Very sad i missed the Hot One Inch Action show at Hot Art Wet City Gallery the other night…but happy my image was part of the show among so many other fab designs! Can you guess which one is mine…? (photo borrowed from Instagram @divinisty)
A while back my submission to Geist Magazine’s Annual Postcard Story Contest made their long list. While it didn’t quite make the short list for publishing I was happy with the result nonetheless, and I meant to post it up here some time ago. The contest asked writers to submit a story of up to 500 words in length and pair it with a postcard style image of their choice (mine I found on Wikipedia Commons). My story is mostly fictionish with elements of non-fiction sprinkled throughout. Enjoy…
Better Things To Do
I found a letter from PETA in my mail slot yesterday. Needless to say it wasn’t for me; it was addressed to Jeri. She lived here before I did. Who knew PETA sends its members threatening letters? FINAL NOTICE, it read, CONSEQUENCES FOR FAILURE TO REPLY. Of course I’d never open someone else’s mail – I don’t stick my schnoz in anyone’s business. But what’s the harm in gleaning the odd word here and there through the envelope against a lampshade? They really should use thicker paper. Continue reading
I was scrolling through Facebook during a trip down the gondola from the top of Grouse Mountain when my attention was diverted to a conversation between two passengers.
“In those!?” He was pointing at another hiker’s footwear, his face stricken with horror. The shoes were kind of like lady’s Mary Jane flats, but they were made of thick white rubber. “You hiked the Grind in those?”
“Yup,” she said, “I just love ‘em. They’re lightweight, flexible, comfor…”
“No, no. You cannot hike this mountain in those shoes,” he said. “There is no way.”
“And!” she replied, “And they’re water proof! No water gets in! Not a single dro…”
Oh no, I thought, Brenda’s here. The tell-tale perfume trail always gave it away.
Just the week before she’d cornered a colleague in the photocopy room.
“I got a yeast infection,” she’d said. “And it stinks.”
I had a prof at SFU who often used to say: have a think on that.
A few years ago I painted a replica of Zurbarán’s Saint Francis in Meditation. The original is about three feet by six feet, but my version seen above is smaller at 22 inches by 28 inches.
During a trip to my Nana’s in the U.K. this spring, I paid a visit to the original painting where it hangs in the National Gallery.