Tag: Starcubism

Kelly Olynyk sat alone at the bus station on the far outskirts of Kamloops. It was raining, the kind of rain that signaled the ending of summer, steady and cold, letting you know that snow was now only weeks away. It was late. How long he had been waiting for a bus, any bus, he…

Kelly Olynyk walked down the main street of Kamloops, distracted. D’Ambrosios pizza parlor called to him, but he did not heed. Too many memories. Although, now that he thought about it, it seemed that his hometown of Kamloops consisted entirely of memories he did not want to remember. He had made a mistake coming here…

“Forgot my shades.” Kelly Olynyk walked in to the storage room, grabbed his sunglasses, put them on, and walked out without another word. The members of Starcubism, minus their keyboardist, looked at each other. “Don’t tell me you expected that, Moonbeam.” Ferguson said agitatedly after briefly being buoyed by Kelly’s reappearance. Moonbeam wore a different…

Silence reigned in the concrete confines of room 162 at Kamloops Mega Storage, a sharp contrast to the cacophony that had been present just a few moments earlier. The remaining bandmembers of Starcubism looked solemn, except for one, who had adopted his usual serene manner. “So, uh, Moonbeam, do we have a timetable or anything…

Kelly Olynyk looked at the instrument with awe. He had imagined something like this only in his wildest fantasms, yet here it was, resplendent in its own glory. It seemed a bit out of place, here, at Kamloops Mega Storage, a far cry from the sun-dappled hillsides which he had imagined, but what did it…

Walking up to the dreary rows of storage cells that made up Kamloops Mega Storage, Kelly hesitated. Starcubism was supposed to be dead. By going here, he was just giving the guys false hope. He thought back to Ferguson’s words back at the pizza parlor: “Moonbeam said you’d be back eventually.” Moonbeam had always been…

Kelly’s mind spun. His Rick Wakeman posters, his most prized possessions, including the one signed by the key-master himself, gone. His extensive 400-count collection of vinyl, spanning everything from First Nation tribal music to post-metal to jazzwave, gone. All gone, given the same treatment as an old pizza box, taken away to some dump to…