I Survived the 2006 Maritime Writers’ Workshop and Literary Festival – The Making of Angry Young Poets

So, as if it wasn’t enough to have the wits and whats scared out of us … they forced us to go on a boat. On the water.

We were all happy, though somewhat nervous about reports of cities around the earth mysteriously disappearing and being replaced by cheese soup; but hell, in some cases cheese soup was probably OK.

We were all young and innocent. Each of us still had that babyish look of wonder in our eyes. We had futures, loves and laughs sparking through the axons and dendrites of our inner selves. We craved the moment just ahead of the moment we lived. We were young fools.

This is what we looked like before the horror … before the boat ride to hell. Notice the happy dendrites.

Immediately upon setting out, the boat veered toward the dreaded CNR bridge, reminder of Canada’s great symbol of unity and oneness of vision, now a metallic monstrosity fraught with pedestrians, bicyclists, and tourists. And joggers. We passed under the bridge, listening fearfully to its grinding and groaning under the weight of non-motoring humanity above. Girders threatened to crack and plunge onto the deck. Pigeons waved their asses menacingly. Those of us without hats covered out heads with our hands.

The dreaded CNR bridge, once a great symbol … now a ramp between river banks for those too cheap to put bucks into the pockets of needy oil barons and much maligned auto makers.

As in a movie about miracles, we made it to the other side of the bridge without incident. Tongues loosened. Smiles ventured forth timidly. Shoulders slouched back into bad posture. Someone laughed. A chair scraped on the deck as another adjusted to view the scenic shore. Others laughed. Conversation filled the aquatic air.

And then it happened.

Fredericton was invaded by aliens.

It was horrific! They shot death rays into the hills, killing innocent rabbits and spruce bud worms. They darted in and out of view, somersaulting and flying at weird angles never before seen on earth.

The aliens attacked the hills around Fredericton, mistaking rabbits and spruce bud worms to be the only intelligent life forms.

The attack was over within minutes. The rabbits were decimated; the bud worms, debudded. The mood on the boat forever changed. We were no longer innocent. The sight of rabbit smoke had modified our world view. We had become sullen and silent. We all fell grimly to Post Boat Floating Past Alien Invasion Syndrome.

After the invasion, our lives, our demeanor, our world view had changed. This angry young poet says it all.

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