A Novel, Yet Unwritten

Please enjoy the opening pages to something that I wrote ages ago, which are obviously an introduction of some sort, but to what I have no idea. At all. I obviously never finished, which is generally how things work when I only manage to write during creative bursts of energy. But...enjoy!

She knew him. Not particularly well, mind you, or with exceeding fondness or affection of any sort. He simply was a character in the cast of her life - a sort of glorified extra, milling in the background, exchanging empty pleasantries from time to time. His name was Bob, she thought. Maybe Phillip.

It was an odd thing, knowing someone who had died - who had, days ago, presumably been living and somewhat happy, and who now was nothing but a drowned, empty corpse. She did not feel sad, but there was some sort of pain or indigestion deep in her gut. She surmised that it might be shock, or loss, or perhaps just the lingering memory of a hefty sandwich.

The man in question had drowned, it seemed, less than fifty feet from the docks of the cottage where he was staying. His canoe drifted ashore, empty, strewn with half a dozen beer cans. A missing persons report had been filed, and an executive decision to drag the lake was made, allowing for a timely recovering of the body. But what exactly had happened? She supposed Bob and/or Philip might have passed out from drinking, though that didn’t seem overly likely. She wasn’t certain Bob had been a heavy drinker. He didn’t seem the type, although really, it’s not like alcoholics have a certain look about them...and that’s neither here nor there. He could have smacked his head on something, although the coroner’s report didn’t mention any signs of a struggle. Speaking of which, perhaps some ruffian had drowned Bob, and then absconded, staging the canoe and the beer cans...but that seemed far fetched, especially for a man without any obvious wealth, gang allegiances, or personal characteristics worth pinning down besides ‘adult caucasian male.’

Who had found the body? A cottage-town neighbour - not a doting, dumpy wife, or attractive, bare-chested homosexual lover, or weepy, traumatized four year old daughter - nothing to colour in the edges of the man Bob might have been. Or Philip. She flipped to the third page of the report to fill in the missing details - Robert Jeffrey Enid, age forty-two and two months. Single. Caucasian. Male. A Gemini, if that means anything.

No children listed. His body had been identified and collected by his mother, who flew into town for the purpose. The death was ruled accidental with no foul play suspected. Case closed. Goodbye to Bob, whoever you are. Or, were. Whoever Bob was, and isn’t now, goodbye.

She turned away from the open file and began to type.

Riots and Rainbows

The dust has settled and life has returned to semi-normalcy in Vancouver following Wednesday night’s Stanley Cup defeat and subsequent drunken rampage of doom.

A lot has been said about the post-game riot and the aftermath...about how ashamed we feel of the rioters, about how stupid their behaviours were and how we’d love to see them punished, about how we’d like to all think that we’d never torch a police car and drunkenly loot a London Drugs, but in the right place at the right time with enough alcohol and riotous company we may have done the very same.

I’ve got nothing to say pertaining to the above points that hasn’t been said already and with fewer run-on sentences, so let’s move on to happier thoughts.

The upside of Vancouver’s Stanley Cup Riot!

Yes, there was carnage, and flames, and a few people were stabbed and that one kid is still in critical condition. But, on the other hand, that kissing couple is freaking adorable...

This cuteness would never have happened if it wasn't for car-torching hooligans!

And, in a plus that’s been sadly and inexplicably overlooked by all media coverage to date, these riots were a perfect example of racial inclusion and harmony.

Damn straight.

Look at the photographic evidence: while the rioters were mostly young and male, the crowd could not be more racially diverse. Citizens of every colour joined together to smash and loot...except for black people, because we, um, don’t have many of those.

But we DO have fire.

When was the last time you saw members of such diverse communities, all in one place, all working together towards a common goal? When was the last time you took the time to say to a person of another ethnic background: “would you like to join in with me and throw a burning trash can through the window of this store?”

It's like a diversity rainbow. But with smashing stuff.

We have seen the face of racial inclusion and togetherness. And it’s not a bunch of kids from different countries, holding hands while standing on a crudely drawn globe. It’s these kids, drunk and looting their neighbourhood department store. Which is pretty much the same thing, right?