Subliminal White Trash

Welcome. This site contains a cross section of my writing including stories, comedy skits, dialogues and observational humour with a satirical edge. Feedback is much appreciated. Coming through people! Clear a path! My e-mail is

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Location: Burlington, Ontario, Canada

After graduating high school in 1995 with a significant amount of embarrassingly cliched emotional baggage, Kevin "Subliminal White Trash" Pearce made his way to Toronto in a perfectly understandable attempt to outrun his past. After encountering many similarly desperate and stubbornly eccentric people, Kevin found his way into the acting and spoken word scenes. With an amazing and almost inhuman effort, Kevin somehow negotiated through his self destructive tendencies on his way to finding some kind of second rate enlightenment in his strange little world of reckless, impulsive creativity. After spending three years in Toronto, Kevin decided to return to the suburbs in order to preserve his diminishing supply of mental health. Sometimes he even thinks it was the right decision.

Thursday, October 10, 2013

In my Dreams

THIS IS AN ONGOING POST...It is currently August 6th and I'm still adding to it.

A little background.  I haven't written much poetry in awhile but recently I have been inspired to do so. However, it is the easiest art form in which to be completely terrible.  So don't judge me too harshly on this.  Also, despite the negative tone to this poem my dreams aren't always this dark and dysfunctional although there are some reoccurring themes here.  I have plenty of happy dreams.  They just aren't that interesting.  Hope you enjoy.

In my dreams
the car never has brakes
the gun is always loaded
animals are ready to attack

People get hurt

In my dreams
childhood memories are no longer sacred
understanding comes with a price
the pillars of sanity are on fire

People get hurt

In my dreams
my heroes betray me
love fights its weary battle with apathy
uncertainty rules the night

People get hurt

In my dreams
desire is just out of reach
temptation leads to regret
guilt and shame are the biggest show in town

People get hurt

In my dreams
Crushed by the weight of abstract symbolism
Starving for air
I disappear into the crowd
and pretend that nobody got hurt

I write pick-up lines to amuse myself and's a few.  More coming soon.

"I'm kind of a big deal here.  I know the dishwasher."
"You look like you're pretty high maintenance.  Fair assessment?"
"I saw you on the dance floor.  You looked like a retarded goat having a seizure."
"Your friend is hot.  Is she single?"
"I never flaunt my money.  It wouldn't be fair to the other guys in the bar."
"Didn't I see you on that porn website?  You're good.  You're really good."

short poems...not be continued

my old roommate once said
"Why are you trying to poison me?"
his mental illness shone bright that day

senior citizens moving slow
staring at the ground with nowhere to go
soon they will join their friends down below
and on their graves flowers will grow

never prank call 911
the operators don't like humour
they have a job to do
and their ears are
overwhelmed with death

An old lady in my apartment building died yesterday
The Salvation Army truck was out front
Her worldly possessions stacked high
Strangers will soon find them a new home
as the cycle of life and death perpetuates
and mutates together as one

the night after Halloween

walking home from a lifeless downtown
I see a poorly made skeleton
hung by a noose
blowing in the wind
tied to a tree branch
older than I am
as leaves dance around my feet
until I kick them away
and silently wonder
"How often do people lie to themselves
to move ahead with their lives?"
There are no more hills to climb
No more childhood mountains
to conquer


I'm through with contemplation
I want to be your good piece of heaven
I need something from your heart in return
Sometimes I may need you to be strong for me
Your eyes against me make me wonder
Has anyone told you different?
Tell them to get out of my way

Do not fear the grave
It just might be an eternity of silence
You won't feel a thing


It is a death
in and of itself
giving death
no meaning
just part of the
inexorable routine
while the words
eat themselves

