Professional Documents
Culture Documents
In July, 2015, thanks to the initiative of Dr. Bruno Debruille, we got En juillet 2015, grce linitiative du Dr Bruno Debruille, nous
together as a group of people interested in literature and creative ex- nous sommes rassembls comme un groupe de personnes int-
pression as a catharsis from everydays issues. At first, it seemed as resses par la littrature et lexpression crative comme cathar-
if we did not have too much in common: All of our lives had been sis. Au dbut, il semblait que nous navions pas trop en com-
touched by mental illness and we were all interested in writing, read- mun: Toutes nos vies avaient t touchs par la maladie mentale et
ing and debating ideas. We were just strangers with some common nous tions tous intresss par lcriture, la lecture et la discussion
interests. dides. Nous ntions que des inconnus avec des intrts communs.
From July 2015 to September 2016, we gathered month- De juillet 2015 septembre 2016, nous nous sommes runis
ly around a table at The Wellington Center. In each of our ses- mensuellement autour dune table au Centre Wellington. chaque ses-
sions, we brought pieces of our writing to share and discuss sion, nous avons apports des textes pour les partager et discuter avec
with the group. Each text was a small window to its writers inner le groupe. Chaque pice dcriture tait une petite fentre au monde
world. Interesting discussions and personal confessions would fol- intrieur de son auteur. Des discussions intressantes et des confes-
low. By sharing the ideas and emotions elicited by others texts, sions personnelles suivaient la lecture. travers des ides et des
we built a powerful empathy machine: in each meeting, we have motions suscites par les textes des autres, nous avons construit une
found relief and inspiration in our words and the words of others. puissante machine dempathie: chaque runion, nous avons trouv
Since we started to meet, our lives have kept transforming, sometimes for du soulagement et de linspiration dans nos mots et les mots des autres.
better and sometimes for worse. I would like to believe that, despite the Depuis que nous avons commenc ce club, nos vies ont chang par-
adversities and changes we might have gone through, being part of The fois pour le meilleur et parfois pour le pire. Je veux croire que, mal-
Writers Club has been a common guiding thread in the lives of its members. gr les adversits et les changements que nous avons vcu, faire partie
Our first medium term goal was to work during one year and ac- du Club des crivains a t un fil conducteur commun dans nos vies.
cumulate enough material to assembly a small literary anthol- Notre premier objectif tait de travailler pendant un an et accumuler
ogy. We have arrived to this point: It has been more than one year suffisamment de matriel pour assembler une petite anthologie. Nous
of sharing stories, ideas, joys and pains and this collection is a sommes arrivs ce point: Aprs une anne de partager des histoires,
simple of what we have lived during our meetings this last year. des ides, des joies et des douleurs, on imprime ce recueil comme
Finally, I would like to dedcate this common effort to Karl chantillon de ce que nous avons vcu pendant nous runions.
Fontaine, a close friend, poet, painter and member of The Writers Pour en finir, je voudrais ddier cet effort commun la m-
Club who left us for good two months ago. I am sure that those who moire de Karl Fontaine, ami proche, pote, artiste-peintre et membre
met him will always remember his brilliant discourse full of metaphors du Club des crivains qui nous a quitts il y a deux mois. Je suis sr
as explosive as his laughter. que ceux qui lont rencontr se souviendront toujours de son brillant
discours plein de mtaphores aussi explosives que son rire.
VI The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Fernanda Prez Gay Jurez Who Are We?/Qui sommes nous ? VII
Karl once gave me this piece of advice: Never drop your pen. Avant de partir, Karl ma donn ce conseil: Ne laissez jamais
Write, just write. Do not care for now who is going to read you: Take tomber ton stylo. Il faut crire ! Ne te proccupes pas pour linstant de
a typewriter and turn that blue vertigo of the world into magic. Karls qui va te lire. Prends ta machine crire et utilise-la pour tourner ce
words still resonate in my mind. I hope that, through this small book, vertige bleu du monde en magie . Ses paroles rsonnent encore dans
his wise counsel will also echo in the minds of all its writers and read- mon esprit. Jespre que, grce ce petit livre, ses sages conseils feront
ers. galement cho dans lesprit de ses crivains et ses lecteurs.
