Writing samples

 Sometime in there, I thought it would be fun to put some streaks in my hair. I was going to dye it jet black and then put in some lemon yellow bits. Black and yellow has always been my favourite colour combination and I thought it would be a cool look to complement me as I navigated my mid 20s. Only part of it worked. I succeeded in dying my hair jet black - it was so black that it had a blue sheen like Veronica Lodge's always does in the Archie strips - but the yellow streaks just made part of my hair look like it had been dipped in lemon juice. I complained about it to a professional stylist, who told me I had to bleach my hair first. She offered to do it for me for about $200. - My hair is grey now. I tend to dye it before I'm set to perform a bunch of school shows; I like to look as young as possible for them. But buggabugga has taken school shows from me and I can't afford hair dye right now anyway. The people I know tell me I look better with grey, that I should embr

 Well gee willackers, guess what I'm going to write about? Yeah so I'm totally chuffed about the new James Bond movie, set to open - finally, at last - sometime in October. Buggabugga has delayed the world premiere at least twice (I think) and I hope stupid human beings won't let it get delayed again. The way I see it, there are probably 10 more Bond movies that I can squeeze into my life so Eon Production better kick out No Time to Die PDQ so it can decide how it wants to reboot the franchise again. And I love how people say that Daniel Craig rebooted the Bond universe. Everytime a new actor is cast, the Bond universe gets a reboot. When Roger Moore started playing James Bond, the universe was rebooted as a British farce. When Timothy Dalton started playing James Bond, the universe was rebooted as brooding Shakespearean plaything. When Pierce Brosnan started playing James Bond, the universe was rebooted as a hypersexual pantheon of product placement. Now Craig gives us thi

They say that grief is weightless But I have to disagree For when I saw you lying still I felt the weight on me I know in life, there is a race that each of us must run But I believed there was no end to it when I was very young   Now time keeps claiming friends of mine and throws them in the grave and I can love them all I want and wish they could be saved   But nothing, baby, nothing will slow them when they're fast and if I want to visit them I travel to the past   And there we'll raise a drinking glass and toast the joke of life and beg the Norns to drop their threads  and dull their sharpened knives I used to wish to be a god when I was very young and grief was all but weightless when my world was filled with sun

 Oh boy. Another post where I can write about that big dumb novel I want to write one day. No, I don't think I'll do that. People are tired of reading about it and they're tired of hearing me talk about it. What was once a contender's project has turned into a fool's errand. I shouldn't talk about it anymore. No one wants to hear "I'm going to do it" but I hope that one day, they'll be happy to hear me say "I did it." But I think I will take some time to talk about an unspoken dream I've had for a very long time. I've told a few people about it in passing but I never really dwelled on it. It's something I may do one day if I have the resources to to start it up and I think that if I couple it with my magic shows, I could probably get a decent return on investment. The dream is this: One day, I'd like to have a Punch and Judy show. What is a Punch and Judy show? Well, it's the oldest puppet show in history. Punch an

 There is a funny story about a lady who had never seen an elephant before. There she was, living her elephant-free life, when an elephant escaped from the zoo. Well, as luck would have it, Mr. Elephant trampled into the lady's backyard and decided to have a feast on her flowerbed. The poor old lady saw this and promptly freaked out. She picked up the phone and called the police. "There's a great big grey beast in my flowerbed," she tells the 911 dispatcher. "It's picking flowers up with its TAIL!" "And what is it doing with the flowers?" The dispatcher asked. "You're not going to BELIEVE what it's doing with the flowers." So ha ha ha. - Let's watch one of the most traumatic nightmare-inducing sequences in the entire Disney canon: The Simpsons once joked that Walt Disney had the "evil gene." When I look back at this bit, which seemed so out of place in Dumbo (a movie older than my dad) I tend to agree. Disney mig

 Well, no they're not. They are not yummy. I don't like the way they taste or the way they smell. I don't even like being in the same room as someone who is eating one.  I have no idea why I feel so strongly about this. My mom tells me I used to love bananas. Then, at one point, it was like a switch was thrown. I've hated them ever since. When I buy fruit smoothees at the store, I scan the ingredients to make sure there's no bananas. This is telling. I'm okay with glucose-fructose, but not bananas. - A couple days ago, I mentioned the Canadian children's entertainer, Raffi. Now I want to mention him again. This is because in 1994, he released a song, and an album, called Bananaphone, which looked like this: It is at least the second song of Raffi's career that mentions bananas. The first, of course, is Apples and Bananas. Raffi must have a thing for bananas. "Mmm," says Raffi. "Bananas are yummy." - The Sesame Street characters Bert a

