There is a tremendous amount of other life in the universe ( Read more... )

My model number is SAN7-8V/. That’s San-seven, eight-vee-slash. Slashers, they called us. Fierce name for a gang of decorations ( Read more... )

This life, this illusion, our photographs and hair gel and fear of the end times, are all architecture caught in the act of a lightning strike. We understand that film moves at 24 frames per second to create the illusion of motion but we don’t know how fast reality splits to fool us. Each newscaster takes up smoking because they know the end ( Read more... )

It’s the corners that trick us, that force us to pay attention. I’m not even sure what kind of price can be called unfair when weighed against the sheer privilege of being alive. DNA is AND backwards. We are living conjunctions in a mirror, flipped reflections linking back and back to our ancestors, all the way back to the period at the ( Read more... )

Radiohead. I don’t have the words but I have attempts.

I am reborn. He calls the tune. By reborn I mean baptized in the unending sheets of blood-temperature rain at the Thunderbird stadium. By ‘he’ I mean Thom Yorke. I am soaked to the bone. We, all twenty thousand of us, had fun. Not in spite of the rain, but because of it. It was ( Read more... )

All people are stories. You have been a paragraph in me. Years have been turned, paper-thin day after paper-thin day, by your finger tips. Every word has dropped from your lips in between quotation marks, letter by letter, into the wet pages of my narrative ( Read more... )

Real Life:

Are there two tribes of people?

I see vacancy in a lot of eyes that I envy sometimes. But not really. Just wistfully.

Am I just more sensitive to the input of the world? Is my experience what everybody experiences but doesn’t talk about? When I walk down busy streets and I see people doing things that I would never ever do and ( Read more... )

Stitches in time hold seconds together ( Read more... )

Stone stairs with backs swayed from centuries of feet look back at me from my memories, daring me to walk up. Every apartment I lived in over there was older than Canada ( Read more... )

Laughter followed us up out of the dream. Out of that sewer. Each syllable was like a sharpened jigsaw puzzle piece looking to fit under skin. A stench of cotton candy wafted up from the hole. To this day, I stay away from anything with sugar in it. The taste of sweet things brings the episode back strong ( Read more... )