I've taken a bunch of acting classes in my Toronto days but I still don't know how to act normal.
Rob Ford blah blah blah.   Can't we all just smoke vitamins?
I once witnessed a girl reduced to a sobbing wreck when she couldn't score weed before school.  Pathetic.  Yawn.
I'm watching CNN and they're interviewing a retired ATF agent and he has a black eye and a bandage on his forehead.  The guy's retired and he still can't catch a break.
Today I walked with purpose but not urgency.  Such a fine line.
I eat too much yogurt.  Seriously.  I think I have a problem.  Also, eating too much peanut butter gives you a headache.
Which word do you prefer.....PUKE or BARF?  I think barf implies more of a projectile can puke in your mouth a bit but BARF sounds like you're emptying your stomach across the goddamn ROOM.  Also, let's not forget about VOMIT.  It carries a certain authority.
You heard it here folks.  I pick my bacon right from the TREE. No, wait.  That was a dream.  A TASTY dream.
To all you phone addicts.  I have something called a 'landline'.  I can also see dinosaurs out my window.
I'm concerned about my concerns.  It's very concerning.
I actually took the time to read the latest bit of spam on my e-mail account.  The usual bullshit but it ended with a gem:  "The problem with adult sex cams is that they are often full of lies."  Hilarious! 
I asked an 'associate' what his novel in progress is about.  "Life."  He said.  Wow.  That narrows it down.  Yawn.
There's a new reality show on TLC called "Best Funeral Ever."  I don't know about you but when I find out I'm going to a funeral the first thing I think is 'Will this be the one?  The funeral I've been dreaming about all these years?  Funeral perfection?  Will the sandwiches really be THAT GOOD?'
I'm not paranoid.  You're just uninformed.
I was watching a show about the destructive powers of weather and then I stepped outside and the sun felt like an orgasm.
I've seen a band I like four million times.  Divided by a million.
Dear ______________.  Get off the tit and put your big boy pants on.
Don't get too close to me.  My bullshit filter is strong.
Being a writer means keeping your friends on a long leash.
In the future, everyone will pretend to like Andy Warhol for fifteen minutes.
The previous confusion was incorrect.  However, the apology will be even more confusing.
Say something interesting enough that I will remember it tomorrow and I will forgive you for yesterday.
If I ever need an organ donor I really hope they don't die screaming.
Your bacon etiquette is surprising yet effective.
A friend on Facebook wrote "I'm so grateful for all the supportive people in my life." so I replied "I'm so supportive of all the grateful people in my life."
When people write 'LMAO' are they temporarily removed from their buttocks due to the intensity of the laughter?  In a metaphysical way?  Or something?
A friend of mine told her grandma "Stop going to the casino and spending my inheritance."
Breaking up a fight at a holiday party:  "GET OFF OF HIM GODDAMNIT.  I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS.  IT'S THE HOLIDAYS.  SHARE THE LOVE GODDAMNIT.  You stand HERE and you stand THERE.  ARE WE DONE WITH THIS BULLSHIT?  Next time you open your mouth drink some GODDAMN EGGNOG."
A friend of mine told me that she doesn't care if she ever has sex again.  She can have an orgasm taking a dump or crossing her legs a certain way.  Must be nice.
I find it funny when people stumble over the word 'articulate'.  The irony!
Some lighters have a kill switch which is why the Zippo is the preferred lighter by junkies and arsonists alike.
We've all been there.  Where memory lane intersects with regret avenue.
Never underestimate the power of wearing comfortable socks.
I was watching a spider on my balcony, dead center in the middle of his perfect web and for a second everything made sense.  The next day the web and the spider were gone.
Live every day like it's your last?  Sounds like a lot of crying and good-byes.  Try doing that every day and watch your family and friends disappear from your life in a hurry.
Why is it that people automatically look sexier when wearing aviation sunglasses?
I never understood the AC DC song "Thunderstruck".  Shouldn't it be "Lightningstruck"?
Some people bottle up their feelings.  Many of those people use the bottle to deal with their bottled up feelings.  How appropriate.

another poem based on a dream

vast jungles of flesh
giants of monotony
these intellect crushing beasts
disguised gardens of deceit
from a petri dish poisoned by mutant chemicals
what's left of the beauty transforms to become wings
sometimes I wonder if I should speak of these things
who could be listening in?
breathing the thick air of lost opportunities
crying heavy tears of expired love
witnessing a higher form of intelligence
undeserving of humanity
and my frail sanity
who could be listening in?
time to destroy the evidence and move on


to dream without a conscience
is for the weak and vulnerable
it gives them a chance to break free
from familiar prisons

Friday, May 10, 2013

Food Bank Skit

An elderly man walks into a food bank...

