Hommage

Nelly Arcand est morte, elle n'est plus.

Je pleure celle que je n'ai jamais lue - envieuse et révoltée devant cette femme qui a publier son putain a 26 ans! Et qui est morte en liant sa vie à son dernier livre, puisqu'il n'était pas auto-fiction, elle l'a fait.

Je ne serais plus capable d'ouvrir son livre, j'aurais l'impression quelle serait là. C'est bien pour ça que je ne la lit pas. Elle est de mon age. J'ai perdue une soeur.

Je suis vraiment rien, dans ma chambrette d'hamster, en train de produire des sites-ouebes woohoo. En train d'écrire que j'aimerais peut-être écrire, y croire pour m'apaiser de mon angoisse de vivre. je-vais-ecrire-donc-ma-vie-n'est-pas-rien. Sans écrire bien sur. Sans aimer. Sans enfanter. Sans rien.

Nelly, t'es folle. Je t'aime.

Amourx.

Enlightement

In the bibliotheek - a Grand Place with 360 high views of the city. A voice of the 30s sings over a grand piano in the distance. Pods and places to sit in all kinds of ways, facing the city or not, sheltered or out in the open. Spectacular interior design - light abounds. At the top floor, high-end cantine, delicious and perfect - a suprisingly great place to dine, and a great location by the Central Station. I could spend every day here. I can see the slanted Nemo building from here, where I may go next. Quite the place to be today.

I didn't notice the books.

I am sort of taking my Friday off and it happened like this: the office internet connection is down, and I am even more down. I have a bit of a cold and am always still very tired. Last night at around 10pm, I uncharacteristically took my bike (it's way to small for me) and met friends to go to a party. Came back alone at 3am. I was not going to be bright and early. In fact, the first thing I did in this grand library is found a chair designed like an opened flower in front of a 5th floor window, with the giant table sized poofs paired to each green flower chair, this spot was perfect for a bit of sleep. And I slept deeply and soundly. Then I had soup.

In my minuscule, nether-smelly hotel bedroom, I have a very good full-lenght mirror. It made me face a very obvious fact. I, am fat. And I, am bagged shapped. My face has swollen, is round a puffy. My upper arms are big and slack, and did I see something like cellulite there? Maybe that's pushing it, but they are jiggely. My breasts, well, I pause somethimes wondering how they got that big, fighting for space between my big arms, bouncing forward like a threat. My legs, I don't really look at them anymore.

But what struck me this morning was my belly. Sitting on my bed which caused my arse fat to spread and buldge around me, I saw two very well defined tires, one sitting on top of the other, where my belly used to be. Together with the afore mentioned buldge, all of this created the unmistakable shape of a bag. Fat that hangs, this is where I am today. Uhg.

I don't plan to keep it. I have cut my medication in half; I am doing an hour of bicycle per day; I won't eat too much; I have an excercise band routine that I do in my minuscule Nether-room. I will relax, am getting back into yoga, that sort of thing.

That is all I have to say now.

Amourx

Koffie

I found my place. I could live at de Koffie Salon, period. This trip is very different from last time -- I am not frazzled and distressed. Far from it, I am rested and calm. I already have a routine, with everything in its place, and time. I have a lended bike and a spot on the mezzanine overlooking the barrista and the street, and the giant candelabra (nothing special about it). My room is next to the prettiest canal cross in Amsterdam, say my fellow resident collegues. I sleep soundly, and even my hair are tamed today, a very rare feat.

I left the pair of jeans that I was going to wear every day at home in the dryer! There is a shop at the corner of the office (did I tell you it's on the market street?, what's a girl to do. She will shop.

I dare say that in Montreal, there isn't a writting spot as perfect as this one. I dare say.

Amourx

Breathing Amsterdam

Well here I am, in a small room that barely passes the mark of 'ok'. Surely it is not suitable for a business trip, let alone 12 days of it. Luckily I changed the prison cell they first gave me. Now I am making the most of the upgrade. Everything in its place, what can be locked is, I am sleeping on my beauch towel (which coordinates well with the throw and pillows).