 Well if I have ever had a note title where I'd want to go back later and change it, this is definitely one of them. About a week from now, I'm sure I will think of something even more outlandish than what I'm about to write about here. I find myself in a more contemplative mood tonight so I'm not going to write a bunch of goofy stuff. I think there's plenty of over-the-top ridiculous things. The outfits that the pope wears during papal ceremonies are over-the-top. So are most of the floats in gay pride parades. But if I had to narrow everything down to one major offender, I would have to nominate the Walt Disney Company. I would have come to this conclusion as early as 1984 when CBS aired a massive 50th birthday celebration for Donald Duck. There were parades, musical numbers, and Dick Clark interacting with the birthday boy himself. It was fun but it was also overkill. I couldn't help but think that the whole thing was stupid. Donald Duck wasn't even real

 Here then is the funniest scene in the history of the cinema: I was sixteen years old when I saw that movie, UHF, in the summer of 1989. Some friends and I went to see it at the now defunct Southland Cinema that used to be at the corner of Southland and MacLeod Trail in Calgary. I didn't just laugh, I howled. I laughed so hard that my sides hurt and tears came out of my eyes. I laughed so hard that some of my fellow moviegoers shushed me.  What made that scene even funnier was the sure knowledge that not everyone found it as funny as I did. A girl named Keri, who was the girlfriend of my friend, Jay, looked at me like I was crazy. She didn't find anything funny about that scene - thought it cruel, in fact - and this just made me laugh harder. My dad tells a similar story of walking into a movie house circa 1976 and watching a movie called Murder By Death. The film is a sendup of all those turn of the century murder mysteries and my dad thought it was so funny that he screamed

 I used to own a moonstone. Really, I did. It was one of the most useful things I ever owned. It allowed me to instantly transport myself around the world. No longer did I have to worry about things like jet lag, flight delays, or airport traffic. All I had to do was use my moonstone outside Jhelom and I could be in Skara Brae in a split second. Oh yes. That's pure geekspeak, friends. I think that the donor of this title, Kathryn Brunton, will allow it as she is also a geek, though her preferred kingdom is Star Trek while mine is Ultima, the series of fantasy role-playing video games that came out in the 1980s. In Ultima, there were eight towns that were all dedicated to one of the eight virtues of avatar hood. Skara Brae, for example, was dedicated to spirituality while Jhelom was dedicated to valour. Outside each of these towns was a moon gate. Stepping through them would transport you to another moon gate locale (this depended entirely on the phase of the moon.)  In Ultima V, yo

Going on a picnic, leaving right away If it doesn't rain, we'll stay all day. Did you bring the sandwiches? Yes I've brought the sandwiches. Did you bring the salad? Yes I've brought the salad. Ready for a picnic here we go. These are the words of Raffi, Canadian children's entertainer and personal hero of my baby sister. The song is called Going on a picnic and it is from Raffi's 1979 album, The Corner Grocery Store . The song continues as follows: Going on a picnic, leaving right away If it doesn't rain, we'll stay all day. Did you bring the melon? Yes I've brought the melon. Did you bring the apples? Yes I've brought the apples. Did you bring the lemonade? Yes I've brought the lemonade. Did you bring the cookies? Yes I've brought the cookies. Ready for a picnic here we go. And here is an addition to the song, written by my late best friend, Ozi, sometime in the mid 1980s. Did you bring the lemonade? Yes I've brought the lemonade.

 My home - my apartment - is about the size of a two car garage.  When you walk through the door, you are in my kitchen. Look to the left and there is a sink and counter and stove. Look to the right and there is a kitchen table. The table is flanked by two doors, one that leads to the bedroom and another that leads to, what I have started calling, "the blue room." I call it this because there is a blue carpet on the floor. The rest of my apartment has linoleum. The blue room has had a number of functions over the years. Briefly, it served as my roommate's quarters. At one time it was going to be my kid's room but then he decided that he preferred the other room. The blue room has become my room now. I am writing this in the blue room. Immediately behind me a day bed I got from IKEA a couple years ago. It has become my favourite bed. My apartment is not luxurious but I love it. I am aware that a large part of the world's population would view my four walls as sheer

The late Christian apologist Walter Martin used to point out that God never promised people happiness. He promises them joy in the afterlife but not bliss in this one.  I, for one, am sick of sanctimonious mushy gushy reverends saying things like "God loves you and He can't wait to shower you with blessings so you'll be happy." Yeah, tell that to the Christians who were fed to the lions in the coliseum. - My mom paid me a compliment the other day when she said I am one of the least materialistic people she knows. It threw me for a loop because I've been saving my money for a new car for the past three years (thank you, buggabugga, for wiping out my bank account.) I asked her to explain herself and she reminded me that my cruddy little apartment, which I have called home for nearly two decades, would be anathema to the vast majority of people living in First World Canada. My apartment is tiny. There is no balcony. There is no outdoor pool or view of the city skylin

