October 2023
1-16
1-16
ONE WORD AT A TIME!
The Big Days
There comes a point in life (maybe an age) where if we are not spending most of our time cultivating our passions and chasing our dreams—eventually, you'll become nothing more than small talk.
On This Page ↓↓↓
What did you i yesterday?
The Given
The Given
- i update the site.
- i Write.
- i usually go to the Fitness Asylum but broken Pinky has placed me on the shelf.
- i Pitch.
- i Read.
- i Walk.
- i Write More.
- i Create.
Sparkly Pingle Ball is a fig-mint of my imagination. Minty. Every time, you wonder who the hell I'm talking with, it's Sparkly.
Who are you?
If you think, I'm crazy, ask yourself one thing: Have you ever watched Family Guy? Or . . . ?
Sparkly's key role is to keep moving the narrative along. And to be hot!
Who are the voices in your head?
Embrace them. Love them. You are not alone.
Who are you?
If you think, I'm crazy, ask yourself one thing: Have you ever watched Family Guy? Or . . . ?
Sparkly's key role is to keep moving the narrative along. And to be hot!
Who are the voices in your head?
Embrace them. Love them. You are not alone.
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“Humans' Bistro” You are what we eat!
In a not-too-distant future, humanity has brought the world to the brink of destruction. Habitats have been ravaged, creatures have been mercilessly consumed, and the delicate balance of nature has been disrupted.
In a clandestine gathering, the animals come together, led by the clever and sociable Jack Rabbit, aptly named Jack. They realize survival can only be achieved by a drastic change in their ways. Instead of perpetuating the cycle of devouring one another, they conceive a daring plan. They create a series of culturally specific restaurants where humans become the main course.
With newfound determination, the animals transform a dilapidated town and rebrand it Foodville, a place where all creatures can indulge in their cravings for human flesh — to rid the world of the parasitically destructive humans.
Amidst the ensuing chaos, an unexpected romance blossoms between Mr. Wendal, a mischievous hyena, and Cantaloupe, a vegan antelope, who only eats cantaloupes while listening to “Cantaloop” by the British jazz hip hop group Us3.
Interwoven with these events is the tale of a loving grandmother and a cantankerous grandfather, who captivate their fifteen grandchildren with enchanting stories. Drawing inspiration from classics like “The Princess Bride” and “Big Fish,” the grandparents regale their young audience with tales of adventure, love, and animals reclaiming their rightful place in the world.
In a spine-chilling twist, the grandparents reveal their true identities as ethereal beings, guardians of the Animal Kingdom with insatiable appetites for venison.
Driven by their newfound power, the animals forsake their empathy and compassion, mirroring the destructive behaviors they once vehemently opposed.
With heavy hearts and a newfound understanding of the interconnectedness of all life, the surviving animals and humans unite to rebuild their shattered world. They vow to honour the memory of those who have been consumed and strive for a future where harmony prevails.
At the heart of it all, “Humans’ Bistro” stands as a poignant reminder of the fragility of life, the consequences of our choices, and the enduring power of love in the face of tragedy.
In a not-too-distant future, humanity has brought the world to the brink of destruction. Habitats have been ravaged, creatures have been mercilessly consumed, and the delicate balance of nature has been disrupted.
In a clandestine gathering, the animals come together, led by the clever and sociable Jack Rabbit, aptly named Jack. They realize survival can only be achieved by a drastic change in their ways. Instead of perpetuating the cycle of devouring one another, they conceive a daring plan. They create a series of culturally specific restaurants where humans become the main course.
With newfound determination, the animals transform a dilapidated town and rebrand it Foodville, a place where all creatures can indulge in their cravings for human flesh — to rid the world of the parasitically destructive humans.
Amidst the ensuing chaos, an unexpected romance blossoms between Mr. Wendal, a mischievous hyena, and Cantaloupe, a vegan antelope, who only eats cantaloupes while listening to “Cantaloop” by the British jazz hip hop group Us3.
Interwoven with these events is the tale of a loving grandmother and a cantankerous grandfather, who captivate their fifteen grandchildren with enchanting stories. Drawing inspiration from classics like “The Princess Bride” and “Big Fish,” the grandparents regale their young audience with tales of adventure, love, and animals reclaiming their rightful place in the world.
In a spine-chilling twist, the grandparents reveal their true identities as ethereal beings, guardians of the Animal Kingdom with insatiable appetites for venison.
Driven by their newfound power, the animals forsake their empathy and compassion, mirroring the destructive behaviors they once vehemently opposed.
With heavy hearts and a newfound understanding of the interconnectedness of all life, the surviving animals and humans unite to rebuild their shattered world. They vow to honour the memory of those who have been consumed and strive for a future where harmony prevails.
At the heart of it all, “Humans’ Bistro” stands as a poignant reminder of the fragility of life, the consequences of our choices, and the enduring power of love in the face of tragedy.
My Life
Oh, dear friend, let me lend an ear, to the story you seek to share and hear.
Born in shadows, scratching for light, a journey weaves through darkness and bright.
Breathe, run, and play, embracing the thrill, yet sometimes we stumble and fall down still.
Sports shape us, teach us to rise once more, stitched together, stronger than before.
A slight limp may walk beside you with grace, a reminder of battles you bravely embrace.
As you move forward, secrets may unfold, the light darkens, a mystery to behold.
Pieces cobbled back together with care, revealing glimpses of who you are there.
But why the secrecy, the hidden desire?
Questions whisper in your mind’s fire.
A health scare comes knocking on your door, drinks offer solace you can’t ignore.