You know what's eek? They don't do sheets in Amsterdam. You can't even buy them. Hand paper towels and bathing cloths (not sure what the English term is - that cloth thing that you put your soap on in the shower) are also an oddity in these Nether-realms. No top sheet is not a big deal, Except when you're in a shady hotel. Eek.

I have walked looking for food and trying to know my way this time. I succeded, but the walk was 2 hour long. I'm beat. I was going to go into the most Perfect Cafe that is really near across the canal, on a short bit of street where every commerce is attracting me. The Pate Negro - foufounes meets meat hanging from the ceiling. Basque. Then there is also the little boutiques that where all closed. I'll be back.

There are parts of Ams that I really don't like - but I wrote that elsewhere. I don't particularly like walking for 2 hours, 1 would suffice.

It's 3pm/9pm depending where you sit. I'm very tired, kind of satisfied. I slept for 6 hrs in pieces, here and there. I have a small bottle of wine.I found a stone massage place.I think I will be ok to wake up early tomorrow. I am calm and happy to be alone; very happy to not be thrown into work. I know I say that a lot, but I love to be alone.

Last time I was here, it wasn't right. I'm not saying that it's going to be right this time; I don't know this. But, I had a bad spell in early summer.

Goals? Hopes? None, except writing, breathing.

Amourx

Patience

This is what happened today - I became guilt ridden boxed myself. Nothing major, actually subtle. I'm writing it down to catch myself. There is a fright covered by layers of wants, will, frustrations, and all the things that I don't control. Today I took a sick day, that's all.

I did it as a child, I missed school all the time. It made no difference whatsoever to no one. My mom kept me back in my first years, because I always got sick. My dad though, gave me the creeps. Guilty it was. I once sat a the top of the stair case looking down. I wanted to break my own arm, I kid you not. I didn't have the balls though, thank god.

Poison comes with exterior stress filtered through that scheming brain of mine. Oh how I know how to pull the strings of gloom, even the strings of terror. Now I face it, now I don't.

I still know, rationally, that I'm doing the right thing. And here I am, indeed, in a boxing match against myself. It is tiring. Rational is the way to go though. But right now when I listen inside I hear: want! want! want! hurry! SHAME! guilt guilt guilt. erh.

Anyway, it ain't that bad - really. On another note today I bought the most perfect watch - it's pretty. And today I thought I was pretty, and I thought that I caught some looks going my way because I was pretty. It's been a while since I felt that.

I didn't buy 2 pair of boots. I'm being reasonable, exercising constraint. Well, I may buy them tomorrow, hehe. One was a 3 inch heel leather black booty with buckles, hot and rough. One was a 1.5 inch below the knee high boot, in black velvet with leather buckle and seams. Lady like, eye catching, suave. Both where very comfortable, and expensive.

So I did my medical insurance claim and it will cover it. Good reasoning - right? Right.

I bought a book of course, on breathing. Back to the source. Did the exercise: 10 minutes of conscious breathing, trying to describe how it feels. Do this every day. My breath was cool, unsteady, shallow, silent, then broader and longer (I do that when I'm conscious of my breathing). I need to find my ground again :-).

I bought the Oprah mag for the plane; a purrfect tee; two other tees from my client's store. I by them because they are me, and I have a discount.

I bought one resistance band exercise dvd, to take to Ams with me. And I will return the one I bought yesterday - it wasn't so good.

Regrets? None.

I know that I am a fuss head, I know. I still like me. But you know what I didn't do? What is kind of hitting me saying hey girl, isn't this your life? And you're not doing it on your personal day? My book.

Thank god it's patient :).

And just to put the story straight - I paid in bills 4 times what I spent today. Clearing my debts ladies and gents: I am still marching down that road, nice and easy.

Of to work now. I mean sleep. Erg.

Amourx.

