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The universe of Jocelyne

Photo 1: Last Saturday, the camp, I managed to tear myself away from pain and misery in my book go for a long walk in the last rays of sun this afternoon. In this play of light and shadow, I also saw what I call a downtown hares!

Photo 2: Returning to the camp where waiting for me after this novel within me passionately, I sketched this picture of our camp as m 'appeared in this strange light on the other side of the "swamp", which could have illustrated the universe Jocelyn is also mine.

Photo 3: Before returning to devour other pages, I still had to feed my friends. This one, though high, takes the time to greet me before attacking his meal.

universe Jocelyne

Critics are ecstatic, and even Jean Fugere, writing in his column on the First Channel Radio-Canada lost for words, before declaring "Fabulous" the universe, history, scenery and characters of his latest novel. This kind of criticism does not usually influence me. Me is rather Jocelyne itself interests me, one I know and like a long time. But I'm still happy for her that her talent is finally recognized.

Our professional worlds have often crossed. Because Jocelyn has always earned his living other than in writing, no doubt, we are here in Quebec. With a natural affinity we felt both by dint of cross, we arrived often draw parallels with our personal universe resembled too. And our inexplicable desires to write, our foibles, our habits, we did not take himself seriously, neither one nor the other but we knew we shared this consuming passion, and this need that we sometimes marginalized. Jocelyne meet either at work, at the book fair, in any cultural event, by chance in a restaurant or grocery store, has always been a magical moment for me. That girl is a real!

She lives in a small village near here, Cléricy, but to do it faster, they say Rouyn-Noranda. Born in Acadia, she arrived in Abitibi very young and I recognize her from the same roots (or rather algae) in the same quest that all those who seek instinctively a lost country, a paradise flew, to find . Another case we have in common, always implicitly and that is not explained. His spouse is a woodsman, a sort of Crocodile Dundee in the boreal forest. She can not invent any of the authenticity of what she writes, despite his fertile imagination and his world so full of all the characters she embodies. Jocelyne, when she writes, does not create everything from nothing and that I know on good authority!

Upon publication of her first novel in 1996, I was conquered by your unique, intimate and personal that is his. Life as an image , published by XYZ, marked for me a discovery, a turning, an awakening. It is a book that I lived a long time.

In 2000, again at XYZ, she published The heirs of the mine a particular universe of mining town that is familiar with the life that takes place, the influence of any powerful, what is happening below the surface and in the lives and intrigues lived by his characters. A few years later, in 2006, still faithful to the same publishing house, she published Jane roads.

We see that Jocelyn took his time to write. We do not draw a flower for her to land faster. It publishes every five years, in addition to his passion for writing, she has a life too! So I waited a little anxiously as the last is expected to mail a letter from a friend. A hurry, I did not wait rouynorandien its launch, so I went straight to my favorite bookstore and order it because I had all copies had flown like hotcakes. A nice problem to Jocelyne and her publishing house that had to go into reprint, victims of their success!

It rained birds is the title of his fourth novel published in the first quarter 2011, Editions XYZ, by Jocelyne Saucier, a talented writer.

I can not find the words to speak accurately and in a detached way. So I start sentences like that on the fly, and I trust you, you always understand me usually ... This is a novel that I could not let go until the end and even after, he still with me, you understand? It's been a while since it had not happened. I was caught up, seduced, dependent, hanging, begging, a little more and it would become insane!

And the characters ... If true, if endearing, is known to like that, they are found everywhere here in the forest or in small shops in villages. They can be heard live, breathe and think, especially in their silences and looks that speak for themselves. Mine are different names but are called Jocelyn to her liking, it is his privilege as a novelist.

If freedom is so dear to your heart than mine, if you are a hermit's life and often tries fascinates you, if a bit of crime and folly sweet charm you know, if you like you to tell true stories need not be disguised or embellished to touch you, if nature means a healing balm on your wounds to the point of wanting to blend in it, if you talk about the resilience of abundance and humanity, if old age and death achalent you and you aspire to become more serene face of these normal stages of dying, if you still believe in the immeasurable power of human love, then go ahead, the library or bookstore, you could plunge with delight into the world of Jocelyne, where It was raining cats and birds.

