DIVAGATIONS D'UNE AUTEURE,
TRIBULATIONS D'UNE HANDIMAMAN.
EXTRACTS OF MY BOOKS
PAGAILLE & ALOUETTE
Excerpt from "Rêveries & Paranoïa" - Part Rêveries - Lula DAWN
Find yourself in the same step. To deny two or three small aborted shells, in a cup or a bag as you please. Rat wound infected to the brim. Edge of the cup or edge of the sea. The place where I drown. Walnut or hazelnut? Tea or coffee? I put my finger there, beyond tea yesterday. Where today? The error leads me and I no longer understand. More or less what does it change? Change of course, the work tells lies. But in my dreams am I lying? I do not know anymore. Gull feathers on the wind the ego is slow to understand the mechanism of the heart. Loose heart and I crack. Cric crac is the undertaker! He horrifies me while in my head nonsense and words pile up like legos in my ego. Hoist the sails sailor. Sailor or mattress, what do I know? I'm here. Or elsewhere who knows. Who is it? Person. As the snake rings and its bells ring in my head. Lark's head. I would pluck your head. Head of feathers or hair. Itching powder. Fat or tea? Confuses ? Do it yourself. Roof over the head heart in crumbs, breadcrumbs. Umbrella pine. And on the ground crashes my head. Lark's head.
ramblings
excerpt from "Rêveries & Paranoïa" - part Paranoïa - Lula DAWN
And now, little by little, I reread. I untie, and connect.
Until the dregs I would remain in madness and the more exquisite will be my delirium.
Latent lethargy.
Haunting litany.
Then, like the ticking of time, will come mathematics, algebraic formulas and geometric shapes.
The ticking of time that ticks like something crazy. That is enough. The hunt has begun.
How is it ?
My theory is steaming like tea that is too hot or like his cup which, against a mirror, would have shattered.
Absoutely ! Yes, yes, with loss and crash... But broken or cut off, could the head hold up or will it hold up?
The Queen will decide, at any rate.
ON THE WIRE
"Another tough day today. I fell into daytime sleep and braved the rain, which burned me like hydrochloric acid.
His absence crumbles me.
The memory of Sam breaks me. He tore from me the innocence that remained in my no longer young carcass. I never would have thought it would come to this. It would come to this."
EMMA // LULA
Chapter One: Birth
The first cry. The very first breath. The one that opens wide the lungs, and the floodgates of life.
The great Adventure begins!
I was not able to share the joy of this very first exhalation of air.
Instead, let me take you to the twenty-second day of January nineteen eighty-eight, around eight o'clock. It is the day, or rather the evening, of my birth.
I come into the world, three months before the term, in a state of clinical death.
I'm going to have to check my oxygen. And quick. It takes time. I am still there physically, but inside there is no one. The medical staff must be active, otherwise my life will end for good.
The probe and the oxygen arrive. I hold on. They dose the oxygen, somewhat haphazardly. It was like that at the time. It is this probe, moreover, which will save my life. It even burned the back of my skull, leaving a scar still visible today. It was my very first “mark of life”.
I am unaware of the commotion around me. I do not perceive the sadness, the helplessness of my parents, of my family, in front of this little piece of life stopped. But I fight, it seems. So small and at the same time weak, and strong. I have underdeveloped lungs, and now I'm born with pneumonia.
My birth weight is estimated at one kilo and two hundred grams. Quite big, all the same for a large prema. But all the same, it's not very big… A little roast, as my mum would say. I am connected to pipes through my nose, electrodes are placed on my body. First electrodes, but not the last in my life, but I don't know that yet.
In an incubator and nursery for very premature babies at the American Hospital of Reims, I will spend three months, in this little “basin with pipes” before discovering where I will live, with my Dad, my Mom, my big brother and my big sister. . I don't know them yet, but they know me and love me already, with their purest love.
My arrival in my new home was celebrated with dignity. Many people were there to see me! It seems that we were all impatiently awaiting this encounter between Me and the World. Some time later, when I was in my new life, my mom was on the phone with my aunt and my godfather, and I decided to stop breathing. Again.
Of course I didn't do it knowingly.
I I wasn't aware of it. Who is aware of anything at that age?
Only, I didn't do it just once, (stop breathing) it happened frequently.
With the age and hindsight that I have now, I dare not imagine the anguish of my family.
My family is so strong, so united in this ordeal that I make them go through the simple fact of existing, with my complications. Complications that took a huge place, at the medical level, in the first years of my life. One of my first words? To scan. Truthful.
