. How weird... Now, I'm discussing the guy/company I committed to on eBay last night whether we can cancel the commitment or not, even though I'd rather have this better one than the one I got this morning.

Two options:
1) I cancel the latest order and keep the one I have.
2) I go on with the new better one and I try to get as much as I can from a pawn shop. Original package, not even opened.

I guess it will depend on the eBay guy/company's will to break up the contract. It would just be a lot less trouble. Yet, I'd really prefer his/its camera. It's better and it looks cooler (and you all know I'm all about looks). Don't know what to do...

The only thing I know is that I now own a digital camera... and possibly two.

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Quote of the day

I have lost friends, some by death... others through sheer inability to cross the street.
- Virginia Woolf

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Empathy, death of dogs and the quest for the ever-fading hope for the future. Yes, I do like long titles.

Damned be empathy, for it is my curse. I so easily share others emotions that I doubt having any of my own. I've been known to be overly excited in the presence of an overly excited dog (someone just told me last week that she was hit by a car... oh terrible pain!). But most of the time, there's no dog around, except depressed dogs, it seems. Enough with dogs, I don't even like dogs.

I'd need great news from someone close. I don't know, something like cashing in on the winning lottery ticket, a dream come true or something close enough. How can one build upon only negative? How can one build upon depression, disappointment, stress, boredom, fears and hate?

________

"O jeune fille, jette-toi encore dans l'eau pour que j'aie une seconde fois la chance de nous sauver tous les deux!" (Albert Camus)

Monday, November 20, 2006

Spread the happiness!

This is the email I sent to the customer service of the website on which I ordered a digital camera last week (because the one I want is nowhere to be found in Canada). I hope they'll like it.
¯¯¯¯¯

I placed an order for digital camera last thursday and I've been waiting for the oh-so-glorious confirmation email ever since. So, I've had no confirmation, and if I try to track my order through the "Order status" thinggy, it seems that I don't exist at all in your database.
Meanwhile, my credit card has been charged the amount of the bill. I want to make sure that either one of these scenarios will happen: 1) I'm not charged on my credit card and I don't receive the digital camera I ordered; 2) I still get charged, but I do receive the camera I ordered.


Of course, the second option would be terrific, since it's what this site and my order were meant for! I don't know where all of it has been lost, but I'm willing to give you a chance to right the wrong. I'm one not-so-happy customer right now, and I hope things will work out for the best for us all.

Me give you money + you give me camera = Happy people dancing and holding hands and spreading the happiness.

Spread the happiness!


François Gilbert


P.S. Reply through email. I'm in Canada, will save on long distance calls. Also, I'm much more comfortable writing english than I am speaking it. Thanks.

P.P.S Spread the happiness!

Saturday, November 18, 2006

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day

I really can't stay home that much. All I do is sit, reading, playing solitaire waiting for people to log on and chat. Meanwhile, my muscles atrophy and I gain weight. I don't sleep well, so I always feel like napping in the afternoon, but sleeping during the day has never been good to me. I don't breathe as well, I wake up with my heart beating too fast and sweating all over.

I really miss having something to occupy my days, 8 hours at a time. Actually, working took more than just the 8 hours I worked. It also used up an hour before I went to work and an hour afterward. So there, I only had 6 hours a day to try and get bored. I currently have around 17-18 hours a day to fill, and I have nothing to fill it with. What do normal people who don't work do all day long? Oh, right... normal people do not not work. All day long, they work... yes, yes, I see. Then, what do weird people do all day long?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CFy3Un4Z-2Q
Pink Floyd - Time

One of the greatest song ever.


Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an off hand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way
Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun

And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but its sinking
And racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in the relative way, but youre older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death
Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the english way
The time is gone, the song is over, thought Id something more to say

Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
And when I come home cold and tired
Its good to warm my bones beside the fire
Far away across the field
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spells.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Aaaaaaaaahhhhsome.

Just when you think people just don't care, a few words just put the pieces of the puzzle back into place. My puzzle is a five pieces baby puzzle, seeing just how fast pieces are scrambled and put back in order, in a matter of seconds.

Just yesterday I was extremely annoyed by the fact that amazon.com didn't ship electronics to canada, but today, after searching for hours and considering different ways to achieve my goal, I finally discovered a website that does ship digital cameras to canada, and it isn't that much more expensive. I just have to compare a little and think things through, and I think I'll order it tomorrow. Puzzle complete!

Now, the power adapter for my mp3 player... I have two plans left: either buy it while I'm in Boston in december or (and she doesn't know it yet) have a friend in england buy it (because it is sold in england. not in canada... Canada: the most worst country in the world!), then I'll pick it up once I get in england in january. I don't really need it until I get to europe. I can charge it through my USB cable and my computer. I'm not bringing my laptop with me, so I only really need it once I'm over there. Hey you, friend in england, if you read this, it would be nice if you could do this. It's only $40. Give me a bank account number or something and I transfer the money right away. Alright?

Damn... I feel like doing a puzzle.

Aaaaahhhmazon.com

How sucky is it that amazon.com doesn't ship electronics to Canada?! And amazon.CA doesn't even sell electronics. So I can't buy my power adapter for my mp3 player anywhere in Canada or on the internet. Also, I can't buy the digital camera I wanted. Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!!

Fuck it.

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Game of the week

http://www.zanorg.com/prodperso/jeuxchiants/marbeul.htm

oh technology

In the process of buying a digital camera. Also in the process of buying a power adapter for my mp3 player, so that I can charge it off the wall plug instead of plugging via USB connection to my computer. Thus I could cut the charging time from 6-8 hours to... a lot less.. let's say 2 or 3 hours. Also, I'm in the process of buying two extra 2GB SD memory card for my future digital camera, as well as an extra battery.

With all of that technological support, I will be set to leave and travel the world. All I'll need will be the courage to leave.

And to all of you photographers, no, the camera won't be anything really amazing.

Monday, November 13, 2006

preferences and the state of reality in tonight's microworld.

I don't like myself tonight. I didn't like myself today. Will I like myself tomorrow? The Magic 8-ball says so.

I don't believe in God. I don't believe in a god. I don't believe in fate. I don't believe in unknown forces. Magical forces, that is. There are unknown forces, but those are natural. The question here is "What can I rely on?"

What can I rely on? What basis is there for truth? What's right or wrong, if it's only a matter of a divine perception that may not exist? What's a preference if nothing really matters?

I don't like myself tonight, but I don't believe in God. What does that mean? How can I not like myself if there's no true basis for comparison, if I only compare myself with another illusory perception of myself made at another moment, one where I was just a little more naive, more inclined to trust this reality as being real?

Maybe I do like myself after all. Who needs god...

October

My entire month of october was interesting. I'm not talking about any event that may have occured during the month october, although there were a couple of great moments. I'm talking about my blog during the month of october. It was all drug, sex and rock'n roll, but without drug... there was no sex either... and some would argue there was no rock'n roll either. Well, it was good anyway.

I just keep reading my posts of october over and over again. October 19th is an awesome one.

http://franksaysblah.blogspot.com/2006_10_01_archive.html


Make me proud and enjoy. Start from the bottom of the page and read chronologically. It's worth it, if you know me a little. Read it again, when you're done. I'm just that good. You love me. You all. Even you. Don't be shy. You do.

