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Ego

Born on March 2, 1959, in Arthabas­ka (Pisces ascen­dant Can­cer for those inter­est­ed), I have lived in Mon­tre­al since 1989. After study­ing in Que­bec City, in var­i­ous fields, includ­ing jour­nal­ism and phi­los­o­phy, I became a typog­ra­ph­er in 1993, a pro­fes­sion that has been trans­formed with the web. I work for a major IT firm. I have pub­lished six books to date : Le Putain (1991), Crev­er mon fils (1994), La Vie dure (1997), L’Effet Casimir (2001), Les Années-rebours (2004) and Falaise (2015).

My back­ground

Strange word as that of course. Ask a writer to embroi­der on it, and his first reflex will be to pro­vide you with the date of his pub­lished books. I don’t pre­tend to be any­thing oth­er than an ordi­nary guy with that salty or sweet point (it’s up to my lovers to say it) that I’m homo­sex­u­al. So I had to mourn a cer­tain stan­dard at first, even if, when you look close­ly, this dif­fer­ence is min­i­mal, as sub­tle as the col­or of the skin.

My lit­er­ary “voice” describes every­day life, and always in the present. I have often been con­front­ed with taboos, with the walls of good man­ners. It seems that we can­not write every­thing down when, in our heads, all the pos­si­ble things go around hap­pi­ly, with or with­out clothes. I am the first to show my hypocrisy to the world since that is how we sur­vive. Any­way, in the choice of my sto­ries and words, I like to reveal the veil on all these king­doms of psy­chol­o­gy. And this is the most bour­geois in the world.

I am said to be full of tal­ents, the voice, the writ­ing, the hands to build and caress. That makes me a handy­man, and there­fore a good-for-noth­ing. So this is my jour­ney. Sim­ply live with, under your fin­gers, the lat­est tech­no­log­i­cal gad­get. A guy, you know. But I don’t like tanks, and I snore a lot.

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