FREE SPEECH: July 2023
ONE WORD AT A TIME!
The Big Days
1stMy Days – July 2023
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
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The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 7. Spiral of Memories
The Stairs
Lindsay, after being fired at age sixty by a company using the pandemic as cover to replace him with a younger and cheaper model, trips nightly into an all-too-real nightmare and must slay the demons from his past to survive. … … Sounds intense. It is. Without a doubt, it will become the most magnificent manuscript ever written! Whirley? Yes. Writing is an excellent teacher, up there or on the previous page; okay, somewhere before, I originally called cinnamon, a, herb. It’s a spice, Whirley. It’s a spice. I learned something new. Did I tell you about when I learned cows are female by listening to sports talk radio? I wonder if Corrie, myself, and Wes have the same father. I wonder if Corrie, myself, and Wes have the same father. Hey, I wonder that as well. Nah. || More to come...
I want to make a difference in this world!
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Echo & The Bunnymen - People Are Strange
The Postman's Sisters + Happy Canada Day (LW Art)
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2ndMy Days – July 2023
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
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Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 7. Spiral of Memories
After a moment or two of rest, our eyes crack open; of course, Whirley’s eyes are in her center, hence, the eye of the storm. Whirley asks me if I had a good sleep. I ask her what sleep is and then tell her I’m finding it increasingly difficult to find the good in a world polluted by noise.
I hear bacon crackling on the griddle. The smell is intoxicating. Whirley is firing it up for breakfast. A man in his thirties wins $70 million in the lottery and announces he’s spending the winnings on organic lube. I love this man; he didn’t say he was going on a trip or going to buy a fucking truck. We walk and whirl another block. We are passing a man sitting on the sidewalk. He looks defeated. He’s barking at passersby. He doesn’t want money. He just wants someone to talk to. He doesn’t want to feel alone. I walk past, trying to block him out of my vision, easy to do because he’s on my left, my blind-eye side. Something in his voice grinds into me. I hit the brakes, turned, and looked his way. I see a man in his thirties who has lost the life lottery. He looks shattered, like the eggshells Whirley cracked for our breakfast feast. I stop. I return to him. I introduce myself. He tells me he’s Brandon. Brandon reaches for my hand and gives it a firm shake. He tells me nobody cares; he’s invisible. I tell him I’m sorry to hear that. I then add, don’t take people ignoring you too hard; people everywhere are struggling and just don’t know what to say; many of us are trying to figure out who we are. Brandon continues; he says he gave four years to a country that hates him. I’m guessing military service. Brandon’s eyes paint a high or drunk picture. I’m not sure if that’s right. I tell Brandon I hope what you are feeling passes. I ask him if he has family. I know the answer. I tell him I know what that’s like, adding that I could never fully understand your pain because I’m not you, and I haven’t been with you on your journey through life. He looks like he is going to cry. I tell him I must go, shake his hand again, and say, I am giving you, my strength. Am I strong? I hope I did the right thing. He thanked me. I walk away. As I strolled away, I remembered the lottery winner also saying, fuck the credit card companies; they can sue me for what I’m not going to pay. A racist is standing on the street corner, chanting white is being changed too fast, as if slower immigration would make him less racist. I relay the previous stories to my bartender friend Andrew, who once dressed up as Sparkly Pingle Ball. One day you will meet Sparkly Pingle Ball. Andrew doesn’t like when people say he has a nice bum because his partner is homeless. I ask Andrew why he didn’t let Lloyd, his partner, move in with him. I suggest by keeping Lloyd on the street; he’s not being a nice ass. Why is this in this story? Because the keyboard keys fell under my fingers. I thank Whirley for the thoughtfulness of asking me what I wanted from life; asking him the same question. Whirley says he wants his parents, relatives, and every one of their ilk: typhoons, hurricanes, tropical depressions, blizzards, tornadoes, ocean squalls, atmospheric rivers, and artic zephyrs to calm the fuck down. Whirley says he wants that because when these storms rinse the sky, with torrents of wind and watery rage, decimating everything in their path in waves of violence, they mostly destroy those already suffering, the most vulnerable—in their misguided wake. I tell Whirley, I get it. || More to come...
I want to make a difference in this world!
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With A Little Luck
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3rdMy Days – July 2023
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
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Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 7. Spiral of Memories
We keep walking. Laughter spills from jam-packed bars. A homeless man shouts at a passerby, quit fucking saying sorry, sorry doesn’t help. Thoughts and prayers.
In the distance, the rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire erases the silence of the night. This is our world. I wonder what happened to the day; only a moment ago, the bacon was crackling. I glance to my left, a ghost shambles through the walls of a nightclub. 16 Pounds of Ice Left I can’t fucking sleep. It’s been months since my life became an open casket, with my bed haunting me in waking dreams. I want this to end. What is it like being fired at sixty? How am I ever going to make it when I don’t even know what make it is, and with every step I take, I think it could be my last? The toll of being fired at sixty is like carrying the weight of one hundred lifetimes on atrophied shoulders. I fear a day will come when I can no longer hide inside the laughter of my suffering. I prefer to whine about rain. I want to close my fucking eyes and wake up; with my thoughts and prayers finally answered. I want to feel less guilty when I masturbate. I don’t masturbate. I gave it up long ago. The summer heat beats down. Stray snowflakes drift through the heat of the day. Why is it snowing? A topless goddess tosses men wearing rugby pants off the roof of a parking garage. Where are we? A raptor flies by. Its talons are so sharp I don’t feel them when they pierce my skin. My life oozes out of me like another bite of a burger. I need to eat vegetables. I will. Whirley and I come across a car sitting alongside a country road next to a massive cornfield. The car’s passenger door is agape. The windshield and front end is smashed. The airbags are deployed. The driver’s airbag is full of popcorn. Nobody is inside the car. No other vehicle is in sight. Why is it here? We are hundreds of miles from anywhere. We hear music in the distance. It’s emanating through the field. Whirley and I dive into the corn. Mazing our way through its labyrinth. Chasing the music. I think it’s Tom Petty. No. It’s ELO—Turn to Stone. Whirley and I dart this way and that way. The cornfield is never-ending. We dart this way and that way again. We come across decaying corpses. A father, mother, two children, a family? The smell emanating from their bodies reeks of crushed insects and sardines. Whirley and I fear for our lives. We dart this way and that way once more, chasing ELO which has now morphed into Running on Empty. Will we? After an hour, of this and that way, we are back at the decaying grave. I cry. Life has become a library of books in an indecipherable language. I only speak English. And I can say butterfly in several languages. A useless skill. The music fades. Why bother making music when silence is so much more significant? Why make light when the darkness eventually snuffs it out, like pinching the flames of a candle between two fingers? We are about to expire. But just before our demise, we can faintly hear The Last Resort by the Eagles serenading us. Whirley says she can save us. There’s one catch: it takes so much energy she might expire. I plead no, but Whirley won’t have it—she takes the most massive breath imaginable. Holds it tight in her lungs. You can see her veins pulsing, about to burst, about to… If she’s gone, her cooling breeze will no longer comfort us on the hottest days. Whirley sucks in more air and releases. The corn folds over like dominoes collapsing. The music becomes louder. Do You Think I’m Sexy? The decaying corpses are now resting under the corn. The horizon opens. Teenagers are drinking, dancing, and cavorting in an open field, and hundreds of cars are parked alongside the area. Marauders, Souls, Trojans, Bears, Cowboys, Crusaders, and Mustangs are all gathered where teenagers gather to hook up. A high school awakening. It’s 1979. I’m there with Carol K. I run to nineteen-year-old me. He can’t see me. Hey, is that Tina Fork, Carol G, and Velvet Moss? I’m kissing Carol K. Little did I know, later that night, Carol would dump me because she thought I was too insecure. || More to come...
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
The Duck Song
Morgan + Mindy In Love + LW Art +
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4thMy Days – July 2023
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
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Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 7. Spiral of Memories
Linds, how did you and Carol hook up?
Whirley, see the conveyor belt over there. If we hop onto it, we can return in time, and I will unpack the backstory that brought us here. Would you like that? I'd like that. I like that you like that. I would like that. What does that make me? I think there needs to be a name for it. Hmm… Let's go down this escalator here. There is a decent food court one floor below, and I'm famished. After court, can we jump on the conveyor? Sure. Taco Time? Sure. Let's sit. A young Asian guy is walking with a limp; it appears he also has a cleft palate. He sits down at the table next to me. A man a few tables from him springs into action. He approaches the Asian fellow. Hey, do you want me to heal you? The Asian man looks dumbfounded. I don't like the word dumbfounded. The Asian man looks flabbergasted. That's better. I have the healing powers of Christ in me. Would you like me to heal you? I'm good, the Asian man says. You don't want me to heal you? Christ has given me the gift. I want the man to shut up because he is being fucking rude. And besides, you have the fucking healing powers of Christ. Hmm… you suck at your job. He finally gets the hint he's being vulgar and offensive. Okay, he didn't get it; he just tired out. I want to punch the lord out of him. He goes back to his table and starts chanting. Whirley, would you like a little hot sauce on your burrito? Mr. Preacher gets up again. He walks toward me. He screams at me, asking if I need him to save and pray for me. I don't answer. He turns and accosts a ginger-haired man sitting directly in front of me. Do you need some saving and praying? He asks. The ginger-haired man shakes his head 'no.' Mr. Preacher looks at the ginger-haired man and says, You look like Ed Sheeran. Last bite. Let's ride the escalator up and catch the conveyor belt to the past. Then, fire up the Delorean, Whirley. 38 Bonus Points! || More to come...
