Fuck.

I haven’t written anything in three weeks and it’s morning again.
The birds sing through my window and the sun stings my eyes
like an unforgiving soap leaking past ajar eyelids.
Now that I’m awake I dream dream dream
but never eat eat eat because that’s what happens when you’re piss-poor
and that’s what happens when all you want to do is create.

I haven’t written anything in three weeks and today my muse told me why.
She said, “I fucking hate you” but it sounded like, “Do me.”
So that’s what this is. It’s a raping of my muse.
Now that I’ve shot shot shot
things should go smooth smooth smooth like rico suave getting digits
because sometimes that’s what happens when you take a good beer shit.

I've been incredibly bored.

Dear, Jane's Addiction

You cannot be Jane's Addiction without Eric Avery. Please, stop trying. If you do not have Eric Avery playing bass for you, do not make any new music together. Pissing on your legacy only makes me sad.

Sadly, with unconditional love,
Thomas Hoad

A quickly written bucket list without much thought

1. fuck to the entire album of Blood Sugar Sex Magic.
2. see Conan motherfucking O'Brien.
3. meet Simon Gagne.
4. finish a novel.
5. have said novel published.
6. publish a collection of short stories.
7. go to Japan. fuck bitches.
8. eat 8L+ of ice cream in one sitting. flavour does not matter.
9. have a book collection so large that I actually require a "library room."
10. write a biography of Perry Farrell.
11. go to Ireland. fuck wenches.
12. go to Germany. be careful NOT to get fucked by wenches.
13. see the Flyers win the Stanley Cup.
14. get cancer.
15. become the only man ever to have cancer, but live for forty more years with no cancer related ill-effects. secret: eat lots of broccoli.
16. achieve legend status. legend status is achieved by drinking 24 beers in one 24 hour period.
17. eat at least a piece of every edible animal on the planet, and later, maybe from other planets. I just really wonder what rhino tastes like.
18. have a small cult following.
19. be rich enough to be considered "eccentric" when i wear a cape everywhere I go.
20. comission a blacksmith to forge samurai armour and matching katana and wakizashi to my specifications. use for this: unknown.

Cipher Reading

Here I am at Fine Grind a few nights ago looking my Canadian best while reading from my chapbook "I Wasn't Listening."




Photos belong to Stephen Brule.
Also, thanks to Eric Schmaltz for giving me the opportunity to read at this event.

New Books

Four new books purchased today:

We'll Always Have Paris by Ray Bradbury (short story collection)

Paradise Lost by Milton (Just really wanted a copy for myself)

The Fuck-Up by Arthur Nersesian

Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre


Unfortunately, the list of books I'm reading first is unbelievably long. Despite how backed up I am, I keep spending all my money on books.

Currently I'm reading Portions From a Wine Stained Notebook by Bukowski and 11,002 Things to be Miserable About by the Romeos.

I Wasn't Listening

Last night was the kick-off of my self-published chapbook titled "I Wasn't Listening." It's comprised of poems and thoughts that were mostly rediscovered within my university notebooks. Clearly, instead of writing and doodling, I should have been listening.
There is, however, another element to it. The chapbook essentially incorporates both the dark and depressive side of my writing with the comedic well-humoured side, forming a sort of bitter-sweet all new product.

Thus far, reviews have gone unheard.

Currently, the only way to get your hands on this chapbook is by contacting me directly, or by stealing the lone copy that sits on a bookshelf within Fine Grind in downtown St. Catharines. In the future, however, there will likely be readings where at said chapbook will be for sale at the price of your so-...$3.