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Skin and bones... After.

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

You know what is scary? Eating disorders.

Last night, I went to the avant-première of La peau et les os... Après. It is a documentary that picks up from Johanne Prégent’s 1988 film revolving around young girls and their desire to change themselves and how drastic this change becomes.
Seventeen years later, one of the girls portrayed in the chocking film is now the director of what she wants to call a movie about healing. Hélène Bélanger-Martin brings together the girls that she met when the original documentary was filmed to talk about the reality of what they went through as young girls with eating disorders.
Unfortunately, I haven’t seen Johanne Prégent’s documentary. I don’t know the depth that was touched within the picture but I can tell you that Après is not willing to go into details of the past, it wants to paint a brighter future. It tries to answer questions but sometimes fails due to the frailty of the subject. One thing that was clear, for me anyway, is that as young girls they all wanted to escape... They all wanted to find the exit and push themselves through at any cost. Fears that only they kept and maybe keep still within them slowly grasped their perception of what life was about and how they had to live in it.
Then there’s Charlotte. She is presently at a center that treats people with eating disorders. At 17, her outlook on life is dark and the only solace she can find is in time spent with her dog. Why? Because the animal does not judge.
The contrast between the lush getaway scenery of the group of four women against the blank walls of the young girl’s small grey room helps draw up the answers that were not spoken in the film.
Sadly, Charlotte was not at the screening last night and I could not give her what she says is all she needs: a hug.

In the following cinemas (French - no reservations)
-Starcité de Ste-Foy
-Starcité de Hull
-Maison du cinéma

Labels: ,

posted by Primessa Espiritu
8:29 pm


La beauté

Friday, October 27, 2006

... n'est qu'un piège tendu par la nature à la raison.

posted by Primessa Espiritu
5:10 pm


The Debaters

Monday, October 23, 2006

Now listening to: The Debaters.
[view cross-country schedule for this program]

Monday, October 23, 2006, 7:30 p.m.

You only have to check out the magazine rack in your local supermarket or turn on a TV talk show to realize that we are fascinated by celebrity. What the rich and famous get up to can become an all-consuming obsession. This week on the Debaters, two Canadians who are themselves no strangers to the media glare and public scrutiny go head to head over the idea that our fascination with celebrity is unhealthy. Host Shaun Majumder is smack dab in the middle of the smack-down as former Kid in The Hall Scott Thompson squares off against pop culture correspondent Elvira Kurt in a no-holds-barred dust-up this week on The Debaters, this evening at 7:30 (8 NT) on CBC Radio One. (Second debate: Public Smoking)

Scott Thompson squares off against pop culture correspondent Elvira Kurt in a no-holds- barred dust-up

Funny guy Shaun Majumder is the ringmaster of a brand new comedy series where stand-up comics go head to head debating topics in the news and on the minds of Canadians.

This show is great.

posted by Primessa Espiritu
7:38 pm


In due time

Sunday, October 22, 2006

...my forgetting could have damaged something that is still very fragile. I often do forget it, how strong one can look and how delicate the ice is around them.

So for all the people who are not me out there, this is for you: HUG.

This post is a hug for everyone who wants it and for all who need it. That is my little part of warmth for you today. Take this hug and carry it with you wherever you decide to walk to today. Transform it into a hand if you want. If you see someone who needs it, hold their hand and smile. It can work wonders. It has healing tendencies. This is a hug for all of those who stood next to me waiting for some time and attention and saw me walk away with a busy crisp jaw. This is a hug for my grandmother that I missed on the week-end due to my cold.

Human contact is a superpower that is in everyone's reach. Offer a hug to your loved ones this holiday season. Write a song about it and sing it while you wrap your arms around someone you care about. Sure this may sound silly to some. And to them, two hugs. And to those who think that that is stupid, three hugs.

Labels: , ,

posted by Primessa Espiritu
1:53 pm


Definitely Not the Opera

Saturday, October 21, 2006

Now listening to: DNTO on cbc.ca

posted by Primessa Espiritu
1:24 pm


Of bones and boxes

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Whenever I feel like a cycle is slow to end or, if I feel that a new cycle needs to begin, I change something. In the past, it's been nothing but expected moves such as a hair cut, new book, different room or web layout...

Which brings me to this very blog. This page either needs a stroke of colour or needs to be put down. The other blog I'm working on is almost done and it feels good to know that I can still design something of interest. But that is that, a serving of a different blog buffet. This is my venting area. This is where the ramblings come out.

