OR

26/07/2018

06/08/2018

11/08/2018

14/08/2018

18/09/2018

15/12/2018

19/12/2018

27/12/2018

03/01/2019 20:00

03/01/2019 22:30

04/01/2019

17/01/2019 AM

17/01/2019 PM

18/01/2019 18:00

18/01/2019 19:00

Tient j’ai penser t’envoyer ça, je viens tout juste de le faire... hmm des fois je dessine une forme sans vraiment penser, je laisse aller. Et ensuite je la regarde et j’imagine qu’est-ce que ça pourrait être. Celle-ci je suis bien content du résultat, je vais te montrer la forme et ce que j’ai fait avec.

19/01/2019

21/01/2019

23/01/2019

26/01/2019

29/01/2019

Ça serait bien si tu pouvais aussi développer la notion de la productivité – en l’occurrence, production de dessins – dans le cadre de ta réadaptation. Ceci peut toucher les notions de motivation, d’estime personne, de découverte de soi, d’effet entrainement sur d’autres aspects liés au bien-être…

Sur la productivité

Être productif – pour être productif il faut trouver un certain bénéfice à être productif; que ce soit d’avoir du plaisir, de nous permettre de relaxer voir de décrocher, d’avoir un sentiment de progression / d’avancement / d’évolution…

La motivation est nécessaire à la productivité et elle ne viendra, selon moi, que si l’on trouve bénéfice(s) à faire l’activité dans laquelle on [veux être, dois être ou on est] productif. De plus, si on « dois être » productif, ou on à le sentiment de « devoir être » productif; ça pourrait être un obstacle à la productivité – dépendamment de l’état d’esprit de l’individu, dépendamment de s’il dois (réellement) faire cette action (ou tâche) pour quelqu’un d’autres (au lieu de lui/elle-même) ou s’il à le sentiment de devoir faire cette tâche (ou action) pour quelqu’un d’autres.

Être productif pour soi même versus être productif pour « quelqu’un d’autre » peut être perçu et vécu comme positif ou négatif dans les deux cas.

Certains pourrait être mieux motiver par eux même que par l’autre; et certains pourrait être mieux motiver par l’autre que par eux même.

Dans le même sens, certains pourrait aussi être « bloquer » par l’autre ou bloquer par eux même; par exemple, à cause d’une pression ressentit qui provient de l’autre ou de l’individu lui-même.

Quand on m’as demander d’écrire sur la notion de productivité je ne comprenais pas vraiment ce que ça voulais dire, la « notion de productivité » avait pour moi une connotation un peu négative; comme « chaîne de production ».

Oui, j’ai été et je suis productif, mais je n’y pensais pas dans ces termes; en fait je n’y pensais pas réellement – je faisait et je fais; tout simplement. Je n’ai pas pensé aux nombres de dessins que je faisais, bien sûr je sais que j’en ai fait beaucoup récemment, mais je ne les compte pas. Donc, en y pensant, c’est vrai que j’ai été productif – mais je l’ai été sans y penser, sans m’arrête pour me dire : « Je suis productif » et ce jusqu’à ce qu’on me le mentionne.

Personnellement c’est la motivation de faire quelque chose de beau (à mes yeux et parfois aussi aux yeux des autres) ainsi que le sentiment de progrès qui me rend productif.

Je dessine chaque jour, souvent je montre mes dessins aux gens – parfois je me dis que je devrais moins les montrer – ou les montrer moins souvent; je suis un peux insécure à ce niveau-là, c’est surtout dans le sens ou je ne veux pas achaler les gens.

Aussi, je dessinais souvent un de mes amis pour lui faire des blagues; et à un moment une de ses amies lui a demander si je pouvais faire un dessin d’elle – j’ai été content au début, après un petit moment j’étais un peu agacer parce que je me sentais obliger de faire ce dessin, qu’il soit assez beau et de le terminer dans un délai raisonnable. Tellement que je l’ai finalement laisser de côté et j’y suis revenus plus tard; je l’ai finalement terminé. Je suis content de l’avoir fait, mais je n’ai pas aimé la pression que je me mettais sur les épaules. À ce moment j’ai pris une pause de dessin pour peut-être 1-2 mois et j’ai fait autres choses.

Parfois je dessine pour me changer les idées, si quelque chose me reste pris en tête (un tracas, quelqu’un qui m’agace pour x raison(s)) je vais parfois dessiner pour aider à faire passer le temps, à me changer les idées. Parce que je sais que je peux devenir trop « accrocher » à ces émotions négatives; je n’irais pas jusqu’à dire que ça devient une obsession; mais j’ai de la difficulté à laisser aller (à me défaire) de ces émotions négatives par moment. Alors, au lieux de les maintenir et de « parcourir » ou de « répéter » la situation mentalement, je dessine et il semble que ça m’aide a dissiper le négatif et à « passer à autre chose », à retrouver mon calme, mon état normal.

C’est le fait de me concentrer sur mon projet qui permet cela. Je ne dirais pas que c’est facile, ou automatique – mais plus je le fais, plus ça devient naturel. Mais bon, heureusement ce genre de situation négative ne m’arrives pas souvent.

Je ne sais pas à quel point dessiner aide vraiment à ma réadaptation. Au sens ou ça n’a pas tellement changer le reste de ma journée/ce que je fais et ce que je ne fais pas – ça à simplement ajouter « une activité » à mon horaire.

Je sais que ça me rend heureux parce que je crée quelque chose et aussi parce que j’ai vraiment le sentiment de m’améliorer à force de dessiner, de parfaire mes aptitudes, d’apprendre. Puis je suis fière de tout ça. Ça me donne aussi un but de continuer à m’améliorer. Donc je pense que ce sont les raisons pour lesquels j’ai du plaisir à dessiner, les raisons qui font que c’est une addition positive dans ma vie. Voilà pourquoi je suis productif.

03/02/2019 20:00

03/02/2019 21:30

05/02/2019 21:30

06/02/2019 21:30

09/02/2019

En passant, certains dessins que j’ai envoyer récemment ont p-e l’air moins “fini” – ou comme ici j’en ai 2 qui sont simplement des personnages

Qui sont juxtaposer les un a coter des autres (sans scene) – mais je les envois parce que ça fait partit du processus; donc de par moment faire des dessins plus long, plus complexe – a d’autres moment faire des choses plus simple.

Le Ninja sur fond rouge c’est le dernier que j’ai fait, ca m’a pris 3 heures (entre autre pcque j’ai du faire et refaire et refaire la main hehe..) – je ne pense pas que j’en serait venu a le faire (en tout cas pas maintenant) si je n’avais pas fait les 2 pages “character sheet”, elles m’ont mener a finalement faire celui la. Au sens ou c’était le momentum qui ma mener jusqu’au “ninja”. Donc personnellement je trouve le processus intéressant et j’ai penser que ça pouvait t'intéresser aussi.

