Hello, dear reader! Happy Spring. This week I’m trying something new. It’s a rainy day here in Montreal and I’m feeling… poetic. So here’s a poem I wrote with the first line of every essay I published since launching my newsletter. Enjoy!
I like my obsessions.
I love chairs.
A couple of months ago,
at the beginning of this year’s freezing
and unnecessarily long Montreal winter,
I found a little brown moth in my apartment.
I recently flicked through an old notebook I had
as a teenager.
“My flow is so heavy this week,”
I said to my husband
as I scrubbed my beige pants
in the hotel sink.
Every couple of years,
I feel like slapping on some chaps,
hopping on a “hog,”
and being bad to the bone.
I’m suffering from a bad case of FOMO.
Speaking of stories
nobody asked me to write,
today’s essay
is about another uneventful summer.
I’ve been working on an essay
about a magician
that came to my house last week.
Reminisce this.
Sometimes I fantasize
about having a basement
so I can say “Le party est en bas. Aouaye dans cave!”
(The party’s in the basement.
Downstairs you go!)
to a bunch of kids
while us parents eat chips
around a gigantic kitchen island.
Have you ever committed to something
and wondered,
“What the f**k was I thinking?”
When people ask me about my astrological sign,
I always reply Virgo.
Six months ago, I launched
Obsessed: A Newsletter.
I recently
sorted through several boxes of mine
in my parents’ basement.
I called one of my friends the other day
to inquire about
her favourite Christmas movies.
All I’m asking
is that you reconsider our Christmas plans.
"Please don't do it,"
my husband said
as he rolled his eyes.
There are forty-four unread emails in my inbox.
I’m one of those women
who walks around
with a bra that doesn’t fit.
I’ve been working
on a novel manuscript
since last Fall
and I’ve just reached 40,000 words.
Before I realized I was a writer,
I wanted to be an actress.
J'aime ton poème Michelle ! Quel beau collage ! Tu as réussi à assembler des phrases qui, à prime abord, semblent être aussi simples ou faciles que ce qui jaillit du "stream of thought". Ce n'est pas si simple que ça ! Tu es vraiment artiste des pensées et des mots !
Au départ, l'aspect du collage de "A Poem For a Rainy Day" m'a fait penser à l'écriture automatique des surréalistes. Toutefois, la première définition que je trouve sur l'écriture automatique dit que celle-ci "est un mode d'écriture dans lequel n'interviennent ni la conscience ni la volonté". Il ne s'agit vraiment pas de ça ici ! Chaque vers de ton poème est issu de tout ton travail d'introspection et de ta conscience, entre autres, et, il n'est pas dépourvu de volonté !!! Tu peux certainement en dire quelque chose !
Le hasard fait bien les choses, ou est-ce vraiment le hasard ?!
Merci Michelle. You're brightening up my sombre day!!!