December 16, 2016

Bruce in Calgary Herald Swerve: A Winter Fling: How the woman who became Mrs. Claus broke my heart

An excerpt from Bruce’s piece in the Calgary Herald:

As it grows late on Christmas Eve, my children hang their stockings in front of our shabby chic gas-converted fireplace. They are too excited to go to bed yet, so we check the “Santa-tracker” on my laptop. Yep, there he is over Greenland. Here he comes! As they finally let me tuck them in, I am peppered with questions about Santa. Will he come? Does he really exist? I look into their sweet, hopeful faces and tell them I know “for a fact that he is real.” What I can’t tell them, is the reason I know. I know Santa is real because years ago I was in a romantic triangle with him.

As my children fade off to sleep, I throw back the drink she and I used to drink—a rye and eggnog. I unplug my Christmas tree and remember how it felt all those years ago. With her, lying on the futon in my apartment above Bagels and Buns. Curled up together, breathing as if we were one. It felt like time had both stopped and was hurtling toward the future. We were young, dumb and in love in equal amounts. Me and the woman who would later become Mrs. Claus. She was the one that got away.

I met Eve when I was 21. I had just finished my shift at the warehouse in Northeast Calgary and luckily I stopped at a diner for a bite. I looked up from my toasted western and there she was; a soft pale face, a red vintage dress that hugged her curves, matching lipstick and a sexy little blunt cut—the kind that only looks good on a woman who’s young and full of life. She was on fire. One of those lost souls whose hunger for life draws you in as quickly as it spits you out. But still, you can’t resist. She walked over and asked me to sign a Greenpeace petition—something about saving reindeer near Carstairs. But I didn’t read it. I just took the pen, warm from her hand, and scribbled my name. I would have signed anything she gave me. Staring into her brown eyes, I was already gone.

Read the whole piece here.

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August 2, 2016

Bruce’s new piece for The New Yorker

Bruce’s new piece for The New Yorker is online: THE MAKING OF A FLOP: INTERNET CAT VIDEO, THE SEQUEL

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September 11, 2015

Bruce’s new piece for Swerve Calgary: Look Again: Chris Cran plays with perception, but he labours under no illusions.

Bruce has written a new piece for Swerve,
Look Again: Chris Cran plays with perception, but he labours under no illusions.

Here’s a taste:

When you see him, he will be wearing a black T-shirt and black jeans. This is exactly the same thing he has worn since he was 16 years old. A time when, bottled up in Salmon Arm, B.C., he was called by outside forces: the pull of the Beat poets Burroughs and Ginsberg, and the rock poets like Bob Dylan. Now over 60 years of age, Cran still wears this “uniform.” But he’s never worn it to be cool. Or to obscure the damage that 500 hangovers can leave on one’s frame. He wears it so his brain is free to think about “other creative things.” Which for 40 years has been mostly one thing: painting.

In full disclosure, I have been a fan (first) and a friend of his for over 20 years. I have waited for his openings in Calgary and Toronto and watched his work get gobbled up by avid collectors. And, as a novice art collector myself, he has always indulged my dumb questions about art. “Where do you get your ideas from?” “What is that one with the wiggly lines about? Are you one of the wiggles?” Once I even asked him, in all seriousness, how long it takes for paint to dry.

Read the rest at calgaryherald.com.

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