 So here we are smack dab in the middle of the dog days of summer, which are supposed to end in early August. For the second summer in a row, things have sucked because of buggabugga and as this stupid pandemic ends, we're heading into a new normal that could be defined by climate change. I'm hearing reports of clams that are boiling in lakes, crops that spoiled because of the heat, and runaway forest fires. The preachers on the Christian radio station I listen to are wont to say that these are heralds of the end times. - Walking to the office today, I saw the sun disappear. Seriously, it was like a magic trick. The sky was overcast, just a sheet of grey-white, and the sun appeared like an orange dagger, not a sphere at all. Slowly, the sun faded from few, as if being embraced by smoke. I wished I'd filmed it. Kiddo woke up sick on Sunday morning. His dumb ole dad had let him spend too long at the splash pad the previous day. Probably had a touch of heat stroke. I remembere

 God help me but when I was given the title "pinecones and peppermints," the first thing I thought of was the Christian children's album Bullfrogs and Butterflies that we had when we were kids. The title track was an allegory for being born again, seeing as how bullfrogs and butterflies both go through radical transformations in their lives. The same cannot be said for pinecones and peppermints, even though that phrase has the same cadence as bullfrogs and butterflies. - I śaw plenty of pinecones yesterday. I also saw something called a Japanese beetle, which is an invasive species that is destroying our local flora. There's a church whose border touches my kid's favourite splash pad. That border is marked with a chain link fence and through that fence spill plenty of leaves from a bush I can't identify. The leaves are covered with Japanese beetles. On several leaves, I saw one beetle on top of another one. The ones on top were bouncing up and down. I knew wha

 Well this will be a toughie. I want it known that my pontifications should not be taken as authoritative. I have a very limited knowledge of 80s hair metal. Growing up, I was a fan of Aerosmith, Alice Cooper, Twisted Sister and Quiet Riot. I was a nominal fan of Motley Crue but their degenerate drug-fuelled lifestyle totally turned me off. I know next to nothing of KISS, RATT, Bon Jovi, Poison, or any of those spandex wearing dudes who helped keep the hairspray industry afloat while Reagan was president. I share the same name as Aerosmith's frontman, Steven Tyler, but I can't say I'd look to him for life lessons. Pretty much all of the songs on their late 80s offerings, Permanent Vacation and Pump, were about sex. Same could be said about Alice Cooper in that time period. That bugged me. Before that, Alice was about ghost and goblins and being crazy. Now he was trying to be like Aerosmith. I liked some of the songs from that era but I still felt that he sold out. I caught

I should have known that this would be the title my kid would give me for note-a-day. He usually resorts to one-word one-syllable offerings; his past two were "pig" and "bacon." That meant that he gave me the same title twice, the only difference between them being an abattoir. So now I am to write about swimming. Now when my kid says "swim," he isn't necessarily telling me that he wants to take a dip in a pool. What he's saying is he wants me to take him to a splash pad and let him frolic therein for the next eight billion hours. My kid NEVER gets tired of splash pads. I am exceedingly grateful that these splash pads are free to use. If I had to pay, I'd be completely broke. - I have just returned from swimming (see definition above.) Kiddo frolicked in a splash pad from 4:30 p.m. until 7.  But now that we are home, he doesn't want me to write. He wanted to go to bed and watch Caillou and cuddle. Okay, kiddo. But the price you pay is an ab

There used to be a pennant in my bedroom that showed Snoopy and Woodstock dancing. The accompanying slogan said: "To dance is to live; to live is to dance." The pennant was a forest green and was my first introduction to semi-colons. I don't know where I got it but it found a home on my bedroom wall. I wasn't into dancing - I was still young and insecure enough to dismiss dancing as a "girls' activity" - but that pennant just seemed so at home in my bedroom. I looked at it constantly and the slogan seemed apropos. Because, of course, the pennant didn't preach dancing as a prerequisite for happiness. What it did preach was that frivolity is important. Hard work is more important, of course, but sometimes, as Kenny Loggins says, you've got to kick off the Sunday shoes. - I sure do miss Rae MacCulloch, who was my favourite Glengarrian.* Here was a woman who dedicated her life to teaching Highland dancing out of her home in South Glengarry. Her dance