Sunday, November 12, 2006

Lollipop giveaway contest

You know, I have a pretty good idea of where she lives. I've already been there, only I didn't know she lived there at the time. Actually, I didn't even know her at the time. But I know where that is. If I were just a little bit more of a psycho, maybe I would go there. But I'm still relatively sane, so I won't. I'm not a stalker.

You know, I also have a pretty good idea of where the girl I had a crush on in high school now lives. I've already been there, only I didn't know she may have been living in that area at the time. I've walked down that street quite a few times. I miss the days I was pretending to go to college, only to take off and walk all day long. That's how I got to learn the exact street layout of Old Québec City. People driving cars only know the streets they drive on. When I was walking, I knew the streets I walked on and the streets I crossed, because I changed my itinerary every time I went, trying a new street, discovering a new bench, with a new view, a new angle on the city. But at the time, I didn't know where she lived. Had I known, I would probably have gone there to sit on a bench, read a book and wait for her to walk out and notice me... in my dream.

It took me a long time to get over that girl. It's a really, really, really long story. It involves me, her and my dead best friend. I remember the last words I've told her: "It isn't that bad." Try to guess what she told me, so that I would say that.

The winner gets a lollipop.

The lollipop, as usual, will be red.


Lollipop not included. Contest excludes the residents of Québec, Bangladesh and Togo. A mathematical question will be asked to ensure you won't be interested in the contest, because honestly, I don't have any lollipop. I'm just a fraud.

Friday, November 10, 2006

Bill Walsh

The Genius, Bill Walsh has leukemia.

I hear you mumbling: "Who the fuck is Bill Walsh?!"

Before you all go Wikipedia on him, I'll tell you who Bill Walsh is. He's a football coach (I mean, american football, not the real football that we call soccer around here). He doesn't coach anymore, but to me, he will always be the coach. He transformed the role of coach like no one ever did before. He taught the game like no one did before. He analyzed the game like no one had done before. The reason why he was such a great coach isn't his intelligence. He isn't any smarter than any of today's coaches. It isn't his greater experience, or anything. The reason why he was better than others in the 80s... he was just ahead of his time. If he still coached today, he would probably feel perfectly at ease, because things still work the way he invented them, 25 years ago. Go Bill!


I can't help but think about Audrey, my very first friend. I haven't seen her in a couple of decades (damn that makes me feel old... I'm only 23!). My guess is that she died. She had leukemia. She was such a happy person. That's a shame.

What's the biggest shame between being: a) happy and dead or b) unhappy and alive.

When I think about her, I wonder if I should be allowed to live being unhappy, sad and depressed, while she isn't allowed to live, having been just so happy and joyful.

Oh Bill Walsh! What are you doing to me?!

Quote of the day

I'm thirty years old, but I read at the thirty-four-year-old level.
- Dana Carvey

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Out of work

My boss called this afternoon to tell me the year is over. I'm glad it's over, because I'm tired, but I'll miss having something to do. Without it, I wonder how I will get myself to do things, even important things. I have little discipline. We'll see (by "we", I mean "I").

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

"What you did was stupid... I never said it was wrong."

-Quoted from a TV show (Criminal Minds, CBS, Wednesdays, 9pm)

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

I'm a weirdly layered guy. I'm consciously cynical and subconsciously naive. I'm a romantic in denial.

Monday, November 06, 2006

did something

I'll get my passport in 15 days. That's a step forward, isn't it?

Saturday, November 04, 2006

drunk brothers and poor metaphors

Try driving with your drunk brother constantly trying to put the car on neutral on the highway. This is basically a factual and a good metaphorical way to describe how these last few days have been for me. A constant effort not to go on neutral.

My unwillingness to make choices is in a way zen-like, whatever happens happens, but in general, it's just so unmotivating. The problem is that to make a choice, you generally need at least one motivation, and having none, I never know where to start, what to do next. At this moment, the metaphorical incarnation of my drunk brother has just put the car on neutral while I had my right hand on the wheel and the other hand putting on the flasher. I'm going on neutral, slowing down gradually. Paradoxically feeling the road slipping away from underneath my wheels. I'm not really in control.

That metaphor sucks. Good day.

But...
I said good day.

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Thumbs up for nothing

I would really be more encouraged to write if you people commented a little more. Ask me questions. Tell me I'm stupid. Admire me. Hate me. Be as random and irrelevant as you want. I don't care. It's called interaction. Try, it's fun.

Beside the lack of interest, I'm well. Had an ordinary day. Everything seemed just so plain and usual today. A copy of a copy of a copy of any other day. It didn't even get to that surreal point where you start wondering if you hadn't already lived that day and it's just repeating itself over and over again. It was just a nothing-happened-and-I-don't-care day. It reminded me of an episode of Scrubs in which Dr Kelso tells Dr Cox: "What has two thumbs and doesn't give a damn?" Then he points both his thumbs up toward his own face and says "Me!"

Here, now, today... what has two thumbs and doesn't give a damn?

Yes, you're right. Me.

Monday, October 30, 2006

a lost letter

I was looking for a piece of paper, some legal shit, related to my driving license, basically a two years old paper on which I was supposed to find something I had forgotten/lost/had no idea ever existed. While looking for that piece of paper (by the way, I found it, and it's still useless, so don't mind), I found a letter a girl sent me, last year, I think. I just realized that that girl was disturbingly in love with me. I used to think she was only sporadically in love with me, or part-time in love with me, but there was more. I could have been more patient with her, but the truth is that I never was interested in her, really, and perhaps I should not have given her so much to hold on, after all, just to later take it away. The truth is that she never was my type.

She's the last girl I've dated. Were they only dates? I barely remember even touching her. Back to the drawer, forgotten letter. I'll care in a year, when I'll have to look at this drawer again.

drive

For some reason, someone decided I should be allowed to drive.... fools! Ha! I CAN DRIVE! I CAN DRIVE!


Watch out, squirrels!

Saturday, October 28, 2006

The title

The title of my first novel (that has still to be completed) will be...

...drumroll...


This mess I am


It will be great... one day (actually, one day and the days following that day). I've written a little today. It was great. There's still so much work to do. Probably a couple of years, at this rate. I'm in no hurry. I don't care about time. As long as I can survive and write, I'm fine. I accept donations.

Contribute to the Frank Fund today!


Frank, the man who puts the fun into "funds". By the way, Frank is me.

Friday, October 27, 2006

Quote of the day

Happiness is always a by-product. It is probably a matter of temperament, and for anything I know it may be glandular. But it is not something that can be demanded from life, and if you are not happy you had better stop worrying about it and see what treasures you can pluck from your own brand of unhappiness.

- Robertson Davies

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Mental illnesses

We all have our own mental illness, or a bunch of them. In some cases, it's complacency or extreme naivety. In others, it's hopelessness. Actually, anything alienating in any way the pure and rational thought process can be considered as some degree of a mental illness. Those are mnemonic patterns bending our perception of reality, just like a large enough chunk of matter bends the local manifestation of the local properties of that specific part of the universe.