Oh, I forgot to tell you ... I almost cried at least twice while reading it. It either, it had not happened since reading a small booklet borrowed from the school library Galinée, Matagami, when I was in fourth grade! I can not remember the name of the author, in that time, it mattered little, but this little book from the Library rose, and was headlined, asked a Mommy . I tried both this childhood memory since, if you knew, in all garage sales, bric a brac, used book stores, etc.. So I felt like the replay, with my adult eyes, to find the little girl I was. There are books you never forget. As childhood friends.

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Invaders

Photos 1 and 2: Do you remember the week Last, when a ruffed grouse came parading in front of me to wish me a good Valentine? A week later exactly what is looming on my horizon, in my field of vision, do not fire at all the same emotions ...

Invaders

Do you see the fishing shack? Me, I just see it. It's in my face all day long yesterday morning. It makes me pump the air. It's nothing that you do not hear the reaction from Crocodile Dundee when he came to work yesterday. He could not believe his eyes either. He said bad words here!

The guy moved in front of our homes. We are a few to have him in our field of vision, but its facade is turned specifically to us, as if to spy on us. You feel overwhelmed. Hence, the name given to them at that kind of world one.

You tell me that the lake does not belong to us. That's true. Caring for 20 years, we pay exorbitant taxes to live here, are constructed by thinking environment and wildlife, it was almost in the house, it is part of our landscape, even inside, but the lake is true, it does not belong to us.

Lake Dufault, as I affectionately call "my" lake is the source of drinking water for the city of Rouyn-Noranda and surrounding areas. That should give him some respect. But it is not. Except for some residents.

My lake shores inhabited some but not much, thanks to laws that have been to stop 25 years ago in the anarchic development stopped there: the path of Sailing, the Rue Gagnon Avenue des Iles, the way the Beavers, and the way England. That's it. Its area is about 8 km by 4 km. WELL YOU WANT ME TO SAY WHAT HAPPENS BETWEEN TWO Zoreil AN INVADER SETTLE THAT COMES WITH HIS SHACK FISHING IN FRONT OF U.S. IN OUR BUBBLE?

There is no law that protects us from the invaders. They think of nothing at all, especially not to others. What's next? He will come and borrow a cup of sugar? Ask us to come pee in our bathroom? Or worse, pee out on the lake by drawing a sign of peace and love in yellow on the white snow, making us beubaille? It will give each other a music box that spits out at 120 decibels and we impose its boom boom? There's no limit to human stupidity!

The guy probably works. He will fish the weekend. But his cabin, he was in the face all week, you know. That's it in fact you of the penalty,? Simonac, it is in Abitibi, a country of space and freedom. That is to say that we are not immune to anything, us either, especially not the invaders.

It reminds me of an anecdote. A true story, as said another. Our friends Bob and Marie-Claude live path of Sailing. Their slope to the lake, there are small mounds they have left au naturel, with trees, blueberries, etc.. One night in August, Bob comes to work, there is parking in Your Ride and he sees a man and a woman picking berries in his yard. Always cool, my Bob, he said: "A nice tiller, eh? . The invaders feel disturbed, they opine, but do not prolong the speech. They pick the handful beautiful ripe fruit and sweet. Bob is my resume, always inclined to do a bit of education: "Because you've come here, you see the white house ... . Then the two sparrows, arrogant and insulted him throw, "Wood is at the very world ". That's where Bob has lost his temper is legendary. He was escorted to their Your Ride, and a good boy, he left them with blueberries, telling them to make pies, they had a good foundation.

"J'overeact" I know, but it felt good to talk to you ...

-------------------------------------------- ---------------

Small note added in 14 hours: The end of history. It could be titrated as follows: The time I farted my coach for nothing, or, The steambath my neighbor gives me heat or, In speaking we understand .

short, I arrived just in the city. Opposite me in the parking lot of the grocery store, there was my third neighbor, Yvan, all happy to be happy to tell me that he goes fishing in James Bay for three days. I tell you our conversation:

- In any case, you'll have good weather to go!

- Mets-en!

- Why you go so far, Yvan in front of you, there are some who think they are in Ste-Anne de la Perade?

- Ah, you speak of the dark cabin?

- Yeah, right, this one has a beautiful view of our houses ...