Homeland

Two minutes - I'm fine. I am going to travel and wandering what I need. I understand what happened last time. I flew after a couple work related traumaz; I was thinking of getting a new life. Out with the old, in with the new. It sure didn't happen.

This time, well, I'm there to enjoy it :). I love my home and I know it. I love my little daily tasks: prepping food, clearing the dishes, folding clothes away, and putting trash and recycling out. I love doing home economics: spending a week on 97$ so I can pay off my debt in bigger chunks. Claiming money from who owes me. Slowly re-integrating form & fitness, reducing my pill intake by half. And above all I love the sun that shines Every Day, the canal, the books, the people, the food, the low cost of everything... I don't want to move in Amsterdam - I live in my favorite place.

More later,
Tara.

This is a Story about a Peach

I had a peach. No, first I had a head of roman lettuce, and it was all about the lettuce. Could it be possible that it was so crisp after so many days? Because it shouldn't, and that's why tonight had to be about the lettuce.

The roman surprised me and I know this has to do with the new blue container. It makes lettuce fresher with time, or so it seems. Now I had a tomato, a cucumber and a green onion. No the tomato was bad, but I had a lemon. Roman, cucumber, green onion. It started to feel cool. The lemon gave in instantly - it was just waiting to give it's juice. Olive oil. Now I had some canned tuna, but I discarded that. Didn't feel right.

Basil felt right, and some grounded pepper and salt right on top of the leafs. If I had cheese... Well turns out that I did buy some goat feta cheese last time on the off chance. The cheese was disappointing in itself, but chopped up in a salad -- nice.

Mint sprigs - they slowly came round. First they were a statement: I have them. Then an idea; what if... but no. Then, well, it sort of tilted on and off, that idea of mint leaves in my salad. But I new that my salad was cucumber cool and lettuce leave light. Mint. Mint! Yes, chopped mint is exactly the perfect touch. And my friends, when I took out the sprigs to chop them coarsely, the scent, well... words to describe it would steer this paragraph into a hole other level.

The same thing happened to the peach. It was in the back of my fridge, and I wasn't sure if it was still with us, or if it had sadly passed, and put to waist the promising journey from Ontario to Montreal that it had endeavored, and the dreams this peach may have had, to become a something more than a dying fruit in the back of a laywoman's fridge. A quick feel, more to reckon about it's life stage, being practical about planning to eat it at some point and all that, revealed that it was still firm. Well that's all it was at first.

But then you see, the cucumber, the feta, the basil and the mint were together in this bountiful bouquet of romaine. The olive oil and lemon was already poured in. The peach... just... appeared as a matter of fact. That peach, cut in bite size pieces, in the salad. It had to be.

White wine framed and tied it together all the way from preparation to after dinner sip. There where a few drops in the salad too. This wine, and this peach, and this mint, and all this creation, chimed in and resonate in my palate still. And I must say, my palate is no longer a palate, it is a palace.

***************

In other news today, I am preparing a trip to Amsterdam soon. I got 2 movies in the mail. I'm on top of things at work. My home is clean and beautiful. My intentions are good. I am at peace with myself.

Amourx.

Échafaud

Un peu de réconciliation, histoire de fermer tout ce qui est ouvert, et donc épuisant, dans ma tête. Je me réconcilie avec moi-même. Il y a un paradoxe qui fait que je me calme en étant seule devant mes cahiers, livres, films, devant mes projets et mes rêves. Je les attrape tous au volant et les couche sur un post-it pour ne pas qu'ils s'échappent, et il se dessine un squelette de quelque chose. Comme ça il y a un certain fondement derrière ma frousse perpétuelle, un petit échafaudage. J'attrape les petites brindilles ça et là et les posent l'une sur l'autre en équilibre. C'est tout de même assez fragile, et il faut que j'y retourne assez souvent pour que j'y reconnaisse quelque chose, une essence ou une forme. Je ne suis pas une fille pratique.

