Interviewed By Kagan Goh

Book Launch Q&A — Three Questions for the Poet

Nate Nate Nainers (they/she) is an award-winning storyteller, poet, and performance artist based on the unceded territories of the Kwikwetlem and Stó:lō First Nations (Port Coquitlam, BC). Their second book, Smokin’ Holy Spirts (Galleon Books) explores the fall-out of leaving the evangelical church in six simple steps to quit smoking. They are proudly schizoaffective, bisexual, and claim the gender designation of Gorgeous.

Kagan Goh is an award-winning filmmaker, published author, spoken word poet, playwright, actor, mental health advocate, and activist. After reading a copy of Smokin’ Holy Spirits by Nate Nate Nainers, Goh interviewed Nainers about their work.

GENDER IDENTITY

KG: Poems like “clothing swap philosopher” and “monday funday” sit right next to years spent inside evangelical church spaces. As a trans-femme poet, how has claiming your gender identity changed not just what you write about, but the way language itself moves on the page — the rhythm, the line breaks, the voice?

NNN: The construction of my poems’ form is intuitive. In fact, most of my work is intuitive. When and where I place the words on the page - how I split stanzas or separate a phrase - is part of the way-finding on the first draft. I slip through a landscape (interior and exterior) to discover what is hidden from myself when I’m not slipping through landscapes that much. Breaking up the lines or adopting a character’s voice slips me into a flow state where I begin to play.

Allowing myself to play with a poem - its structure, rhythm, and especially voice - oscillating between disruption and coherence - feels like a form of mysticism in that I forget myself. Or, I forget what I’m supposed to say - how a poet “ought to speak” - I forget about Big “L” Literature - I hear myself speaking from a deeper place - authentically and safely unmasked. It’s a mysticism that’s ok with jean shorts and hot dogs, and has deep reservations about using the word “mysticism” in the first place. A poem is many things. It’s a clever observation, witty word play, and a naked prayer to a god unknown.

Unmasking with playfulness, forgetting myself, is a lesson I continually learn as someone with the gender designation as Gorgeous - or trans-femme or gender fluid if that helps. I reached for my first dress as an adult because the closer my hand was, the more I felt like sunshine. And I allowed myself to pursue that sunshine because I was deconstructing what I should wear based on my genitals. I was forgetting myself, or who I thought I was, in order to find myself on a more authentic plane. I feel that same sunshine when I bounce the rhythm around, carve the stanzas, and speak as “The Noodler.” Doing all that draws me into a deeper sense of being a poet.

MENTORSHIP

KG: You spent 2024 mentored under Kevin Spenst, to whom this book is partly dedicated. What did that year crack open in you as a writer, and is there a specific note or nudge from Kevin that still shows up when you’re revising a poem or standing on a stage?

NNN: Kevin is full of lessons, the first of which was “this is not a year of therapy.”

I’ll be honest, therapy is expensive and poems are cheap! I understand why so many of us are foraging for affordable relief and release from life’s little shop of horrors. But, at the end of the day, as cathartic as screaming tirades may be, the audience is looking to us for affordable relief and release. And it doesn’t all have to be soul-baring. Or, the part of your soul you bare can be a silly side, and by owning it - “I AM SPARTACUS” with a sea of red noses and rainbow wigs - the audience can move through whatever they needed to in that moment. An audience needs to see their eccentricities represented as well.

Another of Kevin’s lessons I love sitting with is: “ambiguity is a good thing.”

This is a beautifully generous philosophy because when a poem is ambiguous it’s more open to interpretation - which I’d argue is a more democratic poetic. That openness creates questions, which creates a more vibrant conversation. The poet doesn’t need to be in the middle of that conversation. In fact, it’s best if they just duck out after dropping the mic because their input can turn the conversation into a binary - do we agree or disagree with the poet’s actions and statements? You a good guy or a bad guy? You a cool guy or a weird guy?? What a waste of time!

An indecipherable metaphor serves the audience in that you will see in it what you need to see in it. Maybe it’s all pareidolia. The clouds dance in the sky for their own reasons, and in them we see “we need to be easier on ourselves,” or “we can be more proactive about the recycling bags.” Maybe, in some poems, we’ll never share what we saw in the clouds. But when we do share it will feel more vulnerable and intimate. It will feel special. What a gift it is to keep your mouth shut and let people draw their own conclusions!

Thank you, Kevin, for teaching me to shut up!

HUMOUR, ABSURDITY & DADA

KG: Your poems collide Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with a narcotics officer, the fall of Troy with an IKEA showroom, the Wu-Tang Clan with a war memorial. Where does that appetite for collision come from — and what is humour, absurdity, and a Dada-like willingness to smash things together doing in these poems that grief or anger alone couldn’t do?

NNN: Well, that narcotics officer referenced Charlie and the Chocolate Factory when he chewed us out. When Troy was in theatres some customers talked about it in an IKEA showroom. A group of men did play Wu-Tang Clan at the Maple Ridge War Memorial (you’d be surprised how frequently that happens).

Absurdity surrounds us and penetrates us; it binds the galaxy together.

That said, yes, a lot of my works’ bizarre imagery and comedic positioning occurred strictly in my brain.

For me, everything is in conversation with everything. It’s all talking, listening, and responding to itself. Both the imagined and the physical. As an artist, I record what snippets of those conversations I can glean. When I fold those snippets into poems - not just as prompts, but as part of the poem’s humour and logic - I feel like I’m talking with the day. Catching up, in a way. I cheekily refer to this process as Plein-Poetoire - inspired by the plein-air paintings of my friend, Siggi Sigmond. Painting a scene of the natural setting you’re sitting in, and not leaving ‘til it’s done!