14/02/2019

05/03/2019

Je vais dire d’abord que ça semble être souvent le cas; il semblerait que mon dégrée de créativité (créativité au sens : aptitude à créer, à imaginer) est supérieure quand je suis vraiment fatigué. Le niveau de fatigue est un peu difficile à quantifier; mais disons très fatigué : 8-9/10 (et ou j’aurais dû me coucher a 6-7)

1 étant pas du tout fatigué, énergique - 10 étant trop fatigué pour faire quoi que ce soit, corps mou.

Mais bon je pense qu’on comprend le principe.

Donc ayant imaginer ce dessin vraiment violent/sombre, le lendemain j’ai décider de le dessiner et au final je l’ai arrêter vraiment tôt, je l’ai laisser comme ça – et c’est l’image qui me reste en tête; au lieu de ce que j’avais imaginer qui était beaucoup plus détaillé, sombre, violent.

Celui là reste violent, mais est beaucoup plus simpliste comparativement à l’image que j’avais en tête qui était « presque traumatisante » ou au moins vraiment troublante.

Peut-être que cette technique existe déjà, je ne sais pas. Mais je pense que pour quelqu’un avec une maladie mentale qui s’imagine des scènes horrifiantes, le fait des les simplifier sur papier peut être bénéfique. Parce que l’image créé, le dessin, superpose les images d’origines qui sont quant à elle dilué.

Donc, même quelqu’un qui n’as pas beaucoup d’expérience/d’aptitude en dessin pourrait utiliser cette technique de « simplification » pour remplacer ou reconstruire ces images négatives/néfaste d’une façon plus simple, donc moins dérangeante.

En tout cas, possiblement que ça ne fonctionnerait pas a tout coup, mais pour moi à ce moment-là ça a fonctionner; évidemment l’expérience et le vécu de chacun est différent.

Peut-être que c’est parce que je dessine beaucoup et que ce dessin est à mes yeux moins complexe que d’autres que je fais/que je peux faire/que j’aurais pu faire.

Peut-être que quelqu’un pourrait dessiner cette image simple, et que ça serait un « trigger » dans sa mémoire qui ramènerait les images d’origines qu’il avait imaginé.

Personnellement je l’ai fait, je l’ai sauvegardé et c’est la première fois aujourd’hui que j’ai réouvert le fichier sur l’ordinateur – j’y ai cependant repenser à certains moments, mais au lieu de penser à l’expérience de créativité traumatisante, a l’image violente que j’imaginais ce soir là quand j’étais vraiment fatigué : je pensais a ce dessin (et plus le temps avançait à une ébauche de ce dessin qui diminuait en qualité, en détails – comme tout souvenirs qui n’est pas réactivé à la longue fini par se « dégrader »

Je me suis aussi acheté une tablette pour dessiner il y a un moment – je l’utilise de plus en plus, je vais joindre sur quoi je travaille en ce moment juste pour montrer l’évolution (c’est vraiment pas fini et comme c’est la première fois que je fais ça c’est vraiment un apprentissage en même temps).

D’ailleurs, j’ai suivit un genre de cours d’une heure sur les couleurs, ombres sur internet, un stream – Webinar – en direct, qui était offert gratuitement (à cause d’un programme de dessin que j’ai acheté, Clip Studio) : « Clip Studio Paint Realistic Coloring and Shading with Concept Artist Magda Proszowska »

Donc c’était interessant, j’ai perdu un peu le focus à un moment – mais globalement je pense que j’ai été capable de comprendre/apprendre sans trop perdre d’attention. J’aurais pu poser des questions à la fin mais je n’en ai pas sentit le besoin.

Je sais qu’ils vont en faire d’autres et je vais y assister aussi, ce n’est pas exactement comme aller m’asseoir dans une salle de cours, mais je pense que c’est un début!

14/03/2019

03/05/2019

16/05/2019

7/06/2019

Salut!

Depuis notre dernière rencontre j’ai pris une pause de dessin, j’ai vraiment recommencer hier.

Entre temps j’ai essayer quelque chose de nouveau, j’ai trouver un programme de creation de jeu gratuit sur internet et pour me challenger, pour le plaisir j’ai essayer de faire un petit jeu en suivant des tutoriels sur Youtube.

C’est assez compliquer et je n’avais pratiquement aucune connaissance la dedans alors ca été quand même un bon défi.

Par moment j’était assez confus (parce qu’il y a beaucoup de code à faire et de petites erreures de frappe ou de placement peuvent littéralement causer des bugs voir “briser” le jeu) mais c’était une “confusion positive” – si je puis dire. Donc, c’était un bon défi – un défi plaisant! Et j’ai appris quand même un peu de chose, alors je trouve ca bien. J’ai quand même créer mes propres images/animations pour le jeu alors c’est faux de dire que j’avais complètement arrêter de dessiner, mais c’était different...

Appart de ça, je vais bien et comme je disais je recommence a dessiner!

Je vais joindre 2 dessins que j’ai fait depuis hier + certaines images que j’ai fait pour le jeu – et j’en profite pour t’envoyer aussi d’autres dessins que j'avait fait et jamais envoyer.

Hmm si ca t’intéresse, les deux dessins que j’ai fait sont....

*1warmup.png (la boite a lunch orange)

*askull-crackjaw.png (le crane avec les oreilles)

Haha en tout cas!

Appart ça, (si jamais ça t’intéressais de les ajouter comme ressources sur foliart.org)

voici deux editeurs (respectivement 3d et 2d) gratuit et téléchargeable:

MagicaVoxel

(3D voxels; en gros ce sont des petits cubes qu’on place dans un espace 3D – un peu a la manière de bloque légo)

https://ephtracy.github.io/

Piskel

(2D pixel art + animation)

https://www.piskelapp.com/

Merci et bonne journée/Bonne fin de semaine!

11/06/2019

3/07/2019

Je vais bien, je dessine beaucoup ces derniers jours et je pense que je progresse bien.

(Mes derniers dessins ne sont pas inclus parce que je ne l’ai ai pas encore fini)

3/08/2019

J’ai écris ça aujourd’hui (Je joint le fichier word) – c’est pas mal ‘sans contrainte’ ...hehe

En fait, j’ai bien aimer faire ça.

Away with words.

orl

The King of Spades

The King of spades doesn’t care who you are or where you’ve been. He has no reason whatsoever to listen to your babbles and to wear your shackles. The King is king and you are you. Yet you stand before him as if it was fate that brought you here; believe me, it is not… and if for some unfortunate reason it was indeed fate that brought you to stand in front of the most powerful man in the room, good luck with that. Aforementioned, he doesn’t care and you don’t want him to care because if he starts caring about you it will be for all the wrong reasons. Believe me; you don’t want that. But why should you even bother listening to what I have to say? You surely have your own opinions on the matter, your own beliefs and after all you don’t know me. Most likely you don’t even see me, surely you are hearing me? Are you?

The Fair Maidens of Stalingrad

“Why must we stay?”, she despaired.

“Because we have nowhere to go.”, the other one replied.

“But we just don’t belong here, we never belonged here!”

