F.i.in.e Moods

- someone I met on the streets... five years after the both of us had been on the streets, we crossed paths again on the city bus one day... he explained that in those years, he had run away from his family while in a psychotic episode (which led him on a drugs bender), and he disappeared for 2 years... his father never gave up looking for him... he looked very well and he said his life was back in order... I have always been very fond of Louis... here's about when we met and our experience in those days... 

It was a quiet evening.  No one was

Making a spectacle of themselves

From being too hard up wasted,

And no break-up dramas either on

The stairs by the Parc de l'artillerie,

The usual spot where the kids were.

She was sitting there, on her own,

Quietly thinking and observing,

When suddenly, from the other

Direction of where she was looking,

This guy sat right by her, his leg and

Side touching hers.  He leaned in,

And hand extended, said the following:

"Hi.  My name is Louis.  Is there any

Part of your past history that you

Would like to relate to me?", with the

Most earnest expression on his face.

Startled, looking in the deepest blue eyes,

She smiled, shook his hand, and told

Him her name while replying that she

Really couldn't see what he could find

Interesting about the parts of her history.

His eyes brightened, his face gleamed,

And he gave her the most beautiful smile.

All the while, she was silently reflecting

To herself about the possible reasons

Why this obviously French-speaking guy

Engaged in conversation in English first.

It didn't make much sense, but their

Conversation was pleasantly amusing.

They'd never seen one another before then,

And for her part, Louis' entrance was memorable,

No doubt about it, but it's him that was the most.

What an unforgettable character!  What a mind!

They must have carried on talking for at least 4hrs.

From that night, they'd cross paths again and again.

It's with time, and from one time to the next,

That she'd find him in many different states.

This made her realize that he was a guy with a

Lot of troubles, perhaps too big for him to handle, 

All of which were affecting his ability to live

As expected in an unforgiving societal structure.

Sometimes, she'd find him searching through the

Blades of grass at the top of the Portes St-Jean,

On all fours, thoroughly moving aside each blade

To have a closer look at the ground.  He'd do it

For hours.  The first time she saw him do that,

She naturally asked him what he was looking for.

Again, those deep blue eyes looking into hers,

He'd say:  "Sometimes, people drop their drugs

Here.  And sometimes, I'm really lucky to find

Them.  And now I really need to find some!"

He looked so desperate, it broke her heart.

There was nothing she could do to distract him.

Sometimes, she'd find him in a dire state

Of uncleanliness, obviously from having

Been out on the streets for a very long time.

In the middle of winter, his fingernails and

Hands black, in evident need of a wash.

Still, he was always his smiling and gentle self.

Other times, she'd find him completely off

His face, in his own little world, not making

Much sense.  The contrast of the person she

Met that night, and the progression of his

Decline in the months, alarmed her to no end.

She'd ask if she could help, and he'd ask why?

This went on a couple years.  Every time they'd

Cross paths, she'd stop to have a chat with him,

Whatever state he happened to be at the time.

Her heart went out to him with much affection,

'Cause he was clearly a remarkably smart guy,

Aside being a charming and endearing soul.

To this day, she thinks about him,

Hoping he's well and happy now.

- sorry, this is boring as all hell, I know... I'm difficultly trying to deal... 

I suppose I should be feeling happy

That I finally got my first appointment

To begin the diagnostic process, which

Has been on hold since last November.

Because we have a shortage of doctors,

I was on waiting lists to see specialists.

But here we go, it'll be my turn on 7 July.

But all I'm feeling is a load of anxiety

'Cause my experiences are rarely fine,

And even though I'm prepared for it,

It nonetheless always rams into me

When doctors dismiss my concerns

'Cause they can't find anything wrong;

All the while, I'm in excrutiating pain.

It's noticeably worse in recent years

And I'm truly having a hard time of it,

'Cause although pain isn't unusual for me,

Not being able to move, stand up or walk

Is a new turn that is deeply concerning

For someone who has "nothing" wrong.

The frequency of incapacitation isn't nothing.

If the suspected diagnosis should reveal

Itself to be the issue, it'd make so much sense,

It'd explain so many weird things of my body.

Since these pains have followed me around

From childhood up to now, it also fits that

The foundational make up of how we hold

Together was defective from the beginning.

Our bodies are made of connective tissues

In every part, even in our blood, in our brain.

The condition is a degenerative one, and its

Deterioration usually begins to wreak havoc

For people in my age group, which is exactly

What these last 3 years have been feeling like.

My intuition is, this won't be getting better. 

But maybe, this specialist will be able to help

To slow down the decline which has been

Picking up momentum and disabling me.

So, I should be feeling happy, but I'm wracked

With a whole bunch of anxieties about what

To expect with this new health professional.

Will she be a total uncompassionate bitch?

Will she listen and not dismiss me?