Another scare arrives with a warning bell, but fear not, for you’ll be stitched up well.
Better than new, you shall rise above, a pill caddy filled with strength and love.
Every day brings healing and light, with determination, you’ll win this fight.
And if the question lingers in your mind, can you stop taking what fate has assigned?
Remember, dear friend, it’s your choice to make, to embark on a journey of wellness and break.
So, take a deep breath, stand tall and strong, know in your heart, you truly belong.
Stitched together with resilience anew, embrace each day and let your spirit shine through.
Oh, dear friend, let me lend an ear, to the story you seek to share and hear.
Born in shadows, scratching for light, a journey weaves through darkness and bright.
Breathe, run, and play, embracing the thrill, yet sometimes we stumble and fall down still.
Sports shape us, teach us to rise once more, stitched together, stronger than before.
A slight limp may walk beside you with grace, a reminder of battles you bravely embrace.
As you move forward, secrets may unfold, the light darkens, a mystery to behold.
Pieces cobbled back together with care, revealing glimpses of who you are there.
But why the secrecy, the hidden desire?
Questions whisper in your mind’s fire.
A health scare comes knocking on your door, drinks offer solace you can’t ignore.
Another scare arrives with a warning bell, but fear not, for you’ll be stitched up well.
Better than new, you shall rise above, a pill caddy filled with strength and love.
Every day brings healing and light, with determination, you’ll win this fight.
And if the question lingers in your mind, can you stop taking what fate has assigned?
Remember, dear friend, it’s your choice to make, to embark on a journey of wellness and break.
So, take a deep breath, stand tall and strong, know in your heart, you truly belong.
Stitched together with resilience anew, embrace each day and let your spirit shine through.
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 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.
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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.
Each of us has monsters lurking inside us.
1st
Meet the Restaurateurs
Up Next ↓↓↓
Contents
Humans' Bistro (on the prep table)
This Colour = In The Production Lab (Subject to creative license). 
Cover Art: Lindsay Wincherauk
↑↑↑ LW original art ↑↑↑
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
A Book Passage or |a poem|
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.
9. General Population
A Work Story
Send me out. I’ll do anything. I need to work. Send me out. A quick look into the pleading worker’s history informs me: he has a propensity to talk about his extra-curricular after-hour preferences to supervisors, rendering him (probably): unemployable. On this Tuesday, he implores he’ll behave. The phone rattles off the hook. In a matter of minutes, we have thirty-three new orders. My desk is scattered—my mind follows closely behind. A worker named Howie, fifty-five years of age, a drunk, drooling down life’s laneways. I feel for him; he looks into space and says, I need a job. I’m homeless for the first time in my life. His voice cracks with anguish. My co-worker attempts to ease his pain. I feel your pain. I know how you feel. I live at home, but I feel like I’m homeless. He seriously, said that. My mouth agape. I return my focus to the mess on my desk. I can’t handle this: crosses my mind. Focus Lindsay, focus. I need to work, I need to work, and I need to work. The glares intensify. Three workers are fully locked on me. I must handle this. I’m breaking. And then—Andrew catches my attention and calmly looks at me and asks: What do you know about the Red-Hot Chili Peppers? || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
|I Wrote|
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Ed Sheeran - American Town
LW Art
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
| ||||||||||||||||||
2nd
Meet the Restaurateurs
Up Next ↓↓↓
Contents
Humans' Bistro (on the prep table)
This Colour = In The Production Lab (Subject to creative license).
Cover Art: Lindsay Wincherauk
↑↑↑ LW original art ↑↑↑
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
A Book Passage or |a poem|
But here was the very important thing Daniel had learned from working with James: talented people needed more space, psychically speaking. You can't crowd them or demand things from them, because they were always working inside their heads, even if it didn't seem like they were. Maybe that came off as allofeness to civilians—to the lame and untalented—but it wasn't. Not really. It took Daniel many weeks to figure this out, but once he did, his and James's working relationship relly took flight.
- Creative Types by Tom Bissell 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.
9. General Population
Time for my oh-so-regular bloodletting. This time, to confirm my pinhole artery feeding my cranium is still open for business.
Light comes from comedy. Sleeves rolled up. The phlebotomist enters. Date of birth? I tell her. She double takes me. She smiles. Do you know how old you are? Yes. No, you’re not. You are much younger. My blood flows into the vials—some blasts upward—I blush. Hmm, maybe I should take a closer look from now on before I swipe left! She says. Swipe Right → || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
|I Wrote|
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Ed Sheeran - The Day I Was Born
LW Art
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
| ||||||||||||||||||
3rd
Meet the Restaurateurs
Up Next ↓↓↓
Contents
Humans' Bistro (on the prep table)
This Colour = In The Production Lab (Subject to creative license).
Cover Art: Lindsay Wincherauk
↑↑↑ LW original art ↑↑↑
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
A Book Passage or |a poem|
You think I didn't pocket a few coins? You think I was the only one? Here's an excecise in moral relativism: Which is worse—forcing kids to beg to support a cult by soliciting donations under the guise of missionary work, paying someone below a living wage, or stealing from those who do? Were the bouncers any worse than the bartenders known for pouring the heaviest glasses of water in D.C.? I've put a lot of thought into this and come up with the same answer every time: I'll do what I need to survive.
- Leaving Isn't the Hardest Thing: Essays by Lauren Hough 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.