I want to make a difference in this world!
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Candy Mountain: Part 1
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5thMy Days – July 2023
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
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Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 7. Spiral of Memories
Jump Whirley. Jump, get onto the conveyor.
Where are we going? What year? Not too far, we're flying back to 1969. Dad is running a garage and is a mechanic working on heavy equipment. Mum runs a diner and; we live in a house attached to the garage and cafe. Dad's hand gets sucked into the gears of a machine, crushing it beyond recognition. So, we are about to be tossed down society's class ladder. Being poor sucks. It affects everything in life, from what you eat to the medical attention you receive to the school you attend, creating habits we carry with us through life. The wealthy want to close the door to their club by using politicians to blame others instead of speaking the truth about greed. Little did I know, one day, I would work for a company that justified holding people down by paying them as little as possible, justifying their oppression by saying when they pay people what they're owed, they will use the extra money on drugs. They convinced themselves they were doing the workers a favour by keeping one foot on their heads and keeping them poor. Do homeless people post cleaning schedules on trees? Do homeless people sneak inside to litter? Operation. Operation. Operation. Operation. Rehab. A forced to move into subsidized housing. New friends. Sturby Place. A training ground for the poor. During a rehab weekend in Regina (we lived in Saskatoon), on the way back to the hotel from the clinic, Dad is jumped by three men and beaten senseless. More rehab, Mum is being forced into bringing home the bacon—Mum is an angel. When dad has healed enough, he buys a car he can't afford. Mum is outraged. Dad returns to work as a commissionaire at the airport—jobs are given to veterans of the war. We are moving on up. In 1971, my parents bought a $14,000 house in Sutherland. Sutherland is on the wrong side of the tracks, however, slightly up the ladder from subsidizing. I need to make new friends. What does any of this have to do with Carol K, Linds? I'm getting there. I don't know why Carol is getting this many pages because, if I remember correctly, we only dated for a couple of hours. I was one of the few kids in Saskatchewan who didn't play hockey. We couldn't afford skates. I looked out our window. Chris T + Tony G + Jim E + Bernie H + Jack A + Shawn M + Murray L + Craig S are playing street hockey in front of our home on the freshly frozen street. I asked if I could play. Tony G is the star. The best way to fit in is to out-star him. I blast my way up and down the street, netting goal after goal until the 'next goal wins' is shouted—and that is what I did. Although a little pissed, Tony welcomed me into his family, where we quickly became best friends. Little did we know, when I'd be in Grade 12 and Tony in Grade 10, the two of us would lead our High School football team to City and Provincial Championships. Go, souls! I became a fixture in the G home. Mrs. G was the mother every young boy loved. Mr. G was a hard-living construction man with a wicked sense of humour. Tony's younger sister, Carol G, was a rebellious stunner; guys were trying to get on her dance card. The G family didn't live across the alley from our home. They lived across the street from the house, across the alley from our home—a home that became a shortcut to get to my home away from home. A home where I spent most of my time. A home where I ate most of my dinners. A home that made me feel like I was one of them. I loved the G family. It was through Carol G that I met Tina Fork that I met Carol K because they were all great friends. Through Tony G, I met my Grad date, Wanda W. Wanda was the best friend to Tony's girlfriend Jodi, and the girl puberty was having me pine for. And pine, I did. And lecture And preach the evils of tobacco, weed, MDMA and coffee. My social circle, although large and odd, stayed at a manageable number because when my high school classmates rushed to Smitty's during spare periods saying they were going for coffee—I didn't drink coffee. Nobody told me you could order something else. I may have been caffeine stunted but being stunted allowed me to learn how to interact with people individually. I fit in everywhere while not fitting in at all. Funny wins. I was, am, funny. Laugh. Wanda, will you go to grad with me? Wanda said yes, love was about to blossom. Dad allowed me to take our ninety-eight-foot-long Oldsmobile 98 for the night. In front of Wanda's house, it broke down. Our night of bliss had been cancelled. We hitched a ride with Wanda's brother, my classmate, Jody. Later that night, Wanda blew smoke in my face at a grad afterparty. I cried and walked home. That was the end of Wanda and my love. Whirley, we will briefly get back together when Tony and Jodi tie the not a few years up the belt. I was heartbroken. I retreated to the G house. Carol G's friend Carol K was over. Carol was a proficient rebounder. She yanked me down off the boards and watched me cry until she dumped me in the field because of my insecurity issues. I don't remember my parents ever asking me why I was never home for dinner. Jim E, tells a lie. Jim E, tells a lie. Infinity. Tony is my best friend; however, Bernie is my best friend and Craig S is my best friend, and even… Jim E, tells a lie. …is my best friend. Here comes Greg C and Colin C, not related; the letters of their surnames are different. Greg C loves Carol. Colin C loves, probably, if there was a girl at school named Olivia, would love Olivia. Tina is upset. Carol G is with Greg C, and I'm with Carol K. Tina wants Carol and Carol to do MDMA. I lecture them. Little did I know, 30 years later, I was going to spend ten years of my life every Saturday Night doing molly in an After-Hours Club where at the end of the night or morning, I would search for something to do with my erection. Greg liked to drink. We are racing down the main street in Sutherland in Greg's cool station wagon. A car in front of us is stopped in the middle of the road. Greg is going 40 miles per hour. He's talking to me. He doesn't use the brakes. Upon impact, he instinctively thrust his arm across my seat to save me from the damage. I'm under the dashboard. Greg's car is destroyed. We survive. A few weeks later, Greg G is pulled over by the police while he is drunk out of his mind. With Greg G stuffed in the back of the patrol car, Colin C jumps on the hood of the police car, shouting, “Let him go. Some say he's from mars. Or one of the seven stars that shine brightly at three-thirty in the morning.” Well, he isn't. 745 Bonus Points! || More to come...
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Charlie the Unicorn 2
Vancouver Art Gallery + LW Art
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6thMy Days – July 2023
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
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Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 7. Spiral of Memories
One week later, at the Cave Restaurant, a restaurant ensconced in a cave-like design. Anyway, the server asks Colin if he'd like something to drink?
Colin is 15. Colin orders a beer. The server won't serve him. Colin doesn't mind. He tells the server he brought his own, pulls out a twelve-pack, and guzzles three. Greg and Colin grow tiresome as friends. I'm becoming a football star (in my mind) and a football star. I date an Olympian, Gwen, and a Canadian National Team, field hockey team member, Sharon. Not at the same time. Karen M. I occasionally strip naked and run from our front step to the sidewalk in front of our house while sporting an erection. Is that true, or did my fingers just make it up? Hmm… I'm becoming a football star. I'm a city and provincial and national champion. Life is good. I'm popular. Really popular. Why? Because I can type. And with popularity, I no longer have to run naked in front of my house on hot, steamy nights. I have to pee now. Jay is in the washroom. I'll hold it. What other option do you have? Jay, are you in the washroom? I got to pee. Jay tells me to go pee. Hold on; I'll be right back. I peed. How was the flow? Steady. That's good. Year two of football. I'm cut from the team. A team in Edmonton recruits me. When I'm leaving home… The G's? No. …my home for the first time. My parents tell me not to burden my aunt and uncle, Priscilla, and Roy. I lived for a week in my car in the Sherwood Park Mall parking lot. I fall in love with Lori G, not part of the G family, but a part of another G family. Greg G is her brother and my number one receiving target on the football team. I introduce Tony G to Lori G. Tony is on a break from Jodi, and he tries to steal her from me. Tony G + Lori and me + and Lori's super hot, religious girlfriend, go to the movie Halloween. We kiss after. A super hot religious kiss. With tongue. I'm going to hell. The godly girl and I don't work out because I was born where children were expendable, a home run by super religious people. And because, we don’t go to the asylum together. I throw the longest touchdown pass in Canadian Junior Football League history. 108 yards to Grant Bolstad. Wow! Did you throw it that far? I threw it 70 yards. Does the record still stand? As long as I don’t Google it, it does. That night to celebrate, we stole all the hole flags from a posh golf course. Why? I dated Patti, the coach's daughter of the Saskatoon Blades. Tony tried to steal her from me. Come to think of it, why was Tony my best friend? Jim E drinks 32 double rum and cokes at a nightclub, backs into three cars in the club's parking lot and then loses control of his car, taking out a light standard and the fence of a house. He flees the scene running home. It’s -30 Celsius. The next day, Tony called me; you must tell them you were driving; he tells me. What? Tell the police you were driving? Ice? 10 pounds left. We'll go to the police station. Jim tells the officer I was driving him home because he was too drunk. He told the officer I got out of the car and chased after the vehicle that cut us off on foot. Tony just shakes his head, yes. The officer asks Jim why either of us didn't stay at the scene? I'm standing beside Jim. Jim says I probably had run so far, I decided to just go home. I lived four miles from the accident scene. Jim tells the officer he was tired, so he just went home. Somehow this works. || More to come...
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Charlie the Unicorn 3
Natural Beauty + A Scared Boy (LW Art)
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
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7thMy Days – July 2023
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
![]()
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Lindsay, fired at sixty, faces a recurring nightmare where he battles his inner demons. His former employer used the pandemic as an excuse to replace him with a younger, less expensive alternative. Each night, Lindsay is plunged into a world of terror where he must confront his past to survive. But as he fights off the demons, he begins to understand that he has the strength to overcome his fears and emerge victorious. Ultimately, he emerges from his nightmare stronger and more determined than ever before.
