I command subjects, turn math to English, history
to lunch, govern teachers and students alike in
my slow crawl through middle and high school
periods.
“Thank you all for being here to celebrate my lovely wife, Julie.” He smiled at her mother, then Bri and the rest of the gathered party. “I know your love for Shakespeare, dear, so I thought this would be something you’d enjoy.” With an overly-dramatic flourish of his hand, he sat on the loveseat with his wife.
We are all God’s little playthings. Or else why are we on a ball.
I had the goods,
the lowdown, the skinny,
the whole truth
and nothing but.
I was dangerously
in the know.
It's the portrayals of thinkers and writers like O’Brien, Nadine Gordimer, James Wood, and Edward Said, that further explain the purpose behind such a book, more so than Professor Boyers’ reflections on the title figures. Much of this memoir is set at various dinners, conferences, and symposiums where arguments are volleyed and feelings are hurt. The atmosphere is taut with argument.
But what about the fact that her father believed in nothing? No afterlife, no reincarnation, no heaven or hell. No God. Just dead emptiness. Could he be right? So, what was the purpose of life then? Just the here and now? Each moment. If there’s nothing, what about right and wrong?
On three, the boy next to us threw a Frisbee that wasn’t there. A second later, we let loose the real thing. Time slowed as we waited for a reaction. The man in charge of our European well-being cursed into the evening. Contact!
If you listen, really listen, their voices come back.
They start to tell you about places you’ve
never been, about things you want with
a ferocity that scares you sometimes. They make
sense. Sit with them on the couch and watch
a movie you know is bad.
She looks away, staring toward the forest behind the garden wall. Kendell takes his time and takes a few photos.
“There, I trust you now,” says Deidra, holding her hand for Kendell to help her down. “Be careful. I do not want to ladder my fishnets.”
Film / Captain Canada's Movie Rodeo / February 2024 / Gabriel Ricard
Gabe shares some observation about how people read and watch films in this month’s Captain Canada’s Movie Rodeo.
That was true. I confess that when the NSA woke me at 2 AM asking for my assistance with an urgent legal matter, it was difficult to refuse. First, they'd tried calling my business cell, next calling my private cell, then knocking on my door, and finally, calling my private cell again. That's when I caved in and answered.
Only connect
indeed. Dressed and buckled in
like chefs or psychiatric patients,
they shuffle and lunge.
Though I was starting to feel sleepy like my mother would, I stood and surveyed the cemetery like I knew what losing a friend felt like. Everyone raised their bottles, downed whatever they had left. The headstones began to melt. Part of the ground started to cave in. I wasn’t sure if when I returned home after the wedding, I’d remember slogging through the broken cemetery gates when we were done mourning, feeling warm, welcomed, whole.
During our time dating, Matt told me he had an ex-lover named Geoff. For whatever reasons and coincidences, more than a couple of my boyfriends over the years have had exes named Geoff. I apologize for this stupid and ridiculous response, but I developed a negative, visceral reaction when I hear that name mentioned by someone I’m seeing, no matter how it’s spelled.
Film / Captain Canada's Movie Rodeo / January 2024 / Gabriel Ricard
Gabe counts down his most and least anticipated films of 2024 in the first Captain Canada’s Movie Rodeo of the year.
FICTION / Minotaur / Liam Carton
The perfect monster for me was The Minotaur.
I would draw mazes on A4 refill pads in the cafe with my father with the smooth scratching of HB pencil.
LETTER FROM THE EDITOR / January 2024 / Kolleen Carney-Hoepfner
Here’s our small, intimate January issue, which we felt was a great way to ease into 2024.
We’re traveling with our three dogs in December,
cruise control on seventy-five, three, maybe
four car-lengths behind a silver Honda Odyssey
“You’re following too close,” DeeGee says to me—
POETRY / Stray bullet found its way into the van, and that killed a 3 or 4-year old lady / Joey Gould
The bullet tapped her on the shoulder,
mistaking her for someone who deserved
ire. Are you supposed to be here?
When I leave the woman who interviewed me
wraps me up in an embarrassingly long hug
then kisses both my cheeks like we’re starring
in a mob movie. I look for hidden cameras.