So What’s Next? (I’m open to suggestions – really)

I won’t lie. I’m exactly not bored with writing/painting/trading but It does feel like “been there, done that” so I get to focus on very specific details of these disciplines that are of interest to me to keep these things interesting.

2018 was a transition year and I took hard, difficult decisions, all of which have paid off by November.

And that opens up possibilities without any struggle (it’s a first!) and I mean… I don’t have anything to fix in my life right now except from like, one electrical outlet so I’m really good.

Truth is, I don’t really know where to go from here. (and I’m saying this in a very positive way).

Anyways… my age (and new years’) is a time of reflection and here is the list of every significant thing I’ve done with my life. Ever since that scene in Fight Club when they smash the car and shit…I’ve decided to life fully and so far It feels like a pretty good life.

 

Did the scuba diving

Snowboaded a lot

Fait du quatre roues (Broke both my arms)

Rollerblading too

Hockey as well

Rifle shooting (and was insanely good at it – I mean, we reloaded our own bullets professionally.

I did cut a nail with a shot at 100 yards when I was 16. I’m still proud of that somehow.

Competed in a couple things (hated it)

A year of wing-chun was a steep (yet meaningful) learning experience.

Learned the drums

Then bass

Then sang (screamed)

Then guitar

Did graffiti (and failed, then moved on quickly)

Recorded in studio (3 times) punk, hardcore and trash metal

Been on stage a bunch of times (and loved it)

I wrote like 11 books now.

Got publishing deals. (It doesn’t change your life the way people expect it to…)

Did a couple interviews ( and nailed them)

I did go to my cousin’s 5 star wedding (in a country club) dressed as a krusty punk.

Learned a second language (and a bit of a third)

1 ba in English

2 solo art shows

1 group show in the old port

Sold quite a few paintings

Did artistic photography

Lots and lots and lots of sports

Jumped from a cliff into a waterfall.

Learned how to trade (and nailed it, like… hard)

Worked a couple factories

I did park the forklift in my foreman’s office once. (sticking it to the man!!!)

Was in a 10 year, committed relationship

Stuck to a job who shared my values when it was hard (and it’s paid off – It also involved picking human shit with my hands (gloves) for said work – Allo Quartier Latin)

Went from warehouse worker to senior buyer in that company.

Bought a home

Fixed it up enough

Technically, I guess I flipped it (not entirely intentionally)

Got two kids (and loving it!)

I think I’m a really good dad

Survived a Poli Sci class with Dan O’Meara (It’s not that easy)

Had an A in a class with Steven Appelbaum (It’s an achievement!!!)

Did the GMAT

Got admitted to JMSB’s MBA

Failed said MBA but still really proud I failed at something so hard.

Seen the inside of MELS studios

Got divorced (It’s an achievement!!! It really is)

Was straight edge for 16 years, then had a beer and did not dislike it

Sérigraphie

Been to concerts, mosh pits, really sketchy and obscure shows.

Bati mes propres meubles (plusieurs fois)

Wrote 100+ poems

Did light painting (and it was really emotionally satisfying)

Told a woman I was hers and meant it like a motherfucker (and hurt myself doing so, but I would have regretted not telling her, I don’t have that regret now)

In a vaguely related statement, (and not bragging) I had sex with 20 different women, (and none of it could really be defined as boring)… which I’ve been told is high yet feels respectful of personal choices. I still don’t know how to feel about this or where to go with that.

I never cheated on anyone (not even a kiss) and I am really proud of this!

I want to keep the sex stuff private but I will mention I did “reach” Trantric sex.

(sans transition)

Drove a stick shift (and loved it)

Seen NOLA

Seen New-York (hated it)

Took a train old school style (and loved it)

Been on literary panels

Photoshopped some shit and covers (got bored with it)

Won a (small) literary prize (against my former professor who was a complete asshole – That’s my favourite part of it)

Did three years of community theater

Sold a movie script

Was a student union organizer for years.

Trade union negociator once

Trade union VP (It’s not that fancy)

Ran food drives

Got arrested – By thirty cops (Allo sommet des Amériques)

Was pepper sprayed, shot tear gas at, clubbed unconscious by the cavalry (for real)

Been in protests

Been in riots

Gave money to Doctors Without Borders

Had coffee with Albert Jacquard

Organized an entire week of conferences on globalisation

Stood up on a table to give a speech to hundreds of students in a protest.

Dared to let go of some very toxic people in my life. (I takes a certain courage)

Vegetarian (almost 20 years and counting)

Do the yoga

Got admitted into Mensa

Been in a real fight

Owned many (many) mistakes

Fell alsleep on the Mezzanine at the Orpheum Theatre in NOLA, wake up in front of Harlan Coben, said hi to each other and went right back to sleep.

Legitimately almost died 3 times

Got lots of tattoos

Got really sick (also got a lot better)

Told my dad I loved him

Learned how to cry like a man.

Drove a friend to his dying father

Helped many old ladies cross the street

Jumped on a plane on 300 bucks with no fucking money to spare (or backup plan) in another country to make it to a literary conference.

Gained 40 pounds

Lost the 40 pounds.

Climbed a 5.10D (and counting)

 

Thing’s I’m actively doing :

Going zero waste as much as possible.

 

Things I haven’t done :

 

Wish I had served in the military. I’m too old for it now and joining would only be self-serving. But it took me years to understand (too late) the value of it. (Kudos to those who served…) Oh well…

Joining an acting class (or a standup group) still feels like a goal I have yet to bring myself to reach. (I don’t know!!!)

All the travel-related stuff is still something I struggle with ethically (rich-white-priviledge kinda thing…welcome to my world!)

HUECO (it’s a climbing spot) this summer would be a trip I’d dare to allow myself

Surfing feels like something I need to learn.