The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 7. Spiral of Memories
I tried out for the University of Saskatchewan Football team as a walk-on at a Field House Practice Session in January. I make the team because of my rocket arm.
You had a rocket arm? Whirley, not a rocket, but a rocket arm. Oh. I meet Corrie. We click. After one date, we will never see each other again. One night at Slider’s Nightclub, I'm out with my new teammate and best friend, Darryl. Corrie is there. She calls me a pig dog because I didn't call her. I told her I didn't know her last name and that I'd been going through the phone book, calling every number, and asking if she lived there? I'm in the D's now. Somehow this works. I now have new friends, Darryl W, Barb G, Kleo, Flouff, Jeffbo, Kirk, Wes (Corrie's Sister), Caroline, Tammy, plus far too many more to list here. Life is grand. My dad is losing his mind. I'm driving mum and dad to work and picking them up most days. I’m twenty-three. I eat every meal at Corrie's house. I'm the best man at Tony's wedding. I'm the best man at several other weddings. I run naked with an erection. I'm popular. And then, the Big Fucking C kicks our door in looking for my father. 5 Pounds. || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Charlie the Unicorn 4
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8thMy Days – July 2023
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
![]()
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Lindsay, fired at sixty, faces a recurring nightmare where he battles his inner demons. His former employer used the pandemic as an excuse to replace him with a younger, less expensive alternative. Each night, Lindsay is plunged into a world of terror where he must confront his past to survive. But as he fights off the demons, he begins to understand that he has the strength to overcome his fears and emerge victorious. Ultimately, he emerges from his nightmare stronger and more determined than ever before.
The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 7. Spiral of Memories
I leave the university after two years. In the trainer's room, before the last game of the year, I ask Ron D if he's ever scored a touchdown during his five years?
This is to be Ron's last game. He tells me no. To which I confidently reply, you will today. The coach puts me in with the clock winding down on the game and the season. On the last play, I fire a 32-yard laser into the end-zone corner, where Ron makes a spectacular diving catch. Touchdown. A movie has been made about this play. No, Jim, you are lying. 3 Pounds. Little did I know, in 2002, Ron would die a hero as he dove into a dugout to save two drowning boys. 2 Pounds. My life's reduced to a revolving door between the hospital and home. My dad was going to die. I escaped nightly to Corrie's house. I visited dad hundreds and hundreds of times in his medical prison. The best visits were when he was sleeping. For over six years, I said goodbye at least 500 times. I was living in denial. Corrie and my friends were my salvation. Jeffbo visited my mother on his own. Gord T did as well. This is the first mention of Gord T. As my father was dying, I was bringing people together, including Super Bowl Parties, golf trips, Skiing trips, and some, just trips. Dad was dying, and Mum was breaking. I taught my brother Brian how to drive. Our spirits soared on lucid days for my father; on the days he didn't know who he was, we sank into the depths of hell. Up. Down. Up. Down. Down. Down. Down. I turned 25. 1 pound. Dad had gone from 200 lbs of stubbornness to 80 pounds of gauntness. Jeffbo, Corrie, Barb, Kleo, the bumpkins Bernie, +++ went out with me to celebrate my birthday. We were really celebrating my dad's life. Lindsay, it's time? What? They're here. I glance over my shoulder; on the horizon, I see a tornado and hurricane moving our way, closely followed by an artic zephyr and a blizzard. Whirley's family. They want me to come home. Don't go, Whirley; I love you. I love you too. I can't make it without you. You can. You're resilient. You are a beautiful man, Lindsay. You can't go. I must. Don't cry, Linds. No. Linds, I must tell you one more thing? Yes. I changed my name from Gale to Whirley. It doesn't matter. Half a Pound. Whirley, you might think this is a work of nonfiction or memoir more than it is fiction. Maybe it is. But to sell it, I need to pitch it as fiction because unless you are a celebrity, it is far easier to sell, make-believe, than convince people you don't know to care about you when they likely don't even care for themselves. || More to come...
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9thMy Days – July 2023
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
![]()
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Lindsay, fired at sixty, faces a recurring nightmare where he battles his inner demons. His former employer used the pandemic as an excuse to replace him with a younger, less expensive alternative. Each night, Lindsay is plunged into a world of terror where he must confront his past to survive. But as he fights off the demons, he begins to understand that he has the strength to overcome his fears and emerge victorious. Ultimately, he emerges from his nightmare stronger and more determined than ever before.
The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 7. Spiral of Memories
One-Quarter Pound.
The New York Times says: The Stairs is a rollercoaster thrill ride destined to become an International Bestseller; if only the author was a celebrity, it would get its just rewards and become a Universal Bestseller. The Stairs is so surreal; the pages literally flip themselves. Three Ounces. Run. The up escalator is 300 yards away. Run. Whirley, I can't go on without you. Whirley's family bears down on Whirley. Run Two Ounces. Run. I won't make it. Lindsay, you are strong. Whirley, this feels like I was running to an escalator carrying a bomb with a short fuse. Run. Linds, you will be okay, I must return to my family and guilt them into being less destructive. Run. One ounce. Run. I love you. Whirley's voice shifts from silky to smouldering. With one final gasp, Whirley whispers I love you too, and in a flash, with thunder pounding all around us, Whirley's parents take Whirley into their vicious clutches, and spin him upward from the earth. Floating in the sky is a banner telling me to never give up, ride out the storm, and with one last wisp and a gentle caress, Whirley is gone, never to be seen again. I collapse onto the rungs of the escalator as it clacks upward. I close my eyes tightly. A cloud of thick dust is swirling in the air. I open my eyes and clean out the crusted dust; someone is standing on the platform I'm arriving at. 2010 I barely make out a glowing silhouette. Hello, who are you? I'm Jay Flip the page. The monsters are going to return. The Stairs is so surreal; the pages literally flip themselves. Would you like to come inside, Jay? || More to come...
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10thMy Days – July 2023
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
![]()
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Lindsay, fired at sixty, faces a recurring nightmare where he battles his inner demons. His former employer used the pandemic as an excuse to replace him with a younger, less expensive alternative. Each night, Lindsay is plunged into a world of terror where he must confront his past to survive. But as he fights off the demons, he begins to understand that he has the strength to overcome his fears and emerge victorious. Ultimately, he emerges from his nightmare stronger and more determined than ever before.
The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 8. Jay
I reach for Jay’s hand. Our fingers touch. The escalator jerks. I fall. I go tumbling downward →
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. OUCH. → 408 days. Every rotation, I shout out, Jay wait there, I’ll be back soon. || More to come...
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11thMy Days – July 2023
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
![]()
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Lindsay, fired at sixty, faces a recurring nightmare where he battles his inner demons. His former employer used the pandemic as an excuse to replace him with a younger, less expensive alternative. Each night, Lindsay is plunged into a world of terror where he must confront his past to survive. But as he fights off the demons, he begins to understand that he has the strength to overcome his fears and emerge victorious. Ultimately, he emerges from his nightmare stronger and more determined than ever before.
The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 8. Jay
I write a poem.
Three taps on the sky, the clouds break, a brilliant, radiant light burst forth, providing warmth, clarity, and understanding. A delicious blue yoke covers us all in omnipresent beauty, seen for the first time. An infinite number of questions have been asked, the answers are elusive. Time was simple, but clouds whisked simplicity away in a fast dance choreographed by confusion. Life, in all its intricacies—effortless but shrouded in the mystery of living—we complicate; our nature sees to that. Press play, and you ease into each day, turning corners that were never there before, around each bend is another challenge, brought forward in formula. The sky appears far off in the distance—we used to know our neighbours’ names—as we reach upward, their names become lost in illusion. With each step, the sky races into the heavens, breaking us—and what was once blue begins to turn grey. We bought it, the plan that is, and the plan, the formula, is flawed. It claimed equality when equality is only present in spirit. Another step, the stair fractures, but you keep climbing; you’re told you must. Some fall from the crumbling weight of the clouds, malingering in what could never be defeated, not good enough; or so they were told—soon to be shunned. Another question—the answer ducks behind the ambition. You climb higher as a red brick is laid upon black brick while life shoots for the skies soaring in the distance, bitterly souring the taste of the journey. You scream, believing you have figured everything out. You’re the chosen one, privy to the unanswerable questions. Another brick is laid as a thousand eyes look down in judgement from faceless transparent buildings scratching the now grey heavens above—you no longer know your neighbours’ names, bringing sadness instead of joy. The connection to humanity is lost; people clawing for the same slice of reality—the answers; become victims of the pursuit as blame replaces civility. Another blood-stained brick and those closest to blue fly past the ghettos below, often, and aptly, in the same buildings, many created by greed. Up is not the answer, yet; you want more; with each leap, dysfunction replaces sanity, and the pursuit you’ve been sold begins to fracture everything meaningful. Another day, what was once present has now vanished, growth and the race toward happiness masquerades before us subtracting purity; more meaning is discovered, and you realize abundance only exists in the matters of the heart. You accept limitations. The sorrow of letting go allows the weight of what never could be to lift. Another question, the answer; no longer critical, a smile breaks on your haggard face, you’ve cast desire to the side, allowing the essence to replace fear; the smile is infectious. Understanding life is not the answer, living it, might be. Another brick, the bricks are stacked so high they now replace the clouds; clouds that were never there, to begin with—you ask your neighbours’ names as they soar higher up the ladder, passing the now countless burning eyes looking upward; wanting what they don’t really have. Your neighbours’ smile back—you’ve given something priceless they have yet to discover. Another step, another smile, grey turns back to blue—you’re okay—maybe for the first time as judgement has been subtracted—only to be replaced with love. There is no need to be burdened; you reach the sky from far below, where the bricks start stretching into the heavens above. This time you tap the clouds only once—they open with ease, and love showers downward dropping pretence, letting love into our souls, for many, for the first time. || More to come...