9. General Population
Main Street: Car Free Days
Get on; you meet the height requirements, fastened into the roller coaster: GO! Sparkly, should we grab another pint? Father’s Day rolls on—I watched my birth father die—he wasn’t my birth father—years later, I met my birth father—he wasn’t my birth father—I don’t know the identity of my birth father. The day was sparkling. The sun blazed down. My friend Jay and I headed out to Car Free Days on Main—the opposite of garbage. Thirty blocks of entertainment: food + music + artisans hawking their wares. A brilliant day. The heat got to Jay a wee bit. Home time came. I needed a moment alone. I sauntered on down to the local watering hole to escape the tricks about father’ day; my cranium started playing in my rebooting brain. I arrived. No WS. Whew! I was in the company of strangers. Two seats to my left sat Brian. Along with Brian, I struck up a conversation two guys sitting to my right. They were from Seattle + the Okanagan. Home time came calling again. Have a great day, Brian. I shook the man’s hand to my right and then left. My name is Lindsay; it was a pleasure chatting. I said. My name is James, said the man to my right. My name is Donald, said the man to his right. BRIAN + DONALD + LINDSAY + JAMES What’s that, Universe? || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
|I Wrote|
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Ed Sheeran - Magical (Live From Brantlie's Living Room)
LW Art
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
| ||||||||||||||||||
4th
Meet the Restaurateurs
Up Next ↓↓↓
Contents
Humans' Bistro (on the prep table)
This Colour = In The Production Lab (Subject to creative license).
Cover Art: Lindsay Wincherauk
↑↑↑ LW original art ↑↑↑
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
A Book Passage or |a poem|
Fasting and sleep depreivation are useful if you want to brainwash someone. After a while, you stop feeling hungry and start getting high. Of course, during any fast, the commune black market kicked into gull gear. You could get anything from a hard-boiled egg to a baggie of raw oats if you knew who to ask.
Once the meeting started, all you could chew was your cheek. We'd sing for hours, sometimes hundreds of us in a room. The air would curdle with the smell of our body odor and breath. The spiritual, or those who needed to appear spiritual because they'd recently been in trouble for not being spirtiual, would lift their hands in the air and weep. A Family favorite, or, as I know it, the worst fucking song in the Family, was called "My Family, My Family." It's a love song about the Family. Anyway, during that song, the tradition was to drape your arms over the person next to you, and rock back and forth to the music. (I can sing it now as I type. It smells like armpits). - Leaving Isn't the Hardest Thing: Essays by Lauren Hough 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.
9. General Population
Main Street: Car Free Days
Get on; you meet the height requirements, fastened into the roller coaster: GO! Sparkly, should we grab another pint? Father’s Day rolls on—I watched my birth father die—he wasn’t my birth father—years later, I met my birth father—he wasn’t my birth father—I don’t know the identity of my birth father. The day was sparkling. The sun blazed down. My friend Jay and I headed out to Car Free Days on Main—the opposite of garbage. Thirty blocks of entertainment: food + music + artisans hawking their wares. A brilliant day. The heat got to Jay a wee bit. Home time came. I needed a moment alone. I sauntered on down to the local watering hole to escape the tricks about father’ day; my cranium started playing in my rebooting brain. I arrived. No WS. Whew! I was in the company of strangers. Two seats to my left sat Brian. Along with Brian, I struck up a conversation with two guys sitting to my right. They were from Seattle + the Okanagan. Home time came calling again. Have a great day, Brian. I said. I shook the man’s hand to my right and then left. My name is Lindsay; it was a pleasure chatting. I said. My name is James, said the man to my right. My name is Donald, said the man to his right. BRIAN + DONALD + LINDSAY + JAMES What’s that, Universe? || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
|I Wrote|
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Ed Sheeran - England (Live From Maynard's Living Room)
LW Art
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
| |||||||||||||||
5th
Meet the Restaurateurs
Up Next ↓↓↓
Contents
Humans' Bistro (on the prep table)
This Colour = In The Production Lab (Subject to creative license).
Cover Art: Lindsay Wincherauk
↑↑↑ LW original art ↑↑↑
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
A Book Passage or |a poem|
I'd been patching myself together for so long, hiding behind which version of me I thought would be least upsetting to everyone else. Meanwhile, the damage I was ignoring was just festering. That's how life is in the margins. You can't afford new brakes, so you'll need new rotors. You can't afford a root canal, so they have to pull the tooth. You don't have the time, resources or money even begin to diagnose your mind, much less treat it, so you turn up the radio and you don't hear the sound of what's breaking. I had to keep my anger tucked away. I liked my anger. I thought it kept me safe.
- Leaving Isn't the Hardest Thing: Essays by Lauren Hough 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.
9. General Population
Doctor Musial
21 June 2018 Doctor Musial has been my doctor for twenty-eight-years. I enjoy his company. I appreciate his somewhat not doctorly manners. He finds brightness in the challenges of living life. We have a good rapport. I’m profoundly sad—today is to be my last visit. The good Doc is retiring on the June 30. I’ll miss him. Do you remember the last time when I said you shouldn’t be allowed to retire until all your patients are dead? You do! I joked with friends it would be hilarious if you ended our appointment today, saying, Well, that’s it, Lindsay, you’re my last patient. To which I’d reply, But you’re retiring on the 30th. About that, I wouldn’t make Canada Day plans if I were you. He laughed. Hey, do you know what my blood type is? I don’t know—why would I know that? Are you sure you’re my doctor? Lindsay, I think you will see the humour in this; some patients don’t. If a patient asks if they must take a pill for the rest of their life? After I reply, you’re lucky there is a pill to take. I say, No, you don’t, you can quit taking it the week before you die. We both laughed. The blood type question is the only question I had for you. You’re healthy, except-- I know, thanks for everything. TIMES UP Here come the tears. Fight them, Lindsay. Fight them. I stuck out my hand. The tears were winning. I grabbed his hand and shook it while looking away. All the best, all the best to you, Lindsay; I ran to the door. || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
|I Wrote|
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Ed Sheeran - Amazing (Live From Kia's Living Room)
LW Art
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
| |||||||||||||||
6th
Meet the Restaurateurs
Up Next ↓↓↓
Contents
Humans' Bistro (on the prep table)
This Colour = In The Production Lab (Subject to creative license).