Blah.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

The book

I met the Devil at the park today,
He had the greatest bicycle.
He didn't have much to say
And he melted my popsicle.
¯¯¯¯

I wrote a novel. I often call it a book, just because I had it made into a book by a guy who makes books. It remains to this day the object I've been the most impressed by and attached to. I remember one day, in kindergarten (am I the only one to pronounce this word the german way? I just love it. Kindergarten), we took sheets of paper and a sheet of cardboard, folded them and stapled them together. Later, I went home, and I drew pictures and dictated a story to my father so he could write it down. I was proud. I had made a book, and I knew I wanted to make books. Nowadays, my vision of making books isn't so much making them. I prefer to write them, seeing how words have always easily come by. French, which is a very hard language to master, has always been easy to me. As was english. Now, I can't picture myself finding any peace in any other thing than writing. People are messed up. Work is boring. Having to figure out what to do with my life is stressful. Writing is always the same. Relatively easy. Always soothing.

Aren't books the greatest objects in the world? Not only do they fill a bookshelf nicely, but they also have contents. They have purposes. They have meanings. You can place your entire life in a book. In a large enough room, you can store all the knowledge in the world. On a simple shelf, you can experiences of a range of emotions that most people won't ever experience, because of their narrow-mindedness. Books are tools as well as works of art.

My book was awesome. I carried it with me for a week before giving it away. I had to show it to every aquaintance I met. To every rare friend. To former teachers, even. Even to people I genuinely despise. That book was my holy grail. It was imperfect. I wrote it, revised it and printed it so fast that I left millions of errors in it, errors that I later corrected and now am ashamed of. It was imperfect, but I guess I couldn't love something perfect. How could I believe in something perfect? It's illogical. Perfection is illogical, irrational. And I'm logical and rational. Therefore, in a way, I wanted...no, I needed my book to be imperfect in order to achieve the near-perfection, to get the almost perfect reaction. I still debate with myself whether it was a good thing to give the book away. But I had to. In return, I received a double-hug. You know, that hug when someone is supposed to let go, starts to let go, then hug even tighter for 2 or 3 seconds. My favorite memory, my near-perfect memory. That near-perfect moment. That near-perfect reaction. All of that, because of an imperfect book, which still remains my greatest accomplishment, the greatest object I've ever held. My holy grail.

I've started to write the sequel, and when I'll be done, I'll print it again, revised and ready, and I'll take it to the little old guy who turned the original novel into the greatest book ever made, and I'll make this one into my book. This one won't be hers. Not this time. It will be mine, hoping it will mean as much to me as the first one did. Hoping its near-perfection won't annoy the hell out of me.

You have no idea how much books mean to me.

Monday, October 23, 2006

Stuff

I really need to start moving, to do something with my life. Get out of here. Next week, I'll get that driving license, which will allow me to leave whenever I want. I will finally be able to do the things that need to be done, but for which I can never find any time. I have a few plans. I had plans three weeks ago as well, and those had to be thrown out the window, but some of them can be recycled.

I need to go. I hate Canada. Oh hypocritical Canada! Oh very sad Québec! I shouldn't be insulting places. I can insult any country or continent, if i want to. Oh corrupted Italy! Oh two-faced France! Oh plastic USA! Oh drunk Ireland! Just kidding... I guess I could with time and effort find one sober irish. Don't we just love the irish?! Oh Fighting Irish!

Talking about Fighting Irish, Jeff Samardzija is a freak.

Sunday, October 22, 2006

Quote of the day

There's a fine line between fishing and just standing on the shore like an idiot.
- Steven Wright

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Give a man too much time to think and he will think too much.

Me, 15 minutes ago (actually, I came up with it six days ago).

The Magic 8-ball saga goes on...

I keep asking the magic 8-ball the same two questions: "Will she one day be with me?" and "Are your answers worth anything?" It keeps answering positively to the former and negatively to the latter. So, basically, it tells me what I want to hear, but reminds me it's just bullshit.

My burning obsession has become more of a calm obsession, like a residual obsession. Last week, I met her. It was fun. We spent an hour walking and talking. We didn't talk about anything, really. Just whatever came up to mind. I made her laugh, she made me laugh. It's pretty much as much fun as I can possibly have. There's something extremely rewarding in making a pretty girl laugh, you know. It was only one hour, but it was probably what I had needed for a couple of years now. I now wonder if it wasn't all that time we spent without seeing each other, just emailing and chatting every now and then, that turned a friendship into an obsession. Give a man too much time to think and he will think too much (to be quoted).

I had to be reminded of that friendship, of that fun, to calm the obsession. For the first time, it didn't feel awkward. Perhaps it was because we were walking, and I had a reason not to look at her, this time (I usually like to look ahead, in case I'd walk into something that would like nothing more than hurt me, like a wall or a cliff). I say it didn't feel awkward... it didn't for me. I suppose it was a little for her. Imagine walking and talking with a guy, and you know that guy is or at one point has been in love with you, and you never know if or when you'll have to confront feelings that aren't yours, but in spite of you concern you.

It's nice to know that every once in a while, she cares enough about me to accept to spend some time with me when I'm somewhere between depression and distress, just like last week. The few days before and after october 12th are always tough. These are days I want to spend with people who will pay attention to me, and not in a "hey look at me" kind of way. More in a "hey, it's for you today" kind of way. She did it for me. I'll thank her, one day.

I wonder if she realizes how important she can be. Maybe not all the time, and assuredly not for everyone. But every day, in something she says, in something she does. I'm sure every day she impacts others lives, if only a little. But she just doesn't know it.

That's the kind of thing I know. That's the kind of things I'm sure of. I'm way more reliable than Magic 8-balls... oh! the blasphemy!

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Can anyone prove, without a doubt, that I'm not the greatest guy in the world?


Didn't think so.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

I asked the Magic 8-ball if I was an hopeless fool and it said "You can rely on it."

Yay!

As Bobby Blue Bland sang: "If looooooooooooooooooooving you is wroooooooooooooong, I don't want to be right."

Monday, October 16, 2006

laws break down

That fucking magic 8-ball keeps saying the same thing, over and over. It's defying the laws of probability right now. It's not a 51%/49% ratio. It's a 98%/2% ratio. I have asked it close to 50 times (I don't know the exact amount), and it said "no" only once so far.

If I can't believe in something as reliable as the laws of probability, how can I believe this world is real? Laws can't, or shouldn't, break down for me. I'm the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world (but I don't either sing or dance). I don't even care about myself or what happens to me. Why would the entire universe, through a magic 8-ball, care about me enough to change the laws of probability in my favor?

If you're waiting for a sign, try asking a question to a magic 8-ball. It will change your life forever.

Sunday, October 15, 2006

My Magic 8-ball said...

My Magic 8-ball said I had a chance. I asked it several times, and 90% of the times, I get a positive answer to questions like "Will she one day change her mind?" or "Will she one day be with me?". If the Magic 8-ball says it, it has to be true.

I should tell her what the magic 8-ball has said. She'll realize she just can't fight it, or prevent it. It WILL happen. She just doesn't know it yet.

Wait a second, I'll ask again... "Will I make her happy?"... "Cannot predict now"... dammit... I'll try again... "Yes - definitely." !!!

Again. No kidding. The Magic 8-ball said it.



P.S. I don't believe in fate, in any god or in horoscopes, but I do take Magic 8-balls really seriously.

Saturday, October 14, 2006

Wrong era

Blank.

