#of all the characters to make an April fools video about he chose my husband

[mossiestpiglet]

I just unsuspectingly watched men of the west’s haldir video while eating dinner and almost died choking on my rice

[so-litudinal]

apr. 8-17, 2017

I could use a change or two

> names:

Mona Sergei / Sergueï Joseph / Yossef / Yusuf Puer (Mater) Jacob

> Emily Dickinson, poem 867:

I felt a Cleaving in my Mind – As if my Brain had split – I tried to match it – Seam by Seam But could not make them fit – The thought behind, I strove to join Unto the thought before – But Sequence ravelled out of Sound Like Balls – upon a Floor –

> It’s been days and days that I’ve been meaning to write, that I actually have wanted to share or at least word out certain thoughts and impressions. Like every other time I postponed my writing and then eventually came to it, my first impulse is to scribble awkward explanations, almost excuses — for whom and what for, no need to ask. It is again (though I’m not sure I can accurately single out a moment in the recent past where this was not the case) this state of rampant fatigue. I was just reading an introduction to Emily Dickinson’s poems earlier and while remarking on her occasionally (and presumably) unstable mental health, the author referred to catatonia. I looked into it a little more and what I read, for the most part, really hit home. I should ban Wikipedia from my information resources but... “[la catatonie] est une forme de schizophrénie caractérisée par des périodes de passivité et de négativisme alternant avec des excitations soudaines.” O-K-É (One thing led to another, I ended up reading about aboulia/apragmatisme and avolition/aboulie. On the French wiki page of the latter, it is said that “aboulie” can be mistaken with the syndrome of psychic auto-activation loss (syndrome de perte d’auto-activation psychique, PAAP), which is often the result of carbon monoxide poisoning. Says a lot about my low-key obsession with Todd Haynes’ ‘Safe’ lol. Also, Carol White’s all-white outfit ft. Emily Dickinson’s wearing only white......)

> The Moon is almost full, the thought of it makes me anxious.

> The ‘On this day’ Facebook app is so stressful, yet I can’t help checking it out on a daily basis lol... Five years from today (april 9th) I was sharing Gary Jules’ ‘Mad World’ videoclip* along with some lines from the songs (probably the ones that most spoke to me at the time). Before that it had already been a very important/present song in my life; during certain periods I would listen almost exclusively to it in an endless row. Somehow towards the end of my senior year, it became even more haunting... Wowowow remembering is such an odd process — unexpected memories keep barging in as I’m writing this (it feels like a long while since I’ve last had such hectic brain activity ha).

Thinking of that last semester in secondary school obviously brings me back to the fire we had in our apartment. The weeks and months (I’d even say years but I’m not sure it’s all that connected) that followed were chaotic and I find the images and impressions I keep the most vivid memories of quite surprising. For instance, we stayed at our neighbour Mireille’s for a couple of weeks right after the incident (it was also during those weeks that my mother told my stepfather she wanted divorce). On Friday evenings we watched a singing competition on TV (The Voice France, who am I trying to fool) and there was this girl, Al.hy, I really liked. I don’t know for how long after this performance of hers sent me trippin’ every time I would listen to/watch it (also, judging from this video, my sister still looked a lot like Jenifer in it and it was a pretty good time in our relationship — it’s gotten colder, almost bitter). (Note to self: how come you still haven’t gotten more into Kate Bush?) With hindsight, I now can tell that I was able to go back to school despite the events and actually do very well for my finals (though I have very little memory of that — it all feels like a handful of weeks, not three whole months) because I was dissociating so hard. Yeah, probably the longest dissociative episode of my life... When summer vacations started, I slowly gained back a sense of realness and tangibility. It turned out so violent after all this time being numb that I had a major depressive episode for two months at least (July and August thus). I remember living with my mother in the apartment my stepfather had found for himself while he was living in our former one during the reconstruction work (we only moved back around October); that apartment had an amazing view from the rear windows. I remember the heatwaves that added to the dramatic and unbearable character of everyday life. I remember writing overly sentimentalist notes in a notebook. I remember not being able to go out or actually going out and having to go back “home”. I remember hating my body and becoming obsessive with my daily workouts. I remember watching Catherine Frot’s filmography with my mother. I remember going through an awkward and tough patch with my best friend and not seeing each other for a long time (sending each other very weird emails I’m glad I wasn’t able to find back later). I remember discovering and rewatching ‘Martyrs’ several times over the span of a few days — I believed it changed me and I couldn’t distance myself from it. I remember loving Jodhi May lol. I remember not having any control on my hair washing OCD: I would take several showers a day and wash my hair every day (it was hard not to do so more than once), even at past midnight — when I think of this period one of the first words that comes to my mind is “dirty” (then I guess it’s a sensation very closely associated to my most disrupted periods). I remember the kitchen and its table, actually I remember the whole apartment quite clearly. I remember misophonia being particularly severe (and I’m kinda nervous to note that I feel it has lately become as bad as it was at the time). What a mess...

