Maybe You’ve Never Been to Green Drinks…Here’s What to Expect!

Straight up, it’s hard to meet people. And in Edmonton’s cold north, the party is often hiding behind closed doors (of course, we’re getting better at it thanks to Edmonton’s WinterCity Strategy!). That leaves a lot of us falling into a Netflix trap, keeping to our own circles and our old habits, and sometimes, forgetting that to live in a city means being a part of the thing, gosh darn it!

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Artist Patrick Moskwa Unveils YoungBlood at WCFW!

“I make a mess…”

Those are some of the first words that Patrick Moskwa uses to describe his body of work (pun intended) but like him, audiences know “…it’s what comes out of the mess that matters most.”

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Drums of Change: A Review of Fauzia Rafique’s The Adventures of SahebaN

Being a Canadian woman writer of European descent, I came into Fauzia Rafique’s The Adventures of SahebaN without background knowledge of the role (Mirza) Sahiba plays in much of traditional Punjabi culture. The beauty of Rafique’s text however, is how my lack does not impact my understanding of how the narrative turns a cultural model for perfection (Sahiba) on her head to showcase the flaws of that very perfection, and (in particular) to show that a woman can be honourable, and pure, and loyal, without bowing to the restrictive ideas and expectations that society and religion place upon her.

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Quasar Trash

We’d gotten a vehicle to Mars for Christ’s sake, and this is what they choose to celebrate? Curiosity, out there all on his—its—own, humming to the frequency of “Happy Birthday”? Mics up to max, an ear-numbing static filling our large control room, some of the more senior staff sing loudly over the noise while eating crumbly cupcakes over their consoles. Normally I might put a stop to it, but they’d been working so hard. 

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Narcotic

I’m one of the lucky ones. I mean, I never got hooked.

Could’ve happened of course, that’s always a danger when you’re a Trader. Got a whole supply at my fingertips, could tap in anytime I want–be like those kingpins over there, rattling their yellow teeth my way, hopped up on the stuff, eyes crazy. But that’s not my style. A Trader’s gotta be fair, has to be clean. If he ain’t he’ll just be pushing for his own benefit. That’s not what it’s about, you know? It’s about helping people.

I’ve been doing this a long time, know all the tricks. That’s why I can call this side of town my own; everyone comes to me. They know I’ll be good to them, that I won’t cheat. I’m running a good thing, here. Got drop points all over the place, a few Runners and a couple of Recruiters. Good ones too. But they all know I’ve only got one rule: don’t get hooked and I’ll keep paying. Get hooked, and I’ll make sure you pay double-double. 

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Suck It, Miss Bea.

There’s a lady already on about her damn therapeutic hairless cats when I get in. Trying to catch my breath, I make it almost to the back row, but of course all 10 or 12 of them are drawn to the smell of what snuck in with me—the lovely, sultry, slightly burned aroma of a running vacuum cleaner needing a good empty.

“…Bea?” someone whispers from my new audience.

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