They were both born in Stalingrad, they met when they were respectively 10 and 11 years old. They instantly bonded and had been inseparable ever since. They only truly ever disagreed on one matter; one had been wanting to leave for the longest time and the other had never agreed. They both died during the assault.

The Many, Many Faces of Adrian Quayle

Curious how time flows differently for each individual. For Adrian, a year consisted of approximately 3 months; a month consisted of approximately 2 weeks; a week consisted of approximately 3 days and a day consisted of at most 5 hours.

Words of Doubt

What if.

Omri Casspi

2009-2018

GP: 588

Avg. Min: 20.3

PPG: 7.9

FG%: 45.4

3pt%: 36.8

Reb: 4.0

Ast: 1.1

Stl: 0.6

Blk: 0.2

Louis the Barbarian

I once lived with a man that would only play chess if it was “shirts versus skins”. In fact, I believe that everything he did needed to be in a “shirts versus skins” context. Playing piano, watching television, cooking… name it – at this point I’m not even sure if he owns a shirt anymore. He came to be known has Louis the Barbarian.

Software Ver. 7.0

The uncanny revelation was that disorder is nothing but a different type of order and that where disorder seems obvious to some; others don’t see it.

Pleasant Pleasantry

I used to own a car just like this one, it worked fine until someone rendered it unusable. It was an old car but I think it would have worked fine for many more years if that hadn’t happened. Of course, it was an accident – but I believe an accident that could have been avoided. Nevertheless, I don’t really drive anymore.

Copyrighted.

How much money is enough money? What is the amount that satisfies someone? Is it even really about the money anymore? It doesn’t make sense for one person to have more money than a 1000 people combined. Does it? Maybe it does – it probably does.

Cigarettes and Lemonade

Is there something sweeter than the refreshing sweet and sour taste of lemonade after a cigarette? Yes, there is.

Words of Inaction

I should.

Random scribbles

In random notes scribbled in a randomly found (but perhaps not randomly lost) personal journal in the Highgate Cemetery of London a man (based on the analysis of a forensic document examiner’s testimony) confesses murdering his late wife, Mrs. Poppy Elizabeth Carlisle, who, according to the archivists who thoroughly searched the public records, doesn’t exist.

6/08/2019

J’ai ecris ca aujourd’hui – encore une fois je ne me suis mis aucune contrainte... celui la c’est une histoire vrai par contre. Je ne me souviens pas si je t’en ai deja parler... mais bon.

Merci encore pour cette suggestion d’ecrire sans contrainte.

To be spared.

A true story and what comes with it.

I suppose I was lost; I suppose I knew it without really being aware of it. I had been sleepwalking at day and daydreaming at night for a while – or maybe not, but it sounds good. Fact is I was living with her, had been living with her for at least a year. Smoking weed every day – occasionally doing other drugs. A strange life really, as I was also in school, my grades were starting to suffer from it; some of them at least, the more “complicated” stuff – which is relative to who you talk to. Anyway, straight to the point: One night I suddenly awoke and sat in our bed. She was standing there, at the edge of the bed; holding the biggest knife we had in the house. It’s basically a big kitchen knife; similar to the Scream movie knife – yes, that big knife the killer uses to stab people – it’s probably in many other slasher films too – not that I know that genre very well… but yeah; just to say “that horror film knife” should give most people the right idea about it, the right image in their head. So, as I was saying, she was standing there, at the edge of the blade – holding that knife in her right hand, pointing left, the spine of the knife resting within her left hand, the edge facing upwards; she was starring at me. I was only half awake – she seemed fully awake. As I previously mentioned, I was smoking a lot of weed back then, all day – I was always high, so when I awoke, I was still high – more sleepy than high, but still. I looked at her, my eyes half-opened and I asked her what she was doing? “I’m cooking”, she said – at least, that’s what I remember. At that time, I didn’t feel threatened or anything, it didn’t feel weird… in fact, it didn’t really feel real – perhaps mostly because I wasn’t fully awake, and high on top of that. I’m not sure to be honest, but my reaction to that situation was just to go back to sleep, fall back in the warm fluff, go back to my needed rest. I’m not exactly sure if I remembered it the next morning – I know she wasn’t there; she had left during the night. I think for a while I was either regarding what had happened as a dream and/or maybe I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. I ended up repressing this memory, which is not that hard when you constantly go about your business and especially not hard when you are constantly high, which I was. Either way, now I remember it clear as day. I remembered it a while ago actually, it’s been in and out of my mind for quite some time. In truth, I’m not sure how I should feel about this. It’s hard to decide. For one, I’m wondering if it had any impact on my mental health. I’m wondering if I should brush it off, forget about it; at the same time, it’s kind of a big thing; did she want to kill me? If so, why didn’t she do it? Did she change her mind? Did she only ever plan to scare me off? Was she in a really unstable state of mind; and by “chance” I woke up at the right time? Was it the first time that this had happened? Had she been lurking in the night, thinking about how and when to kill me? I’m honestly confused as I cannot answer any of those question. I never mentioned it to her, and rarely ever mentioned it to my friends or other people. Is that experience enough to be traumatize? How can I trust someone again after this? It feels like there’s only questions here and not many answers, in a sense I think this still affects me to this day. Especially today, I’m not so sure why I’m thinking about this today. In a sense, it feels like “banal incident” – in another, it feels like I’ve faced Evil. In the end, I didn’t get hurt physically that night. But I think that if I’m true to myself; I’m scared, I’m weirded out, I’m doubtful. It’s true that at that time I was on a downfall – I had showed big promise, and this change in my lifestyle (that had come with her, with this relationship, that included drugs) didn’t do it for me at all and I was losing my future in a fight with addiction. It’s true that I wasn’t the perfect boyfriend – not by any means – not even close. But I wasn’t mean, I wasn’t armful, I wasn’t ill-intentioned, I wasn’t evil. I cannot say for sure that evil exist. But it sure feel like this was evil: Her, standing in the dark at the edge of the bed with a knife in her hand and looking at me while I’m sleeping. This feels evil. Surely there’s a “possible world” where I wouldn’t have wakened up that night and I would have never known about this, never had this image stuck in my head. And perhaps, in that possible world, I would be happier(?), I’m not sure – perhaps I would also be dead and finally, perhaps it would be exactly* the same as it is now (*but without that memory). So I don’t know, I suppose I already know that almost anything, under the right circumstance, can cause traumatism; yet at the same time, there’s a part of me that looks at this situation thinking: “in the end, nothing happened – so why in the world would I worry about that? Why would that traumatize me?” And then, I think: Well, not stabbing me is almost just as bad – maybe even worst, in a sense. Because now, I have the feeling that I was vulnerable and that she spared me. Meaning, that she could have easily killed me and she, for some reason, decided not too. Of course, maybe she got scared – or she realised that it was a bad move, that it wasn’t her. In the end, I don’t know that. What I’m left with are the facts: She had the opportunity to kill me, or at least hurt me really bad and she didn’t. She spared me. As to say that I am completely powerless. If she had at least attacked me, and I had defended myself; it would be easier to live with; because I would be sure of what was going on. Now, it’s like “nothing happened”: I woke up, I saw her staring at me with that knife in her hand and I went back to sleep. Like I said, I’m weirded out by this and I don’t know what to think about it, I don’t know how to deal with it.

