Brave New World by Aldous Huxley 8 min @ Litttle Nicky’s Every morning. Like clockwork. Literally. Maris would rise at five thirty. He used an alarm. Had too, because of the insomnia. But he had to keep consistent or he’d lose his spot. Five thirty five: cold water on the Read more…
My Booky Wook by Russell Brand 8 min @ my desk, Toronto Fuck. Seriously? Every single time… Just once, a break. Please God. The brother had a gimp leg and a curdled smell to his breath. He had cornered her by the big speaker at the corner. The bass shattered through Read more…
I Was Told There Would Be Cake by Sloane Crosley 5 min @ Ideal coffee If only I could remember the time when my stomach didn’t clench and spasm at the thought of milk, the smell of coffee or even cigarettes. Smokes and lattes had been the goddam staples of my Read more…
Where The Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein 5 minutes before bed, Toronto She sat on the cooler, the bubbly sweetness tickling down her throat. The soda wasn’t cold enough yet but it tasted creamier when it wasn’t cold. That’s what she thought but Serena always argued differently. Serena insisted they bury Read more…
Karma: The Ancient Science of Cause and Effect by Jeffrey Armstrong 5 minutes @ my desk, Toronto Trust the nose. Trust the nose. Trust the nose. Said it a million times and probably say it a million more. It didn’t smell sweet and she shouldn’t have eaten it. But Read more…
The Odyssey by Homer 5 min. @ Saving Gigi on Bloor St. W. “So pretty.” Sibilant esses. She was captivated by the darkened line of oxblood red. She watched it form the words as his lips moved. She couldn’t look at his eyes, they were too hooded. Anyway, he wasn’t really Read more…
Overheard and written on the 512 streetcar eastbound He repeated it like a mantra. Over and over he parroted the line a la Travis Bickle. Ben knew he’d only have one chance to say it, Steve Borquist wouldn’t hand anything over if he hesitated, or repeated. He’d think it was Read more…
Crafted on Ossington The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Juno Diaz This was really happening. Her mother was sitting there under the yellow floor lamp she had found over on Rusholme. Sitting cross legged like the yogi she never was. That was the first clue, or should have Read more…