Cover Art: Lindsay Wincherauk
↑↑↑ LW original art ↑↑↑
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
A Book Passage or |a poem|
She said, "It's just, when he has Fox, he has Obama to hate. If he doesn't have that . . . " She kept looking over her shoulder. She was terrified of him. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just need him to have Fox." I got out of my van.
- Leaving Isn't the Hardest Thing: Essays by Lauren Hough Book Thoughts
Harrowing and compelling, gripping readers from the very first page and never letting go.
How did the book make me feel/think? Jessica Knoll’s “Bright Young Women” immediately captivates readers and maintains their engagement until the very last word. It skillfully delves into the experiences of women in a world filled with predators, shedding light on the challenges they face in overcoming victimization and the importance of remembering and honouring the victims instead of glorifying the perpetrators. Through the diverse backgrounds of the main characters, Knoll emphasizes the significance of unity in the relentless pursuit of justice. Knoll’s writing style is both harrowing and compelling, gripping readers from the very first page and never letting go. The emotional impact it delivers is profound, leaving a lasting impression. Not only is “Bright Young Women” a captivating read, but it also provokes deep contemplation. Fearlessly delving into pressing societal matters, Knoll masterfully weaves realistic fiction to expose the unsettling truth of monsters lurking in our midst. WRITTEN: 6 October 2023 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.
9. General Population
Homeless Man
I feel sad. I can’t pinpoint why? I need a new doctor. I don’t want to be set outside in a chair or deposited on a bench at a bus stop. I don’t want to be forgotten—never to come back. I’d like to book an appointment with Doctor M—my doctor retired. I have a pill caddy. I need to make sure I keep filling it. You know what I mean. I can’t let it empty. Would I be open to a female doctor? I can see her—a meet and greet—on July 4—OK. Hello, Doctor SN. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Here’s my medical history. That’s right, it is imperative, lifesaving, I need to remain medicated. Sometimes, I throw-up when I eat. One bite—fifteen-minutes of puking. I know, gross, right? My BP is in the normal to low range these days. The pill-popping is working. Yeah, I try to work out regularly, and I play tennis. It’s been a bit tougher this year because my brain was denied oxygen for a few moments back in January. My body is trying to reset, so to speak . I didn’t need to ask about your fitness; you have fine muscles. I laughed. Do we French kiss now? My last doctor always French necked with me. Something about: it’s the only way to get a proper diagnosis. Cutting edge stuff. Why are you looking at me like that? Whew, I didn’t say the last few sentences aloud; a way to go, brain filter. I will order my complete medical records and get them to you soon. And I will make a list of how many refills of my prescriptions I have left. Lindsay, I’ve prepared a list of things that will help you, probably alleviate your vomiting urge.
Thank you, are you, my new doctor, now? Oh, do you want me to be your patient? You do, fantastic. I will see you again soon. My new doctor prescribed honey, brilliant! And her writing is legible: what the hell is going on? || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
|I Wrote|
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Ed Sheeran - Plastic Bag (Live From Alex's Living Room)
LW Art
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
| |||||||||||||||||
7th
Meet the Restaurateurs
Up Next ↓↓↓
Contents
Humans' Bistro (on the prep table)
This Colour = In The Production Lab (Subject to creative license).
Cover Art: Lindsay Wincherauk
↑↑↑ LW original art ↑↑↑
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
A Book Passage or |a poem|
I remember training a guy around the time I was six years in. He'd been hired at five dollars more an hour than I was making, 31 percent more. I asked around. We weren't allowed to discuss pay. But we weren't allowed to smoke pot and most of us did. We weren't allowed to work on opiates either. We were all working hurt. I can't handle opiates. But if I'd wanted them, there were plenty of guys stealing from customers' bathrooms. I could've bought what I needed after any team meeting.
That's the thing they don't tell you about opiate addiction. People are in pain because unless you went to college, the only way you'll earn a decent living is by breaking your body or risking your life . . . - Leaving Isn't the Hardest Thing: Essays by Lauren Hough This |A Poem|
I can’t take care of my family anymore. Can you imagine what it feels like when you are 63 years old? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to ask for help at my age? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to beg? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Should I confess how much I’m hurting inside? - Lindsay Wincherauk 
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.