‘Mad World’ videoclip reminds me of two things. First, Hey Arnold’s  ‘Pigeon Man’ episode...  An epiphany. I like to imagine Jim Jarmusch drawing his inspiration from this episode to write and direct ‘Ghost Dog’. Second is a book I had to read for my French class in my third year of secondary school: Philippe Delerm’s ‘L’Envol’. It was probably not even that good but it was another key self-revealing item from my adolescence. While discussing it in class, I remember the teacher — she was sitting right in front of me — noting in a very sad but compassionate tone: “Some people are just not made for life”. I understand how it can be misinterpreted or ill-received but at the time it really touched me and came as a relief, regarding my father (though I’ve had/still have a hard time admitting it), regarding myself and my conception of life and death. Actually this sense of relief is still accurate up to this day. It doesn’t matter (shouldn’t matter) but this was the same teacher I was talking about (the one who had passed me by some time ago) in a previous post. I shouldn’t summon too many memories from that time, considering it’s one of which I’m most ashamed of. Just gonna leave this here...

The “On this day” app also managed to remind me, a few days ago, that the last time I visited Tunisia was in April 2009. Eight years that feel rather as an eternity. It’s one of the visits “back home” (that’s a lie) I keep the fondest memory of. Especially one particular day when my aunt and uncle introduced me and my mother to a married couple of friends, very sweet and gentle people who had a beautiful house outside the city. They invited us for lunch and while we were sitting at the table in the kitchen their son came in and gave two red roses he had picked in the garden to my aunt and mother. I felt very left out lol. Then we drove with them even further into the countryside (I can’t remember where in Tunisia it was or even if it was near Sousse or not). We arrived at the husband’s mother’s “farm”, where she lived and also had a vast plantation of olive trees. Her name was Zrira (/s5ira/) which means small, little one (or petite in French). And indeed she was so small, small and warm. I had never felt so heartily welcomed before. The wife’s name was Rouza (rose) but I’ve forgotten the husband’s. We visited the plantation and a bit of the farm where I got to see a beautiful cow. Rouza and Zrira were drawing water from a well (was it on a cliff?) as I was taking a couple pictures of them. I’ve been trying to find those pictures for a couple of years now. I can’t for the life of me recall whether I took them with a disposable camera or my phone (if it’s the latter, chances are I will never get them back). The sky was grey, I think it even rained (April is generally a rainy season in North Tunisia) but still it’s one of my dearest memory.

Maybe I should learn Arabic after all... I think a lot about Tunisia lately. Maybe it’s associated with my father’s death date, which was on March 31st, 2002. Was it the 31st or the 21st? One of them is his death date, the other his birthday but I’ve always mixed them up. Anyway, 15 years ago — I’m not sure I feel anything about it. I miss the big jasmine tree in our front yard. My room’s smelled of jasmine for the past four days. Though it’s one of my favourite smells, at first it found me more disrupted than happy, more upset than nostalgic. But I’m cool now.

