The Writers Club

Le club des crivains

 The Writers Club
Creative writing workshop
The Writers Club. Creative writing workshop and support group and support group
Le club des crivains. Atlier litraire cratif et group de soutien
Centre Wellington, Montral 2015-2016
Organizers:
Bruno Debruille
Fernanda Prez Gay Jurez Le club des crivains
Writers:
Bertrand Poupart
Tony L.
Atlier litraire cratif
Matthew Peters
Mathieu Bouchard
Daniel Scott
et group de soutien
Michael Menezes
Karl Fontaine
Nathalie Sguin
First edition Centre Wellington, Montral
(CC) Kodama Cartonera, 2016
Montral, Qubec 2015-2016
Blog: kodamacartonniere.tumblr.com
Facebook: /kodama.cartonera
Twitter: @Kodama_Quebec
Design: Aurelio Meza
Kodama logo: Careli Rojo, after a character from Mononoke
Hime (Dir. Hayao Miyazaki, Studio Ghibli, 1997).
In Japanese mythology, kodamas are forest spirits. Their name can mean
echo, tree ghost, small ball, or little spirit. In Miyazakis film,
kodamas would only reveal themselves when the forest is pure. When pol-
luted by men, they die and fall from the trees like ghostly leaves.
This work is under a Creative Commons license
Attribution - NonCommercial - ShareAlike 4.0 International.
All rights reversed.
Made in Qubec / Fabriqu au Qubec l !
IV The Writers Club / Le club des crivains
Who Are We?
In July, 2015, thanks to the initiative of Dr. Bruno Debruille, we got
together as a group of people interested in literature and creative ex-
pression as a catharsis from everydays issues. At first, it seemed as
if we did not have too much in common: All of our lives had been
touched by mental illness and we were all interested in writing, read-
ing and debating ideas. We were just strangers with some common
interests.
From July 2015 to September 2016, we gathered month-
ly around a table at The Wellington Center. In each of our ses-
sions, we brought pieces of our writing to share and discuss
with the group. Each text was a small window to its writers inner
world. Interesting discussions and personal confessions would fol-
low. By sharing the ideas and emotions elicited by others texts,
we built a powerful empathy machine: in each meeting, we have
found relief and inspiration in our words and the words of others.
Since we started to meet, our lives have kept transforming, sometimes for
better and sometimes for worse. I would like to believe that, despite the
adversities and changes we might have gone through, being part of The
Writers Club has been a common guiding thread in the lives of its members.
Our first medium term goal was to work during one year and ac-
cumulate enough material to assembly a small literary anthol-
ogy. We have arrived to this point: It has been more than one year
of sharing stories, ideas, joys and pains and this collection is a
simple of what we have lived during our meetings this last year.
Finally, I would like to dedcate this common effort to Karl
Fontaine, a close friend, poet, painter and member of The Writers
Club who left us for good two months ago. I am sure that those who
met him will always remember his brilliant discourse full of metaphors
as explosive as his laughter.
Fernanda Prez Gay Jurez Who Are We?/Qui sommes nous ? V
Qui sommes nous ?
En juillet 2015, grce linitiative du Dr Bruno Debruille, nous
nous sommes rassembls comme un groupe de personnes int-
resses par la littrature et lexpression crative comme cathar-
sis. Au dbut, il semblait que nous navions pas trop en com-
mun: Toutes nos vies avaient t touchs par la maladie mentale et
nous tions tous intresss par lcriture, la lecture et la discussion
dides. Nous ntions que des inconnus avec des intrts communs.
De juillet 2015 septembre 2016, nous nous sommes runis
mensuellement autour dune table au Centre Wellington. chaque ses-
sion, nous avons apports des textes pour les partager et discuter avec
le groupe. Chaque pice dcriture tait une petite fentre au monde
intrieur de son auteur. Des discussions intressantes et des confes-
sions personnelles suivaient la lecture. travers des ides et des
motions suscites par les textes des autres, nous avons construit une
puissante machine dempathie: chaque runion, nous avons trouv
du soulagement et de linspiration dans nos mots et les mots des autres.
Depuis que nous avons commenc ce club, nos vies ont chang par-
fois pour le meilleur et parfois pour le pire. Je veux croire que, mal-
gr les adversits et les changements que nous avons vcu, faire partie
du Club des crivains a t un fil conducteur commun dans nos vies.
Notre premier objectif tait de travailler pendant un an et accumuler
suffisamment de matriel pour assembler une petite anthologie. Nous
sommes arrivs ce point: Aprs une anne de partager des histoires,
des ides, des joies et des douleurs, on imprime ce recueil comme
chantillon de ce que nous avons vcu pendant nous runions.
Pour en finir, je voudrais ddier cet effort commun la m-
moire de Karl Fontaine, ami proche, pote, artiste-peintre et membre
du Club des crivains qui nous a quitts il y a deux mois. Je suis sr
que ceux qui lont rencontr se souviendront toujours de son brillant
discours plein de mtaphores aussi explosives que son rire.
VI The Writers Club / Le club des crivains
Karl once gave me this piece of advice: Never drop your pen.
Write, just write. Do not care for now who is going to read you: Take
a typewriter and turn that blue vertigo of the world into magic. Karls
words still resonate in my mind. I hope that, through this small book,
his wise counsel will also echo in the minds of all its writers and read-
ers.
Fernanda Prez Gay Jurez
Member and Organizer of TWC
September, 2016
Fernanda Prez Gay Jurez Who Are We?/Qui sommes nous ? VII
Avant de partir, Karl ma donn ce conseil: Ne laissez jamais
tomber ton stylo. Il faut crire ! Ne te proccupes pas pour linstant de
qui va te lire. Prends ta machine crire et utilise-la pour tourner ce
vertige bleu du monde en magie . Ses paroles rsonnent encore dans
mon esprit. Jespre que, grce ce petit livre, ses sages conseils feront
galement cho dans lesprit de ses crivains et ses lecteurs.
Fernanda Prez Gay Jurez
Membre et organisateur de TWC
Septembre 2016
 0 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains
Zero
by Dan Scott
During crusades thousands of people were massacred to acquire liter-
ature. That happened to contain this information at its pinnacle. Some
people feel that the Holy Grail is this information and not a literal cup.
Its ridiculous, however plausible, that people would kill for an object
although it would have made more sense that they killed for useful/
powerful information. Its true that Jesus was a real guy although Im
guessing he drank from many different cups. The Holy Grail itself,
the most important information discovered during the crusades is the
knowledge that ordinary reality is an illusion. Using math and logic to
demonstrate how powerful and versatile nothing is, I want to explore
this mathematically. Because we can count them, we can say numbers
are things on the island that is ordinary reality. Even if on the sur-
face it looks like numbers come from other numbers [matter makes
matter], the truth is that all numbers essentially come from and re-
turn to nothing. We can scrutinize numbers and scratch the surface of
the ordinary by dividing them, like when I was a kid and first divided
1/3 and I reckoned something unusual had happened. I thought it
was strange after learning to count up from zero to be able to end