Many of the poems in my book were written this way (though I did edit them after leaving the scene). I’d hike up a mountain, or sit in a park, and record whatever notable thing grabs my attention. After some time, the spirit moves me to write a poem about the scene. Granted, my poems take some fantastical and comedic liberties with my surroundings, but the bizarre images and characters are what came up for me as I wrote what I witnessed at the Coquitlam River, the Maple Ridge War Memorial, or on the High Knoll of Minnekhada Park - the sensorial peculiarities triggered memories and imaginative journeys alike.

Sounds cool, but I feel like I’m catching up with the day. Perhaps my life. The park tells me something I needed to hear and engage with - I’m still not sure if the setting and I wrote the poem or if it was just the park.

That said, there are definitely a few poems that were written somewhere else!

A&W bears in leather, god as a pigeon with a missing toe, and the blonde dread-locked crotch of a supposed yogi that is life - it may be absurd, but it’s still poetry! The positioning of this stranj imagery with heavier subject matter such as internalized homophobia, cults, and psychosis, I don’t see it as “smashing things together.” I see myself as letting all of the day’s notables bubble up to talk it out until the poem is calm enough for reflection. Kind of like how people around a campfire at first carry a chaotic energy - they crack jokes, tell crazy stories, or rave and rant, even rage until a comfortable silence falls - then they get to know each other; ask deeper questions, share their truth, speak their dreams. Others might edit out the chattiness and zaniness and just stick to the deep reflection bits. Sometimes I do that. But I think there’s great opportunity for insight at all stages of the campfire.

Ultimately, moving through the grief and anger I held onto as an ex-vangelical human wasn’t necessarily from saying anything in particular, but by sitting with what I felt until I felt it was time to write. Then sitting with what I wrote and allowing it to speak with everything else. Sitting in silence until you’re moved to speak, if at all, is a lesson the Quakers taught me, which is easier said than done. But that’s how they worship - sitting in silence together. And in that sense, these poems were written in worship as well. Giving thanks to the Creator for the lessons of chocolate factories, the beauty of the Wu-Tang Clan, the truth of an IKEA showroom.

to be continued…

Smokin’ Holy Spirits Book Launch is just around the corner!!

September 13, Sunday, 1-4pm, @ Enabling Arts, Vancouver

30 mins theatrical reading

20 min Q&A moderated by Franz

Featuring RC Weslowski

You can buy tix here!

What’s this, there’s more!!

Smokin’ Holy Spirits Book Launch Tri-Cities!!

September 29, Tuesday, 7-9pm @ Western Sky Books, Port Coquitlam

30 mins theatrical reading

20 min Q&A moderated by Tamara Gorin

Nainers visual art is on display at Western Sky Books and is also for sale (more on that later!)

“What should I do?” I asked.

“Oh stop milking it and just post some weird shit!”

I won’t say much more than that other than the script was an exhaustive list of antiquated words from the King James Version of the Bible.

Enjoy!

Nainers

Preorder My Book Here

TIPS

Preorder My Book Here

TIPS

Come celebrate Nate Nate Nainers’ newest (and wildest) poetry book, Smokin’ Holy Spirits!

Opening set with RC Weslowski
30 min reading by Nate Nate Nainers
30 min Q&A moderated by Franz

Sunday, September 13
Doors at 1:00pm, Show at 1:30pm, Close at 4:00pm
Enabling Arts
Unit 104, 343 Railway Street, Vancouver, BC
By Donation/NOTAFLOF
Books for sale w/ autograph: $20 each
Drinks and NA for sale

TIX HERE

About Smokin’ Holy Spirits:

A multi-dimensional clown has popped the evangelical bubble she was indoctrinated in. By subverting the art of prophecy with profanity, transgressions, and crazy-talk, this clown takes us on a wild and careening ride through the fall-out of leaving the church in six simple steps to quit smoking. With each step, she moves closer to a generational redemption arc, making peace with demons and angels alike. She is Nainers as much as she’s not Nainers, and when she says she’s Nainers, she’s not at all.

Proudly working-class (though mildly educated), neurodivergent (though heavily medicated), gay as fuck (though actually bisexual), and a bastion of all things weird and stranj (though pretty serious, ok?); smokin’ holy spirits is Canada’s favourite sacrilegious pastime.

TIX HERE

Blurbs for Smokin’ Holy Spirits:

“A shootin’ the shit poetics that falls into a free-wheeling polyphonic journey with counter-culture undertones and feel good overtones” - Kevin Spenst

“Nainers’ book walks a tightrope between the twin peaks of nonsense and deep meaning with a wild bull ride that dares us to hang on for sweet joy with an open heart and good lingerie” - RC Weslowski

About the Author:

Nate Nate Nainers is an award-winning poet, storyteller, and performance artist living on the unceded territories of the Kwikwetlem and Sto:Lo First Nations, (PoCo, BC).

Their first book, “It’s Gonna Be Sick As Hell!” (Wharfingers Press) came out in 2022. In 2024 they placed 3rd at the Vancouver Story Slam Championship at the Vogue Theatre. In 2025, they wrote and produced two 40 minute solo shows with music and aspects of clown; “Berry Stained Teeth,” and “Jerald the Space Bear” which was performed at North Vancouver’s Arts in the Garden. In 2026 they were also a featured artist at Galiano Literary Festival.

They have been a board member for SAD Magazine, as well as a co-producer for Parade of Lost Souls, and founded the street performance group, Wizard Walks, as well as Whoa Whoa Hey Now Cabaret, and the League of Fuddy Duddies with Silly Hats.

TIX HERE

When I was ten, uncle Malcolm sailed over from Nanaimo to visit family on the main land. On a summer’s walk with him along the Burrard Inlet, I was fascinated by this strikingly dependable man who embodied all things decent, sensible, and kind.

Grandpa George passed away before I was born, and Grandpa Bill passed away when I was in kindergarten, so I felt a loneliness for a grandpa; an elderly man of the Lord who could guide me in growing up. After a chat with my parents and my grandma Kay, I wrote Malcolm a request for his grandpaship.

