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Booksie Address:
Country: Canada
Favorite book: Sooner ask me to pick a favourite star
Member Since: Oct 27, 2012

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Writing Portfolio

Thoughtful Reflections and perspective

by Aerial90
Posted: Dec 22, 2014
Thoughtful reflections...

Old man Cameron

Novel by Aerial90
Posted: Oct 24, 2014
His life was disregarded but his intriguing history...

The Warmth of Spirit

Short Story by Aerial90
Posted: Jun 19, 2014
Finding joy in people who are not what you'd expect.

Everyone moves their own mountains, or decides to camp out at the bottom

Article by Aerial90
Posted: Jan 24, 2014
Thoughts I have about life's conditions, the...

Winter's love

Short Story by Aerial90
Posted: Dec 12, 2013
Winter has been born, but struggles to find happiness...

Don't let it loss define your "I will never's"

by Aerial90
Posted: Sep 18, 2013
Poem about about a person growing wiser through...

Floe Lake, Banff

Article by Aerial90
Posted: Aug 6, 2013
A description of my first back country camping trip....

In the face of death, all life is defiance

Short Story by Aerial90
Posted: Feb 7, 2013
Creative writing exercise to use five key words in a 250...

Mountain Chickadee

by Aerial90
Posted: Jan 12, 2013
Past still haunts as one tries to move on.

Prologue to Cocidic Civilization

Novel by Aerial90
Posted: Dec 20, 2012
Post-apocalyptic earth is trying to be reborn against the...

You've got me on fire

Poem by Aerial90
Posted: Nov 8, 2012
These are song lyrics for a song in-progress. I hope to...

Our Fathers and Brothers Lost

Poem by Aerial90
Posted: Oct 27, 2012
A brother becomes lost to his addiction and in doing so...

Chelsea's Mermaid Pony

Short Story by Aerial90
Posted: Oct 27, 2012
I do not wish to be a slave to modern conveniences in the...

Insomnia by Aerial90

Short Story by Aerial90
Posted: Oct 27, 2012
Margie is not prone to skittishness. She's a crafty young...

Mrs. Keil

Short Story by Aerial90
Posted: Oct 27, 2012
Every child in Canada at some point has endured the...


Poem by Aerial90
Posted: Oct 27, 2012

What do you do when you dream a scene, a picture so clear it feels like you're there? You write. You become absorbed in a world of your own creation. If you're very very lucky, you have patient friends, and encouraging spouses. You beg for proof reads and the indulgence of those who love you the most. In the end, you revise revise revise until you must stop yourself from stripping the moment of truth from your message. I've kept a journal since I could write. Now leary of who may happen upon my exposed and very odd inner self, I instead find myself writing in a sort of code. I hint at what's behind my words, like bread crumbs, it will lead me back again.

I beg the indulgence of the wide web with its outlets of creation, and an easier means of sharing unfinished works, where I will mercilessly send any willing reader and save a few trees along the way. God bless the written word, it has started wars (but don't bless it for that), won hearts, and bound untouchables to law - it's a medium that takes new turn on a  road of cyber sets. How many untold places will it reach? What is the ultimate question? The answer is 42.

Unassuming, naively hopeful, mildly synical, faithfully optimistic, I have known love, I have known love's keen losses, and now I strive for a certain balance and peace that comes from years of taking the long road home. Home ...I dream of one day.


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