- This is the shack Ti-Blanc (the neighbor between us) he wants to make a steambath with his fishing shack!

- ...???... You sure about that?

- You always thought ben not that there were people thick enough to come and live the rest of us stuck on well in front of us?

- nenon nenon Ah, I thought nothing Pantoute, I said it as well. Yvan good fishing!

I have no ego, I just show you. But as I still have a little pride, I hope with all my ♥ my neighbors do not read my blog. Otherwise, my new hobby, it becomes: "I do not care how ridiculous" and try to remember what my mother told me when I was little: "When you is not worth a joke ... "

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A new day dawns A Valentine

Photo: This is the first one I posted here, January 24, 2007, when I opened my blog. It means a lot to me.

A new day dawns

How you say ... I lack words to express my joy ... The sentences are running through the small end of the funnel ... At the same time, life carries me from all directions at once these days, I have not even had time to respond your last comment but I read them and I will, I promise.

My blog has never been my personal journal, so I wanted to avoid it but since coming here to take from me, I must share this message that was on my answering machine yesterday on my return.

The pathologist's report is conclusive: NORMAL. I repeat: NORMAL. I listened twice, this message as expected. I checked to repeat all the details and know what happens next. That tells you ... We will follow me closely, we will do everything thing and I will work with all my heart.

relief, serenity, joy found, recognition to Life, wonder, I do not know, I feel like a little bird that would hit hard in the window, still alive but stunned, recovering his bearings, trying to shake its wings to fly again.

Thank you for waiting and hoping with me, you made me warm at heart, I will never forget.

Life is calling me!

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real-time ticket

Photos 1, 2 and 3: It happens in real time, I'm at my desk working and this beautiful casserole (a ruffed grouse) came wish me a happy Valentine's Day!

A Valentine realtime

was a few minutes ago ... I was working on three or four files at the same time and I had just made a brilliant discovery that would save me time, which would allow me to be present wherever I had to be today to meet all the needs are greatest. There she appeared to me, her, the pan directly into my field of vision when I am sitting at my desk, as if to say, 'Wow, there are times you're awfully effective, my casserole ! "(We called the same one and the other in the privacy).

Today is Valentine's Day. I have written here that this festival too commercial in my opinion should be broader and include all forms of love, whose friendship. I repeat the same vow while making you mine that have nothing to do with flowers or chocolate or what is bought in stores.

Yesterday, returning from the hospital, I left with my brother in his mailbox a book that I wanted him ready. I took two minutes before leaving home for him to write an affectionate little word on a map very quickly cobbled together with hearts, red paper and all that he abhors. I was funny. But I still put my heart and my big sister sense of humor in it. It reminded me that evening, he found it funny and touching when he arrived home. Was chatted a good shake, I missed her laughter, it was generous of himself as always. It was also Valentine's Day last night, even for him ...

My Valentine girl waiting at the other end of town at noon, his university course ends here for today, it has miraculously two hours free, she would like the spend with me is the jackpot. It gives me the jackpot for Valentine's Day, time shared with her. I stress, must I be in hospital with Belle Maman. My Valentine said: "I'll go with you, I will see Grandma at the same time. "

Crocodile Dundee does not know it yet, but in his lunchbox, I had made last night ti chocolate hearts surplus. It's not much but it heartily, he will know that I think of him. This morning he was spinning ugly, coughing, a sore throat, he slept badly, it is congested and exhausted, rising. I told him: "How do you go about your day, sick as well? He said: "I'll start by going shovel, I'll take two Tylenol and I'll sing louder, you know, our life is a contest of courage! "I looked Starting with his lunch box, still smiling, courageous, brave heart, he changed tack, I sent him a beak blown out the window.

Valentine's Day is a celebration of all those and all those who love each other. It also includes the love ...

♥ ♥ ♥

Small note added at 20 30 pm tonight (I'm definitely used !...): That's what happens when a ticket garrocha in 22 minutes. I had to leave the house without rereading. This is terrible, my tenses that contradict my faults and 2nd year B! I do not fix anything, I leave this post as is, all that is most authentic, in fact I wrote it in real time, between 11 and 11 h 16 h 38 this morning!