> My room smells of jasmine because on Thursday my mother and I went to a plant nursery/garden-centre (whatever the name is) 40 mn walk from our house (15 mn by the bus). It was so beautiful over there it got me emotional (cried a little a few times). We gathered some ideas for the garden. I even got to meet a gorgeous doggo (and petted him — lol that reminds me that the owner at some point told me it was okay to pet the dog but I’d already done so long before hehe). While the man was telling my mother about berries bushes, I felt a ray of sunshine piercing through the roof of the greenhouse and just as I turned around and looked up, a heron flew over slowly. My mother got me a potted jasmine plant and I chose a pale rose buttercup for my best friend, with whom I was supposed to meet the day after. We walked all the way back home, me hugging the plants in my arms and sucking on a lollipop offered for free at the checkout counter. I love Spring, way more so even since I’ve moved here. Sometimes I’m afraid I’m only meant to love Spring and everything is doomed to be unbearable.

> When have I come to hate the Moon, especially at its fullest? Maybe I do not. I most likely do not. As the Moon keeps refilling inevitably I am reminded of how little I have in my hands — more dreadful: how what little I have in my hands is left untouched and uncared for. I shy away from the Moon because it is at once the judge, the witness and the proof of an abject motionless life and le bourreau is never as terrible as when hidden in the dark in total silence.

> Today I got to see the first cows of the year outside!!! Is it finally the time they’re taking them out? I wish I could dream of cows — that would be a very soft dream. I’ve often daydreamed that in the Summer I could lie down in the grass and take a nap, curling up against the warm side of a cow. I’ve had several dreams with horses but they were more like nightmares... or anxiety-filled dreams I guess. Somewhat for me horses fit that atmosphere of tension and on-edge nerves. Sometimes I wouldn’t even get the full picture of a horse, only its franticly galloping legs — and the sound that comes with it. In reality I am lightly afraid of them; an uneasy sort of feeling when being around some, though on the other hand I am mostly thrilled. I find them most impressive at night. And for some reason they always appear to me out of the blue, completely unexpected. Unlike many of my others fears, the one I have for horses I’m willing to overcome.

> O-K-A-Y crazy day today + one of the most beautiful and intense moments of my life (as well as one of the most needed).

I passed my theory driving license exam. Now that the easiest is behind, I can go on with the real hassle lol.

Had yet another fight with mother that ended in a monologue/therapy session but at least it helped release some of the tension.

On the evening walk with the dog, while the sun was slowly setting, the moment happened. I went back to the field where I saw the cows the other day. I stood still behind the fence, watched them graze. I’d been there for a couple minutes, occasionally waving at the ones that were glancing at us when all of sudden a first one started striding towards us and immediately after the rest of them followed. There they were, fourteen (!!!) beautiful cows standing in line in front of me, all curious though a little cautious (farouche would suit perfectly here). I stayed there a good 20 minutes, reaching my hand out so that they could smell (and lick haha) my fingers. After a few minutes I could even carefully pat a couple of them on the head and feed them some grass. Leaving was so hard, and I didn’t have a camera with (not that it mattered) but as I was walking away backwards they formed this breath-taking picture against the flaming setting sun. I think of cows all year round. I cried and tried hard to be there.

During that same walk we also saw three pheasants running through fields and a couple of beautiful birds.

I was talking about how I’d been feeling, or rather not feeling lately (catatonia and so on) and I didn’t realise I was digging my nail into my palm so hard that it’d been bleeding all the while. It isn’t even that I’m exhausted. I only feel like sleeping par dépit. What else is there to do?

> I’m feeling kinda sad for the ice-cream man who’s just driven by my window in his van, chiming his bells tune and slowing down every other metre even though it’s a very cloudy and rainy day, with no one outside.

> Some events from a week ago, on a Sunday, when it was still as warm as a Summer day.

On one of the flowers of the potted buttercup I’d bought for my best friend, I found a tiny snail. I let it slither along my hand and fed it some lettuce before taking it outside in the garden with me. I named it Edgar II, after Edgar I, the snail I had encountered on a trip to the seaside about 4 years ago.