8/08/2019

Clear Waters of Unknown Depths

orl

Anger in Prejudice; Lest we Forget

On the 12th of June 1902, Samuel Pope, a young engineer, was solemnly walking on a portion of what would eventually become the longest street in the state of Massachusetts. He had just finished working on a prototype project of his own; an invention that, according to him, would revolutionise communications. He was content. Suddenly, not so that it was a sudden event, but more of an unexpected and curious banality caught his attention on the other side of the street. He just had heard the sincerest laughter he had heard in a long time. He looked at her from across the street and began wondering how and why did this feel so odd to him? He looked around and it’s as if everyone was accustomed to such demonstration as they all continued about their business as if nothing of peculiar importance had occurred at this very moment; their world kept on turning before what seemed to be a banal public display of amusement… yet his own world had stopped, and how so? He wondered. And, with an awkwardly similar suddenness, he snapped out of it. A Man, passing by was smoking a John Player & Sons cigarette – which instantly reminded him of Margaret (That was her brand) and that they had been formally invited at her parents 30^th wedding anniversary that interestingly enough coincided with their own 3^rd wedding anniversary. How time passes by, he thought. He was running late, he would have to hurry – it was no ordinary day after all and he wanted to not only look the part, but to be the part. As he walked steadily along the street at an increased pace, he intentionally bumped into a man and, intentionally, ruined this man’s hat, which was obviously one of a kind and brand new, by making it fall into a puddle of dirty water; at least, that’s what the man was angrily claiming. Not having much experience with these sorts of situation – not that anyone can really have some experience with such occurrences, he thought – he apologized, in the the most sincere way that he could (considering the situation at hand) and offered to pay for the hat. The other man, insistent on the gravity of what had just happened and convinced that this so-called Mr. Pope wasn’t in the least serious about his so-called apologies, and that he could never possibly dream of paying him back the worth of such a hat and kept on yapping and yapping so much that Samuel had no other options, as he was running late, to apologize, again, and to start walking , again. Clearly this man is out of his mind, he thought, what an unfortunate mishap. A few steps further it hit him. Margaret was not happy. In fact, she hadn’t been in a long time. Hence why he stopped when he had heard that oh so genuine laughter earlier; she hadn’t laughed like that in years. As he continued his walking towards her, shocked by this important discovery: He thought back on the last 2 years of his life.

He had been working diligently on his invention, hoping to bring ease of life to Margaret whom he had loved since they were but teenagers and finally had decided to court, a year ago. At first, she seemed uncertain – for Samuel had always been an awkward man, lost in his own thoughts or even in the reveries of what seemed to others as daydreaming. He was nevertheless charming, for being “this kind” of man. But he was hard to decipher and not the most social of his peers.

Suffice to say that she finally said “Yes” and until now he thought that she had been happy, at least as happy as he was… but was she really? He hadn’t heard her laugh that genuinely for the longest time – maybe he had been working too hard and neglecting her as a result. In fact, that must have been it. His prototype had been taking all of his time, especially the last few weeks. He realised at this thought that, this newly found contentment, even thought was as real as it could get, also had come with a cost. Then, he realised that it wasn’t too late – in fact, Margaret always said: “It’s never too late to make right”, plus; having now finished working on his project, had all the time in the world to make her happy – to fix their relationship, to make amend.

He looked around him trying to position himself in the city and looked upon his watch, a gift from his beloved, it was now 6:31PM – it seemed he had caught up to today’s schedule, he even had a little surplus time left to surprise Margaret with a thoughtful gift like he used to do in their beginnings. There was a general store on the nearby intersection: “Today our new life, a happy life begins”, he promised himself. He would buy her favorite Whisky, one that he had yet to develop the taste for – a taste she had learned years ago; here he also would get her a pack of her brand of cigarette; it was an indulgence that he disagreed upon but he knew it was something she truly liked, so for now, considering the states of their relationship he would make exception and leave her to her habits – perhaps born by his own display of indifference; by his own negligence.

On his way out, he saw a florist. He reminisced the first flower he ever offered her: “A Margaret?”, she said, obviously a bit disappointed, a gift he had thought clever at the time, “How untypical of you to be so typical”, she added. And they both laughed. In fact, at this period in her life, Margaret, even thought she hadn’t chosen suitor, had been courted by many men and she explained that almost every one of them had finally brought her a similar specimen of that white blossom. Perhaps, that had reassured her, in a way, for he was somewhat of an awkward man. Nevertheless, the next day, he went to her with a single rose and declared his love under the moonlight’s caressing dim. He remembered the glow of her beautiful expression as he lifted his sight unto her person. Surely, he could make her fall for him again, he just had to redirect towards her that which he had held away for quite some time now: passion.

He carefully chose the rose he thought the most unique, paid the florist and went his way. “Almost home”, he thought as feelings of calm and confidence filled his self. He was not worried about their future together, of course he had done her wrong for quite some time now, but having today realised the current state of things: the situation could only get better, progressively of course – but for all his faults, he was a very intelligent and resourceful man; he would find a way back to their previous happiness, perhaps even a newly formed happiness, a better one.

Again, he looked at his watch; 7:19PM – he would be home in time today – he couldn’t really remember the last time that had happened, Margaret was probably used to it by now, she never really raised the fact that it bothered her that he’d never be on time; but it must have, it’s only natural that it would have. As he raised his head, his left eye caught a glimpse of an old house that have obviously and tragically consumed by flames. He had recently read about a fire in this district, was it this same happening he had been reading about? No, it couldn’t be. This particular house, or the remains of it, seemed to have been reduced to ashes many months ago and it seemed people had been leaving all sorts of flowers, some of them; most of them in a decaying state, all over the ruins, almost as if it was sanctified ground. How tragic, he thought again and as he did, he saw a woman passing by and quickly inquired her about what had happened here? “You haven’t heard? It’s a tragedy…”, her voice was calm yet infused with a sadness that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. She explained in details how a young couple used to live there, that they had been married for multiple years, that she was pregnant and he was an inventor and that according to the papers, he had made a miscalculation of some sort, an error that he was unaware of that caused his project to be unstable and that he had to abruptly leave the house that night to go buy some missing parts; had he told the policeman in charge of the investigation, that the house caught fire and that they weren’t able to save her. “May she rest in peace”, she added. She then touched his shoulder, handed him a dollar, wished him good night and went about her business. He watched her as she was leaving the scene, confused as to why she had given him change. But now he was starting to run late and tonight was a new beginning and he couldn’t afford to run late anymore, as he had decided earlier in the evening. He started walking again, trying to remember if Margaret had mentioned a fire in the area – it was yet another proof that he had been disproportionately absorbed in his project. It’s a good thing, he thought, that he was done with it. Somehow, even thought he didn’t know the couple that had perished, he felt connected the tragedy; Just like us they were a young couple and just like me he was an inventor, a peer, maybe we could eventually have been working together – maybe I even worked with him before… He looked at his watch once more, there was still time; he would go back, right now. He wasn’t that far and he wanted to know the address of the burnt house – perhaps that would help Margaret remember about the incident and if not, tomorrow he would ask someone else, someone would surely know and whilst being unable to name the ex owners of the house, an address would be all the same, if not better.