He agreed!

We wrote letters throughout the year. I visited him and his family in Nanaimo, going for long hikes (even in his 70’s), up and down Nanaimo’s river - fostering convictions towards a christian socialism, and asking me lots of questions about what I want to be when I grow up (which frenetically changed day by day). And, of course, we’d have SPAM for lunch every day.

After graduating from Maple Ridge Christian School, grandpa Malcolm sailed over to let me know I could do anything I put my mind to, and gifted me a leather bound NIV bible to ensure my decisions were biblically sound.

As you know, my dedication to the church did not survive my twenties.

Leaving evangelicalism can be one of the most liberating experiences, and at the same time, it can be wrought with debilitating shame, guilt, and isolation. Though nothing was said by grandpa Malcolm, I could not bring myself to confess my defections from christ. Over the years, I would see him at family gatherings, and he’d remind me to love heterosexual Jesus and unionize the work place, and I’d pretend I wasn’t recently at a gay bar manically burning off midnight steam from a lifetime of indoctrination.

That’s to say, we grew apart and never reconnected. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only person I lost when I disavowed christ.

Grandpa Malcolm didn’t survive the pandemic, which left a grandpa sized hole I didn’t anticipate, despite the unsurmountable differences in faith.

I wrote a eulogy for his online funeral, remembering the good times and the good lessons.

Years later I wrote this poem.

Big Love,

Nainers

Preorder My Book Here

TIPS

I read a couple of my poems, “YELL AT ME PLEASE” and “SPAM” (wow, so many capitals, cool it, Nainers) from my upcoming book, Smokin’ Holy Spirits (Galleon Books).

I shared about my writing process - multi-dimensionality and clown - as well as the tight-knit musicality of my poetry.

It was a blast, and I’m deeply grateful to RC and Kevin.

(I may have been naughty with my F-bombs on radio broadcast (prepare for audio scratch outs!)

Big Love,

Nainers

Preorder My Book Here

TIPS

put art on public wall and everyone will love me, got it

Not quite.

I was caught up by the immediacy of this art form. Not so much the tags, but more the characters and poems, and the political edge of it all. No one was asking permission to do graffiti. The illegality of it only heightened the awareness of the act, not the compulsion of it. Unlike traditional or social media, the message didn’t have to skirt around algorithms or industry gate keepers.

I’m not much of a painter - didn’t want to stain my precious Sally Ann finds - but I had a roommate who got me into the art of collage. Unlike art classes in high school, we weren’t randomly throwing magazine scraps together then tripping out on its subconscious conversations. Rather, we were carefully and tenderly slipping images out of National Geographics and tucking them inside abandoned issues of the Economist, GQ, and Anal Mayhem - crafting conversations between crass and degrading consumerism with the resilience of the human spirit. THEN we’d trip out over what each other made.

then what, gramma nainers??

Well my chick-a-dees, gramma would make herself a whole pot of wheat-paste then spread those conversations around town.

1 part bleached flour

4 parts water

3 tablespoons of processed sugar

and then you became famous and kissed banksy on the mouth??

No, something even better happened. No one recognized my art, and the people I told about it didn’t really care. Actually, the people I told reminded me that half the fun of graffiti is to be anonymous (for me that’s impossible). But, the commercial failure of drunkenly pasting edgy collage art around the city brought me into a better place.

I remember sitting down one day and having a think.

When am I an artist?

When I gain the respect of my peers?

The respect of the organizations?

The publishing houses?

The award committees?

The academy?

Of God?

Of the cosmos?

The further I dug into that question, I realized that what really made myself an artist wasn’t so much the validation from others, but the self-knowledge that I spoke from an authentic place in a creative way. I wasn’t chasing after trends or the hottest take. In those midnight strolls, slathering lamp posts, I spoke into a void where my message was fleeting due to weather, sanitation engineers, angry parents, and other artists. What do you say when your words will be lost?

It’s a question older than Ozymandias, yet I can get so caught up in the whole “look upon my works ye mighty and despair.” Day after day, watching my carefully crafted collages get scraped off, washed out, torn apart, or pasted over… you can only flex so much before a dreaded sense of nihilism looms over head.

My work had a biting cynicism with a dark sense of humour, until I posted one on an abandoned telephone booth: a wood elf thinking inside the word “journey” like it was a little boat. The next day, all the graffiti on that booth was scraped off, except the wood elf in his boat. You best believe I felt quite proud of that. Then, the next day, he was gone, too.

An analytical mind would say I got amazing feedback on which work has broader appeal. But, I see it more as the void of the general public absent mindedly bumbling throughout the day, took notice and spoke back because I had something to say.

I take that lesson with me whenever I sit down to create.

I’ve written and published two books now. They’re both crazy guys ho-ho, but I wrote them in the same spirit. My upcoming poetry collection, Smokin’ Holy Spirits, may be wild and careening, diving into heavy subjects such as religious trauma. But, as weird as those poems are, I wrote them in the same spirit as when I crafted that little wood elf in his journey boat. Speaking with love and intention, as I did with the collages I share here.

So what’s all these pictures then?

After a couple years of doing that, a friend convinced me to scan at least some of my collages. I may have taken the whole impermanence aspect of wheat-pasting too religiously, so I actually only have these select photos as documentation of my graffiti life.

Legend says I collaged a 18”x24” piece with a lady riding a golden lab that shot lasers out of its eyes, and left that collage in a bag with a card by a dumpster at Falconetti’s Bar & Grill.

But that’s for another time.

Big Love,

Nainers

Preorder My Book Here

TIPS

Smokin' Holy Spirits is LIVE to pre-order through this link!