"Hey lady.  I'm looking for crackers."
"Is that someone's nickname?"
"Probably somewhere.  In this case no, lady.  Just old fashioned crackers."
"Well, you're in luck.  We have crackers."
"Good.  Is there a senior's discount?"
"Sir, everything here is free."
"Right....right.  Why do they call it a food bank anyways?  You ever been robbed?"
"No sir.  Everything here is free."
"OK.  I'll take everything.  Sorry.  That was a joke."
"So, you want crackers?  What kind?"
"Lady.  Look at me.  I'm a tired old man.  When I was a boy we had one kind of plain crackers and that was the end of it."
"Well, we have eight different kinds."
"Lady.  I don't think we're on the same page here.  Some days I don't know if I should go to the doctor or jump out a window.  I want plain crackers."
"Well, come have a look."
"I trust you lady.  Plain crackers."
"Well, we have different kinds of plain crackers."
"Lady, everyone I love is dead and everyone I hate is alive.  Work with me here.  Plain crackers."
"Well, here you go."
"Thank-you.  You know what I do with them?  I feed birds.  I sit on a bench in a park and feed birds and sometimes a squirrel.  That's my life and I'm pretty sure the birds don't care about name brands.  Oh, and the squirrel.  That greedy fucking squirrel.  He's a quick one.  Little bugger.  Do you know what that makes me? A typical old man with nothing better to do than stare at a lake and people walking by while I feed birds.  Oh, and that fucking squirrel.  So what I'm doing is basically just perpetuating a stereotype.  That's what my life has become."
"Uhhhhh......OK.  Anything else with that?"
"No.  I mean maybe.  I mean yes.  I need peanuts."
"What kind of peanuts?"
"Lady, are we seriously going to have this same conversation again?  I want PLAIN PEANUTS.  Not barbecue.  Not salted.  Not deep fried.  I don't care if God himself sneezed on them.  Plain goddamn peanuts."
"And you want them to feed the birds?"
"Yes, lady.  And sometimes I might even eat a few.  It doesn't matter.  What matters is that fucking squirrel that's stalking me."
"Sorry to hear that.  Here are your PLAIN peanuts.  Anything else?"
"Yeah.  One more thing.  Do you know where I can get a cheap gun around here?"
"No sir."
"OK.  Just remember my face.  Remember that I'm one of the good guys perpetuating stereotypes to contribute to the illusion of society so people like you can sleep better at night.  GODDAMMIT SOME DAYS I WANT TO EXPLODE.  Ah....fuck it.  I'll be dead soon. Goddamn squirrel.  We'll see who lives the longest.  I will eat that furry little fuck on my goddamn barbecue.  Do you know where I can buy poison around here?"
"No sir."
"OK.  You've been a big help.  See, NO.  These past few minutes have been very distressing to me.  I'm tired of being nice.  Is the squirrel being nice?  No. NO.  He's being greedy and selfish and rude and annoying and that's just me temporarily running out of adjectives.  Well, I'm off to the park.  Goodbye."
"Have a nice day sir."
"I doubt it.  I really doubt it."

Two teenagers at a bus stop...

"Which movie did your mom go see the other night?"
"That new Iron Man movie."
"No shit?  Your mom likes superhero movies?"
"Yeah.  She's seen pretty much all of them."
"I guess the only superhero my mom likes is Jesus."
"Is that a joke?"
"My mom was watching superhero movies before I was born back when my dad was jerking off in a welfare apartment.  She said that once at a dinner party after a few too many glasses of wine."

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Trevor - A Christmas Story

This was written around the millenium.  I thought I'd re-post it in all its absurd glory.