Le paradoxe c'est que je suis malade face aux autres. Anxiété sociale, qu'on pourrait dire. Donc c'est avec les autres que je peux savoir si je vais mieux ou pis. Je crois la reconnaitre aujourd'hui, cette anxiété, par le discour intérieur -- en désaccord total avec ma façon d'être. Un mur géant entre les idées et les mots et gestes. J'agis en automate timide, avec la critique intérieure qui m'assaille en pensées. Je ne tolère pas beaucoup ma vie sociale.

Parenthèse car j'en ai une tout de même. Et s'il manque quelque chose aujourd'hui c'est d'oser choisir ma vie. Oser croire en ce que je veux de meilleur, pour le faire ensuite. La vie est trop courte.

Le week-end est trop court. C'est ce que je voulais dire au début.

Amourx.

Stakes

I did today as best I could. My 15 minutes of freestyle writing created some seed of a theme or intrigue. I didn't know that I would have to go to Africa, but a girl will do what girl has to do, quite. In the meantime, I have a pretty darned good informeress.

I worked as best I could, but the work couldn't get produced. Instead I found a resource very much by chance, very much as if something was playing in my favor. It's been a dawg old day as when the sun and breeze had more influence than other stakes. And I was started one hour earlier, and I woke one hour early, to do it that way.

It was my man's b-day, and all happened as it should. Well except I ate too much. Now I am tired like usually at this time, but it feels good to cuddle up in my sofa with tv or a book, not thinking about tomorrow. That's how I will sleep man, curled up with 3 books so that I can switch, ample choice is my method.

Hell even my hair cooperates tonight. The only things that don't are the movies expected in the mail, but that's probably 'cause I'm waiting to hard.

Amour doesn't cut it tonight for closure. Tonight it's sleep tight or forever hold your curls.

I only repeat it for voodoo reasons.

Amourx

Oridinaire

Pardonnez mes écrits très petite vie ces jours-ci, mais c'est ce que c'est (ma vie). Bizarre comme un rien de ménage me donne du contrôle, comme une recette suivi à la lettre, sauf pour les épices, et mesurée avec soin m'emmêne loin dans les hautes sphères du délicieux, pour un faible coût. Bizarre comme une seule bière consommée avant, pendant et après le repas goûte si divinement bon.

Ça a l'air de rien, mais je suis en train de faire un très gros move. Parenthèse, vous devriez voir mes rêves ces jours-ci, autant bizarre que pervers que réels. J'en ai été choquée plus d'une fois. Cette nuit il y avait... vaut mieux pas le dire - au cas où ils me lisent.

Très gros move doucement, mine de rien. Ce n'est pas un changement de job (qui quitterait une job qui l'envoie à Amsterdam aux 2 mois?), ce n'est pas un déménagement, c'est autre chose. Mais je préfère vous racontez les petites.

Hier j'ai fait de l'exercise chez moi avec des élastique et mon ballon. Cette fois je le jure, je gèle mon abonnement au gym. Je ne peux pas piffer le sourire pepsodant de certains et la rigueur militaire des entrainement que je devrais faire si si si... Et aussi, il y a l'égo qui agit en ce sens. La rouille, s't'affaire.

Bon ce soir, je laisse tomber le détour à la quincaillerie, ça sera samedi. Les cannettes vide, demain. Sauf si je veux marcher. Cadeau de fête à penser... Faudrait quasiment que je manque un jour de travail pour tout faire rentrer dans cette courte semaine. J'ai un peu de boulot aussi pour ce soir... oh.

Et le livre! Il a fait je pense un bout de chemin. J'ai la marche à suivre tout tracée. J'ai fini l'avant dernier workshop, reste 1. Ensuite je peux travailler sur le plan et les idées... disons 3 semaines. Ça m'aidera aussi à arrêter le genre. Je m'amuse. Et je lis plusieurs livres en même temps - j'ai un VLB qui attend. Ça fait longtemps qu'il me tente, son Joyce.