About the book:

"A multi-dimensional clown has popped the evangelical bubble she was indoctrinated in. By subverting the art of prophecy with profanity, transgressions, and crazy-talk, this clown takes us on a wild and careening ride through the fall-out of leaving the church in six simple steps to quit smoking. With each step, she moves closer to a generational redemption arc, making peace with demons and angels alike. She is Nainers as much as she’s not Nainers, and when she says she’s Nainers, she’s not at all.

Proudly working-class (though mildly educated), neurodivergent (though heavily medicated), gay as fuck (though actually bisexual), and a bastion of all things weird and stranj (though pretty serious, ok?); Smokin’ Holy Spirits is Canada’s favourite sacrilegious pastime."

“A shootin’ the shit poetics that falls into a free-wheeling polyphonic journey with counter-culture undertones and feel good overtones.” – Kevin Spenst

This book was years in the making, sweating, stretching, and blissing out over and over again. It started with a wild adventure of re-visiting churches while wearing a dress: Project Little Miss Redemption Arc.

That project brought up a lot for me. Not everyone was so enthusiastic with my attendance, even at so-called affirming churches. But I met so many beautiful people along the way who offered to sit down for interviews and share their journeys, which inspired me to share my journey, too.

PREORDER HERE

This book is quite surreal and deeply non-linear. This is not a memoir. Do not expect “and one time, at bible camp.” It’s poetry! Beautiful, stranj, poetry! But there is a lot of me in here, as well as others I have had the pleasure and displeasure to meet. This isn’t trauma porn, or a cancel manuscript. This is, through the vantage point of a multi-dimensional clown, stories so many of us have lived.

Writing this book brought me to a better place. I hope reading it does the same for you.

Immeasurable thanks to Kevin Spenst for their guidance on this journey!

Deep gratitudes to Lee from Galleon Books for taking on this craaaaaaazy book!

Endless appreciation for Charlie Rae Walker’s beautiful illustration!

And tremendous love and affection toward Deirdre for listening to every single poem in this collection mere hours after writing them, sometimes minutes.

More blurbs to come as the review prints come through the mail!

Big Love, and KISSES
MUAH!

PREORDER HERE

After some careful planning and consideration, I’m happy to announce that I’m taking star channels to a full-time venture!

If you missed the first one, star channels are long-form improvised sets with myself and my dog, Star-Bar Mr. Baby-Man, my furry little guy.

After crunching the data, star channel i was by far my most popular post, and the surveys show that 237 people actually listened to that song with their dog!

So, you guessed it, we’re pivoting into pet entertainment!!

Granted, the ambient dog industry is quite niche, but it’s actually worth thousands of dollars.

By 2037 we’re going to be a household name!

So, with no further ado, Mr. Baby and I share with you star channel ii.

May the good times roll!

Gratuities & Support

If you’re feeling supportive and generous towards an independent artist, but want to keep your commitment minimal, consider gifting me a one-time tip of your choosing in my Tip Jar!

And if you want to be a hero, you can become a paid subscriber! It helps me balance my day-job with sharing my passion to readers like you!

Tips

Big Love,

Nainers

book recommendation

The Book of Frank, by CAConrad

“Surreal, absurd, poignant. It came like a hurricane. A tragic song, but not without humour. Became an instant fan.” - Mr. Baby, my furry little guy

As a fan of clown (and a bit of a clown myself), I had to see this edgier, darker, and grittier side of this wildly unpredictable and playful art form Costa has steeped herself in. For those with a palette open to hard and cathartic laughs, this show served act after act that, in Baba Bibiji’s words, “loosened up our tightly wound root chakras.”

The acts were hot, fresh, and brilliantly talented - laden with staunch raunch about all kinds of gonch. The crowd whistled and balled with laughter as gutter clowns cruised the audience for dates, coughed up blood, gave birth to god-knows-what, and humped walls and each other with rather suggestive explosions of confetti.

After a cold shower and some power yoga, I reached out to Priscilla Costa herself to add a little context.

Nainers: What do you think gutter clown is tapping into?

Priscilla Costa: Adults craving comedic entertainment that is colourful, has variety, breaks the 4th wall and is fully embodied.

Nainers: “Edgy” seemed to be the word of the night. How far can people go?

Costa: As far as it stays playful, aware, and engaged with the audience.

Nainers: Whose root chakras are you trying to unwind?

Costa: Everyones! Anyone carrying shame, tension or a sense that they’re “too much.”

Nainers: Is this show just for laughs, or do you see it as a social good as well?

Costa: Laughter first, but collective release and witnessing, is a cathartic and powerful medicine.

Though there were many spectacles, there were many moments of vulnerable character exploration, and interrogations of concepts which pushed them and us to the edge. Each artist welcomed us into their carefully crafted world for us to be immersed in, leaving us wanting to stay a little longer.

We explored motherhood, gender, climate change, religion, and so many other pertinent themes we’re collectively grappling with. When I left the show, I felt my weird-patch was scratched, but I felt my concerns were spoken to as well.

If Carl Jung attended, he would say the evening was full of bizarre fertility rituals, absurd rebirth cycles, and exorcisms of latent inner-demons. But if he were to have a beer or two, he’d say it was a fuckin’ first-rate trip through brilliantly raw and bravely honest explorations of what we try to suppress - a consummate mind-fuck that had ol’ Carl begging for another romp.

Speaking of which, the next one is just around the corner!

BUY TIX HERE

Promo Code: BUTTS

20% off

Valid until April 1st only

Priscilla Costa has curated a new Vancouver gem; a space for audiences and performers alike to face both the unreal and too real with humour as our guide.

Big Love,

Nainers

Photography by Joshua Wright

Click on any of the underlined names to go to each artist’s website or instagram!

BUY TIX HERE

BUY TIX HERE

BUY TIX HERE

BUY TIX HERE

BUY TIX HERE

could you use a review!?

Nate Nate Nainers is your ma’am!