References
Coleman, G. (2008). The Politics of Rationality: Psychiatric
Survivors Challenge to Psychiatry. In Kavita P., de Costa,
B. (Eds.), Tactical Biopolitics. Cambridge: MIT Press.
Glasby, J., Beresford, P. (2006). Who knows best? Evidence-based
practice and the service user contribution. Critical Social Policy,
26(1): 268-284.
8 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Bertrand Poupart Sortir ce soir 9
only one of me, and I got the feeling that they knew usthey knew
the city. They saw us with our blinkers on, living our narrow little lives
down our narrow little streets. But we knew nothing about them. They
were an unknown. I hadnt the heart the heart to tell him that, so there
The Flower Sellers I was, wandering down the portside searching for sunflowers in late
by Michael Menezes October.
It was remarkably easy to find, actually; it stood out among the
I guess I didnt know what to tell him at that point. What do you even thirty odd flower shops beside it like... a flower in a field. It felt some-
say in a situation like that? Do you tell him its over? That its done? how brighter, more vivid than its surroundings, as if the edge of every
Tell him to go out and gather some nice framed photographs and start petal of every perfectly arranged bouquet was individually singing into
preparing for the closed casket funeral? Because at this pointand the the dull, flickering lamplight. So I walked towards it. She was, she was
red-faced, breathless gentleman before me knew as well as Ithat boy lovely. She had flowers in her hair and a smile that played upon her lips
was long gone and lost to the world, stowed away under a trap door in like a musical instrument like a harp or a and I I mean itd
one of three to four hundred gypsy boat houses anchored along the been a while since Id last slept now that I thought about it, and maybe
southern port. Somewhere in that floating city, the boy, his son, was that was it. Maybe that was what was blurring everything, melding it
alive sure, but lost lost so far beyond finding.... all into a wave of bright and hazy colour and music. But I saw through
But he wouldnt have it. It was the flower sellers! he thundered it all, I realized even then that something was that something was
for the hundredth time. The flower sellers, he repeated quietly after a strange about this. My senses may have been swimming but my mind
long, stuttering breath. Theydjust listen to me, he insisted, he and was still as keen... as a tack and I asked her about the boy and I
his son had stopped by the portside market to pick up flowers for his followed her into the boats, through the thick, pearly curtain of salt-
wifes birthday. This was a grimy grey harbour town, you see, perched stained sails and into the floating city.
on an island. It was a centre for trade and nothing else. So grains, fruits, They were singing and dancing and feasting, makeshift stoves
produce or livestock of any kindwell that was all shipped in from at every other deck and great big cauldrons of aromatic soups and
fields and farms on the mainland. But herbs and teas, charms and trin- stews wafting perfumed poetry into the evening air. In every whirling
kets, and flowerswere peddled exclusively by the boat dwellers. They head of hair, a flower. Around every wrist a charm, a golden bangle, a
came in from the eastor no one really knew where they came from, coloured handkerchief. She had a seashell bracelet around her own; I
except that they were here, here en masse, and here to stay. He was saw it as she led me through the labyrinth by the arm, through a wind-
tired that day he said. Sleepy. And the girl who was manning the shop, ing maze of sails and sunburnt, smiling faces, with the lamplight danc-
she was she was very pretty, he added slowly. Hed turned his back ing off her dark, twisting auburn braids like a will o wisp in a mindless
for an instant to purchase a charming, golden bouquet at the only stand fog, for she was the brightest thing of all here. She led me to himthe
for miles stocking sunflowers in this fallalmost winterseason and boy: brown hair, green eyes, grey waistcoat and slacks. I clasped my
in that brief instant, the boy was gone. It was the flower sellers. hands around his wrist. He was seated at a stove. There were flowers
I hadnt the heart to tell him, I guess. You put on airs. You tell in his hair. There was a charm around his wrist. The shadow and the
yourself, you tell the world that life as a private investigator in a dark firelight crept about his features, swaying to the dull and heavy drum
and dingy, back alley city hardens you, but all it takes is a single missing beats calling out from two boats away. I asked if he was William, and
child, a single desperate, quivering, tearstained face, and youre making he said he didnt know. I told him that his father was searching for him.
decisions thatwell theyre questionable at best. You see, they scared He said he didnt want to stay, but also, he paused, that he didnt want
methe boat dwellers. There were thousands of them, and there was to leave. I didnt understand.