So I guess, on a personal level this is good and for me to tape this up might have uglier repercussions... so to end my thinking out loud: back to the drawing board.

posted by Primessa Espiritu
1:47 pm


the moon got full like a plate

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

This is one of my favourite videos.
There are not many.

posted by Primessa Espiritu
2:14 pm


Morning buzz, V.J.B.

perhaps it is the color of the sun cut flat
an' cov'rin' the crossroads I'm standing at,
or maybe it's the weather or something like that,
but mama, you been on my mind.

I mean no trouble, please don't put me down, don't get upset,
I am not pleadin' or sayin', that I can't forget you
I do not pace the floor bowed down an'bent, but yet,
mama, you been on my mind.

even though my eyes are hazy and my thoughts they might be narrow,
where you been don't bother me or bring me down in sorrow.
I don't even mind who you'll be wakin' with tomorrow,
but mama, you're just on my mind.

I am not askin' you to say words like "yes" or "no,"
please understand me, I have no place I'm calling you to go
I'm just whispering to myself so I can pretend that I don't know
mama, you just on my mind.

when you wake up in the mornin', baby, look inside your mirror.
you know I won't be next to you, you know I won't be near.
I’d just be curious to know if you can see yourself as clearas someone who has had you on his mind.

posted by Primessa Espiritu
10:55 am


In The Morning Of The Magicians

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

all the noise has died away

when you wake up in the morning
Originally uploaded by Poisson-Lune.

Labels: ,

posted by Primessa Espiritu
10:28 pm


Vinyl Cafe

Sunday, October 15, 2006

I keep forgetting to talk about it so here you go:

One of my favourite radio shows is Vinyl Cafe with Stuart Mclean.

It's like waking up to the smell of home made bread.

Music, stories and always entertaining.

posted by Primessa Espiritu
12:45 pm



Saturday, October 14, 2006

Sitting in 3 layers of clothing, with a head that feels like a water tank, I'm watching Storytelling.

I've just finished the first part, Fiction. Up to now, I think I picked out a decent movie.


"I don't know about what happened, Vi, because once you start writing, it all becomes fiction."

"I'm not an idiot, man. I watch TV." (holding a gun to his head.)

"I need to see this with an audience."

I've just finished the second and last part, non-fiction, and still think I fell on something worth my time.

A barely palpable dust

I think.... I think reality TV is really sad. I think, the term "reality" is a broken vacancy sign above the TV screen. People tune in to see characters, not actors, being manipulated by script writers and sometimes by the audience. They are the new lab rats.

For your listening pleasure, we will pull and poke them, if that is what you want to see. We will be the evil hand in this, you need not feel guilt over it. Deus ex machina. These are real people dealing with real issues, we are just there to push them in the right direction.

Fiction is the new reality, isn't it?

If we take a daily tragedy, and televise it, we stare and what? We understand what we see but what difference does it make? Nobody will win an oscar for delivering that information. If you spin that same tragedy in a made for television movie, portrayed by really great actors, then it becomes a touching and compelling story. Maybe it gets noticed and then is turned into a full blown hollywood blockbuster... and then we can all remember and relive that sentiment whenever we have time to pick it up at the video store.

Reality isn't cutting it anymore, is it?

Second Life is a website I found on a blogbar. Welcome to the Matrix. I did not get around to signing up but I read it's presentations and saw a character create a guitar in the virtual world. It was interesting but I'd like some feedback from anyone who has tried it out.

What I understood is that some programmers created this virtual world in which you can create your image, your house, your job, your relationships and even invent things that are covered by their IP terms. You can go out on a date, go dancing, get a cup of coffee, buy land, sell land... Most activities you could do right now, except without the hassle of moving, or speaking, or getting wet.

Scary how addicted some people may get to this web. But...

Light Bulb.

If you can somehow harness the power of Second Life tools, if you can meet someone or create something tangible or even revolutionary and hold that element in your human life, then maybe it's worth the investment.

posted by Primessa Espiritu
10:43 pm


A torch A destination

Friday, October 13, 2006

I am so tired. O should not be writing anything right now...

But I want to start some stubs that I’d like to revisit in the future, either consciously or not.

There are many things that I can point out around me when thinking of possible addictions. My cat is one of them. When I leave home, I feel guilty for leaving him behind and sad that I can’t bring him with me. Because if I could, I would have him next to me all the time. I understand how many little girls want one of those little toy dogs that they can drag around in their purse. But I don’t think it’s fair. I wouldn’t want kitty to become an accessory. He has his own addictions. The brown paper bag. If he were to have no food for a day and I set out in the evening a bowl of food and beside it a brown paper bag, he would choose the bag and of this I am certain.