up with separate infinities unless everything was made of infinity and
basically nothing at the same time. I wondered how three infinities
come from one number unless infinity worked backwards in time [to
talk in a linear sense] and kind of hiding behind every number, no
matter whether you counted up or down. I had a funny and inquisi-
tive feeling that something paradoxical had to be happening under the
surface of the mundane and if it was taking place it was all of the
time. I had many questions I kept to myself,like assuming that noth-
ings everything then what and who are we, what if were all nothing
andourselves at the same time and what if no number is really greater
than any other number so all of us could have limitless power. What
if nothing matters. It would be inextricably related to us at all times.
Dan Scott Zero 1
If we understand that the sole property of nothing is that it
amplifies then we can say that zero is multiplication and that this is
how we can multiply zero by infinity and get infinity with any number
[it becomes zero or infinite]. Its the Master of all the numbers because
its the sum total of every number and no number at the same time.
It can make, it can unmake it can turn any number into itself or turn
itself into any number. Examining numbers like this we can see how
good the unknown is at covering itself up with the ordinary. Most
people werent aware that zero is infinity and most mathematicians
would also disagree with this. The same way I cangive infinity names
so I can talk about nothing [although its utterly nameless], mathemati-
ciansdescribed zero as a numberin order to define negative numbers
[incorrectly]. I heard people talking about some stupid debate that ac-
tually took place in the 90s as to whether 0 was actually a number. I
laughedbecause scientists and most of us try to explain the metaphysi-
cal away as something ordinary on a regular basis.
A professional mathematician would state that infinity is 1/0
that zero wouldnt be the same as infinity. They would also talk about
negative numbers being less than zero when theyre clearly more than
zero because theres an amount left and any amount is alwaysgreater
than zero. They would have to take zero into account as infinity to
stop making that error. Theres no such thing as less than zero because
zero is nothing and nothing is infinity [its final]. Scratching through
the surface in this way we can see how every number has zero at its
foundation, indicating that we live in a paradox and that the ordinary
worlds an illusion. We can become nothing by becoming everything
and we can become everything by becoming nothing. Theres never
truly a beginning or end and infinity just imagines all the numbers into
existence to tell a story if every path leads nowhere and no path leads
everywhere. Its easy for somebody who understands this to see why
scientists have been talking about harnessing zero point energy [limit-
less power from any location in ordinary reality].
Getting more in depth, its said that the sum of all real num-
bers is undefined but logicians and mathematicians made a mistake in
formulating the rules concerning zero. The hypothesis that all numbers
might sum to zero was tested using a mathematical system where the
value of zero is pre-set to be nothing. In ordinary math, all values are
 2 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains
relative to zero as nothing, so of course we would discover that all
real numbers do not sum to zero. If it were not so, the logical consist-
ency of mathematics would be destroyed. Because we develop math
to count and zero represents nothing, it makes sense that we dont
commonly switch into a system where zero is the sum of all numbers,
although it can be doneit just cant be done half way. As the saying
goes, its all or nothing. Either we can see zero as every number or we
can see zero as nothing.
Its only logical that a test of the value of zero has to be a
genuine consideration of the value of zero. If we test zero as the sum
of all numbers we must allow its usual value of nothing to change
to a value equal to the sum of all numbers. This means that we would
accept zero to have a value greater than all other numbersmost of us
can understand how this is a bit radical. If we sum all numbers instead
of cancel all numbers, we alter the entire value system, and suddenly
we have what appears at first to be nonsensical. If zero is the greatest
value; i.e., the sum of all numbers, what then is the value of the num-
ber one, or two? Which is greater, one or twoif zero is greater than
both? The simplest most straightforward way of summing all numbers
is to sum the equal but opposite numbers. So for a moment we will
imagine that the correct sum of all numbers does sum up to and equal
zero, except this means that we need to change the value of zero away
from being no things. We need to treat zero as the largest value in
the mathematical system and this includes the two already vast infini-
ties of positive and negative numbers. Suddenly zero has become an
infinite whole that contains all other numbers. Every positive and every
negative number on the real number plane is summing or combining
together to form an ultimate number of absolute value. Obviously this
is not math as we know it. This is math without false limitations, with-
out process, math of principle and truly infinite values.
Tony L. Stigma 3
Stigma
By Tony L.
Je suis prisonnier, tant de la psychiatrie comme de mon rve.
Karl Fontaine
Growing up I heard the word used a few times: Stigma against race,
stigma against homosexuals, stigma against the handicapped. When
hearing these, I just laughed them off... calling them a bunch of weak
complainers.
Little did I know that years later it would completely backfire
on me. I applied for a job, the interview went perfect, but they didnt
accept me because they wanted to ensure they had someone stable. I
remember walking on the street and throwing my jacket on the floor
out of anger, almost screaming in the air at the injustice. Then I once
dated a girl, we had 3 dates and they were absolutely perfect, not even
Hollywood could have scripted them better. But on the third date, feel-
ing we were really close at that point, I decided to tell her about my
past mental health history. Afterwards she didnt answer my calls for 3
days and I had no idea why. Then finally she texted me, saying she was
scared and frightened that what happened to me would happen again,
and she wanted to build a future with someone more stable. It broke
my heart, I was so sad and found it such a shame, a perfect relationship
destroyed by someone who is scared and doesnt understand.
Then finally, in a facebook group chat of about 40 people, an
online bully said I must have made a certain statement because I hear
voices in my head. Not only did he publicly make fun of me, but he
claimed I hear voices in my head which isnt even true. I was never
angrier in my life, I saw only red, I wanted to kill him... but I kept my
composure, stated that I do not hear voices in my head, and left the
chat permanently.
I now know the meaning of the word Stigma, I have experi-
enced it in the most personal way possible. And all this anger inside of
me is not forgotten... I vow to fight this stigma for the rest of my life.
 4 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Mathieu Bouchard Disturbed 5

