Journal d'artiste,  page 4  "Avec du papier toilette, on n'est jamais dans marde !"

Artist's journal, page 4 "With toilet paper, you're never in trouble!"

“With toilet paper, you’re never in trouble!”

Why do I feel guilty? Yet I worked for seven days straight without sitting down for a second. Maybe I'm having too much fun with my work... Come to think of it, it's probably because I'm afraid of not being at my workshop. Fear of missing interesting people or losing painting sales.

In any case, guilty or not, I'm going to take refuge in Parc du Bic with Nathalie. But not before devouring my mother-in-law's butt bread. It's so good that I don't even need to season it with Nutella.

On the road, I hear a report on the radio that addresses different sexual orientations, or rather rediscovers them. Pansexual, queer, opensexual. Phew! Love has become complicated, and I'm happy to just be Nathsexual.

Right away, it starts in my head... Nathsexual, is it hot enough to be the subject of a television report? I can already see myself in an interview in my workshop, talking about my adolescence, my relationship difficulties, and the times I tried “another sexual name”. From one interview to another, I talk about my sexuality and I take the opportunity to talk about my art, I even talk about it to everyone.

Oops ! I have already arrived at Bic without having noticed the time passing, once again.

As a result of my new notoriety, I get out of the car with a straight back, a full chest and a big smile. Right next to me, a lovely couple unloads all their gear from their car. According to the report, they are heterosexual! They don't recognize me... The woman looks at me strangely. Maybe I shouldn't have waved at him like the Queen. I mixed my fantasy world with reality again. Welcome back to earth, Jean-Pierre.

“With toilet paper, you’re never in trouble!” I got there, I got there.

With the only equipment I have are my round lace shoes that I reattach every kilometer. My first walk of the season at Parc du Bic puts me back as a “normally normal” white man. I come away with magnificent landscapes engraved in my memory, ready to emerge in color on my blank canvases.

On the way back, I discuss with Nathalie the main subject of our conversations as a couple, sex... no! About what we're going to eat for supper! For those who have misplaced ideas, I'm talking about real food here.

At the last minute, I take the exit for Walmart. I hate going there, but they have a way of luring me: the big packages of air-chilled chicken at a reasonable price. The only thing I hate more than Walmart with its cold lighting and incessant noise is radioactive chicken. You know, the one that's injected with bionic water! Its texture to the touch, the broth it releases when cooking, everything disgusts me. Plus, I feel like the companies are making fun of me by selling me this. In short, Walmart's commercial strategy is working too well, we bought too many things, especially toilet paper.

Since it was unplanned and the reusable bags were left in the other car, and if I buy another bag my house will explode like a Dollarama balloon. So I leave the store with the basket full of “loose” products. As I open the trunk of the car, a wave of heat hits my face. This is not the ideal situation to take my chicken a half hour drive. It will arrive half cooked and all gooey.

That's when I had the idea to make a great sandwich. A pack of toilet paper, a row of chicken, and another row of toilet paper to top it all off. Without thinking about the primary function of the product, I declare out loud: “With toilet paper, you’re never in trouble!”

As I write these lines, I realize that I am really far from being Hamlet with his "To be or not to be..."

You have to start somewhere !

Good day !

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