A Different Kind of Midnight Snack. Once again I awoke to the sound of a light crunching or stirring of mac and cheese or possible cat getting sick noise. I think Great, is my cat throwing up again? Like a good horror movie always starts out, I grow anxious wondering what am I going to see when I turn on the light. It left a nasty l.

A short address to the poet in me. What is this I feel. Stirrings of the writer in me, long since thought dead. Now, as in the past, reborn with the setting sun and melancholic tunes. How I love you, oh innermost part of me. That you were a dame, I would embrace you and warm kisses plant upon your cheeks that be smoother than honey. Never depart from me, though my mind ever mundane and technical become.

The Kawartha Craft Beer Festival.

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Traveling from one neuron to another exploring mental illness and self-discovery. The Friend of My Youth. I Think I Met a Murderer. I think I met a murderer and he called himself Reverend.