Fifty or a hundred years from now, perhaps this Stigma against

mental illness wont exist anymore. But it has to start somewhere. And
its us, the peers and community friends, who will have to fight for this
cause, because no one will do it for us, and this Stigma has to end once
and for all. Disturbed or Disturbing?
By Mathieu Bouchard
Tonight, I am asking a question: Is psychiatry addressing the problem
of being disturbed, or is it rather addressing the problem of being
disturbing? In other words, is the nature of mainstream biomedical
psychiatric practice closer to that of other medical specialities, or is it
closer to that or correctional agents and jailers? I think to anyone who
has been psychiatrized at any point in their lives, the question eventu-
ally comes up. So I argue that this is a legitimate question to ask around
this table tonight.
Despite the medical rhetoric surrounding the core of psychiat-
ric practices of diagnosis, medication, and internment, there is limited
evidence to support the medical benefits of those practices. After a
small group of psychiatric survivors held a hunger strike in the sum-
mer of 2003, demanding that various groups, including the [American
Psychiatric Association], produce scientifically valid evidence for the
biological basis of mental illness, the APA eventually released a state-
ment that admitted brain science has not advanced to the point where
scientists or clinicians can point to readily discernible pathologic le-
sions or genetic abnormalities that in and of themselves serve as reli-
able or predictive bio-markers of a given mental disorder or mental
disorders as a group (Coleman 2008: 343). So basically, what the APA
acknowledged is that there is no scientific basis to explain emotional
distress as brain chemical imbalance.
Many who, like me, have been interned in psychiatric facilities,
are wondering how such a traumatizing experience as being deprived
of liberty, denied citizenship rights, and forced to ingest often wildly
excessive amounts of various drugs, is in any way medically beneficial.
In the perspective of a patient, the discrepancy in power, authority, and
legitimacy that is construed in the relation between a psychiatrist and
his patient through the professional act of diagnosing is truly scary.
Psychiatric diagnosis is legitimated through an unsubstantiated medical
metaphor. Diagnosis results in the social delegitimation of patients.
 6 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Matthew Peters Migraine 7

Social delegitimation leads to stigmatization, marginalization, and ex-

clusion. Again, hardly medical benefits.
The prevalent evidence-based practice movement within
medicine and psychiatry is highly illustrative of this extreme power
imbalance between psychiatrist and patient. The evidence-based prac- Migraine; or Strife
tice paradigm promotes a hierarchy in the validity of knowledge. It is by Matthew Peters
claimed that best psychiatric practices should be informed by the
most valid forms of evidence. In this hierarchy, systemic reviews in- This poor weak matter consumes
cluding randomized controlled trials are presented as the most valid every thought, wish, and desire
form of evidence, while the opinions of service users and careers are rampantly, devours with cavalier haste
considered the least valid form of evidence. recognition raging against wayward doubt.
The key takeaway of evidence-based practice is simple: the pa-
tient doesnt know what is good for himself since he is mentally ill. Words flounder and arms jiveglistening
Therefore, the only person who can legitimately determine the appro- in orange lightsmoke rises in the night,
priate treatment is the psychiatrist who has his file, because he is the dispelled by eyes glancing and smiles
one who knows about systematic reviews and randomized controlled flickering. Swaying passions exhaust
trials.
Once you accept those assumptions, you basically give the keys and staccato rhythms give way
of your life to someone else. to contemplative notes sounded once, twice,
Again, how is this radical form of disempowerment medically thrice, and the moment of the present
beneficial? carries the obviousthe very novel thing.

References
Coleman, G. (2008). The Politics of Rationality: Psychiatric
Survivors Challenge to Psychiatry. In Kavita P., de Costa,
B. (Eds.), Tactical Biopolitics. Cambridge: MIT Press.
Glasby, J., Beresford, P. (2006). Who knows best? Evidence-based
practice and the service user contribution. Critical Social Policy,
26(1): 268-284.
8 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Bertrand Poupart Sortir ce soir 9

