Colony of Losers

Colony of Losers
Halifax, Canada
December 31
Colony of Losers
Check out my blog on
Michael Gray Kimber is a 26 year old writer from Halifax, Nova Scotia born slightly after the ides of March. Since the age of six when he realized his career in professional modeling was going nowhere he has wanted to be a writer. At the age of 10 years old he wrote his first book “A Game’s Master Games”. It was a derivative of Mortal Kombat and if published would have resulted in a rather lengthy lawsuit which would most likely have ruined his middle class family. Much has changed since then. His brother became a rapper known as Josh Martinez. His father Stephen Kimber began known for punching idiots in the face with his oh so powerful words. Graduated from King’s College with a degree in English as well as a degree in Journalism he finds himself on the hunt for actual employment. Launching his blog Colony of Losers he hopes to get attention for his finished novel For Four, encourage magazines to give him freelance work and find an employer who will make all his dreams come true. During this struggle to become an adult he came to grips with an anxiety disorder that would see him lose the ability to sleep and go to war with himself. He went looking for a cure, trying every solution suggested by the internet, from self help groups to medication, to hot yoga where beautiful women farted in his face to meditation sessions with madmen. Nothing was too ridiculous in the hopes that he could make it all stop. The Cure is his story, as friends and family made him realize that their wasn't a cure, there was simply learning how to live with it. 1 in 5 deal with mental illness. The system is not equipped to deal with them. The stigma of mental illness is keeping us from recognizing the crisis that is facing his generation. The ridiculous and offensive honesty of this story is meant to give a human face to what we would all prefer to look away from. Read his series in its entirety at While this begins with his story it will soon move onto his talented friends, inspiring strangers and absolute nutjobs he meets along the way. To get in contact with Michael please email him at PS my avatar is made by the amazingly talented Peter Diamonds who is the chief illustrator in the series.


Colony of Losers's Links
JUNE 1, 2011 6:25PM

Hipster Wars :The Cupcakes of Wrath

Rate: 0 Flag

Just Desserts 

You are probably wondering why the hell you should care that I’m eating a cupcake?

Have I gone the way of millions of bloggers before me and begun to document every moment in my life in twitpics for the purpose of getting some sponsorship money?


Welcome to my story of tasty cupcakes and just desserts.

I was walking past the House of Lancaster, our local strip club, reading Mantel’s Wolf Hall on the way home from a delicious dinner of soft tacos and enchiladas from El Asador.

I stop reading for the span of 20 paces and let the book fall to my side.

There is a house at the end of my block inhabited by trendy anti-literacy hipsters. Some look like they bought brand name clothing out of a trash bin and others embody those jeans you buy with paint on them.  They don’t like that I read when I walk and I don’t like them. This isn’t new.

In high school people would be so enraged by my habit of walking and reading they would often yell, “faggot” from speeding vehicles to break my concentration. Years have past and they’ve been replaced by a bunch of thugs in leopard print short shorts with unique haircuts but the principle remains the same. They don’t read, have had a few drinks and want to involve me in their lives.  A few days ago they spotted me walking and reading and showed their willingness to drag me into their lives.

“Look at this fucking guy. He loves reading.”

“I do.”

“Walking and reading in the dark. Must be a good book.”

“I like it.”

“What’s it about?”

You’d probably expect me to say something witty.

I paused. Trying to think of what I should say. Feck.

I continue walking unable to think of anything clever to say.

About twelve seconds down the street I think to myself that I could have lectured them about the importance of literacy or possibly told them the book was about how I fucked their mother and how our children survived despite fetal alcohol syndrome. But I just kept walking.  Left with my options, unable to turn back, feeling like George Constanza, muttering,”The jerk store was all out of you.”

This time I’ll just hold the book and keep walking.

Nothing will be gained by getting into a confrontation. There is some sort of cigarette and colt 45 conference taking place on dirty couches placed on their front porch. I make it past their front step without comment.

“Is that the bible?” asks a girl with a lip ring, dirty hair and the beauty of a hobo pageant winner.  The sort of girl, who speaks French, knows how to use an squigee and might be good at French kissing. Most of the girls and boys look somewhat the same. Somewhat stylist clothing accented by dirt.

Keep walking.

“Hey you….is that the bible?”

“No, it’s called Wolf Hall. Pretty good.”

It’s about Thomas Cromwell and the part he played in the English Reformation. I don’t need to explain it. I’ll just keep walking and go home and finish my book.

“Come up and read us some of that bible,” she says.

A dude with skinny arms and a Mohawk decides to chirp in. “There is a cupcake in it for you.”

I turn around and walk up the stairs.  The deck gives me a big cheer.

“Now you promised him the cupcake. Fuck, dude. That was my cupcake.”

“Where is ma fucking cupcake?” I say in a gruff Nova Scotian accent.

They guffaw en masse.I have agreed to be their source of fun on a boring Sunday evening.

He opens up a small cardboard box and presents a tasty morsel in rewards for my efforts to be their favorite monkey.

“Sounds Scottish.”

“Read it with an accent.”

“A British accent.”

“Read us the bible, man,” says the girl with the lip ring who originally accosted me. I noticed the dude next to me has a ginger colored Afro.

You asked for it.  I open Wolf Hall and pretend to be reading it.

“Thou hath found yourself in hell on earth.”

“What?” asks Ginger Afro.

“Silence,” I say to him.  “Speak no more fool. I’m reading the good word so shut your trap.”

Everyone laughs. I have them.

“In dark times when the economy was bad and boys and girls sat outside and drank coronas across the street from a strip club they had little knowledge that their souls would be used to fuel the fires of hell. That across the street their mothers were showing their tits so that their children wouldn’t have to recycle their beer bottles to get funds or booze or even contemplate getting jobs. ”

Big laughs.

“There were boys and girls with souls made of tight jeans and their parent’s credit cards. They had a surplus of Leopard pants and unique haircuts.”

“You sound like a pirate.”

“And they interrupted when they asked the handsome literate man to read to them even though he held them in great contempt.  When the apocalypse came God ignored them, believing their souls useless and their cupcakes delicious. So now the man of the book left and finished his fucking cupcake. Have a great evening and give me ma fucking cupcake”

My trophy is handed to me.

I walk off the porch to their cheers and entreaties to come back and be their friend. Instead I continued walking.

“I already miss you,” Ginger Afro.

I went home and ate my just dessert as I finished posting this blog.

One point for literacy and bonus points for cupcake eating.

The cupcake tastes gross. Feck.

Your tags:


Enter the amount, and click "Tip" to submit!
Recipient's email address:
Personal message (optional):

Your email address:


Type your comment below: