There is a great app for electronic book and audiobook lovers that I haven’t written about yet. A couple times every month I find myself bringing it up in conversation and the people I’m talking with haven’t heard about it. So, here you go my small, but loyal, readership.

If you love to borrow books and want to support your library but don’t have the time to get there, then there is an incredible app just for you –> OVERDRIVE! Even if, like me and my family, you get to the library every week (at the least) this is still a great resource if you like or appreciate e-books. It’s also FANTASTIC if you have kids who listen to audiobooks. You can borrow them on the app from your library, download them to your computer, smart phone or tablet and listen to them anywhere! Our boys wake up in the morning, head down to the computer, turn it on and launch the app and just settle in and listen to audio stories while they draw or play with Lego’s. We’ve also used it on long drives: you can (but don’t have to) burn them to CD’s, and if you don’t do that just bring some headphones and they have tons of listening time available to them.

So, there you go my friends. Overdrive! A great electronic library app for books and audiobooks that I can’t recommend highly enough!
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Ramsey Whitefish

State of no Euphoria

darkness is all I see,
whenever one has no friend, want or need,
I hate to watch the human
basket go down,
into the so-called healing from
the underground.
brittle bruises and shaking
anglo scars,
this stupid fucking world
should be barred!
I lose my friends left
middle and right
does GAWD truly think and
feel that it’s truly polite?
I’m estranged whenever I lose
a close friend,
state of no euphoria, this
is not the end.
keep everyone health, free
and alive!!!

(c) Ramsey Whitefish 2014
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The afternoon sun secretly opened the world and stood, clear eyed and fresh, out in the open for all to see. She took her hair and wrapped it around herself, covering her form from head to toe in the finest of spectral silk. And as she stood there, relishing her own comfort, the world, which was open and not really enjoying being so exposed, spoke.

“Oh sun, oh spectral silky one, would you mind. We find ourselves to be quite cold, open and exposed as we are. Would you leap back up and close us up, our warmth is escaping.”

The sun, still in her own thrall, ignored the request of the world. The world was becoming quite cool. Her inner heart, her heat, was dissipating, being scattered unnecessarily out into the silent night.

“Oh sun, oh bright luminous one, we implore you. Our heart, our heat, is being used up rather quickly. Please, close us up so that we might keep our heart warm, so that we might keep our charges safe.”

The sun became annoyed at the world. She jumped up, whipped her hair around and closed the world up with such force that what was once land became sea, and what was once sea and water became hard unmovable land. And in her throne above the world, she glared down, all her heat becoming focused on this world at this time.

As the day waned, so too the sun’s temper waned. She began to catch glimpses of her spectral hair and was once again enamored of herself. She began to make herself up so that when the moon came out to play she would look resplendent. Touches of Cat’s Eye red, and Spriograph purple, with a hint or two of Carina orange.

2015 Books list

2015 Books

What a great year for reading! I read over 60 books last year, some great ones (as you’ll read later) and some good ones. I was fortunate to not have read any real duds last year! Let’s hope it stays like that for this year as well.


The best and most important book I read last year was “Chasing The Scream: The First and Last Days of the War on Drugs” by Johann Hari. Like the subtitle says, it’s about the war on drugs and it is incredibly informational and relatable. Hari manages to write a book chock full of information that reads more like a conversation than anything else. It was this rhetorical style combined with the information he presented that wonderfully overwhelmed me. There were times I thought that he was just going to come out with the end to his thesis right then and there, but no, more questions to ponder and more stories to tell. If your life is impacted in any way by drugs, then you should read this book; oh, and just so you know, YOUR LIFE IS IMPACTED BY DRUGS even if you don’t do them and your family doesn’t do them. You see, my life is impacted by drugs, the environment I work in is devastatingly impacted by drugs, and if you’re reading this, you most likely know me and so, at the very least by knowing me your life is impacted by drugs. READ THIS BOOK!

