This blog was born in french during autumn 2003 and is now progressively being translated in your language.
New articles will therefore appear on a regular basis.
... my apologies to the people who hadn't understood this yet, all articles on this website are created and written by myself (his dad).
Lou is currently unable to do it,, just like he is to this day unable to grasp the concept of a "computer", "internet", or to focus for a long period of time on a conversation. Only time will tell us if we manage to integrate him completely in the world in which he lives.
Therefore all stories, despite relating actual facts, are obviously biased by my interpretation of his behavior. But having known him for over five years, I don't think I'm getting it wrong.
Thank you to the "Roi Baudoin" foundation ( "Parcours hors pistes" ). The new design, hosting and translations were partially made possible by their financial support.
Many thanks to Marco Pappalardo et Laetitia Bouet for the translation.
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thursday 31 march 2005
77. Clarification ! (by Lou's dad)
I've received the following message about my blog : Hello, I just found out about your blog which I thought was very moving. It is filled with humanity, and most likely sincerity. I have no means of knowing whether what I've read is true but you present it as such. Having said that, if Lou really does exist, I'm not sure all this is really any good for him.
Therefore it seemed important to me that I answer and publicly explain my position. Here is my reply :
To help me find out about animal sounds, daddy and mommy buy me birdcalls and decoys on a regular basis. It all started with an old birdcall imitating a duck which daddy had bought to attract ducks while
shooting a movie ! I was hooked right away, except I would blow so hard that the thin sheets would eventually become twisted. My parents kept telling me to blow softly, but I was having too much fun generating incredible sounds until the whistle would blow no more. You can imagine the fits of anger that ensued ... to the point that I used the birdcall for a "weight toss" and it broke down. Since then I've cooled down. Mommy bought another duck-birdcall (which is also almost done for), but she also got pigeon, wren, cuckoo ... and yesterday wild boar ! (or ashtray as I called it yesterday [ in french wild board - sanglier - and ashtray - cendrier - are pronounced in a similar manner ]. I have a feeling this one is gonna help me break decibel records.
Ok I won't be reading braille any time soon (maybe even never, given my "mental confusion"), but, for years, I've been reading books occasionally (mostly with mommy). From day one she has looked for tactile books available for all children ( such as : baby mouse who needs help finding his mommy back (and her long tail), and meets a whole lot of other animals, whose (fake) skin you can touch. Unfortunately there aren't a lot of books like that.
Good thing the school has a play area and books. Even better, there is a publishing house (in France), "LES DOIGTS QUI REVENT" (the fingers that dream), who is doing wonderful books with the means at their disposal. Every book is hand made and sold at a price which is reasonable (about 20 euros / 25 dollars) and most of all ridiculous compared with the work they do. And that's how, thanks to them, I was able to touch the house of each little pig, feel the wolf in the cauldron, compare, just like Goldilocks, the chairs, the bowls and the beds of papa bear, mama bear, and baby bear. Even though I used to not like it too much (but you already know that if you're a fan), I don't like "touching", nowadays I almost enjoy it !
The contact information and website of the "fingers that dream" : Les Doigts Qui RÍvent 11 bis, rue de Novalles - F21240 TALANT Phone : 33 (0)3 80 59 22 88 - Fax: 33 (0)3 80 59 22 79 Email : firstname.lastname@example.org Their website : Click here !
74. Chronicles of the passing time (3) What a week-end !
While mommy and daddy were indulging themselves at the Grand Hotel in Cabourg (no less ! Well yeah, they had won a trip in a benefit tombola for "Reporters Sans Frontieres" during the Caubourg film festival), I had a total blast.
This week-end I'll be at Grandpa's and Grandma's ( the picture - you can see he's quite a character as well !). Mommy and daddy are sending everybody away for a while to get their breath back in private...
To conclude this long chapter, I should also tell you about what and how I eat. Because for
a blind man, it's a long and difficult learning process. First of all, about sandwhiches, they are delivered to me pre-cut and crustless. I don't like the crust, it's hard ! Similarly, for warm meals, everything must be mixed up and without any lumps. They're scary when they get in the mouth ! And then of course for the time being I need to be hand fed with a spoon. Mommy and daddy are slowly teaching me to thrust the spoon into the plate by myself, so I can start eating like a big person. "Youp!" is the codeword for that. One day, maybe, I will be able to eat on my own, to cut my own meat. Daddy and mommy have learned how to do it, how to guide me. But it's still a bit too complicated for me.
