Who gives a shit? Part 1: A poem a day

It all started out of boredom. There I was, staring out the window, sitting on my lumpy sack of a couch, wondering what the fuck I was doing with my life. I had just quit my job, filling orders for skateboard shops across Canada from a warehouse in Richmond, my boss a pathological liar with... Continue Reading →


What the fuck is a year? Part 8: On to the next one

A year is an incredibly easy thing to waste. The moments seem to last to eternity, but when viewed as a whole amount to a minuscule mess. I wasted almost four years not speaking to my father. The reasons have all melted away into useless fog, impudent childhood or tyrannical patriarch who cares, I lost... Continue Reading →

What the fuck is a year? Part 6: In which actors find no love, hoodies cause yet another misunderstanding, and financial aid takes on a new definition

My grandfather has always prided himself in his philanthropy. My mom often recounts memories of him stopping to help random strangers in need of money or food. Of course, she often punctuates these stories with vague (to vivid) recollections of being beaten later so her perspective is altered to say the least.  He worked his... Continue Reading →

What the fuck is a year? Part 5: In which school is justifiably blown off, Alan Grant is proven to be much braver than the narrator and endings come regardless

Growing up, I had a great disdain for school. I was fidgety, distractable and couldn't be bothered to apply myself to trivialities like math or science. I would fake sick constantly for a shot at staying home another day. With my parents newly divorced, and both in the workforce as teachers, this left my grandmother... Continue Reading →

What the fuck is a year? Part 3: In which a family dynamics are held to account, Lon Chaney Jr. shoulders some of the blame and facial hair is used as social lubricant

Being the third (and youngest) child, I grew up demanding attention. If I wasn't banging on a random assortment of pots to imitate the baby dinosaur from Dinosaurs (I'm the baby, gotta love me is still my mantra), I was running around the house half naked screaming whatever curse word my brother had most recently... Continue Reading →

What the fuck is a year? Part 1: In which the narrator loses one source of income only to find another and moving companies may or may not profit in the long run. Pizza is had.

A few months into 2014, I lost my job. Well, OK, the store I worked at, shilling phones to suckers who can't afford to outright buy their phones, closed down unexpectedly and rather than transfer to a new location, I decided to get laid off. I mean, I'd been paying into EI since I was... Continue Reading →

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