Why Stranger Things Season 2 Was Stranger, But Not Better Than The First (Spoilers, Duh)


Stranger Things season 2 was just as addicting as the first. Staying up until ungodly hours of the day because the cliffhangers were just too much, happened again; even while knowing what I was getting myself into this time around.

A few people I’ve talked to since finishing season 2 have all said they enjoyed season 2 more than season 1. I beg to differ, and now I know why:

Episode 7

I had an immediate interest in Eleven finding Eight and bounty-hunting their oppressors together. The problem with this episode (and evidently the entire season) was at no point was I ever convinced Eleven would be in Chicago longer than one episode. We only had two more episodes at this point before the end of the season, and it was clear the only way Hopkins was going to be at peace again was if Eleven went back to save it. Knowing this almost made episode 7 feel like a filler, while entirely messing with the flow of what was happening back in Hopkins. I absolutely loved the idea of Eleven tracking down her other super-powered siblings, but the timing of it all just felt off.

Fast forward to the ending of the season, where everything is wrapped and tied with a nice bow, with a teaser that the upside down is still lurking (which one could assume without the teaser, since Eleven didn’t do anything besides close the gate). This season’s ending was less exciting than season 1. Season 1 shows us that the link between the worlds remain within Will. Season 2’s finale shows us both worlds still exist, full stop.

How it should have ended:

Hear me out, we make tiny adjustments to the current story:

Eight stumbles onto Eleven instead.

Before episode 7, Eleven did not venture outside of Hopkins once. Eight, is a vigilante outcast who travels around the US killing anyone involved with her past. It would make perfect sense for her to eventually take a trip to Hopkins where she’d find someone involved with the experiments, kill them, and be caught square in the middle of our world vs The Upside-Down. Here, she meets Eleven and together they defeat the Shadow Monster, which now sets up a much more interesting Finale.

We know that Eleven’s determining factor of not traveling with Eight was to save her friends. With her friends already safe, Eleven can truly be torn between continuing with her new-found sister or remaining in Hopkins with her friends. It’s already been confirmed that Season 3 will have a time skip so at worst, the directors could have started season 3 with Eleven and Eight united, allowing the audience to put together that some time has passed since the last episode, and setup for a dramatic return to Hopkins, maybe even with some new and improved powers…

Episode 7 was great for a spin-off/ backstory mini-series, but having only 9 episodes in a season made the episode feel almost pointless when looking at the season individually. It will however, setup an interesting story line for the next season!

~ Jay

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Depressed asshole
I’m sure you’ve heard this before
My art relies on heartbreak
What if I’m not anymore?
I’m sure you’re reading this title thinking “here we go again”
He only writes while in darkness
Well, hello my old friend

It’s been so long how are you keeping?
How’s the Fam?
It’s been awhile since you’ve been around
I took my happiness and ran
Now, here we are in this waiting room
I was gone a year and still feel like I’m back too soon
I know we’re both just playing our part
So if its time to get down to it, I guess I’ll start let’s see

I’m underpaid
Just about to go berserk
Stomach grumbling, with All Eyes On Me
I’m about to snatch a purse
Use that cash to find an accomplice who will play his part
And the rest to buy automatic weapons from an American Wal-Mart
Mask Off in the winter season, ignore The Reason
Rob a bank with Hoobastank
Make it out before they find out I’m black  because-
They’ll shoot me before they lock me up…

So pour another drink into my Dixie cup:

Distance put the first strain on my relationship
On a part-time job I couldn’t afford to put gas in the whip

Trouble struck when the idea came up
To make a move
But I had networked in Toronto, I couldn’t fill those shoes
I couldn’t do that to you, new job, new city, and no family
I felt the weight of new stress coming down on me
What happens on a bad day when you look down on me?
That’s my fault, I guess that’s just how my brain works
I’m supposed to be a writer, but still fail to find the words

The final straw was being open to seeing others
With tight schedules it was hard for us to ever see each other
I’m feeling hopeful, like this could really last forever
But you messed up
In the only way that felt insurmountable
The worst part about it all?
I had to hold myself accountable
Believe me, I didn’t want to, but I had no choice
I needed to scream, but all the rage consumed my voice
You needed me to comfort you but there was so much doubt
I contemplated finding his address, and, casually burning his house
Thinking you got some nerve, soiling my skin
Then I sit back and laugh like I’m innocent from all sins
Pulling in some young buck
Who only got this far through dumb luck
I was prepared for that storm right before the lightning struck
I hurt you for two years straight
You’ve potentially hurt us forever
Having no excuse for why it happened
Didn’t make it any better