I want to write, but I feel like the only things I have in mind are the same old complaints about life and love and boredom. I guess that's the product of five years of celibacy. Give a man too much time to think and he will think too much.

I was reading old emails today. I read one email that said something like: "There's nothing more important than human relationships. Image and style don't matter. Relationships are all that is real and important."

I wish that could be true. But it isn't. Image does matter, and style. Our minds are conditioned since we were born to like things better than others. Even I, being the greatest guy in the world, being the all-understanding, all-giving, prince of this world, am influenced by image as well. Sure, I don't give too much importance to clothes and all, but a nice girl who doesn't attract me probably won't get a shot.

That's the only reason I can think of why I don't get a shot, myself. Up to this point, nothing has ever led me to believe I am not, in fact, the greatest guy in the world. So technically, I would deserve a great or less than great girl. Why can't I get the girl?

Is it because there's only one I want, and I'm just not her type? Image, style... behaviors even, perhaps. I'm just not what people look for in a man. I'm a man who would have been right in his place in another place, in another time. Firenze, 1303. Oh man... how prized a catch would I be...

how sad

My last two hugs received were by the same person, and almost two years apart. How sad is that?

Desperation

Anyone wants to come to italy with me, and kick my ass along the way?

I get the feeling that I won't make it if I don't get a huge kick in the ass. I'm too lazy. Too scared. Too careless.

I can even loan money, extremely low interest rate (like 0%). You could pay me back $20 a week on a long time period. Something like a thousand dollar a year, for as many year as needed. I'm so desparate, so afraid that I will never be able to do it.

Or someone just take me by the hand. Force me to buy a plane ticket. Something.

Friday, October 13, 2006

I almost had something to say

Human soul appears to be a residue. It's the excess of our consciousness.

I have no idea where I wanted to go with this. I'm not even sure it makes sense for those who aren't in my head. And those who are in my head, what the hell are you doing in there?!
This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time.
Chuck Palahniuk

Thursday, October 12, 2006

deaths

Even though I had an interesting day, I still wish I wasn't alone tonight.

An aura of death hovers around most of the people I've considered friends at one point or another. It starts with my very first friend, whom I presume to be dead by now. Then, Éric, the best friend who committed suicide. The list goes on. I don't want to get into it much more, because there's someone on that list I'm trying not to think about at the moment.

At times I've wondered whether I attracted people who were likely to die or if I was attracted to people who were likely to die? In Audrey's case, my very first friend, how could I only know she was going to have leukemia and eventually die... no way I could be aware of it at that time. Let's just call it a coincidence. Or maybe I'm just looking for death around me more than most. Perhaps everybody has that friend who committed suicide, that other friend who had a disease or that other friend who died in a car crash. Perhaps tons of people have all three of those, just like me, but they just don't make as big a deal about it as I do. I feel like these deaths will always be with me, that I will always keep them close to me. In a dream, I named my first child Audrey. I suppose that in that dream, my first baby boy would have been Éric. The third? I don't know. There are names I absolutely want to avoid.

I don't want to sleep alone tonight. My bed feels like a coffin. I hate october 12ths.

hey

How awesome is that?! Yesterday I wrote that I didn't want to work today. This morning I asked my Magic 8-ball if this was going to be a good day, and it said "Most likely". Guess what? My boss called at 6am to tell me not to show up, because of the rain. How cool is that?!

Oh, phantom of Éric, working for me, you kick so much ass!!

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

I don't want to work tomorrow

Tomorrow will be the sixth anniversary of my best friend's suicide. I usually consider that event as the beginning of my acceleration towards insanity. I was already on a gentle slope before, but from that moment, it became steeper than I could handle. I started having intense issues with people, dealing with them, just being with them. I became more and more anxious every day, until I could just find an original way to give up. I've never really given up the same way. I wouldn't let myself do that. I always had to surprise people, to shock them a little. Each time, it was a message I sent, saying: "Fuck your expectations, world, fuck it!"

I worked on disappointing people ever since, because anything short of pure admiration wouldn't be enough, and I'd rather just be overlooked, underestimated, underappreciated, than being just another ordinary guy. Duality, again. The truth is that I, myself, can't stand being in the middle of the pack. I've always described myself as an observer, a character on the edge of a painting, out of focus, barely noticeable, looking at the scene without apparent interest. It gives me a sense of superiority. It usually means that I'm not the victim of any given event, since I'm not active in any of these events.

This is my downward spiral of passivity. It started 19 years ago. It prevented me from preventing my best friend's suicide, six years ago. It's preventing myself now from getting the very admiration I crave. But honestly, am I not spectacular in my disappointing kind of way?

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

spasmic memories

I see people every day that I probably won't really remember in a year from now. Only occasionnally will I think about them, a bubble in the space-time continuum. They will come back like spasms and will leave me mostly unchanged, but some other times, a little fazed. Yep.

I feel like a bit of a psycho

Sometimes I get the feeling that I'm either the most intelligent man in the world or the stupidest (and the most naive) one. I'm more realistically somewhere in between, but I guess the conscious mind needs to rely on an extreme. During the last 3 or 4 last centuries, we've developped binary languages that today are used to communicate with computers.

But along the way, we've also discovered that our minds work a bit of the same way, only that we don't call it binarity, we call it duality. It's either day or night (dawn is so inappropriately ignored). It's either black or white. Good or evil. God, the Devil. Love, hate. Yes, no. Nothingness, infinity.

But really, to what extent we are either one or the other of two poles is so hard to tell that we end up just claiming the closest one as ours. There are no socio-capitalists. Those right in the middle are generally called capitalists and are despised. I'm harder to define I guess, in that I call myself a capitalist, and I encourage capitalism, yet I don't buy stuff, I don't consume much, I don't pride myself in owning anything and give little to no worth to material possession. Yet, the money I have saved, I wouldn't want to share it with everybody. I would only share it with the people I deem worthy. Maybe one day, I will own nothing, but I'll die with an morbidly obese bank account and some lucky people will inherit an interesting amount of money (these people are still to be selected). Or maybe that I could be willing to give some of my money so that someone I love can achieve something important, or merely for surviving. I've been known to loan money to people who couldn't pay their rent, for a month (which reminds me, that guy still owes me money... on the to-do list).

I got a bit off-topic there... wait, did I really have a topic? Duality? No, that was already part of the digression. Psychosis, according to the title? A little. I think we can agree on the fact that I'm abnormal. Psychotic, not really. Psychotic is a little extreme, and as I've explained, I'm probable somewhere between sane and insane, just like anybody else. But seeing where I am, the balance is slightly tilting towards insane.

I just realized something really relevant to what I'm doing here: I don't actually have anything to say.

Saturday, October 07, 2006

I love scientific metaphors

Inertia wraps us up, drags us down... yet we're not even together. We are at the same location, at the same time, but we're in separate dimensions.

As much as I love hyperdimensional physics, I love my hyperdimensional relationships. My despair is the superstring I'm strangling myself with.

Disconnected. Out.

Repetition of an already posted quote. I can do that.

"If I did have a tumor, I'd name it Marla."

Fight Club


Those who wonder about relevance, you have no idea how relevant it is.

Friday, October 06, 2006

The pad

I have a notepad half filled with thoughts about her. I'm insane. I'm still filling that notepad.

