An imaginary will.

A will.

There are many reasons to live. Some seem more futile than the others. In the end however, it all broils down to Nature trying to perpetuate itself by making the different species procreate, one way or the other.

Life is a chain of events, one after the other, without a pause in between. Each and every one of us experiences it, and no matter how we try to shape it, it still continues with the same global pattern. We're like small little electrons flowing, sometimes left, sometimes right, without a knowledge of what's outside the wire.

Fortunately, it can be stopped.

Will.

I lost the will to love. As a person growing up reading books from the French 19th century, Love with a capital L had always exercised a fascination on me. It came with a fair share of pain, but as Victor Hugo said, dying of love is also living off of it. ... A person is like a bar of iron. Some are more malleable than others, more adaptive. Some are stronger, colder. However, with enough strikes of the hammer, both can be forged into something. If the different blows have been given with too much force but no direction, the bar ends up being crooked and can serve no purpose. I feel broken down. Broken and cold and there is no turning back. If the iron is still hot, there is still hope mistakes can be corrected. If the iron is cold, it is too late. Blows after blows, I lost the will to love. I am cold and it is too late.

I lost the will to believe. I believed in people. As much as I sometimes despise the crowd and the herd mentality, I believed in humanity. I trusted each individual person was, in the end, someone good. We all feel the same emotions, the same happiness, the same pain. We can all understand each other. Perhaps I was wrong. I don't believe anymore. In fact, that's not true... I don't give a shit anymore. Who cares if people can be "human". People are way too human. We are the only beings that can cause that much pain in others. We will knowingly torture plants, animals, and fellow humans. Each individual can feel the sufferance being caused, but it doesn't mean one will stop causing it. And now, I don't care anymore, don't want to know whether everything is true. I lost the will to believe. I don't care and it is too late.

I lost the will to befriend. Friendship is another form of love, without the exclusivity, the physical attirance. I thought love was ephemeral but friendship was eternal. I think I am wrong in both cases. There is a saying about how affection is infinite. The more you love, you more you will. There is always a place in your heart. What happens though when the ones inside your heart tear it up from the inside? ... I was once told that falling in love is like rolling down a hill. The feeling is great but at some point it has to stop. Friendship however is like climbing the same hill. It's harder, but every time you stop and look in the distance, the view gets better. I believed that. But a climber isn't eternally one. A lot of these hills have "Do not trespass" signs. I lost the will to befriend. I am tired and it is too late.

Those made me who I was. I wanted to love, to believe, to care. I feel I've been wrong for all three. There is no more "want" in me. When Pandora opened her box and all the evils of the world escaped, Hope remained. When there is no more hope, death remains.

To my sister I give a world. I give her my laughters and my folly and the joy that was me.

To my family I give my money. The few material possessions and the numbers they so need to make the ones they care for happy.

To my friends I give my heart. The place where I held you dear and kept you company.

To the laydees I give my memories. The time shared and the unaccomplished dreams.

To the China doll I give the rest. I would want to give you everything but there is only so much I can give.

To the world I give beliefs. A trace of me soon to be lost.

And thus it ends. I have no will anymore, this is the will.

Goodbye.

L'hypocrisie de ma poésie frôle l'hérésie

Je me suis assis, au pied d'un arbre. Un petit vent sifflotait à travers les branches, ébouriffant mes cheveux, les feuilles. L'herbe ondule, des ombres mouvantes coulant à travers elle.

Dans le lointain, les montagnes. Pics bleutés, incertains. Un brouillard s'entêtait à y rester, comme de la ouate en train de s'effilocher. Et le ciel... Le ciel y faisait contraste, une ligne déchiquetée de part en part, d'un bleu pur, limpide. Cette immensité qui nous sert de couvre-chef, que l'on a toujours essayé d'atteindre, pour finalement y arriver, mais à quoi bon? Je ne sais pas. L'homme semble courir, courir toujours, courir encore, et ne jamais arriver. Alors que l'on est si bien, au pied d'un arbre.

