In honour of the Samwell men’s hockey team making the 2015 playoffs the school cafeteria special is “poutine”, with sweet potato fries, grated cheddar cheese, and lumpy beef gravy.  Jack has to take a serving and pose with it for the student newspaper, but then he goes to the team table and stares at it mournfully because it’s not worth even breaking his diet over.

“They’re honouring your culture, brah!” Shitty says enthusiastically.

“They tried,” Jack whispers, picking a fry up with his fork and letting it fall back down again.  “They failed.”

September is the most beguiling of the months. It is the month that won’t let go of summer, and it is the month that calls from the crow’s nest of the year and announces, in thinning air, that summer is gone and autumn is already here. One day in September will lull you into believing that you should assemble your things and mount a picnic on a Saturday afternoon—September is made for Saturdays. But when Saturday comes, you spend the morning fumbling around in the attic, looking for sweaters, because it is raining and cold. You look at the picnic supplies you gathered and wonder how you could have been so misguided.

September is a month for plans and a month for no plans. The month of full shelves and empty fields. A time for leave-taking and taking stock. It is the end of summer and the beginning of all that is to come.

—  Stuart McLean, from the Vinyl Café story School Days
  • Almost
  • Sarah Harmer
  • All of Our Names

Almost by Sarah Harmer from All of Our Names

‘Cause I’ve been under the paper
you were writin’ on 
You left your impression on after you’d gone
marks only I can see

And if I am a sailor
You are the warm gulf wind
And you’ve blow into this little port
And roused my dreams again.
When we say sometime later
You know that we don’t say when
You have blown into this little port
And roused my dreams again.


For Queer Women of Color Everywhere, this is the film that the internet not only needs, but deserves.