July 2010
1 post
I keep thinking about slitting my wrists.
I don’t want to die. I know that.
It’s a desperate cry for help.
I want someone to come save me.
I want the people who hurt me to know.
What they’re doing has injured me.
They just can’t see it.
Yet.
March 2010
1 post
Vignette 12
The snow is gone, but a chill lingers in the evening. She wraps her coat a little tighter around her, hating that the leather is colder than the air for the moment.
It’s only seven in the evening, but she’s too drunk to drive. As soon as she was done work, she walked across the street to the pub and started drinking. It’s been one of those days. She drank alone, turning away the...
August 2009
1 post
Drabble
Connoisseur
He has eaten sushi in Tokyo, yebeg tibs in Mogadishu, lamb ravioli in Venice, a monkey’s brains in a small village in the south of Congo, bison steak in Calgary. The meal that will never leave him, though, the highlight, the culinary experience he will take to his grave, was a slice of roast from the rump of a young man in Wisconsin. He was no killer, he wouldn’t dream of it. But...
June 2009
8 posts
I Went for a Walk
This city, he loves me. The way he talks, in siren’s songs, thumping music, illucid words over illicit acts; he speaks in the poetry of Big Town, and I find myself swaying to his rhythm.
Hey. Got a light? Sorry, don’t smoke. Got some change? Sorry, I don’t. Need a bag? I’ll be alright. Looking for fun? Thanks, not tonight.
I swagger with the timing of it. I’m most...
Meagan Wrote Me a Sonnet
I got a random phone call today from Meagan. She’s out living in Peterborough now. She told me to check my e-mail in a few moments, and when I did, I found this:
Although from far apart we may have sought
Orion, and the Bear, and seen alike,
What comfort could I draw from such a thought?
The stars give only warmthless, pinprick light.
Nor moon, desiring constant wax and wane,
With...
“My work isn’t real unless I show it to you.”
– Jerry Holkins
Voyage Century
This is the first game review I’ve done in quite a while on the blog. The most recent one was the digital “toy” MyBrute. Today I’m going to talk about a free MMORPG called Voyage Century, which may be the best FMMO I’ve ever played. And I really like FMMOs.
The model is pretty basic. You have a character that represents yourself within the context of the game. This...
How I Lost My Shoe
A chilled October morning, and the bus is late. I am late for an Economics class, a fact that doesn’t hurt my feelings at all. The professor has done little more than parrot capitalist rhetoric for the last month and a half, and while I respect capitalism as an idea, I have difficulty agreeing with the principle. I wish I lived in Sweden. When the bus finally comes, it’s packed with people,...
Sleep-Deprived Writings
Before dawn, the bombing starts. Far off, the sound of thunder, the low rumble of mortar fire from miles away. As the tanks come nearer, so does the noise. No longer the throb of a distant drum, it cracks in the air, followed by the screams.
These are not screams of pain. They are the otherwordly wails of mothers whose children have been torn from thier arms. They are a different sort of pain....
May 2009
16 posts
“I can’t remember how to write.”
– There are stories in my head, but they don’t want to live on paper.
Vignette 11
Jess hasn’t slept well for months. She goes to bed at the same time every night (just past one in the morning), she gets up at nine. She rolls around on her mattress though, glaring at the clock every hour or so, thinking “If I fall asleep _right now_ I’ll get so many hours of sleep.” She’s never fallen asleep _right now_. She’s certain there’s a trick...
Getting to Know Tumbloggers
Name: Kris
Nickname: Monkey
Tumblr Name: SlurpeeMoney
Age: 27
Birthday: March 3, 1982 Pisces
Location: Edmonton Alberta, Canada
Current School/Job: Games Manager at Warp One Comics and Games
High School: William E. Hay Composite High
Status: Polyamorous; I maintain multiple relationships at once, so I’m rarely single.
Hobbies/Interests: Writing, Reading, Comics, Games (Computer,...
Vignette 10
I Like My Coffee Like I Like My Hamsters
Every few seconds a hamster jumps from its espresso cup, and Dave scrambles after it, putting it back in the cup, and turning to find the next one scampering across the countertop.
“Why do you have hamsters on the coffee bar?” James asks, wrapping an apron around his waist.
“I’m trying to get a cute picture of hamsters in espresso cups,” Dave replies....
