Pour 2010, en guise de premier collavoyage, je vous propose ce petit texte ...
Je l'ai senti s'étirer l'autre nuit, comme si l'on avait cousu son extrémité à mon nombril et qu'on l'avait laissé filer, avec le reste, au gré des vents, dans l'entrebailement d'une de ces fenêtres ouvertes sur soi ... ou en soi. ça tiraillait tout juste, pas vraiment mal, parce qu'il y avait en fond ce son tendu comme un arc, cette imperturbable linéarité de ce qui ne saurait être mu : et l'un flottant autour de l'autre, comme les variations sur un même thème, c'était un peu de la bande originale de ma vie qui s'étiolait dans l'air brut, sans âme et sans odeur de la pièce. J'aurais voulu le corps, j'aurais voulu l'esprit, pour que l'un et l'autre suent la sève sublime de leur rencontre, en un point où de fil il n'est plus, que la courbure que l'on veut bien donner au monde pour qu'il nous ressemble ... c'est dans ces instants-là que les scènes, les points de vue, les cadres surgissent ... et c'était comme si lui-même était une personne légèrement différente dans chacun de ces cadres. Son intuition lui soufflait que ce compartimentage était une bonne chose, qu'il lui permettait de protéger la source la plus précieuse, la plus intime de la seule force qu'il possédât, la musique. Ce n'était qu'avec la musique, baigné en elle, qu'il se sentait vraiment en sécurité. Elle seule avait le pouvoir de le sortir de lui-même, de le soulager de son propre fardeau (1). N'était-ce pas cela l'infinité de soi, cette capacité moins à être libre qu'à connaître les chaînes qui vous entravent, à savoir où est la clef, comme on s'ébroue de sentir au fond de sa poche, tandis que tant d'autres la cherchent, la carte figurant où l'on a lâchement enterré sa véritable intimité.
Le voici donc ce fil qui vole et qui s'accroche un peu aux branches, de ci, de là, puis s'enroule et serre, se resserre, asphyxie sa propre autonomie, réaliste, sévère, puissant, complètement maître, croit-il, de ses errances : puis la sensation se dissipa. Il respira lentement, entra et tourna vers l'angle qu'il lui restait à observer, caché derrière la porte. (...) et ce qu'il vit fallit lui faire pousser un cri. Assis sur une chaise, de dos, un homme attendait.(2) Lorsque je me levai, la nuit avec les barreaux dans les côtes se rapela au souvenir de mes muscles abdominaux endoloris. Mais j'étais là, bien là, près à me lever, parce que l'horloge indiquait 8 heures en ce jour de nouvel an, sur cette nouvelle page, avec ce nouveau cadre et rien dedans.
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(1) Extrait de Conroy (Frank), Corps et âme, Editions Gallimard, 1996, p.266
(2) Extrait de Somoza (José Carlos), La Dame n°13, Actes Sud, 2005, p.404
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NB : Si vous souhaitez créer un collavoyage à votre tour et le poster, merci de respecter vos sources en les marquant et citant avec leurs références - c'est aussi respecter le lecteur qui découvre d'autres oeuvres par ce biais - et soi-même, par honnêteté intellectuelle. Pensez à taguer votre post avec le terme "collavoyage".
Actually, after all the above I'm really looking forward to the New Year as it seems to bring with it great opportunities and big challenges. So, I wish us all a fantastic, exciting and positively eventful 2010 as we start the new decade tonight! Happy New Year! <3
Frequently, I will fall madly in love with a piece of furniture that leaves even my closest friends & allies scratching their heads in confusion. Such was the case with my new desk. When I first showed it to my husband, I could tell he was skeptical, but knew better than to say so...When the glimmer is in my eye, just back away.
It was love at first glance on Craigslist for me:
So I contacted the owner to arrange a viewing. We had several conversations over the course of a few days while attempting to fit our schedules together and I learned that the desk had belonged to his mother and he had the pity-able task of sorting out her belongings. I told him that I was a furniture maker and would take really good care of it...that I wasn't sure if I would refinish it, or leave it alone, but either way it would be loved. In a small way, I think these exchanges may have been a bit therapeutic for him, as I sensed he was perhaps a bit choked up on the other line.
I should mention, in addition to being incredibly kind, he was also extremely fair with the price ($45 for desk, chair, & mirror) and generously offered to deliver it to me for free.
So yesterday, when he showed up, it was an easy no brainer. I saw it on the truck, knew it was love, handed him the money, and brought it in the house. It was a little dirty from being in storage, but a little simple green & elbow grease was all it took to clean up nicely:
While pulling out one of the drawers, my husband discovered hidden treasures had fallen into the back of it. I couldn't believe it - a beautiful desk AND hidden treasure! I had hit the jackpot. The best things we found: an antique bottle opener, stolen from a San Francisco hotel called The Raphael; a porcelain lid to a tiny box (this must have made her CRAZY trying to find it); an old silver swiss army knife? or nail cutter?; and best of all - a tiny gold skeleton key with a #2 on it.