I am also addicted to movies. I spent over an hour in the Beaubien reading and looking for something that rang a bell. That’s my usual method for anything and nothing in particular. So I had two films in my hands already, which I would have switched for something that could ring louder, when I gaze at the Cocteau section and see The Blood Of A Poet. Hummer. I pick up the black and white box and start to read, the first line: Poets... shed not only the red blood of their hearts but the white blood of their soul. Buzz. Well, I looked at the box for what seemed like half an hour then put it back in it’s place and started for the store front. But a few steps later decide that I am too curious about it and return only to find it missing. Because, I guess, it’s the new cool thing to watch Jean Cocteau’s movies. Inconceivable. I walk around aimlessly, trying to understand why anyone would want to watch that specific movie. Is it popular and I’m unaware of its status? Maybe I misplaced it? How could I? I was right there in front of its tag.

Ding dong.

I don’t know why the bell rang at that time, reminding me to go back. I walk back to the row thinking to myself, if it’s there, I take it, if not, too bad. Can you believe it, it had mysteriously returned? You should.

Other physical dependencies I can’t really point out are warmth and lightness of mind. I cannot stand the cold, nor can I stand the heat. I want warmth. That is why winter is so cruel. The comfort of the between is rare. And the light... well peace of mind is something everyone wants for themselves. When I was writing under the pen Primessa, I was often exposed to positive rays of light. I was a witness to many poets leaving their mark in a virtual community as they used it to uplift those who cared to read. It changed me in a very positive way. But as I was practicing my art echo, I found inspiration to be rushing toward me and I was lucky enough to be able to draw from it.

At that time it was beauty feeding off beauty and I realize now that it was easy to step into that light and reflect it, but what of the darkness?

My first conjurations when I am stirred by something intense is to remember what it’s like. If I can’t relate it to any experience or memory (there is a difference) then what am I left with? Assumptions? Judgements? Can I simply witness this and let it be? Can I simply witness life around me and let it be? I’ve talked about it before but now believe it should be part of my creation process to pull light bulbs out of the void.

I have to admit that the latest events in my life have led me to ease into that pain of loss and confusion but when I remember Monday, the day at the ranch, I find a source again. I’ll tell you about that later.

Good night.

posted by Primessa Espiritu
10:43 pm


Le prix des fleurs

Thursday, October 12, 2006

Le tango funèbre
J. Brel/G. Jouannest 1964


Ah je les vois déjà
Me couvrant de baisers
Et s'arrachant mes mains
Et demandant tout bas
Est-ce que la mort s'en vient
Est-ce que la mort s'en va
Est-ce qu'il est encore chaud
Est-ce qu'il est déjà froid
Ils ouvrent mes armoires
Ils tâtent mes faïences
Ils fouillent mes tiroirs
Se régalant d'avance
De mes lettres d'amour
Enrubannées par deux
Qu'ils liront près du feu
En riant aux éclats
Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah

Ah je les vois déjà
Compassés et frileux
Suivant comme des artistes
Mon costume de bois
Ils se poussent du coeur
Pour être le plus triste
Ils se poussent du bras
Pour être le premier
Z'ont amené des vieilles
Qui ne me connaissaient plus
Z'ont amené des enfants
Qui ne me connaissaient pas
Pensent aux prix des fleurs
Et trouvent indécent
De ne pas mourir au printemps
Quand on aime le lilas
Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah

Ah je les vois déjà
Tous mes chers faux amis
Souriant sous le poids
Du devoir accompli
Ah je te vois déjà
Trop triste trop à l'aise
Protégeant sous le drap
Tes larmes lyonnaises
Tu ne sais même pas
Sortant de mon cimetière
Que tu entres en ton enfer
Quand s'accroche à ton bras
Le bras de ton quelconque
Le bras de ton dernier
Qui te fera pleurer
Bien autrement que moi
Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah

Ah je me vois déjà
M'installant à jamais
Bien triste bien au froid
Dans mon champ d'osselets
Ah je me vois déjà
Je me vois tout au bout
De ce voyage-là
D'où l'on revient de tout
Je vois déjà tout ça
Et on a le brave culot
D'oser me demander
De ne plus boire que de l'eau
De ne plus trousser les filles
De mettre de l'argent de côté
D'aimer le filet de maquereau
Et de crier vive le roi
Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah

posted by Primessa Espiritu
1:26 pm


Back to the frame

Monday, October 09, 2006

Originally uploaded by Poisson-Lune.

