Je réalise avec effarement que je n’ai pas posté sur ce blog depuis décembre. Ce n’est pourtant pas faute d’avoir aligné les milliers de mots, c’est juste difficile de partager avec régularité quand la plupart de nos projets sont au long cours. Cela semble être un problème récurrent pour moi, et on ne peut qu’espérer que cela signifie avoir bientôt beaucoup de belles et grandes choses dont parler.
En attendant, j’aimerais vous parler du projet d’anthologie poétique mis en place par Angel Rosen, et imprimé et distribué par Coin-Operated Press : l’appel à textes, ciblé sur une communauté de patrons d’Amanda Palmer, portait sur des sujets très divers tels que la maternité, la dépression, le post-partum, le deuil… et des voix encore plus diverses. Mon poème The Departure, que j’ai partagé aux lecteurices payant·e·s de Hold My Tea mais qui ne figurait pas dans Evidence Room par exemple, y figurera. En tout cas, vous pouvez pré-commander un exemplaire ici si, comme moi, vous avez envie d’en lire davantage.
Au détour d’un atelier d’écriture mené par Pauline Harmange, l’un des exercices (vous avez été arrêté.e pour le crime le plus idiot qui soit, écrivez votre plaidoirie) a donné lieu à ce poème, qui m’amuse assez pour le partager.
How many do you need to make a good one? the good and fair and honest people in this town would say an accurate ten, of course.
so, the old white cis straight dude was in his right to film me right to save the unforgivable footage right to be tapping on my shoulder right to point out what a blunt spectacle was happening in front of his eyes or rather, how it was happening in case I didn’t notice.
« Miss » he said – would you even be judging me if I didn’t pass as a « Miss » to you all? – « Miss », he said, « It is so frightening to see how you move there is almost a grace to it. »
And so, with my unability to take a compliment as the way out it is, proof has been sent to this tribunal testimony has been sworn upon and here I am before all the judges of the county, defending myself in this serious matter.
You’re afraid to ask aren’t you
I’ll do it for you « why would she do it what twisted mind would choose to one-finger-type through a whole novel? what evil could drive you and that sole finger one letter at a time? »
but the truth, Mister and Misters Jury, could be even more disturbing than that. what if I didn’t have any choice? what if I couldn’t use all my ten fingertips like the rest of you? what if my brain wouldn’t let me? what if I’m too crippled to not break the law? how fast can one finger move before it is called unnatural how hard do you have to want the writing to make it happen one fingertip at a time?
the case is closed. I did break the law. you are scared and you should be. but before you lock me in, ask yourself: if you take the typing machine away what new outrageous way to write will I find?
That one moment, when you feel you’ve been screaming all that’s been done all the pain and the hurting and the crimes into a void all these years loud and clear then one day you grabbed people’s ears forced them to listen and now, they be saying “we had no idea, how terrible, how so sorry we all are!”
well, it was a void indeed
(Images are from a project I’ve been working on with talented comic artist Steren)
I’m trying to stay asleep as long as I can so I don’t have to write in my journal because if I did, then my journal would hold what I’ve been through and it’d remember and everything would be terrible
But then I wake up and I do write on my journal in order to avoir telling my friends because if I did, then my friends would know what I’m going through and they’d say the words and everything would be terrible
It’s okay, I’ll tell myself it’s just dopamine dopamine’s just chemistry chemistry can be fought with established processes established processes already exist so it can wait until I start fighting then it’s all gonna be
It happens every once in a while you must know how it feels but I won’t throw the words at you
If you ever saw me Say it like it’s not a big deal Without even looking If you’d let me whole, Tell me Like it’s the most common thing in the world Because, if you emphasize, even for one second I’ll already be gone.
I’m not gonna stay quiet though Not ever Not when I need to speak up But I often wish I was someone who is quiet so I could feel okay being as loud as I want when I need to.
Maybe I would be better at resting if I was a slightly quieter version of who I am
Caring for you will never be enough Not because you need more passion or intensity Not because it’s not strong enough It’s just that « I care about you » is what every violent partner ever said to their victims
It’s not that I’m that much of a monster but anything can hurt if it’s loud enough and my love is usually very, very loud. You think you’ve been through worse ? But, darling, that’s never been the point. Better than the worst isn’t the same as good and if it’s not good enough in politics then it’s nothing close to enough when it comes to love.
I’ll come around, eventually after you’ve told me without looking me in the eyes because you knew it would scare the hell out of me I’ll say things of my own and stop when I want to I’ll say things that you already know and maybe some of the things that you couldn’t have guessed I’ll say all the things that I need to say louder
But for now I’m sat at the cafe you know which one I’m writing words I won’t have to explain because people will take them and make them their own and then I’ll be « you do whatever you want with them who cares what’s real who cares what I wanted they’re yours now »
I’m sat and writing and I’m not lonely Pierre is pouring me glasses of water Loïc is complaining because I won’t drink milk I’m with characters and feelings and things that should feel safe some day everything is where it should be I’m taken care of for now.
I’ll come around and tame myself into going back there But I need time before I can go back into the world of living without panicking
There are still ghosts in my head wearing your face without having ripped it off And they’re asking on your behalf « Who are you? How dare you care for me? »
I could start convusing from being alive, if I don’t have you to cool me down; I’ll overwhelm myself with the feelings I already feel, when you’re so alive it hurts. And they still will be here
I can be brave not for you – maybe a little bit for you – but for myself If I get out of this torn apart – wich I will, eventually – I can afford it as long as I’ve got this as long as I’ve got my badass self I can be brave for her
It still happens, you know when I wake up and I think « there is this much beauty and kindness and light in the world » and you make me smile
I did not see you grow but I can tell by your path the little movements when you speak I feel you
I can be brave enough not to run away it wouldn’t be protecting me at all anyway, would it? I know what it is to carry your heart broken twice at the same time. Running doesn’t help and walking away even less.
I could do that, though, carving feelings around you like you’re not here like they’re the real art like they’re all that matters I wouldn’t even need you, then We’d be all together And I’d go back to my writing quietly pretending that was work all along, and nothing else.
So, You’re so fuckin’ great I wanna write songs about you songs and novels and poetry but I never do. I never write about what feels good ; about anything that’s meant to stay the same for a while, I must remain silent.
I still tried to drink you out of my system to joke you out of my system to cry you out of my system to fuck you out of my system all while you weren’t there
But the truth is I can’t write about you because if I do, I might start to move on and I don’t want that because you feel good because even though you’re this impossible boy, even though I can only think, there is nothing bad to think about, and I’d like to keep that just a little longer
Fucking myself out of loving you doesn’t work Crying myself out of loving you doesn’t work Talking myself out of loving you doesn’t work Wasting myself out of loving you I haven’t tried that because you deserve so much better
I do not want to risk writing you out of my head because the truth is if I do I might start to move on towards what?
And if you’re the impossible love of this part of my life what does that make you and what’s left of you when I start growing forward?