Sans titre Sortir ce soir

par Karl Fontaine par Bertrand Poupart
Hibou perch Cest drle, sortir ce soir, ne me dit pas
du haut Jai comme trouv la calme la maison chez moi
dun coupe cheveux Je devrais sortir, dpenser largent
en mme temps coupant mais je nen ai tellement pas normment
le temps a ne me tente pas de jouer, jouer
dun pic--bois je prfre crire ma sagesse divulgue
qui sveille Mes amours sont dj connues
la lisire alors pourquoi entretenir linconnu
dune frnsie Je sortirai encore du
dans laquelle de me voir sortir dchut
se trouve toute mlodie
qui quelque fois Sans pourquoi je suis maintenant
retombe Mon itinraire sans pour autant
et parmi ses cendres ne rflchir que les espoirs grandissant
les couleurs me laissent les choix soffrant
Sentament
dans la valise Mais rien narrive encore
du temps cest comme le tison qui se veut mort
Jexiste que dans ma tte
et si combien Et je nai plus peur des ftes
o tant perdue Sortir ce soir
je visite tout de mme Avec toi on fera la foire.
le sage
qui me conseille
de boire une gorge
toute liquorifiante
de cette pleine gaiet.
10 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains
The Flower Sellers
by Michael Menezes
I guess I didnt know what to tell him at that point. What do you even
say in a situation like that? Do you tell him its over? That its done?
Tell him to go out and gather some nice framed photographs and start
preparing for the closed casket funeral? Because at this pointand the
red-faced, breathless gentleman before me knew as well as Ithat boy
was long gone and lost to the world, stowed away under a trap door in
one of three to four hundred gypsy boat houses anchored along the
southern port. Somewhere in that floating city, the boy, his son, was
alive sure, but lost lost so far beyond finding....
But he wouldnt have it. It was the flower sellers! he thundered
for the hundredth time. The flower sellers, he repeated quietly after a
long, stuttering breath. Theydjust listen to me, he insisted, he and
his son had stopped by the portside market to pick up flowers for his
wifes birthday. This was a grimy grey harbour town, you see, perched
on an island. It was a centre for trade and nothing else. So grains, fruits,
produce or livestock of any kindwell that was all shipped in from
fields and farms on the mainland. But herbs and teas, charms and trin-
kets, and flowerswere peddled exclusively by the boat dwellers. They
came in from the eastor no one really knew where they came from,
except that they were here, here en masse, and here to stay. He was
tired that day he said. Sleepy. And the girl who was manning the shop,
she was she was very pretty, he added slowly. Hed turned his back
for an instant to purchase a charming, golden bouquet at the only stand
for miles stocking sunflowers in this fallalmost winterseason and
in that brief instant, the boy was gone. It was the flower sellers.
I hadnt the heart to tell him, I guess. You put on airs. You tell
yourself, you tell the world that life as a private investigator in a dark
and dingy, back alley city hardens you, but all it takes is a single missing
child, a single desperate, quivering, tearstained face, and youre making
decisions thatwell theyre questionable at best. You see, they scared
methe boat dwellers. There were thousands of them, and there was
Michael Menezes Flowers Sellers 11
only one of me, and I got the feeling that they knew usthey knew
the city. They saw us with our blinkers on, living our narrow little lives
down our narrow little streets. But we knew nothing about them. They
were an unknown. I hadnt the heart the heart to tell him that, so there
I was, wandering down the portside searching for sunflowers in late
October.
It was remarkably easy to find, actually; it stood out among the
thirty odd flower shops beside it like... a flower in a field. It felt some-
how brighter, more vivid than its surroundings, as if the edge of every
petal of every perfectly arranged bouquet was individually singing into
the dull, flickering lamplight. So I walked towards it. She was, she was
lovely. She had flowers in her hair and a smile that played upon her lips
like a musical instrument like a harp or a and I I mean itd
been a while since Id last slept now that I thought about it, and maybe
that was it. Maybe that was what was blurring everything, melding it
all into a wave of bright and hazy colour and music. But I saw through
it all, I realized even then that something was that something was
strange about this. My senses may have been swimming but my mind
was still as keen... as a tack and I asked her about the boy and I
followed her into the boats, through the thick, pearly curtain of salt-
stained sails and into the floating city.
They were singing and dancing and feasting, makeshift stoves
at every other deck and great big cauldrons of aromatic soups and
stews wafting perfumed poetry into the evening air. In every whirling
head of hair, a flower. Around every wrist a charm, a golden bangle, a
coloured handkerchief. She had a seashell bracelet around her own; I
saw it as she led me through the labyrinth by the arm, through a wind-
ing maze of sails and sunburnt, smiling faces, with the lamplight danc-
ing off her dark, twisting auburn braids like a will o wisp in a mindless
fog, for she was the brightest thing of all here. She led me to himthe
boy: brown hair, green eyes, grey waistcoat and slacks. I clasped my
hands around his wrist. He was seated at a stove. There were flowers
in his hair. There was a charm around his wrist. The shadow and the
firelight crept about his features, swaying to the dull and heavy drum
beats calling out from two boats away. I asked if he was William, and
he said he didnt know. I told him that his father was searching for him.
He said he didnt want to stay, but also, he paused, that he didnt want
to leave. I didnt understand.
12 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Natalie Sguin Chanson 13

She asked me if Id like to dance with her and I but I asked

her about the flowers in her hairthat they were so, so golden. I asked
her about the firelight, and the perfume, and the crimson seashell
bracelet down her wrist. I asked if she was from the city, why her hair
was brown and her skin was fair. She frowned and kissed me on the Chanson sous le thmeTravailler,
cheek, and lead me back to the harbour. The city was so, so grey; I felt cest trop dur , de Zacchary Richard
as though I couldnt see at all. I woke up in my office with a bottle of
par Nathalie Sguin
whisky spilled across my desk. Jesus Christ, I dont know. I dont know
what to tell him. Do I go back? Can I go back? Where am I now? I
Savoir aimer cest se forcer
dont feel alive. I dont know what to do.
Cest faire des sacrifices
Moi je dis que la vie
Vaut la peine quand on saime.

