I used to have guts.

I was chosen by various Canadian writers along with a few other high school students to read something specially prepared and previewed by our teachers. Since, over the summer, my teacher tried to fuck me, I decided against any preparation and in the fifteen minutes before I was to stand in front of the cameras on the top floor of the hotel at Bloor and Avenue Road I wrote this:

(Small excerpt from four page piece)

The grassy earth lifts to finger me and these long fingers whsper my name and signal the finale. In time to the rhythm Bristleback and I spread ourselves over the whole scene, enveloping it in a raw orange-red bristeled sphere....we are not sticky. We are as slippery as a lightbulb and then we do light up....