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Ahmadou Kourouma 2

Good evening,

I continue to write on this writer Ivorian. Today I talk a little about him.
Ahmadou Kourouma was born in Boundiali. At age 7, he was separated from his parents to join the family of his uncle. It was he who dealt with education Kourouma. He has seen his mother before the age of 27. He participated in the group of sharpshooters of the colonial army. He worked in Paris in an insurance agency for two years after he returned to Ivory Coast. In 1963, the Ivorian writer is unemployed because of a conspiracy (wrong) he was accused by the government. During this period he wrote "The Suns of Independence". In this work he wanted to show the plight of its people (Malinke) and political inequalities that are passed in that time. Authorities banned Kourouma to find a job. He went to France and got a job in Algeria in a position of actuary has worked for nearly five years. The writing profession was not expected by him. The desire to write has appeared after working as an actuary in Algeria. Hoping to write on African ethnology he began studying sociology in Côte d'Ivoire. At this moment the novel "The suns of Independence "was written. After several refusals, he received the motivation to keep trying to publish his novel. In Quebec Francophonie in prices, he won the opportunity to edit his novel.

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Winter

Photo 1: Last Saturday, we left the camp very early, Crocodile Dundee and me. Each time I arrive there, I undid my little backpack and I found my old stuff, I am overcome with a feeling of peace.

Photo 2: He was sweet, it was well with the Magpies and tits. Crocodile Dundee was splitting logs into quarters, me, the strings in the shed, bark on top, in a balance that I honed as that is very therapeutic!

Photo 3: It always delights me to see my man at work in his world of another time, so happy. An expansion of the heart, a little piece of song, one ax, accurate, and the log splits in two as if there had dotted lines that he was the only one to have seen.

Photo 4: birch bark, which are duplicated are the raw material I need to tinker with my note cards. I always have a good supply on hand. I just take pictures of my harvest of the weekend, at the same time you know how I do to make them. Otherwise, I'd be happy to tell you.

Ticket winter

Nenon nenon, nothing back to my horizon but I found this morning a little impetus to write a post nine. It was time to tell me, after over a month ... You would think that I finally abandoned my blog, which took 4 years on January 24 last.

Two small day at the camp and suddenly life becomes soft, full of hope, of simplicity and serenity of a beneficent calling for new life as she can be shaped. It is often said that manual labor prevents from thinking too much but I found this weekend that it helped mostly think better!

I brought two books in my luggage extraordinary, I alternated between one and another, and what seemed a whimsical contrast to the top proved to be a real treat in the end, in the decoration of trees and snow and the sound of the wood stove purring. I eagerly devoured the first half of Avard chronic François Avard and reread for the umpteenth time The notebook of a stroller the great Felix "no e" Leclerc.

I also took a long time to observe the designs of Isabelle, those it has offered to his dad at Over the years, his writing with a child or teenager on the back, all illustrating the same in substance, the great relationship that exists between them and which I welcome. For him and for her. For me too, because I can fully measure the importance that it takes a lifetime.

In closing this ticket winter may seem empty, I remember the taste of something we tend to forget when you think nothing is happening, that we end up with a space-time that one is tempted to call empty and useless, would not it be more profitable to consider the space-time as a true freedom, an opportunity that we is given back to jump further?

Small note to those who are worried about being cut trees: First, we only take those who are dead or diseased then, Domtar purchased by EACOM, s 'in all just shave our industry is a matter of weeks. The path is already made a few miles from camp ... With this gap, this new road between Seven and Fast Fast Two which gives access to the territory, it makes mineral exploration happily, and who knows what they will find like vein, we are on the fault line of Cadillac ( gold) and is already known that uranium deposit is in operation near Lake Simard. All this takes place "casually" while we think nothing happens noteworthy "in the North." Maybe I will come back soon, this is not the media that will keep you informed, it is certain. Neither of those here nor elsewhere.

