A friend once said a good reason for writing fiction is that, as you work on your characters, you work on yourself. (He may have implied that this was the only good reason for writing fiction, but I can’t remember.) It’s kind of like therapy.
Category: Elbow
The category, Elbow, is for posts that make us laugh.
10 Words I Hate
Shard I hate the word “shard.” A shard is a sliver of glass or a scrap of shattered pottery, but we never use it that way. Now, we only use it as a simile to describe a state of mind: “His thoughts were scattered like shards of a broken window across the sidewalk.” People think it’s…
No News Is – well – no news
Today we learn from the associated press (via the Toronto Star) that “The FBI and Homeland Security Department say they have no indication that terrorists are targeting the U.S. or its citizens as part of a new threat against Europe.” Come again?
Political Correctness Saved My Soul
As I was walking my dog this morning, I found myself reflecting on a few of the many ways prejudice infected my childhood and how political correctness saved me.
If Reading Is Consumption, Then Writing Is Excretion
E-ink is a lie. It tries to persuade us that writing is black. While I don’t doubt that some of it is black, the very best writing appears in brown ink. That’s because the very best writing is smeared on the page in shit.
Graffiti: Books
I love this little piece of graffiti I found near the intersection of Nassau St. & Spadina Ave. in Toronto. As graffiti, it’s not great. File this one under “it’s the thought that counts.”
G20 Protester Chased at Toronto Pride Parade
A protester pretending to be police officer in riot gear ran into the intersection at Charles St. & Yonge. He was carrying a shield with the word “Polite” on it and wore a visor low over his face to mimic the visors the police wore last week while protecting Toronto’s fair citizens from the G20 Summit.
Story: Burning in Stockholm
When Vince woke up on Saturday morning, he didn’t think much of the fact that the space beside him in the bed was empty. With eyes still shut, he stretched out his left arm and found the pillow cold and the sheets thrown back. Emily was probably up and running errands or digging in the garden or chatting with the neighbours.
Morty the Juice Cat
Sometimes Jeb takes a notion. Been that way all his life. Don’t matter how hare-brained or loonie-goonie, it’s his notion ‘n’ there ain’t no changing his mind. Well this time he went too far ‘n’ it durned near kilt him.
World Oldest Shoe Discovered in Armenian Cave
Scientists excavating in an Armenian cave discovered a size 7 right shoe that is 5,500 years old.
America’s Next Top Stick Person
Apparently there”s this show on TV, hosted by Tyra Banks, which celebrates eating disorders in America. I’d love to watch it sometime, but it’s only on during my designated times when I lock myself in the bathroom and make myself puke into the toilet. It’s this after-dinner ritual I have.
Sean Stanley wins best foreign book trailer
The Moby Awards are the creature of the MobyLives book blog by the Hoboken-based Melville House Publishing. They celebrate the best (and worst) in a growing book-publishing trend — the book trailer. If movies can have them, then why can’t books?
G8 to share Deerhurst with Mosquitoes
With the G8 leaders summit fast approaching (June 25th & 26th), security seems to be on everybody’s mind, but the biggest threat to the safety and comfort of world leaders will probably come in six-legged packages.
Why commas matter
Although I wouldn’t describe myself as a grammar Nazi, there are times when I think it’s important to observe certain fundamental rules.
Story: A Shitty Parable
In Rome there is a grand hotel. I’ve been there myself and can attest first-hand to its grandeur: the well-appointed lobby and the urbane concierge, the bellhops in their scarlet uniforms, the majestic ballroom that has entertained dignitaries from around the world, the five-star restaurant which caters sumptuous banquets, the luxurious rooms with their beds and draperies and gold-plated faucets.