     It was Christmas eve and the church was buzzing with open heart surgery love. Jane March and her department store catalogue family were sitting in the front pew, blessed and fully dressed. The 8 o'clock service was about to begin, after all, and the people wanted servicing. Just as the minister approached his flock, a middle aged man named Trevor walked through the entrance. Trevor was well known to the church. He was mentally handicapped but served on just about every church comittee he could in hopes that he could one day play video games with God. Trevor was a bit of a lonely sort and his heart jumped when he saw Jane beckon him over to sit with her family who, incidentally, had never been scuba diving. As the service began, Jane introduced Trevor to her family as they took their seats. Jane and Trevor chatted during convenient pauses in the service, floating along on an ever expanding cloud of good cheer and an absence of reptiles. Suddenly, Trevor reached over and gently squeezed Jane's thigh. Jane felt confused for a moment but figured it was a gesture of holiday goodwill and the conversation continued. About thirty seconds later Jane noticed a certain look in Trevor's eyes that she couldn't quite place in her mind. It was then that Trevor leaned over with his tongue hanging out and gave Jane a sloppy kiss right on the lips, followed by a fart that reverberated proudly off the smooth wood where he sat. The minister took two steps to his right and smacked Trevor on the back of his head. Trevor jumped out of his seat and with one swift movement, knocked the minister flat on his back. He then jumped on top of Jane and started dry humping her with reckless abandon. Jane's family and the rest of the congregation watched in horror as Trevor unleashed years of sexual frustration on his helpless victim. If the truth be told, Jane's husband found some level of enjoyment at the proceedings even if he would never admit it. After what seemed like an unholy eternity, Jane's oldest son wrestled Trevor off his mother where he pinned him to the carpet in the aisle. Trevor began to wail like a newborn once he accepted defeat, soiling himself in the process. Jane sat with a blank stare in her eyes, rocking back and forth in shock. The minister rose to his feet and dragged Trevor out of the church and launched him headfirst into a snowbank, temporarily forgetting his Christ complex. Jane's family took her home and the service continued while Trevor unleashed a river of tears face down in the snow. After a few minutes he walked up the street and grabbed a porno mag and a cheeseburger and began to walk home, alive in a way that few could ever dare hope to comprehend.

Note: This story is not a slight to the mentally handicapped in any way. If this material offends you go watch Friends or something. Isn't everyone on that show handicapped? And people LOVE it.

I usually stay away from writing rhyming poems but this one based on a dream just kind of fell into place.

dream poem

I don't have God or the Devil
standing in my way
It seems I already know what people
are going to say
A part of me lost with a price
I can't afford to pay
as I try to honestly
greet another day
What could have been
is forever here to stay

random quote:

"I guess he marches to the beat of a different drummer."
"That's no excuse for being an asshole."

Saturday, July 07, 2012

The Phone Call - fiction

“You know what you did.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t play stupid.  You know what you did.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Wrong.  You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Actually, no.  I don’t.”
“You better watch your back.”
“This is getting a bit ridiculous.”
“No, it’s not.  You know what you did and you’re going to pay.”
“Can you be a bit more specific?  I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“You know exactly what this is about.”
“Actually no, I don’t.”
“You’re not making this easy for yourself Cindy.”
“Who’s Cindy?  My name is Sandra.”
“What?  You’re serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious.  My name is Sandra.”
“You sound just like Cindy.  Hmmmmm.  Well isn’t this a bit awkward.”
“Yes it is.”
“Well.  I must have the wrong number.”
“What did this Cindy person do to deserve these threats?”
“She dumped my friend in favor of his sister.”
“Ouch.  That hurts.  But seriously.  Wouldn't she recognize your voice?”
“Uhhhh....yeah.  This wasn't very well planned.  I’m actually not a bad guy.”
“May I remind you that you were threatening me?”
“I’m sorry about that.  You seem like a nice lady.  Do you have a man in your life?”
“Are you kidding?  After what you said to me?”
“I said I was sorry.”
“OK.  This has gone from ridiculous to strange to awkward and back to strange again.”
“You know what?  I agree with you.  I can’t believe I agreed to do this.  This is so typical of how my life has gone so horribly wrong.  I actually don’t blame his girlfriend for dumping him and choosing his sister.  She is HOT.  I’ve got a crush on her myself but she won’t even look at me because I live under the poverty line.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah.  I get really depressed sometimes.  I don’t know how it all went so wrong.”
“Well, I’m not a therapist.”
“Fair enough.  I’ve been drinking all day.  To be honest I can’t stop drinking.  I’m a mess.”
“OK.  Like I said though, I’m not a therapist.”
“Yeah.  I’m gonna hang up now before this conversation has a chance to reach epic proportions of awkwardness, which is an obvious pattern in my life.”
“OK.  Good luck with that.  I think.”