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12thUp Next
My Days – July 2023
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
![]()
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Lindsay, fired at sixty, faces a recurring nightmare where he battles his inner demons. His former employer used the pandemic as an excuse to replace him with a younger, less expensive alternative. Each night, Lindsay is plunged into a world of terror where he must confront his past to survive. But as he fights off the demons, he begins to understand that he has the strength to overcome his fears and emerge victorious. Ultimately, he emerges from his nightmare stronger and more determined than ever before.
The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 8. Jay
1 1 1 1 1 1
Ritchie Friday, 13 March 2009 I lived this story. An infinite number of fucking monsters were about to strip away safety. I arrive at the watering home around eight. The pub is jumping. Ritchie Rich, a father of two is sixty-two years of age. He is my friend. He’s everyone’s friend. This evening is celebrating his retirement. Hey, I’m sixty-two now. I hope I don’t ever run into the asshole I’m about to mention. Shawn Woodward is a thirty-five-year-old monster, short in stature, sturdy in build. Little did Ritchie know this monster was going to end his life. Ritchie and Woodward were playing pool. I’m talking with 2G, Tim K and Binh. I’m facing the pool table. My good eye is drawn to the pool table. Smash. Woodward smashed Ritchie in the face. Ritchie dropped like a board hammering his head into the tiling at the pub’s entranceway. A sickening thud echoed throughout the bar. Ritchie was struggling to hold onto life. Woodward casually stepped over him and casually walked down the street as if his job was complete. Scotty, the Manager, I and JVR chased him down the street stopping him about 50 yards from the pub’s entrance. I was in control but losing my mind. I grabbed Woodward by the belt loops barking at him why? He’s a faggot. He deserved it. He’s a faggot. He deserved it. The faggot touched me. He deserved it. Hit me, I screamed at Woodward. He cowered. I tossed his hat over the fence and said hit me. He wouldn’t. I screeched at Woodward you just killed a man in his sixties. Woodward smugly replied, He’s not in his sixties. Scotty told me to calm down. I spun in circles. Ritchie didn’t die on this night. He died two years later. I visited him regularly in the hospital, and at the care facility he was sent to. He never regained his mind. He didn’t know who I was. He tried to get me to sell his juice box on the open market. I could go into great detail here, but you will find the entire story in my non-fiction memoir Glue which is a follow-up to my memoir Lindsay. So, here in this fiction version of a true story that I promise to be true, I will summarize. If Woodward would have hit me, I suppose, I would have gone to jail. The bouncers from a club across the street came running to our aid, removing Woodward from my anger. When I walked back into the pub, Woodward’s friend looked at me and said, “He sure packs a powerful punch, doesn’t he.” I wish I would have gone to jail. Back inside the pub, Scotty told me I scared him. And I asked John G, if I should bring this story to the attention of the media. He said yes. A media firestorm ensued. With me being the poster boy for gay. Interviews on radio, print, and television. Nobody stopped to ask me if I was gay. A rally was planned: Enough is Enough – Stop the Hate. I was asked to speak alongside dignitaries. I did. I was nervous. A crowd of 5,000 had gathered. Covered locally and internationally? Back at the pub afterward, John G told me I had failed, I didn’t talk enough about him. For the next nine months I couldn’t walk down the street without being called a hero or faggot. For nine months. By people I’ve never met. Nobody asked me about my sexuality. Enough is Enough Thirteen years later, there is woman on a bullhorn shouting at children (coming soon) and a mass shooting at a Colorado gay bar. Thoughts and fucking prayers. Run from the monsters. The gay community wanted ownership of the story. So did the Football Fan World. Ritchie was an avid BC Lions supporter. The gay community railed against monsters coming into safe spaces. The Football Fan World tried to portray Ritchie as a ladies man. And then pretended they don’t care if he’s gay or not, they’d never shower with him. Even going as far as one of them comparing gays to black people saying when you see enough of them, you get used to it. This is non-fiction in a fiction book. A monster runs by. I visit. Visit. Visit. Visit. And then → RJ a doctor → tries to block me from visiting claiming I’m doing it to up my profile in the gay world. RJ is, or was, a cocaine snorting doctor who liked to brag about his cock size and about fucking one more woman than his father. Nobody else except for Ritchie’s family and one person from Football Fan World was visiting Ritchie. The family didn’t listen to RJ. Ritchie’s mother, who was now in her nineties was battling to come to terms with her son maybe being gay. I didn’t understand. I tried. When I went to work, some of my workers asked me if I was seeing my gynecologist? Other coworkers, told me what the defense was saying on TV without asking me, who was standing next to them. Run. My cat Fuzzy Nose and Toes is dying. Here’s the poem I wrote and read at the rally. I need to make it to Jay. I don’t like reliving this. It’s important. I read Online articles. I’m either a hero or a faggot, and some people say they are tired of seeing my ugly face and hearing my whining voice. Here’s the poem I wrote and read at the rally. We must be the voice for those who’ve screamed loudest, so loudly they can no longer find words. Their screams become deafening encrusted in silence. Silence brings peace—noise distracts to clarity. We must share our wings with those who have fallen. Broken by the weight of solitude and the pressure to be. Our wings must lift up, allowing the strength to fly again to be found; never losing sight, some aren’t meant to soar—our wings provide humility. We must provide light from the sight of one eye—our vision offers tranquillity as purpose becomes pure. Grace lay with ego in the darkness of shadows—masked as humble sharing spirit with calm. The shadows are draped in safety as darkness closes and then bursts into dawn. We must provide warmth to those burdened by cold—cold brings with it meaning; warmth comforts the soul. We must embrace who we are, believing the mystery of self will unfold in the simplicity of living. We must never allow the path to break—as we all bellow loudly; accepting our voice, wings, and light, will evolve into one. I wrote it while lying on a bench in an After-Hours Club. I may have been high on Ketamine at the time. My head floating in the air beside me recited it to me. I need to make it to Jay. I hope he’s waiting. Hero. Faggot. Hero. Faggot. Faggot. Faggot. Hero. Faggot. Hero. A Football Fan visits Ritchie, he tells the rest of the fans, Ritchie is flirting, hard, with the nurses. I visit Ritchie. He doesn’t know his name. He hands me an apple and asks me to sell it for him. Eventually, the case hits the courts. Woodward’s defense is the faggot touched me, he deserved it. It doesn’t work. His case is called a ‘Hate Crime.’ He’s given a six-year sentence. He’s out in two. Ritchie dies in two. || More to come...
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13thUp Next
My Days – July 2023
Lindsay Wincherauk, a middle-aged man, finds himself at a crossroads in his life. After being replaced by a cheaper employee at his long-time job, Lindsay is thrust into a deep pit of uncertainty and darkness. Struggling with the debilitating effects of Depression, he battles against the encroaching shadows that threaten to consume him.
Throughout the narrative, Lindsay's compassion, empathy, and kindness shine through. He combines his own fears with a desperate need to bring laughter and joy to the world. Lindsay strives to guide both himself and those around him out of the depths of darkness and into the light of hope. With his unique blend of humor, wit, and genuine understanding, Lindsay shows there is light at the end of the tunnel, and we all possess the strength to overcome our personal monsters. “My Days – July 2023” is a powerful and inspiring memoir/narrative fiction that delves into the depths of human struggles, offers a beacon of hope, and shows that even in the darkest moments, there is potential for light and redemption. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
![]()
The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Lindsay, fired at sixty, faces a recurring nightmare where he battles his inner demons. His former employer used the pandemic as an excuse to replace him with a younger, less expensive alternative. Each night, Lindsay is plunged into a world of terror where he must confront his past to survive. But as he fights off the demons, he begins to understand that he has the strength to overcome his fears and emerge victorious. Ultimately, he emerges from his nightmare stronger and more determined than ever before.
