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By A. Warren Johnson

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For most people, when life gets in the way of their plans the need to escape
is triggered, although rarely is this need fulfilled. In my case, payday has come
and gone, and I’ve gone with it. I didn’t bother telling anyone—including
employers, or family—what I was planning, I just wanted to get away. Like
most of my high school counter-parts, I’m taking off to Vancouver. The only
difference between them and I is that I at least know I will have to eventually
return; broke, pissed off and glad to be home.

April 14

The sky in Cache Creek is much wider than back home. I wonder if the
people here feel the same way, perhaps broader horizons have some link to a
broader mindscape. Who knows? While fuelling up I noticed the clouds, one in
particular resembled the eye of Ra, not exactly sure if I should consider this a
good omen, or if it is even important at all.

As the kilometres wear on, my thoughts turn to deconstructing the “war”
back home. This helps pass the endless drive, which at times have been
punctuated by points of terror. The facts are pretty straight forward. My

fits ova J

» growing dissatisfaction with my post-secondary education stems from three
things: 1) my day-to-day anxiety has peaked, but has yet to subside; 2)

fa

RR

Excerpt from Nothing in Between

Audrey’s suicide was less of a relief
than it was a revelation; 3) My home
town has become a war zone between
poets.

For some reason I think back to
2010. I had applied to a joint Fine
Arts degree between UNBC and
Emily Carr. I had been accepted by
Emily Carr, but had been rejected by
UNBC. At first, I figured that perhaps
my grades were too low for UNBC,
but soon realized that this was not
the case. My GPA was 2.86 that year.
Emily Carr requires a GPA of 2.5 and
a portfolio. UNBC requires a 2.0.

My understanding of my rejection is
based on three reasons, I’m white,
I’m male and I had taken a class with
Greg Kindle. I suppose these three
factors were enough for Dr. Harper to
consider me ‘other,’ his pe term for
enemy.

I came to these conclusions last
week after seeing the Fine Arts
graduate lists of the past two years.
All the student names were female:
Irene Cardinal, Jennifer Lazuli, Eileen
Parker, and Lenore Biggs.

It’s possible that I drew long bows
with these barely tangential threads,
but it seems the pieces are set out
before me, almost perfectly aligned.
Still, I can’t help but feel this is only
one dimension in a complex web. I
suppose I will have to wait to see the
significance of the grand design.

* ok ok

It’s 7:34 pm and I’m walking around
Grandville Street debating whether
or not I should send Michael an
email asking him to show me around
Kingsway. I have about $600 on debit,
but I’ll need $100 for gas and $50 for
food. The rest could be spent on booze
and cigarettes.

Down the street from Cherry Bombs,
I notice a guy with one leg punching a
gangster looking fuck in the face. I’m
impressed by how he balances himself
on his crutch as he makes contact. No
one else walking around me seems to
care.