9. General Population
Every Child Belongs in the Picture
10 July 2018 I can’t move. I sit in my vehicle. An overwhelming feeling of emptiness is swallowing me. I feel defeated. Tears pour from my eyes. I need to eradicate whatever the fuck I’m feeling from my mind. I can’t find it; how can I rid myself of something I am not responsible for — my mother never loved me. The proof came in a letter. The last opportunity to acknowledge me, anything, instead; stabbing realities were inserted into my heart, reminding me of a pain I thought I had let go of years earlier. Now, with my birthday on the horizon acting as a reminder of my non-existence, I can’t find a way to move forward. So, I write. I’m sorry for all who’ve endured similar destinies. We must be strong. It’s not our fault. The sun blazes down. I feel nauseous. I feel alone. I don’t want to trouble anyone with me. I’m worth something. Fuck you people for not acknowledging my existence. Fuck you for making me doubt every step of my journey. Fuck you for the tears. From birth being a secret never to be told to the last words coming in the form of an emotionless $2,500, I need to get up, dust myself off, and love. My birthday belongs to me—nobody can take that away from me. Every child belongs in the picture! Sparkly, I’m fortunate; I have been blessed with the warmth and beauty only found in tears. And in April, I received news a dear friend died. I became emotionally spent. I took a day I need a break. I have a week of vacation time left. I think I will take it the week of Remembrance Day in order to have the following Monday off to regroup. By doing so, I can go away for five or six days and not feel rushed back and forced to immediately begin work just as exhausted as before the break. (16) Quit whining. You can’t have Monday off. We don’t have the coverage. I remain silent. Those last eleven words foreshadow a truth I never knew existed. The number sixteen is circled on the calendar. You only get three weeks, the sixteen screams clarity. You took a day off in April. This has nothing to do with me, Sam says. You Know-- You know—weren’t the ones who wrote sixteen and then framed it in a circle spun through my mind. You did, Sam not, YOU KNOW. We don’t have the coverage, Sam continued. OK, I’ll come in, don’t worry about it, my well-being isn’t important. Conversation over—there is nothing more to say. If I die today or tomorrow or— Now, I just go to work—replaceable in a single heartbeat. Thirteen years into my work-world for a company, more than one hundred+ events on my own time, and it all comes down to a circle. It’s your own fault. You don’t stand up for yourself. Who is the fucker who just said that? || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
|I Wrote|
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Ed Sheeran - Blue (Live From Sarom's Living Room)
LW Art
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
| |||||||||||||||||
8th
Meet the Restaurateurs
Up Next ↓↓↓
Contents
Humans' Bistro (on the prep table)
This Colour = In The Production Lab (Subject to creative license).
Cover Art: Lindsay Wincherauk
↑↑↑ LW original art ↑↑↑
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
A Book Passage or |a poem|
All of these point to a truth that I had been wrestling with for most of my life, ever since my father first fell sick: old trauma never really goes away. We might build our lives to accomodate its presence or ignore it altogehter, but it can still be seen—sometimes faintly, sometimes obviously—no matter what. The respectable armour we wear can only hide the scars—of war, of racism, of generational conflict, of loss—for so long.
- SUPERFAN by Jen Sookfong Lee This |A Poem|
I can’t take care of my family anymore. Can you imagine what it feels like when you are 63 years old? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to ask for help at my age? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to beg? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Should I confess how much I’m hurting inside? - Lindsay Wincherauk 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.
9. General Population
I’m grateful I’ve been given a voice. I’m lucky the days are, for the most part: great—despite the illness challenging my being + even with the gauntlet of medicine, each with a purpose—at times, their purpose conflict with each other. Mood swings + depression jump off the side-effects listing. I’m happy to say my mood is solid + apart from this rant: I’m not depressed.
Or Something It had been a long time since I spent time with the entire G family, probably ten or fifteen years. Two of the G brothers and I worked at a rocking Keg Steakhouse in Regina—our time together was mostly a liquid blur. Swilling liquids led to a strong bond. Mrs. G, their mother, reminds me every time I see her that she needs to wash my mouth out with soap. Her reasoning stems from a phone conversation I had with one of her sons where I pleaded with him to play tennis with me on a gloriously sunny prairie day. My pleading consisted of a five-minute rant comprised of a particular “f” word being the only word used with Mrs. G listening in on the other line. I plead entrapment. The years slipped by, and now, in August 2017, the G clan came together in Vancouver. They asked me to join them. We reminisced about the past and caught up on where life had taken us. Mrs. G pulled out some liquid soap. Time to part company arrived. G2 asked me, Seed, do you have a girlfriend? No, I’m fine, I replied. G2 fired back, What are you, gay or something? No words. The moment the beer is set down in front of me, a loud sound of cranking gears emanates through the pub. It’s coming from the craning neck of a man with two (Gs) at the end of his name. Which is now glaring my way from across the bar. I’m still easing my two-month list from my mind; Rob isn’t interested anyway. Everybody who asks such dribbling questions never is. We shift over five-seats, closer to GG (man), and I order another beer, and I go home. || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
|I Wrote|
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Ed Sheeran - American Town (Live From Kari's Living Room)
LW Art
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
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9th
Meet the Restaurateurs
Up Next ↓↓↓
Contents
Humans' Bistro (on the prep table)
This Colour = In The Production Lab (Subject to creative license).
Cover Art: Lindsay Wincherauk
↑↑↑ LW original art ↑↑↑
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
A Book Passage or |a poem|
The need to aspire, to become something better than we already are, is the direct symptom of capitalism, which sounds terribly heavy, because it is. But it's also a pretty simple truth. A capitalist society thrives on individuals feeling as if they are never enough and can never have enough. Countless products promise to fix that lack, and we imbue the products we buy with power because we are desperate to fill that yawning emptiness. What we forget, in the adrenaline rush of buying more stuff, is that the hunger can never be satisfied. It's a long, toxic con, with capitalism promising happiness in a shopping cart, but then upping the ante so that just when we think we are done, another product or path to happiness appears, leaving us to continue grabbing at what we can, whether we can afford it or not.