The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 8. Jay
And now for three Football Fan World Comments
Jay64 I grew up in a small town in the prairies, and I remember going down to the states as a child and gawking at all the black people because I had never seen any before... However, in my teen years I moved to Winnipeg and after awhile I got use to seeing black people and after a while longer, I never even noticed if a person was black or any other race for that matter. If you have never seen two men kiss or hold hands, it will make you a little squeamish... However, if you see it repeatedly over and over again, it does not seem anymore disgusting then when you see a man and a woman slobbering all over each other... ArgoDave Yeah, no sh*t, eh? It’s not like I’d ever take a shower with the guy... Is there hope? OrangeShoes99 ...There are some things I am certain of. Ritch knows his name, and when you say his name, he looks at you... ...Ritch smiled at me several times yesterday and is very active with the nurses. Every time they come in, he gets energy and gets excited. All in all, a great visit, and Ritch keeps making progress. Fuzzy Nose + Toes Fuzzy is dying. I love you Fuzzy. She wags her tail. I love you. She wags it again and begins faintly purring. I start to cry. Lyn Lindsay, can we go for a walk. I’m not well. I’ve had a stroke. Wednesday, 15 April 2009 Woodward’s court appearances were being delayed—to see if Ritchie would die. His defence lawyer screamed out. MY CLIENT IS SHOCKED AND EMBARRASSED. Thursday, 16 April 2009: At Work Lindsay, you know what everybody thinks you are? Jody, I don’t care what you think. Monday, 20 April 2009 For a moment, Ritchie’s eyes became crystal clear. I’m not doing very well. I feel very ill. I don’t want to live anymore. Ritchie Visit Thursday, 30 April 2009 His feeding tube was removed. He looked up at me and said. I think I must eat for my mum! Friday, 1 May 2009 Cameron and I met Ritchie’s ninety-year-old mother, and his cousin. Ritchie’s cousin took me aside to share thoughts. The media attention has been hard on her. She’s having trouble with the whole gay thing. His mother spoke. I’m not a young lady anymore. This added ten years. I’m staying alive. Carolyn cries all the time. Curtis is strong. Thank you for visiting. It is good that he has friends. As for the reports of the visits---I could no longer handle them; therefore, I entered their world. I created a moniker VanDusen and posted: Football Fan World VanDusen (May be my alias) ...what I’m going to share with you is not pleasant and is likely to be met with an unfavourable response. I have been a friend of Ritchie’s for many years now and have been fortunate to have been able to see him a handful of times in the last weeks; and my experience during my visits, although, somewhat encouraging, must be met with guarded optimism. Over the past ten days, I’ve seen very little if any improvement, and in my opinion, based upon his only words that were not jumbled, things are not hopeful. Yes, Ritchie can move one leg; however, the movement is involuntary, and therefore, the nurses place pillows around it to assure he does not hurt himself. During the visits, there is no recollection of who I am, and when words are used to prompt a response (Canucks, Lions, the names of several friends), he remains vacant. As for his weight, he must be down in the neighbourhood of 40+ pounds and if you do the math, he was only around 130 pounds to begin with-- I think it is crucial, as we must never lose sight of what Shawn Woodward has done to our friend-- Like said, in the times I’ve visited, I’m not seeing the same progress as the other visitor; I can’t even begin to fathom what it would be like to be trapped in your thoughts but not being able express what you are feeling. As for a positive visit, on April 30, I went alone, and for the first time in seven-weeks they had taken out his feeding tube and tried to feed him—it was resisted—when it was suggested he needs to eat to regain strength—ten-minutes later he asked to try to eat again, and I think he said, “I must eat for my mum.” I have now seen him on over twelve occasions. Every occasion, except one, they have been consistent. It is lovely that so many people are “posting” after hearing the news about his progress. I hate to be the bearer of bad news. The progress is slow. And the “bleeper” who did this to him has altered the life of many people forever; we must never lose sight of that fact. This is one of the hardest things I have ever typed—Ritchie will never be the same again—his family and friends will be left to deal with that, and whatever sickness prompted Shawn Woodward to do what he did—regardless of who Ritchie is, he’s an amazing man. He doesn’t deserve his friends to marginalize his existence by pretending he is flirting with the nurses. Saturday, 2 May 2009 OrangeShoes99 Well, I guess I should respond. I am sorry that your visits have not been encouraging. I have seen Ritch since he was nonresponsive and in a coma. I take offence to the fact you accuse me of marginalizing his existence... ...I have certainly never tried to mislead anyone with Ritch’s progress or his lack of progress. I’ve tried to keep things positive and shared sometimes when Ritch has laughed when the nurses have come in... || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Genesis - Misunderstanding
Hana + (LW Art) + Burrard Bridge Art
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14thUp Next
My Days – July 2023
Lindsay Wincherauk, a middle-aged man, finds himself at a crossroads in his life. After being replaced by a cheaper employee at his long-time job, Lindsay is thrust into a deep pit of uncertainty and darkness. Struggling with the debilitating effects of Depression, he battles against the encroaching shadows that threaten to consume him.
Throughout the narrative, Lindsay's compassion, empathy, and kindness shine through. He combines his own fears with a desperate need to bring laughter and joy to the world. Lindsay strives to guide both himself and those around him out of the depths of darkness and into the light of hope. With his unique blend of humor, wit, and genuine understanding, Lindsay shows there is light at the end of the tunnel, and we all possess the strength to overcome our personal monsters. “My Days – July 2023” is a powerful and inspiring memoir/narrative fiction that delves into the depths of human struggles, offers a beacon of hope, and shows that even in the darkest moments, there is potential for light and redemption. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
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The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Lindsay, fired at sixty, faces a recurring nightmare where he battles his inner demons. His former employer used the pandemic as an excuse to replace him with a younger, less expensive alternative. Each night, Lindsay is plunged into a world of terror where he must confront his past to survive. But as he fights off the demons, he begins to understand that he has the strength to overcome his fears and emerge victorious. Ultimately, he emerges from his nightmare stronger and more determined than ever before.
The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 8. Jay
Typing the Worlds Together
Wednesday, 13 May 2009 The Gay World steps onto the field, fighting for acceptance, claiming every injustice in its path. Pushing agenda. The Football Fan World enters the fray, denying one of their own could possibly be on the other team. One horrific event mashed them together. Gay claims Ritchie—caring jumps forward—his tragedy speaks to so many that have happened before. I made one phone call, sent one email, and everything began to sprint out of control. We’ve just passed Mother’s Day. I’m ninety-years-old. This has aged me ten-years. His daughter can’t stop crying. I’m staying alive for my son. She kisses his cheek. Most of FOOTBALL Fan World decided to remain, distant hiding behind keyboards. The game will be short-lived and lose steam without something more than prayers for recovery, a purpose larger than Gay needs to be found. False hope is reported. Gay organizes a rally, with love and tolerance jumping onto the field. Nobody identifies themselves as from the other side of care. Gay raises money for the family, and the media helps bring the story to life. This tragic event is much larger than Ritchie’s. I want to cry. I need to cry. I can’t. I don’t call myself gay, I was OUTED to the world; I had to evolve in one hour! Football Fan World tried to step into the Gay World to show support, and an account of the visit was posted. I haven’t answered this until now because I wasn’t sure how much to say and what would be appropriate (the whole gay thing), but here goes anyway: ...not everyone was obviously gay (to me, always) ... Later in the evening, it seemed a bit more of a “gay bar,” but not uncomfortably, so... ...Our waiter was a friendly person who was, as I said earlier, happy that we were there. He told me later in the evening that he had known Ritch for about ten years... He also said, “We’ve all known Ritch for ten years, and we still don’t know if he’s gay or not.”...I only mention that because we should not assume that Ritch is gay or not... Denial of what may be and about what should not matter in any way, dances through the account of a perceived venture into the GAY WORLD. I’m saddened to realize how far the world is from accepting people for who they are. What the fuck, did he expect to witness in the pub? Why does gay and straight need to chastise Ritchie for life only his to live? It sickens me that phrases like, “(the whole gay thing)” “but not uncomfortably, so” and “I only mention that because we should not assume that Ritch is gay, or not.” Ritchie is a great man, a friend to many; his sexual proclivities do not warrant an ounce of effort on the field. But straight in its own need to pat itself on the back—missed the opportunity to do right, instead of rallying together with Gay—they focused on trying to avoid accepting the realities in the story. The above posting started a FOOTBALL FAN WORLD virtual firestorm and debate on the potential of Ritchie’s sexuality having played a role in what happened. Love for the man—turned into “It’s not like I’d ever take a shower with the guy...” My life moves on—I’m sick—I hate to work; I’m afraid to go to job sites. My workmates grant support as if it needs to be given. They also showed me videos of bikini-clad girls dancing on a boat. The straight world keeps battling about how Gay is not part of them, and it is also sprinkled with reports of how Ritchie is progressing; the reports bring more hope. Fuzzy becomes ill. I love you Fuzzy. She wags her tail. I go to the gym with a tear in one eye. I need to slay monsters. I need to sleep. I need to get back on the up escalator. To me, the comments about stepping into the GAY WORLD as a show of support for Ritchie reek of laziness; I find them disgusting. For someone to act as if they are progressive and then post such a guarded mixed message about their experience in the GAY WORLD—serves little purpose, and without understanding his actions, only divides more. I don’t understand the point of homophobia, racism or hate. What is the outcome for those who are trapped in their narrow interpretations of what is the right way to live, if you’re a confident, dubbed, acceptable way, by you; do you get all of the food, water, Gap clothing, all of the Big Macs and Starbucks? I’m allowed to visit Ritchie; I go, it devastates me, I go, again, and again, and again-- Cameron, on most trips, joins me—his optimism smooths out what I can’t help but see. Cameron’s optimism is rooted in his own survival—69,000 volts shot through his body, accompanied by 1,090 amps—frying him both inside and out; he miraculously survived—he sees a miracle in Ritchie. I see a man who’s already been dead. || More to come...
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Lewis Capaldi - Someone You Loved
Racoon + Juxtaposition Between Old & Young + (LW Art)
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15thMy Days – July 2023
Lindsay Wincherauk, a middle-aged man, finds himself at a crossroads in his life. After being replaced by a cheaper employee at his long-time job, Lindsay is thrust into a deep pit of uncertainty and darkness. Struggling with the debilitating effects of Depression, he battles against the encroaching shadows that threaten to consume him.
Throughout the narrative, Lindsay's compassion, empathy, and kindness shine through. He combines his own fears with a desperate need to bring laughter and joy to the world. Lindsay strives to guide both himself and those around him out of the depths of darkness and into the light of hope. With his unique blend of humor, wit, and genuine understanding, Lindsay shows there is light at the end of the tunnel, and we all possess the strength to overcome our personal monsters. “My Days – July 2023” is a powerful and inspiring memoir/narrative fiction that delves into the depths of human struggles, offers a beacon of hope, and shows that even in the darkest moments, there is potential for light and redemption. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
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The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Lindsay, fired at sixty, faces a recurring nightmare where he battles his inner demons. His former employer used the pandemic as an excuse to replace him with a younger, less expensive alternative. Each night, Lindsay is plunged into a world of terror where he must confront his past to survive. But as he fights off the demons, he begins to understand that he has the strength to overcome his fears and emerge victorious. Ultimately, he emerges from his nightmare stronger and more determined than ever before.