Sans amour aux alentours

La tristesse est notre seule vitesse
Pis chial comme un veau
Ce nest pas a quy a de plus beau
Dans le vide, on se noie
Pis ya plus rien qui vaut de quoi
Cest comme a que je raisonne
Quand ya plus personne
Quand a sonne dans personne.
14 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Matthew Peters My Seasons... 15

La Patience aux jeux My Seasons Harvest

par Betrand Poupart by Matthew Peters
Depuis 2 ans, chaque semaine, plusieurs fois par jour, je joue au To be on the far seas
Scrabble, un jeu de socit pour tous ges. at liberty
Facile daccs, je me dois de dire les instructions et de vous dcrire le in a well worked craft
gout de jouer maintenant.
Il faut ramasser les lettres; sept huit, par hasard, que je choisis sans journeys long accent
regarder. having crested
Dans le sac noir et qui se referme laide dune ficelle. arcing back towards home
Jessaie de faire des mots avec les voyelles et les consonnes.
Et je peux changer des lettres the known and the comfort
pour une meilleure loterie tout en passant mon tour, si voulu. of familiar
Il faut jouer le mot sur la carte de point de mire faces and places
en calculant les points que les lettres nous donnent
sur le plan dj indiqu. all among a constellation
Le partage des lettres, en se touchant, forme un genre de domino qui gathered
se conforme from the wonders and the new
et sattache ensemble. Le jeu souvre et communique le tout avec des
mots qui se juxtaposent. my seasons harvest
Les limites que la chance nous donne nous laissent rflchir,
ce nest pas toujours vident que certains mots ne se jouent pas et
parfois,
ou souvent, un sept-lettres parfait, que lon appelle (Scrabble), ne se
place pas,
et il faut donc sacrifier des plus courts mots pour se dbrouiller avec
des lettres
difficiles manquer.
Avec jusqu quatre partenaires va une partie de une deux heures et
de mise.
Bonne chance au jeu.
16 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains
Les rves du promeneur solitaire
(fragments)
par Nathalie Sguin
Rousseau
Les rveries du promeneur solitaire
sont des bribes dexistence dont lintensit
sera fixe par lcriture.
Cest ce travail de recomposition
du pass que Rousseau appelle Rverie.
***
La rverie me dlasse et mamuse,
la rflexion me fatigue et mattriste
penser fut toujours pour moi
une occupation pnible et sans charme
Quelques fois mes rveries finissent
par la mditation
mais plus souvent
mes mditations finissent par la rverie.
***
Vous est-il dj arriv de vous assoupir dans un fauteuil bien confor-
tablement et de vous laisser envahir par la dtente et le sommeil ? Si
votre rponse est positive ; il est probable que la rverie soit agrable
et bienfaisante.
Dans le cas de Rousseau, ces mditations qui lamnent rvas-
ser sont si nombreuses et dnivels quil en perd le sens du rel. Cest
un jeu trs dangereux quand il ny a pas de contrle et quil en perd des
Natalie Sguin Les rves... 17
notions de conscience.
Ce nest pas amusant vraiment, ni gratifiant. La distance avec le
rl que cause les pertes de contrle et de sens drive en une maladie et
la folie la longue.
La rverie chez Rousseau qui rgit ce vagabondage de lesprit
est labsence de liens psychiques et affectifs. (Il ne se dit plus soumis
limpratif moral de lexamen de conscience).
Ne plus se sentir soumis la morale, ni lexamen de conscience
dans son cas, pour vrifier et juger si les penses sont tangibles avec le
rel dans lendroit o il se trouve et si elles sont positives et efficaces
comme outil de progression et datteintes de nos objectifs de vie ; cest
tomber dans un panneau darrt de penses, de dsquilibre et la perte
de lucidit assure.
Lorsque lesprit est dans cet tat dapesanteur, la folie guette.
Ainsi, Jean-Jacques retrouve un contact pur et innocent tel qu
son jeune ge. Cest dpass les limites que de regresser constamment
et dun ridicule abhrant.
terme, la rverie exprime la dgustation dun bonheur bien
(mrit) ?!
Et la puret que les autres ne pourront latteindre, ni le dfaire
quimporte la manire prise.
Ce nest plus une question de carapace quand on est dans un
tel tat, ce sont des traits de caractre et de personnalit difficile et cest
maladif.
Rousseau va donc mler les poques dans un prsent quil veut
ternel.
Quel high !
Il adopte une attitude et un comportement diffrents des
normes individuelles et sociales, surtout.
Jean-Jacques Rousseau nest pas ce quon pourrait appeler un
tre fonctionnel pour lui-mme comme pour la socit et il a du nar-
cissisme revendre. Tout ceci du un manque total dingrence mo-
tionnelle. Ses besoins ne sont jamais assouvis et ses passages sont trs
intenses.
Cest un tre isol et renferm dans sa bulle. Il ne devait pas
avoir dami(s) pour dialoguer. Quel tat mlancolique, il doit vivre
lextrme, par moments.
Cette qute intimiste du bonheur na-t-elle pas de fin ?
 18 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Natalie Sguin Les rves... 19

