Category Archives: Canada
Storytime with Dr. Gladwell was the highlight of every other Monday and among the most formational aspects of my early education.
When everything you own is pink, excusing it as merely “ironic” becomes less convincing. No, you actually have to admit you’re fond of this obnoxious colour.
I think sometimes being a runner has trained me too well to use that overrule, to endure whatever path lies before me, to be patient to a fault—to stay the course when the course is going to kill me.
Deep in the those woods, where the Severn River winds through White spruces and Balsam firs, I wonder if any of the trees are old enough to have lived during both Jack’s lifetime and my own.
The rupture between God and humanity is crystal clear in this one, and as the play careened toward its tragic ending, no one in the theatre was surprised.
Nowhere else in this big wide world of ours can you find a life-size Michael Jackson and Princess Diana made entirely out of marzipan.
I approached the Mustang with my hands raised in surrender. No weapons. No threats. I passed through the glare of the headlights and saw three men sitting in the car. All were big in the Mike Tyson way, and all three looked angry.
Sleep isn’t all that important if it comes at that rate. A night that costs more than thirty bucks is a night that would be better spent wandering around the streets killing time until sunrise.
So I let baby calves with rough tongues suck on my fingers. I stopped caring about whether or not I was getting dust on my white shorts or cow manure on my shoes.