I evolve near the pathetic CH amphitheater. From time to time I get bruises, as Angèle Arsenault sang. Well, then I take my courage in both hands and push my puck to the land of the utopian return of the Nordics. As you just noticed, I’m a Dollarama poet! Despite everything, I love grabbing my pencil and pressing it with energy so that a zest of words spurts out between the serene waves of my school paper. My style ? I call it Mini-Wheats! It’s that my writings show off their frosty side with a few hints of humor while a more substantial back gives it the answer.
On September 8, for the third time, I went up on the tiny stage of the Maison de la littéraire to participate in the open microphone of an event cooked up by André Marceau and his Tremplin d’actualisation de la théâtre (TAP). What an exquisite corpse this evening! The variety of dishes offered is what constitutes the singularity of these hours intended for writing.
Let’s be honest, poetry is a form of literature that is often associated with the word hermetic. For 25 years, the TAP has opened its arms wide to welcome pens of all kinds, even those whose ink does not fit into any literary mold. The emulators of Louise Dupré and Gaston Miron naturally have the honor of opening the show. Then follow at the back of the pack the others who, like me, patent business clumsily perhaps, but always happily.
And what about you? Aren’t you afraid of suffocating yourself with all these words that you write in secret without daring to spit them out in public? Have you ever felt the adrenaline pumping through your veins seconds before you offer up your words? And the experience of fiddling with a microphone? The heart about to explode into a galaxy of particles? The cell phone or the sheets dripping with words that we jostle due to stress? All this under smiles, round eyes of attention and 110% respect…
Isn’t it time to leave your little embarrassment in the closet?
To see in video