Promiscuous wordsmith, freelancer, noise lover, shit-disturber, fireplug, lady hobbit, cheese pervert.
I'm the author of DOOM: Love Poems for Supervillains (Insomniac Press, 2012) and Thumbscrews (Snare Books, 2007).
I’m a full time freelancer, working as a music critic, journalist and literary reviews editor based in Toronto, Ontario. I spend my days alternately damaging my liver and my hearing enjoying aggressive music, or sitting hunched in front of a computer smithing words while covered in a thin layer of cheeto dust. It is a romantic existence that doesn’t require me to put on pants very often.
I regularly contribute to Globe & Mail, National Post, Quill & Quire, Toronto Standard, HuffPost Music Canada, Canada Arts Connect, This Magazine, Hellbound, About Heavy Metal, Angry Metal Guy, Gameranx, Game Dynamo, Torontoist and Exclaim!. Canada Arts Connect Magazine hosts my column about feminism and aggressive music, ”Girls Don’t Like Metal.” I'm known for my postcard-length poetic album reviews, which have appeared in Toronto Standard and Hellbound. I’m also the Reviews Editor of This Magazine, the Syndicated Review Editor for CWILA (an organization dedicated to equitable critical culture in Canada) and a member of the board for Meatlocker Editions
I am in the early stages of writing a novel dedicated to the plight of hench-people, the downtrodden and often expendable employees of fictional villains. I also write non-fiction essays, fan fiction that no one will ever see, spec-fic short stories and am constantly poking away at a magic-realist autobiography.
I write about S&M, gastroporn, comic books, video games, combat sports, arts & culture, CanLit, local politics, feminism and difficult music. I am also the Wordsmith and Promotions Wizard behind Golden Spruce Entertainment. I live in a beach cave with three psycho jungle cats, a Belgian Malinois puppy, and my partner, musician and editor Christopher Gramlich.
Instead of waiting in her tower, Rapunzel slices off her long, golden hair with a carving knife, and then uses it to climb down to freedom.
Just as she’s about to take the poison apple, Snow White sees the familiar wicked glow in the old lady’s eyes, and slashes the evil queen’s throat with a pair of sewing scissors.
Cinderella refuses everything but the glass slippers from her fairy godmother, crushes her stepmother’s windpipe under her heel, and the Prince falls madly in love with the mysterious girl who dons rags and blood-stained slippers.
Persephone goes adventuring with weapons hidden under her dress.
Persephone climbs into the gaping chasm.
Or, Persephone uses her hands to carve a hole down to hell.
In none of these versions is Persephone’s body violated unless she asks Hades to hold her down with his horse-whips.
Not once does she hold out on eating the pomegranate, instead biting into it eagerly and relishing the juice running down her chin, staining it red.
In some of the stories, Hades never appears and Persephone rules the underworld with a crown of her own making.
In all of them, it is widely known that the name Persephone means Bringer of Destruction.
Red Riding Hood marches from her grandmother’s house with a bloody wolf pelt.
Medusa rights the wrongs that have been done to her.
Eurydice breaks every muscle in her arms climbing out of the land of the dead.
Girls are allowed to think dark thoughts, and be dark things.
Instead of the dragon, it’s the princess with claws and fiery breath
who smashes her way from the confines of her castle
and swallows men whole.
'Reinventing Rescuing,' theappleppielifestyle. (via theappleppielifestyle)
That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.