I can't stop it

I absolutely had to quote that. God bless Isaac Asimov.



Q. Can the future be changed, Dr. Seldon?
A. Obviously. This courtroom may explode in the next few hours, or it may not. If it did, the future would undoubtedly be changed in some minor respects.
Q. You quibble, Dr. Seldon. Can the overall history of the human race be changed?
A. Yes.
Q. Easily?
A. No. With great difficulty.
Q. Why?
A. The psychohistoric trend of a planet-full of people contains a huge inertia. To be changed it must be met with something possessing a similar inertia. Either as many people must be concerned, or if the number of people be relatively small, enormous time for change must be allowed. Do you understand?

-from the Trial of Dr. Seldon in Isaac Asimov's "Foundation"

¯¯¯¯¯¯

I stole that quote from Mary. I don't think Mary has any idea who I am though.
http://www.infornographer.com/

And the QTR (Quote Theft Ring) strikes again!

Quoting myself again. Great or pathetic? Both!

"There's a reason why I don't want to be clear. That reason remains unclear... how paradoxical!"


Me

Just saying

I feel like crap today. Is it that pain on the entire left side of my upper body? Maybe. Is it that self-limiting obsession I have? You know, the one I can't get over and move on from. Just think about it. You get it now? No?! What the fuck!? There's a reason why I don't want to be clear. That reason remains unclear... how paradoxical! I'll have to quote that one later (yes, as I proved in the past, I'm egocentric enough to quote myself).

I feel like crap because my mind again is paralyzed. Ok... I won't write it in an email or in a chat, so if you (and I hope you know who is you, otherwise, it might be confusing) read this accidentally, I can't be held to full responsibility. Here it is: all I do is think about you. When I go to bed. When I dream. When I wake up. When I work. When I listen to music. When I write. When... well, there are more disgusting occurences of me thinking about you, but I don't need to name them (and by disgusting, I don't mean it in that sense, rather that other more disgusting sense, that is completely natural, by the way). It's driving me insane.

Sorry for the millions at home who don't understand.

I'm part of the quote theft ring

If you want to really hurt your parents, and you don't have the nerve to be gay, the least you can do is go into the arts. I'm not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practising an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.

- Kurt Vonnegut

Thursday, October 05, 2006

I was ready to pass the test, but my car wasn't. It failed the inspection. Damn. I'm so pissed. I'll have to wait until october 30th to do it. I had plans. They're all going to hell now. Fuck it.

Quote of the day

It's no longer a question of staying healthy. It's a question of finding a sickness you like.
Jackie Mason
I had never been nervous before a test. I didn't sleep last night. Is it what everybody feels before an exam or is it just my fear that I might just kill someone with a car?

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

3 libras again

I will never say it enough, that song is great.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EnYPimATnUo

Game of the week

http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/40255643/

Try to get the dude to do a full loop.

Energy of the vacuum

Human psyche is an open system. It can be influenced by unknown energy inputs, and everything changes within the psychological entity without its conscious owner be the least aware of it. Imagine millions of subconscious psychological patterns, all intertwined, mutually influenced and influencing. The human spirit is the most dynamic entity I can think of, because it can think about itself. What the universe lacks is consciousness. It is an infinite pile of small complexities all interconnected to some extent, and while we can't really grasp all the interconnectedness of it yet, we can imagine what it is like. That's this ability to hypothesize that separates us from the wonders of the universe. Intelligent life IS the greatest wonder of the universe. An intelligent form of life like us WITH imagination IS the greatest wonder of the universe. Just imagine a race of ultra-advanced aliens with no sense of humor...

Sure, our minds can create evil, can create sadness, fear and hopelessness. But our minds, being open systems, can be structurally modified through the input of an external source of energy. External to our minds, maybe even external to our dimension. But being a part of this universe, a very important part of this universe, we can use the thread of the universe to sow our wounds shut. We can extract out of the vacuum what ties us all together. A source of energy impossible to understand. One one can only imagine. But it is there. It runs through every dimension, taking something here to bring it there. It provides energy to every system, whether they are blackholes or reactions to a tear or a smile, and prevents them from collapsing under the weight of the ever increasing chaos.

It is believed that we can consciously tap into that river of energy, that not only can we use its energy, but that we can also use it to communicate with any other ion in the universe. Parallelly, it is believed that human DNA can be structurally modified by strong emotions. Just imagine killing that cancer with a smile, fighting that depression with a laugh.

In nihilism some people see the downfall of human spirituality. I see in nihilism the liberation of the mind from the patronizing of religions and politics. The universe is beyond that. I see in a new nihilism the union of history and progress. In the vacuum lies our true power. In our minds lie the key to open the door.

Monday, October 02, 2006

Entropy

According to the Laws of Thermodynamics, entropy, the measure of the disorder in a closed system, and its direction -- toward increasing disorder -- cannot be reversed. This theory is not in question, even when the nature of closed systems is at issue. The increase in entropy is contained in the Second Law of Thermodynamics, and effectively states that the arrow of time (time theoretically being one-directional) requires everything to proceed toward ever increasing chaos, such that all structures are ultimately doomed.

However, in an open system, there can be an influx of energy into the system capable of reinvigorating the structure -- in full accord with the Second Law of Thermodynamics. Energy input can decrease entropy, and can simultaneously increase order. Furthermore, the more structured a system, the more energy is required to increase the structure, or even to maintain the status quo -- what in physics is termed “equilibrium”.

Entropy is not purely a physics term. It can also be applied to everything from gardens to societies. Gardens, for example, which are extremely ordered, i.e. all tomato plants, are highly susceptible to disorder simply because one tomato bug could do in the whole garden. But when the garden has a multitude of different plants, then there is greater stability. Less order implies greater stability. More order implies greater instability, unless there is an energy input into the system. Societies which are highly regimented need a massive input of energy (covert and overt police/laws on every corner, propaganda and public relations for every contingency, and the tools to accomplish all of the above). These are the basic requirements just in order for the society to continue to function. In effect, the more laws a society or culture has, the more energy is needed to fuel the laws’ enforcement, and the greater the instability of the society. Which is why communism in Russia failed to keep up with the rest of the world.

¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯

http://www.halexandria.org/dward145.htm

I can quote too

Oh name for ever sad! for ever dear!
Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear.

[...]

O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads,
And drink the falling tears each other sheds;

¯¯¯¯¯¯
Eloisa to Abelard, Alexander Pope

Sunday, October 01, 2006

I'm fate's bitch and I feel so used.

Friday, September 29, 2006

Part 2, Chapter 1:

[...]
It’s astounding how little we care about the fact that our lives are often dictated by the routine of some unsuspecting strangers. They live their lives as usual, as if there were never going to be any consequences to their acts for some unsuspected stranger. We’re billions of individuals running blind in a never-ending tunnel, only occasionally encouraged by someone else’s good fortune.

¯¯¯¯¯¯

I just wrote that tonight. Please, someone talk to me. I'm really bored. I need motivation to write, and right now, no one's encouraging me.

