"Don't be here in ten years." – The Factory Line

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East-End White Trash

East-End White Trash

 

The East-End,

For all its flaws,

Remains now

The only place to find

Hard working people

Just looking for a life

Of family, pride and labour.

 

Sainte-Claire

And Des Ormeaux

The small houses of Beaugrand

And the dead cement of Montreal-East,

The old alleys of Palumbo feed us

And the port still lights out way

As we count the blessing of Bellerive.

 

People of humble means

Simply content

And carrying on

With that quiet resignation

Knowing time will forget them

But laboring away as they only know.

 

Time are changing

But slower here.

The factories have left

But the tracks carve a canyon, still.

The churches have gone empty

But the schools remain full.

Do more with less

And something out of not much.

We have been used to this

A long, long time ago.

 

Yet, after all the trends have gone…

Done taking away this city’s soul.

As neighbourhood

After neighbouhood

Goes under the ravages

Of gentrification

 

We’ll still be here.

At the end of the line

They won’t be looking our way.

We are quite certain of this.

 

The face of the working class.

And the last of the honest fools.

East-End,

White Trash.

New Year – New Photo shoot

My photos were long overdue and so I was lucky enough to get the very talented Josee Brouillard onboard.

Here are five of the unedited shots from that shoot.

One Trick that Helped me Ditch Pepsi

Or Coke, or soda or pop or whatever the name you give to high sugar beverages in your area.

I’m not THE hyper-fit guy (I’m a writer god damn it!) but I was going pretty fat a little over two years ago. I was witnessing the birth of my second daughter and was about to hit 210… My glory days, it seemed, were behind me. I am not back to 180 and in the best shape of my life. And now it’s Feb. and the gym is full of “resolutionners” and so I will allow myself this “health post”.

There was a time, in my twenties, when I could tank 4 or 5 cans of Pepsi a day and piss them twenty minutes later and I’d still only weight 180. I was training and running around being up to no good and not sleeping much.

That all went south with the kids (obviously) and while I do enjoy the life of a father, I didn’t want to have a hard time breathing playing with them and that shitty sore back that was killing me all the time.

No fucking way that was going to be me. But kicking Pepsi turned out to be harder than expected. I never drank alcohol and don’t eat meat. But I felt the sugar down of quitting Pepsi. Go figure! Sugar was shit.

Still I liked to have a bubbly drink in the evening (go right ahead, call me cupcake, I don’t care) and so I found a simple, stupid way to ditch Pepsi.

You mix 2/3rds sparkling water with 1/3 fruit juice of your choice…that will cut 2/3rds of your sugar intake and your brain will think you’re having your evening drink. You quit the sugar without quitting the habit.

After a while I’m mostly having the sparkling water with lime. Tastes like Sprite without the sugar. Last time I had a Pepsi I almost puked it. That tells something.

That was my trick and this is now a story. ( I’m a writer so, don’t judge me.)

Take care,

Ian

 

894784 or The Number of the Future

Unaware that we already were living in Farenheit 451.

We had suddenly stepped into the world of 1984.

And so it appeared,

894784,

The number of the future.

2017 is a year of work in progress.

Alright,

As I have decided to focus on my daughters and my work in this shitty time, I am here to give a more professional, proper update on current and upcoming projects :

Confirmed for 2017 :

DOWN WITH THE UNDERDOGS, the second book in the D’Arcy Kennedy trilogy (following 2016’s GRAND TRUNK AND SHEARER is coming along very nicely and although we have not agreed, with Down and Out books, on a specific release date yet, I have my eyes on that Bouchercon Toronto date for a presentable product.

MONTREAL NOIR, the anthology, to be released by Brooklyn’s own Akashic Books has no official release date yet, but I’d be disappointed if it didn’t happen soon.

DANCING WITH A SWITCHBLADE will be my third collection of poetry. This one will have to go to November as priority has to go to DWTU.

Projects still in progress/negotiations :

My first full length movie script, POLY, is still under consideration by one of Montreal’s major film production company. Movie business is really slow when you have little to no contacts…I’d turn that fucker into a novel, but it’s hard to write a Franglais book about montreal’s bilingual street arts scene and make sense out of it…sometimes you have to tell a story visually, this is one of these times…we’ll see.

I have two, possibly 3 conferences to attend this year, it’s still early for those and will update as confirmations come in.

Cancelled :

I will no longer be involved in the KILO graphic novel for personal and obvious reasons.

My playlist this week : Post Pop Depression, Crouching Dragon’s soundtrack and Velvet Revolver for some reason…

That’s it for now.

Take care,

Ian.