I don't have the reflex of walking, nor that of grabbing my feet. Something is wrong with me.
This thing that prevents these reflexes, in my case, has a name: "Little's syndrome".
In medical jargon, the Wikipedia site will enlighten you better than me, because I am a writer, and not a doctor…
Spastic diplegia, also known as Little's disease (or syndrome), is a form of infantile cerebral palsy. It is defined by a more or less significant spastic type paralysis of the two lower limbs (mainly hips, legs and pelvis).
The following year, in 1989, these same doctors had finally learned how to dose the oxygen supply, and thus prevent newborns from complications similar to mine. I would tend to say that I had a hard time getting to Earth… But to see it more closely, no. I wouldn't be the person I am now, and that would only be a pale copy of myself, with legs that walk, in step, like my Dad.
Finally, I am delighted! But the army would have tempted me, I confess!
DIVAGATES OF AN AUTHOR,
TRIBULATIONS OF A HANDIMAMOMAN
Ramblings of an Author - Full Moon
Under the light of Lady Moon, and in the darkness of the Sky, I confided in the stars. The most beautiful of them were present, attentive to my stories. I felt their benevolence through my lost sleep.
Calm.
Serenity.
My little Sun is sleeping peacefully, his arms and legs also form a star. No tears, no anguish. Everything is fluid and calm. Even the dog is watching, on the pillow next to mine. Fresh air enters the room through the open window.
Calm.
Serenity.
Rediscover the nocturnal pleasure of writing.
Listen to my feelings, and bring the words out of my mind, to put them here.
Calm.
Serenity.
I listen to the sounds of the city. A dog barks. The tourist music stopped. Cars pass. And despite everything, inside of me everything is only
Calm.
Serenity.
Tribulations of a Handiman - Peter Pan
Since I took down the photos above our love bed, the wall has gone white again. This leaves plenty of time for our young lady to stand up facing the wall and discover… Her Shadow!
What a joke!
Mademoiselle taps the chat to her Shadow as if she were her most faithful friend (which is not wrong, after all!)
*
She reminds me so much of Peter… I find myself there too, the child who refused to grow up. Even being a mom, the part of childhood in me is still there, even at thirty-three.
It is from when, from what age, that one must grow up? Do the responsibilities of adult and mother that I have become have to trample on my dreams and my beliefs as a child?
I like to talk to the stars, I like to hug my cuddly toy before going to sleep or when my spirits aren't there, I like to drink my daughter's bottle when she doesn't finish it, I like to watch cartoons, immersing myself in the magical worlds of the books I read, I love the sweetness of my Alice's innocence, her smell, her laughter, her tiny toes and fingers, her hair which is sometimes messy, sometimes in "first-in-class hairstyle" mode, her curls starting to appear, like her Dad's.
Alice grows, and makes me grow too, evolve. But my candor will always be there. I like the company of children, who always ask a lot of questions and are curious about everything. I love it when they put shitty songs in my head. I like to cry in front of Rox and Rouky, who remind us that abandonment or freedom regained by obligation is something that breaks the heart.
I will never give up. Neither my animals, nor my lover, nor our projects that will soon light up our lives. I will never give up my family and the happiness we have built.
I will never give up my smile in front of my child. She is my sun, my love, my Peter Pan.
I'm not lying, I've been through so much since I came into the world and over the years that I feel like I've lived multiple lives in one, running its course. I still have so much to discover, so much to learn, so much to pass on…
I built myself, I hardened myself in each test that Life sent me. I'm not saying that lightly, there were serious things, you know... Well no, you probably don't know, but... Despite all my childish side, although I seem fragile, hyper sensitive and emotional, well... y also has a fucking warrior, a lioness ready to smash everything for her people.
I'm not a fragile thing in a wheelchair, I'm also a strong woman, with a stupid character who got eaten out twice or three times by the wrong people or because she naively believed in the fine words of men and women she was able to meet.
I hurt myself, I inflicted all sorts of things on my body and my heart, as well as on my mind, which still loses its feet sometimes. But every day that Life does, every day I tell you, I learn. I cash. Sometimes not without difficulty. But I'm moving forward. Stronger and more determined than ever. For me, for the man who shares my life, for our wonderful little girl, this beautiful family, even more perfect than anything I could have dreamed of.
After all, even though Peter didn't want to grow up, he still gave the lost children a home, waiting to meet his Wendy...
My child of mine is not lost, and she never will be. As for my Wendy, she's a White Rabbit. And with its light, I too can finally make my Shadows my friends...