There are weeks when I wonder what the meaning of our lives is. Take Tuesday of last week: there were 800 guinea pigs with their eyes closed who took off our shoes. We would have thought we were in a Best Western in Saint-Hyacinthe, noted my chum Married. Especially during the vox pop period after the Domestic journey. That was the title of the show. Our bald guru, doubled as a harpist in nylon stockings, was none other than the French writer Bernard Werber (The ants, The thanatonautes), a cult author in Russia and South Korea, I learned. He sold millions of books there.
The purpose of this $80 trip to the Outremont Theater wasn’t immediately revealed, but we quickly learned that it was a regression to a past life. It was a first for me, and I’m still not sure if I was that bearded gentleman in sandals seen behind the door.o 2.
“Énéwé”, I may suffer from aphantasia, an inability to visualize. With a little imagination, I could have been an octopus in a Boston aquarium in 1942. Of more than two hours of indoor “show”, I must have slept 10 minutes, I confess. Bernard Werber works hard with this vaguely introspective spiritual “PowerPoint”. He will even be at the Olympia in Paris next October.
It sorely lacks intimacy and credibility, but who am I to argue with a zero GHG trip without GPS?
On Wednesday, my two guys — Mr. B and his bromy adopted semi-restricted S made in Taiwan — came to have a beer and eat tacos. Mr. S, 22 years old, had been brutalized by two police officers and I wanted to see the damage. More fear than harm. He ran a yellow light on his bike Monday morning on his way to class. The cops chased him, jumped on him, threw him to the ground, handcuffed him, sent his bike careening “into” rue Saint-Denis with his phone. A scene from The Out-Laws or some Grumpy.
A brave citizen from the Plateau dared: “Isn’t this a bit of an excessive intervention? » We would have liked her to film them. The young police officers did not respond. They were dismantling an Asian street gang. The rest will be discussed in court. Bravo to the SPVM!
– I put my hands in the air, Mom! I know you have to do that when you’re racialized.
– Brave little one. Do you want another taco?
Get excited
According to my Chinese horoscope, Thursday was going to be quiet. I went to see the four girls Get excited on the stage of the Théâtre d’Aujourd’hui. What a good idea. Out of curiosity or boredom, I invited a Facebook friend that I didn’t know. Curiosity is the greatest quality, said the writer HG Wells.
Getting drunk means partying in Ivory Coast. The four black actresses use the “n” word during their delicious performance where the language drifts all over the place, borrowing from street expressions and zeitgeist. I must have been one black queen in a previous life. I was one of them.
On Friday, my ex (aka “my young French lover”) wanted to go see a movie. He texted me: “There’s nothing that bothers me. You want to see The beast ? » The film spoke of past lives that the heroine tried to resolve to finally find her great love who returned in each incarnation.
Those who have not understood the past, those who have not understood the past of humanity in general, those who have not understood their own past in particular, these will be condemned to reproduce it
After the film (6/10, and I slept for 15 minutes), my Frenchman from another life invited me to a party. It was already late and I had my sleeve pulled. “Come on, take a look!” Worst case scenario, are you leaving? » He was going to a show of (young) musicians from an alley in the Plateau, where Rue Laval turns into a cul-de-sac, in front of Nelligan Park.
“It’s in a loft. There will be synthwave,” my ex, who plays Sovietwave and who provided the IPA, warned me. “OK, but Cinderella slips away before midnight. » My curiosity was not disappointed. Forty pairs of shoes in the entrance to a loft/music studio, a slightly intellectual millennial energy. I felt like I was going back to a past life (my Berri/Duluth college days) from my current life.
– What are you doing tomorrow ? I asked my Frenchy.
– Ah, well tomorrow, I don’t know… but it’s “for-touwèni”!
My “for-touwèni”
On Saturday afternoon, in fact, at 4:20 a.m. (google 420), it was happening in all the Montreal parks, invaded by big bats and gummies with THC. It was Christmas at the SQDC. I decided to pass. But life was going to catch up with me.
At 4:20 a.m., the phone rings. “Hello, momz?” I wake you up ? » No, darling son, I only sleep in my previous regressions. Isn’t that okay?
It was bloody. Crime scene in Little Italy. The SPVM would have cordoned off the area. The knife was too sharp and it was late (or early, depending). I made a Saint Justine of myself and I emptied the pharmacy, took the book of my friend Sophie Grégoire Trudeau (she is a friend of all of us) and the last Asterix in case we decide to go to the emergency room for a few days. A mother is a mother is an octopus. It doesn’t matter what life we’re talking about.
Finally, it ended with a touching mother-son moment between confidences, laughter and sighs of relief, watching the sun rise. After making a rough whore, my B dozed off on my shoulder at 6 a.m. When I silently emerged from his room, he had his index finger in the air, as if asking the universe a question.
The greatest lesson our children teach us is to live in the present moment, authentically and unconditionally
I took the opportunity to clean up the traces of hemoglobin, tidy the apartment, do the post-party 420, start a load of laundry, go grocery shopping, cook your favorite soup (spinach and curry, rich in iron) and green juice (it wakes up the dead), make an appointment with an ex-nurse friend so that she gets her shit together again (thanks MS!), goes to the pharmacy to buy her an emergency kit, some gummies (without THC) and M&Ms (a kid is a kideven at 20), and feel useful like a mother watching on a Sunday.
I concluded that I was an Italian mother badass in another life.
Fafa, I have “ skip the demonstration” of Mother Earth. You will excuse me. I thought of you. Apparently there were no crowds and the end of the world can wait.