Je regarde en haut de moi. Encore là, un toit. Un enchevêtrement inextricable de branches et de feuilles, le vert et le brun partant en jets, comme sous les pinceaux d'un artiste en colère. La petite touche de jaune ici, le reflet de la lumière là. Chaque feuille bruisselle sous le vent, petite tâche de peinture, pointillisme parfait et changeant.

Je suis une branche du regard. Ses extrémités fondent, l'une dans l'émeraude ensoleillée, l'autre dans un brun veiné de ridules interminables, tarabiscotées. Je sens la vie à l'intérieur, les fourmis qui s'agitent et se précipitent, la sève nourricière qui monte et descend.

...

Don't you wish you could manipulate time? Go explore infinite possibilities. Or at least, go back to a past you miss. ... I wish I could be a child again. Children explore infinite possibilities, regardless of their environment. Children are spontaneous. And most of all... when I was a child, I knew how to write.

It seems writer's block is only something that happens to adults. Because adults.. don't live. It's not hard to understand. When you wake up to go to work and come back home to be able to sleep and wake up the next morning, you do not live. When you don't have the time, or don't take the time to experience something new, you don't live. When you become too bitter, too confident to notice each and every subtlety, you don't live. When you're too stressed to think and be yourself, you don't live. When you don't live, you cannot write.

Words used to speak. Each word, each syllable had a personality, and it would play with you and with each other. I didn't need to force them, they came by their own accord. And they would lie down on paper, in perfect harmony. Not anymore.

Perhaps it's not really a matter of adulthood. Perhaps it's because the brain is getting rusty. If you don't see so many marvels in the world that surrounds you... your brain is probably rotten. And so you cannot write.

...

On ne maîtrise pas une langue. J'aurais aimé dire que je maîtrise le français, mais ce n'est pas le cas. Le français me maîtrise, ou me méprise. Je me complais à rester dans mon ignorance auto-contemplative, à débiter des âneries sur un papier intouchable, à pratiquer la masturbation intellectuelle en inventant des métaphores qui n'ont pas lieu d'être. L'hypocrisie de ma poésie frôle l'hérésie.

And it'll continue, if it can help bleed the poison away.

Quand on s'est rencontré

Quand on s'est rencontré la première fois
on ne s'est pas vu
J'ai passé à côté de toi un inconnu

Quand on s'est rencontré la deuxième fois
tu m'as aperçu
Je passais par là tu m'as reconnu

Quand on s'est rencontré la troisième fois
tu es venue
Je me suis arrêté et là j'ai su

On a bavardé de choses et d'autres
raconté des histoires, ton histoire et mon histoire
On s'est découvert l'un et l'autre
Regarder dans le miroir, le tien le mien le nôtre

Les mois et les ans ont passé
Et jamais tu n'as cessé de m'étonner
Au fil du temps a grandit notre amitié
Jusqu'à ce que rien ne puisse l'arrêter
Oh bien sûr ça n'a pas toujours monté
On a eu notre lot d'obstacles, d'adversité
Mais toujours on s'est retrouvé
A deux sous le chaud soleil d'été

Quand on s'est rencontré la quatrième fois
on n'a pas pu
Je t'ai serrée dans mes bras ça t'a plu

Quand on s'est rencontré la cinquième fois
tu m'as dit t'as su
J'ai murmuré des mots tout bas, perdus

Quand on s'est rencontré la sixième fois
tu t'es tue
Je t'ai embrassée, la tête dans les nues

On a bavardé de choses et d'autres
raconté des histoires, ton histoire et mon histoire
On s'est redécouvert l'un et l'autre
Regarder dans le miroir, le tien le mien le nôtre

Les mois et les ans ont passé
Et jamais tu n'as cessé de m'étonner
Au fil du temps on s'est rapproché
Jusqu'à ce qu'on ne puisse plus se quitter
Oh bien sûr ça ne peut pas que continuer
On a tous un jour à se séparer
Mais toujours on s'est retrouvé
A deux sous le chaud soleil d'été

Quand on s'est rencontré la septième fois...
Quand on s'est rencontré la septième fois...
tu n'étais plus
Je me suis brisé en mille parcelles disparues

Je ne peux plus bavarder de choses et d'autres
mais je raconte mon histoire ton histoire et notre histoire
Pour mieux me souvenir de l'un et de l'autre
Se regarder dans le miroir, le tien le mien le nôtre.

