Category Archives: Short Story

Snap # 6 nothing by nobody

#ideaswithink #canadianteenauthor #nothingbynobody

You don’t need a woman/gay/race card to buy a suffer-ring. You just need a human card.


Don’t pierce your soul with a suffer-ring.


You watch the movie of life in the bed of death.


Thinking caps come with free trail-blazers


When you graduate from life you need to wear a thinking cap and a trail-blazer


Don’t destroy the trail-blazer park to built the nuclear-family plant


The psycho-path doesn’t exist anymore so take the road of life.


You eat war raw. It’s either a money tree or a religion-pigeon.


Life is a heart-dying salon. Death is a heart-dieing salon


A heart is a house. The heart is a home.


Snap #5 #nothing by nobody

suicide notes and life statements

Youth is a truth but to die is a lie.

I wanted to kill myself…

1-by doing nothing but I did everything.

2-by falling off the staircase to heaven but I took the escalator up.  

3-by committing social suicide but I only fell down the social ladder.  

4-by failing the test of life but then I retook it and passed.

5-by falling out of love but gravity doesn’t exist in my heart.

6-by being trampled on by the elephant in the room but they were all in the media circus.

7-by sleeping in the bed of death but I couldn’t fall asleep.

8-by falling into the melting pot but no immigr-ants are allowed.  

9-by becoming prey in the human food chain but at least I wasn’t a predator.

10-by jumping from heaven but I landed in hell.

11-by becoming a chameleon but I lived in a black and white world.

12-by jumping off the friendship-bridge but I landed on a relation-ship.

13-by choking on my voice but I had no voice.

Snap #4 nothing by nobody

Life is a wife and peace is her niece.

The Us-bus goes between a friend-ship and a relation-ship.

Immigrants to new hearts need to learn the language of love.

I wear genes in my blood cell.

Friendships can’t enter the hate-state.

You can’t drink fear when driving your life.

The internet is fast food for the mind.

Egos are cannibals and souls are vegans.

When finding love don’t park your bye-ke next to the fire hi-drant   

Love triangle exists between heart, mind, soul.

Amazon Giveaway

Win a copy of my book on Amazon #AmazonGiveaway of #timecapsule by #ideaswithink #canadianteenauthor #amazongiveaways #share #Review #comments

Snap #3 #nothing by nobody

Souls mate then abort hate.

There’s an elevator to heaven from the top of the glass ceiling.

If you’re under the ceiling you have to take the stairs.  

You play life on a prive-ledge with a preju-dice.

God and Death are film critics judging the movies of our lives.

They sleep through most of them.

Tone-deaf people aren’t color-blind.

Gender is a blender in the race-case.

Bread-winners make a dough using the bill-mill.

Snap #2 nothing by nobody

The kids of your fears are your tears.

Hate is straight. Fear is queer.

The fate of hate is to wait not mate.

To get to the hate-state take the pain-train.

You get drunk on fear-beer and sober on honest-tea

Snap 1 #NothingByNobody

Second book “nothing” by nobody is in the works.

I will share the snaps regularly. The book will be released at the end of summer 2017. #nothingbynobody

Lust sews kisses. Love sows kisses.
Lust reigns hearts. Love rains hearts.
Lust needs love. Love kneads love.

The First Book is Out

Kindle Edition of TIME CAPSULE available now on Amazon for USD 2.99. Please, download, read, share and review. Your support is much appreciated.

Ideas with Ink

I have compiled my first book TIME CAPSULE and it is published on Amazon. The three years of my teenage life, my thoughts, aspirations, troubles, worries and hopes went into this work. I have grown as a human and a writer. Please, share and comment. I value your feedback and support.

View original post

The First Book is Out

I have compiled my first book TIME CAPSULE and it is published on Amazon. The three years of my teenage life, my thoughts, aspirations, troubles, worries and hopes went into this work. I have grown as a human and a writer. Please, share and comment. I value your feedback and support.

Henri’s Dream


If Steinbeck wrote Chapter 33 in “Cannery Row”


Henri drank a gallon of wine, stretched out on his mattress and skimmed a passage of Rimbaud “But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.” with an indecently decent accent. The rain: undressed and barefoot, slaughtered poppies. Girls came and went like the waves infiltrating the masculine, decrepit shoreline. Henri dozed off into unbridled consciousness and entered into a bizarre ritual of Alice.

He dreamed he was the captain and she: the figurehead. Cannery Row was devilish, and deadbeat, and dark. The ocean was depleted of vastness and loneliness. Alice flowered in sad songs. Solitude pecked at Henri and the oddest personnages sprung into his reconnaissance: his possessive mother, his glacial father, his aloof sister. He recalled never leaving Cannery Row till now. His sister lived in a blue house on the brink of San Francisco with her sickly daughter. She gifted him a forked compass during a long awaited reunion. Henri left abruptly with maritime madness and bitter nostalgia.

Further along, northern California was deciduous, and rocky, and bony. He never found his parents (his mother, wasted by tuberculosis lived beneath the cerulean house and his father, sold into battle and anonymous, slept under a cross; both fertilized daffodils). Fisherman were on the prowl for shadowy schools and a train full of spirits swept past the atheist meadows. Alice was asleep in a bed of foam and singing silently.

In each Oregon hamlet they moored and ate haddock and happiness. Alice came from this hopeful despair, from wedlock, mares, sluiced wheatfields and no men. Some nights she was brought to life and they waltzed, on others she was planar, and lunar, and solar, and angular. He read too much Rimbaud and too little of himself.

Henri remembered his daughter stolen by fortune and the road. He recalled his wife beguiled by fate and the noose. Malvina floated, sweet, white and flowery with golden hair and a compass. He never lifted her fearing she would crumble and that angsty rendez-vous overburdened him more fiercely than it had thirty years ago when he immortalized them in pastels and acrylic. Washington was too regal.

Hazily, they docked in a foggy, forgotten Vancouver and seduced a park in the interior. Three autumnal flowers seized Henri and then he esconsed this unreal surrealness. The roses were wilted on the sill. The sea howled like a lost child on the cool maternal coast.

The orphanage demanded retributions and he ate another plum and drank a gallon of wine. In a journal he scribbled “the world laughing, you are weeping; the world weeping, you are laughing; the world surviving; you are dreaming, to survive inside a dream” and went back to sanding his vessel and exalting the wooden girl.

The rats scampered back in their cages, the vessels were moored to the evening and the gopher met a butterfly in the gutter. Three hours, three months, three years: the boat was nothing but a bad dream.