Vignette

We Weren’t Always

We once had a black lab named Tricky, we wanted her to chase her tail so we put hummus on it and stared at her excitedly. She saw our excited faces so instead of chasing her tail she wagged it a lot and got hummus everywhere. So there we were all covered in hummus grinning at each other knowingly and feeling dumb. Because of course that is what would happen instead of what we wanted to happen. This is how you learn. Mistakes must occur. We weren’t always the calm collected cool geniuses you see before you. We had to be covered in hummus first.

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Conversation

12 Things

12 THINGS I HATE ABOUT EVERYONE

1. People who point at their wrist to ask for the time. I know where my watch is, pal, where the hell is yours. 2. People who say, “Oh you just want to have your cake and eat it too.” Fucking yeah I do, what good is cake if you just “have it.” 3. People who say, “It’s always the last place you look.” Of course it is. Why would you keep looking for something after you’ve found it? Do people do this? 4. People who say after watching a film, “Did you see that?” No, I paid a bunch of money to come to the theatre and stare at the damn floor. 5. People who ask, “Can I ask you a question?” Was there a choice? 6. When something is “new and improved.” Which is it. 7. When people say, “Life is short.” Life is the longest damn thing anyone ever does. What can a person do that’s longer? 8. When you’re waiting for the bus and someone asks, “Has the bus come yet?” If the bus had come, why would we still be standing there? 9. People who say, “He’s gone to a better place.” Oh yeah? And fucking you know that how? 10. People who don’t say hello, good morning, or thank you. 11. People who are high on themselves, people who act dumber than they are, people who are rude. 12. People.

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Vignette

Quiet Morning

I remember the first time Bassnectar called Dylan back when we still lived in Toronto and I descended into a loud fit of sneezing. I sneezed like seven times. The entire house shook and the bones in my chest reset. Afterward there was a pause. “What was that?” asked Lorin, afraid. “The thing about Nunich,” said Dylan, “is that she has very intense sneezes.” Years later, Dylan took me to Laos for my birthday. Laos is my motherland, and it’s unknown if I had ever even been there, since I don’t know exactly where I was born, whether in Laos, Vietnam or Thailand. On the first quiet morning bright with sunshine when we landed in Vientiane, I looked around and breathed the air in. Laos is a very poor and undeveloped country with dirt lanes and dry river beds, skinny barefoot children selling trinkets, dulcet women in traditional garments gazing silently, old men smoking and looking on. Laotians are famous for being beautiful, friendly, gentle and polite. I spent my whole life somewhere else so I didn’t feel any immediate connection. I just looked around and was lost in thought. The day was bright and hot, the sun shone inscrutably down upon all. We saw a thin frail old woman making her ancient way slowly toward us. Suddenly she sneezed so deafeningly as to convulse the town. The noise was loud as thunder, a high magnitude earthquake couldn’t have been more disruptive. But no one batted an eye. Just another hot humid day in Laos. Dylan and I looked at each other. “It’s the sneeze!” I said. “The sneeze of my people!”

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