Packing it in

Cardboard conundra;

A thousand puzzles

Demanding attention.

Sticky fingers clawing

Invisible seams;

Tortured screams

Muffle buried treasures.

Swaddled icons

Nestled strategically;

Memories layered

On things forgotten.

The paper-laden tomb

Of a modern day pharaoh;

Heiroglyphic notes

Of fumed pitch.

Life in a box

Awaiting release.

Image

Unintended misogyny

According to the Cambridge Dictionaries Onlinemisogyny (n) Feelings of hating women or the belief that men are much better than women.

Image

Let me state for the record that I do not hate women, but over the last decade or so, I have come to realize the insidious ways in which I felt (or made it appear that I felt) men to be superior to women.

As a male writer, I have historically written stories from the male perspective. My protagonists were male. My antagonists were male. My peripheral characters were predominantly male. And when I did include a female character, she tended to be rather two-dimensional (see also my blog post For my friend Emma).

Several years ago, I had the fortunate happenstance to take a sketch comedy writing class at Toronto’s Second City Training Centre under the guidance of actress and writer Aurora Browne, best known locally as one of the actors from the show Comedy Inc. and former mainstage performer at Second City. Perhaps not surprisingly, the class was mostly comprised of men. And to a man, we wrote sketches about guys.

After the first couple of classes, however, when we had each produced a few sketches, Aurora challenged the men in the room to either rewrite one of their existing sketches or write a completely new sketch with a woman (or several) in the lead.

It was at that moment that I realized my unintended misogyny.

Aurora was tired of trying to find material with strong and/or well-defined female characters. She was tired of simply playing the girlfriend, the ex-wife, the nurse, the teacher. Not that there was anything inherently wrong in playing any of these roles, but more that they were almost always written as two-dimensional…if they could even be said to aspire to a second dimension.

This was her opportunity to put her heels into the dirt in moulding the next generation of comedy writers.

From my perspective, the task was amazingly daunting and very surprising, as I found myself breaking down walls and obstructions I never realized I had put in place. I had to think how might a woman character function differently in this scene, without getting cliché, and how would that change the dynamics of the scene. Or even would it?

In the years since, no matter what I write—sketch, screenplay, teleplay, poem—I watch for places where I might fall into gender bias. The minute I decide on my main characters, I ask myself if the protagonist or antagonist could be a woman (sadly, I still typically default to males). If the answer is yes, then I take a second run at my idea to see which way would make for a better story.

As a result, I have both dramatically increased the repertoire of characters I can bring to life and greatly enriched my stories. In fact, the two most recent screenplays I am developing have female protagonists, as do a couple of my television pilot concepts—not out of a sense of political correctness or fairness, but because those choices made the most sense for the story.

So thanks, Aurora, for the creative kick upside the head.

(Illustration used without permission.)

Head banger

You seek, you tap, you listen,

Bobbing left and right.

Grasping a toehold,

Grasping at hope.

Brute force, divine strategy

Mingle into a dance

Both aerial and arborial.

Unceasing, unerring, uncaring

Of the lives you disrupt;

Your murderous needs

Foremost in your mind.

Survival of the fittest

In a war of millimetres.

Anger? Frustration? Agony?

Only ceaseless desire

For what you have not yet.

Image

Dauphin Lake

Virginal tableau of ice and snow,

Cloudless sky of photonic bliss,

Serenity whispers in my ear

And the universe rests.

A thunderous snap

Violently tears the silence

Only to be swallowed

By the gentle murmur

Of a newborn breeze.

Almost imperceptibly,

The tableau is broken;

Minor movements barely felt,

Tinny cracks inaudibly sensed.

Newly formed leaves turn to watch

The millimeter march of white

As snow and ice shift to shore.

Pushing, crawling, clawing,

An unrelenting progress

Of unimaginable ruin.

Unslaked with its beachhead,

It forces onward and inland,

Carving glacial paths toward homes.

Bending trees, crushing fences,

Invading homes, uprooting lives,

Until the breeze subsides

And serenity returns to the lake

To contrast broken lives.

Image

Image

(Images used without permission; copyright ctvnews.ca)

Learn more about the destruction at Dauphin Lake and our ongoing under-appreciation of Nature’s ability to take back what is hers.

I sight

I cannot see you

As you might wish,

But only as my eye allows.

Retinal engrams

Of old beliefs—

Blind spots

Emotional and real—

Shade the greys,

Colour the colours,

Frame light with dark,

Dark with light,

Until all I see

Is what I choose

To acknowledge,

To believe,

To understand.

I cannot see you

As you might wish;

Be glad I see

Any of you at all.

A slug eyes me eyeing him as it crosses a shrub near Tofino, BC

A slug eyes me eyeing him as it crosses a shrub near Tofino, BC

Seven words

Seven words

The lifespan of a conversation never had

Pain unrecognized invalidated

Anger unexpressed unbearable

Disappointment ingrained unappeased

Sadness unutterable unrelenting

Despair intolerable unfathomable

Acceptance impossible unreachable

Hope unthinkable unrealistic

I am sorry that I hurt you

Seven words

Image

Highway 401

Snowflakes hit the windshield / Like a swarm of angry bees

And are swept away as quickly / To make room for their brethren.

 

Clouds of frozen heaven / Scurry across the highway;

Riders on chaotic steeds / Dancing in a winter rodeo.

 

The car is buffeted / By the ever-changing winds,

And Zephyr’s howling wolves / Keep back all possible speech.

 

Ahead in the gloom, / Angry red eyes of devils

Waiver to and fro / Across sheets of black ice.

 

They slide into earthly clouds / Following well-worn lines,

The desperate marks of earlier travellers / In the uncertainty of the storm.

 

The normally limitless universe / Is bound on this night

By the visible few feet ahead.

The pathetic beams of headlights / Are white canes for blind drivers

Reaching cautiously into the unknown.

The phone call

Warble

Mounting tension, anxiety

Warble

Movement, lifting, listening

Enquiry

Commentary

Fire, pain

Denial

Heat, anger, accusation

Denial, response, anger

Profanity, wrath, threats

Pain, ire, disappointment

Accusation, fire

Denial, frustration

Heat, threat

A slam, a sob

Warble

Exhaustion

A macabre mask captures the anger and pain I overheard in the phone call. (Created by an incredible metal-working artist in Chilliwack, BC)

A macabre mask captures the anger and pain I overheard in the phone call. (Created by an incredible metal-working artist in Chilliwack, BC)