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Observing Observational Observations

I haven't posted anything in quite awhile. If this site were a living being it would be dying of neglect...this will be an ongoing post.

I don’t discriminate. I evaluate.

Get what you want. Take what you need.

Dear ________. You will no longer be taking up any space in my brain.

One of my favourite words is “Demolish”. It has such power and authority. It’s a shame it’s hardly ever used. You don’t just destroy a building, you DEMOLISH it. Like wiping it off the face of the earth. Awesome.

When it comes to life I'd say I'm a professional amateur.

We all know that Jean-Claude Van Damme is by no means a good actor. He's there for one purpose and that is to lay an on-screen beating which he does (or did) very well. It's not surprising that his star power faded long ago. In the movie Hard Target he plays a homeless man who looks like he just got his hair styled and walked out of a gym after a brutal workout, two things that destroy the credibility of his role as the above mentioned homeless man. The reason I share all this bullshit is to lead up to what might be the worst piece of dialogue in cinematic history. You have to see it and hear it to believe it but here it goes. A woman asks why people call him 'Chance'. He replies with his annoying accent and dead stare "Because my momma took one." And there you have it.

A friend was telling me about his grandfather's involvement in World War 2. They were in the trenches and some guy who went by the name 'Shakey' pulled the pin out of a grenade for no apparent reason. Everyone except his grandfather got the hell out of there. "Shakey, you put that goddamn pin back in the grenade." he said. Shakey looked confused but finally put the pin back in. While listening to this little story I couldn't help but wonder...why in the hell is a guy they called Shakey allowed anywhere near a grenade to begin with?

When siamese twins start throwing punches nobody really wins.

I get off on being nice to people. It's this problem I have.

Sometimes it feels better not to care. I'm slowly learning to choose my battles carefully.

There are times when I don't understand my face. I get as close to the mirror as possible and give my facial muscles a workout, trying to understand how they function. I wonder how the blood vessels beneath maintain themselves. I imagine the skull beneath the skin and the spongy material that makes up my brain as electrical impulses dance around madly while neurons fire on all cylinders.  Nature's imperfect engine.

I go over to a friend's place and knock on the side door without an answer. I go to the front door and knock again. His elderly father opens the door and says "If you knock any goddamn louder you're gonna break my goddamn door." Knowing that I knocked politely on the door I almost burst out laughing at the impossibility of the situation. This is a man who fathered six children, my friend being the youngest and whenever I've dealt with him he's been a bitter asshole. I have no clue how he could have raised six kids. Recently he ended up in a nursing home and in the first week he called one person a "blockhead German" and accused another of being a draft dodger. Maybe somebody will put him out of his misery before he dies of old age. Not that I would wish that on anyone but maybe that's his intention. End of the line.

A friend of a friend got fired from a fast food restaurant for not cutting the pickles properly.

I don't neccesarily buy into the 'addictive personality' trait. I don't deny that there could be some genetic component but I just don't think that alcoholism or drug addiction is a 'disease'. You don't choose to have a disease. You choose to open a bottle or get high. If anything it's more of a lifestyle. Certain people are just not able or do not want to live a life acceptable by societies standards and turn to alcohol and/or drugs to fill the void. They don't have what it takes to create their own happiness and don't see a way out without the comforts of temporary oblivion. Alcoholism and drug addiction obviously cross all income brackets but I'm not trying to write an essay here. Bottom line: Taking the hardened edge off of reality.

A few random questions:

-Do you think many psychiatrists secretly enjoy listening to their patients on a purely entertainment level?
-Do you have a hard time looking certain people in the eye? Do you wonder if this is somehow related to forgotten childhood experiences?
-Do you ever feel like your facial expressions and body language might reveal much more than you want them to?
-Are you aware of your capacity to incite violence in somebody else?

The biggest bullshit cliche of all time has to be "Live every day like it's your last." It's impossibe to understand that kind of mindset unless you really DO have one day to live. Otherwise, no. You are NOT in any way shape or form living every day like it's your last. Even if you could, it sounds exhausting.