If you’re curious of how I’m dealing with this so-called loss
My answer? 24/7 streams of Bob Ross
No such thing as mistakes
Just happy little accidents
I swear I believe in monogamy
I just cant seem to practice it
Then it’s on to some Bourbon and Budden…
My heart hurts Superbad
I’m in need of a little Mclovin
I know, I’m carrying on,
And no I ain’t just frontin’
Look my bad,
It would feel better if  you were just getting back at me
When I finally let these tears fall
I’ll tell everyone “Oh just it’s allergies”
Till then I’ll let these words cry
And use the shades you bought me
To cover my eyes

So Darkness, mix some beer atop my liquor to kill the taste
Every last drop, lets not let anything go to waste
Of course this love is difficult
It was good before we broke it
But its worth learning from
Writing is how I cope with it

~ Jay

“I’m not really sure what love is
I know what they say it is in Corinthians
Love is patient, love is kind, etcetera, etcetera
I’m just not sure I agree with all that bullshit
Love is relative to whomever it stems from
If the seed is weak how could the love be strong?
Maybe we should all just stop looking and let it come find us
How can love not be prideful when that’s all the giver of it knows?
Heh, how about I just don’t fuckin know?
Maybe we’ll all just keep fucking each other up
until somebody finally figures it out
Or we kill each other trying”

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Seasons, Race Wars, and More

It’s been awhile since I’ve used this keyboard. I can feel the stiffness in my tendons as my fingers find Home Row.

I could never live in a city with one season. I’ve known this for a while, but I’m only coming to realize why now. I admit, Winter really sucks, but having four seasons help me remember that life is moving forward. With, or without me.

My memory and the weather seem to be directly related. I can recall some of my darkest memories. The day George hit me in the head with a questionable “snow” ball that caused my head to swell. How much trouble I got into that day, and how we stopped being friends when my mother knocked on his door, visible steam radiating from her head. The day we lost to Burlington in the Tyke Football Championship Game. How my stubby legs sunk knee-deep into the snow.

The day The Monster was arrested. The thickness and humidity in the air. My infant brother still defecating himself in his pampers. It was so unbelievably hot that night, we all took to sleeping on the floor in the living room; with the exception of The Monster of course. The living room was the only location in the house with AC. I remember how my cousins and I hid under the sheets, pretending to be asleep as loud bangs on the front door echoed through the house. As the sweat ran dripped off my nose, I could see the reflection of the siren lights in the living room window.

That was approximately sixteen years ago…

Today is July 08 2016. I’m reading about the Race Wars in America, and how idiotic they must look to the rest of the world. I imagine two monkeys in a cage throwing their feces at each other. It brings me such sorrow. I remember the Trayvon Martin case. Following the news religiously, posting on social medias, signing petitions on Change.org – you name it. But the point of this post isn’t to talk about injustices.

The point of this post is, that as I type this up, I’m looking out the office windows at five children playing in water I’d frankly never stick my toe in. There are four boys and one girl. Two of the boys have a pallet resembling Casper. The other two boys are dark skinned, rich with thick curled hair that must be impossible to stick a comb through. The girl streaking through the water, has the complexion of the bottom of the Ice-cap from Tim Hortons that you never finish because all the taste is gone. They are all laughing, playing and hugging. The point is that ill never forget this day, this sight, or the beautiful 28 degree weather. It’s the day I remembered among all this fighting, we used to be connected…

Who detached us?


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Pawn to E4

The game of Chess is beautiful.
Undoubtedly, so are you.
Just like Chess,
My appreciation for your design is rudimentary.
Maybe I don’t understand you yet,
Perhaps I need more time.
A determined individual I am;
The stars will align.
If I could move like the Knight,
Be brave and bold.
Say everything just right,
Raining fear from above –
Unorthodox traversing,
Putting the L in love

How about straight-forward like the Rook?
But the Rook is in, then he’s out.
No time to remember all the pieces he took.
Is this the honest hour? Oh, well
Im inclined to tell,
I want this moment to last.
Taking precaution on my next move,
Refusing to let it pass too fast.
And I just want a sample,
I just want a piece,
Slide across the city like the Bishop
Just to be discreet.
Or I could take it slow,
Like the Pawn:
One step at a time,
Weakest of my advances,
But one thing on his mind.

You see there’s nothing like that first time
When our eyes met.
Heavy breathing, steamy Windows,
A painted picture, I won’t soon forget.
Speaking of heavy breathing,
I can’t seem to control mine.
If I don’t get my King out of here,
It’ll be game over in no time,
But my Rook is shook
My Bishop is trapped –
(Maybe I should get on top of that…)
Just need a way across the pond
To get next to you Queen,
We only ever play at midnight
So I turn on the high beams,
To witness everything that I’ve been dreaming for,
I see my victory,
And so much more.
Its dark outside, but clear to see
I want you to remember me.