I only write about things I like, so if you’re trying to promote something artistic, musical, or literary, and it’s pushing back on the fascist hellscape we are experiencing, send me an invite to my email at nnnainers@gmail.com!

The other day I bonked my head with a music stand. It wasn’t a gash or anything, but D convinced me to get it checked out at urgent care.

The doctor wasn’t that concerned, told me the cut was too shallow for even some glue, but she told me, “Nainers,” she said. “Nainers!” she cried. “If you think this lil’ bonk means you get out of work…

You’re absolutely right! Please, for the love of God and all that is holy, get yourself down to JJ Bean, get one of those warm chewy chocolate chip zucchini muffins (yum yum yum). Gobble it up good. Don’t let a crumb of walnut escape your sticky lips! And please, Nainers. PLEASE. Drink much too much coffee. Drain them dry.

Here, if you have a coffee, and the JJ has a coffee, and you have a straw. There it is, that's a straw, you see? You watching? And your straw reaches across the room, and starts to drink JJ’s coffee... you...drink...their...coffee! (makes a sucking noise) You drink it up!”

“And then what?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, make some art or some shit.”

So that’s what I did.

Enjoy!

Big Love,

Nainers

P.S.

For the detail oriented, the text in the background isn’t random. They’re actually readable stories written by yours truly!

my lil’ guys, nainers, 2026

book recommendation

Trans Wizard Harriet Porber and the Bad Boy Parasaurolophus by Chuck Tingle

“Laughed, cried, and tingled all over. Needed now more than ever.” - Mr. Baby, my furry little guy

The second instalment of Des Hume’s Ambient Night is right around the corner, and I’m grappling with the irony that I’m so stoked for these chill vibes. But here we are: Des Hume’s carefully curated sound from their vinyl and tape collection is inviting, eclectic, and as smooth as two scoops of gelato. Yes my friend, that much smoother than ice cream.

I’m a fan of Des Hume’s solo work as an alternative pop singer song-writer, so I knew I was in for a tasty time. Their live-mixed playlist had luscious dollops of Nala Sinephro, Iasos, and Beverly Glenn-Copeland, to name a few.

But, my fuzzy baby bird, the success of the night lay not exclusively with the music, but also with, pun-shamers be damned…

the ambience.

I arrived early (recommended) to sit at a table and sip my mocktail and soak it all in. Des Hume set a welcoming tone for their guests to unwind however they pleased; painters, knitters, sketchers, and writers bobbed along while immersed in their craft. As an ambivert with oscillating social anxiety, I deeply appreciated the night’s feel of poppin’ over to a friend’s house for a hang.

For the chattier of us, there was an open floor to mingle and actually have a conversation without shouting. Like, a decent conversation. I had at least three thoughtful conversations that night I still think about, and that night was in October!

If you want to just float along and let the good times roll, that’s ok, too.

The night was giving effortless chill.

As for the venue: Moodswing Cafe has a large pride flag front and centre, and the staff are great! Their espresso is rich, and the few mocktails they serve are just as creative and fun as their cocktail selection. The walls are adorned with local art everywhere you look, as well as a kooky string of doodles from patrons passing the time. Not the biggest venue, but the seating was comfortable. And, as a writer of eccentricities, I appreciated their book shelf and magazine rack.

and the event is free

When I asked Des Hume why they put on the night they said:

“there’s an appetite for curated listening that exists outside of the dance floor. You can talk over it, you can ignore it, or you can sit and let it wash over you.”

From the success of the first night, I anticipate this second one will be just as delicious.

You can follow Des Hume on instagram here, and peruse their website here.

Big Love,

Nainers

could you use a review!?

Nate Nate Nainers is the ma’am for you!

I only write about things I like, so if you’re trying to promote something artistic, musical, or literary, and it’s culturally pushing back on the fascist hellscape we are experiencing, send me an email with your details at nnnainers@gmail.com!

If you are like me, you most likely have a brain that is struggling to process our current news cycle. So I thought I’d share some things that help me shake out the ughery and breathe in the rad.

Please, by all means, consult a doctor to see if these are a good fit for you!

thingum 1 - literally shaking out the ughery and breathing in the rad

I started this practice as a wizard in 2021 when there was quite a bit of ughery a-foot. What is ughery?? Whatever makes you go ugh.

It’s pretty simple.

Take a big deep breath, imagining that you are inhaling all that is good in this world.

Then audibly exhale all that is bad in this world. Growling helps. Howling is better. You can sing, too. Beat your chest, or just shake your body, imagining all the ughery leaving your system.

Repeat 3 - 10 times.

thingum 2 - citric spanker-daddy

Sometimes I need a stiff drink to snap me out of a downward thought spiral. I don’t drink alcohol anymore, but I found a pungent citrus drink did the trick.

The more sour it is the more likely I am to savour it, and the more it sucks my whole attention to my tongue. That little circuit-breaker helps me in a pinch!

1) Pour in just enough maple syrup to coat the bottom of a short glass

2) Pour in 1 tbsp of lemon juice and 1 tbsp of lime juice

3) Stir until the syrup has dissolved

4) Fill glass with ice cubes

5) Top up with carbonated water and stir.

6) Optional: plop a dehydrated lemon or lime in the drink

7) Sit back, take a sip, and get perky!

thingum 3 - tea bath

I highly recommend you do your own research for this one as there are thousands of teas to choose from, and those teas aren’t universally safe for everyone’s skin. For example, I thought I was in for a real treat with a peppermint epsom salt bath until I found out the hard way that my sensitive bits do not like peppermint!

So here’s what I do:

I figure out which tea is ok with my skin, and which teas are great for calming nervous systems - google is your friend.

For me, I found out that run-of-the-mill culinary sage, when brewed in a tea and put in a bath, promotes relaxation and soothes sore muscles. So I do that and almost fall asleep within 6 minutes.

