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…
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…
The panic started when the midday deadline came and went and I was nowhere near a computer. What if it didn’t happen today? All day the question plagued me. What if the middle of the week passed and there was no post? What would happen? The world would keep on 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…
So many voices. So many voices inside my head that when I was ten I worried I’d inherited the crazy gene. I had heard the stories about the crazy aunt in Jamaica. I had my own memories of her, so faded I had to squint to remember but the craziness was Read more…