Posted in the corner like a student in detention,
Is my last shivering Pawn.
And my King won’t stand at attention,
As you go in for the kill
I wonder if I’ll get this chance again…
She puts her hand around my neck,
I release the tension in my fists.
She places a smile on her face,
And a kiss on my lips.
She says “it’s getting late”
As her Queen slides to E4,

There will be more games,
More chances to win.
We reset the pieces,
And the match begins.

~ Jay

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Something boils inside

Confessions of a damned love

Head to the sky, mercy me Father above

Six Hail Mary’s please forgive


Endless Shots of sin

Smoking on profanity

The brown paper bag blues

Have a way of catching up with you


The rush we used to feel

Dining and dashing

The law on our heels

A united front

The Kane to my Abel

Pulling off all kinds of stunts


Now we tip toe around every corner

Fear in every step resides

No longer worried about the townspeople

But the faces we don’t recognize

Wishing I could take your hand

Somewhere that we could run and hide

Maybe click our heels and escape

On a magic carpet ride

But this ain’t Disney

Yearning for a swim, in your Oceania

But this ain’t Sydney

Aware of the dangers

But when we’re apart

We might as well be strangers


It’s frustrating

It’s exhausting

The ducking and diving

Sneaking and hiding

Half-truths, but mostly lying

Holding hands in private

Scanning empty rooms for cameras

A sight to see so preposterous

A love so Innocuous


Protesters march

Pitchforks and torches

The streets are locked down

Stunting our advances

Small towns with deaf ears

No place for first chances

Self-harm coping with the pain

But we’re just dying to live


We’re different colours on the surface

But we both feel love inside

Confessions of a damned love

During the Apartheid

Jay ~


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Part-Time Lovers

I was wondering when this day would come
Lying to myself, pretending
I didn’t know where it was coming from
Maybe I saw the signs
Instead I refused to believe
The alteration in your demeanor
Could disrupt anything we’ve achieved

We’ve come so far already
What’s the point of reverting?
How can you live with yourself?
When the one who loves you is hurting?

I’ll never forget the first day we met
You were with her, and I with him
But oh how quickly we’d soon forget
I mean, I look in the mirror disgustingly
So I watch my reflection in your eyes so reluctantly…

I see it,
I see it in all these young couples
They walk the mall, hand-in-hand
With hopes of something deeper than a one-night-stand
As I clap, as I applaud
I know how this movie ends
No one in this love life, is ever your forever
You sign up for full-time
But you’re a part-time worker
The hours are suck
You’re underpaid
They couldn’t care less about your story
Your schedule is inconsistent
You’re at the bottom of seniority

So wake me up when there’s a full time position
Heartbreak on my mental
I won’t settle for your rental
But since love is in the air
I know just what to do

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Happy Valentine’s Day

To you too


~ Jay


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Post New Year Advice

By now I’m sure the Good Life’s, World gym’s, and other muscle building hangouts have made their quota for the year with the surplus of hopefuls rushing to sign up or renew memberships for 2016. Although my new year has been nothing short of painfully dreadful (but to be fair 2015 ended on a decline)  I’d like to offer some words to the wise before you all step on that scale today with optimistic hopes.

Just recently, an old workout partner of mine were conversing.  I hadn’t seen him in awhile and we were catching up.
I’m about 150 pounds soaking wet, and although I can’t pinpoint my exact height, I still need the tips of my toes to reach some items in your average kitchen.

It’s safe to say whatever athletic ability I maintain is surely through the power of youth and natural athleticism. Sure, I’d love to walk around the 4 percent body fat, but that’s just not happening,and I’m completely OK with that.

During my casual chat with Old Workout friend,  he pinched my arm to see how much bigger I’ve gotten since he’s last seen me, to be frank he was unimpressed. In the midst of trying to explain that we went in together, and without him providing the other half of the funds he shouldn’t be surprised at the lack of my “gains”. He proceeded to pompously lift his sleeve to expose his biceps. “let me show you what I’ve been working on”  he says, paying more attention to the veins on his arm than the reasoning as to why I didn’t look the way he was expecting. I won’t even begin to list all the signs of narcissism I witnessed in the span of one conversation.

I remember staring at the ceiling that night, wondering if he ever cared how my progress was going, and simply took it as an opportunity to display his own achievements. I’m in no way a lifter, and will most likely never be one, so there isn’t anything to be jealous about, I was confused  more than anything as I came to the realization the conversation had lost its genuine sense of interest- if it ever had one, between engaging parties. If this had happened to me before in a different way, I’ve never noticed before now.

This is yet another year for you to gauge your progress. If that includes the way you look,  don’t let anyone adjust the lense you see yourself through. If they do, you become your worst enemy;and when that happens, nothing will ever be good enough.


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Walk, Man

I used to love her

Remember when we were young?