Will I be told the same platitudes?

Will I be wasting energy and time again?

Or will I finally be able to obtain answers,

And an actual treatment plan to better live?

A friend suggested that I turn my anxieties

Into hopes for the best until proven otherwise.   

He's right.  I do try to be more positive about

These things, it's just with years being told

All standard tests return no abnormalities,

It becomes nervewracking having to convince 

The professionals that there's something wrong.

My character gets put into question as if I was

Malingering or exaggerating, just 'cause they're baffled.

Turns out if I do have this suspected diagnosis,

The "nothing" they kept finding would be explained:

They did tests that would never pick up the condition. 

Only a genetics test can confirm the diagnosis.

The condition is classed as rare, and most doctors

Don't really know about it, so won't think of it.

I'm still on the waiting list for the geneticist,

But the upcoming appointment's with a physiatrist.

I seriously have knots in my stomach about it all,

And hope that the experience won't be miserable.

I need a solution to better my body's deteriorating state.

I need pain relief 'cause this is starting to get too intense.

I want to believe the physiatrist will be able to help.

I'm a nervous wreck, I want to present my case properly.

I want to have hopes the whole process will lead somewhere.

I just want to be able to move, stand up or walk whenever.

the gun firmly pressed

against his temple, he sat there

and they walked in, smiled

asked him how

he was doing today

as if the obvious 

wasn't evident enough

one more minute, he thought

it's all it'll take to make his point

j'en arrache ces temps-ci

tellement de changements

et un paquet d'incertitudes

qu'on dirait que la descente

n'en arrivera jamais à sa fin

i'm struggling these days

so many changes

and a pack of uncertainties

that you'd say this descent

will never reach its end

il y a aussi une panoplie de soucis

qui au jour-le-jour grandissent

cette pression prend tant de place

qu'elle m'ensevellit complètement

et m'empêche de me mobiliser

there's also a mountain of worries

which grow day by day

it's pressure that takes a lot of room

it buries me completely

and prevents me from getting on

comme j'ai dit, j'en arrache pas mal

je ne sais pas comment je vais

m'y habituer, si j'y arriverai

je le vis très mal déjà les fois où

je me retrouve incapable de marcher

as I said, i'm really struggling

i don't know how I'll be getting

used to this, if i'll be able to 

i already live it very poorly the times

when I find myself unable to walk

si cela devait devenir norme quotidienne

j'ai juste le goût de pleurer à l'idée

que je serais encore plus dépendante

j'aimerais être plus forte pour

confronter cette éventualité possible

if this should become a daily norm

i only feel like crying at the thought

i'll be even more dependant

i'd like to be stronger to

confront this possible eventuality 

mais en ce moment

la force n'y ait pas

la tristesse et la frustration

me prennent fortement

et je dois admettre, j'ai peur

but at the moment

the strength isn't there

sadness and frustration

strongly take over me

and i must admit, i'm scared

The heart's so sore

Doesn't know where

It should throw itself

The pains of trauma

On an incessant loop

Unfixable brokenness

The blood's an obsession

Feeding the delusion

It's the only way to better

The interests are waning

As the madness carousel

Wants to start up its gears

The poisons' memories are

Master manipulators which

Trick the soul to go back

The hopes are a distant

Notion of a long ago time

And there's no escape

This life's nothing to want

Or care to carry through

'Cause enough is enough

The energy required to 

Make the best of impossible

Crushes all feebling resolve

But what I want, what I can

Do to permanently solve this

Will never be mine

- still currently going on about "help" systems because I've had to deal with them again in the last few months... after many years having given up on them... Geneviève is a young social worker who isn't my intervenante (counsellor, I think in English), and she really wants to help, but... 

Dear Geneviève,

You're a sweet person

And no doubt you have

Very kind-hearted

Intentions and hopes.

But dear one, don't

Take this the wrong

Way, I'm not new

To this whole process.

I've been bounced around

This system longer than you've

Been alive, and unfortunately,

I've acquired a baggage

When it comes to these

Services you work for.

My experiences have not

All been on the side of good,

So you'll have to forgive me

If I'm not as enthusiastic

As you are when it comes

To finding the correct help.

'Cause quite frankly,

I don't believe it exists.

Not for my situation, anyway.

I've been told many times

In most unkind fashions

That you don't even know

Are possible in your field.

It's an assumption, sure,

But you have to understand

The perspective I'm coming 

From to be saying this:  It's

Let me down badly very often.

So, my trust that anything

Has changed in this system

Since I long ago left it

Isn't all too strong right now.

And not to be mean,

There's also your approach

That has been questionable

In the last few weeks.

On a few occasions,

I felt like I wasn't part

Of your intervention at all.

Like you had a goal to achieve.

And whether the discussion

Was to be of benefit to me or not,

You insisted we would have it.