motions ne sont pas coordonnes, surveillez vous, car les dborde-

Sa vie est trs routinire mais pour lui remplie par lextase. Est- ments affectifs et linsouciance de lhypocrsie dune maladie peut trs
ce seulement la botanique qui laide et le supporte sur ce point ? bien vous surprendre et vous accabler.
Cest son choix. Quelle jouissance pouvait-il avoir Jean-Jacques ? Sinon que
(La fuite dans limaginaire). sadmirer dans la glace.
Et la rverie centre sur ltude et la jouissance du moi. Cest un Cet idal nest pas enviable.
tre extrmement introverti et distant par le fait mme des autres hu- Lamour propre est un sentiment naturel quand il est bien dos
mains prsents dans son environnement. Il est loign des sentiments pour chacun de nous, mais il peut devenir un handicap car il devient un
rels au temps prsent avec ceux qui le ctoient sur le trottoir, dans les principe dgocentrisme, dhypocrsie et de toute forme de mchance-
parcs, dans ses environnements physiques. t. Il se nourrit de lestime de soi des autres, ne loubliez pas et prenez
Il est trop infantile et immature avec ses contemporains. Cest garde. Il est la base de toute ingalit individuelle et sociale et de pr-
une dimension gotiste. Jean-Jacques a trop de penses intimistes, pas jugs. Il mne une attitude et un comportement diffrents.
assez soutenues et partages. Ses rflexions dbordent du cadre nor- Ce jeu dans le miroir est trs dangereux.
matif.
Rousseau est trs motif et hypersensible au moindre petit d-
tail. Il en sort dsquilibr la longue et sendurcit malgr son amour
pour les autres. Rousseau devient insensible,froid et distant. Etc.
Le rveur ne renonce pas dcrire ses fantaisies , mais il
subsiste la cration littraire, une activit psychologique qui le tiendra
debout ; en vie.
Cest troitement li au pays de la folie , du vide intrieur trs
intense et delincomprhension quasi totale.
Le fantasme avatar moderne. La qute du moi intrieur.
Sil place son livre sous le signe de lintrospection :
(Que suis-je moi-mme ?
Voil ce qui me reste chercher).
Loin du polmique seule demeure celle de converser avec son
me.
Le que suis-je ? introduit au changement dobjectif par rap-
port la question :
qui suis-je.
Cest le besoin de soins quil aurait du recevoir cette poque.
Car Rousseau a le cur clat et la tte en mille morceaux. Si un in-
dividu rve de devenir aussi imprgn par les songes durant le jour,
son imagination dbordera du rel et il pourrait devenir trs malade
et trs dangereux pour lui ou la socit, si il nest pas soign et appuy
dans son recouvrement. Se croire tout seul au monde et plus fin que
les autres comportent des risques. Et si le contrle des penses et des
20 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains
The Horizon
by Michael Menezes
Until then, at least from my quarters at the stern of our vessel, the RLS
Horizon Catcher, and from really every which way, from every angle
on deck and in the crows nest and in every cabin porthole, the sea: it
stretched on endlessly, smothering the eye for as far as could be fath-
omed. Wed been at sea two months now. Three if you include the first
few weeks collecting supplies from ports along the West African Coast.
Two months then, since myself or any other living soul aboard
the Big Dipper, for that was what the men had taken to calling it in their
song and in their reverie below the decks; the joke was that any coming
day now, the Horizon Catcher would up and do just that: wed catch the
horizon. Wed dip, bow down, stern up, down a long, endless waterfall,
down over the edge of the world. Believe me, if wed encountered any
sign of it, any whirlpool, any maelstrom or great thundering gale, any
sirens on the rocks, leviathans, krakens or winged, looming monsters
of death, youd have before yourselves a long and very detailed account
of it.
No, all wed seen for two months now on every side of us was
miles and miles, leagues and leagues of calm, unending sea. I hadnt
come to crave the land so much as I- craved anything, anything at all.
Two months or so, two months and eleven days it was, we en-
countered the mist. Dense. Impenetrable. Like a thick white curtain in
a high society parlour. Spotless. We passed two nights and three days
unable to see any further than a single ships length ahead in any direc-
tion. On the sixth hour of the third night, it was I and the first mate,
William Wright, up on the bow of the Dipper taking watch as had be-
come our custom. You see, no man could stay on deck any longer than
a few, fleeting hours now before hed slowly descend into madness,
snow blind from the fog, and it was especially so during the nights.
William was a strange lad indeed; hed taken up the seafaring
profession in the hope of financing a life of scholarship in natural
philosophy- a far cry from the drunken, whoring rabble under his com-
Michael Menezes The Horizon 21
mand. Wed fallen into taking the darkest hours of the night under our
watch, during which time he would regale me with stories of Keplers
Laws of Planetary Motion or Mesmers Animal Magnetism, for which
the maddening, hovering mists were more an eerie backdrop than any
agent of our undoing.
Yes, it was during that sixth hour, as we spoke of St Augustines
Journey of the Soul that the mists, they thinned at last, and not a half
a league ahead of us- it was a mountain, it was a great craggy yawning
monolith that rose up from the ocean surface like the rocky maw of
God. We stood in silence for many minutes, each wordlessly daring the
other to speak, to acknowledge it, to fall to their knees and cry into the
air in praise.
It was I who finally spoke. I asked him if he indeed saw what
I saw, and what he made of it, and would he run down into the cabins
and alert the men and set a course, and unfurl the damn sails himself
if he had to and- Sir, he said. Perhaps, sir, if I would calm myself for
a moment, the rock, the monolith, he said, its plateau was at least two
hundred or more feet from the ocean surface below, and we had not
nearly enough rope nor provisions to make such a climb. Perhaps, he
said, the rock might prove to be just that: a singular, though awesome
protrusion on all four sides without a shore for us to make a landing.
Perhaps the men, if they were to wake, would not hear reason as I
did- they would mutiny, tear down at the rigging in a frenzy, in a mass
hysteria to climb to reach Perhaps the plateau of the monolith
might seem to them the surface of the sea, and ourselves, our vessel,
two hundred feet below, and drowning.
I steadied myself. He made a good point, William Wright. Per-
haps, natural philosophy aside, His Majestys Service could make a cap-
tain of him yet. I sent him down into the cabins to retrieve four of our
most seasoned sailors of whose state of mind and sanity he could be
sure. The six of us on deck, we plotted a course toward the monolith
and around it.
And as we drew closer to rock, again it was William who saw it
first. Around the base of the monolith what we thought had been a
reef it was rope. It was miles and miles and miles of tangled, knot-
ted rope, floating smiling and serenely in the gently, swaying ocean
currents. And drawing into view around the corner, around the hidden
eastern edge of the rock, we saw the graveyard. Scores, hundreds of
22 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Mathieu Bouchard Toxicomanie 23