As tonight’s moon rose over this dying rose field

I drank again to once more engulf the perennial pains of your inexistence.

Not much time remains before this newly found old knowledge of mine

Is merrily unfound and only then will I again finally be unbound

From the fiery shackles of these burning grounds

For at this rate, tomorrow I will be happy once more

As if enlightened by some divine tremor

Solemnly walking towards those terrible blazing memories

Unknowingly satisfied of not knowing further

I am aware that this cycle will and might never end

At least… for as long as my body bends

And as Yesterday, Tomorrow I shall forever walk this path

Wearing my forgetful burnt ritual hat.

On the 13th of June 1902, Samuel Pope, a young engineer, was solemnly walking on a portion of what would eventually become the longest street in the state of Massachusetts…

Road Not Taken

Taking the normal path leads to normal.

Taking an abnormal path leads to abnormal.

Taking a special path leads to special.

It is possible for someone taking the normal path to end up doing something special or abnormal, but it is only possible because something special or abnormal happened, thus the path was not so “normal”. –

Quintessential Advocacy

Cellulary freedoms. Collageneous idioms. There is a tree in the yard and a war by the tree but the yard is well beyond free. So, let me question thee: Why does the Sun shines upon the tree? Is there a reason, really? Is it so that the tree can over time grow? Is it to cast beyond it, a shadow? No. No reason really; this was all a game, silly. The Sun shines upon the tree because the Sun shines upon the tree. It is simply a matter of geography.

To be spared.

A true story and what comes with it.

There’s so many unknown in this situation that it’s hard to think about it. Yet the facts are there to stay.

Hellfire

As long as I breathe this air, as long as I walk this plane; the fires of Hell wont burn. For I am the Devil.

Underclass Millionaire

Because, obviously. I have questions too. And perhaps you don’t want to read them, that’s alright. But I’m going to ask them. And if they are lost; so be it.

You say that you had a bad feeling, like I had done something “terrible” – or something like that, that’s what I remember you telling me. And then you told me that I was out of place and that you weren’t my ‘’boo’’ – true.

I suppose, my first question is: why contact me like 2-3 years later? I really don’t see the point in that… did you want to make sure that I did not forget you? I honestly don’t know why you would contact me after all that time to inquire about something I may or may not have done based on a feeling – was it curiosity (as in knowing if your hunch was a good one)? Was it guilty-conscience? Maybe you’re trying to make peace with the past. Maybe this sounds arsh – I’m not sure. But I don’t understand. In truth, at first, I thought you wanted to “repair the bridge” or something, apparently not – since… it doesn’t seem like you have any intentions of speaking to me again. Which is fine, believe me – maybe I would like to talk with you, I’m honestly not sure.

Second, from my point of view; back in the day: you were flirting with me. Maybe not hard – maybe not at all, but from where I stood; you were. Maybe I’m mistaken about that, although… I don’t think so. Still, it’s not like anything was going to happen and, yes, I was out of place – I shouldn’t have said that and I was somewhat delusional about our friendship.

And I remember now, that you said I scared you. Again, I’m sorry for that. I’m not sure what I did to scare you – I don’t exactly remember. What I remember is that you left all of a sudden to ‘’never’’ come back and that I had forgotten about you. And I was fine with that, why keep a souvenir of someone you’ll never talk to again/meet again? It serves no purpose. Especially since we left on such bad terms. I probably really scared you, because you left without a word, without an explanation. I had to figure it all on my own. I don’t blame you for that, but I did feel like shit. I did feel like I had done something very wrong. You know, yes, I was out of place but you could have told me. If I was scary you could have told me. I suppose I thought we were friends, and maybe we weren’t. Of course, you had and have better friend than I ever was, and it’s the same for me. But still, I thought we were good friends. And good friends don’t just leave without saying goodbye or without discussing what’s going on between them that isn’t working anymore. So, in the end: I was disposable to you. And it’s fine. But don’t come back to re-ignite the idea of being friends and then decide to let it burn again without a word. I mean, this is what you did. I don’t understand, is this suppose to be some kind of punishment?

You want to know about my life? If I’m not mistaken, not so long after we stopped talking – my father committed suicide. Of course, it has nothing to do with you. I say this because I’m not sure of what you will understand when you read. I couldn’t wear a shirt anymore; I had a constant tight rope around my neck. The best part? Earlier that same day, he came knocking on my window and I ignored him. The main reason I enrolled in psychology classes was to help him. I wasn’t able to. I was depressed. I was alone. But whatever I suppose I’m scary, I wish I had known that. Yeah that’s me lashing out at you in this sentence. Because I can. – In truth I’m not blaming you, I was beyond repair at that point, and you being there would not have made me able to help him. I don’t think there was anything that you could have said, or anyone for that matter, that would have made me feel better (prior to his death) and after. So, it’s fine, yet if you can get anything from this; Please, if you have a friend and he starts being weird or whatever, don’t just leave and block him. Help him. Else, you should not call this person your friend. And I’m not talking about me here, I’m talking about future events that may or may not occur in your life.

Anyway, the not-so-funny part is, now I believe I’ve cracked it. I know how bipolarity works or at least have an explanation for it that could probably be made into a treatment. I’m not saying I can cure it, I honestly don’t know. But I think I might know how it works. And I might have been able to help him, but I’m too late. And let me tell you that it feels terrible.*

(*Incidentally = /start)

So, of course, here I said something that may or may not be disproportionate. I’m saying that I came to understand bipolarity and that I could now help my father, was he still alive.

It might be wishful thinking. I might be what I want, and not the actual truth.

I’m not sure, really.

When I think about it, I feel certain that I “cracked it”.

When I think about it, I feel that I may be delusional.

It depends on the context.

When I wrote it, I felt it as true.

When I prepared to send this text to my psychiatrist, it felt as if I might be delusional.

It’s not his fault, basically unrelated to him; at least, it’s not specific to him.

If I told you that I had found a cure, or an explanation, to an illness that’s been taking people’s quality of life and led them to their early death. I’d myself feel conflicted about it. First, it’s a huge claim – many people work on these topics and, many illness don’t seem to be curable at this point. It’s huge, and maybe it’s true, maybe I’m delusional. Maybe it’s an illusion; maybe I want to say that I can help. Maybe it makes me important. Maybe it shames me into thinking that I’m too late for my father. Maybe it’s an erroneous belief.

For as certain as I was when I wrote this.

For as certain as I am when I privately think it.

I am as uncertain when I “publicly” say it.