For those beautiful eyes.

On the Corporation, Part One.

The Corporation.

The jewel of our civilization. The best example of successful capitalism. Our life, on many levels, is being run by it. And we give it life.

If we had been told centuries ago that such entities would exist, we would probably have laughed. A virtual legal person? What a concept. It has its own laws but doesn't exist, is composed of humans yet continues on breathing when its parts are crumbling. As with Steinbeck, it is the ultimate justification. Kicking you out of your land? Sorry, not my fault, the Corporation dictates it. If I'm part of the Corporation? Oh no, I just work for it. Got to do what you got to do, right? Bread and butter to my family, dust and gravel to yours. Not my problem, find your own Corporation.

And yet, for many people the Corporation is a good choice. It provides a steady income, and usually job security. It has a good brand name, gives a certain credibility. And as a whole, it serves a purpose in society. Without Procter and Gamble, where would you get your soap? Without Johnson and Johnson, where the baby powder? Without Microsoft, how would you be able to complain about your computer? My argument is not that they are intrinsically bad. However, they are internally flawed. Flawed for the countless people without faces that work for a faceless but logo'd Corporation.

My experience is only based on the technology Corporation. In some regards, it might be different from the normal one, since in this industry, there are no cash cows. Well, okay, there are. However, they need maintenance and constant care, and often times updates and fixes, which is slightly different than, let's say, soap. Although with the development of 3, 4 and 5 blades razors, maybe P&G is not safe either... but I digress. The technology Corporation, as I know it, is inefficient. It fails in a number of things, from small little details to workflow problems. I am not pretentious enough to think I can fix any of its flaws, but if my opinion counted, I do tend to believe it could be a better place.

E-mails

Death to e-mails. Those things take time, energy, and complicate things overly. Now, yes, in an international setting, it is impossible to talk to a person face-to-face all the time. Matter of fact in any large company, getting to talk to someone might mean walking across half a campus. But please stop communicating through e-mails. It's the best medium to achieve absolutely no work while appearing busy. Oh yes, you have 54 e-mails in your inbox? Congratulations, do you want a medal? Get your freaking work done instead.

Now I understand, you're a manager, you have to be important, and e-mails are the best way to remind people across continents that you exist. But those people that are below you have work to do, unlike you. Unless you really have something important to say, don't bother. And I doubt you really have that much to say every day.

E-mails ruin my day, they really do. Instead of people coming to your desk and asking you something, they send a badly written e-mail that doesn't explain anything. I spend half an hour trying to decipher it, half an hour to solve the issue, and half an hour to send back another e-mail with full fledged explanation. Why!? Come to me and ask me, I'll explain at the same time as I do it. I save 30 min in the front and 30 min in the back. 67% less time lost, that's a number your higher management wants to see (you want better numbers? Be positive. "300% increased efficiency!" See how they like that one). And if asking is not possible... call. Please. There is a phone. It transmits voice. Voice is good, voice is fast. Use it, unless you have an incomprehensible accent like mine.

...

In the next episodes, in no particular order: software lifecycle, meetings, bureaucracy, integration, office supplies, technology, management...

The Third Degree

No, listen. You got it all wrong.

I have never said I loved her. Nor have I affirmed the contrary. Feelings are very fickle things, you are old enough to know.

Yes, there is a definite affection. I do care for her, and enjoy her company. I would have been perfectly happy to spend my life with her, yes. I would have enjoyed being with her through the sun and through the storm.

You get to see her when she smiles, and I do not. You get to see her when she laughs, and I do not. You get to see her when she screams, when she cries, when she sits and stays silent, and I do not. Although you too care for her, you cannot possible comprehend me.