Numbness and quotes

I still have that weird feeling I had yesterday, being out of myself, not feeling reality the way it should be, or the way I'm used to. I don't like feeling disconnected for so long. I like to be in control of my body, of my perceptions. But now, I just feel like going to bed, even though I know I won't sleep at all. I'm just sitting here still, and the only parts of my body that are moving are my hands and eyes. I look around, searching for something perhaps, something that is nowhere to be found here, for sure. I move my fingers to type, the rest of my body only moving when it has to follow my fingers to the extremities of my keyboard. My head is slightly tilted to the right, I haven't moved my feet for so long I'm considered physical re-education before even daring to stand up again.

I hate that. I want to feel energized. I'd like to be hugged too. I need some comfort and some warmth. A hug is like being in a bed, but standing up. Lying in a bed with someone would also be a very (very very very) nice thing.


Here are a couple of interesting quotes for today:

I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me.
Noel Coward

What can you say about a society that says that God is dead and Elvis is alive?
Irv Kupcinet

Thursday, September 28, 2006

me

Maybe I'm just egocentric, but I really think my blog is fascinating and worth reading. But maybe it's just me. I've always enjoyed reading things I've written in the past. There are things that make me say "I can't believe I wrote that". Other things make me say "Wow... I wrote that?! That's good". Or mayve it's just me.


Song of the day, "She's electric", by Oasis (in this live version, it's Noel singing, not Liam, unfortunately. Liam's a jackass, but such a performer).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1CVJD67nIr8&mode=related&search

Dear Diary, let me tell you about my day...

I feel like I'm out of myself, as if I was floating just an inch over my skin. There, I just hit myself to make sure I still felt something. It took me four punches just to really feel something. The first three attempts were merely a confirmation that a physical contact had occured. It feels as though I couldn't tell the difference between a caress and a slap (which can both be considered as gestures expressing affection, especially during undefined activities (see previous entry)).

All day long, I've been floating around, my feet never really touching the ground. Sure, I was driving a cart, so my feet weren't touching the ground at all, but trust me, there's something more metaphorical about it as well. I worked like a machine, doing tasks pre-programmed in my brain that didn't require any mental input whatsoever. I was going places I had been hundreds of times, places I could find with my eyes closed, had I tried. My mind was elsewhere. I don't know exactly where, though. It wasn't in Italy. It wasn't in BC. It wasn't in Québec City. It wasn't in St-Michel-de-Bellechasse. It wasn't in Boston. It wasn't in London. It wasn't in South Bend, Indiana. It sure wasn't in Breakeyville.

I was nowhere. I did nothing. I felt nothing. I ate a tasteless poutine. I wrote a meaningless sentence on a piece of paper, which still turned out to be the most productive thing I've done all day. Hell... all week!


"I'm all for dead-end relationships" says Seth to Audrey. "One could argue that even a successful marriage technically is a dead-end relationship."


That was my day.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Personal ad

23 years old immature man with social deficiencies looking for hot female astrophysician, preferably still alive and fertile for long walks and hardcore undefined activities.

Emails and bunnies

I haven't written an email in three weeks. I used to write a couple every day. I always liked writing emails. It's such an interesting medium. You can make an artwork out of an email. You can inspire people with an email. You can make someone's day brighter. That is one thing I've always been extremely good at. Making people feel good about themselves (except in a few occasions where I made people feel like total crap).

It starts from a thought, then it unfolds as a story. Finally, the poetry of the compliment wraps you in warmth. It just feels like a sunday morning, staying in bed late into the day, not sleeping, just being comfy and generally well. My emails are a blanket of words, keeping your mind warm, protected for as long as you'll be able to stay there, remain separated from the world, willfully ignorant.

People just don't email me anymore. I don't email people much either, because it seems as though nothing good for me ever comes out of it. I'm the giver who's never given anything.

Who'd give to a creepy guy like me?


Someone's boring me. I think it's me.
Dylan Thomas

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Limits

I sometimes feel like the only limits to what I can do are my own prejudices and fears. Sometimes... no, I mean, all the time, I feel like that. Maybe one day someone will quote me (do it!). The only limits to what I can do are my own prejudices and fears. Sounds good.

I dream of a life in which I'm a published writer and an eternal student. I want to study ancient history and ancient languages. Some more modern languages as well. Re-learn and improve my german. Learn russian. Chinese. Arabic (if I spoke arabic, I could get a job at the Canadian Security Intelligence Service with a really good salary... not interested). I would also like to study astrophysic. What a thrill.

I would like to coach a baseball team too. Teach kids the passion of the game and the secret of an injury-free career and the best curveball in the world. I would like to be an assistant coach on a football team. Would be great.

I would like to take long walks. I'd like to have a lot of free time.

Honestly, how many of these dreams are realistic? At once, I mean. Sure, each one, individually, is well within reach. But all of them? Are there enough hours in a lifetime for that? Maybe I could coach a baseball team from 30 years old to 35, then be a football assistant coach from 35 to 40. I could learn languages at the same time. I could publish between 25 and 30, and a few others over the next 40 years. I could go back to college at 40 to study ancient history and languages.

In the end, I guess the solution would be to meet a rich girl. Money buys time. Money can eliminate some of the fears. With fears mostly gone, prejudices don't interfere as much with your thought process. Finally the self-imposed limits exist no longer. Suddenly I can do whatever I want. Suddenly, I'm a man no more. I've risen above the ground. I'm a blackhole around which all that is revolves. I attract knowledge. I absorb concepts. I understand so much that I become incomprehensible. People will only know I'm there, but won't ever be able to see me or touch me, unless they want to be sucked in and live the thrill of the unknown and unexplainable.

Come live the thrill.

Friday, September 22, 2006

The events of the next few weeks will determine what I will do next year. The events of this winter will further determine what I will do next year and over the next several years. I give myself until 2010 to get an idea of what I want to do with my life, really, unless things align themselves naturally meanwhile, or unless I knock a girl up and get stuck in a dead-end. Just kidding.

I want to take the next few years to travel. See bits of the world. Find my place perhaps. Get out of my comfort zone. Re-discover myself.

In 2010, chances are I'll be in British Columbia. Kelowna, perhaps. I have a job there waiting for me. I have friends there waiting for me. I have free golf there waiting for me. I have moutains and fresh air there waiting for me. But not now. I have more important things to do, more interesting things to see. I have people to meet. I have experiences to live.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Birthday

Oh, before I forget. I'd like to wish a happy birthday to that girl that I haven't seen in more than three years, that I met 7 years ago, walking around during a thunderstorm. That was an awesome day, perhaps the wettest day of my life prior to getting a job on a golf course.

I know she isn't reading this, but Happy Birthday anyway!




P.S. Yes, I do have that kind of awesome memory, which allows me to remember the anniversary of people who probably don't even remember me.

Pathetic post of the week

At one point, she told me: "Thinking of you getting worse makes me think of me getting worse, and I can't stand the thought of someone feeling that." She doesn't realize that I feel like that every day. I just can't stand the thought of her being numb, being scared, being confused... just being overly fragile. It makes me weak as well. It makes me unstable. It confuses me a little. It highlights my own numbness. I could just stop thinking about her, move on and build something new. I theoretically "could" stop thinking about her, but practically, it's much harder. The only way I know not to think about her is to think about something else, preferably someone else.