Ça y est, c'est tout. Je suis planement heureuse, et ça fait bien pour ce temps.

Amourx.

Quotidien

Voyons l'état des choses. J'ai deux bières dans le corps alors ça ne pourra pas être trop sérieux. Il n'est que 6 heures et j'ai fait au moins quatre choses: un appel conf. pour le boulot (Amsterdam n'est pas en congé), une fête de neveu de 14 ans (plus la location et voyage en voiture, plus l'achat du cadeau), un appel annuel à la belle-mère égyptienne, et des planchers pas mal propres. C'est là que j'ai bu les deux bières en écoutant M.I.A., si bien que maintenant, je ne sais plus si je veux ou peux lire, écrire ou voir le film emprunté à la bibli, ou faire tout autre chose qui est pressant et dont je passerais à côté.

Non, je ne pense pas. Une douche et les deux pieds en pantoufles, je fais ce que je veux. Je reçois ma famille le 13, ça me force à mettre en ordre les choses, visser dans les murs tout ce que je n'ai pas encore oser faire.

Pantouflarde je suis. J'apprécie lire toute seule, c'est grave. Je ne suis pas sortie samedi (je sors jamais) même si j'avais une offre très bien. Je lis, je fait des petits plans de petite fille qui veut être parfaite. Je suis toujours fatiguée de toute façon. Sur que j'ai pas la recette de vie ultime, avec toute cette auto-suffisance.

Mais! J'ai trouver un livre qui me dit exactement quoi faire pour écrire mon livre. Écrire mon livre, ça demande d'être bien seule.

Un petit voyage à Amsterdam tomberait bien.

Amourx.

Zest

I've been given my options squarely, defiantly. And as always, I accept ze challenge. With superior zest! I'm no spring chicken. My gloves are on: I don't like to be undermined.

I will lie in it

I believe that I am making my bed.

Perle du jour

Le long d’un fleuve couleuvre glisse ton cil
Que je n’ai pas oublié depuis le temps
Qu’il tangue.
Dans le feu de ta langue, l’autre jour
Tu m’as dis y croire, et moi
Je ne t’ai pas entendu.
Demain j’irai au fleuve voir
S’il restait un bout de toi
Une image, un mot, un geste
Que je puisse emporter avec moi.

***chaque matin j'écris Freestyle 15 minutes, ce petit poème s'est présenté ce matin :).

Home economics

1 hour talk with a sister I didn't see in months. Worth every minute in spades. She's in lust. And I relate to her more quickly than I do my other sisters, in an instant.

Grocery shopping done while tallying my purchases to the cent, on the fly, as a mental game and a way to keep costs under budget. 1 imported beer (1.33$ + taxes) savoured with half of a take-out lunch from work: fried rice with duck and tofu (1.50$, no taxes). Bonus buys on tuna and hummus and chicken breasts. A 66 cent orange juice concentrate too. No one should start knowing this minute cent counting stuff before 35 - it all started to make sense today.

I will get another beer now (1.33$ + taxes), feels right.

I finally received 2 out of 3 DVD's (0$) from the rental place. It took... 4 days to get here. Acceptable. I'm not sure if you want to know what I watch and what I read. 'I'm not there', and 'Kamouraska'.

Kamouraska is a delirious ride into the anxiety ridden kaleidoscope emotions of a woman, as she reveals her mystery. A complex read that I am savouring. I am quite attached to the word. Kamouraska sounds like 'run with me over the rapids to the place of love'. I'm sure that the author agrees (Anne Hébert).

The duck and tofu are hinting that they disagree now. Or maybe it's the prescription I swallowed too late in the day and downed with a sip of beer.

House is clean. Work is behind me. Time is ahead. I rarely am so still.

On my plate is writing: I have 15 minutes freestyle in the morning, 1 or 2 workshop exercises in the evening; On my plate is my career, ready to shift again in time. My body is nowhere to be seen, though I'm keeping it healthy.

kAmourx.