Subtitles. Essentially the second line in your article, preceding the introduction—titles are even worse!
I guess it’s not supposed to make sense.
Greetings, reader.
Today’s piece is primarily for me, to begin building momentum after an extended absence from publishing. You’re invited to stick around anyway. I do think of you as I write.
Are you afraid of where this is going?
Have you slept well of late?
You see, without thinking, you can answer at least one of these questions with the ease of a Canadian goose landing on calm waters post-flying from, like, twenty seconds to sixteen hours straight.
They’ll reach speeds up to 80km/h!!
Or 50mph, for my American friends.
Sorry, I might overcompensate a little for ignoring more important sections of the pub to write you this one today. 🙃
I want to try something.
Let’s get on a roll, before tackling the most difficult question bedeviling me since logging into Substack this evening—
What’s your name? Lee.
What’s ONE fruit you’d be grateful to have today (there’ll be more variety, relax)? Kiwi. Then please bring on the rest of the tray.
Regarding hardcovers—book sleeves on or off? OFF.
How do you twist off the caps from most water bottles? Well, let me re-enact it for a moment… I mainly use my thumb and middle finger, usually.
Can you sew? Not today.
Can you speak Icelandic? Nah.
What comes after ten? Eleven, on a good day.
Okay—so, the plane is in the air, seatbelt signs are off, and there’s an open seat you’d prefer directly beside you that no one else is positioned to approach without your say, and you’ve checked that no one direly needs it anyway, and you saw someone else pull a similar move in view of all stewards who didn’t even blink; are you taking it, or not? You had me at “and you’ve checked no one direly needs it anyway.”
Now what do I want for a Substack cover photo?
…
…
Well, sh*t—maybe I messed it up by #8. And now I’m considering that not every reader will relate to flying economy. And what if a passenger knows they’re dying of a terrible illness the following day? They don’t NEED the preferred seating space, but I might find more satisfaction in knowing they got it before it’s too late.
On such a note, I relegate this piece to the ‘Stream of Consciousness’ section of the pub.
Revisiting the past, while “it’s” in mind
I just returned from a week-long trip visiting distant relatives.
They’re close in blood—first and second cousins, uncles, grandparents, my biological father and half-sister who’d only recently entered my life—only distant in physical proximity, relative to the space I myself may occupy on the full scale of the Earth, when seen beside Jupiter, but not the sun, or worse, the galaxy—
No, let’s reel it back in.
We won’t scale to the edges of the cosmos today, that’s how rebirth just… sneaks up on ya.
I don’t know, the imagination can perform at such levels to disqualify all memories lacking in tangible evidence—and the subconscious may capture the solutions to questions and problems which only appear to have sparked purely from within—
So, everyone actually had a great time.
We camped out at my grandparent’s cottage, where I enjoyed the bonfires, photographed the quite berry-textured feces of what HAD to be a bear cub, slept on an inflatable bed, and tried kayaking for the first time.
A friend of the family dropped her flashlight down in the old outhouse, and by the grace of Duracell, we laughed about it for days—
I caught a final ride on my granddad’s boat I’ve always known, just before he sells it in favour of a smaller rig, better suited for navigating the narrower bays in the area. There’s only space for one, and they’re expensive.
Ignore the towels drying. I didn’t take any other photos, so this is what we have.
Did you see the duck?
It’d just been standing on the boat, but I missed that shot.
What pinch of regret might I have felt, had I stayed in bed that morning, nine years after the last time I’d experienced it, never to be appreciated again—I don’t actually have my fishing license, so while the others cast lines into the lake, I hunted for deer flies, and effectively probably attracted more fish our way, which was pretty nice of me.
I hit five out of six of those buggers in a single swat.
Each, to be clear!!
And so we returned deer fly bite-free.
Not to mention…
Outside of camp, there were several homes to visit, a couple of which had one or more animals.
The kitty’s photo is actually from April, but I didn’t have my phone out taking pictures for very long this time.
But look how chill they all are.
No, look at them—again, if you have to.
Right?!
Now, if you want any personal stories drawn out—in words, not images… probably—from what I’ve mentioned today, then please comment below which parts specifically caught your interest, and why. 👉👉
Your reason is to guide my approach in retelling the tale.
Also, really do be specific.
The time for vagueties will come, but don’t let it be now. You’ll be helping me out a bunch.
And make sure to SUBSCRIBE, to know when it’s out. 👇👇
*All non-fiction requested in this manner will appear in the section titled ‘True Accounts’.
In other news, I took up rubbing alcohol as my new favourite alternative to aluminum and chemical-laden deodorants, and my mother bought me a couple of new tees, so I’d “look less homeless” for everyone.
My aunt’s been boozing her armpits for years, and since I seldom drink, I thought why not have a jazz—
It really works, in terms of odour cleansing, NOT getting drunk.
And my mother was right about my look, let’s just get that out of the way.
I own about eight shirts, all black, and half of them are either frayed and/or holey. This isn’t an issue when you’re at home alone, but realize your appearance does affect how people both treat and feel about you.
You’ll experience it with strangers, at home, and with friends, whether meeting potential employers, or in stores when asking for help—
In this case, being “respectable” was all the rage.
Hence—there’s lacking complete evidence in my own camera roll, but—I even wore a white shirt with vibrant floral-themed swimming shorts!!
You can see the white shirt at the end of this article, along with a callback to another key passage in this article.
Don’t worry, it’s almost done!
Oh, I do hope you’ve made it this far, because that means you haven’t overthought anything in a short while, right?
Yes, how magical—
Unless I assumed wrong.
Do people overthink while reading as well? I’ll have to pay close attention the next time I sit—or stand— in your place.
A Well-Fitting Conclusion
No, I won’t bore you with every little detail of where I’ve been, who was there, or what we did and talked about.
Suffice it to say that most of these folks hadn’t seen me in a while…
Actually, zooming into the last three years, none of them had seen me up until February, 2025.
I was traversing some sh*t.
Which reminds me—
I didn’t know what it was. Feces for sure.
My fourteen year old cousin first pointed out it might be a bear, then an adult or two confirmed it’s probably what it is.
You see, the pile was small, so I never ruled out other possibilities, such as deer suffering from indigestion.
That was my only other idea, for how that looks.
In any case, maybe this piece didn’t achieve much, but it’s a start.
This is to hoping you had fun reading me today, know it’s one of my top priorities, whenever 11 does follow 10, and even then—thank you for adding meaning to my life.
You might consider sharing this with anyone else strange enough to enjoy it, if you please.
Do I want to fix my inconsistent usage of em dashes and ellipses? Not today. This profile is doomed if I overthink this sh*t too often.
Your thoughts are valuable, in case you’d like to share them.
That said, I’ll be around!!
You’re awesome, take care.
Sincerely,
G
Loved it. Many giggles. 10/10💙🤗