Where could I find a new obsession? Is there someone else in this world I would write a book for? Is someone else in this world worthy of me spending nearly three years and a half thinking about her? Maybe I'm just sick, a sociopath, a delusional, a retard of some kind. Sure, we're all retards in our own ways. Me... I'm just a social retard. It's not that I can't or don't know how to meet people. It's just that I don't wanna. When people disappoint me, I don't always give them another chance. Perhaps I'm too picky. I'm expecting people to impress me in some regard. Where has my fascination with small details gone? Didn't I use to fall in love with a girl just because she was reading on the bus (it depended on the book, of course)?

Give me a shy girl reading a book, just to see if I can still fall in love, just like that.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

something

The lack of reciprocity has always annoyed me, but that's generally something very common when so far in your exploration of life and the universe, you remain one of a kind. You end up falling in love with the first imperfect reflection of the illusion of yourself that you wear as a mask.

Sometimes people carry to such perfection the mask they have assumed that in due course they actually become the person they seem.
W. Somerset Maugham


Have I played the freak act so long that I've now become one? Or was I one to begin with? Was I normal then and am I normal now without even being aware of it? Is doubt worth the time I invest in it?

Certainties:

  1. I want to be elsewhere. Anywhere;
  2. I want to write more than anything else;
  3. I want to be loved;
  4. I want to know everything, understand everything;
  5. and many more.

Why is it that every time I see the words "many more", I think "Mandy Moore"? Oh.. is it the rhyme?!

Saturday, September 16, 2006

Quote of the day and an attempts at breaking that boredom streak

A great many people think they are thinking when they are really rearranging their prejudices.
William James

¯¯¯¯¯¯

Blah. I just can't do it. Just bored. Nothing comes up. I'm helpless.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!

Does anybody really think I actually yelled?

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Oh... and a few quotes.

This is the title of the second chapter of the third part of the novel I'm writing:

"The non-cosmological tale of a supermassive asshole"

I want to write so much. Now, I just need to get some time away from home to concentrate a little. It's going to be a great story. Writing is my drug. I'm partying hard. I'm weird.

Quotes of the day:

We're not lost. We're locationally challenged.
John M. Ford

Did you ever walk into a room and forget why you walked in? I think that's how dogs spend their lives.
Sue Murphy

I think I may have already quoted one or both of these quotes... I'll have to check.

Friday, September 08, 2006

meh

I'm vulnerable, yet strong. I'm so fucking stubborn, too.

I'm lonely. I don't like people. I like people who are far away, people who give me time to think before I build my sentences and write them in a chat window.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Go!

It's my twin nieces' birthday today. Happy birthday girls!

Yes, I'm an uncle. Sounds weird, when I think about it. I barely have one toe in the door of life, and I'm uncle to 3 years old twins. I guess one day I might just say: "Seems weird, when I think about it. I barely have a foot across the door of life and I already have a kid."

I don't see that day coming soon, though. It's not that I don't like kids. It's not that I don't trust myself on that regard (raising children and all). It's just that I don't see how I could find the woman that will have these kids with me. I can't see how anyone could stay long enough with me to actually have a baby. I can't even see the whole flirting, dating and exploring part. I don't flirt. I don't date.

Why wouldn't a girl ask me out for a change? I think I'm pretty good at asking out. I asked out three girls and all three accepted and went on a date with me. I'm good. That's 100%. A+. But, every time, there's disappointment. The date goes wrong. The girl goes wrong. Nothing goes wrong, but nothing's really right to begin with. Now, I just don't ask girls out and don't go on dates. I skip all the stress and cut on the disappointments.

I want a girl to show interest in me, just once, just to see what it's like. Oh, it happened to me before. That annoying girl I've dated three times was sporadically interested in me. But it wasn't enough. And she was annoying. There's also a little girl. When I was 18, there was this girl, perhaps 14 years old, who was madly in love with me. I was the worst kept secret ever. So much that I shouldn't even be calling it a secret, not even in a lesser degree. She had told everyone but me, but everyone told me, and I could see it anyway. That's not the kind of interest I'm looking for. I'm looking for curiosity and desire.

Curiosity and desire, people! And someone who's willing to make the first step. Now, spread the word, look around and find me a woman!

Go!

Sunday, September 03, 2006

Music videos of the day

3 libras - A Perfect Circle
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EnYPimATnUo

Awesomest cheesy song... is it the keyboard? Is it the sax? Is it the silly video? I don't know, but I love it. Dreaming of you - The Coral
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YtvGHE0RkP4

Quotes of the day

It's very frustrating to always have the answers to every question, yet still feel stupid.
Me
I haven't taken any step in any direction, yet I feel I'm already going the wrong way.
Me again

The non-step towards catharsis

I feel like I should write some. I need the cathartic powers of words right now. But how? What to say? Let's improvise.

I've been listening to a lot of blues lately, especially Bobby Bland. Cry cry cry, (If loving you is wrong) I don't want to be right, I pity the fool, Stormy Monday Blues, Ain't nothing you can do, etc. It's probably not the best thing to do when you're depressed. It reminds me that time I was really down and I listened to 3 Slipknot albums one after another. That wasn't really cheerful. Don't worry, I didn't try to kill myself after that.

I would never try to kill myself. I'm far too afraid of hurting myself. It's stupid how I'm annoyed and constantly complain about stupid little pains, like my back, my wrist or my shoulder. Those are just the result of me not taking enough care of my body. I've done a lot of sports in my life, but I've never warmed up and stretched before. So I got injured and I never really gave it time to heal completely. So, my back has hurt for close to 10 years, my shoulder for 6 years and my wrist for 5 months. The worst thing is that I know exactly what I'd have to do to get rid of it, but I'm just too lazy. I lack discipline. It's very frustrating to always have the answers to every question, yet still feel stupid.

Whoa... I'll have to quote myself after this entry.

Is the catharsis complete? I guess not. I don't think it has even started. I haven't taken any step in any direction, yet I feel I'm already going the wrong way.

Whoa... I'll have to quote myself again after this entry.


End entry.

Friday, September 01, 2006

Thursday, August 31, 2006

I deserve so much more.

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Quote of the day

I once thought I had mono for an entire year. It turned out I was just really bored.
Wayne's World

Friday, August 25, 2006

Best quote ever

My favorite quote of all time:

"La bonne bête ou l’homme de génie sont seuls capables, l’un par faiblesse, l’autre par force, de cette égalité d’humeur, de cette douceur constante dans laquelle se fondent les aspérités de la vie. Chez l’un, c’est indifférence et passivité; chez l’autre, c’est indulgence et continuité de la pensée sublime dont il est l’interprète et qui doit se ressembler dans le principe comme dans l’application. L’un et l’autre sont également naïfs; seulement, chez celui-là c’est le vide; chez celui–ci c’est la profondeur."

Honoré de Balzac

German quotes of the day

Noch zwei Tage, und das Morgen hat vor 24 Stunden begonnen.
Heinz Erhardt

Zwei Dinge sind unendlich, das Universum und die menschliche Dummheit, aber bei dem Universum bin ich mir noch nicht ganz sicher.
Albert Einstein
Allah Yirhamha ween ma kaanat


Whatever that means... it has to be fitting in some way. Is it?