 

Write It When It Hurts. (I think you could say I’m a little pissed.)

It had been too long and  it was too late. We had been dragging it for a few months too many and I was just pissed. It had nothing to do with ordinary anger anymore; regular anger, common anger, every day anger anymore. It wasn’t you “were late in the cold” anger or even “screaming aroung in the kitchen” anger.

This was silent anger and it was probably even worse.

It was anger that settled deep Inside your chest. It was simmering, draining anger. Anger that settled down in your gut, and there was no way to get to it. It just say right there where it hurt for real. It settled down in your mind and in your soul, rotting you from the inside only to leave a pool of fucking shit right where it mattered the most.

And you feel it, you know it. You can’t shake it off. That shit is incrusted there so hard you can’t even speak about it anymore. That’s the kind of anger I was talking about.

It was the kind of anger shrinks all over the world made their fortunes on. But I was too poor for a shrink.

This one’s gonna have to stick around for a while.

2016 : A Year of Almost, Meh and Maybe

So, 2016 is almost over… thank god!

2016 was a year of Almost, Meh and Maybe. As I’m sitting here with a bottle of lime-flavoured sparkling water and a bowl of milk chocolate kisses (both of which are the closest thing to hard drugs and alcohol I allow myself as a mid-thirties man in his mid-life crisis trying to hit the gym “hard” to get back into photo shoot shape…) I figured 2016 was a mix-bag at best.

So 2016, right? A lot of you may have had a similar year if I’m to trust my facebook feed. This could also be a case of echo-chamber-on-social-media, but given the Trump election…yeah! I think we all went there.

2016 was the year of my first book deal… I was soooo fucking excited. I almost “made it,” Fucking published author. Fuck yeah… but nobody’s buying books and I’m regularly advised to “just start your own you tube channel.” Jesus fucking christ!

In 2016 I took my first plane at 34. I never saw traveling as a necessity. To me it’s always been a waste of money. But I was invited to Bouchercon in NOLA and managed to find a ticket there and back for $400 after working many internet resellers against one another, traveling at highly unpopular hours…only to be in NOLA for a grand total of 30 hours or so…Bouchercon was pretty cool. I want to make it back there for sure…So it’s technically a yeah, but also a meh and I’m actually happy about it so… it’s a MEH with a story to tell now…that counts as a maybe. Let’s call it a maybe.

2016 was the year I made it into a big MBA school. I watched The Big Short and I loved that Mark Baum was angry and that Michael Burry was insane and that Ben Rickert felt downright suicidal. So I said “why the fuck not?!?” I got into John Molson School of Business…YEAH! fucking A! Got a loan for it too…so. yeah! 2016 was also the year I came to the hard realization that a big MBA school was not the place for “the rest of us.” It felt a bit like a con too…still on the fence about that. Anyways! I failed. I don’t care. I failed at a stats class that still taught you things as if Excel had not been invented 3 decades ago… I caught 3 guys plagiarizing on two different papers and I got called into meetings and wrote reports and I failed stats and you can’t fail a class. I left that shit disgruntled and confused and convinced I belonged in the writing world more than ever… That landed me only a few thousand more in the red… so that’s gonna work itself out over 15 years or so…MEH! for that. At least now I know why the whole economy’s fucked and I may or may not have a few ideas about some international/finance thriller shit down the road…still a maybe. (By the way : 2016 was the year I managed to reel in 30% on the stock market… BUT it was in a TMX simulation… I’m still too poor to become rich!)

2016 was also the year where we almost made money. That was all thanks to my wife working so hard for so many months on 3 major contracts back to back to back. So Kudos…Only problem is there’s never any work in winter here, so again, we’re waiting on the unemployment for half our income, so meh!

In 2016 we left the up-and coming and quickly gentrifying neighbourhood of Rosemont. where we lives somewhat happily for 8 years… 2016 was the year we managed to buy a home. But all my savings, my wife’s savings and the backing of my (working class) parents, and we landed back in our old (not so glamorous) neighbourhood… I like it. The gym is hood as fuck, people are working class, got the van broken into while I was away for 30 hours on my first ever trip at the age of 34…, so MEH! The place is bigger than our last though…so almost, motherfucker…almost.

So 2016’s been a years of “almost” but mostly, “maybe.” Maybe the groundwork’s been set up for 2017. Maybe Trump won’t be an asshole. Maybe the economy won’t crash. Maybe the water won’t rise just yet. Maybe Elon Musk’s gonna single-handedly fix global warming.

Maybe.

Iggy Pop’s not dead yet. So Maybe.

Just maybe.