Anyway, the tough part will be accepting to eat with anybody else than my parents or my grand-parents !
(continued - and that's not all) Meal time is the moment I prefer to play with words and my memory : I ask my feeder to do "the countries", "the Papuans", "the days of the week" (coming soon !), in short, to talk to me. And then, to be thorough, there's the elephant Mommmy and Daddy got me for my 4th birthday : a soft toy that repeats everything it hears. The point of the game being to get angry at the elephant for repeating everything I say. Laughing guaranteed ! Also, I love it when daddy fools around at the dinner table and starts giving me silly answers when I ask him the name of the inhabitants of Papua. He says "the Papunasians!" I burst into laughter. "Wrooooong!" Daddy : "The Peepeenusians ?" Me : "The Paypaynesians" - laughter - (all the pictures of my meal are taken from one of those Homeric breakfasts)
Seven months ago, daddy tried yet another approach to finally make me accept eating with him. It was a crisis day. He could hear me yell at mommy. He came downstairs and managed to calm me down. He then stayed next to mommy during the whole meal. The next day he did it again, and the cheater took advantage of my blindness to give me the spoon instead of mommy. As soon as I realized what was going on I put a stop to it. But the "harm" was done, especially since he made laugh with his silliness. And that's how,
day after day, I ended up accepting to eat with daddy... to the point that, sometimes, I reverse the block : I want daddy to eat ! (to be continued)
(continued) Therefore nowadays I take two meals a day (except on week-ends when daddy and mommy are there for lunch. Indeed!). So on mornings I take a huge breakfast (six to ten slices of bread) - well yeah I have to stock up - and after school I move straight on to the gargantuan series : the warm meal - the snack (fruit) and finally sandwiches ( four to eight slices ). Duration of the feast : an hour. You should also know I've tuned my meals to specific songs and stories on my little recorder. No way I'll eat without either "Garacroc", or "daddy's tape" (where he tells me stories), or even "Goldilocks" (etc). And to that should be added in the background, on the stereo, to my convenience : "The aristocats", Vincent Delerme, Tom Novembre, Serge Gainsbourg, Muse, Archive, The Strokes", Henry Des (etc - see article about my collection of records
). Having said that, I did notice my parents are putting a brake on this plethora of ambient sounds ( because on top of it, some evenings or on week-end mornings, you should add Eva trying to watch her cartoons on tv. Daddy simply gave up on listening to the news on the radio during those moments ) Anyway, nowadays they make me choose between a CD or a tape. And I'm beginning to swallow it. (to be continued)
My meals are a whole different story. It originally goes back to when I was about two and a half years old : three days without mommy. She had left to attend a training workshop for her job. So I found myself alone with daddy. It wasn't the first time, but that one time, I didn't swallow it. In conclusion : three days of complete hunger strike. Just enough to throw my distress back at daddy. Talk about stress with a boomerang effect. As retaliation, from then on, it became out of the question that anybody but mommy should feed
me, except for breakfast and nanny (go figure ...). And since I attend school, I chose to skip lunch. (to be continued)
Every day daddy walks the dog and buys his newspaper before driving the "wee ones" to school (as he says). But on week-ends, since we have time, I sometimes join him. We both walk up the street until the store (well the three of us including Mega). I like the newspaper store because there is a fridge near the counter that makes a "buzzzzz" sound. I like the sound (and the warmth or coolness) of fridges. At school too, there is a drink vending machine at the entrance. Me and daddy even play on words when we pass in front of it : the coke machine becomes the kiki michine, the caca machane, the coocoo moochoone, the coin coin machoine, the keekee meecheene, and so on... We basically have fun ! But going back to the newspaper store, I enjoy those moments so much, the owners being so nice to me, that I turned them into a question I constantly ask my daddy : " Daddy, do you like the newspaper store ?". To which he better reply with a complete sentence ! ("Yes, I like the newspaper store") because then, while usually standing in front of the couch, I throw myself backwards at the sound of the word "newspaper". This is a good example of my numerous "fads" or repetitive games which I often abuse, so often that sometimes daddy makes me move on to something else.