vessels moored against the face of its cliff, each in pristine condition,
unscathed, having floated in the breathless waters for eternities. Old
crafts, with dragon figureheads, and unmanned oars protruding from
their hulls and sides, and some, strange sail-less and unnatural behe-
moths, clad in iron and in stone yet floating still, unmoving, empty.
Again I was the first to speak. William, I said, plot a course
south. Away, get us away, man! Turn the wheel! I ran, II stumbled
down, across the Dippers godless deck and over to the stern. The
wheel! South! Away!
That night we swore that to no man but the King should we
ever breathe a word about that lone, accursed rock in the heart of the
Pacific. Many brave vessels, many captains, many crews have set out
since to find the rock, to find the monolith of which we spoke unto
His Majestys pale regal lips, and to his courtiers condescending glow-
ers.
To my knowledge, two of these vessels have returned, report-
ing not to have encountered any such expanse of mist, or looming
monolith. The other seven Perhaps at the horizon, at the edge of
the world, it is not the waters of the sea that fall, that dip down into the
void. Perhaps it is the sanity of men that slows that moors itself by
the cliffs and floats in still, in tranquil waters by the monolith for all of
time
24 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains
Goodbye Addictions
By Tony L.
Games, you were always good at killing time: days, weeks, and months
would pass by and I wouldnt notice.
Poker, you would give me an artificial high when winning tem-
porarily before inevitably losing everything.
Binge eating, you would give me emotional relief: giving me a
sugar rush that would make me forget my problems for a little while
before I came back with a poisoned body and mind.
Sleep, you could make me forget and take away hours of my
painful days. After a month of sleeping, I was asking myself what I had
done with my life.
Addictions: I never learned how to live without you but
now I have no choice. If I enable you it will eventually lead to an-
other psychosis and I cant let that happen to myself or my loved
ones. I have always escaped the present and present-oriented ac-
tivities. Its now time to choose health, to choose the present, and
to build a real future. I dont know how I am going to do it, but
Im choosing reality over manic excitement, and it has to work.
Im not giving it a choice.
Karl Fontaine Being Sober 25
On Being Sober
by Karl Fontaine
Becoming sober like finally putting my two feet in a long lost soul
house with a new guest, feeling of a new horizon and for once
grasping reality, embracing it instead of the old runaway train.
Now going somewhere, finally my wheels on solid tracks, my
soul newly washed and rinsed; my heart devoted and crisp for the
colors of my production.
Drawing with a new childs wisdom, like business colors ap-
pearing real and simple, although deep in the roots of my still youthful
eyes.
Amusing myself in new ways to think and not stabbing my re-
ality as if everything was due to me but more like an attentive gardener
to the plants and trees to be loved so they can flourish and grow their
radius of vibrant life.
26 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Matthew Peters The Hour... 27

Les nuages noirs sont partis et ont fait place au soleil; que je regarde
en biais afin de lapprcier sans my aveugler. Douce brise du matin.
Tranquillement, sinstalle en moi une confiance sereine en un avenir
dont je ne sais rien. Je ne sens plus le besoin de voler vers le soleil, de
Sabotage my bruler les ailes. Dsormais, sentir la douce caresse du soleil sur ma
par Mathieu Bouchard joue me satisfait.
Libr de la tyrannie du quotidien.
Politique de la terre brle. Maintenant, changer le monde, un jour la fois.
Jai construit une maison, qui tait belle au got des autres,
dans le but de my loger et dy vivre une vie respectable, une vie con-
forme; une vie soumise, une vie range. Faire plaisir aux autres pour
se sentir accept, valoris, approuv, normal. Renoncer ses passions,
rprimer ses instincts, mourir de lintrieur, steindre petit feu. 9 6
The Hour as it Fades
au bureau, payer lhypothque et les comptes, aller au gym rgulire- by Matthew Peters
ment. Obligations de toutes sortes pour satisfaire aux attentes; pour
tre quelquun de bien, comme ils disent. The faded book covers stand
La tyrannie du quotidien. by the old magazines
Mlancolie du soir, parce demain matin une nouvelle journe near where the dogs sleep,
commence, sans doute aussi morne, grise et froide que les prcdentes.
Vertige du dimanche soir, parce que demain matin une nouvelle semaine the decks stretch around three sides
commence, faite de cinq jours sans doute aussi mornes, gris et froids and with nine
que les prcdents. Un scotch, puis un deuxime. Ma guitare devant is where we eat, sit, and talk;
moi, qui ramasse la poussire, parce que je nai plus lenvie dy jouer.
Puis un jour, je dploie mes ailes, pour voler vers le ciel. Je the talk is short, in bursts,
monte, toujours plus haut, jusquau soleil, pour my brler les ailes. largely what is needed,
La tempte souffle, se rapproche dangereusement. Je pilote au radar some thats appreciated,
travers les nuages noirs, magntiques, lourds et effrayants. Insomnie,
panique, dsespoir. Les inquitudes tourbillonnent dans ma tte, toujo- but with the ocean just below
urs plus vite, toujours plus fort. Je vole vers le ciel. Je monte, toujours we listen to it lapping
plus haut, jusquau soleil, pour my brler les ailes. Je traverse les nuages and watch the suns trajectory,
noirs, japproche enfin le soleil. Puis arrive le moment tant souhait:
je touche le soleil et je my brle les ailes. Chute vertigineuse; boucle over and between the trees,
pique; dmolition annonce. which tells us all we need to know
Limpact au sol est brutal. of the hour as it fades.
Dfinitif.
Je me relve, dmoli et soulag. Enfin, jai tout sabot. Je suis
maintenant libre. Enfin libre. Radicalement libre. Je me suis vad de la
prison dans laquelle je mtais enferme. Libre. Libre de me rinventer.
28 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Tony L. Strangers Eye 29

public, the people surrounding you cannot see the other side of you
when youre with your friends. It is thus a secret, a mystery. And when
youre with your friends, you cant see the way they are with strangers.
This is why, when I saw my friends frustrated driving, I had that strange
The strangers eye feeling, finally explained 15 years later.
by Tony L.
Life is absurd, but amazing at the same time. Life
is ultimately meaningless. but is also the most pre-
cious thing in the universe. Stop living in the con-
fusing cobwebs of the gray area and realize that
its both white and black at the same time, while
taking advantage of the fact that humans are de-
signed to be happy, and just let it happen.