12 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Natalie Sguin Chanson 13
notions de conscience.
Ce nest pas amusant vraiment, ni gratifiant. La distance avec le
rl que cause les pertes de contrle et de sens drive en une maladie et
la folie la longue.
Les rves du promeneur solitaire La rverie chez Rousseau qui rgit ce vagabondage de lesprit
(fragments) est labsence de liens psychiques et affectifs. (Il ne se dit plus soumis
limpratif moral de lexamen de conscience).
par Nathalie Sguin Ne plus se sentir soumis la morale, ni lexamen de conscience
dans son cas, pour vrifier et juger si les penses sont tangibles avec le
Rousseau rel dans lendroit o il se trouve et si elles sont positives et efficaces
comme outil de progression et datteintes de nos objectifs de vie ; cest
Les rveries du promeneur solitaire tomber dans un panneau darrt de penses, de dsquilibre et la perte
sont des bribes dexistence dont lintensit de lucidit assure.
sera fixe par lcriture. Lorsque lesprit est dans cet tat dapesanteur, la folie guette.
Cest ce travail de recomposition Ainsi, Jean-Jacques retrouve un contact pur et innocent tel qu
du pass que Rousseau appelle Rverie. son jeune ge. Cest dpass les limites que de regresser constamment
et dun ridicule abhrant.
*** terme, la rverie exprime la dgustation dun bonheur bien
(mrit) ?!
La rverie me dlasse et mamuse, Et la puret que les autres ne pourront latteindre, ni le dfaire
la rflexion me fatigue et mattriste quimporte la manire prise.
penser fut toujours pour moi Ce nest plus une question de carapace quand on est dans un
une occupation pnible et sans charme tel tat, ce sont des traits de caractre et de personnalit difficile et cest
maladif.
Quelques fois mes rveries finissent Rousseau va donc mler les poques dans un prsent quil veut
par la mditation ternel.
mais plus souvent Quel high !
mes mditations finissent par la rverie. Il adopte une attitude et un comportement diffrents des
normes individuelles et sociales, surtout.
*** Jean-Jacques Rousseau nest pas ce quon pourrait appeler un
tre fonctionnel pour lui-mme comme pour la socit et il a du nar-
Vous est-il dj arriv de vous assoupir dans un fauteuil bien confor- cissisme revendre. Tout ceci du un manque total dingrence mo-
tablement et de vous laisser envahir par la dtente et le sommeil ? Si tionnelle. Ses besoins ne sont jamais assouvis et ses passages sont trs
votre rponse est positive ; il est probable que la rverie soit agrable intenses.
et bienfaisante. Cest un tre isol et renferm dans sa bulle. Il ne devait pas
Dans le cas de Rousseau, ces mditations qui lamnent rvas- avoir dami(s) pour dialoguer. Quel tat mlancolique, il doit vivre
ser sont si nombreuses et dnivels quil en perd le sens du rel. Cest lextrme, par moments.
un jeu trs dangereux quand il ny a pas de contrle et quil en perd des Cette qute intimiste du bonheur na-t-elle pas de fin ?
18 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Natalie Sguin Les rves... 19
mand. Wed fallen into taking the darkest hours of the night under our
watch, during which time he would regale me with stories of Keplers
Laws of Planetary Motion or Mesmers Animal Magnetism, for which
the maddening, hovering mists were more an eerie backdrop than any
The Horizon agent of our undoing.
by Michael Menezes Yes, it was during that sixth hour, as we spoke of St Augustines
Journey of the Soul that the mists, they thinned at last, and not a half
Until then, at least from my quarters at the stern of our vessel, the RLS a league ahead of us- it was a mountain, it was a great craggy yawning
Horizon Catcher, and from really every which way, from every angle monolith that rose up from the ocean surface like the rocky maw of
on deck and in the crows nest and in every cabin porthole, the sea: it God. We stood in silence for many minutes, each wordlessly daring the
stretched on endlessly, smothering the eye for as far as could be fath- other to speak, to acknowledge it, to fall to their knees and cry into the
omed. Wed been at sea two months now. Three if you include the first air in praise.