- SUPERFAN by Jen Sookfong Lee This |A Poem|
I can’t take care of my family anymore. Can you imagine what it feels like when you are 63 years old? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to ask for help at my age? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to beg? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Should I confess how much I’m hurting inside? - Lindsay Wincherauk 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.
9. General Population
12 12 12 12 12 12
Hey, Mr. Chuck, it’s good to see you on this glorious Sunday. Hello, Toby. Chuck are you dead? Yes. But let’s reminisce a bit if that is okay with you. It’s the first time I’ve seen Toby in months. Lindsay, I’m sorry for the way I behaved last time, Toby says. Apology accepted. A good thing because destiny happened to be loading it on thick. I was facing a trying life gauntlet. I wanted to escape into nothingness. I enjoyed this day to lack depth. I’d soon be travelling to Calgary to say hello to my mother alongside her deathbed. I would like to take a moment to scream LIFE LESSON—but what came next is self-explanatory. Lindsay, here’s all the crap from my life. Let me shovel it on top of you. Let me tell you about this, and this, and this, and this, and this. I’m not done. There is another pile of my challenges over here. let me get them for you. The apology was unaccepted. I wonder if she’ll ask about my life. That’s a lie. I never wondered that. You know I almost died. The doctors didn’t give me much of a chance. Listen to me. Chuck is a loveable cantankerous man in his seventies. He’s losing his faculties. Luckily, his razor-sharp wit seems to be staying intact. Toby drones on, and I’m defeated. Chuck comes to the rescue. Shut the fuck up. Could you talk about something, anything, other than your misery? Shut up. Prompt rejected. Lindsay, I almost died. They were going to pull the plug. Will you be my medical guardian? I know you won’t allow them to pull the plug. Chuck rescues me more and grins at me coyly. Lindsay, I have something for you, I got a shipment in today. He pulls his right hand from around his back, thrusting it in my face. Would you like one of these? I focus on his hand. He’s pressing a shiny pair of toenail clippers into my hand. I accept. Previous Random Gifts from Chuck
Chuck died a few weeks after this meeting. RIP: CHUCK THOMSON 12 12 12 12 12 12 || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
|I Wrote|
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Ed Sheeran - That's On Me (Live From Narine's Living Room)
LW Art
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
| |||||||||||||||||
10th
Meet the Restaurateurs
Up Next ↓↓↓
Contents
Humans' Bistro (on the prep table)
This Colour = In The Production Lab (Subject to creative license).
Cover Art: Lindsay Wincherauk
↑↑↑ LW original art ↑↑↑
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
A Book Passage or |a poem|
Adults also bluntly asked What are you? and even as a child it was clear to me that the question was meant to impose a kind of order to the politics people kept in their heads. Eventually, the individuals question became more sinister: Where are you really from? For me and the racialized people I am close to, this is the most dreaded quesiont a white person could ask, precisely because it presupposes the where we are—here, in Canada—can't possibly be our real home, and that genuine answer is simple, the name of the country that will magically settle all confusion.
- SUPERFAN by Jen Sookfong Lee This |A Poem|
I can’t take care of my family anymore. Can you imagine what it feels like when you are 63 years old? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to ask for help at my age? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to beg? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Should I confess how much I’m hurting inside? - Lindsay Wincherauk 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.
9. General Population
Thanks for listening, Sparkly; I hope I didn’t drone on too much.
Fascinating, Linds; it’s fucking amazing you have survived this far. Have I? You have; I’m glad you created me. Sparkly, are you drunk? A little; I had five pints. Sparkly? Yes. Wait, Linds… burp… there we crushed so many monsters in this story, but you know what? We’re not done yet; I know there is more pain, creatures you must rid from your nights. The stairs are just over there; we need to run, up, up, up, away to 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, and 2022. 1… 2… 3 → Run. || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
|I Wrote|
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Ed Sheeran - Page (Live From Deborah's Living Room)
LW Art
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
| |||||||||||||||||
11th
Meet the Restaurateurs
Up Next ↓↓↓
Contents
Humans' Bistro (on the prep table)
This Colour = In The Production Lab (Subject to creative license).
Cover Art: Lindsay Wincherauk
↑↑↑ LW original art ↑↑↑
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
A Book Passage or |a poem|
The Marquis scratched the side of his nose, "Young man," he said, "understand this: there are two Londons. There's London Above—that's where you lived—and then there's London Below—the Underside—inhabited by the people who fell through the cracks in the world. Now you're one of them. Good night."
- Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman This |A Poem|
I can’t take care of my family anymore. Can you imagine what it feels like when you are 63 years old? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to ask for help at my age? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to beg? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Should I confess how much I’m hurting inside? - Lindsay Wincherauk 
A powerful, eye-opening work.
How did the book make me feel/think? “SUPERFAN” (memoir) by Jen Sookfong Lee is a powerful, eye-opening work, offering a candid exploration of Lee’s experiences as a Canadian-born (Canadian) woman (mother) in Canada and as a writer in a predominately white-run publishing industry. Lee tackles themes of identity, discrimination, and the challenges of belonging in a world that may not always be accepting of those who are considered “other.” Lee’s courage to share her life, warts, and all, highlights the importance of the need for greater cultural understanding and empathy. Some individuals, particularly those from the dominant culture (white), are often hesitant to engage with the experiences and perspectives of people from different backgrounds, potentially out of fear or insecurity. Lee’s nuanced call for readers to step outside their comfort zones and listen to the stories of others without preconceived notions or judgements is valuable. Lee must be commended for her courage in sharing her experiences subtly and parallel with how Pop Culture shapes our lives and encouraging readers, especially from the dominant culture (white), to broaden their perspectives and become more open to the experiences of others. The book also explores the double standards faced by mothers who write compared to male writers, which is a thought-provoking aspect of Lee’s memoir. A male writer can be a drunk, and it benefits his brand. Whereas female writers can never escape society’s expectations of them to be nurturers. I’m white and from Saskatchewan originally. And never once has someone asked, “Where are you originally from?” This reality underscores the different experiences people from diverse backgrounds encounter. It’s a reminder of the importance of recognizing and addressing biases and assumptions that may inadvertently contribute to discrimination or othering. We, whites, need to step out of our comfort zones and understand our life experiences are not the only ones that matter. Reading “SUPERFAN” is an excellent starting point! WRITTEN: 11 October 2023 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.
