i may never come back...

i got spotted at paris charles-de-gaulle airport yesterday morning.
a music industry agent - a guy who's actually done a lot of work over the last 20 years - who is a frenchman long residing in toronto
he said he heard about me through my booking agency blabalabla compliments blabalba and then he said the shocker -

"your sound reminded me of paris.
and while i sent your stuff to friends from toronto and new york they said it was good, the response i got from friends in italy and france were incredible. it just confirmed that canada isn't really the place where you should be making music - they wouldn't appreciate it."

it so strange how people from over there can "hear" it. i can't quite hear it. i make music to breathe life into my sadness, hoping it won't sound too redundant. i'm starting to think that i might prefer playing music for my walls. i don't like all this exposure. i'm way too senstiive too everthing. i'm overexposed and seen and heard too much. and it's really all in my head. but the more people i meet, the more i feel claustrophobic. like telling my stories for them to write a bio feels like someone stealing my soul as they took my picture.

i don't like the transient aspect to my life right now or ever i guess. nothing is stable. nothing is what it seems. and nothing ever every lasts for long. maybe it's just a consequence of having roots laid in the ocean, in boats. i want to be able to tie myself to a tree that has its flesh digging deep into the earth's core, molten with its lava, pulsating with its beat. i feel as if my heartbeats are all offbeat.

finally, without wanting to, i dote on the people who don't feel shit for me. i dote on people who don't know my worth. i'm too afraid to believe the people who actually do know it because in the end they drop the bomb and tell me they were just ... lying.

i'm waiting for the morning i won't wake up crying.

sadness is infinite bliss...

if only.
back in paris.
going to accept my award.
going to start writing things with more structure on this blog.
make it far more anonymous than it is...
besides,the radio show died....

i've had no luck finding an appartment during my stay. no one will return my calls or anything...

some writing borrowed from my buddy ina julien... here goes:

each noise stings
at the fingertips
a shift of skin
with occupational whim
and the sleeplessness brakes
the strength in my spine
holds it up
and away
out of reach
sensitizing me to sudden
everythings

no more sad haikus

no more sad haikus
just forcing myself to write 5 - 10 sentences per day.
last night i could not go to bed. this morning i couldn't leave the house. i made an excuse for bailing on everything i said i would do aside from basics: eating, laundry...
i still haven't called my sister.
i'm upset that she would expect me to call her when she didn,t call to let me know she was going under the knife on monday (re: endometriosis).
i know it's little of me - she could have died and i might not have a sister in good health today but... i'm feeling so detached from my family right now. and the trips only make it worse. my dad called just to say hello and find out how i was and i was (1) unable to formulate what that was and (2) left the 4 minute civil/cordial conversation crying.

how many more slumps? how much lower do they get?
how high will be the highs? will they be high enough to make me forget?
because right now (i'm not trying to rhyme) but i can only muster up the strength to watch paint dry.

some hope though - am still writing. writing about angélique. the slave who burnt down old-montreal. it feels good. especially after having missed out on haiti day in toronto last sunday :-P

paris day 4 (of 10)

fuck you paris for being the city of lovers.
i wish i really could enjoy blessings at the moment they are brought to me. so i did. i tried.

nikoo suggested that when things or people make me upset, i'd take a walk. so i did. and i walked. i bought sustenance (today, i've only been able to ingest a quiche) and found a gorgeous church in the middle of the 9th district. there was a park out front with children playing and couples making out. there was a garde telling people it was inappropriate to go to 3rd base in front of the church. there was a statue of the virgin and she oddly had 3 children in her care... i'll have to do some research about that. i'm very curious.

the scene could have made me want to puke, as do most things endearing nowadays. but instead, i was genuinely moved. and felt like taking pictures of the front of the building. it also made me want to say a prayer and take advantage of my time in solace to come into my faith. healing's great... but i didn't get that far... not today.

the parisians i met today were not rude, but just honest. i met the manager of one of the candidates who lost the grant i won. she and her girlfriend (who works at louis vuitton) are straight out of "the l word" except French and classier... well... classy French women aren't all that classy. well, no more classy than anyone else. so we should quit making a big deal about it.

is paris burning? or am i?

here's some daily thoughts for sugarmommaless . didn't do it last time, but got me some regular internerd access this time. and am feeling particularly homesick. the longer i stay here, the more i realize that this will be my life for 6-8 months of next year. not ready to leave my crib (and i do mean baby-bed) but crumby tiny appartments and the boho life of a broke musician teaching English under-the-table awaits.