So I make a whole pot of it and steep it for 15-20 minutes before I get in the bath.

Pour the brewed tea into the warm bath and enjoy!

You can get really creative with the herbal teas, including culinary herbs!

My go-to are sage and eucalyptus leaves.

thingum 4 - staring nowhere in particular in an upright position

Probably the best thing I’ve done for my mindfulness practice is not calling meditation meditation.

For me, that word is terribly loaded. Even just telling someone, I’ve been meditating lately, I end up internally navigating a quagmire of expectations, signalling, and appropriations. I really do wish saying meditation could be as neutral as saying sitting, so now I say, I’m gonna have a sit for a bit.

I like to grab a comfy chair, turn off my phone, and just sit for 10-20 minutes. Sometimes I sit with my eyes open, sometimes closed. I don’t care if I get carried away with my thoughts, I don’t try to shut up my inner monologue, I don’t try to make something special happen. I’m just sitting there.

I’m not disciplining my mind or entering a higher state. I’m just being with myself. Sometimes my mind races. Sometimes my mind is calm. I’m not performing for anyone. I’m just here. And if someone comes into the room, they’re not interrupting me. I say hey, I’m just sitting here for a moment, don’t mind me. I try to be as chill about it as I can.

I don’t do that at exactly 5:30AM every day. I just do it when I have a moment, or when I’m feeling stressed. I find it helpful if I do that before I go to bed.

I like to sit.

thingum 5 - singin’ along to a note for a moment

I’m getting into the habit of drone singing, and it’s not exclusively an aesthetic thing, I actually find it helps me off load a bunch of energy.

The psychological benefit of singing is well documented, especially in a group (all human societies have done this), but if you can’t get together with your friends to sing, and you have a lap-top or a keyboard, here’s a very simple tip.

If you have a keyboard, put it on a synthesizer setting, and hold a simple note or chord. Hold it for as long as you can. Then sing along however you like. No one’s watchin’. You don’t have to record it or share it or none of that. Ya just hold the chord and sing along until you feel lighter, then sing a little longer than that.

If you don’t have a keyboard, pull up garage band and use the keyboard function to hold a note or chord.

book recommendation

How Festive The Ambulance: Poems by Kim Fu

“Haunting, humorous, vibrant. The trappings of life and death through the lens of fairytales. Brilliant.” - Mr. Baby, my furry little guy

This month’s prompt was “America shutting-the-fuck-up for once” and I was stoked on the response. At the bottom of this post is the prompt for the next woo-hoos for haikus!

Enjoy!

Snow Piles High

Its Minus fourty

My friend is stuck in a regime

Dance for her safety

- Charlie Rae Walker

untitled

pow slap muzzle gag

canada is not far off

borders are open

- Jessica Gabriel

untitled

the dream is over

a moment of silence please

standing ovation

- Jessica Gabriel

untitled

Crushed throat blocked by fear

Searing compost emotions fire

Off gas dick jokes

- Heather McLean

Edufactory Worker

Tired mommy milkers

Fresh knowledge workers processed

Fatten up for slop

- Heather McLean

untitled

If you were quiet

You would all hear your empire

Choking on itself

- Cameron Ian Rendell Boyd

untitled

If you were to mute

The sound of birds might scare you

And you would shoot them

- Cameron Ian Rendell Boyd

for once

sun cupped in roses

silent garden galaxy

trump scrubs his own ass

- Nate Nate Nainers

untitled

Goku was too scared

The Japanese suns lost beams

Tucked him back in bed

- Channy-B

untitled

As his face slumps
Paralyzed in his hate
He shuts the fuck up

- Hamish Stone

untitled

From the deep jungles
To the frozen arctic sea
Twitter is silent

- Hamish Stone

untitled

Fire in the streets now

Winds catch the horrid gas wave

Sweet Liberty cries

- Noah Ferguson

haiku prompt for #3

no more empires

rules

The rules are simple:

1. Write a haiku in response to the prompt however you like.

2. A haiku is 3 lines: 5 syllables - 7 syllables - 5 syllables.

3. Include a title, your name, a pseudonym, or leave it anonymous.

4. Share your haiku in the comments section (click “leave a comment” button) or email me directly by responding to this newsletter.

5. Haikus will be shared in the next segment of Woo-Hoos for Haikus, March 20, 2026.

6. Deadline is 5:00pm, March 18, 2026!

7. Have fun with it!

   ---

   book recommendation

   Gargantua and Pantagruel by Francois Rabelais

   “Rabelais’ hilarious critique of the church, state, court, and all its players is just as relevant today as it was in Renaissance France. Absurd, satirical, painlessly philosophical” - Mr. Baby, my furry little guy

   

Robin Wall Kimmerer is a brilliant Potawatomi educator who champions the weaving of Indigenous knowledge systems with ye ol’ scientific method - and does so with such ease that to not do so seems absurd.

For many of us, the book that put her on the map was Braiding Sweet Grass (Penguin UK, 2020). I remember driving aimlessly around the Fraser Valley (2020 hobbies) and getting sucked into her CBC interview:

“Mosses have this ability, rather than demanding a lot from the world, they’re very creative in using what they have, rather than reaching for what they don’t have,” Kimmerer told Tapestry.

“When there are limits, the mosses say, ‘Let’s be quiet for a while. Abundance, openness, water, will return. We’ll wait this out.’” (CBC Radio, Nov 27, 2020)

Her refreshing perspective stuck with me throughout the pandemic. When I popped into Western Sky Books and saw Gathering Moss (Oregon State University Press, 2003), I didn’t even question my impulse - I bought it up right then and there.

Kimmerer has a masterful flow, is a natural storyteller, and will take you on a wild journey through essays that not only percolate the noggin’ with cool moss facts, but teach you about life as well.