I’m both very confident in the fact that I can give a meaningful insight in this matter and also very doubtful that what I think/believe could be of any use to anyone.

I have also other issues with knowledge/new knowledge in general.

Which – privately seem to make sense / but that I would highly doubt it I was to talk about it with someone.

One of which is that, for many reasons, it’s unclear to me if people are good or bad. And I’m aware that there is something in between that. I’m not thinking of a war of the Ultimate Good versus the Ultimate Evil. What I mean is, if I – or anyone for that matter – brings about something new and revolutionary; who will get the best out of it? I don’t know if the world is straight of crooked. I don’t know if the good people are in power. Like I said, because I realise that writing that – again – may sound like it; but I state again that I know the world isn’t all black or white. But there is black, there is evil. It’s obvious that no one is really in absolute control. But some people have more power, more influence and more resources. It’s not a fair world, the inequalities are flagrant. The disputes are never-ending, there’s war, there are people winning and people losing. There are people abusing and there are people being abused. Knowledge is Power. And I believe that if I was to write down my ideas on the way the Mind works, well… it might fall into the wrong hands. So, it is clear to me that I doubt a lot about the current state and direction of society. I might be delusional about that too. I’m not sure and it’s a reason I don’t know what to do next.

Here I’m again thinking that this might be the real problem at hand; my doubt about society. It’s true that when I was psychotic, I was certain that there was a war happening, hidden/unknown to most people.

Here I’m thinking that this might be the problem; I’m still scared that the people “in charge” are not good, or not predominantly good.

Another issue here, is that I am aware that I cannot be the first person to ever have the specific ideas I have about human mind. It’s pretty much impossible that what I’m thinking is unknown and completely new. There’s always a slight chance – but I doubt that I’m the first person to “draw” this model of the mind. But I cannot be certain, and going back the previous issue: I don’t want to make the world worst than it already is.

And maybe I’m wrong about the world, maybe it’s not that bad. I don’t know… and I don’t know how to be certain.

And again, maybe I’m delusional about this so-called model of the mind and this is where I’m “at” in my mental illness at this point.

I’m divided I’m both confident and worried about this.

(*Incidentally = /end)

After that, well – I became crazy. I started hearing my father’s voice, and then other voices. And I got placed, by the voices, visual hallucinations and other hallucinations, at center stage of the end of the world. The Apocalypse. I was trying to save everyone. Of course, not all the voices were “benevolent” and there were many, many plot twists in this grand scheme. And I ended up being sent in an observation room – which I escaped of, and then they caught me again and sent me to a psych ward. I was there for about 1-2 months, they declared I was ok. I left, took my medication for a while, stopped taking my medication; hallucinations came back; the conspiracy became even bigger than before, I was constantly attacked by both magic, spirits, satellites. I was talking to both God and Satan. I was convinced I could die in my dreams, and I had to fight all the time at night in dreams to survive, I was lucidly dreaming and killing people in those same dreams – or nightmares – just to not die. There we so many betrayals and twists that brought me at the highest of hopes and at the brink not wanting to live anymore. At one point they told me I had to kill myself and I truly believed that I needed to do it; but at what seems like the last second – they “pulled” off the plug of this situation and it changed again, and again and again. I was following there every word because that’s all I had and I wanted to do the right thing. I wanted to help people. I know it was all in my head, but it wasn’t at that time. They made me start smoking cigarette again – by the way I was not smoking weed anymore at that time. They made me chain smoke packs of cigarette, they made me burn myself, they made me hit myself with my fists, they made me undress in the street, they made me go naked in the snow. They made me scare my mother. And I could go into further details here, but I don’t see the point. I had to scare her, so I threatened her and got a bit physical – I didn’t hurt her, I only scared her. Then apparently, the effect was a success. She had locked herself in her room – understandingly – and I left, and she called the cops. They rang the doorbell – I opened the door and they had 3 guns pointed at me. The I got sent to some criminal psych ward – I went to court and I got “condemned” to spending 6 months in there, and they would revise my case after 6 months. I did the time, and they forgave me – as in I have no criminal – but all the time I was in there, maybe some people had suspicion that I was hallucinating – but I never told anyone, and when I got released it wasn’t known that I had hallucinations. And, I was still delusional – but there was yet another plot twist in the story, that came near the end of my time in this psychiatric hospital and it was that this whole episode of my life was me being studied by some people using satellites. So, you can only imagine how angry I was to learn that all that had been “faked” by some Researchers all along. Of course, there was no such study. And that took a while. It took a while before I came clean to my psychiatrist and I told him that I was hallucinating and it took even more time to tell him/them about the study that was taking place. And eventually, I realised that it was all made up by my own mind. And that was somewhat of a relief, but also somewhat of a trauma. Because of everything I had done – even if nobody got physically hurt. I was a mess; I was scared of everything. I had become so confident during this war of the end of time between good and evil, and now I was there; lowest self esteem I ever had, scared of my own shadow, scared of my own thoughts, scared of objects on table, scared of everything. Also, sad, because I had been hurtful to people, I had lost friends, some family members had died and I wasn’t there to support my family, etc. You know, it wasn’t a fun run. It wasn’t easy and to a degree it still isn’t. Then at some point, I started regaining confidence and this path as not ended yet – I’m still trying to regain my footing – but I’m getting better and I will keep on getting better. I tried many pills – at some point I stopped believing that it could help me, I would get the side effects, but it never helped with the hallucinations. So, I asked to be taken off the pills. My psychiatrist accepted and I haven’t looked back since. And I’m proud of it. Even more so that I was able to cut down the voices to a minimum by my own doing, and I have almost no visual hallucinations anymore. What’s still fully there, is the sensation of being touched; all the time. At one point it was very very hard to sleep because of all the hallucinations, mostly the voices and touches, depending. Then it started being only the touches, nowadays I’d say that I’m used to that, even if I would prefer not to be touched like that. But I’m working on it, I’m fighting it the same way I fought the voices. So I don’t know, I mean, again – I’m trying to be honest here: I’ve managed to do all that basically on my own, or at least: without your help. So, why do you come back now? And I know it’s been a while since you contacted me, but I didn’t know how to feel about that back then. Now I know that I’m a bit angry and mostly confused. If you want us to be friend, maybe. But if you contacted me to satisfy your own curiosity or whatever that could be; I’m not interested. So, now you sort of know what I’ve been through. And you have a choice. You either tell me that you want to be friend or you tell me that you don’t want to. And you have my word, I will fully respect your decision and I will be just fine with it. I don’t want to play games. I liked you before, at first for the good reason, then I agree that I liked you for the wrong reasons. I’m willing to try and like you again, for the good reasons, but I cannot accept an half-friendship or to be put aside with a silent treatment. If you want to be my friend, be my friend and let me know if something I’m saying is wrong. Else, I’d rather us not be friend. Like I said, I’ve been doing just fine. So, the ball is in your hands. Do whatever you want with it, but I think that after all I wrote here, it would be adequate that you at least let me know what’s up.

