White Terrorists

A few days ago, a twenty-one-year-old white male named Kane Kosolowsky set off two bombs in the basement of a Sherwood Park community centre. He was found in his car, suffering from a gunshot wound, from which he later died. The RCMP has indicated that the blasts weren’t related to a group or ideology, and that’s led to coverage like this…

Sweaty Guy

I have one more shift, and then finally, after sixteen straight days of work with only two Sundays off, I can be free. There’s real poison in the ice cream now, and it’s in every bite. Even if my bite is as sweet as can be, someone at the table beside me is choking. It’s a stressful way to spend my days, and it does a real disservice to the headspace available, but hey—I suppose that’s work for everyone.

Self-Pep 2

I wanted to get this blog done before I go to work for two reasons: the first being the benefit of having it done when I come home tonight, allowing me to just dive into my short stories, and the second is because I need to unpack this little shadow following me around.

Crown Jewel (w/ Tyler Fudge)

I stayed up far too late last night, as the timing of my post could tell you. I didn’t feel like daylight savings time had really taken effect until tonight. It’s six o’clock and it’s practically twilight out there—I didn’t miss this at all. I’m worried about my seasonal depression coming back early this year, but I think it’s a baseless worry. I’m a different person now than I was last year, and though I don’t expect to sail through this winter as a happy, carefree boi, I think my life jacket will do a good job of keeping my head above water.

The Cher-like Powers of DST

It’s so late. I’ve lived through one a.m. twice now thanks to the Cher-like powers of Daylight Saving’s Time, and I’ve yet to crack my word count for the day. But, here’s the thing. This sixteen hundred words, it’s just about the novel for National Novel Writing Month, and I work on my short stories every day now in the spirit of that, I put out twelve hundred words tonight and finally finished one of them.

Pants That Fit

No lies, I had what I’m calling a super sexy day. Not only did I feel great, but I looked great. It’s funny how my laziest outfits make me look the best—my t-shirt and blazer combos, sweaters and secretly dirty button ups, it doesn’t matter. It just seems like the less I try with my style, the better things go; it’s like my guitar playing: less is more. I made eye contact with several women who felt like they were checking me out, and one man.

Ongoing Accomplishment

Does no one else remember the episode of Charlie Brown where he meets a little girl who has a weird cough and bruises easily? Did no one—other than myself, learn about death at the same time as ole’ Chuck? Charlie Brown faced his ultimate humiliation in the face of cancer in this episode, losing the only person that every truly loved him to a sudden and shocking end. I only remember two moments from the episode clearly; the first being ole’ Chuck walking this lil’ girl onto the bus and her hitting her elbow.


Tomorrow I start my sixteen hundred word-per-day quota. I initially thought I was going to write a brand-new novel like I should be doing, but instead, I’ll be using National Novel Writing Month to finish my collection of short stories. Tomorrow the work begins, but tonight it’s Halloween and I’ve been flooded with amazing memories throughout the day, so, let’s talk about that.


Every so often there comes a time where I have to admit defeat. I get stretched to my limits occasionally—but it’s a good thing, it’s how I find new limits. But to push the limits past where they used to sit, I have to come down here, it seems. Life hasn’t found a way to help me without hurting me just yet, and if I was writing a movie, this is where Will Smith would say, “this is the part of my life I call character building.”


For a year and a half, all my futures have been uncertain. All of my tunnels twist and obscure the light at he end, keeping it out of sight. I know what I want to do, and I know what I need to do, but the real challenge is keeping my mental health in the forefront of the journey. It’s so easy for me to feel good and forget about the upkeep, causing a backslide that amplifies in magnitude each time.

Furry Friend

Six years ago, my then-girlfriend and I drove to a small acreage outside of Edmonton and handed a stack of bills to a woman. She was surrounded by snorting, hulking bulldogs and basset hounds that rivaled walruses. She had a crop of new litters, and that’s where we found our Sali—Salvador Doggie, the French-surrealist painter/dog. She spent the first five years in a small, two-bedroom townhouse looking over a bar, and then we moved. And then we split up.  I had to move away from a situation that forced me to be away from my dog—it wasn’t by choice, but like a rational adult, I had to put my well being before my attachment to my pooch.

The Moth

It was once a fuzzy worm, crawling beneath the floorboards of a business. The fuzzy worm ate through the debris, eating whatever he could find to gain the strength he so desperately craved. He craved something he did not know—there was a pull, deep within him; a machine that chugged along, whether he wanted it to or not. It drove him to hunger, it drove him towards tragedy, it drove him to gather the power he required to produce the silk that he would spin into salvation.

The Glasses and Humanity of Breaking Bad

I fell asleep at eight p.m. last night, so here I am, watching Better Call Saul and swooning over Gus Fring’s glasses at almost five in the morning. This early in the day, my mind gets away from me in the most constructive manner, so here are five hundred words about the glasses on Breaking Bad.

There is No Manual

It’s eight forty-five and I’ve just converted my bedroom into a “hang out space” for the day. You see, I sleep on a futon in my mother’s house like any proud twenty-nine divorcee would. The futon is actually pretty dope; as you can see in the picture for this post, couch mode is easy-peasy and only requires a small lift and a push to convert it, so when you have your sad divorcee company over (that your mom has approved of), you can all sit in comfort. But today the space isn’t for company—it’s for playing guitar.

Morning Words

It’s warmer this morning than it has been in days. Rain is pelting the city and covering it in a thick layer of pneumonia inducing wet. As I walked to my car just under an hour ago, thoughts of trench foot swirled in my head and I wondered how quickly I’d die if I were in WWI, almost instantly, I’ll bet. I hate wet feet.

Style, Ego and Anxiety

I had a much better day today. Although I slept in and didn’t get to write in the morning like I wanted to, I bounced back from a poor sleep caused by too much caffeine like a champ. I managed to iron, shower, eat and get fuel in my car within an hour of waking up, which might be a record for me. I took a wide swing with a style choice today and it paid off in droves.

Wednesday Evening

What a weird day. The subconscious wear broke through to the real world and poisoned my blood this morning. Before my lunch break, I was finished. Something in my mind let go, and let all of my old anxieties back in. It flared my temper, destroyed my personality and made me, in general, less than pleasant to be around.

Wednesday Morning

I’m tired today, really fucking tired. There’s this subconscious level of wear that I can’t seem to get back to it’s original state. I don’t know what I’m missing. I had an amazing sleep last night—out like a log by ten p.m. and up at six thirty, but something in me feels like I’ve been up for days.

Style #1: Sassy-ass Bitch

Yesterday at Thanksgiving dinner, I wanted to dress up, but still stay a little casual. I wore a white cotton t-shirt, grey chinos, colourful Space Invaders socks, matching brown belt and shoes and I topped it off with a burgundy blazer I got at RW&CO. This is close to my power outfit, just the colours change a bit.

Super Late Post

It’s 3:28 in the morning and I just poured myself a cup of coffee. Why did I get up this early, you ask? Well, my friend, the answer is actually that I haven’t been to bed yet. I’m reclaiming my night owl status today because I have Monday off as well, so if my sleep schedule is thrown right off, I can get it right back on track.