I am back from a very intense voyage in time.

I have been witness to elements that have changed me, burned my skin and filled the holes in my eyes.

Someone very dear to me has passed away and I spent these past days going through his remains...

I did not expect to come out of it this way.


posted by Primessa Espiritu
11:07 pm


Beauty Reborn

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

posted by Primessa Espiritu
10:29 am


Protein Warrior

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Just because I am vegan does not mean that I am a health freak. The truth is, I love sweets. Tasty treats, lacking any kind of nutrients, like Twizzlers (which are vegan), are my weakness.

So for someone like me, who needs to load up on protein in some alternative way, not by pills (can't swallow those things), or by shakes (they taste aweful) and not by simulated meat, it gets a bit complicated.

But as I was browsing some new products in my favorite natural foods store, I found This. It's something like chocolate milk and a fruit smoothie. It's called a Protein Warrior (Antioxidant Superfood Smoothie) and it tastes awesome and is full of organic goodies.

I recommend it to anyone who likes chocolate and omega fat.

posted by Primessa Espiritu
1:23 pm



Monday, October 02, 2006

Here are some of my quotes you may use to your advantage, put them in any context you want:

“Thanks but it’s getting late.”

“Wow. Really? I did not know that.”

“Ok well that is not a cell number so if you call leave me a message... I screen.”

“Oh yea? Your face is late.”

“lol again @ FAK YOO boaday”

“Everything is linked in some way.”

“He’s my little little. My sweetie, pookie wookie. My little guy. My kitten cakes.”

“Your face didn’t call you.”

“I don’t like the taste of fermentation.”

“Is that chocolate?”

“Above all, no harm. I heard that somewhere and it burned into me.”

“I like how he never discriminates.”

“I always skip the beginning now. Sometimes, I go straight to the end.”

“Monday weirdos.”

“Seriously, I don’t remember. I have no clue what you are talking about.”

“It’s like a reminder of what I cannot forget.”

“That is exactly what I needed to hear. Incredible. I wouldn’t have thought of it. Thank you.”

“I am in love with everybody.”

posted by Primessa Espiritu
11:23 pm


“Sunset Soon Forgotten”

Or, How to work around death

With fall comes the glimmer of the beginning of the end. The start is where we launch our hopes out of the fog. The end, where a moment pulls at our toes, slowly turns our head with a warning, a warming of parts forgotten to launch our hearts through the crevices.

Maybe the soundtrack of Our Endless Numbered Days has made it easier for me to accept the leafless bodies that slowly appear from the sidelines. These past days have been filled with family faces, struggling to pull some strength out of their definition of a family tragedy.

I was looking at the shadows on the ceiling of my bedroom the other night and wondered what my father could see at that same moment. But I was actually thinking about my grandfather, I just slipped in the thought of him being my father figure for a split second. But what can he see from his hospital bed? Don’t ask me how old he is. My grandfather is ageless. All I know is that he is younger than my grandmother and that this does not exclude him from the constant ticking.

When I got the news, I was at home, not dressed, not warm, by my mother, trying to deliver a message that still had her stunned. Not blinking, I stared at the shiny floor as I heard some technical words and a shaking voice sink into my skin.

Later, I found myself beside him, holding his hand that was held back by a fuzzy wrist belt. What do I say? Can he hear me? What do I say? What do I say to make it better? I whistle. A faint, vague blur of my breath trying to find it’s way to our memory of his renowned half-whistling while he worked. It sounds like the fall wind through the naked branches. Yes, that is how he whistled. It drove my late uncle Ron crazy when they worked on some garage project together.

In and out of consciousness. Our thoughts bounce back and forth as people who are unaware of the shadows look at us and use this talk that passes by like white and yellow lines. I have to build that database. Is my grandfather still alive? Intensive care is a fancy term for expensive monitoring machines. I can’t build the database without her list. I have to work on the website. My grandfather likes pancakes. When he was able to talk, he told my grandmother, after he woke from a long sleep, that he made pancakes, “the good kind, the kind we like”. Apparently, his mother, before she passed away, also made pancakes.

P.S.: Isn’t Times New Roman the worst font?

posted by Primessa Espiritu
11:33 am


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