For my money, Geist is the coolest, most Canadian literary journal in the egg-headed writing world. The venerable lit mag is one of the few I read from cover to cover; it makes me laugh, makes me envious, and makes me a better reader and writer.
So when I heard they were publishing a piece of mine, I went positively bananas. Working with the gracious editor Dayna Mahannah, I fine-tuned a story that’s very close to me, called The Luck of the Meat Draw.
I’ll forever love being a neighbourhood regular, where customers call my name and save my seat. I get that from my dad. For every city move, I’ve found a characterful watering hole to loyally hang my hat. And from around 2005 to 2015, I hung out at the Army Navy 298 veterans club—we called it The Legion, or Leege—on Vancouver’s eclectic Main Street.
I started off as the token young guy (being 40 and all), hanging with the old veterans and drinkers who practically lived there, until one day, years later, I became one of them, a casualty of narrowing repertoire and lost years.
It was the Meat Draw that first drew me in. Here is the story.
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