Solitary Confinement

I’ve been thinking about what I’ve said. Trying to look at it from different angles. Maybe I’m wrong to say that you were flirting with me. When I wrote it, I said this: “Maybe I’m wrong […], but I don’t think I am.” That’s how I felt, and that’s why I wrote this, because I was being true to my feelings about the matter.

So, perhaps you weren’t flirting with me. At the time however, I did see it as flirting. It was a bit confusing really… Because it was clear to me that you were soon to be married.

It was also a confusing time for me; whether you’d had been there or not. And, events kept making things more complicated. You ended up making things more complicated for me too, not that I think that it was your intentions. Fact is, we talked about sex – masturbation also. We were looking at each other on webcam, while chatting. You told me, more than once, that I was really beautiful. You eventually showed me your hair, which I assumed at the time not many people had seen. And then you also showed me your naked back, which I again assumed, not many people had seen. Here, I don’t know. What was I suppose to understand? I saw it as being flirtatious. Maybe I was wrong, maybe you were just exploring, maybe you just felt safe with me, maybe you wanted to show me a different side of you, maybe you did this for a completely different reason that I mentioned here. The fact is, it’s ok, it was ok back then and its still ok today. So, yes, this is possible. And, in a sense, it was vain from me to assume that this was anything else and it was stupid not to ask what that was; because clearly, I was mistaken and confused about it. And then I came out too strong; Because I assumed too much, because I was on the downhill, because I was high, because I was lonely, because I was sad, because I had no hopes and felt like I had been betrayed before and somehow, from where I stood, you just had given me hope. And then, I felt betrayed again. That was too much for me to handle, so you started avoiding me and I was not taking it well and I eventually made things worst and worst until I basically really scared you. And for that, I apologize again. But I don’t think it could have been different, I don’t think that this situation could have unfolded differently. And I’m not saying that as a way to try to apologize for the scares that I brought unto you or my behaviour or whatever. I’m saying that, because I think that, at that point: what happened was bound to happen. In fact, I believe that thinking otherwise is non-sense. Because what happened; happened. And I can think that I was wrong and I can say that I was wrong and that I did something wrong and it’s very true, very real. And on your side, you can think you also did something wrong and I’m not assuming you do, but I do indulge in the possibility that at some point you thought it, and maybe not. The point is, we were there at this point and time and this happened. It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t fun, it was probably somehow or somewhat traumatic for both of us; even if obviously experienced differently. And life went on and time passed and here we are. And I’d like to know that you’re ok, and I’d like to know that what happened didn’t paralyze you. The fact is, maybe I’ll never know… But that is not your burden, it is my burden and it basically is what it is.

Recently I’ve been thinking about “Roads not Taken” and basically, if you know me, it means I’ve also been thinking about “Roads Taken”. It’s interesting, in a weird way I suppose; in the sense that whatever I end up thinking, only the Roads taken have meanings, only those are true and the Roads that weren’t Taken are only possibilities; but impossible possibilities; which makes it, kind of absurd.

I’ve been thinking that I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Sarah.

I wasn’t supposed to be in Montreal. And I wasn’t supposed to met you.

Of course, that also means that you weren’t supposed to have met me.

Clearly here, I’m “discussing” (Or monologuing as far as this goes) with you, so, I come back to the Elsy subject, here, on purpose. But it’s clear that, if I wasn’t supposed to be in Montreal in the first place – many other events should not have been, many other people I shouldn’t have met, etc.

The point is, maybe, it became so dramatic, so weird, so unhealthy, so crazy; because we never were supposed to meet. Of course, as I previously mentioned; this is somewhat non-sense. Because we did meet, and it did become what it was and it wasn’t good. And we stopped talking, and life went on. And you contacted me again; and like I said, and I maintain this stance: I’m not sure why exactly and I don’t really understand what you want to accomplish here. Maybe there’s no actual goal; although I doubt that is the case. I assume here, that you felt as if I was an aggressor. You probably paranoid for a while because of the way I behaved, because of what I sent you, because of what I said. And you tried to forget me. And you probably ended up rising above it. And eventually maybe you forgave me or maybe you just had the need or feeling that it would be good to contact me and let me know something, or tell me something. I think you cared for me, like friends do. I think you were worried and wanted to check on me.

When you contacted me, I wasn’t sure what to think – as you can see, I still am unsure. I’m also not sure if I scared you again, or maybe you are just playing this “waiting game” and will contact me again (know that I’m not using the term “game”, in this case, with any negative connotation – it’s a figure of speech) or you could simply just have decided that you had told me what you wanted to tell me and that you now wanted to move on.

The way I feel about it, is that it’s a bit cruel. But maybe I deserve it. I’m not saying you purposely are being cruel; I’m just stating how I see it from here. Fact is, I don’t “entertain” too many relationships nowadays. And, in a sense, you messaging me has given me some kind of hope. Hope that I might be forgiven for what I did, even though I don’t believe events could have unfolded otherwise, like I said. Still, they might have; beliefs are only beliefs Afterall. So, in a sense, I’m still lonely – it’s probably why I’m sort of pouring my heart out to you at this point. I do have friends, I do have people that I talk too, I’m also not insane anymore, which is a plus. But I can’t say that I really have any friends that I can really communicate with, not at that level. Maybe those friends don’t exist anymore – maybe they never did (in my life) I’m not sure. Fact is, you’re one of the only person right now that doesn’t reply to me – and I don’t hold a grudge about it or hold you accountable for it; it’s your right. I’m not saying it’s not hard, or that I truly understand why (apart from past events and what became of our friendship). But it is what it is. And perhaps the fact that you haven’t been answering me – and other things that came to be in my life recently led me to writing all this to you. Maybe if you would have been answering me, I would have never written this. Maybe, I would have stayed on the surface of things, like I tend to do with other people, with many of my friends – in general – with all of them actually. So, for that, thank you. But I still don’t really like it. Ironic, isn’t it?

16/08/2019

En fait, je pense que j’ai peur de l’inconnu.

J’ai peur de ce que je ne comprends pas.

Par exemple, la compréhension du corps humain à beaucoup évolué au fil des ans, grâce à la recherche et à la médecine. On sait ce qui est bon pour la santé, ce qui moins bon et ce qui est mauvais. Pourtant, le tabac est encore vendu; sous forme de « droit acquis » et ne cessera peut-être jamais d’être vendu. Pourquoi? Ça cause beaucoup de problème de santé à long terme et, en petite dose ce n’est peut-être pas « si mauvais », mais c’est quand même mauvais. En plus, c’est très addictif. Alors pourquoi est-ce que c’est encore sur le marché? Le sucre, c’est bon. C’est mauvais pour la santé, encore une fois c’est le même principe. C’est aussi un produit addictif. Et la liste des produits qui sont mauvais pour la santé et qui sont encore en vente est longue. Aussi, les choix les moins chers à l’épicerie sont souvent ces produits qui sont moins bon pour le « consommateur ». Bien manger, ça coûte chers.

Alors, si on prend en compte tout ce qui est connus du corps humain; et on prend en compte ce qu’on offre au gens comme produit; on ne peut que se demander : Pourquoi?

