Journalism is dyingRead More
The world absolutely didn’t, but I had a great year. So I Love You Honeybear wasn’t my album of the year; it was the album of my year.Read More
Just west of the Village is a room with brick walls, a red floor, and a black stage. On the floor are tables, on the walls are art, and on the stage are microphones. Sitting at the tables are people, waiting for the official start of the official launch of the second edition of Spectra Journal.Read More
Nobody said a word in the NDP office as the election results came in—not a word, until one staffer yelled a very loud, very long expletive.Read More
It’s surprising that more people don’t find prisons surprising. Isn’t there something inherently illogical about thinking that because you’ve locked somebody up for however many months or years, that they will come out of incarceration as somebody who won’t commit a crime again? Where does that assumption come from?Read More
In the next measure he smiles, and turns. “Here,” he says to me. He picks up his drumsticks. He unfolds his legs. He rolls over to the window, where there’s a black drum pad, a rubber hexagon perched on a stand between an electric keyboard and the wall.
“This is the single stroke roll.”Read More