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early scene in my unfinished superhero project

a small fragment, a scene from my superhero novel, that might be a web series or a graphic novel, maybe all three.... anyway, i have bits and pieces here and there. i forgot about this scene, which i wrote a couple of years ago. the main POV character is a retired Super powered (depowered) vigilante named Leonard Singapore, aka The Blinking Fist.
People in Leonard's life are being killed by someone who seems to be Leonard, but it wasn't him. In the whacky world of super people, this may not be a paradox. The Android Cops who are investigating have maybe irresponsibly, brought The former blinking Fist to a crime scene, a dead old friend awaits.
Return Of the Blinking Fist: Ride Along...
It’s been ages since I was at a crime scene, like riding a bike, dammit. I almost reached into my utility belt for rubber gloves, when Android Cop #1 handed me a pair from some magic pocket in those crazy overcoats the Android Cops all wear. I have to ask him to snag me one. I gloved up, feeling …

Excerpts from my poetry book: "The Wickedness Of Flowers"

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Here are a few poems from my third book of poetry, ("The Wickedness Of Flowers" follow the link to purchase) and the first one that I self published (all self pub'd) as Josie Boyce rather than under my old name.

The first one is a poem that took me many years to get to 'finished', though like Walt Whitman, one of the very few 'heroes' I have, I consider all my work to be mutable, and open to later revision. It's a dreamy worded piece that speaks in those dreamy tones about my youth growing up in rural New Brunswick, specifically, Sunbury County. Here is a video, followed by the text for those who don't like videopoems (pretty much everyone based on my hits.)



In The Blue South Of Sunbury County
In the blue south of Sunbury County a child with cherries     smiles  spinning knives                   teeth paint screams ghosted trains within                  pink fingers rusted nails in the deep green               mother's morning dreams . flesh of aquamari…

Some videos That i made, no poetry, okay one has poetry, but it's Shakespeare so it's okay really.

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So it's not all poetry with me. Here are some examples of some of my better (by that I mean ones I am most happy with) videos. I make a lot of videos using stock footage from internetarchive.org. But some are made from stuff i shot myself, often of myself, as I enjoy doing it all myself very much. I think my strengths are the cutting, editing and synching of sound and video.

From decades of doing a/b rolls and synching sound and video, i have a keen eye for where to drop tracks. For me making these videos is like sculpting, like crafting a poem. you cut and tweak until it becomes what it is.

Here are a few of my faves from my channel on youtube


This one (above) was back in the Joe Daze, and is my okayish reading of "to Be Or Not To be, mashed with some video of the Parade of Lost Souls from a few years ago.


This one above is more recent, from the summer, me messing around with lensflare and my iphone



This is one of my best recent efforts imho. I watch this over and over.  it…

East Van Places represented in poetry

So on to my second self published book ("A Cure for Mirrors") from my pre transition era. This book also had a nice launch, as did Like Bukowski in Drag, which i launched once at the Bar called Bukowski's, but is now The Charlatan. Bukowski's was a great for a bar venue in the late nineties, early aughties for poetry, open mics. Local legend CR Avery did some of his very first shows there, most events were run but the Late T. Paul Ste. Marie, who was the best emcee I ever worked with. Someone sorely missed in the scene. RIP Paul.

I have very fond memories of those open mics, and seeing so many friends and great poets every week.

Anyway, my second book, which launched at the more recently disappeared cafe "the Prophouse"... a great evening with local musicians Rodney Decroo, and Wyckham Porteous, opening up for me, they opened for ME. So humbled by that to this day.

A Cure For Mirrors also is inhabited by places of the past, nostalgia. Though written when I…

You can't always get what you want

I used to be a pretty prolific poet back in the day. I seem to have let the poetic muse slip away a bit in favour of prose, It's just how the cards have fallen.

What I would like to be able to do is update my myriad of blog pages that a few years ago I had intended to update far more regularly than i currently do. A lot of my projects are big novels though that i'm not ready to share, as far as that goes, and I have been slack with writing other things.

Recently though I have decided once again that i want to try and figure out how to make my sidelines become more robust and maybe even be able to pay the odd bill with them.

This year I have made almost 200 dollars from my paintings and photographs. Not very much right? but I never painted before this year, or tried to sell a photo. But it is encouragement. I was a bit down putting out my last poetry book - "The Wickedness of Flowers" , but first as Josie, and not old sad Joe. And for a myriad of reasons my chutzpah …

RPG/FIC: I have been Living in an Airship (part 3)

RPG/FIC: I have been Living in an Airship (part 3): A Passage Through India (and Transformations of the Body & Soul) The Continued Adventures of ‘Rosie Ramses” In India After the...

quick writing exercise. (The Old Guard Eats Breakfast On Mars.)

I sat down earlier today, with the idea to write a little something that wasn't my novel. It's a fragment of some other silly story roaming around my brain. It was fun to write, and I have no plans yet for it. But i thought I'd share it, just because.

The Old Guard Eats Breakfast On Mars.

“The Near Future,” is here on Mars, sitting in a diner: his electric teeth making short work of some better than average Martian Bacon.  He dips his one flesh and blood finger into the eggs, piercing the yolk, watching it burst open a bright green martian yolk, as green as your favourite Earth egg is yellow, and as delicious, as he feels his pulse with his tongue whilst licking the green goo from his last human finger, he looks up and across to his dining companion, and former sidekick: the former “Sparky Jones Jr.” is now more often than not called Morty, by everyone he still talks to, which really is very few given his self imposed exile here on Mars, away from all the action of the Ear…