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Ahmadou Kourouma

Amahdou Kourouma Ivory Coast is a writer. He is French and I studied in the course of French Literature.
Before talking about this writer, I want you to ask questions. What Francophone literature? If you are looking for on the Internet you can find this definition: "French literature is any literature written in French." This definition says nothing about the history of la Francophonie. It is a neutral definition and superficial. To learn more, we must ask questions like: How the French language came to other countries and regions? How did she become the official language? What is the difference of the word Francophonie in lowercase and uppercase? Why write francophonies instead of la Francophonie? Can I put other issues too, but I think it's good to reflect those I began.
Firstly it means that there is no single way to express themselves in French. To do this we write the Francophonie. Every person, people, country, city and region is expressed in its own way. How can we say "This is not French" in a variety of communicative one language?
I do not want to answer all these questions, if you want you can comment on this topic.
The writer, whom I introduced you, wrote novels, drama and books for children. In the novel I'm reading "The Suns of Independence", he outlines three topics: the Francophonie, politics and culture. The story is very dynamic. You never get bored, but there are expressions in the region I do not know. Despite these expressions I knew the general subject of the novel. I know there are things the teacher will enlighten me in the course, but I can finish this book quietly without losing the main topic. This course and this writer dealing with very important issues, they are for linguistic diversity exists in the French language. The rich cultural and literary diversity comes from the language to make the language of beauty and nobility different.

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Look! I have a real life!

Life in France, life in others.
study, it is a sacred pleasure. This is the strongest reason for travel. There are people who want to travel for taking photos. They recorded hundreds of photos to add to Facebook (my spell checker said I should write facebook mayuscule). The vice of our generation is the internet, but nobody admits it. To hide this truth people want to show other photographs showing activities, travel, pictures. "Look I have a real life". They spend the whole weekend by adding photos on internet sites. "Look! Paris, China, Brazil, USA! Look at me, I'm cool. I know the world. Because I travel. I like the simple people of the East. I took a photo next to several ethnic groups etc.. " Good, really good, long live the plurality! But why you do that? I answer for you! To show! The personal experience is shared the collective.
Sorry for the mistakes I made. "This text, he is not French."

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Goodbye! There are students

The time to say goodbye began in December. My neighbor is back in Canada. Yesterday my neighbor took his Mexican airline, today is gone my Belgian neighbor and another person of the fourth (the place more lively Planer). Friday will go from other neighbors as well. I see people coming out of this place surrounded by mountains, it's sad. I feel I lost something, but I actually lost anything. I gained experience, we must say that to my heart, my head knows well that speech. I think we want to keep People like the mountains of Grenoble, but it is not possible.

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very strange

Like an animal that came from the tropics:
"Come and see!", "He can read and write, the monkey who recites poetry!", "Straight from Brazil."
"But these monkeys do not believe in eating, fornicating and show your teeth!" (Said one visiting)
"Yes sir, but they are apes, you want what?"
The public begins to laugh.

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Brassens, my life is yours.

I see blue skies, sunshine and orange trees without leaves, I see it all and I feel nothing. Completely empty. Sometimes people look like multicolored paper. I also insist on a dumb sing. Life is fair, but if you do not understand their legal it becomes harder to live.
A woman dancing, a beer and a cigarette. Yes, I am a hermit who wanders about not leaving his room. The recitations of the poems are rare, literature is beautiful "do not touch!". I love France, yes I love France. My chest is open to this love. In bloody, I do not ask her love, but a word, a word in my vocabulary. The doctors came in the room. They begin to withdraw my lung, my heart, my astounded. I literally emptied.

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happy fools who were born somewhere.

For once, I think I am a coward. The French language is in all corners of the city. She's like the wind, like air. But I'm in my bubble and boil is a huge question mark. Language fleet and I accompany, but without any interaction. My brain tries to understand, for both questions are multiplying. My spirit is heavy because of these doubts and it becomes more difficult to support this language so free, so orthodox.

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Gratitude

Photos 1, 2 and 3: They were all taken at Christmas and each m inspires the same old-fashioned feeling: gratitude.

Gratitude

Each year at this time, come to my mind the words of my mother, those she had written to honor his parents who celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary. I must have been about 9 years and I had memorized his long text in order to make it more sensitive, putting all my heart a little girl who had a life before her, who felt things more that she understood them. I already feel vague and strange that those words were be meaningful to the rest of my life. It began like this:

"Before vanishing into the mists of the past, the joyful procession of Christmas and New Year invites us to indulge in any deep joy and intimacy. How is it that we always felt happiness again express wishes already old? Is that love and gratitude are sentiments that do not age but instead, become more intense heat and as time flies ... "

This way of being and see life was part of my "bar code" forever.

