I’ve been meaning to do this for a while but kept putting it off. And I tend to stay pretty far from social media most days which has made procrastinating on this a lot easier. Then I found out that today is International Non-binary People’s Day and I started reading people’s posts. Stories of courage,…

I woke up disoriented again this morning. The way you do when you’re a kid in the early hours of the morning of a sleepover. For seconds that felt like hours, I couldn’t remember how I’d arrived here. No idea where I was, all context escaped me. I gasped, I clutched, I dripped sweat. My…

No one is coming to take you away. Little pool noodle in pock marks. Busted boogie board, creased down the waist. Deflated unicorn, crying iron tears of muddy residue; no one was ever going to take you away. LEASE AKE It’s a wet folded sign like so many of this clean spring herd. They swamp…

An un-unique tale of boredom in the age of the Coronavirus, COVID-19, SARS COV-2, etc., etc., applause, applause, applause. It isn’t every day you get the chance to revel in absolute boredom. The eighth deadly sin, oh luxury of luxuries in our busy-praising world; boredom is the new gold. That is unless of course you…

Home is gathering dust. A lot more than the usual layer of crumpled dead skin is collecting around every corner because of how much time I’ve been spending indoors lately. Being asthmatic, I have to take this straight razor seriously. I spent the day scrubbing in my bright cartoon dinosaur pink half-mask respirator. The one…

I want to share the story of my first boy kiss with you (I would say first gay kiss, but even back then I knew I was non-binary, I was just too scared to come out at the time). It’s not a very interesting or particularly unique story. It doesn’t have too many twists or…

I keep coming back to the violin. It feels like it’s always been such a big part of my life, this wood chalice is part of who I am. But I haven’t touched the instrument in years. The memories it holds, I wish I’d stuck with it, I wish that I could remember how to play it.

Eight grade, after school, a half-hour drive + traffic — downtown Toronto traffic…

Cut, fold, cut, tape, fold, glue, fold, tape, wind, roll, and repeat. I fiddle and fumble gangly long fingers pressing smooth lines into the mat texture of thick paper. Re-folded and unfolded, pressing jagged oval ridges out to make room for sharp edges. This is taking the expertise built from every arts and crafts lesson I ever attended as a child, and possibly all four years of my fine arts degree. Finally, I can see it starting to take form; this paper-craft awkward-double-box, strung together with elastic bands, is becoming a camera…