Vignette 9
Neighbor.
“You are not alone.”
The words are writ small and straight across a yellow post-it note on his door. He’s been staring at it for five minutes, completely unsure what to make of it. Down the hall, a door opens and James’ neighbor steps out, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. James takes the note, unlocks the door and when he’s safely on the other side, locks the deadbolt and hooks...
I Used to Write Poetry
When I was fifteen, I fancied myself something of a poet. I even went so far as to put my poems on the internet. Below, you will find a fine example of why I no longer do any such thing.
Pushing Me Ever On
Wizened oak in sadness bowed, Shattered limbs which once grew proud, The scream of wind grows ever loud, Pushing me ever on. Life and death go hand in hand, A lively orchestra, deadly...
Vignette 8
She has a theory about why men’s and women’s clothes button on the opposite sides. She heard it at a poetry slam. She says “It’s so that they can face each other when they’re getting dressed.
“That’s silly,” I tell her. “We get dressed facing eachother.”
“Yeah,” she says. “It’s just another example of how...
“A little library, growing larger every year, is an honourable part of a...”
– Henry Ward Beecher
Garfunkel and Oates, As You Are
This song was...
Vignette 7
I like you…
She sees him limned against the tall windows of the hotel room, staring at the glowing city below. His arms raised at his sides, pressed against the window frame, he looks crucified, and her heart aches for him. Still dripping from the shower, she goes to him, feeling the strength in his abdomen and the soft spaces between his ribs.
She knows he’s leaving. He’s...
Vignette 6
The city seems bigger at night. During the day, when all the hubbub is around you, and you can take in the scents of saffron and taragon along the streets, when the sun beats down like a wet whip on the back of your neck, the city presses in, is impressive in its oppresiveness. At night, though, it shines. Needles of concrete and glass rise up along the skyline and from here, way above the...
Vignette 5
A Dirty Goddess on 99th and Whyte
I see her for the first time in years on Whyte Ave. The last time I saw her was in a small room in Montreal that smelled like cigarette smoke, Indian food and pain. She’d been sleeping, naked and wrapped up in my sheets the day I left and never came back.
She’s a wreck now. Her eyes are dark, her face too thin and stained with dirt from nights on...
inspire me
Come on. Seriously, how long do I have to sit at my computer staring at pictures and clips of text before a couple of ideas bash into each other and I have something good for a story or a vignette or… Anything. I want to draft, but I’m brainstorming. I could go back to a story I’ve already written (like that one in my previous post) but that seems like cheating somehow. I want to...
Digital Swine Flu and Creativity
I wrote a story a couple of days ago. It was about an old man finding a piece of graffiti on a wall, and the disturbing feelings he took away from that discovery. It was a young man who looking at that wall and finding an opportunity to create beauty. It was about the struggle between the young and the old, the generation gap that makes people think so differently about the same things. It was...
April 2009
15 posts
Vignette 4
The path that they took led up through the high passes of Melnidrae, where the air grew thin and the ice mephits played. They were tired, hungry, sore and afraid. At any moment, the ljosalfar legions could sweep down onto them; none who had seen the Melnidrae ljos had lived to tell the tale of it. Only the second-hand tales told by the alfar who traded with them betrayed their existence.
It...
Vignette 3
Of Keys, Locks and Writer’s Block
There is a key on the ground. There are no locks around in which the key could possibly fit. A gold chain runs through the ornate head, broken near the clasp. It has fallen from someone’s neck, discarded to the moss and clover. Sunlight glances off it, now, and for itself, it is prescious.
Archie decides it is the key to his mind. He picks it up,...
Vignette 2
In the grass by the evergreen windbreak to the east, a clock-tower. Its construction is curved; the tower weaves left and right like a child’s drawing of water. The clock itself is faced on a background of stars, set in an irregular frame and topped with a cherub in contemplation. A small guitar springs from the grass next to the angel.
The whole thing is possessed of strange curlicues...
Vignette 1
He started walking. Long stretches of desert road lay far behind and way ahead. An endless sea of rock and sand and parched scrub grass yawned on either side of him. The sun baked him, the car, the woman leaning against the car, and the desert all the same.
He was not wearing sensible shoes for a long hike. They were polished and black and padded his sole like a plank of wood might. His slacks...