 

Long term life goals:

I still need to build a house from scratch.

 

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A Poem to my Daughter

I don’t write about you.
I wrote an entire book about you
But I don’t write you.
Not this way
Not lately
Not in way too long.

You have your mother’s eyes.
And the other one is a perfect
Picture of her grandmother

The celtic is strong in that one
But you got the french in us
You really did

You have the attitude
And that sharpness to you
It’s how I can’t hide a damn thing
And you see right through me
Makes if hard to be a dad
(Sometimes
Little white lies makes it easier
To govern)

But you don’t let me get away with these
Not anymore
I need to up my game
And explain to you
The harder thruths of life
And share my love
In better ways
In more hugs
And simpler words
I need to learn
Quickly
To enjoy the tickle fights
That still make you laugh
Before you become a full teenager

You are asleep now

And the house is silent

I heard your book drop to the floor

As your still tiny hands

Let go of it while you faded into sleep.

And I smiled.

I Was Done Fucking (Poem)

I Was Done Fucking (Poem)

 

I knew everything

I needed to know about sex.

All of it

I knew how to charm,

I knew how to please.

I knew how to make them cum

But I had forgotten

What it was like to be loved.

To simply be held

And at peace

 

And that’s what I needed right now.

 

The bodies moved

And it was good

While it lasted

Plenty of sex

And flesh

And orgasms

But then she wrapped up her shit

And went home

Every time

 

The door

Closing

Behind her

Left a silence

I didn’t miss

So

I lay in bed

Again

Listening

To Billie Holiday

Again

Wondering

Where my heart was

What it deserved

What it needed

 

It certainly

Wanted more

Than three

Used condoms

And an empty

Bed.

The Last Wolf of Womankind (Poem)

There was that stare in her eyes.
I used to know it very well.
And I had suspected.
It had gone instinct.
I had suspected
It had vanished.
Under occupation
After occupation
Riot squads
Overwork
And daily struggles
Like paying the rent
And food
And mistakes

There was that fire in her eyes.
From the days of riots.
Not so long ago.
(Six years at most.)

As the last time
The youth took
To the street.
Against infamy.
Idiocy
And common
Simple
Stupidity
Against
A world gone mad.
On hatred
Debt
And amphetamines

It all has gone silent now
The streets are quiet
But I remembered
When I looked at her
Of my own days
As an anarchist.

There was a fire in her eyes.
Only matched
By her beauty.
It’s true.
There have been many
Gorgeous women
Who walked the earth.
But rarely with that
Fire of hers.

It was not
A hateful
Rage
But a caring
Rage.
The rarest of
Rages.
The best of
Rage.
I’ve known it once.
For a good decade
I’d say
The purest of
Rage

Mine had grown
Deeper.
Deeper.
But silent.

I was ready

For the aftermath
She was still
Fighting it.
So,
I stared at my ceiling
And wondered if
I was a romantic
Or a coward
An idiot
Or a simple
(Ageing)
Realist

There was beauty in her
Beauty

It was true

Beauty I could not explain.
Let alone grasp.
I don’t know
If any men
Ever will.
I looked at her
And almost saw Spain
Barcelona

The red and black

Days of 36

I know I took my chips
Off the table
Simple as that
I folded

Without even a shot

She was most definitely a wolf
I was most definitely not.

To the Fool Who Had Stopped Looking (Poem)

“Does he know he’s in trouble?” I asked her.
“What do you mean?”
Was her answer.

“You got new boots,
New hair,
New beanie,
Eyeliner and
you’re fucking
dressed to kill.”

She hadn’t even noticed.

Or maybe she had
And it was just nice
To have someone
Tell you
To have someone
See you
Again

She smiled
And for a second
There was happiness in her eyes

I hadn’t seen that
In a while
And it was good

“But it’s not even that,” I continued
“What is it?” she insisted

“There’s that glare in your eye
Like you’re tired
Of being invisible
To someone
Who’s taking you
For granted
And
And being taken
For granted
Is a terrible
Terrible
Thing to feel
Like

So you decided
You had enough
And decided
You deserve
To exist
Again
Fuck him.
You gave enough
And you’re right.”

She smiled
And laughed
That single burst
That just comes out
When you haven’t
Laughed in too long
And it was good

I looked at where
He might
Or might
Not be
Out by the front door
Or drowning in the river
It didn’t matter much right now.

“If he doesn’t notice he’s losing you,” I said.
He’s a fucking idiot.”

And he was a fucking idiot.

The Forgotten Ways of Love and Sex (poem)

It seemed to me ,
Dawned upon me
Really,
That is was as if
An entire generation
Had forgotten
How to fuck.

The smell of it
The taste of it
The sweat of it
How to make the body prance
And the legs shiver
Into glorious
Oblivion

It seemed to me
That an entire generation
Was lulled into
the boredom
Of porn
And fake fetishism

Fooled,
Tricked,
Conned,
(really)
That any of it
Had to do
With the physical
At all.

We have lowered
Ourselves
Stooped
And
Bowed
To cheap tricks
Meant for adrenaline junkies
Nothing more
And nothing less
(And no one else)

A jolt to the body
But a stab to the soul.
The sadness of it
Made me wander
For months

How did we forget.
That the power
That the fire
That the path
To love
And sex
Rested in her eyes.
And
That

Every shiver
Of the body
Every curve
And
Every time
The lips came to
Her breast
And thighs
Her hips
And
Heart
And lips

Was meant as a message
To the gods
That we are well
And alive
Here on earth

Bodies crave
And then bodies cave
As we breathe ourselves
Into each other’s skins
‘Till nothing exists
But her and I
Laying there
In the purest
Of silence
And nothingness

There is nothing
Like
Nothingness