Princegeorgebc storie

"What are we doing here?" "What do you mean?" "We're trapped in this godforsaken city! Living like rats! Destined to die!" "You seem to know exactly what we're doing here." "Why us? Why here? Why like this!!" "Because we were sent to Hell. Look around you. All of this? We're home."

"Fade in and fade out, again and again." Maddox Melrose has grown up in Prince George, BC his entire life. He's worked dead-end, minimum wage jobs since he graduated highschool - which he was told he'd never get to see graduation, by the people who were supposed to be raising him. Everybody he once knew from school, people who he considered to be friends, have deserted him. He has nobody. He is nothing. When an intriguing individual saves him from a scary experience, he is introduced to a world that makes him feel like he's running the show. He feels like something, like somebody, for once. But how long will the feeling last? And at what cost to keep riding the high?

Here's a continuation of 365, the story where I do my best to write SOMETHING every day. Wattpad has a chapter limit of 200, and that was reached on July 19th. So, the rest of the year will be written in this, I guess. The first 200 days of the year are in a story simply called "365". (It has the same cover.) STARTED: July 20th, 2022 FINISHED: October 27th, 2022 (due to unforeseen circumstances)

this is an excerpt from a notebook I have called "random stuff", which was basically intended to allow me to scribble. whatever was on my brain when I picked up the pen would go into this book. anything and everything was free game. I originally didn't want anything from this book to ever be shared, but this part I want to exist somewhere else, in case the original book ever got destroyed. as of this moment I write this, it's still intact, but maybe the future will want it destroyed. I just don't want to forget this. these excerpts are describing my first day at Street Spirits Theatre Company in Prince George BC, and anything else dedicated to Street Spirits itself. The first excerpt was originally written on march 17th, 2021.

"What is this world coming to??" "What do you mean, Blue?" "You know what I mean! Damn it, we grew up in these streets! We know these back alleys more than we know ourselves! But now.... Now, I'm not so damn sure anymore...." "You're not bailing on me, Blue-" "-Listen to yourself, Riz! Just stop and listen to yourself. I'm not doing this anymore. I'm not ride or dying when there's only death around us. This isn't a game, Riz. This is real. And damn it, it's getting too real for me. I just wish you'd see that."

hello again! another poetry book - number four, to be exact. if you've been here a while, you know the drill: there's no order to this thing, and after 100 poems or writing pieces, there's gonna be a new book. about the cover: it was a Thursday at Street Spirits, a local theatre group in PG. I was waiting outside the building, and it started raining. I liked the aesthetic of it. it gave off a very "theatre of the oppressed" feel, which is what Street Spirits does. I loved it. every time I see this photo, I'm taken back to rehearsal. STARTED: Jan.18.22 FINISHED: Jul.20.22

I had this idea last night after a few drinks, a pounding headache, and an excessive amount of throat lozenges. In order to inspire me to write more often than I currently do, I am planning to write a new post every day and publish it, allowing me to rant about whatever is on my mind. Anything goes with this story. Maybe I will talk about something deep and metaphysical about the meaning of human existence, or rant about why my life sucks and how I prefer iced tea over hot tea. Anything goes. This is just an inspiration to allow me to write SOMETHING every single day of the year. Hopefully I can keep up.... If I end up deleting this story, I guess you'll know that I failed. STARTED: January 1st, 2022. TECHNICALLY FINISHED: July 19th, 2022 "365 pt 2" has been started, and will have the rest of 2022. Wattpad has a limit of 200 chapters. Who knew?

Hand in hand, followed by a trail of blue smoke....

Prince George, BC. 1999. A brilliant social worker, poet, playwright, and theatre activist named Andrew Burton decides to start a youth group based around theatre. It started as a way to get kids off the streets, get them invested in something that made them feel involved. The first play this group of youth put on was at Art Space, a performance space above a beloved local bookstore. A poster was created for the event with local art. It read: A Headlines Theatre Power Play CASEY Community Against Sexual Exploitation of Youth September 16, 17, 18 at 8pm It was a success. The group found their name all by themselves. They called themselves Street Spirits. Street Spirits practice a variety of theatre forms, mainly using a style of theatre called Theatre of the Oppressed, created by Brazilian theatre master Augusto Boal. The idea is to create a play with no happy ending, only to invite the audience to the stage to change the dreary outcome and make it better - to create change. Street Spirits also weave in a variety of other techniques by Boal, a couple favorites of many being Cop in the Head, and Rainbow of Desire. Street Spirits tackle a variety of different and difficult topics, some of which include drug use, sexual exploitation, bullying and harassment, domestic violence, and homophobia. In this volume are ramblings from a former Street Spirits member, in various forms and styles of writing mediums. During this member's time with Street Spirits, writing became a very strong part of their identity and self discovery, and how they perceived the world around them. "We are changing the world, one performance at a time." ~Street Spirits Theatre Company~

breathing through the motions not actually taking in any air brain is starved of oxygen words turn to mush up there goopy and globular brain matter soup without a side of saltines to crush overtop of the bowl

An elf prince catches blood on the breeze, and the blood is human - humans are a legend, talked as though they don't exist. Humans would never appear in elven lands. Until now. Something stirs in the prince, and he has a desire to protect this human at all costs. Is it fate? Is it the Old Gods way? Why is this human, new and different in comparison to him, his whole life? *This story is a collection of 75 Word Short Stories to tell the whole story itself.*

third poem collection. they aren't in any particular order or anything like that, and after 100, there will always be a new one. if you've been here a while, I'm sure you know the drill. now, about the cover. it was a random Thursday, and an old friend and I went to Cottonwood Island Park in PG. this bridge is covered in graffiti and writing, and it has been painted over to cover it up, or boards have been replaced to get rid of it. yet, there's always writing on this bridge. it felt like no matter what, nobody can silence the voices that need to be heard. and I felt that. anyways, please enjoy this chaotic collection of poetry. STARTED: March 2nd, 2021 FINISHED: January 18th, 2022

Cover photo taken from a happy December sunset. Here is a chaotic mix of whatever poems come to mind. No placement or order. After 25, there will be another book. STARTED: Jan.13.25

locally bound by monsters of hate city lights and traffic blaze broken down kicked aside and left for dead these are my words my fears whatever i have left this is my story

"Numbness takes over. It feels like ice in my veins. Hot and cold all at once. I know I'm hurting those around me. I know they hate me for it. I know all the shit they say about me and what I do to myself. But in this moment, they're ghosts. A distant memory of another time when all I could be was a kid looking for some kind of escape. And I'm going to get out of here. Any way I can."