The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 8. Jay
The Football Fan World updates on Ritchie’s condition reek of false hope. I guess that is his way of guarding his own emotions.
I’m angered by the embellishments. I must find a way past my anger. Every time we step into Ritchie’s prison at the hospital, I leave defeated. I’ve witnessed the at times slow, painful laborious process of death thousands of times as I watched both of my parents, who weren’t my parents succumb to relentless, unforgiving illnesses. I don’t see life in his eyes. I see a tortured reminder of the injustice thrown his way in a single punch. I see a prison where his mind cannot, and likely will never ever compute again, who he is, or even find the map to who he once was. I see a man who died on March 13, and I hear a world hiding behind the hope of him making a triumphant return. I see a mother who wants more than anything for her wonderful son to flash the brilliant sparkle that used to shine brightly in his eyes, to shine once again. I see a portion of a family drained by tragedy, not understanding, or accepting that if Ritchie is gay, it doesn’t change who he is or who they are. I don’t understand the fear of coming forward to share their agony. As much as I don’t want Ritchie to die, I don’t want to see him live the way he is. I feel guilty for those thoughts. Selfishly, and after another hour of evolution, I realized why so many can’t find the strength to visit Ritchie—they don’t want to remember the painting they’d likely see. I’ve made the step, and there is no turning back; at first, each visit burdened me—with each additional trip, I still see the inevitable outcome; Ritchie is going to die, it may be tomorrow, next week, or in ten years-- I need to cry. I never fully understood the magnitude of our friendship. It was a friendship discovered in The Fountainhead. But, somehow, in our interactions, we became connected, mutual love and respect were found. Gay or not, who cares? What matters is the essence of his soul. Why did I have to be a witness? I can’t sleep. My mind races to events from my past. On a spectacular summer day @ English Bay, two or three years ago. A group of teenagers were stomping on a young man’s head; girls included, punching, kicking, punching, and kicking—blood dripping from the man’s head as he cowered in fear. Hundreds of people were sitting on blankets, watching. I approached, and from a distance of a few feet, lowered my voice and said, “Hey, what are you doing? He’s had enough. You should stop.” They stopped. The young man ran away to safety, bleeding profusely. A girl who was involved approached me, shouting, “What fucking business is this to you? We’ll fuck you up.” She was in her mid-teens. You need to grow up. And you need to get out of here; this will not end well for you if you do anything else. She ran away. Numerous people came and thanked me. You were so brave, everybody else was just watching. A couple of weeks later, I walked down Davie Street around 11 p.m. Then, across the street from a convenience store, a young man was smashing an older man (60+) into the Money Mart’s windows. I stopped, looked around, nobody else was on the street; I then paused and thought, damn it, I must do something. I calmly stated, “Hey, what are you doing? Hey, you, you best stop.” He stopped. And then he shouted in rage at me, “What the fuck do you care; do you want a piece of me?” The older man got away. Calm remained a constant Look, you don’t want a piece of me. He ran away. A week or two passes, I’m walking home from The Fountainhead. In front of a 7-11—a man was stomping on another man’s head. Numerous people on both sides of the street were watching from a distance. I stopped. I crossed the road. Excuse me. What are you doing? You need to stop it now. What? He stopped, and the other man ran away, bleeding. The assaulter screamed at me again. What? He began to move toward me. Go home. He paused, turned, and ran away. || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Big Fish: A Father's Final Story
Racoons + (LW Art) + House Boat + Fully Cooked
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16thMy Days – July 2023
Lindsay Wincherauk, a middle-aged man, finds himself at a crossroads in his life. After being replaced by a cheaper employee at his long-time job, Lindsay is thrust into a deep pit of uncertainty and darkness. Struggling with the debilitating effects of Depression, he battles against the encroaching shadows that threaten to consume him.
Throughout the narrative, Lindsay's compassion, empathy, and kindness shine through. He combines his own fears with a desperate need to bring laughter and joy to the world. Lindsay strives to guide both himself and those around him out of the depths of darkness and into the light of hope. With his unique blend of humor, wit, and genuine understanding, Lindsay shows there is light at the end of the tunnel, and we all possess the strength to overcome our personal monsters. “My Days – July 2023” is a powerful and inspiring memoir/narrative fiction that delves into the depths of human struggles, offers a beacon of hope, and shows that even in the darkest moments, there is potential for light and redemption. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
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The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Lindsay, fired at sixty, faces a recurring nightmare where he battles his inner demons. His former employer used the pandemic as an excuse to replace him with a younger, less expensive alternative. Each night, Lindsay is plunged into a world of terror where he must confront his past to survive. But as he fights off the demons, he begins to understand that he has the strength to overcome his fears and emerge victorious. Ultimately, he emerges from his nightmare stronger and more determined than ever before.
The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 8. Jay
It’s Time to make it to Jay
FOOTBALL FAN WORLD and GAY WORLD likely will never share the same playing field, despite the fact; they are already on it, both worlds refuse to accept that fact. This story, this event, and life are much larger than any single event; there must be a purpose hidden in destiny. Life has brought us to a beautiful place that is clouded behind in misery; it has delivered us a confusing yet brilliant message. We must evolve. A nanosecond before the senseless punch, Ritchie was happy. He was living life the only way he had come to understand he must. Life is precious. Everything that is, can be taken away in a heartbeat, we must never lose sight of that. We need to cherish every moment we have together—regardless of our upbringing—and our ingrained views of the world. With the unrelenting fear of the unknown, we must open our minds to the possibilities that difference brings beauty, as opposed to being imprisoned by our limited views of what is accepted as usual. As time goes by, we must realize the world doesn’t belong to us. It belongs to the next child and the next child after that and-- We must stop defining one another, allowing growth to be pure. Ritchie helped me to drop some of my pettiness. Shawn Woodward altered Ritchie—but as Ritchie slowly moves on—he’s teaching us all how important it is to embrace life, and along the way, to embrace and take care of each other. Accepting that our journeys, although intricately tied together, belong to us all. As much as I will never stop going to see him for as long as he’s here, I will never forget his infectious smile and the sparkle in his eyes. I thank Ritchie for being part of my destiny. We must be the voice-- Shawn Woodward was sentenced to a Hate Crime on August 10, 2010. Ritchie died on January 31, 2014. Shawn Woodward served less than two years. I was a key witness in the trial. I have yet to announce aloud my sexuality. Run. I catch the escalator up just in time. Woodward is walking toward me; the epitome of what a monster is. 1 1 1 1 1 1 || More to come...
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I want to make a difference in this world!
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Steppenwolf - Born To Be Wild
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17thMy Days – July 2023
Lindsay Wincherauk, a middle-aged man, finds himself at a crossroads in his life. After being replaced by a cheaper employee at his long-time job, Lindsay is thrust into a deep pit of uncertainty and darkness. Struggling with the debilitating effects of Depression, he battles against the encroaching shadows that threaten to consume him.
Throughout the narrative, Lindsay's compassion, empathy, and kindness shine through. He combines his own fears with a desperate need to bring laughter and joy to the world. Lindsay strives to guide both himself and those around him out of the depths of darkness and into the light of hope. With his unique blend of humor, wit, and genuine understanding, Lindsay shows there is light at the end of the tunnel, and we all possess the strength to overcome our personal monsters. “My Days – July 2023” is a powerful and inspiring memoir/narrative fiction that delves into the depths of human struggles, offers a beacon of hope, and shows that even in the darkest moments, there is potential for light and redemption. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
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The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Lindsay, fired at sixty, faces a recurring nightmare where he battles his inner demons. His former employer used the pandemic as an excuse to replace him with a younger, less expensive alternative. Each night, Lindsay is plunged into a world of terror where he must confront his past to survive. But as he fights off the demons, he begins to understand that he has the strength to overcome his fears and emerge victorious. Ultimately, he emerges from his nightmare stronger and more determined than ever before.
The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 8. Jay
The escalator slowly rises from the tragedy of Ritchie. Jay waited. He’s reaching for my hand to pull me onto the platform. He’s peering out from the height of the platform like someone who has just flown into a city at 30,000 feet, only to ride an elevator to the top of the city’s tallest tower. And then pointing and spewing out, oh my, you can really see everything from up here. Is that Mississauga?