You think you’re learning about spore colonization on a boulder - how slow and delicate their reproductive cycle is - but when the moss has survived to tell it’s verdant tale to its spores, Kimmerer introduces dust and leaf particulate drifting on a breeze. The small bits blow about aimlessly until they are caught in the rug of the moss’ microscopic weave, settling through the structure to the rock face itself. Minuscule organisms take refuge in the moss for protection from the elements, its wonderful moisture absorbing properties, and the netting of these small scraps of food. The organisms live, shit, and die in the moss, their little poops and bodies tumbling to the bottom of the structure, patiently layering strata of top soil.

The breeze billows again, but this time with seeds which, yes, are caught in the weave, sinking to the top soil where moisture is also trapped, and the bottom is rich with nutrients. The seed sprouts. Sometimes it’s flowers. Sometimes it’s bushes. Trees. A whole assortment of beings until that mossy boulder is a bustling ecosystem. An entire forest ekes from this rock.

At this point I go, Wow, ain’t life neat!

But Kimmerer goes, Not only that, Nainers, but did you notice how life begets life?

To drive home the point, she recalls an experiment she did to test this life-begets-life theory. On one plot of ground, there was moss. On the other, there was a synthetic replica. Days, weeks, and months pass. The astro-moss? Not-a-ting. The actual moss? Covered in sprouts.

Makes ya think about where we put our energy, and how we put it there.

and that’s not even giving away the book! thats’s a few paragraphs!!!

It’s an edifying read that’ll delight nature nerds, moss lovers, and life learners. For the non-Indigenous of us, Kimmerer promotes an important perspective that I believe this world needs to hear as we navigate our environmental crises. This book, in your hands, mind, heart, and spirit will not just spark important conversations, but inspire important actions.

If this review has piqued your interest, I highly recommend skipping over Amazon.com the devil’s warehouse and consider ordering your copy through your local independent book store.

For me and my house (especially Star), we like to shop at Western Sky Books in Port Coquitlam, BC.

If you’re elsewhere in Canada, here’s a lovely resource to help you find a bookstore in your area.

Big Love,

Nainers

woo-hoos for haikus #1 prompt

america shutting-the-fuck-up for once

Share your haiku in the comments or email me directly to be included in the post for WHFH #2!

Leave a comment

Hey hey, it’s crazy out there, come inside! It’s crazy in here, too, but in a fun way!

Creating weird little nuggets of joy is my coping mechanism for when the world gets more intense. Things will change for the better soon, so for now: a drone song about my dog.

Today I channeled all my anxieties into this bizarre track about Star. He sat on my bed the entire recording, so he knows just how much I love him back.

Pour yourself some tea, throw on some headphones and take a journey into my love for my favourite beasty-guy.

If you don’t know if this is comedy or not, then I consider my job done.

Enjoy the sonic break from the chaos!

May this trip take you somewhere special.

Don’t forget your blanket!

Big Love,

Nate Nate

woo-hoos for haikus #1 prompt

america shutting-the-fuck-up for once

Share your haiku in the comments or email me directly to be included in the post for WHFH #2!

book recommendation

Ghosts by Cesar Aira

“A working class folk tale on queerness, family, and shame. Provocative, introspective, brave” - Mr. Baby, my furry lil’ guy

Gratuities & Support

If you’re feeling supportive and generous towards an independent artist, but want to keep your commitment minimal, consider gifting me a one-time tip of your choosing in my Tip Jar!

And if you want to be a hero, you can become a paid subscriber! It helps me balance my day-job with sharing my passion to readers like you!

Tips

no one really asks why you’re a wizard, but they do ask how

For those not in-the-know, since 2021, on a semi-regular basis, my performance friends and I dress up as wizards and roam the streets of Vancouver with mischievous joy in our hearts. We tell riddles and jokes, we play the wise fool, we gift little hand-crafted trinkets, and one time we blessed the aqua-bus captain in exchange for a free ride around Vancouver Harbour.

Why I am a wizard is quite obvious to most people. Because it’s fucking awesome. Come on (to this date I’ve never been asked that) But people more inclined to test my metal tend to narrow their eyes and deepen their tone and ask, how, exactly, did you become a wizard?

And I tell them the truth. I felt it was true, so I started acting like it.

that’s really as far as it needs to go

As an openly schizoaffective person I must admit, the world is a confusing place. I spend plenty of time trying to discern social dynamics, assess my safety, and lead a meaningful life - I haven’t met someone who doesn’t. But being open about something like this, coupled with my wizardry, attracts people who don’t just want to be multi-dimensional beings together - but want me to go through “a program.” Their trauma healer camp, or ayahuasca temple, or join the Intergalactic Council for Liberation from the psychic vampires behind “so-called COVID-19” (that one deserves its own post) All because I’m a very special person, yes I am, no other reason at all, they swears it, really they do…

I’ve had some out-there-ly sober experiences while roaming around as a wizard - internally, externally, and a bit of both. But that’s generally true for any artist caught up in a flow-state. Somehow the musicians follow along the unannounced key shift during a jam session. The improv team acts out an entire scene without missing a beat, as if it were scripted. The poet goes somewhere else yet is present while sharing on stage. And then it doesn’t happen like that at all.

I’m not entirely sure why these things happen, but plenty of us have experienced these magical moments. They can forge friendships and they can be fun stories around the campfire, and they can add rich threads to the tapestry of our lives.

allowing myself to be a wizard

I will say yes, there’s lots to learn out there - including in the world of wizardry and performance art. There’s people that know much more about it than I do, and I know a little more than some others as well. But becoming a wizard didn’t start with some formal initiation of elder wizards. It started with a dream. Then it really started with allowing myself to pursue that dream.

I simply thought to myself: Hey, that would be really fun. I think I’ll go do that now.

And then I did go do that now for 5 years and it’s been a blast with many memorable experiences that I’ll cherish for a long, long time.

