Historectomy – Brexit edition

Those who do not learn from history represent 100% of the human population.

We have plenty of examples where ignoring history has preceded disaster, and in some cases, preceded a very similar event or process. But correlation does not indicate causation. For one thing, I cannot think of a single example where someone stood up and cited something from history, thereby averting a disaster.

That said, I adore the study of history and so playfully offer the following commentaries on recent efforts to “make Britain great again.”

GreatImmigrationLordy

 

 

Fears and tears

solitude-and-leadership

Tears come unbidden, unwelcome,

Blurring my vision,

But refusing to fall.

It’s the wind.

It’s a cold.

It’s allergies.

Anything but sadness,

Anger, frustration.

Throat clenches;

Chest tightens;

But the scream

Will not come;

Restricted in my lungs,

Blocked by still sealed lips.

So much pain;

So much sorrow.

The pulse quickens.

The mind races.

But legs remain static.

I run away

By running inward;

Afraid to cry

For fear of never stopping.

My silence deafens me;

Acrid saline blinds me;

Anguish deadens my soul;

And yet, I feel it all.

(Un)social media

Okay, so for the sake of another writing gig, I have finally signed up to Twitter…pith not being a particular skill of mine, I figured confinement to a mere 140 characters could only help my screenwriting (shorter dialogue, less narrative).

Of course, the brilliant thing about Twitter is, like all other forms of social media, it is totally disconnected from the people with whom I am connecting. Thus, it is a safe place to be myself…sort of.

Social media was developed by introverts in a vain attempt to camoflage their introversion…how can I be introverted when I am telling so many people so much stuff? Sure, there is the immediacy of the message…the feeling of common cause with others of like interests…the ill-considered photos of people in the all-together. But if I really wanted to communicate in any of these ways, I could also stand in a room full of people and talk out loud.

Several years ago, while taking sketch comedy writing classes at the Second City Training Centre in Toronto, I wrote a sketch about a brand new social medium that I called Face-to-Facebook. I offer a couple of lines from the sketch below:

JAN  (SURPRISED) Face-to-Facebook? How’s it work?

TED  Well, let’s say that I want to tell you our infomercial will start 15 minutes earlier than scheduled. I simply turn to you and say, “Hey Janet, our informercial is going to start 15 minutes earlier than scheduled.”

JAN  (AMAZED) Wow! It’s that easy?

TED  Yes, it is. (TO AUDIENCE) Face-to-Facebook puts the “instant” back into “instant messaging”.

and

TED  Hey Janet. “less than” “colon” “hyphen” “capital P” “greater than” (<:-P>)

JAN  (CONFUSED) What is that supposed to mean, Ted?

TED  It was just me sticking my tongue out at you in emoticon. (TO AUDIENCE) Aren’t emoticons annoying? But with Face-to-Facebook, you no longer have to worry about deciphering these strange little creatures. If you want to know if I’m happy, just look at my face. (HE SMILES)

JAN  That’s amazing! (QUESTIONING) But tell me, Ted; is Face-to-Facebook secure?

TED  Secure? The best thing about Face-to-Facebook is that no matter how hard he tries, only a blind kid would confuse a 45-year-old pedophile with a 13-year-old school girl. (OFFHANDED) And who needs blind kids, anyway?

Everyone laughed (LOLed, in fact), but I wonder how many people actually saw themselves as my target. I know I did.

So in my never-ending efforts to reach out and not actually touch someone, I have now added yet another way to annoy people with my self-important drivel.

You’re welcome.

PS I’ve linked all of my social networks together, so if the Internet comes crashing down in a couple of seconds because of a message loop, my bad.

PPS Forgot to include my Twitter address: @createdbyrcw (that’s right, I said PP)

Poster from my sketch comedy show at Toronto's Second City Theatre (part of the SC Training Centre)

Poster from my sketch comedy show at Toronto’s Second City Theatre (part of the SC Training Centre)

Horse Island

A novel I had started working on a while ago as part of a Humber College workshop on opening pages; i.e., how to attract the eye of acquisition editors.

Really need to get back to this.

Sasha had never had her breasts go numb before.

Sure, she’d lost feeling in her fingers and had suffered frostbitten toes more than once, but this was something else altogether. But then, she’d also never spent six hours prone on a rock in the middle of the North Atlantic.

Sasha had fought off sleep for the last two hours, listening to the rhythm of the waves that charged the beach that sprawled below her. Now that the sun had started to peek above the horizon, she could focus her attention on the dark shapes floating just offshore, knowing that not all of them would be pieces of driftwood slowly making their way from the seaside forests of Newfoundland.

“Get used to this,” she thought to herself. “You’ll probably spend your next four or five Springs this way.”

It was definitely a far cry from the relative civility of her life in Toronto—although maybe sterility was a better way of describing it. The sounds and flavours of the ocean did, however, remind her of the summers she spent with her grandparents at the family home just outside of Halifax.

Funny, she thought, this was the first time she’d thought—allowed herself to think—about her grandparents. All those years spent trying to escape the East Coast and here she was, smack in the middle of it again.

Adjusting her position ever so slightly, Sasha grunted inwardly, trying to remain the silent sentinel while allowing her blood to circulate to her chilled extremities. But even as she settled back in, she knew that something was different. Something had changed in the surf. Some of the driftwood had started to move with purpose, making a beeline for the beach.

It was time to prepare her kit and call the others.

Image

(Okay, I don’t have any photos of Atlantic Canada, so I’m substituting this one from Tofino.)