I know it wasn't meant to last. I know, and had accepted that fact before it even started. If we live our lives as falling stars, I just wish the trailing path would have been longer.

I tried to make it easy. For her, for me. There is no point in prolonging the agony. The tears that were not shed must not be. The pain that was repressed will stay hidden. The words of love that were not pronounced will be silent. ... And inside, I will weep, throb and sigh. But she must not know. Pain, unlike love, should never be shared.

And please, please go tell him. He doesn't seem to see anymore what treasure he has in front of him. I can understand he was hurt. But as badly as he was, it cannot be compared to her sufferance. Tell him to look at her eyes, those beautiful eyes that shine for him. Tell him to look at her trembling lips, waiting. Ask him if those, if she's not worth living for. If he says no, he is not a man. If he dares refuse her, if he dares abandon her, he is not a man. She looks up to him, in love and admiration. How can you hold such a flower and decide to crush her?...

Don't ask me to meet him. I would call him an arrogant, spoiled brat. Unless he makes it better.

And don't tell her anything. Don't share the pain. I'll talk to her before the end, before death does us part.

Excerpt from Conversations of the Third Degree.

A toi.

Très chère Lise,

Je vous écris de ma tente, à la lueur de la seule lampe à huile de notre détachement. Nous somme entrés dans Caen, finalement. Enfin.

C'est la première nuit en plus d'un mois que je peux dormir sur un lit de camp. Les lits sont rares, et nos blessés, nombreux. Je ne vous conterais pas dans le détail ce dernier mois. Lorsque je vous ai quitté, je ne pensais pas que ça serait si difficile. Vous rappellez-vous Jean, le fils du vieux Fournier à l'autre bout du village? Je l'ai vu mourir à mes pieds, le visage ensanglanté. Il lui manquait son bras, et Pardon. Je ne voulais pas.

C'est beau, la Normandie. Enfin, ça serait beau si nous n'étions pas ici. Je peux imaginer marcher avec vous parmi la bruyère, et vous porteriez votre chapeau au ruban blanc que je trouvais si charmant. Le printemps ici doit être magnifique. Je me souviens de l'hiver passé, aussi. Nous avions dansé à la veillée, pour la première fois. Et cette fois votre soeur Lorraine n'avait pas eu besoin de nous surveiller! Et vos yeux... dans vos yeux, je voyais toutes les étoiles tourner, et tourner...

Nous devons repartir au matin. Le sergent Emery nous a averti que nous devons rejoindre une division anglaise. Il est bien, le sergent Emery. Dur, mais toujours calme, et il porte attention à nous. Vous l'auriez apprécié.

Je n'ai pas beaucoup de temps. C'est la deuxième fois déjà que l'on me dit de fermer la lampe. Mais j'ai tant de choses à vous dire...

J'ai si hâte de vous revoir. On nous a dit que nous retournerons au Canada d'ici quelques mois, quelques semaines peut-être. Avec de la chance, je vous verrai à l'automne. C'est inhabituel, des mariages en automne.

Mais si.. enfin. Si jamais je devais ne pas revenir. Je voulais vous dire... Ne m'attendez pas. Je m'en voudrais. Bon Dieu, que c'est difficile... Je vous regarderais, d'en haut. Je vous aime.

Pour vous, ma mie.

Votre Charles.

-Yes sir. He died in action. Nazis. He didn't suffer.
-Thanks.

-Lise, Lise, écoute-moi. C'est fini, on n'y peut rien.
-Mais... Charles, il...
-Il n'a pas souffert. Ne pleure pas. Il te regarde.

On the Relativity of People

So. Let me start by saying, I think people are stupid. You, me, him, her, them, us. Not because the average IQ is low. No, the average IQ, as you very well know, is 100. ... Which is still low, but I digress. No, it's only because people believe just anything other people tell them. So from 1 moron, you get 2 morons, and then 4, and 8, and so on, increasing faster than the number of transistors on a die. And then, alas, morons elect other morons. That's how democracy works. Except the elected moron has more power.

