10 months in paris already!

i can't believe i've made this long.
album's coming out in 9 days. i'm going to start to blog again. i haven't had much time to write on the subway as of late. so crowded that it's hard to sit and scribble a few thoughts, rhymes, anything down. bah well. things are coming together nicely, even though it's joyful mess. here's little projects i have in store for myself:

- sewing back stage dresses i've torn during performance
- fixing up my bedroom in new flat in chinatown
- recording a cover of a keziah jones song for the RATP contest
- preparing a cover of "paint it black" by the rolling stones for france inter's "fou du roi" radio show
- going to catch a few movies at Cineffable - a independent women's film festival in paris

my camera's broken so no recent shots of recent travels as of late. i'll leave you with something i took in crozon (brittany) in august. since everyone's so bent on comparing me to asa. here goes...

it's week 2, but this was after week 1

at marx dormoy station, i found roommates. i am moving next sunday. marx dormoy gets its name from a french politicians who was part of the nazi resistance during WW2. the neighborhood is heavily populated with artists, students and people of colour. no drugs in sight. but people keep saying it's a dangerous neighborhood... i think it's because of the PoC and because it's not exactly tourist haven. either way, i'm really happy. :)

currently i'm staying in the expensive and bourgeois south end with tibo's sister. she's an absolute sweetheart but i know she's studying for her 'concours'. the roommates i'm about to move in with have a big 3 room appartment + kitchen (NOT kitchenette) + shared room (for parties and such) + 2 bathrooms + big entrance. of course, it's in the north end on the cheap side. between little africa and china town, adjacent to 'la goutte d'or' (the golden drop). they audioned me 3 times to see if we all had chemistry one-on-one and all three. it kinda felt like a scene straight out of l'auberge espagnole... complete with hot queer female roommate. and they're my age! and they're artists (the boy is a trained dancer, classical b-boy and modern jazz; the girl is a bartender/actress). they're so inviting and helpful and insist on the household being a community where people are honest, don't mess with your space and yet still share a positive vibe. parties once a month. yay!

the subways... are an interesting place to study french customs. how close people get to one another, how they interact, if they do at all. the first thing i noticed though, were the buskers and panhandlers - they are the most creative and talented i've seen. or perhaps, they're the only ones willing to strut their stuff. an old couple will get on the subway car and the wife will play the tambourine and walk around asking for change while her ole man plays a roma swing. a little 9 year old boy (who should have been in school) put on eminem beats and swings around the car poles like a stripper and shows his emcee skills. in two stops they're gone. two stops and no one has looked up. and if they do, it's because they find the music a nuisance. i haven't given money yet. i spend too much time amazed at the talent that sweats onto the city street. there's lots of life here... and the bitterness that comes with it.

ok, here's a pic of me at a recent concert in bretagne (brittany?) . i playe d in this awesome club that was decorated with broken and burnt music instruemnts in the middle of the country in the north west, by the river. it was gorgeous. it was great. i opened for bibi tanga et le professeur inlassable. the latter made it a point to play sober. awesome guys. i love how musicians here have careers at any age. easier for dudes, yes... but still. i have so much to write but so little time to write it all... more soon i promise :) i also ended up having a great conversation about grad school and social work after my set with an audience member who was a radical social worker with a tongue piercing. she said it was hot to know that a good musician had "de la tronche" (transl: "smarts"). *warm cheeks*

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.