We were inseparable

I’d rap along dumb

To every song you sung

I’d finish your sentences

I brought you everywhere I went

Parents hating on all the time we spent

They said “I wish you studied your books the way you study that thing”

Christmas Eve couldn’t compare to the joy you’d bring

On restless nights, I’d listen to you talk till I fell asleep

I’d wake up the next morning to still find you here with me

As we got older, you taught me the explicit side

Your words changed, but you never killed my vibe

Other people hating on you but id never sway

They’d tell me that werent worth my time

That you’ve passed away

But I kept fighting the good fight, I stayed by your side

We still walked, Walkman in hand, stride for stride

And in my heart, is where I kept you when you weren’t around

I’d listen to your old voice notes until the sun went down

I was sure nobody could take you from me

Watch them imitate your beauty on TV

But when I see now

I barely recognize you

This inflated world, has helped super-size you

I still hear you time to time from another man’s car

I like to think he treats you better but I wouldn’t go that far

I used to listen to every word you’d say

He just turns you up and bobs, once he’s pressed play

He doesn’t listen to your vocals, or how much you’ve improved

He drowns your message out with the bass

And how it makes him move

We try to talk sometimes

Today, it’s like we speak different languages

Maybe its destiny

The way it’s meant to be

We grow out of each other

We fall out of love eventually

But I still awkwardly remember the good times

The dopamine in my brain

The Louis lane to my Clarke Kent

The  Parker to my Mary Jane

Maybe one day we’ll wake up

And be in love again

I used to love her

Oh, when I used to love her


Jay ~

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Blank Stares

How long can a blank page stay blank?

The question I’ve asked myself over and over the past few months.

It’s only once you’ve typed the question out itself,

How long can a blank page stay blank?

This is the moment you realize, your page is no longer blank

Well now what?

Do you force yourself to create an entire blog post on the basis of nothing? Do you ramble until you hit your word quota? Well unfortunately for your sorry lack of skill, you’ve already done blogs on both those of those topics so better look elsewhere!

Should you write about ISIS?

And how creative their Facebook page is?

Maybe about bondage and submission

Or how you walked door-to-door for commission

Should you write a new story?

Return your page to its past days of glory?

Should we talk about being a man again?

Because I fail to keep up with the Kardashians?

How many words can I fit on a page?

As I sit back, laugh, scoff at my age

My the diminishing child in me

Still enjoys watching Christmas specials on Disney

It feels like I’m drowning

Surrounded by oxygen

Like i’m locked in a box

With a key that I’ve swallowed

Windows that I broke

Mirrors all around

But strangely no smoke

If I could just get my foot into the door

I’d tell them how passionate I am

How high my ceiling is

How I can will my way into almost believing it

Winter is coming and my heart’s getting cold

Colder than the Winter Soldier

While he’s getting a little older

Standing next to a White Walker

Using ice cubes as fodder

In the middle of December

Oh, is that why this Christmas is drier than I remember?

So how long can blank page stay that way?

For as long as you have nothing to say

This is the milk with no cereal

Actors with no theatre

So this is More About Nothing

No Wale feature

And to those who have expected better

Really I apologize

I’ve kept my absence up

Much longer than i had prophesied

J ~

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Good Morning

I remember studying for geography tests when I was younger. I’d life my oversized grade five text book right to my face, reading the names of the Province’s, Capitals, and territories over and over again. When I felt I had studied them sufficiently enough, I’d close my textbook, wipe my the cover, close my eyes and begin to recite what I had learned. If I made and mistakes I’d swing the textbook upwards, slapping it in the square of my forehead. I’d repeat this process till I had everything memorized.

In my twenty three years, I’m wondering my bizarre system learning has changed at all.
For awhile, I’ve been operating under the impression that I was inviting you into a vast perspective of how i see the world. However, multiple times this year i’ve been shown just how small that perspective is. If I truly believe in something, I will fight my point til my dying breath, but in order to grow I cannot refuse the concerns of other beliefs around me.

My cousin laughed and said “you’d make a good Christian boy”
Sarcasitc laughter without Christmas joy
My friends tell me i should take up fashion
My girl thinks i should take up acting
First it was the nene
Now its watch me whip
Might as well drop out
With all the class you skip
You sing “way up i feel blessed”
When deep down your streesed
They want me to vote on this upcoming election
But im still focused on my own self-reflecting
They defile your name
Strip you of your clothes
While rappers all sing “we dont love them hoes”
They put a ball in your hand
And tell you where to shoot
You bring glory to their school
They tell you you’re a star
Knowing four years later
You wont get very far
But its good while it lasts
Its all just a game
And the just made a million off your name.
I’m still that kid smacking textbooks off my forehead till I get it.
I know, one day i’ll come to peace with it.
One day ill learn to deal with it.
I’ve been competitive
Way before my teens
But we’ve been divided
Long before we started picking teams,
You ever wonder what it all really means?


~ Jay

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