Posts by Steve Anwyll

People Like Me Don’t Live A Long Time photo
December 26, 2019 | Nonfiction

People Like Me Don’t Live A Long Time

Steve Anwyll

Take a percocet at around 4:30pm.

Eat a large weed cookie, drink 1 750ml can of beer and then 3 pints between 6:30pm and 10:00pm.

Enthusiasm photo
November 28, 2019 | Fiction

Enthusiasm

Steve Anwyll

I think about her. A faint yellow light from the street falls on the floor.

Welfare, an excerpt  photo
May 23, 2019 | Fiction

Welfare, an excerpt 

Steve Anwyll

I only get twenty bucks that day. Trevor tells me to call him next week. He'll have some more work for me. But I never see him again. Or even hear his voice. I lose him number. Greaseback is never around. And then the phone gets cut off. I'm back to where I started.

Hinterland Transmissions: Tackling Homelessness photo
December 14, 2018 | Dispatches

Hinterland Transmissions: Tackling Homelessness

Steve Anwyll

The bum drags himself off the floor. Then comes on nice. Real buddy buddy shit.

Hinterland Transmissions: SUMAC, Dälek and Infernal Coil photo
October 10, 2018 | Dispatches

Hinterland Transmissions: SUMAC, Dälek and Infernal Coil

Steve Anwyll

And christ it's gonna be hot inside the tiny bar where SUMAC is playing tonight. I should've stayed home. Like I always do. An old man on his couch.

Hinterland Transmissions: All The Makings Of A Real Bad Day photo
March 9, 2018 | Dispatches

Hinterland Transmissions: All The Makings Of A Real Bad Day

Steve Anwyll

Then I hear it. Loud as the train coming into the station. Fuckinragabagagrrahfuuck. Ah ha. Of course. The unmistakable call of the down and out drunk.

Hinterland Transmissions: No Day At The Beach photo
January 19, 2018 | Dispatches

Hinterland Transmissions: No Day At The Beach

Steve Anwyll

Had a little accident last night Stevie, my boss yells. Tote fell over in the back of a truck. Someone's gotta clean up all that fish. I turn my head from him. Stare off out passed the end of the harbour. Where the horizon and Lake Eerie meet. Dissolve into one another. The breeze in my hair. Thinking why me?

The Eve Of X-mas 1994; or thereabouts photo
December 19, 2017 | Nonfiction

The Eve Of X-mas 1994; or thereabouts

Steve Anwyll

So on this X-mas eve. There I was. Sitting in the basement. On an old blue sectional couch. Alone

Hinterland Transmissions: A Day In Dust Bunny City photo
December 4, 2017 | Dispatches

Hinterland Transmissions: A Day In Dust Bunny City

Steve Anwyll

I don't like most people. And have been jealous of Bud for ages. With reason.

Hinterland Transmissions: The Piece Of Shit That Lives Inside Me photo
October 20, 2017 | Dispatches

Hinterland Transmissions: The Piece Of Shit That Lives Inside Me

Steve Anwyll

Now here I am. The same fucking predicament all over. The universe testing to see what I'll do.

Hinterland Transmissions: Coming to America photo
September 28, 2017 | Dispatches

Hinterland Transmissions: Coming to America

Steve Anwyll

Sitting in the Montreal bus terminal I make a decision. To eat the last of my weed candies. 

Hinterland Transmissions: Carnie Love photo
August 28, 2017 | Dispatches

Hinterland Transmissions: Carnie Love

Steve Anwyll

It must've been the late nineties. I was collecting welfare at the time. I couldn't have been more then 17. Summer vacation was coming to an end. The high school I attended was close to my

dimanche le 20 mai 2017 photo
July 5, 2017 | Dispatches

dimanche le 20 mai 2017

Steve Anwyll

1.

I cut through the small park. Come out the other side. As soon as I do I feel eyes on me. I look up from the sidewalk. He's standing down the block and on the other side of the busy cross

Hinterland Transmissions:  Folly At The Laundromat photo
June 2, 2017 | Dispatches

Hinterland Transmissions:  Folly At The Laundromat

Steve Anwyll

Of course the laundromat goes quiet. I glance around. We're all shocked. I catch the eyes of a little girl. Hair in pigtails. She looks scared.