I said it before: it’s this time of the year when all the sheep are having babies, most of them have gotten bigger already. That day, in one of the pastures closest to our house, where two sheep and a lamb have been living, the lamb was particularly curious and playful that evening. It wanted to get closer to the dog and also reached my hand with his tiny pink snout (so soft!) every time I stretched it out. When my mother did the same, it started sucking her finger. A bit further on, on a plot of land where there were about thrice as many sheep and ten times as many lambs, the latter were even more lively. As we were feeding one of the adults some grass, a whole flock of about ten lambs ran through the plot. What a view.

> Over two weeks ago, I went to the open campus day of the University in town. It was an exhausting and exhilarating day for the most part. But I zoned out completely before it was even finished, and now my clearest memory is the imposing magnolia in bloom in the centre of a small inner courtyard of the Languages Department. I sat there drinking chocolate milk. On that day I was also reminded of how exciting languages are! Also I met a cute mom lol. I felt even more lost once the visit was over but I was kind of proud. (Dissociative crisis ensued.) Ah yeah, I won a contest (we were supposed to recognize as many languages as possible upon hearing students reciting passages of ‘The Little Prince’ in 20 languages — I got all of them right) and my prize was a sweater with the department’s initials printed on the back lol.

Almost forgot that on the evening I attended a multiple screening of some Franco Piavoli’s works. He was there and his presentations and conclusions seemed never-ending and most people were rude and disrespectful. But I love his films. I don’t know, it’s been too long, I forgot. I’m scared.

> Today: Easter breakfast prepared with love by mother. On the evening walk, petted my favourite lamb as if it were a dog — its eyes were closing with pleasure as I was scratching its head (reminded me a bit of the sensation of Bellustre the poodle’s soft top of the head). And most importantly, went back to the cows. They ran to me again, shoot a bit this time, fed them some carrots, they’re the best.

> So piano has made sort of a low-key comeback lately, in my heart and mind more than in the facts but still... Not gonna get into detail here and now for I might just break the spell (so scared it’s already happened). Only wanted to tell this. We moved the piano in a more appropriate place last week. On the day that followed mother went visited my grandma who apparently happened to ask her if “there was anything going on with my music and my piano because she’d thinking about it the past few days”... She knows I quit playing some years ago. It’s as if she’d sensed it. It made me feel good and closer to her again since things had gotten a bit tense on my side ever since the period she was staying at the hospital. We’re connected despite everything.

> I genuinely and whole-heartedly value kindness. Nothing makes me feel more at ease in society than people who perpetrate acts of absolute selfless kindness. A few occurrences that continue to make me smile weeks after:

I had sent a email to a former Italian teacher of mine before Spring break, to brief him about my current situation and potential plans and ask him for tips and advice on how to maintain my Italian skills and perhaps increase my knowledge by reading some authors. His first reply came on the following day and everything from the way he formulated the quick couple of sentences he wrote to the very content of his message (he was to elaborate more on the weekend for he was in a hurry that morning) sounded so well-meaning. After that I didn’t get another answer for over two weeks lol... But one came today that I was hardly even expecting any more. A very helpful one with that.

I remember going to the cinema, also before Spring break, with mother to see a doc called ‘You Have No Idea How Much I Love You’ (of course we had to see that one). Afterwards, as we were waiting on a platform for our train back home, we were eating spring-rolls when the station master came out of his office just to give us a bunch of paper napkins. HOW SWEET?!! When our train arrived I quickly knocked on his window to wave thank you and goodbye.

Old lady helping another old lady and his man get safely to their seats in the bus.

> On the other hand I react very badly (though it’s mostly internalized) to being ignored. It’s happened one too many times lately, for instance my former piano teacher never replied to my mail asking him for advice on how and where to pick it up again. Good thing I eventually got some feedback from the Italian teacher.

> I read this article on the too-soon-to-be-called-a-loss of the first language and I actually shed tears lolilol. I know there are some truths I’m gonna have to face now.

> The night before last night (I think) I had a dirty dream about Martha Argerich. [Except I’d left this last part aside and have only inserted it back now so I’m not sure which night I was referring to.]

OK! I’ve been writing this over the course of 9 days I think. WAY TOO LONG, if you want my opinion but well.