November 12, 2008

Me so sorry

I'll be typing up an awesome recap of my Halloween and autumn soon but I've not had the time to do anything lately. (So busy) I do have a story to share now (sorta late) that my ideals have changed. I'm having amazing adventures with coincidinkies. I do still believe what's wrote, let's just say the beet has found its juices though.

(last month's post)

Today I've got a story to tell. It came to me as I stood in the wind, my fingers crippling to the cold... Here it goes, pretend I'm a storyteller:

Deep into the forest, where the sun comes in like thin golden dust, beyond where any man has ever set foot, there strived a world of it’s own. In this world, prejudice ran wild, and opinions were made by the judgment of the hierarchy. Birds flying by do not dare to enter this meadow for fear of being alienated. Little rodents, seeking the shady corners of the forest for a crunchy snack, quickly turn around when they make contact with these repulsive creatures.

The creatures were twisted in all different shapes and sizes, with a deep scarlet tint in their faces. They owned no hands or eyes, only a little tiny pair of legs and an odd mouth, often big enough to snarl at as many other peasants possible at once.

Why am I being so obvious!?

Participant of the civilization was a true outcast. One of them, only he resided in a prison made of glass. One day he had fallen from the sky down in the meadow, in his container. He tried so hard to fit in but rolling around the rugged rug of the forest in a jar was not effortless. He was always late at the pretentiality meetings and his opinions could never be heard. He started to have very different ideals then everyone else, since he had known what being apart of the norm was, and so he tried running away, to find someone like him.

On his journey out in the forest he met nomadic gremlins, but they didn’t have anything to do with him, they couldn’t even speak his tongue. He found a few rodents scattering, thinking they could understand him. He rolled quickly towards them, but they discarded him. They didn’t want anything to do with any of his kind. He hopelessly wandered the forest, meeting up with a man made path and following it, wherever it went.

He kept walking, even though it had been weeks his jar had fallen in a fissure in the road and he moved forward no longer. When his energy was completely seeped out and he was swimming in his purple sweat and tears he finally let go, and floated lifelessly in his jar.

One day after, he had heard horses coming in the distance, would they want to speak with him, probably not. The horses seemed to have stopped just beside him and a glimmer of depression stabbed him. Something removed the weeds that were growing on his lid, and then held him up. A human was looking at him, interested. The poor guy tried to speak but he couldn’t speak. His impowerness grew him angry. The man put the poor guy in his chariot, but he didn’t want to go anywhere, he wanted to be left alone. He started bashing at the glass with his body and feet. He fell asleep, a great big hit to the head, failing to break the material. And he awoke in a dark lit place. Beside him was another jar. Excitement arose inside of him like never before. He started to scream, joyfully mumble in his juices. In the other jar was a long green woman, warts all over her body, he was screaming too, smiling with her eyes. Finally what they both had longed for was there right beside each other, and they lived happily ever after… Until the man ate them of course…

October 13, 2008

Procrastination's in my nature

Procrastination Station. I opened my Blog not too long ago and already I find myself procrastinating to write. I've so much to say only I hate to force the words out of me. Also, I have many things planned out and yet I never take the time to sit down and type them.

Anyways, I've not let down my Blog, pick a peek at times, you might find a treasure most unexpected...

La Station Procrastination. J'ai ouvert mon Blog y'à pas longtemps et déja je me trouve entrain de procrastiner à écrire. J'ai plein de choses à dire mais je déteste forcer les mots à sortir de ma tête. Et puis, j'ai plein de choses planifié mais je ne prend jamais le temps de m'assoire et de les taper sur l'ordinateur.

En tout cas, je n'abandonne pas mon blog, prenez-y un coup d'oeil de temps en temps, vous y trouverez peut-être un trésor inattendu...

October 11, 2008

Shakespeare is overrated?

From October 8 to 10 I had gone on a trip with school. Myself and a few friends had gone to a theatre festival, 7 hours from home. The festival took place in a little town in Ontario. Stratford it was called. I must say, it was beautiful! Old victorian styled houses with pumpkins and halloween decorations and a main street like in Tim Burton movies.
There we saw 2 musicals and 2 Shakespeare plays.