Once, I was sitting on the balcony of my ex-girlfriends place in the

McGill ghetto, waiting for my friend to come over. He was and is a very
close friend of mine, the type of friend you dont even need to look in
the eye when you talk to him.
Anyway, while I was on the balcony I spotted him driving
around, looking for parking. I couldnt say hi to him because he was
far away in his car. So I just continued watching him as he went up the
street, frustrated to not find parking, then turned left to the next street
and continued searching.
At that moment I had a strange feeling that to this day I cannot
describe. It was in the way that I was seeing him. It almost felt as if I
was intruding. I saw a side of him that I have a never seen before, be-
cause he never showed that frustrated face with me. Also, it was weird
because this was the first time I ever saw him without him knowing I
was looking at him.
I effectively changed my identity towards him from a friend to
a stranger. It was a weird feeling like I was invading his privacy by see-
ing a side of him that he would normally never show to me. Yet he was
in public and thousands of people can see him this way for free and as
long as they want to.
It also shows that we have two types of behavior towards oth-
ers. One is an adopted behavior and expression when in the presence
of people you know, and the other is an automatic, lifeless expression
when you are in public and surrounded by strangers. When youre in
30 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Karl Fontaine Bric--brac 31

Alimentation Bric--brac
par Bertrand Poupart par Karl Fontaine
Super march, Bric--brac,
lensemble visuel de la nourriture barraque
qui fout le trac,
Lemballage me renverse
et ce qui nest pas emball. glantine et vers de soie
Premire approche en vitrine ou sur les alles. qui me pique et me lisse,
Dvelopper le gout de femme enceinte, me peigne les cheveux
bien photographier la marchandise pour un meilleur rsultat dans sa et jeton
cuisine de ce parchsy qui se croise
bien lire les dates dexpiration. au mouchoir dune hirondelle,

En choix qui sunissent : fruits et lgumes, boulangerie, fromagerie, et li de ces lilas,

produits laitiers, viandes, volailles, produits des commis la viande, vins tournoie et fragonne,
et spiritueux, huiles, sucre, sel, mlanges desserts repas dshydrats, le gouli goula
caf, chocolats, crales, conserves en bote de tous genres, en vrac. dune limonade
Papier de toutes formes et
Liqueurs et boissons par son zest ail
Sauces de toutes envergures picotte les narines du monstre
Produits naturels emballs et produits bio, produits asiatiques que jai vu l-bas,
De mers et produits surgels de toutes consistances qui sendort comme un enfant
Ptes et pts de maison pour voir gazouiller les oiseaux
Accessoires de cuisines au soleil matin;
picotte les doigts
Donc frquence des visites lpicerie gnrale du quartier, de la truite mouchete.
une deux fois par semaine selon les recettes suivre et des circu- Attrappe, gule et tournoie
laires si inspirants dans londe du sable,
Le tout est agrable mijoter dans une belle cuisine quipe jonc qui slance et touche lazur,
Vos amis adoreront et vous remercieront de votre dbrouillardise en rayonne ta mini-jupe
service culinaire. qui danse lt
Avec 3 repas par jour, les personnes table avec vous o le soleil te souffle
trouveront ce qui est bon et solvable votre fort intrieur. la perruque.
32 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Mathieu Bouchard Farewell, Karl 33

Perrochet et bon vinier

ml sur les eaux
o le marin prpare ta fte
et si encore se rejoint lalle
dune danse sur le sillon dun rosier, Farewell, Karl
que son ptale par Mathieu Bouchard
boucle le costume du clown
qui verse une larme de tendresse Karl a t une toile filante dans le ciel du Club des crivains et dans
pour un vers sur une feuille celui de ma vie.
qui devient papillon.
Karl tait un chacal un ornithorynque et un hibou, ce qui nest pas
Rebours de ta manche donn tous. Karl tait un lion, un alligator et un albatros. Karl tait
o le bouton droule un urubu tte rouge qui vole en cercle au-dessus du centre-ville.
larc circonflexe Il tait aussi un pervier.
dun basse de latex
pour un appartement des citadins Karl tait Diogne, le philosophe itinrant.
couchant dans le jardin
et couvrant les murailles de la ville La peinture tait pour Karl un mode de vie. Ou tait-ce la posie ?
Des vieilles bouteilles de vin. En fin de compte, nul ne saura jamais si Karl tait peintre ou pote.
De toute faon, je ne crois pas quil faisait la distinction. Les mots
Fric, froc taient pour Karl des couleurs. Et les couleurs des mots.
et pas un sous Les mots taient pour Karl un mdium visuel lgal du charbon,
par un air de jardin. du pastel ou de lhuile.
Trouvant le billet du train
oh fortune, Dans son carnet bleu, Karl a crit le point final.
qui mne au cirque mme
des confins. Karl Fontaine, une toile filante en route vers lternit.

Bidule et pendule
Vric, Vroc!
le Pantoche,
une gazelle bondit
sur le nuage zebr du temps,
pouls cardiaque dune grenouille
tandis que la fourmi cri:
Tout le monde
Au bain!.
 Table of Contents

Fernanda Prez Gay Jurez,

Who Are We?/Qui sommes nous ? IV
Dan Scott, Zero 0
Tony L., Stigma 3
Mathieu Bouchard, Disturbed or Disturbing? 5
Matthew Peters, Migraine; or Strife 7
Karl Fontaine, Sans titre 8
Betrand Poupart, Sortir ce soir 9
Michael Menezes, The Flowers Sellers 10
Nathalie Sguin, Chansons sous le theme... 13
Betrand Poupart, La patience aux jeux 14
Matthew Peters, My seasons harvest 15
Nathalie Sguin, Les rves du promeneur solitaire 16
Michael Menezes, The Horizon 20
Mathieu Bouchard, Toxicomanie 23
Tony L., Goodbye Addictions 24
Karl Fontaine, On Being Sober 25
Mathieu Bouchard, Sabotage 26
Matthew Peters, The Hour as it Fades 27
Tony L., The Strangers Eye 28
Betrand Poupart, Alimentation 30
Karl Fontaine, Bric--brac 31
Mathieu Bouchard, Farewell, Karl 33
 This book was finished on September 20, 2016
in Montral, Qubec. Kodamas will account for it.