Midnight
It’s midnight and I’m not the least bit tired. For the past while I’ve been staying up well past four in the morning, and I’ve got a fair amount of caffiene in my system. I tried to write on a pad of paper today, but I’m finding myself less and less capable of putting words on dead trees. There’s nothing moral about it; I just find typing more convenient....
“I have a facecrotch story, come to think of it…”
– ~Ian Lauder, Warp One, 2009
Edmonton Sings
The city sang to me tonight, a strange song of high-pitched whines and shuddering thumps, a song about homeless people and car engines trying to out-sound one another, a song about the city itself and everything in it.
The longer I live here, the more I understand that Edmonton is a very stereotypically masculine city. It’s a big, tough, oil-drilling alpha male. Money and things mean more...
Story Theft and Other Nasty Business
I’m sick today. I’ve been sick for a while, and in a bad mood longer. I’m not sure exactly what’s got me in a funk; I assume it’s a collection of things. I want to take a break, a little vacation from my life where I can do a whole bunch of nothing for a while.
My buddy Kieran wrote a story the other day that didn’t suck. He was asking for some feedback on it,...
I walk home in the rain.
I’ve got a borrowed umbrella and a stolen shirt,
Less than a dollar in change in my pocket.
There are shoes on my feet.
I am fortunate.
Marriage
This is a post about my personal life. If you hate my personal life (and many people do), don’t read it. ^_^
My good friend Calvin posted a note on Facebook the other day, and it was all about why women lose interest in men. The note is pretty good. If he gets me a link to some non-Facebook source, I’ll post it here. I didn’t so much want to reply to the note so much as a...
“It takes courage to be boring five days a week on TV.”
– Jim Lehrer
The Failings of Bran
Greg Says:
Are you scooping handfuls of bran into your mouth?
Kris Says:
I am. And the experience is less than amazing. I am wishing, quite fervently, that the bran was in fact shaped like a honey comb.
Or perhaps a simpler shape, like a loop. A loop of fruit, perhaps.
Greg Says:
Fruit loops would have been pretty awesome. You need to have something with "Zing" Bran just seems like a low grade cereal-you-eat-with-your-hand choice.
Kris Says:
At the time of purchase, it seemed practical. I was buying an economy cereal. No more! If it does not come in a geometric shape better suited to grabbing and shovelling into my mouth wholesale, it will not exist in my cupboards!
5 tags
Writer's Block
I have a writer’s block. I think that when people talk about writer’s block, they do it incorrectly. They suggest that writer’s block is a thing that a person can have temporarilly, and that’s really not the case. Writer’s block is like arthritis; it comes and it goes, but you always have it hovering at the edges of your consciousness.
I listened to a recording today...
MyBrute →
My Brute
So I was on Facebook earlier today, and I noticed one of my friends had a link to something “Awesome” in their status, so I figured I’d give it a try. The “Awesome” link led to a game, called My Brute, and it requested that I make a little avatar dude to challenge my friend. I did, and became instantly hooked with its simplistic gameplay…
Wait, did I say...
March 2009
10 posts
An Incinerator and a Big Smoke Stack
So I was walking home from a party at Andre’s, and JP gave me a second cigarello to smoke along the way. I’m not one to turn down free anything, so I took one and started walking from Checker’s Pizza to my place. I ran into a problem around O’Byrns; I realized that my smoke was going to last far longer than the block. So I walked an extra block, down around the...
“Someone asked where the horses came from in Manhattan . It seemed like an odd...”
– Christopher Walken
“Dearest Money,
Having the most wonderful time.
Wish you were here.
Love to...”
– Kris Hansen, riffing on the Algonquin Round Table
I Love Customers
Greg says:
Oh work story and 40 year old lady came in and ask me to play WoW with her.
Kris says:
Fucking sweet. Is she on your server?
Greg says:
I thought it was a little odd. She asked me to transfer to her server, then offered to pay for it.
Kris says:
You get the best customers, man. I never get anyone that weird.
Greg says:
Man you get some bizarre ones.
Tumblr
I have this funny feeling that tumblr is going to be a lot like the other blogs I’ve had. I have one, Glitterdust, that has been gathering… dust… for a long while now. Warp One’s blog has been terribly neglected for the past while, since I haven’t actually been playing much in the way of “popular” games. I’ve been playing the A Game of Thrones LCG...