few weeks collecting supplies from ports along the West African Coast. It was I who finally spoke. I asked him if he indeed saw what
Two months then, since myself or any other living soul aboard I saw, and what he made of it, and would he run down into the cabins
the Big Dipper, for that was what the men had taken to calling it in their and alert the men and set a course, and unfurl the damn sails himself
song and in their reverie below the decks; the joke was that any coming if he had to and- Sir, he said. Perhaps, sir, if I would calm myself for
day now, the Horizon Catcher would up and do just that: wed catch the a moment, the rock, the monolith, he said, its plateau was at least two
horizon. Wed dip, bow down, stern up, down a long, endless waterfall, hundred or more feet from the ocean surface below, and we had not
down over the edge of the world. Believe me, if wed encountered any nearly enough rope nor provisions to make such a climb. Perhaps, he
sign of it, any whirlpool, any maelstrom or great thundering gale, any said, the rock might prove to be just that: a singular, though awesome
sirens on the rocks, leviathans, krakens or winged, looming monsters protrusion on all four sides without a shore for us to make a landing.
of death, youd have before yourselves a long and very detailed account Perhaps the men, if they were to wake, would not hear reason as I
of it. did- they would mutiny, tear down at the rigging in a frenzy, in a mass
No, all wed seen for two months now on every side of us was hysteria to climb to reach Perhaps the plateau of the monolith
miles and miles, leagues and leagues of calm, unending sea. I hadnt might seem to them the surface of the sea, and ourselves, our vessel,
come to crave the land so much as I- craved anything, anything at all. two hundred feet below, and drowning.
Two months or so, two months and eleven days it was, we en- I steadied myself. He made a good point, William Wright. Per-
countered the mist. Dense. Impenetrable. Like a thick white curtain in haps, natural philosophy aside, His Majestys Service could make a cap-
a high society parlour. Spotless. We passed two nights and three days tain of him yet. I sent him down into the cabins to retrieve four of our
unable to see any further than a single ships length ahead in any direc- most seasoned sailors of whose state of mind and sanity he could be
tion. On the sixth hour of the third night, it was I and the first mate, sure. The six of us on deck, we plotted a course toward the monolith
William Wright, up on the bow of the Dipper taking watch as had be- and around it.
come our custom. You see, no man could stay on deck any longer than And as we drew closer to rock, again it was William who saw it
a few, fleeting hours now before hed slowly descend into madness, first. Around the base of the monolith what we thought had been a
snow blind from the fog, and it was especially so during the nights. reef it was rope. It was miles and miles and miles of tangled, knot-
William was a strange lad indeed; hed taken up the seafaring ted rope, floating smiling and serenely in the gently, swaying ocean
profession in the hope of financing a life of scholarship in natural currents. And drawing into view around the corner, around the hidden
philosophy- a far cry from the drunken, whoring rabble under his com- eastern edge of the rock, we saw the graveyard. Scores, hundreds of
22 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Mathieu Bouchard Toxicomanie 23
vessels moored against the face of its cliff, each in pristine condition,
unscathed, having floated in the breathless waters for eternities. Old
crafts, with dragon figureheads, and unmanned oars protruding from
their hulls and sides, and some, strange sail-less and unnatural behe-
moths, clad in iron and in stone yet floating still, unmoving, empty.
Again I was the first to speak. William, I said, plot a course
south. Away, get us away, man! Turn the wheel! I ran, II stumbled
down, across the Dippers godless deck and over to the stern. The
wheel! South! Away!
That night we swore that to no man but the King should we
ever breathe a word about that lone, accursed rock in the heart of the
Pacific. Many brave vessels, many captains, many crews have set out
since to find the rock, to find the monolith of which we spoke unto
His Majestys pale regal lips, and to his courtiers condescending glow-
ers.
To my knowledge, two of these vessels have returned, report-
ing not to have encountered any such expanse of mist, or looming
monolith. The other seven Perhaps at the horizon, at the edge of
the world, it is not the waters of the sea that fall, that dip down into the
void. Perhaps it is the sanity of men that slows that moors itself by
the cliffs and floats in still, in tranquil waters by the monolith for all of
time
24 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Karl Fontaine Being Sober 25
Les nuages noirs sont partis et ont fait place au soleil; que je regarde
en biais afin de lapprcier sans my aveugler. Douce brise du matin.
