Author: Michael Murray

As I am presently suffering with extraordinary, the kind-of-thing-you-could-only-find-in-outer-space sinus pain, I have decided to simply reprint something I wrote for Guerilla Magazine a few years ago about going on Lava Life. Looking for Lava Love-on a budget Michael Murray, Gureilla – Ottawa Culture at Ground Level After desiring a relationship with writer Michael Murray…

On the weekend Rachelle and I went up to Planet Ikea in Scarborough. While there I fell into conversation with one of the cashiers, asking her how her weekend had been going. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and I guess it really doesn’t take very much imagination to realize it was a stupid question…

As it’s been another hot one here in Toronto, I once again decided to take advantage of the AC in my local Laundromat on Queen East and set up my Fortune Telling stall. Shortly after setting up my table, a young girl came in off the street and asked me if I could read her…

The subway ride from Bethesda to Dupont Circle in Washington was dominated by the presence of one man. He was standing behind me, back toward the doors, and he had a disturbing half-smile on his face. His eyelids were droopy, as if he was drugged, and he seemed to be staring into a dimension that…

I’m a pretty exceptional person in all sorts of different ways. Very positive. For instance, right now I am very, very hot, as our apartment is constructed out of fire, and I am also broke, as I just spent all of my money on a poor baseball card investment. But do you see me complaining?…

A few weeks ago I wrote a review of the new A & E show Runaway Squad for Pajiba.com. I’m going to excerpt the very start of the review directly beneath. ***************************** Joe Mazzilli has the blunt appearance of guy who really likes to eat meat. Sausages, in particular. Looking at him, you’d think that…

We never actually penetrated into the city of Buffalo, but stayed on the periphery in a suburb called Amherst. We were only there one night, staying at the Clarion Hotel, a very modest place on an industrial road that catered to Canadians who had driven down to the US in order to fly inexpensively out…

Whenever we make the drive from Toronto to Buffalo, I immediately get a completely different feeling as soon as we cross the border into the States. There are billboards advertising insurance companies and lawyers, and elderly people often man the tollbooths. Abandoned Ferris wheels and cranes, rusted, loom over territories they once ruled. American flags,…

Waiting at the Rideau Center to get on the number five, is a woman with short, spiky hair. She spits on the sidewalk, tossing her head so that her rattail is cast into motion. She’s solidly built, this woman. Maybe she lifts weights. Her posture suggests that she’d be delighted if somebody challenged her to…