Like I hadn't said I don't need it.

Then there was your colleague

Who was obviously surprised

I wasn't preoccupied with the topic

Of what felt like it was her homework.

So she instead barged in asking

Personal questions as to what

Else could be preoccupying me then,

As if this was anything appropriate.

I mean, I'd never met this girl

Before that moment, and the both

Of you decided we'd talk

Whether I wanted to or not.

It was a mind-boggingly weird

Thing to be experiencing.

Made me wonder where your heads

Were at to not see this isn't done.

Especially for that moment's context:

By the door of the food bank centre

Waiting to go in in a few minutes.

It just didn't make any sense to me.

Sure, you are intervenantes,

But for goodness sake,

The fact alone isn't enough to assume

Everyone wants to talk to you.

Talking personal stuff with strangers 

Is really not my thing.  I'm surprised

My conditions you know about didn't 

Clue you in on this obvious symptom.

It also surprised me that you two were

Surprised covid wasn't a preoccupation

For me in my life, at least not completely.

There are other more pressing things, like:

I'm going to the food bank?  I'd say

That is a pretty good clue.  Sometimes I get

The feeling 'helpers' are so disconnected

To the reality their clients are living.

And that day, you made me feel

So uncomfortable, so very awkward,

'Cause the two of you didn't listen

At all, and I felt forced to give answers,

When really, I'd just told you

I'm fine, I have no questions about it.

Your insistance really threw me off,

And I really don't like being rude.

The whole deal felt like it was for you.

It had nothing to do with helping me.

To have that feeling be felt again

Just plays on my doubts this is wise;

I mean, to get back into this system.

I'm having a hard time shaking off

The feeling that it's a regressive step

For me to even be contemplating.

So, I'm sorry if my recalcitrance

Bursts your bubble a little;

Just remember that your clients

Have experiences that come with them,

And some of them will never fit with

All of the criteria, or what you studied.

Real life isn't so cut and dry, and

Helping starts with understanding.

Never assume that the standards

I'm currently incapable of meeting

Are just a question of guidance

And time to get myself up there.

The idea that I don't know

My own situation, my own capabilities,

It's short-sighted and condescending.

I know that's not what you mean.

Anyhow, I hope you'll understand

I think you're a great person, it's clear

You want to make a difference.

Just, don't forget your client when you try.

- ooh, rhymes ... and super cheery, to boot... ;)

Kind of getting harder to find some fucks

'Cause this living business truly sucks

The belief that it has any deep meaning

Is a pure construct of the human being

Don't get me started on the idea of purpose

That is simply the most preposterous

How's this for a thought?  It has no point

Not saying it in the hopes to disappoint

But we come from nothing

And we leave to nothing

And everything in between is just a delay

Filled with distractions on how to allay

The inevitable truth we're nothing special

And our existence has no tones of crucial

So yeah, my fucks have been diminishing

There is very little left in me to be wishing

- repost... "help" systems in place in our societies operate in ways that can hardly be qualified as helpful more often than not... I tried to convey how the experience has often left me feeling... 

 - ça s’explique mal mais…

La situation me semble aussi infiniment absurde que

si on avait placé des juges Olympiques sur le bord de l’eau

pour évaluer la grosseur des bulles et des éclaboussements

que le noyé produisait pendant sa noyade

et qu’on avait analysé chacune de ses tentatives

à se sortir de sa détresse en lui critiquant le fait

qu’elles s’étaient avérées fatalement infructueuses.

C’est à ce point-là incroyable.

(rough English translation)

An astounding case

- not easily explainable but…

The situation seems to me to be as infinitely absurd as

if they’d placed Olympic judges on the riverbank

to evaluate the size of the bubbles and the splashes

that the drowned guy was making while in the process of his drowning

and that they’d analyzed every one of his attempts

at getting himself out of his distress by criticizing him on the fact

that they'd revealed themselves to be fatally unsuccessful.

It’s to that extent incredible.

- thanks for bearing with me... I'll come to terms with it...

It comes down to this

Spend a lifetime

Bogged down

By mental anguish

From those traumas

And one day

Finally start

To get out of it

Only, surprise,

It's your body's turn

To fall apart now

It just keeps getting

Better and better

Doesn't it...

I really try to stay

In a more positive

Frame of mind

But this is

Admittedly

A hard one

To swallow

I'll need a minute

Sure, you worked hard

To acquire your title

And that's something

But I don't know you

And I owe no deference

Or respect toward you

Not for your title anyway

And my not using it

Doesn't mean disrespect

It's just that you and I

We're only humans

And it makes no sense

To elevate you above

Any other person I meet

Just 'cause you have a title

So I'm sorry, I can't 

I'll never address you

By any title you achieved

This forced expectation

I should mind your "station"

Doesn't sit well with me