Beginning of the year. More or less quiet, reading and catching up on fall books. We love winter and the time that slows down. Return to yourself. Two, three jumbled stories this week.
Through the echoes of a manic-depressive year, I started a book: Cariacou, by Olivier Lussier. I don’t know the guy. It’s about deer hunting. A bit in the form of Pierre Perrault (and his Luminous beast), mixing everyday stories, memories and poetry. It’s very “guy” (advice to my friends who only read female authors, don’t go there, you might like it. The book was given to me twice by women…). And that makes a change from the lack of intelligence in the Greek tragedy of the deer of Longueuil.
In another life, also a bit on the hunt, there is always an unemployed pudding somewhere during the week. And I dream about it when I smell it in the oven or see it on the counter. Sometimes I walk ten kilometers in the wind and rain and that’s what keeps me happy: this thought that everything will be better when I get to dessert. Chômeur pudding, unlike a thousand other everyday things, keeps its promises.
There is also the pecan pie which did the job. Until this time when, in a reading-performance evening, I read a text in which my character said: “I am going to get married and start a new life with the first person who offers me a pecan pie. » We end up getting sick of receiving and eating it. People are fucked. But it’s OK, we learned to deal with it. I’m smiling here.
Still, it’s a new year and that sounds a bit like – theoretically – promises that everything will be better. It’s a theory, we agree. What do we really wish for each other? To avoid being disappointed? Success in your studies. An endless love. Health.
Happy New Year, big nose, likewise, big teeth. But no, it’s probably forbidden because of a minority who doesn’t dare to smile because they’re self-conscious or because of some kind of diversity, or because of an association for the defense of unusual noses, or is it because does it come from a patriarchal colonialist past? We are changing for the better, we believe, elsewhere in our demands and the changes we hope for (environment, human rights, etc.). Unfortunately, believing in it is not enough.
A few weeks ago, I was in Fermont. A visit to an iron mine later, impressed by the exploitation of the resource and the thousands of men (mostly) who work there, I asked a person in senior management if labor retention The work was a challenge. No, the salaries are incredible, and above all we understood three fundamental things, they explained to me: the workers’ rooms are warm, private and personal (the schedule provides for 14 days on site and 14 days at home elsewhere throughout Quebec, fly-in fly-out). Then the quality of the food is top (we understand that, and I hope there is some pudding chômeur from time to time). Finally, the third factor is the bandwidth for the internet connection (because 1000 guys on Pornhub at the same time). That’s reality.
We may wish and dream of billions of better versions of ourselves, alone, and collectively, in the end there is a huge gap between ideals and what we are. As much as I dream of a better world (especially when I come home soaked and chilled by the cold), the proof is in the pudding, as the adage goes.
Happy New Year, and heaven at the end of your days. I return to reading and winter.