The Bloody Doors Off

What the fuck am I even doing here?

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Graphic designer, playwright, occasional asshole

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  • Bookends

    I started today being violently thrown forward from my seat on the King streetcar onto the floor as the driver went waaaaay too fucking fast around the FIRST curve from the Loop. Tonight as I took my dog out back to pee, I was nearly beaned by a flying object (turned out to be a…

  • It’s (sign of the) times like these

    I’ve been quiet. Introspective? Maybe. Imposter syndrome? Definitely. I’m not a writer. I just type shit on the screen and sometimes it makes sense. Or it doesn’t. Or I just. Don’t. “I’m not okay” on loop in my brain. For how long now? Someone bring a 2026 calendar. I was convinced that I was going…

  • Fuck, it’s dusty in here

    Howard is blasting EDM music in my brain, but I can still hear him going at it with the twink ;he picked up the bar earlier tonight. In other news, colours don’t work. And I got a cheque for $US 14.99 because Amazon settled a class-action lawsuit for some stupid thing (and they just had…

  • Ghostbus

    Have you ever, after deleting a voicemail from your sibling, have instant regret and think, “What if this is the last time I’ll hear his voice?” Welcome to Tuesday night. Everything on TV was reruns, so Howard launched a podcast, Ways I Can Fuck With Paul. I hear Wondry is circling. It just might be…

  • (Post)Secret Society of the Travelling Pants

    There’s a website, called Post Secret. (It’s hosted on WordPress, btw.) People — thousands of people — mail their anonymous secrets, on a decorated postcard, to Frank Warren, the founder of this project. It’s spawned a Ted Talk, tours of college campuses. I often wondered if I had something buried so deep, that the only…

  • My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on the limb. And all I remember is thinking “I want to be like them”.

    For some inexplicable reason, my mind spun my focus to movie tropes. One in particular. (And trigger warning — uh, I can be abrasive.) Visiting your deceased (insert relationship to our protagonist) at a (random) cemetery. Where he or she. Us. Me. Talks to the dead. Was that callous? I believe that whatever resides within…

  • Coda

    I made spaghetti with meatballs. Meatballs I got at the St. Lawrence Market. It came with a lot of sauce. I got the bright idea to heat it up Both are on the stove top. A few minutes go by. The taller pot is close to a boil. The meatballs and sauce are just sitting…

  • A little night music.

    (If there are spelling mistakes, actually I don’t give a flying. The words look really tiny right now.) Things sneak up on me. Mostly memories. Scenes from a life. This one skateboarded in, flipped off backward, right heel landing on the driveway pavement, and chipping off a tiny piece of ankle bone. I’ll be 60…

  • Pandora’s Box

    A funny thing happened when I took down the recyccling. To preface: there is a small wooden open bookshelf tucked into the far corner. When people part with items that are still functional (however that applies to the object in question), they will put it on a shelf. Kind of like the Little Free Library.…

  • My empire of dirt

    You know what else I haven’t done, ersatz… I have no clue what ersatz means. Just looked it up. Huh. Didn’t help. Knowing. Right. I haven’t dropped acid. Again, no desire really to try it. (Save for a safe environment guided by an anchor.) A workmate gave a tiny tinfoil square that held molly. Never…