9. General Population
Linds?
Yes, Sparkly. Can we go back to The Sleeping Seagull for a few more pops? I am trying to figure out what that place even is. Is it a bookstore, a pub, or a restaurant? Sparkly, it’s all three. Sparkly goes into the back room. … … The Sleeping Seagull’s Bookshelf Lindsay Glue Chasing Neon Said the White Guy Canned: Fired @59 The Domain of Lindsay The Stairs I Don’t Have a Tent Elephants in Rooms Temps Bottom 10 Ask Seed Bill Maher (Woke) TWAOADND Sparkly Pingle Ball A 60-ish-Year-Old Stickman Hana the Cat ePhemeral Harlan Tru + Joy Preference Perdita Thumbs Up Word Salad Once Upon A Time Life Without Mirrors 48% Norwegian Before Today One Woman, Two Families Reflect The Last Plastic Bag Mood Walk Howard Runway Feature Wall How to Tell if Your Partner… Marriage IIRWST,INL Heaven’s Waiting Room We Are All This Life Drug Store Sandwich Board Yoga Scott The Podcaster WDWDWOH Scott the Educator Mayor, Postman, Writer, + 2G Night Talkers The Seawall The Playground Quadrathon Not Raised in a Const… Coffee Shop Coffee Shop 2 Mincey Beyond the Meat Stanley - Resurrected This Table Sister Bar Let’s Cut Off Our Hands RJ: Bad Medicine Stanley’s 3rd Cousin Gigantic Hooker Box Bernard: The Piano Teacher Coffee Table Book TMWWBD50T Photos: Vol 1 I Think Ask Seed What Old People See Stanley’s (Great-Great Uncle) Photos: Vol 2 New Book (Stories) Do I Look Okay? The Last Plastic Bag Stanley’s Aunt Helen Photos: Vol 3 Laugh Jim Stands on His Head Water Skiing Fail My Momma Brings Oil… Photos: Vol 4 Horse Shoes Prison Food The Lottery 60-Year-Old-Man Running… 60 (My Friday) Must Fob In Friend Purge The Step Godfather The Greatest Book Title Ever The Confessional I Have a Guy The Restaurant Murdered The Missing Orange Ball Airport Bestseller Cereal Killer Fat Blob Eat: A Living Doc… Human Zoo Human’s Bistro Svelte Mississippi Put Down the Fork I Drank This We Ate This I Ate This Best Burgers Best Ramen Best Chicken Best Pizza Not a Poet: 1 Not a Poet: 2 Not a Poet: 3 Escape Route Plus 15 Reapers Death Sauce Perfect Bubble Prison Idol Prose Arc Hogan’s Superhero White Cat Go Before You Go E.X.P.E.R.I.M.E.N.T.A.L || Completed Manuscripts
|I Wrote|
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Ed Sheeran - Midnight (Live From John's Living Room)
LW Art
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
| |||||||||||||||||
12th
Up Next ↓↓↓
Contents
Humans' Bistro (on the prep table)
This Colour = In The Production Lab (Subject to creative license).
Cover Art: Lindsay Wincherauk
↑↑↑ LW original art ↑↑↑
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
A Book Passage or |a poem|
I matched his halting pace out the double doors into the brutal heat, where we mad our way along a manicured sidewalk under drooping elms, their slender leaves curled with thirst.
- The Girl in the Ice by Erica Ferencik This |A Poem|
I can’t take care of my family anymore. Can you imagine what it feels like when you are 63 years old? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to ask for help at my age? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to beg? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Should I confess how much I’m hurting inside? - Lindsay Wincherauk 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.
9. General Population
Sparkly and I arrive back at The Sleeping Seagull. He grabs us pints, and we retreat to a corner booth.
My mind runs further into 2018. July August September October November December I continue to tell my story to Sparkly. He was blown away by the worker stories, and the fact I survived a fucking stroke. I survived a stroke and the monsters I worked for didn’t give me a single day off. And then, starting now, June, for the next twelve months (June 2018-May 2019), Sam operating on the instructions of The Other Guy, and Fernando, grew fangs and asked me repeatedly. || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
|I Wrote|
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Ed Sheeran - Spring (Live From Emily's Living Room)
LW Art
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
| ||||||||||||||
13th
Up Next ↓↓↓
Contents
Humans' Bistro (on the prep table)
This Colour = In The Production Lab (Subject to creative license).
Cover Art: Lindsay Wincherauk
↑↑↑ LW original art ↑↑↑
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
A Book Passage or |a poem|
A DJ who tries to please other people is useless, they'll bomb every time. You're either a dealer or you're a whore, you have to choose. Molly only passes on the best shit, the stuff that gets her high. She's not the slightest bit interested in other people's desires. Sadie infiltrates that high, slips into those background passages carved out by a curiosity she lacks. She gets her fix by entering somone elses home through the keyhole.