Station Eleven

I would also like to take a paragraph to mention a fantastic surprise of a novel: “Station Eleven” by Emily St. John Mandel. It’s a sci-fi, post-apocalyptic dystopian novel that is set partially in and around Toronto, and the great lakes. The main character in the story is an actress with a Traveling Symphony in an altered world. I’ve never read a post-apocalyptic novel where the main character was an entertainer and that element of their life was important and critical to their life in the world of the novel. As an artist of multiple disciplines, this delighted me to no end. I feel that this is something sorely missing in serious depictions of dystopian futures. Sure, some may not include it on purpose, but mostly I think a lot of authors don’t include it because they don’t think it’s important, and yet, without artists, where would they themselves be? It was something that delighted me in the intensely amazing (although very disturbing) 2013 masterpiece “Snowpiercer“. In that movie there is, in the tail section of the train, an artist and his role is vital to the health of that section of the train. It’s never explicitly stated “he’s important because he’s an artist and what he does is important”; it’s subtle and perfect instead. So, that having been said, give “Station Eleven” a try if you like science fiction or dystopian futures or books where Toronto is a major setting.

The Lost Time series

I’m really looking forward in 2016 to reading the “Lost Time” series by Damien Boyes. It’s a series of 5 novellas (3 of which have been released as of the time of this writing) taking place in Toronto in 2058/59. Having read the first one (and really enjoying book 2 right now) I can honestly say that I can’t wait for the rest of the series! The first book deliciously reminded me of Gibson’s “Neuromancer”. Like Gibson, Boyes trusts his readers to pick things up as they go along and doesn’t feel like he has to explain everything. Unlike Gibson though Boyes doesn’t alienate his reader either, setting clues and examples along the route without pandering or condescending or dragging out unnecessary exposition. If you are a science fiction fan after the likes of Gibson or Pillip K. Dick then I think Boyes’ “Lost Time” series could be for you!

Well, that’s all for me for this post. Stay tuned for my favorite movies from last year. And, if you didn’t at the beginning, you can check out the full list of books I read by clicking on this ridiculously long half of this sentence.

Dundas Square at Night

The corner

© 2016 Lyf Stolte

You wouldn’t know it to look at it. That’s the whole point. I mean, if every person who looked at it saw what it really was it would lose it’s power. If it lost that the whole corner would be in jeopardy. You see, it was linked to several others who, likewise, couldn’t properly be seen. The funniest part is, they wanted so desperately to be seen. How hard it is to be at the epicenter of a city; in the heart of a pounding, driving, racing, humping city, and not be truly seen.

The sun rose slowly, the edges of it’s vision just barely touching the impotent fountains. The first one there greeted the sun, but no one saw the greeting. No one was alive yet; not that those who ever bustled and hustled through this square were ever really alive; there was the odd one, the odd delightful soul who carried the tiniest of shimmers through the otherwise dull hump of the crosswalks.

“The cross sign is on for all directions. The cross sign is on for all directions.”

But no one crosses yet. No one is there yet.

The second one travels carefully, being sure not to step on any cracks so as not to break any backs. It’s true you know. You don’t know whose back you’ve broken, but the second one believes it and if you believe something hard enough, well, you just have to be careful what you believe. The second one greets the morning; they are more concerned though with the proper arrangement of their space. It is theirs. They’ve had to fight many times to keep this space. Of course, they aren’t aware of the help they’ve had; they aren’t aware of the importance of their occupancy.

“The cross sign is on for all directions. The cross sign is on for all directions.”

I wish I could say something remarkable about the third. I wish that there was something remarkable about them. Well, maybe that is the remarkable thing: there is nothing, not one thing, remarkable about them. They come, they look, they nod, they sit. In a city, in a culture, that thrives on everyone looking differently the same, the third doesn’t stand out like a sore thumb. It would be disastrous if they did.

“The cross sign is on for all directions. The cross sign is on for all directions.”

A fish out of water wouldn’t curse as much as the fourth one does. An angel caught in hell wouldn’t weep as piteously as the fourth. And, most importantly, a person in this city wouldn’t see the fourth if it would stop all the wars in the world; for all the wars in the world are still better than the alternative.

“The cross sign is on for all directions. The cross sign is on for all directions.”

