C. A. Winter Blog

  Coins; a midnight rambling before bed.  I hate doing the nice things, don’t you? Those little gestures that inconvenience yourself for the sake of someone else’s happiness. Your money spent on a coffee. Your time used to pick something out that they might like just because of how you think they’d enjoy it. How they would enjoy it.  But it’s not really for them, is it? At least, not fully for them. No, you get more out of it than they do. Even at your own expense, you have more to gain from it.  A token of appreciation, you call it. But what are tokens if not a means of exchange. You put a token in the machine, and the machine gives you what you want. So, is this token not for your own benefit? You want to see them smile. You want to make their day, as if it’s yours to make. You want them to do the same for you.  And they will get it in their head that they should do the same- that they should repay you for what you’ve done. Even when you say it’s a gift or it’...

ARC Raiders - Embark Studios This evening I was fortunate enough to get my hands on the stress-test demo of Embark Studio's newest IP: ARC Raiders. The game, which promised to revolutionize and make extraction shooter's accessible, leaves me with more questions than a desire to keep playing. What changed in the formula other than an articulate ambiance and a fresh coat of paint with Unreal Engine 5's capabilities?  What exactly is an extraction shooter (ES)?  In simple terms, an extraction shooter is a type of videogame where the players drop or spawn into an area, loot the area, and get out. If you die in the zone, you typically lose all or some of the loot you gathered or came into the map with. Often, we see PvP or PvE or PvPvE mixes for this type of game.  The PvP elements mixed with the loop are what make an extraction shooter an ‘extraction shooter.’  You can do ES without PvP, but the loop is the defining factor. The getting in and getting out with stuff is th...

Excerpt, written at 2:00 am this morning.  By Chase Winter  I wish it would’ve rained today. Nothing big like a summer storm, perhaps just a quick pelting on the rooftop of the cab, a drizzle on the pavement. Something to cool the air a bit, dampen the world burning around me. The drama of it all would be perfect for today.  I told the cabman to take his time and let the ticker go once we arrived at the address I gave him. He knew the building when I told him. Go figure. Probably lots of guys like me talk to guys like him on the way to places like this. We’re a chatty bunch, really. And we love to tell you our story.  I hadn’t been to this spot in years, though I probably should have gone before now. Maybe if I had, then I wouldn’t have to today.  It was hard to be back here. On the street, beneath the steps, just outside of the gate. But it was harder to get off of the leather seat of the cab and onto the concrete. If I told him to keep going, he would, but may...

I had a bite of a macaron and I remembered you. Subtle, sweet, avoidant. The sugar isn't present enough in those pastries and every bite leaves me dissatisfied. Too much air between the layers. I was mincing a clove of garlic and remembered your hand guiding me back and forth on the cutting board. Your pale spindly hands wrapped around mine. I could hear your shrill voice coaxing me to be careful. Coaching me how to cut. In the centre of the city, I walked past a man with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He puffed, and suddenly I could smell our summer together. That year on the lake by the park. Wrapped in a towel underneath the bushes. We chain smoked every night. I coughed up all my money. At a coffee shop near my house, I heard someone order that drink I used to make for you. Every day after work I'd run it to you like an olympic baton and I'd hope that you'd appreciate me for it. Hoped that you'd see how much I cared. And then last week I was in Ikea and I ...

The Candle By Chase Winter Cream circles in a stack of twenty seven. Cute, ornate, simple. Melting on the top where the sun rests during the day. Dust underneath it where the chaos of our little home settles in the evening. The scent faded years ago, maybe a decade ago. Back when I bought it for her, back when I bought things for her. Now it sits with no hope of a flame, waiting to be tossed out with the rest of our home.  Next to it, a vase made of blue and purple ceramic etchings. The body of the vessel stands tall and sturdy next to the aging candle. No marks of the sun, no dust. No history of being dropped or heated. Just a messy plume protrudes from its opening. A wheat plume, perhaps. A symbol of a harvest long forgotten. Oh, how I miss those wispy autumn days. Days before the snow arrived, days before we locked our doors to shelter ourselves from the gale storm approaching. Have we protected ourselves? Are we warm? I am not warm. No, I am naked to the breeze, that biting win...

Happy Monday to my (2?) readers! If you're reading this in Manitoba, perhaps you'll relate to the way I'm feeling today. Yesterday was a dreary, dismal, absolutely depressing day- and it stayed like that until the sun went down. Clouds, rain, chilly winds, leaves turning yellow. Seasonal depression is on the horizon, I just know it. Today, however, is bright and sunny- windy too, but mostly sunny. And I'm thankful for it. Will I be spending much time outside? No. Will I even be looking out the window? Doubt it- I'm writing this, aren't I? But still, I find it to be a good practice to be appreciative of the brighter things in life. Today, this blog feels more like a small talk blurb than anything else, and for that I am sorry. I'm sure that in your search for the post this morning you were hoping for something a little more juicy, but instead you got what you might get while in line at Walmart; comments on the nice weather.  The only interesting thing I have ...

"Being a mistress on the side- m ight not appeal to fools like you Creeping around on the side- m ight not be something you would  But You haven't seen my man, y ou haven't seen my man You haven't seen my man, y ou haven't seen him He's got the fire and he walks with it He's got the fire and he talks with it." This morning, this gloomy morning, I woke up with these lyrics branded into my mind. No particular reason, no special meaning, just a merlot medley of sultry symbolism haunting the halls of my subconscious. (Excessive words- felt nice to say) One of my favourite things to do in the mornings is interpret my dreams. I am a dreamer. Most nights are filled with a mix of memories, repetition, and symbolism. Two of my most re-occurring dreams are a bear chasing or mauling me and a nuclear war from a variety of perspectives. Sometimes, the two will go hand in hand but most of my dreams are one or the other.  Last night, I had the bear chasing me for a w...