- Sadie X by Clara Dupuis-Morency This |A Poem|
I can’t take care of my family anymore. Can you imagine what it feels like when you are 63 years old? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to ask for help at my age? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to beg? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Should I confess how much I’m hurting inside? - Lindsay Wincherauk 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.
9. General Population
Sparkly returns. Sparkly discovered over 100 books, all written by the same author.
Linds; you wrote all the books? Sure did, Sparkles. When do you sleep? That’s the thing, never. Let’s head back to The Sleeping Seagull; I have more dreams to share. … … Jay, what are you doing here? Can I walk with you for a few blocks? We walk. I’m feeling feeble, off, and scared; what’s wrong? My legs feel weak. When people walk in front of me it feels like they are intentionally getting in my way. I’m feeling confused. A young guy walks toward me. He’s wearing red sweatpants; that’s the only thing I notice; the red catches my eye. He barks out; “It’s a pizza box.” This startles me. Why is he barking at me? He walks a few paces past us, stops, and then yells again. I turn around. He thrusts the pizza box in front of him and screams, “Do you want to take a picture?” I’m no longer confused. He’s mentally disorganized, and he’s challenging me to a fight. I hoped he was offering a slice of pie. Jay asks what the fuck was that? I deduce he thought I was staring at him, then I conclude: Nah, I’m not the only one to whom he does shit like this. Red sweat pants guy pissed Jay off. I’m feeling vulnerable. I wasn’t scared of this asshole, however; I’m feeling off. What type of world do we live in where a fucking kid would challenge a sixty-two-year-old man on the street to a rumble? If I had a bit on his challenge, I’d likely have been arrested for what I would have done. Jay pulls out a napkin and lovingly wipes the corner of my mouth. I feel old. I growl. Jay was loving, and I fucking growled. I need to behave better. I couldn’t find the strength because I was feeling old and vulnerable. … … || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
|I Wrote|
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Ed Sheeran - Punchline (Live From Holly's Living Room)
LW Art
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
| ||||||||||||||
14th
Up Next ↓↓↓
Contents
Humans' Bistro (on the prep table)
This Colour = In The Production Lab (Subject to creative license).
Cover Art: Lindsay Wincherauk
↑↑↑ LW original art ↑↑↑
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
A Book Passage or |a poem|
. . . there was nowhere she was welcome, it was almost the death of her. That's why when she arrived in Marseille it was a matter of survival for her to create her own scum space, her own place, which would welcome anyone who wanted to change the system, even if only for one night. The sewers are open to anyone who wants to go down there and forget the laws of the sun for a while, she says.
At night, Veronica is no longer Brazilian, no longer trans, no longer a body that had to withstand all that pain. Veronica is proud scum, dancing. - Sadie X by Clara Dupuis-Morency This |A Poem|
I can’t take care of my family anymore. Can you imagine what it feels like when you are 63 years old? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to ask for help at my age? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to beg? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Should I confess how much I’m hurting inside? - Lindsay Wincherauk 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.
9. General Population
Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank? Do you want to run the Blank-Blank-Blank?
My Reply No. No. No. Never. No. No. No. No. Never. No. No. No. No. Never. No. No. No. No. Never. No. No. No. No. Never. No. Seriously? Seriously, Sparkly, I’m deep inside a waking nightmare. || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
|I Wrote|
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Ed Sheeran - When Will I Be Alright (Live From Kristen's Living Room)
LW Art
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
| ||||||||||||||
15th
Up Next ↓↓↓
Contents
Humans' Bistro (on the prep table)
This Colour = In The Production Lab (Subject to creative license).
Cover Art: Lindsay Wincherauk
↑↑↑ LW original art ↑↑↑
Want More of Lindsay Today Click PDF Above↑↑↑
A Book Passage or |a poem|
Meanwhile, they say, A virus cannot reproduce itslf. A virus has no offspring. A virus does not give life, it only recieves it. It has neither ancestors nor decendants. Before it encounters the cell, it is completely inert. The virus infects the cell and takes over its reproductive mechanism to produce copies of itself. A proper hijacking, the virus preying on the irreducible structure of life. The invader instates a simple but effective regime of occupation. Once inside the cell, the virus has almost nothing to do, because the other thing is that it's lazy. A good occupying force, reassuring, promising a smooth transition: oh no, don't change a thing, keep doing everything you were doing before, we're still running the same program, we're just going to change the prodcution a little, you'll see, everything will go smoothly. Viruses just live off beings who are gifted with life. They're nothing more than fucking trolls of the living. That's what the guardians of knowledge say.
- Sadie X by Clara Dupuis-Morency This |A Poem|
I can’t take care of my family anymore. Can you imagine what it feels like when you are 63 years old? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to ask for help at my age? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Do you know what it feels like to beg? Let me tell you, it feels like this. Should I confess how much I’m hurting inside? - Lindsay Wincherauk 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.
9. General Population
And when they didn’t like my answer, they asked:
Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not? My Reply If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. If I have another stroke, it might kill me. || More to come...
Completed Manuscripts
|I Wrote|
I want to make a difference in this world!
Fresh Art
Ed Sheeran - The Day I Was Born (Live From Danielle's Living Room)
LW Art
books ~ photos ~ food ~ comedy ~ tennis
| ||||||||||||||
16th
Meet the Hyenas (Currently in the Production Lab)
Up Next ↓↓↓
Contents
Humans' Bistro (on the prep table)
This Colour = In The Production Lab (Subject to creative license).
Cover Art: Lindsay Wincherauk
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