Tranquillement, sinstalle en moi une confiance sereine en un avenir
dont je ne sais rien. Je ne sens plus le besoin de voler vers le soleil, de
Sabotage my bruler les ailes. Dsormais, sentir la douce caresse du soleil sur ma
par Mathieu Bouchard joue me satisfait.
Libr de la tyrannie du quotidien.
Politique de la terre brle. Maintenant, changer le monde, un jour la fois.
Jai construit une maison, qui tait belle au got des autres,
dans le but de my loger et dy vivre une vie respectable, une vie con-
forme; une vie soumise, une vie range. Faire plaisir aux autres pour
se sentir accept, valoris, approuv, normal. Renoncer ses passions,
rprimer ses instincts, mourir de lintrieur, steindre petit feu. 9 6
The Hour as it Fades
au bureau, payer lhypothque et les comptes, aller au gym rgulire- by Matthew Peters
ment. Obligations de toutes sortes pour satisfaire aux attentes; pour
tre quelquun de bien, comme ils disent. The faded book covers stand
La tyrannie du quotidien. by the old magazines
Mlancolie du soir, parce demain matin une nouvelle journe near where the dogs sleep,
commence, sans doute aussi morne, grise et froide que les prcdentes.
Vertige du dimanche soir, parce que demain matin une nouvelle semaine the decks stretch around three sides
commence, faite de cinq jours sans doute aussi mornes, gris et froids and with nine
que les prcdents. Un scotch, puis un deuxime. Ma guitare devant is where we eat, sit, and talk;
moi, qui ramasse la poussire, parce que je nai plus lenvie dy jouer.
Puis un jour, je dploie mes ailes, pour voler vers le ciel. Je the talk is short, in bursts,
monte, toujours plus haut, jusquau soleil, pour my brler les ailes. largely what is needed,
La tempte souffle, se rapproche dangereusement. Je pilote au radar some thats appreciated,
travers les nuages noirs, magntiques, lourds et effrayants. Insomnie,
panique, dsespoir. Les inquitudes tourbillonnent dans ma tte, toujo- but with the ocean just below
urs plus vite, toujours plus fort. Je vole vers le ciel. Je monte, toujours we listen to it lapping
plus haut, jusquau soleil, pour my brler les ailes. Je traverse les nuages and watch the suns trajectory,
noirs, japproche enfin le soleil. Puis arrive le moment tant souhait:
je touche le soleil et je my brle les ailes. Chute vertigineuse; boucle over and between the trees,
pique; dmolition annonce. which tells us all we need to know
Limpact au sol est brutal. of the hour as it fades.
Dfinitif.
Je me relve, dmoli et soulag. Enfin, jai tout sabot. Je suis
maintenant libre. Enfin libre. Radicalement libre. Je me suis vad de la
prison dans laquelle je mtais enferme. Libre. Libre de me rinventer.
28 The Writers Club / Le club des crivains Tony L. Strangers Eye 29
public, the people surrounding you cannot see the other side of you
when youre with your friends. It is thus a secret, a mystery. And when
youre with your friends, you cant see the way they are with strangers.
This is why, when I saw my friends frustrated driving, I had that strange
The strangers eye feeling, finally explained 15 years later.
by Tony L.
Life is absurd, but amazing at the same time. Life
is ultimately meaningless. but is also the most pre-
cious thing in the universe. Stop living in the con-
fusing cobwebs of the gray area and realize that
its both white and black at the same time, while
taking advantage of the fact that humans are de-
signed to be happy, and just let it happen.
Alimentation Bric--brac
par Bertrand Poupart par Karl Fontaine
Super march, Bric--brac,
lensemble visuel de la nourriture barraque
qui fout le trac,
Lemballage me renverse
et ce qui nest pas emball. glantine et vers de soie
Premire approche en vitrine ou sur les alles. qui me pique et me lisse,
Dvelopper le gout de femme enceinte, me peigne les cheveux
bien photographier la marchandise pour un meilleur rsultat dans sa et jeton
cuisine de ce parchsy qui se croise
bien lire les dates dexpiration. au mouchoir dune hirondelle,
Bidule et pendule
Vric, Vroc!
le Pantoche,
une gazelle bondit
sur le nuage zebr du temps,
pouls cardiaque dune grenouille
tandis que la fourmi cri:
Tout le monde
Au bain!.
Table of Contents