Author Archives: sinistersuperspy

Rough Trade

So another misses opportunity for eloquent meanderings through verb and verse.

Another bizarre night of offputting dreams.

Did I actually sleep last night?

I probably did but I still feel like I’m in a movie starring GSP.

Hopefully coffee will sweep away the cobwebs and discarded emotional wreckage that frolics hand in hand with a bad nights sleep.

More to come later today. Stay tuned.

Hitting the Wall

So I’ve been at this now consistently for two weeks.

I wonder how professionals do it.

I mean it’s a lot of work, dragging chunky bits of scribbling gold out of my head each and every day.

I remember when I was in college, back in the old Twentieth, riding to school on the TTC. My brain was afire with glimmering wondercakes of poetic wizardry. The words flew forth as if I was possessed by the first dictionary-ist.

Sorry. I accidentally a word.

I still have all those scraps, safely tucked away, the ink barely faded.

Maybe I should try to transpose them, as a catalogue of my intellectual and creative development through the millennia.

That way, philosophy professors of the future will have a wealth of pre-lecture ha-has with which to entertain whatever passes for students at that time.

Larson. Epic.

Still, there was a good one i wrote about trees.

Remind me to dig it up before I leave.

Late Night Serenade

Ah, night time.

The persuasive lull of the twilight hour. The quiet hum of the late shift shifting. The soft glow from the amber caution light.

The only issue I have with being a night owl is my inconvenient pangs for cheeseburgers once I’m comfortably tucked in.

Mmmmm. Cheeseburgers.

Well, that’s just like your opinion, man……

I should just keep my mouth shut.

Listen.

I have this bizarre notion that people deserve truth.

Perhaps this is the last remaining glimmer of my twenty-something idealism, desperately clinging to life at the edge of a raw nerve.

I honestly believe that my doing anything less than be truthful with you is a disservice.

And that doesn’t jive with me.

You see, I can take you being angry with me.

Feel the need to voice your opinion? Go ahead!

Wanna chuck a burning toaster at my head? Why not?

Perhaps a conveniently located Plymouth moving forwards and backwards over my right foot will provide the necessary relief from tension, gained by my heartfelt but straightforward offering?

Knock yourself the fuck out.

Because I am a big boy. And I have big boy shoulders. And big boy pants to accommodate my big boy balls. And all of these attributes afford me the confidence, the wherewithal and the consideration to respect you enough to not yank your fucking chain. Even if it means hurting your feelings a little bit.

It does you no good. And it does me no good.

No matter what anyone ever says or ever feels about what you do, say or think, they should always be willing to admit that you were always honest.

And that you always knew where your towel was.

The highs and lows of contemporary living

Each day is different from the next.

Each day brings a myriad number of challenges, upsets and experiences.

For me, today, this equals ongoing vehicular repairs, the shameless misery of financial disappointment, and a perpetual nightmare of pets that poop, pull and prattle at squirrels.

But hang on. Listen to this.

Today, our littlest one began the bright and beautiful journey of being able to read on his own.

Its just a beginning, mind you, but a beginning nonetheless.

How awesome is that?

In the grand scheme, a wonky tire, a few bucks short, and energizer puppies are tiny legumes.

Its hard to keep sight of the high points day in and day out. We get so wrapped up in the things that don’t work out, that we miss the things that do.

When next you fret and swear over a missed appointment, or a broken plate, try to look around. See what went right.

We only get one day at a time. Enjoy each one as much as you can.

Assistance Is Futile….

So my oldest son is participating in an overnight cenotaph vigil with his Air Cadet Squadron for Remembrance Day.

I’m pretty proud of him.

However, as I was finishing work tonight, my wife texted me and said he’d forgotten his toque.

Like any dutiful Dad, I ran it over to him.

As I arrived at the legion, he was sitting at a table with some friends, his back to me.

And that’s when I saw it.

You see, it is customary, in any military oriented organization, to keep a certain dress and deportment about yourself.

Specifically your hair.

Now, he’d done his due diligence last night by using the clippers and giving himself a proper haircut.

Except for the ridiculous swath of hair he missed on the back of his head.

I mentioned it. He said he knew already.

For smegs sake people. If you need help with something, just ask.