Recently, someone I know called me an optimist and I assure you it was not said in the tone of a compliment. For although I understand the intention behind the message was added it royally slapped on my nerves sometimes. Everything I have found to answer was: "Yes, I know myself I royally slap on my nerves sometimes. "

At the time, it has stirred my pen, I am questioning is healthy to do and I think I have demonstrated openness. And then, after careful consideration, I decided to take it. Point. In the following days, I stumbled across a reading that went something like this, that people who show gratitude to live longer. I wanted to laugh. I do not know if it's true, but I am sure of one thing as gratitude, to live with it every day!

The Holidays ( the joyous procession of Christmas and New Year ) was as always a whirlwind here. Before turning this page ( before collapsing in the mists of the past ) I need to pick a few precious moments to keep in my treasure chest ( to unleash a profound joy and all intimate ).

There were two days in the forest with "our children, our little Christmas, a simple pleasure, but so great to take the time to live with each other.

A trip from 20 minutes to run an errand in town with my brother, Jocelyn, confident that even at 900 km distance, it can be so close we understand with just the beginnings of sentences and smiles. And so we know where it comes: the same place!

A giant hug received December 31 and that I did not expect, a great declaration of love came from nowhere as if by magic. "You go, eh? "And I rocked a lot longer than a few seconds of this impromptu and enthusiastic hug that I had no choice but to abandon me.

Gratitude ... It means taking the time to savor those moments of eternity are gathered in passing and which let forget easily if we are not not paying attention. It also means that it is good to appreciate what we have rather than desperately wanting what you have not. Is growing, against all odds, the attitude and the ability of people happy ... fundamentally optimistic, although it can sometimes enter royally on my nerves. All things considered, I assume, and signed,

zoreilles, the optimist who can not and does not change its barcode xx

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Rink "found"! HAPPY NEW YEAR

picture: there was some minutes away, in January 2, 2011.

Rink "found"!

Continuation and conclusion of the saga of the rink this year, with supporting evidence. We had made in early December, lost before Christmas, found the 26 and 27 December, pampered until 30 December. It was "water" for the traditional party of 31, as I said in my previous post and here comes just the "find". Those who play hockey are now our neighbors and friends, our visit is any party since January 1. Bouhouhou (tears of despair).

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Photo 1: On the morning of December 31, 2010 ... Lots and lots of water on the ice that had all redone and sprayed on 26 and 27 December. Then it froze, it was perfect until December 30 but ...

Photo 2: That's what saved the tradition hockey table in the garage!

Photo 3: The final took place on the evening in the lounge. An exciting game that was able to monitor the kitchen!

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2011

I was in the preparations for the evening of 29 December for me. Because with the traditional part of hockey on the lake, 31, came with other traditions, such as family and friends who meet there around our wood stove, my soup partridges, of a large baking homemade bread and stuff that people only eat in us that day!

So I was ready to accommodate about thirty people, as always. From noon to ... some remain in bed.

The phone has not stopped ringing in the morning, I was about to hire me a receptionist. The big question was: "We will you be able to play hockey on the ice? . The answer was clear: "No". But Crocodile Dundee with a few neighbors did everything to transform it into street hockey in the street, it could have been very friendly. But there were too constraints. This avenue was abandoned at 11 am ...

remained the large parking lot in our yard to play games such as "confrontation" or several small teams of three competing. By putting the cars elsewhere, of course. Anyway, everything was melted, we saw the asphalt. But it started raining ropes, it was unthinkable to play outside.

Several have withdrawn. Others just are not coming. The first began arriving around 13 am and everyone returned to the house. Nobody outside. Unless smokers ... To 15 hours, our saviors arrived with a game of table hockey straight out of mothballs. The guys have patched up, oiled, and once Warmed far as the game, men are again the guys of the past, the atmosphere in the garage was rather overexcited. The girls did not play, I do not know why, it seems that hockey table did not interest those who were with us.

If I waited about thirty people, I have had a fortnight around my table yesterday, the day and evening. The age of almost 2 years to 89 years, the average was around 43 years, and it was more like a family party of New Year's Day as our traditional hockey game that was played for 19 years before us, which leads me to wish you ...

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2011

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