 Shakespeare... I don't like him much. I can see how he was revolutionary but with all that we can read nowadays he really blends into the crowd, I guess it's why I'm bothered when we excessively study him. I do thank him for what he's done to literature but I'm not interested in looking his way. Well actually it may be Romeo and Juliette's fault. I never liked the
 story, and the fact that every single year of my highschool life we have studied it sorta pulled yarn over my eyes, making me believe Shakespeare was only boring. But other than Romeo and Juliette we also saw Ceaser and Cleopatra which was just succulent. I wish I could  see it over again, it was just beautiful, although the theatre did smell of stinky feet which was disconcentrating.

The last day we went to one of the worlds largest 
costume warehouses, where we weren't allowed to touch the costumes with our oily fingers and there were huge fire proof warehouses. There were amazingly built props, and in the end we had a tiny selection of costumes to wear. (Sadly, there was nothing I was really excited to wear. No peasents clothes of the colonisation years...)

Last thing we did was see the play Cabaret. What a shocking and beautiful play. I went to see scenes from the movie after and wow is it nothing compared to the version I saw. Oh how I wish I was there still. 

Wow there was nothing really inciteful in this post... must I be inciteful? I hope you guys are just... interested...

The famous swans of Stratford...

October 2, 2008

My Teacher Asked Me "Franky What's Wrong With You Today?" / "François, ça va?"

While I nibble on this pack of Rockets candy I can't stop thinking of what marvel has just fallen upon my home, my me, this day. This morning I woke up, I felt sick and tired of school and this busy life. My feelings of annoyance tumbled around my mind until simply, they vanished, the moment I took my step outside. The shortest walk, just the walk to my dad's car in the driveway and the smell of cold air and drowsy trees brought me back to life, instantly. It seems the year had been desaturating me and here it is, Autumn, the season I devoted my blog to. The season, the muse to the many good qualities in me, and the rather mysterious perspective I have of life. 

I have an odd belief that the ones who despise this rejuvenating season, and/or the ones who are able to commit suicide in such a soul pickling time never truly saw beyond the dying leaves and cold winds. The melancholia radiated from the season of the dead is a good feeling to me rather than a bad one. Don't you love to sit quietly, listen to the trees ruffle in the wind, watching them swintelfink? Why not love the idea of laying in the grass, letting the leaves fall onto our faces, and as we lay there we leave our shadows on the ground just before we finally disappear again? Finally my leaves have started to fall again, the burden is lesser. 

I'd love to tell you more but I've finished my Rockets and tonight the poetry has already stopped flowing. I wish you knew exactly how I felt. You do know? Maybe a new friend is at hand... 

Je me mets a rêver, le jardin d'éden s'amène a moi, une petite pluie et une odeur de bois. Je ne vais pas traduire le texte au dessus, mais je veut que tout le monde sache à quelle point l'automne m'enchante, et à quelle point il est important dans ma vie! 

September 30, 2008

Goodmorning/Bon Matin

It's not morning at all. It's 7:36PM. I decided to make this the name of my first post as my salutation to this world of bloggers. This should be the first post to a journey I'm waking right now to embark on. My name is François Latreille, I applaud my parents for baptising me such a way. I was born in August, and am a Leo. It's strange how I'm am not quite superstitious but my numerology results and my horoscope, and most things about me just coincide. It's rather magical. Justly, I want to make my experience on this blog magical, it's my goal to explore and conquer the important sides of my eternal me. I have so much to say and no one to share it with. You'll be quite surprised of the discovery you've made that is me I sure hope. Stick around won't you, listen to my stories... 

Il n'est pas matin du tout. Il est 19:36. J'ai décider de nommer ma première entrée, Bon Matin, comme salutation à ce monde de bloggeurs. Ceci devrait être ma première entrée sur lequel je m'éveille pour embarquer sur une grande aventure. Mon nom est François Latreille, et j'applaudit mes parents de m'avoir baptiser un tel. Je suis né en Août, et je suis un Léo. C'est étrange que je ne suis pas vraiment superstitieux mais que mes résultats de numérologie et que mon horoscope, et que la plupart des choses à propos de moi font que coïncider. C'est plutôt magique. Justement, je veut rendre mon expérience sur ce blogue, magique. C'est mon but, d'explorer et de conquérir les morceaux importants de l'éternel moi. J'ai plein de choses à dire et personne avec qui les partager. Vous allez être surpris de la découverte dont vous venez de faire j'espère. Alors restez bien proches voulez vous? Écoutez mes histoires...