HInterland Transmissions: AIDS on a Toothbrush photo
March 10, 2017 | Nonfiction

HInterland Transmissions: AIDS on a Toothbrush

Steve Anwyll

It's the middle of winter. My last submission was rejected with good cause. It went a little off the deep end.

Book Report: Based on a True Story: A Memoir by Norm Macdonald photo
January 30, 2017 | Dispatches

Book Report: Based on a True Story: A Memoir by Norm Macdonald

Steve Anwyll

I came at reading this book as I do most things. Like a fool. I expected what the cover hinted at. A memoir. Some casual retelling of Norm's life. I expected quaint takes of rural Canadian life

HInterland Transmissions: L'Ombre de la bête photo
January 13, 2017 | Nonfiction

HInterland Transmissions: L'Ombre de la bête

Steve Anwyll

...the products we couldn't get here. They'd come home with stories of innocent smiles given to bored border guards while they wore two pairs of jeans under three dresses. The trunk of their car filled with Cherry Coke and flavours of chips we couldn't comprehend. Cheap rum. Meat. Cigarettes. Electronics. 

Hinterland Transmissions: Visions of Sugar Plums photo
December 14, 2016 | Nonfiction

Hinterland Transmissions: Visions of Sugar Plums

Steve Anwyll

I look across the street. I can see the bookstore. It’s right there. I think about kicking my way through the wall, making a sprint across the street. All before the marching band closing in comes stomping into view. Because after that I'm sunk. The flood gates will be open. And the entirety of the county's Christmas spirit will be let loose like a foul bowel movement from the asshole of a very old drunk. I decide against it.

Hinterland Transmissions: 2015 Was A Bad Year photo
November 10, 2016 | Nonfiction

Hinterland Transmissions: 2015 Was A Bad Year

Steve Anwyll

The next day I send the above photo to a friend in Michigan. She asks if I'm fine. And what the doctor recommended. My response is typed laughter. I tell her I've been taking it easy. Staying medicated. But the chance of seeing a doctor is slim. The hospitals are over run. She's a little surprised. It's contrary to what she's been told.

Hinterland Transmissions: Canadian Thanksgiving photo
October 7, 2016 | Nonfiction

Hinterland Transmissions: Canadian Thanksgiving

Steve Anwyll

But if it's anything like years passed it'll boil down to something real simple. Start drinking as soon as the coffee is done. Bottles of beer and wine. We'll wrap ourselves up in blankets to stave off the cold. Too cheap to turn on the portable radiators we use to heat our place. Her parents will call. We'll feign sobriety. A hard thing to do at 10:00 a.m. with wine-stained lips.

Some Life, Hunh? photo
September 12, 2015 | Fiction

Some Life, Hunh?

Steve Anwyll

I look down Rue Acorn. Along the red brick factory I live in. And at first all I see are parked cars. Shadows. And the slow moving Sunday traffic farther up the block. Along  Rue Saint-Rémi.

You were right, I tell myself with confidence, there are no fucking fallen dogs out here. Just a sack of rice or side of beef. Plain and simple.

popsicle stick bomb photo
June 13, 2015 | Nonfiction

popsicle stick bomb

Steve Anwyll

In my head I can't believe what he just said. How the hell are we going to take a bunch of ordinary popsicle sticks and turn them into bombs? Bombs? Shit, they explode. There's fire involved! Is Kevin nuts? We'll kill people!

Sleep photo
February 12, 2015 | Nonfiction

Sleep

Steve Anwyll

With my back to the washer and dryer I started pissing down the wall.

I Was Nine photo
December 22, 2014 | Nonfiction

I Was Nine

Steve Anwyll

One time I was sitting near a row of bushes along the side of the house playing with some toys. Immersed in what I was doing. And a thick river of shit flowed from my asshole.

Hoarding photo
October 17, 2014 | Nonfiction

Hoarding

Steve Anwyll

A few weeks ago my wife told that I have some mild hoarding tendencies.

She said she was sick of it. The thousands of marijuana roaches I'll never smoke. All the goddamned books lying

Infestations photo
August 5, 2014 | Nonfiction

Infestations

Steve Anwyll

Cockroaches

This was a sign as far as I was concerned. The high water mark. The North American standard for being a shitbag.

A plague of the poor and dirty.

So when we started to see