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Le vol du siècle

Le vol du siècle ne fut pas celui de telle ou telle banque par un groupe de malfaiteurs astucieux; trop de planification et pas assez de spontanéité. On aime la passion plus que la méthode. Ce ne fut pas non plus un quelconque vol d’œuvre d’art; ceux-ci ne touchent généralement que l’orgueil de leurs propriétaires, puisque nul ne saura jamais dire la différence d’entre l’original et le double. Le vol du siècle (si on entend par « siècle » une notion temporelle élargie qui peut englober les deux derniers siècles ainsi que le prochain pour une raison qui ne relève que de l’auteur) n’est pas non plus le vol des frères Wright, puisque celui-ci découle plus d’un jeu de mot que du sujet ici entretenu. Non! Le vol du siècle fut effectué par cet humble écrivain en manque de Doritos.

Permettez-moi d’abord de vous expliquer pourquoi un camion de Doritos se verrait-il la cible d’un bouffon dans mon genre. Et bien, premièrement, parce que je suis un bouffon, un bouffon pour qui l’originalité prime sur le bon sens (c’est aussi pourquoi j’aime à sortir les vidanges en vêtements courts, l’hiver). Deuxièmement, parce que, malgré mon frêle physique *ahem* (l’auteur se permet lui-même de tousser, se mettant lui-même dans l’embarras), j’aime bien, de temps à autres, engouffrer une poignée indécente de Doritos dans mon abyssal gorgoton.

Donc, un jour, en proie à un viscéral désir pour une malsaine collation (malsaine par sa quantité, non sa qualité), je vis un camion de livraison tapissé d’un emballage de Doritos de quinze pieds de large, livrant à un quelconque établissement et livré à lui-même. Il était à peu près deux heures dans l’après-midi. Les nombreux passants me regardaient étrangement. Était-ce mon éblouissante beauté qui les intriguait ou cette coulée de salive digne d’un Saint-Bernard? C’est alors que sous un soleil décelant toute cachette que je me dis : « Ha ha! Le crime parfait! »

D’un pas décidé on me vit franchir une multitude d’obstacles (depuis que je suis gamin, chacune des craques d’un trottoir constitue un obstacle) en direction du camion convoité. Plus je comptais les craques du trottoir, plus l’excitation grimpait en moi. Me voici sautant par-dessus une plate-bande. Me voilà me faufilant entre deux marcheurs tout aussi surpris que choqués. J’avançais comme Christophe Colomb aurait aimé avancer en voyant approché trop lentement l’Amérique. Rassurez-vous, mon camion de Doritos n’était pas qu’une illusion d’Inde. Contrairement à mon copain l’explorateur, je découvris ce que j’avais jusque là cherché et que j’avais dû atteindre par-delà un océan de monde et de ciment, parsemé de plate-bande désertes, sous un soleil de plomb. Le camion de Doritos était là, comme ma terre promise m’accueillant.

J’entrai donc à l’intérieur par la porte coulissante laissée ouverte du côté du conducteur (non mais vraiment, le livreur tenait absolument à se faire voler. Tout s’éclaircit maintenant. Je ne suis qu’un outil du destin). J’allai à l’arrière, ouvris une caisse et en tira un sac de Doritos épicé. Je l’ouvris d’un geste vif digne d’une publicité et commençai à m’empiffrer goulûment. Je retournai alors à l’avant et m’assis derrière le volant. Le petit ange de ma conscience, qui, comme dans les Pierrafeu, apparut au-dessus de mon épaule droite, me demanda alors pourquoi après avoir déjà volé un sac de Doritos il me fallait désormais en voler un camion presque entier (n’oubliez pas que le livreur était déjà en train d’en livrer lorsque j’arrivai. Veuillez s’il-vous-plait omettre le fait que la porte arrière aurait dû être ouverte sans que je n’en aie fait mention). Comme il se devait, au-dessus de mon épaule gauche apparut le petit démon de ma conscience qui me dit alors dans le joual la plus vil que j’avais jusqu’à ce jour entendu, et que je dois même aujourd’hui censurer, quelque chose signifiant à peu près ceci : « N’écoute pas cet… ange. C’est un… Prend le … de camion. Bla bla bla… » J’écoutai donc celui des deux qui ne m’avaient pas posé de questions, parce que tout le monde sait bien que dans le cas d’un vol de croustille et∕ou de camion, on ne répond aux questions qu’en la présence de son avocat. Mon avocat étant soit inexistant, soit ignorant du fait qu’il était mon avocat, et dans les deux cas absent, je m’abstins de répondre à la question de l’ange et appuyai fortement sur l’accélérateur. « Le crime parfait » répétai-je, la bouche pleine.

On qualifie généralement de crime parfait cet acte illégal pour lequel un homme ou une femme s’en tire sans châtiment. Est-ce là une réelle satisfaction? Je ne saurais dire, puisque par un concours extraordinaire de circonstances (la lumière éclatante du jour, les nombreux passants comme témoins et le poste de police de l’autre côté de la rue), je fus arrêté. Je qualifie néanmoins mon acte de « parfait », puisque contrairement à ces criminels qui doivent constamment récidiver, j’ai eu tout à fait ce que je voulais. J’hésite toutefois à qualifier mon acte de crime, puisqu’on me le fit payer cher (de la prison, une amende et des travaux communautaires dans les écoles dans le cadre de la campagne « Vollé, cé pa cool! »). Je peux sans le moindre doute dire que c’était là le sac de Doritos le plus coûteux que j’aie jamais acheté, mais il était de loin le plus épicé.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Writing motion

I have tons of ideas. I have dozens of bits of dialogue. I basically know how the story will unfold. I know pretty much every one of the characters and what they bring to the story. I know how I want to write it. I know why. I know all there is to know about that story.

Now, the question is: When will I start to write that story?

I want it so bad.

Writing is my drug.

Little Frank minister of Awesomeness, representing CreativeWriting County, is a powerful member of the parliament of LittleFrankland. Now that little Prime Minister Frank has been kidnapped, he'd like to take over for a while. "A LITERARY REVOLUTION!" he calls for motion. Who will second?

Monday, August 21, 2006

I am Jack's broken heart

My heart isn't broken. There's just a small fissure and it's leaking.

Quote of the day

I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions.
Augusten Burroughs


Not that it is true, concerning me. Everybody knows I'm entirely made of qualities, stitched together with carelessness and apathy. Yes, the seams are very apparent.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Time

We've just received a ransom letter for Little Prime Minister Frank. The kidnappers want time in exchange for the leader of life-sized Frank's reason (by the way, life-sized Frank is me).

Time doesn't come cheap. It's one of those currencies that is hard to get a hand on nowadays. There's work, there's sleep... then, what's left? Time spent typing messages on a blog that may or may not be read. Time spent watching TV, because any other type of activity seems oh so tiring. The expression "quality time" is laughable. The quality of my time is so crappy that I couldn't get anything in return should I try to sell it. Aren't there governmental regulatory commissions preventing time from getting that awful. You know, bad time can be harmful. It's like poison. No, it's like a flesh-eating bacteria, biting your soul one second at a time.

Think about it. Can anyone help me make my time better?

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Time, Pink Floyd

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way
Kicking around on a peice of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way
Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun

And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but its sinking
And racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in a realative way, but you're older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death
Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time has gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say

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I love Pink Floyd.