Jay doesn’t do this, however; a day later, in a hotel lobby, a Texan will look across the street from the hotel and ask me if I’ve gone up the Calgary Tower yet. I tell him I just flew into the city on an airplane, adding Mississauga is thousands of miles away. I then ask him if he knows who Joe Biden is? My talking confuses him. A bicycle goes flying by, rattling the past free in my mind; sending my mind into a frenzy. Where am I? Jay is still peering. Five massive monsters are approaching from the edge of the platform. Jay is in dire danger. With a beast about to scrape Jay into forever-no-more, David, a friend I once travelled to Europe with,—with all his might, pushes the monsters off the platform, sending them to a deserved SPLAT thousands of feet below. Then, with the demons out of the way, Dave points, and then utters, is that Mississauga? Dave? Before he can answer, he turns into mist and dissipates in the air. My arms are aching. I carried a forty-pound box of cat litter home seven blocks two days ago. Three blocks into the trip, I put the litter on top of a newspaper box, and thought, you know you are poor when you are carrying a forty-pound box of cat litter seven blocks. Am I okay? How could I be? Do I need therapy? Likely. My sixty-three-year-old friend 2G recently bought poppers. The seller asked him how the poppers were working out for him? I cringed. How could I be, okay? 2G wrote a one-word poppers review. “DICK.” That makes sense. Would you like to know something I can do most people can’t? I miss Whirley. That’s not it. No, I really miss her. Did you do poppers together? What’s wrong with you? You know—you—you are referring to—is—you: Whirley is gone. I’m talking to myself. I can make you laugh when you least expect it? Is this when? No. You. It. Is. Not. Unless. You. Laughed. I thought this segment was about Jay. It is, but he’s Jaywalking right now and won’t be back for twenty minutes. I made a note (to myself) to move the kitty litter story to the previous rant about poverty. I will not do that. I’m leaving it here. If you want to move it, you can move it yourself. A screen is playing the news up in the corner of my computer. In Vancouver, there are hundreds of protesters protesting an event called Drag Queen Story Time. The biggest-mouthed protester, both in mouth size and because she’s got a bullhorn, is screaming at the children, some as young as four: DON’T GO IN THEY ARE TRYING TO INDOCTRINATE YOU. The four-year-old doesn’t know what indoctrinate means. Neither do the five-, six-, seven-, or eight-year-olds. There is one nine-year-old boy named Sheldon who does. 83 Bonus Points! || More to come...
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18thMy Days – July 2023
Lindsay Wincherauk, a middle-aged man, finds himself at a crossroads in his life. After being replaced by a cheaper employee at his long-time job, Lindsay is thrust into a deep pit of uncertainty and darkness. Struggling with the debilitating effects of Depression, he battles against the encroaching shadows that threaten to consume him.
Throughout the narrative, Lindsay's compassion, empathy, and kindness shine through. He combines his own fears with a desperate need to bring laughter and joy to the world. Lindsay strives to guide both himself and those around him out of the depths of darkness and into the light of hope. With his unique blend of humor, wit, and genuine understanding, Lindsay shows there is light at the end of the tunnel, and we all possess the strength to overcome our personal monsters. “My Days – July 2023” is a powerful and inspiring memoir/narrative fiction that delves into the depths of human struggles, offers a beacon of hope, and shows that even in the darkest moments, there is potential for light and redemption. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
![]()
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Lindsay, fired at sixty, faces a recurring nightmare where he battles his inner demons. His former employer used the pandemic as an excuse to replace him with a younger, less expensive alternative. Each night, Lindsay is plunged into a world of terror where he must confront his past to survive. But as he fights off the demons, he begins to understand that he has the strength to overcome his fears and emerge victorious. Ultimately, he emerges from his nightmare stronger and more determined than ever before.
The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 8. Jay
I don’t like Chuck Lorre or Dick Wolf’s programs, but I watch them.
Therapy? Thoughts and prayers. The children are scared. What do humans not get? Scotty L. He just walked through my mind. A lot of people come from fucked up families. Are you even listening? Or are you too damaged to care? Have you ever talked to Troy? He was adopted; you guys should talk. Where’s Jay? I feel alone. I don’t want others to feel my pain. I feel stifled. Jay loves me. I’m funny. Laugh. I’m dark. 3,400 more books have just been published about Trump; they’re all, the same, book. Bruce reads them all, thinking he will find the silver bullet. Trump is not a werewolf. He’s a → this →↓ I drew the above Trump drawing a few minutes ago using Adobe.
Wow! I know, right? I’m a full-grown adult. You are, more than okay.
I am. You are. Thanks to me. Laugh. Can I share my pain with you? No. I want to talk about the weather and Trump. Have you heard about inflation? I wish humans would get more rest, so we can become less-fucking banal. I look up at the screen in the elevator in my building. Have you heard about the ninety-year-old grandmother selling Cocaine in Saskatchewan to survive? I didn’t. I bet you she has her kitty litter delivered. I don’t think paper straws work well with cocaine. Poor plastic straws. We should protest. Aren’t two-litre pop bottles nothing more than plastic straws? Don’t answer. || More to come...
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I want to make a difference in this world!
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Bryan Adams - Cuts Like A Knife
Natural Perfection + LW ART + Ewen MacGregor
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19thMy Days – July 2023
Lindsay Wincherauk, a middle-aged man, finds himself at a crossroads in his life. After being replaced by a cheaper employee at his long-time job, Lindsay is thrust into a deep pit of uncertainty and darkness. Struggling with the debilitating effects of Depression, he battles against the encroaching shadows that threaten to consume him.
Throughout the narrative, Lindsay's compassion, empathy, and kindness shine through. He combines his own fears with a desperate need to bring laughter and joy to the world. Lindsay strives to guide both himself and those around him out of the depths of darkness and into the light of hope. With his unique blend of humor, wit, and genuine understanding, Lindsay shows there is light at the end of the tunnel, and we all possess the strength to overcome our personal monsters. “My Days – July 2023” is a powerful and inspiring memoir/narrative fiction that delves into the depths of human struggles, offers a beacon of hope, and shows that even in the darkest moments, there is potential for light and redemption. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
![]()
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Lindsay, fired at sixty, faces a recurring nightmare where he battles his inner demons. His former employer used the pandemic as an excuse to replace him with a younger, less expensive alternative. Each night, Lindsay is plunged into a world of terror where he must confront his past to survive. But as he fights off the demons, he begins to understand that he has the strength to overcome his fears and emerge victorious. Ultimately, he emerges from his nightmare stronger and more determined than ever before.
The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 8. Jay
Sometimes I want chips, and sometimes I like chocolate.
I’m having a relationship with a woman who works at the 7/11. She always asks me questions like, do you have a 7/11 rewards card? I figure her expectations are low. Great news. A chocolate bar. I will not say the name - Witherspoon → 9,600 Bonus Points! → has put chips in their bars; bars already filled with peanut butter. Jay just loves me. Fuck off; I don’t want to hear your opinion. Jay feeds me. Without condition. Most of the time, I don’t even look at what I’m eating, when I’m eating. One night, he put something in front of my mouth, and like a starving coyote, CHOMP. It was his finger, with a hint of caramel on it. I bit it off and accidentally swallowed it. Oh no. We rushed to the hospital in hopes of having Jay’s digit reattached. I feared my stomach acid might have become monstrous and was digesting Jay’s finger. The doctors performed a C-Section. Jay’s finger was saved. Harry does a lot of blow? Who’s Harry? The man who invented the Suckutron 9,000. Harry does a lot of blow. || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Natural Perfection + LW ART + New Besties
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20thMy Days – July 2023
Lindsay Wincherauk, a middle-aged man, finds himself at a crossroads in his life. After being replaced by a cheaper employee at his long-time job, Lindsay is thrust into a deep pit of uncertainty and darkness. Struggling with the debilitating effects of Depression, he battles against the encroaching shadows that threaten to consume him.
Throughout the narrative, Lindsay's compassion, empathy, and kindness shine through. He combines his own fears with a desperate need to bring laughter and joy to the world. Lindsay strives to guide both himself and those around him out of the depths of darkness and into the light of hope. With his unique blend of humor, wit, and genuine understanding, Lindsay shows there is light at the end of the tunnel, and we all possess the strength to overcome our personal monsters. “My Days – July 2023” is a powerful and inspiring memoir/narrative fiction that delves into the depths of human struggles, offers a beacon of hope, and shows that even in the darkest moments, there is potential for light and redemption. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
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Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Lindsay, fired at sixty, faces a recurring nightmare where he battles his inner demons. His former employer used the pandemic as an excuse to replace him with a younger, less expensive alternative. Each night, Lindsay is plunged into a world of terror where he must confront his past to survive. But as he fights off the demons, he begins to understand that he has the strength to overcome his fears and emerge victorious. Ultimately, he emerges from his nightmare stronger and more determined than ever before.
The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 8. Jay
I will open an Irish bar called Apostrophe or Apostrophe’s or just ‘?
Did you laugh?
The fucking elite of this world subjects kitty litter carriers to live in Cancer-fucking-inducing food deserts and then try to tell the everyone that providing affordable healthcare will destroy the nation. Fuckers. What’s that, Wordy? ******* A poor person carries kitty litter. A rich person gets Botox. And another rich person sculpts their fat away to become fuckable to themselves in the mirror. Maybe they can borrow 2G’s poppers. Ewe, I just imagined 2G masturbating. 2G looks like → this → ↓ The answer to your question is, yes, I created the image.