There's a new show called "My Strange Obsession" that documents a woman's addiction to drinking gasoline. Yes, you read that correctly. I've heard of huffing gas but drinking it? How do you get started on something like that? You're at a party and the booze runs out so you decide to siphon the gas tank? Wow. She says that she knows it's killing her but she can't stop. Wow again. I assume she's not a smoker.

If people actually laughed out loud every time they typed 'lol' there would be a hell of a lot more laughter happening.

What's all this nonsense about being "a member of the community"? Oh, I get it. It's a money thing. Yawn.

Sunday, September 04, 2011

Cheap Laugh

Been going through some serious writer's block so here's the deal. I've been writing down the funniest or strangest headlines on Yahoo News for about a year. "Ordinary Madness" as Bukowski would have called it. It should be noted that this is the only post that is not original material. It will be an ongoing post. Hope you get a cheap laugh. I know I did.

-Canadian teen cleared for killing a man he believed was a zombie.
-Man cuts off and steals woman's hair at a bus stop.
-Ohio woman sprays Police with breast milk during dispute.
-Man arrested after trying to set up a home nuclear reactor.
-Three year old is Britain's youngest ever alcoholic.
-Jealous husband hits wife with pet poodle killing the dog.
-Mother happy that ten year old daughter gave birth.
-Woman calls police to warn that her cat is about to explode.
-Child calls 911 line 400 times over Thanksgiving weekend.
-Teacher finds crack cocaine in three year old's shoe.
-Brazil mom finds toddler petting alligator after flood.
-An Oregon man changes his name to Captain Awesome.
-British Army defuses beer keg bomb outside courthouse.
-US man shoots TV with shotgun over Bristol Palin dance.
-Australian thieves steal 21 tonnes of ketchup and mustard.
-Med students surprised that their first autopsy is on their dead teacher.
-US teen's murder defense: I am a vampire and a werewolf.
-Math teacher in France in serious condition after setting herself on fire in schoolyard.
-Pooping plastic dog tops must-have Christmas toy list.
-Electric toothbrushes recalled in Canada after some 'exploded'.
-US mom shoots kids in welfare office over food stamps.
-93 year old Toronto woman arrested for weapons possession.
-People across Canada want to adopt Alberta dog that killed newborn.
-Human waste is slowly destroying India's railway system.
-Boy finds live grenade during Easter egg hunt in England.

a few observations...

I'm watching this TV commercial about investment banking and at the end of the commercial they show the company's logo and you see a hand placing reading glasses over the logo. So I ask, what does poor eyesight have to do with investing?

Picking my nails is just absolutely fantastic fun. It gives me a sense of accomplishment. I've really perfected my style. If there's any blood that's just the bonus round.

I don't lie but some people misunderstand my strange truths.

Sometimes I'm too lazy to find myself. I don't mind being somebody else.

I ate an apple the other day and it had no taste. I have a sneaking suspicion that somebody has invented the tofu apple.

So I'm watching The Weather Network and they show some footage of babies in their strollers all dressed up for Halloween. The 'Weather Lady' then says "Those babies are so cute I want to just grab them and shake them." Uhhhh.....Is it just me or isn't that the leading cause of infant fatalities? I wonder if her boss noticed that. KEEP THIS WOMAN AWAY FROM BABIES.

Some people find religion at the ass end of hell. Funny how that works.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

the interpretation of a dream

On a path of accidental righteousness...holding my gravity towards a future consuming itself...stuck in a feedback loop draining energy out of a flawed structure processing useless information in the used to hold truth...trying to build a mythology based on abstract symbolism...putting my true self on display while at odds with the consequences of honesty...distorted pictures of distant places...the consensus of my being...taking hold of the moment while also spending time with old memories...slowly putting the puzzle together even if the outcome is unknown...what's the breaking point on this? things fell apart just before the climax...trying to decipher potential enemies while in a deep state of illusion of safety penetrated at will by strangers...digesting some misery but keeping the spirit intact...too many emotional decisions and not enough logical decisions...trying to find the kind despite your primitive instincts...a new way of interpreting thought...trying to find something quiet and strong that might last long....warning...false starts and misunderstandings are frequent...abort