Est-ce que c’est une question de liberté? Possible. Je suis libre de bien manger ou de mal manger. Je suis libre de fumer ou de ne pas fumer.

Le problème avec cette réponse, « La Liberté », c’est qu’elle est à la fois profonde et futile.

Elle n’est pas acceptable selon moi. C’est littéralement dire : « Je t’offres un produit nocif qui vas très fort probablement diminuer ton espérance de vie, qui est addictif, qui vas très probablement te rendre malade éventuellement, qui cause le cancer, qui vas probablement un jour te forcer à être hospitaliser pour des raisons de santé physique; mais c’est ton choix de le consommer ou de ne pas le consommer, si tu choisis de le consommer c’est de ta faute et pas la mienne. » Ça ne fait pas de sens.

En tout cas, pour moi ça ne fait pas de sens.

Bon, peut-être que je n’ai pas ici les meilleures sources pour présenter ces statistiques. J’essais simplement de peindre une image d’un problème globale.

J’essais d’expliquer, pourquoi je ne suis pas certains que les gens qui nous gouvernent sont bon.

Il y a beaucoup trop de non-sens à mon gout.

Il y a des inégalités flagrantes dans le monde. Du « hoarding » de ressources essentielles, des guerres de pouvoir qui affecte les plus démunis. Des gens oubliés.

Je sais que beaucoup de gens travaille à créer un monde meilleur, qu’il y a beaucoup de gens qui sont bon et qui essaient de faire une différence, de changer les choses. Sauf que :

La réalité, est qu’une infime partit de la population détient la plupart des ressources monétaire du monde.

Le fait est que ces gens-là ont le pouvoir de changer les choses et ne le font pas. Pourquoi?

Finalement, peut-être que j’ai des idées importantes sur le fonctionnement de l’esprit humain (Human Mind) – peut-être que c’est une fausse croyance que je cultive, un résidu de ma psychose. Mon problème est que si j’ai réellement cette connaissance, je ne sais pas quoi faire avec. Parce que si ma théorie est nouvelle, unique et exacte et que je l’écris et la publie : Je contribue à la découverte de l’esprit humain et je donne des nouveaux outils au gens qui s’y intéresse. Mais l’état du Monde n’est pas clair pour moi. Je vois beaucoup d’inégalité, je vois des abus, je vois des non-sens.

En d’autres mots, si je rédige ma théorie, elle peut être utiliser autant pour améliorer le monde qu’elle peut être utiliser pour le rendre pire. C’est trop gros pour moi. C’est un choix trop important. Ça fait peur, et ça me bloque complètement. J’ai, à ce moment même, l’idée en tête qu’au final je ne sais rien; que je me trompe : Je n’ai plus de modèle de la mentalité humaine au moment ou j’écris ces mots. Parce que je ne peu pas supporter l’idée de mettre au monde quelque chose qui compliquerais la vie des moins privilégié et qui faciliterais la vie des plus aisés.

Soi je délire quant à la connaissance que j’ai; Je me trompe.

Soi j’ai raison et c’est trop lourd à porter.

Alors je ne pense pas. Je perds mon temps, je passe mon temps, je stagne. Je joue à un jeu sans enjeux.

3/09/2019

Ok donc c’est officiel je suis inscrit au cours et j’ai eu le cours que je voulais suivre.

*La Philosophie grecque ou la naissance de la philosophie – Mardi 14 :30 à 17 :20

J’ai déjà commencer des lectures sur le sujet.

Le premier cours sera Mardi le 10 septembre, j’ai rendez-vous avec toi Mercredi le 11 septembre; je vais m’assurez d’être présent. Je te dirai comment ça à été.

Sinon j’ai été jouer au basketball hier en après midi au terrain extérieur au carrefour avec un de mes bons amis (depuis le cégèp). J’ai vraiment aimer ça! On à surtout lancer et parler. Quand j’était à Montréal j’ai passer de temps avec lui, nous avons même habiter enssemble pendant plus de 6 mois. Je ne sais pas trop comment formuler ça autrement, mais je me sentait « comme avant »; Avant d’être déprimer, avant d’être malade. C’était vraiment bien. (« It felt like the old days ») Voilà.

15/10/2019

Salut, j’voulais juste te dire que je vais bien – je vais appeler demain ou bientot pour prendre un rendez-vous. Je suis “dû”, comme j’ai manquer les deux derniers. J’ai recommencer à dessiner avant hier, je vais t’envoyer ce que j’ai fait a date, c’est ... encore un sketch, un sketch progressif je dirais. Je travail bcp dessus, mais c’est vraiment pas fini encore. Je veu vraiment le completer et qu’il soit tout en couleure aussi.

22/10/2019

Salut, voici 3 dessins different (1 avec une differente couleure/texture)

Le Panda gris “feel” doux sur mes yeux, j’sais pas comment expliquer ca.

Mais bon! Je continue le plus gros dessin aussi, j’ai pris une petite pause en fait, mais je l’ai mis comme wallpaper sur mon desktop pour continuer a y penser/le developer dans ma tete (Pas sur si je te l’avais dis dans mon mail precedent mais c’est un dessin que j’ai developper dans ma tete pendant un peu plus d’une semaine avant de le commencer sur “papier”, je pense que ca s’en viens bien!

J’ai eu une autre idee de dessin hier en allant me coucher, alors j’ai ca en tete un peu ce matin.

Le pandadragon c’est un logo pour un ami qui stream quand il jou a des jeu (a temps perdu).

Je vais t’envoyer le gros dessin qui est encore en sketch (la licorne), juste pour te montrer ou j’en suis rendu avec. J’ai rajouter une ville flotante en background, une tour, un.. “pic de montagne...” (J’sais pas comment appeler ca) avec un loup.

Les dernieres choses que jai fait/ajouter ce sont les 3 “Imp” a droite et les gnomes dans le coin en bas a droite.

Appart ca j’ai pris un rendez-vous hier, le ... 3 ou 5 decembre? Je ne sais plus a l’instant mais je l’ai ecris sur le calendrier.

La secretaire m’as dit que tu etait absent pour des raisons personnelles, ce n’est pas de mes affaires mais j’espere que tout vas bien.

Pas besoin de me répondre non plus ou de t’inquieter a poster les dessins en ligne, ca peut attendre.

5-6/11/2019

Tient jme suis dis que tant qu’a faire je vais t’envoyer ces trois dessins la aussi – que j’avais mis de côté a un moment et que j’avais oublier. Ils ne sont pas fini, mais mieu que dans mon souvenir et prometteur selon moi. En tout cas; je vais éventuellement les continuer et les finirs et je te les enverrai a ce moment la, mais je trouve que ca peut etre interessant de les mettre sur Foliart.org a ce stade ci.

Pour l’instant je continue a travailler sur l’alien vert avec la planete derriere.

...Et j’vais en ajouter quelques autres que j’ai jamais envoyer non plus, tant qu’a faire.

13/12/2022