Doesn't that just pique your sense of wonder & adventure like crazy???!!!! WHAT on earth does that key open and HOW will I find it?
Well, those questions may have to go unanswered. I plan to call the man today and offer him what I found...but I'm REALLY hoping he doesn't want them back, because I love them so much! I would like to keep them with the desk, either displayed behind my computer or in a shadow box on the wall. Each item has so much history and so many secrets to tell...If I am allowed to keep them, I know they will provide endless inspiration and possibly good luck while spending long hours feverishly writing at this desk.
When I was a desk jockey in San Francisco, I frequently changed my desktop image to something happy and tropical because I was, well - unhappy & cold. Now that I'm back in Hawaii, I wanted to put some images out into the internets, in case anyone out there is searching for warm, flowery, happy, tropical, Hawaii wallpaper:
As the pipe clamp blisters began to pop and heal on my hands, I knew I was in a race against myself to find my next gig in woodworking. I had just quit my job after I was put on a mandatory 72-hour work week schedule, which was neither safe nor necessary in the warehouse where I was a full time furniture maker. From my first taste of sawdust, I was hooked. I loved everything about it, especially the aches & pains associated with putting in a hard day of manual labor.
I had moved thousands of miles from my industrial Michigan factory roots, only to go to college and decide the blue collar life is what I wanted. I quit my job, only when it was obvious that it would either kill or permanently injure me...but it was still one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make. Besides the fact that I love it, I realize now how wrapped up I was in the identity of being just one thing...In my working life, I have always had to have at least three side hustles going on and I've done everything from nude modeling, to being a maid, a well-paid executive assistant, an extra in movies, a make-up artist, to an apprentice sander in a woodshop.
When I call home to update my family, typically, whatever it is I describe is met with unconditional love & acceptance, even if there is a tinge of it not necessarily being understood. As a woodworker, I was finally able to align myself with an identity - one thing that I loved being and doing...and it was so much easier to explain that!
Predictably, when the job fell apart, I scrambled for any paying gig I could find on craigslist. As it turns out, it was a good time to be involved with film making and I even signed up for acting classes. Being involved in the process is as exciting as it seems like it would be - even the long hours of waiting, while being completely dressed to the nines for a 6:00 a.m. call time, shouldn't be exciting, but it still is.
Around this time I also found work as a fit model, working for a local design house. It's a job that pays very well but the work is inconsistent. Still, I am extremely thankful to have it, even if it is a bit weird for me to use it as an identifier at the dentist's office and have the receptionist squeal and ask me a bunch of questions about the job. That's a rock star moment, I'm not going to lie, but it's completely foreign to me to identify myself as "model" in any capacity...especially when "factory rat" was a closer signifier just weeks ago.
I'm not sure if all the discomfort in lacking a fixed occupation or identity squarely rests on my shoulders, or if I am reacting to other people's confusion when I try to explain, "Well, I'm actually a furniture maker, but I'm out of work, so I'm doing the acting and modeling thing, while looking for another woodworking gig." Who does that? I'm not sure if I even understand myself anymore.
In the long run, it's probably a good thing that I am so versatile & adaptable - I always have something relevent for any type of resume I'm creating for myself (and I have at least 3); but I long for the day when I have a short answer to the question, "So what do you do?"
My first job was working as a make-up artist in my mom's cosmetic shop, which was located in "the dead mall" across the street from the mega-mall, where everyone respectable went to shop. The only folks who ventured into the dead mall were those with bizarre fetishes they wanted to try out in "public" without actually being too far out into the public sphere. My four hour shift was often punctuated with high school principals and construction workers in drag, trying out the new high heels they just scored at Payless; a 60 yr. old woman dressed as a naughty school girl being led around on a leash by her husband; your occasional flasher; foot fetish guy who would creepily make me show him the colors of "toenail" polish we carried and on & on...
Anyway, it appears that Vox is now the dead mall. Of course, I'm sure there are still many "respectable" folks on here...but more so, there are a lot just letting their freak flag fly. And I love it. You are my people and I'm happy to be back. But don't send me pictures of your penis. Thanks.
Hello Members of Girl Germs,
I am very sorry that I went MIA for so long and spammers have been allowed to contaminate this space. I'm back now and ready to lay the smack down. I nuked as many spam posts as I could find and members that are clearly robots...but I'm sure I didn't catch everything. If you see something that should be destroyed, please let me know so that I can take care of it.
Thank you so much for adding all this wonderful content to the group - I have enjoyed catching up with everything I missed and have learned a lot. Also, you have inspired me so much! I can't wait to start writing again!
xoxo,
Miss Scotch
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