Oh, that wasn’t the question; you’re wondering if this will be in the book. I hope so, but probably not. Please write to the political representative in your area if you want to see these images in the book. But of course, if they are not in the book, you will not no, not know, what you are missing. What’s the loudmouth with the bullhorn squealing now? Is she still giving lessons on how to hate? While she rants, someone massacres a group at a gay bar in Colorado. Hundreds of police cars, after the fact, show up to see if the dead are okay. That’s fucking dark. How can it be anything but? Someone shouts out that love is love. I’m tired. A lot of people were adopted. Thoughts and prayers. Wait a week—the reruns play almost weekly, only they are not reruns. Is my mother fixed it yet? I miss Whirley. Ah, shit, Dave didn’t get all the monsters. There appears to be a phantasmal creature lairing in places of dark powers. It’s stalking me. Thoughts and prayers. No, it’s stalking me; I think I’m its prey. Crap. Spikes are poking out of the monster’s limbs. It’s spewing toxic smoke. I choke. Run. Whirley, was that you? Run. A friend tells me about his open relationship. I tell him good luck. He keeps talking. I’m not interested. He says it works for them. I’m not interested. He tells me about recent hookups. I’m not interested. He keeps talking. I’m tired. A wise man once told me if you have an opinion, opine. I sing. Open = one person doesn’t care and is asking permission to cheat. The other is insecure. He keeps talking and tells me his partner is getting more action than he is. Sounds like a competition. I’m not interested. Lindsay, aren’t you working on a story idea called Hooker Box. Thanks for asking. Hooker Box Saving marriages one hooker at a time. Honey, you got me a Hooker Box subscription for Christmas. Yay! And then, Honey, you got me a Hooker Box subscription for Christmas. Yay! There’s a hooker box for the entire family. Even your dog. Hooker Box: Delivering a fresh hooker weekly. Now with new and improved boxes, we’ve added airholes. I run. || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Kevin McKay, Alex Gewer, Tasty Lopez - Miss You
Natural Perfection + LW ART
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
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21stMy Days – July 2023
Lindsay Wincherauk, a middle-aged man, finds himself at a crossroads in his life. After being replaced by a cheaper employee at his long-time job, Lindsay is thrust into a deep pit of uncertainty and darkness. Struggling with the debilitating effects of Depression, he battles against the encroaching shadows that threaten to consume him.
Throughout the narrative, Lindsay's compassion, empathy, and kindness shine through. He combines his own fears with a desperate need to bring laughter and joy to the world. Lindsay strives to guide both himself and those around him out of the depths of darkness and into the light of hope. With his unique blend of humor, wit, and genuine understanding, Lindsay shows there is light at the end of the tunnel, and we all possess the strength to overcome our personal monsters. “My Days – July 2023” is a powerful and inspiring memoir/narrative fiction that delves into the depths of human struggles, offers a beacon of hope, and shows that even in the darkest moments, there is potential for light and redemption. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
![]()
↑↑↑ LW original art ↑↑↑
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Lindsay, fired at sixty, faces a recurring nightmare where he battles his inner demons. His former employer used the pandemic as an excuse to replace him with a younger, less expensive alternative. Each night, Lindsay is plunged into a world of terror where he must confront his past to survive. But as he fights off the demons, he begins to understand that he has the strength to overcome his fears and emerge victorious. Ultimately, he emerges from his nightmare stronger and more determined than ever before.
The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 8. Jay
The escalator slides up to the platform, monsters disposed of; thanks, David.
An oak tree rises toward the sky, moments away from erupting into bloom. I must get off at home. Jay reaches for my hand; it’s now 408 days since Ritchie’s life was sent scuttling toward its end. Jay’s fingers; like hooks, drag me onto the platform, barely tearing my garment. Who calls clothing a garment? Probably someone from the Garment District of New York. That makes perfect sense. Is there a Garment District in New York? Yes. Who are you? Whirley sent me. I’m Sparkly Pingle Ball; I’m your new sidekick. But… but… but… I don’t create you until July 2022, just before the 1,000,000 steps in July Challenge. Yes, but really, I have always been inside you. And yes, really, I did just say but, really. I’m not a writer; I am Sparkly Pingle Ball; now let’s go see Jay? Jay, would you like to come inside? You already asked him that. Yeah, but do you remember, I fell down 408 rungs of the escalator? Jay, How far have you travelled to get here? Far. Want to do it? One Week Later Jay, would you like come over for pizza and a movie? Okay. Do it? Sure. It’s the morning, want to walk across this bridge together so you can catch the sky-(under-the-ground)-train home? I’m in, like. We walk. Jay, I will never hurt you, and if I accidentally do, I will keep the guilt to myself—I hope you’d do the same. Hooker Box? No. Honesty. Beat it Sparkly. Jay, I’m getting older; if you want to have a big fight, can you do it yourself, tire yourself out, and come back when you are done? Okay. Hmm… Did I say these things out loud? Sparkly, can you check? Yeah, your filter is missing. I will have to learn how to be loved and cared for unconditionally. And keep your abandonment issues in check. And keep my abandonment issues in check. Is my mother getting married, yet? You watched your mother die. Oh yeah, I forgot. Little did Sparkly know, one day I’d find out I’m almost 50% Norwegian. I knew, you created me after you found out. Maybe so, Sparkles, but you are here now, in this dream—so, you knew before your creation. That’s impossible. I’m the one typing. No, you’re fingers are. My thumbs love each other. My nails are too long, typing feels odd, Jay? He’ll snip my nails later. Is he your care provider. That would be nice. I wipe my own bum. For now. Yep. You typed yep, how old are you? CLANK. CLANK. CLANK. || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Lewis Capaldi - Wish You The Best
Art Installation (Crumbling Under the Weight of Poverty + Love Food + LW Art
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
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22ndMy Days – July 2023
Lindsay Wincherauk, a middle-aged man, finds himself at a crossroads in his life. After being replaced by a cheaper employee at his long-time job, Lindsay is thrust into a deep pit of uncertainty and darkness. Struggling with the debilitating effects of Depression, he battles against the encroaching shadows that threaten to consume him.
Throughout the narrative, Lindsay's compassion, empathy, and kindness shine through. He combines his own fears with a desperate need to bring laughter and joy to the world. Lindsay strives to guide both himself and those around him out of the depths of darkness and into the light of hope. With his unique blend of humor, wit, and genuine understanding, Lindsay shows there is light at the end of the tunnel, and we all possess the strength to overcome our personal monsters. “My Days – July 2023” is a powerful and inspiring memoir/narrative fiction that delves into the depths of human struggles, offers a beacon of hope, and shows that even in the darkest moments, there is potential for light and redemption. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
![]()
↑↑↑ LW original art ↑↑↑
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
The Stairs
The Stairs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Lindsay, fired at sixty, faces a recurring nightmare where he battles his inner demons. His former employer used the pandemic as an excuse to replace him with a younger, less expensive alternative. Each night, Lindsay is plunged into a world of terror where he must confront his past to survive. But as he fights off the demons, he begins to understand that he has the strength to overcome his fears and emerge victorious. Ultimately, he emerges from his nightmare stronger and more determined than ever before.
The Non-Linear Path of A Waking Nightmare
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us. 8. Jay
Jump Sparkly.
Who are you? I’m Willie Lowman; I’m self-destructing. “I’ve got to get some seeds. I’ve got to get some seeds, right away. Nothing’s planted. I don’t have a thing in the ground.” What are you doing? Acting. Lindsay? Yes, Willie? I’m dead. I know. I’ve been talking with many dead(s) lately, Willie. You call us the dead(s)? It’s honest. Why are you here, Willie? I’ve never seen your play. Asshole. And I just watched you watching something on the tube about a new release of my play, idiot. Willie, this is my waking nightmare. And don’t you think calling me idiot is rude. Ray Parker Junior doesn’t like it. Ray Parker who? Linds, I’m here to tell you not to fuck this up. Jay is good for you. I know. Do you know what people are going to call us? Hero. Faggot. Hero. Faggot. You can handle it, and besides, what the fuck do you care? You are getting old. I’m trying to reinvent myself. You are lucky Jay has entered your life. I know. But Willy, it’s not like a barge of fireworks; it’s more like the kids from South Park are blasting off M80s daily, adding one more each day. It’s much calmer. Did Whirley get to Jay? Willie? Yes. Jim and Jim want to have a beer. It’s your dream. Yes, really, it is. Hello, Jim. Hello, Jim. Do you want to hear what my new friend Wordy has to say? Are you going to edit Wordy? No. Go Wordy Hi word E how are you I’m going to masturbate now you ****** oh wait you didn’t do masturbate before but now I’m like **** her *** tricks out but it wouldn’t even do mass look at this will I get decides words that I’m not allowed to say so this is what I said hi word how are you I’m going to masturbate now you Astra caster had oh wait you didn’t do masturbate before but now I’m like hair takes out but it wouldn’t even do mass of my God like it just keeps recording everything that I’m saying like an it’s good because it’s picking it up pretty already choices probably talk does every call everybody’s voice or just yours does so yeah this is great if you add voice you’re not see annunciate correctly if you yeah I got insert with correct so that’s good if you just left that on the on for gummy Friday I could capture it all yeah I could catch it all this would be great and then you just do it out verb 8:00 AM type it out verbatim the reason we had a fight because I said colloquialism and it just set a right side see even heard I even said colloquialism and I got it does the spell right yeah everything is fantastic yeah What the fuck was that? || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Burger King Melt (Yuck) + LW Art
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
|
23rdMy Days – July 2023
Lindsay Wincherauk, a middle-aged man, finds himself at a crossroads in his life. After being replaced by a cheaper employee at his long-time job, Lindsay is thrust into a deep pit of uncertainty and darkness. Struggling with the debilitating effects of Depression, he battles against the encroaching shadows that threaten to consume him.
Throughout the narrative, Lindsay's compassion, empathy, and kindness shine through. He combines his own fears with a desperate need to bring laughter and joy to the world. Lindsay strives to guide both himself and those around him out of the depths of darkness and into the light of hope. With his unique blend of humor, wit, and genuine understanding, Lindsay shows there is light at the end of the tunnel, and we all possess the strength to overcome our personal monsters. “My Days – July 2023” is a powerful and inspiring memoir/narrative fiction that delves into the depths of human struggles, offers a beacon of hope, and shows that even in the darkest moments, there is potential for light and redemption. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
As well, all companies, events, and places are also fictitious and are solely a product of the writers imagination, and the imagination of Sparkly Pingle Ball, who happens to be a product of the writers imagination. It is a shame we live in a world where the system protects the monsters who hurt people.
|