No, I’m not writing you today to encourage you to become a wizard.

I’m simply reminding you of what you already know: if you want to live out a dream, no matter how silly, weird, or wild, take this post as a nod to not wait for someone to say you should, could, or can. Just go do the thing. It doesn’t need an Oscar-winning story-arc. Just open yourself up to it looking different than you expected and it changing over time. Accept it may not last forever. Have fun with it, and make some friends along the way.

You got this!

Big Love,

Nainers

woo-hoos for haikus #1 prompt

america shutting-the-fuck-up for once

Share your haiku in the comments or email me directly to be included in the post for WHFH #2!

book recommendation

The Candy House by Jennifer Egan

“A generational journey through the trappings of social media - eloquent, moving, haunting” - Mr. Baby, my furry little guy

Leave a comment

Gratuities & Support

If you’re feeling supportive and generous towards an independent artist, but want to keep your commitment minimal, consider gifting me a one-time tip of your choosing in my Tip Jar!

And if you want to be a hero, you can become a paid subscriber! It helps me balance my day-job with sharing my passion to readers like you!

Tips

Today’s newsletter is Woo-Hoos for Haikus , a low-stakes invitation to write haikus inspired by a monthly prompt.

If you follow my newsletter there is a large chance that you are three of the following:

Left leaning, connected to the Queer community, have deep empathy and understanding for neurodivergence, have been in therapy, have a spiritual side, love nature and being outdoors, love comedy, are a sensitive bean, and are really into art, literature, theatre, and everything weird, silly, and wild.

That’s all to say, if you are feeling a “yup-yup-yup” to any three of the above, I’m positive your haiku is going to be quite welcome in this little nook, and we’d love to hear it!

It’s a community-building venture that’s here to help us cope with the times we’re in - may our woo-hoos for haikus see us through.

The rules are simple:

1. Write a haiku in response to the prompt however you like.

2. A haiku is 3 lines: 5 syllables - 7 syllables - 5 syllables.

3. Include a title, your name, a pseudonym, or leave it anonymous.

4. Share your haiku in the comments section (click “leave a comment” button) or email me directly by responding to this newsletter.

5. Haikus will be shared in the next segment of Woo-Hoos for Haikus, February 20, 2026.

6. Deadline is 5:00pm, February 18, 2026!

7. Have fun with it!

the prompt

america shutting-the-fuck-up for once

Leave a comment

Big Love,

Nainers

Hey hey, things are shaping up to be a great night of literary entertainment this coming Monday! (show details below, but first, about the Food Bank)

Food Bank

Food security is a major issue in our communities. 1 in 5 Canadians are currently dependent on food banks, and so many people (children, seniors, adults) are skipping meals to make ends meet.

I have personally experienced not having enough food for an extended period of time, so I wanted to open up this coming event as a place to collect food for the Food Bank.

Currently we’ve got 10.3 pounds of food, but through the power of community good will, we’re aiming to get that number up to 100 pounds!

If you can’t make the show, but want to drop off some pasta, rice, tuna, beans, soup, etc., we’d be more than happy with that. (Please make sure it’s un-opened!)

And you can rest assured, donating food is not a requirement for enjoying the show.

We’re just wanting to spread the love, and we know you do, too!

Wait, what show!?!?

You’re invited to my crazy-ass heart-felt poetry set, and to share your own stuff, too!

I got a 30 minute set, Nov 10, Monday, at Open.Mic.Night.1 @ DCTRL (the Tuesday, Remembrance Day, is a stat holiday)

In the set we got Deirdre Morgan on jaw harp for a musical interlude, plus Kier Gray and Thom Frank and Deirdre backing me up as a choir for a very special poem (with a very silly instrument)

I’ll be reading from my upcoming book, “Smokin’ Holy Spirits” (Galleon Books, Fall 2026) - which is a surreal, absurd, and psychedelic exploration of leaving the church. There will be some airing of harder experiences, but it won’t be without levity, silliness, comedy, and grace.

Plus cake to celebrate the good news that I have a new book coming out!

That’s jazz, baby!

BIG LOVE!!!

Nate Nate (they/she)

Calling all poets who love clowns, clowns who love poets, and church defectors who love Sunday mornings now!

Nate Nate Nainers is hitting DCTRL’s stage with a 30 minute set of alternative poetry that reads like a queer jester disavowing evangelicalism to find a bizarre and more personal sense of divinity.

Featuring sets by:
Deirdre Morgan on jawharp
Goldbard Moonchild, Kier Gray, & Thom Frank as a choir

Nate Nate will read from their forthcoming book, “Smokin’ Holy Spirits” (Galleon Books, Fall 2026). Always keen to celebrate at every opportunity, there will be a chocolate Costco cake to celebrate the good news!

Oh ho ho, you bet your tookers it’s an open mic! So bring your poems, stories, clown turn, and more!

This will be a lovely night to meet other poets, ex-vangelicals, and lovers of the stranj, absurd, and surreal!

November 10, Monday
Doors 7:00
Show 7:30

DCTRL @ 436 W Pender St Vancouver
by donation

***REVIEWS***

“Filled with humour, grace and the sensibilities of a giant socialist tortoise, Nate Nate Nainers brings to the stage and page a joy of words, an explorative understanding of their star-crossed upbringing and the many voices of rural British Columbia.”
- Sean McGaraggle

“Be prepared to go on a verbally psychedelic journey that melds story time and lyrical spoken word in a way that only Nate Nate Nainers can create! An unforgettable experience!”
- Jenny Garcha

“A spectatcular show. Comedy, theatre, and raw emotion”
- Aaron Hunter

“A privilege to witness. Playful silliness, wild surrealism, naked honesty, and bold vulnerability. Nate holds out their radiant humanity with both power and tenderness in a way that invites you to encounter your own. Cosmic and grounding.”
- Jon Affleck

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