And on with the subject of power. See, democracy is a great system. It allows you to peacefully overthrow your leader(s) every 4 years or so. That's great and all, because people (especially women, I find. I know, I'm totally misogynistic) like change. And 4 years with the same living room arrangement is more than my mother would be able to live with, so same goes with political leaders, but anyway. The point being, democracy and a constitution usually prevents dictatorship. But sometimes it doesn't, because people are morons. Like what have Americans done with Bush? It's okay if you elected him once. Hell, I'll even forgive you for voting for him twice. But please, please, could you guys stop watching MTV and start reading political newspapers!?

I remember, a few years ago, there was a forum where people argued about the Iraqi War. Out of numerous people, not all American, I was the only one that opposed it. Which means I got trashed. And you know what, that's fine. Patriotism is a real force, and a true asset when it's well used. But damn. You have to admit that now, it's pretty obvious the war was completely unjustifiable, from a political, ethical or economical point of view. Well, maybe not from the economical perspective if your family deals in oil or weapons. But whatever.

It's okay to make mistakes. I'll add, too, that it's normal not to care about strangers living half the planet away. It's true, right? What the hell do I care if 42 Iraqis die in a bomb explosion?... I'd rather watch Paris Hilton. Because at least, she's hot. And 42 Iraqis are not even worth one Marine, that's very well known. Now for putting the country into a complete mess, I guess Americans should give away their rights and let their appointed political leader turn the country into a fascist state. Anyway. That wasn't the topic of today's post.

No, the topic I had in mind at first was mostly the thing North America (or probably all of the Western world) has against everyone that dares rival their supremacy. Like China. First of all, one question. How fucking scared are you? Of losing your job, of losing your dominant position, of having hordes of yelling Asian barbarians invading your homeland, pillaging your homes and raping your women? Next. I'll agree with something. China doesn't have a democracy. Yes, it's a dictatorship, but a dictatorship that has many people at its head, called the Party. How is it different from the States?... I'm not quite sure. I am not very politically savvy, I admit.

Heard about the toys recall? How China got bashed over it? I'll be the first to admit, chinese-made items have a tendency to be of lower quality. But they also have a tendency to be cheaper. Last I heard, when you pay for a Lada, you expect a Lada. And yet... It seems there's also a tendency to demonize China, while errors could be somewhere else. No, it's not entirely Mattel's fault, nor Chinese producers. I think it's a shared responsibility, but if it is, why does one party get bashed more than the other? I'll tell you, the toys recalls made the front page of newspapers for more than a day. The apology from Mattel was on page 14 and was 4 lines long. Thank you, fair treatment. And if you complain about local people losing jobs because of China... Sorry. Commercial treaties go both ways, the people you elect sign them. Start being competitive and get off that fat ass of yours.

Or how about Iran. Yea okay, they're going on about getting some "nucular" power. If it helps them provide energy to their people, good for them. Am I against nuclear weaponry? Absolutely. The last thing we need is a second Cold War between the West and the East. But Iran and their nuclear bombs is about as dangerous as Saddam Hussein and his weapons of mass destruction. And even if he gets them... Sorry, but no one apart from Bush would be crazy enough to use them. It's funny because the latest run for armament was initiated by the States, endangered by people using rifles. Putin's mind is already fathoming incredible things due to Bush, missile shield and all. I wish those two would be married, for ever and until Death does them part.

And hell, if Ahmadinejad wants to visit New York and Ground Zero, let him. I'm sure he won't pee on the site. I wouldn't either, because last time I went, there was no public bathroom. Truthfully, him being president and all, he might even have some interesting things to say. He might even pay homage to the victims. But of course, I wouldn't dare say he might be a normal person. If I do, I might be compared to Hitler, you know.

If only Easteners were white and believed in Lord God, things would be so much easier... oh wait. Where would we get the invented enemies from!? We should launch a Holy Crusade to cleanse the planet of the Unbelievers. Freaking people.