Long drives were usually pleasurable experiences for him. It was rare to be driving for so long and not have a purpose. Whether the purpose was going to visit a friend or member of his family, picking up something special he couldn’t get closer to him or driving home after experiencing something special, the driving was charged with something of value. As most of us do,

Everyone was searching for vintage things. Sometimes it was vintage clothing, often it was vintage records, record players, amplifiers, tube amps, analogue tape machines among other things. Old weathered guitars were desirable to many professional musicians. People also looked for vintage ice-cream makers, cabinets, tables, leather furniture and cars. Why was it that so many things from yesterday were still so sought after today? It was

It was in his nature to purposely remember the flaws he was aware of in past lovers. If he could keep his mind filled with all the downfalls and imperfections, he wouldn’t miss all the wonderful goodness. If he could convince himself that she was just the sum of annoyances, he wouldn’t pine after all the sweetness. In the bathroom he would picture her squeezing the

There were many things he’d never set his mind to, which maybe he should. He knew it would be easy to develop and share an opinion on politics, but he just hadn’t had the time to set his mind to it/them. He was pretty sure it’d be a good idea to set his mind to cooking and having better dietary habits than to set his mind

They were comedic actors. They were comedian and comedienne playing clichés. But they were OVER-acting which made it funny, of course. It probably was the type of funny that a passer-by wouldn’t notice. It was of the “you’ve got to know them” variety. They took on these roles when they went to the mall. He played the dragged-along boyfriend and she played the prissy-and-materialistic girlfriend. She

He started to think of writing as sleight of hand. To write well was to deviate and then reveal. Writing was the expression of ideas and most ideas were mystical. Not ideas like “one”. Numerical ideas, to him anyway, were a bit too concrete to be mystical, but ideas like friendship, love or poetry were very mysterious, magical. To write was to be the magician, to

He was driving home this morning very early after a long night of being awake. His mind was lost in a fog of fatigue. His car, from his swampy perspective (his mind sloshing around in his head), floated gracefully over the charcoal streets, darkened by the rain and twilight (not the books). He was almost home when, due to the nature of the season, he saw

Clouds were white. He was sure clouds were white. Ask anyone what colour clouds were and, if they weren’t melancholic characters who only enjoyed looking outside on moody days when the clouds were grey, they would say clouds were white. Children drew them white. But she painted them pink, orange and purple. She painted them joyful, smokey and billowing. She painted them with gold, lava and