PARIS - day 1 (of 10)

air france thoughts
nice gadgets, endless amounts of baguette, a big hunk of camembert and generally good healthy food and service. i was happy and left satiated but not nauseous.

airport panic attack
kept being told i was in the wrong line / right line in customs because they fucked up my ticket and it took me an hour to get to the place where my luggage was supposed to be. add this to the general french lack of friendly customer service made me start heaving and crying thinking i'd gotten my guitar stolen... not a good time for that to happen. and then they had the balls to say "madame s'est trompée". no fuckers, y'all messed me up...

maids' quarters in the red light district
the attic-flat i am staying in for the next few days while i couchsurf through supportive people's homes... i am a block away from the moulin rouge. and as per usual steps away from "alimentation générale" stores (fruit markets) and bakeries. paris' red light district makes me smile: it screams fluorescent 80s and disco 70s. i promise to take pictures.

25,000€ worth
my label-mates whipped me into shape for tomorrow's interview. be up, be brief and be gone. need to muster up uber-confidence about my "mad skills" and "innovative music". laurent suggested i talk about my identity because parisians are *just* getting aware of intersections of identities and he finds my music is a clear testament of mine. i love these good people who believe in me. it gives me a break from myself sometimes.

cheese
the camembert is still cheap and yummy.


----

my panic attacks are more frequent these days.
my insomnia is pretty bad.
i have to cry about 15 mins to an hour of each day to get stuff out of my system. it was hard on the plane. it gets hard at work. it needs to stop.
and yet, i should be so happy. things are moving. but the changes are getting to be drastic.
and i'm not just crying about the usual (crappy break-up, being unattractive and/stupid, being useless). something gloomier lurks atop my thoughts. something nameless.

i have fond memories of last weekend and hanging out with friends, meeting new people with great brains, especially 5 yr old mandisa - she's SO happy and lucky to have a cool activist/ conscious mom. taking her to ballet creole was a trigger for the childhood my cousin and i did not have but strive to leave the next generation. the trigger was also one that causes panic attacks nowadays. more tomorrow. gotta wash my face and sleep. it's half past midnight here. and my insomnia is making jetlag a non-issue.

corny haikus

i wrote these today at work.
it's kind of like i had this feeling.
this feeling something would happen today.
a major release. i just kept writing. i actually wrote more. prose/surrealist/non-fiction. it feels really fucking good. i might post some of it here. but for now, i will spare you and will only allow you to read some corny and sad haikus

nausea sets best

real longing for release

with tears at the tip

.

forget all of me

and what harm you had done well

repeat it with her

.

is salvation sweet

humility hard to reach

angels candied-stone

little did i know when i got home that i would be "de-friended" from her facebook. whatever. she wants to be happy with her new little woman. that's fine. i can cry about how she never even grieved me all i want, it won't make her grieve me any more. i am the only one sad in this whole thing. and besides, at least i'm not quoting cheesy ani difranco lyrics like her gf is. and i quote
"A... is a bull and you are a china shop"
and i could stare at the brand spankin' new pic of them grinning really hard and holding hands together... i could stare at it. but i won't. i've blocked her from my facebook so i can't search her and she can't search me. and that is where our pathetic epic will end.

yeah. "you had time" is a SAD love song. not a happy one. and it's also very mid-90s.
what what? the bitch is back. :-)

new blog

just an exercise to see how much i could possibly write without being able to make these posts private...

why radiolina? i just like the way the word sounds and because it's a little radio, i guess i can self-associate. and also... because radios ramble... and like you may see in this blog... i can ramble on and on and on and on......................................

:-)