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Happenings and Takeaways, Sleepover Camp circa 2009

I’m surely imagining the sounds of snapping bones and rupturing insides when I recall the memory of striking a mouse with a canoe paddle all those years ago. But not imagined are the sudden limpness of the body nor the chorus of oohs and ewws when the boys in my cabin saw it dead. It had scurried from under a bunk when we were horsing around one afternoon. “A mouse!” was yelled out. It made a...

I have no plans tomorrow. Right now it’s Wednesday July 14th, 12:43 AM. Tomorrow is here. When I got into bed not long ago, it was yesterday, but after lying sleeplessly — my mind flipping as though controlled by a light switch, between the two extremes of motivated and despondent; with open eyes, seeking something, something — tomorrow has come. I listen to songs on repeat. For hours. Right now...

Eight Metaphors for Being Guarded

In April 2019, I was sitting in the University of Guelph library, on the third floor at 8 PM. I was studying. Early April marked the end of regular scheduled classes and the beginning of the exam period. I was in my fourth year of five, it was the semester before summer break. I dreamed of going home to Barrie and diving into summer, but I had no idea of what I wanted my summer to consist of. I...

The Man I like v. The Man I Don’t Know

I was biking up a gravel hill in my lowest gear for twenty minutes when I thought of this. The road was chunky and rough, my bike was loaded with gear, and the rest of the group was ahead of me. I was joined by my pulse thwumping in my head. Just the right components for backcountry introspection. In the past few years, I’ve really increased my dedication to self-growth. I’ve taken hard looks at...

Ode to Night Cruise

It was high school. I made a call to my mom at 12:30 on a Friday night. Despite the late hour, she picked up — my parents always pick up and I love them for it. Her voice came back heavy with sleep. She said: yeah? And she would’ve been concerned if she wasn’t still half asleep. My dad was out of town. This call would have been Dad duty if he was home. I felt bad; I asked if she could come get me...

Revelations of a Couch Surfer

I understand why people do drugs.  Drugs and alcohol have the magical ability to take you somewhere else and it’s right here. A short trip. The journey is from your mind to your mirth, from your perception to what it is you’re perceiving — the lateral move from intaking reality to being a part of it. They call it mindfulness. Drugs achieve it so effortlessly that it’s hard to classify as the same...

Destination or Channeller?

This wasn’t my first time to Whistler. I was there for a couple nights in November, a couple nights in 2017 as well. I’d been as a kid, for the skiing. This trip though was seven nights at a timeshare/hotel room right in the village, overlooking the Olympic Plaza. Our room could hold six people and there was a hot tub shared by all the guests of our building down a series of hallways. I never...

Becoming Gookish Pt. 2

“I haven’t seen someone sleeping in months.” “I haven’t been beside a sleeping person. I’ve been alone. I go to bed, I wake up. I don’t see myself sleep. I don’t see anyone sleeping.”  I wrote that in my journal at the beginning of the month. It’s an inconsequential joy, to see someone sleeping, but it’s a wholesome one. Given that it’s been almost one year of various quarantining protocols, I’m...

Doomsday Prepping

I’ve always liked rules. Not the kind that inhibit actions but the kind that provide conditional instructions. Commandments that provide clarity and quell difficulty. I would make them for myself. The hope was to turn some of the messiness of growing up into objective protocols. I wanted assurance — statues that would guide me down the right path, and when they didn’t, I could say, well I did...

Open Doors

I couldn’t sleep last night. Of course, I did. Eventually.  While my thoughts paced in the blackness behind my eyelids, they passed over my childhood. (How lovely — to think of incidents from decades ago instead of drifting off.) When I was a boy and I couldn’t sleep, it was only ever caused by one of two reasons: either the excitement about Santa’s visit in the night, or open doors. Open doors...

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