They begin to cross. They begin their daily struts, saunters, humps, walks, and strides. Never looking, never seeing. It wants to be seen. It really does. Let us just be thankful that we can’t see it. The world would be in the most serious jeopardy if it was truly seen.

blowing wind

The Wind has an old/new experience…

A windy night has begun to lick at the alleyways. It’s tasting and considering the delicacies. As it whorls around the city, lapping up alley after alley, the flavors tickle it and send it reeling faster and faster. But wait, there’s something different here. The wind hasn’t tasted this scent before. Oh, wait, it has, but this one is just a bit different. It tickles the winds memory, sending it far back in time; this corner, this red brick building. Oh, the building of this place was special in the winds long memory.

But this is new. New-ish. Old and new. Two things at the same time; holy and not holy, delicious and repulsive. The wind dances around this building, sailing through the cracks and crannies, trying to place what is new. In the alley beside it. That’s what’s new. It wasn’t there the last time this wind traveled through here.

The wind takes shelter in the alley, hunkering down, making tiny eddies in the air, many little versions of itself, gorging itself on this new delicacy. There is a moaning and a groaning that the wind does not make. This sound has reached out from under something, and is trying to tame the eddies, trying to tame the wind.

A little laugh begins somewhere in the one of the mini-winds, and soon it travels to the others, multiplying. The moaning that is not of the wind opens a new alley for the wind to travel through. The wind laughs as it rushes to the opening. But this opening is not an opening. The wind is not finding its way through; where is the other side of this alley?

Oh shit. Not again. This is why the wind hasn’t been around this building in so many years. And it won’t be here again for many more.

HepC Treatment update…


That’s right. Eighty-four days/pills later and I have finished my third round of treatment for Hepatitis C. It’s quite amazing really. During the whole run I didn’t experience even a fraction of the side effects I did the last 2 times. In fact, I was able to live my life completely normally (well, as normal as my life will ever get *snicker*). I am so thankful to modern science for this miraculous pill.

During the process I endeavored on an artistic journey of photographing myself every morning taking the pill. At first this was simply about having fun, but it quickly turned into a bit more of an art project; it also had the added bonus of helping my memory: if I couldn’t remember if I had taken the pill, I could just look at my phone and double check. This helped ease my anxiety about missing a dose (which I was told was the main reason that it might not work, that’s how sensitive this treatment is). The whole 84 pictures are in the slideshow below. You can also check out the special little video I did for the final pill as well, it’s embedded below the pictures.

I would like to thank my family and friends for their prayers, good thoughts, and encouraging emails, notes and smiles along the way. Also thank you to my instagram followers who “liked” my morning photos almost every day 🙂

No Vacancy

© 2015 Lyf Stolte


If I wanted to, he’d be dead. No questions. Just like that. Can’t mess with me and not receive some kind of punishment.


Don’t think of it as punishment. That’s your first problem.


But that’s what it will be.


No no no no…you got this all wrong. You’re too negative.


But – How can I not be negative? After what he did? And in public no less.

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Greg “Iggy” Spoon


March 18th, 1968 – March 17th, 2015

Iggy, aka Greg Spoon, was amazing.

I wanted to write this sooner, but it didn’t feel right. I can’t explain why. Maybe it was because I wasn’t ready. Maybe it was because I was afraid I wouldn’t do him justice. I think though it’s because I am finally allowing myself time to sit down and actually think about him.

Yesterday was the day we officially remembered him. The room was clean and prepared with care. A circle was created, symbolizing our connectedness. Simon added chair upon chair to the circle that we were going to gather in.
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February and March writing update..

250 words a day
The writing continues…

It hasn’t been an easy month, so I’m posting the badge on this post more as a goal I reached for than as something accomplished. The post that she wrote is more about writing daily than it is about word counts altogether. That having been said, I just want to share with you all my stats for February because I think they’re neat (considering I’ve never really written ANYTHING before this).

And in case you’re wondering why March is in the title without it’s own stats, well, that’s because March has been a difficult month and so I’ve given myself a bit of an intentional break on the writing. What have a I done instead of write? Well, I’ve intentionally enjoyed stuff that I haven’t watched in ages, and played videogames that I haven’t played in eons, and I’ve just relaxed more. I will pick up the writing again in April as I feel that it was a good habit that I did, and there are still several projects that I am working on and want to see them come to fruition, even if that is simply a first draft with nothing else after that. I need to finish the stuff I start…well, some of it anyway…


Total Words Written: 11,018
Average Words Per Day: 393
Total Writing Days: 17
Most Words Written On A Day: 1110