Lead change…
In the sea,
where they’re happiest,
and most comfortable,
selkies take the form of seal cows and live among those marine animals…
But their dual nature compels them to leave the water occasionally…
Stripping off and hiding her magic sealskin,
a selkie takes the form of a lovely young woman,
to bask in the sun and salt spray,
brush her long hair and enjoy her human voice while singing sweetly to herself…
This is the time when she is most vulnerable…
Any man finding her cached sealskin literally holds her life in his hands—
without it,
she cannot transform;
if it’s destroyed,
she dies…
In this way,
the wild and beautiful selkie is extorted into a landlocked marriage…
— in Field Guide to Monsters by Darren Zenko
One of the things,
my children,
take umbrage with,
is when I can,
no longer,
contain myself,
and say,
things like,
Scott Oake,
is SUCH,
a gonad…
They have,
no tolerance,
for certain,
expletives,
and immediately,
call me out,
on my immaturity…
Last night was,
no exception,
as I drank,
my one bottle,
of apricot wheat ale,
and cheered on,
the chuckwagon,
at the United Center,
like a rodeo,
trick rider…
Starshine called me,
Friday night,
and the first thing,
she asked me,
was if,
I’d seen,
the games,
of St. Paul,
and St. Louis…
I had to say,
that I hadn’t,
seeing as,
my cable,
to the sports network,
is working on,
completely,
And the second thing,
she said,
is I’m starting to think,
that you’re right…
I wondered,
about what???
She said,
About that something,
that’s missing,
with the Canucks,
BEING Raffi Torres…
Before I flex,
muscle,
and text message,
Mike Gillis,
to hear,
what’s it gonna take,
to BRING RAFFI BACK,
I need a sure sign,
that Raffi really wants,
TO BE here,
as trailering,
a horse,
to where he doesn’t want,
to go,
is counter-productive,
in the long run…
Since training camp,
I’ve had a duet,
of dreams,
in which,
Jannik Hansen,
and I,
are saying,
GRACE…
And the night before,
the win,
against Washington,
I had a dream,
where,
I was driving,
up high way #1,
and when I looked,
in the rear view,
Alain Vigneault was relaxed,
and having a picnic,
in the back seat,
of my station wagon,
with a boyish grin,
on his face…
As usual,
I have no idea,
what any of this means,
except for,
when I woke up,
everything,
FELT,
Little Gem has drawn up,
her very own,
Canucks calendar,
for the month,
of Mo’vember,
and she takes,
the time,
she needs,
to record,
each score,
after she’s finished,
her HOME WORK…
On Sunday morning,
I was an hour early,
for my shift,
in Abbotsford,
due to the fact,
I’d forgotten,
about the end,
of Daylight Savings,
and setting,
the clocks back,
the night before…
The thin sheet,
of broken ice,
floating,
in the rain barrels,
that morning,
signaled,
the start,
of a new cycle,
and the herd,
of horses,
stood,
licking,
and chewing,
inside their manger,
with a soft-eye,
on that fire,
stoking inside,
In the maze of her imagination...
Canuck'd 