“Now get your ass over here!!!” By Sasha at her kitchen table


Saturday October 18, 2014
12:18pm
5 minutes
Advanced Italian Grammar
Marcel Danesi


“Alan! Get your ass over here!!!” Bernie has one of those voices you hope you’ll never have to hear at seven ten in the God damn morning. “Do you have to shriek like that? It’s early…” I want to kick Leonard. Bernie takes a long pause and then rises from his desk. “What did you just say to me?” “I just, ah…” Leonard shrinks into his sweater vest like a fucking turtle. “I’ll talk however I want, Leonard, because guess what?! I’M THE FUCKING BOSS HERE! I’M THE BOSS! So, shut up, drink your orange juice and get to WORK!” Poor Lisbeth is plugging her ears. I think there’s a tear forming in her eye… If she cries, I might. It’s that bad. Alan’s made his way to Bernie’s desk and he’s waiting, shaking. Poor guy’s wife just gave birth to a stillborn. He does not look good. I try to catch his eye to wink at him or something, but his gaze is fixed on the floor.

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“Who wrote those poems?” by Sasha at Kafka’s


Friday October 17,2014
12:18pm at Kafka’s Coffee
5 minutes
Advanced Italian Grammar
Marcel Danesi


Who even wrote these stupid poems? These asshole poems in my notebook in my fucking handwriting? Who wrote this one about losing their sanity, and their youth, and their feeble attempts at fitness? WHO WROTE THESE IDIOT POEMS!? I’m gonna just go ahead and rip out these pages because this is BULLSHIT. I’ve been impersonated. Someone has pretty much pretended to be me, gone into my private notebook (where I write private things like, my grocery list, and notes for, like, school and occasional rants about a certain messy desk in my apartment that does not belong to me) and written shitty poems? What, is this a joke? Not funny. No one is laughing. Oh… You’re laughing? Well, you have a sick-ass sense of humour. Screw you. STOP LAUGHING. Who wrote these nasty poems?!

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“ADDICTED?” By Sasha at Trees Organic Coffee


Thursday October 16,2014 at Trees Organic Coffee
5:44pm
5 minutes
from a Sandwich board at ITIT

Addicted to the thrill of the spotlight, or, the stoplight, changing from red to green and you’re off. Maybe it’s the same thing – spotlight and stoplight – maybe it’s the same glow that gets you tingly and feeling the most alive.

I’m quieter and slower and more partial to slow cooker soup and candlelight. I get a thrill from finding the most incredible recipe for stewed peaches, and I’m excited by the fact that I’m going to have to wait until next August, when peaches are in season again, to make it. You’ve stopped rolling your eyes at this part of me, you’ve started putting your arms around it, and breathing in it’s caramel smell.

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“I remember needing nothing” By Sasha on her couch


Wednesday October 15, 2014
11:39pm
5 minutes
Minute Eternity
David Whyte


When I awake, you’re gone. When you’re gone, I’m dangerous. When I’m dangerous, I’m snooping. When I’m snooping, I’m full of shame. When I’m full of shame, I’m in the dark. When I’m in the dark, I’m still. When I’m still, I’m wondering when you’ll back. When you’re back, I’ll be shy. When I’m shy, I smile. When I smile, you see what I don’t know. When you see what I don’t know, you lean in. When you lean in, it’s beautiful.

It’s beautiful when I’m alone in your basement apartment, my underwear in a ball in my back pocket, opening your medicine cabinet and trying to decipher if you’re more or less crazy than I am.

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“And I have been in Heaven” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Tuesday October 14,2014
4:03pm
5 minutes
from a quote from Isaac Asimov

I’ve been to heaven in the shape of knowing what I want.
I’ve been in the sky when the ground is moving and I’ve stayed up up up.
I’ve been to hell (not yours)
Mine
It looked like the sheen of a toilet bowl and smelled like a stiff neck
I’ve been there
Just as you have
I don’t know your place and you don’t know mine but we find the space between
The one that’s catching wind and slides across the floor like a domino

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“Who wrote those poems?” by Julia at Parco della Zucca


Friday October 17,2014
3:18pm
5 minutes
Advanced Italian Grammar
Marcel Danesi


I might have been dreaming them. They seemed to fill my skin to the brim causing slight tremors and excessive use of metaphors. The sky was speaking directly to me and she was nudging me, trying to give me the answers without incriminating herself. She nodded. She winked. I couldn’t get the message because I was half listening and laugh-halfing and she gave up on me before I could say Ah, yes, I get it now. Laugh-halfing happens in between sleep and awake: a backwards place where the mind cannot meet up with the body. It tries, but wires get crossed and signals get lost. Sometimes I don’t hear the sky, I hear Nina Simone instead. But the body doesn’t know how to move. Just to describe movement with colours and poems.

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“ADDICTED?” By Julia at ITIT Il Sandwich Shop


Thursday October 16,2014 at ITIT Il Sandwich Shop
6:52pm
5 minutes
from a Sandwich board at ITIT

WHY WERE THEY YELLING AT ME? I WAS FINE BEFORE THEY STARTED WITH ME! I WAS SO FINE I COULD HAVE KILLED SOMEONE. BUT NOT, THEY HAVE TO DO THAT DANCE. THAT STUPID “YOU’RE MAD” DANCE AND THEY ALL KNOW I WASN’T EVEN MAD. I WASN’T MAD UNTIL THEY STARTED ACCUSING ME OF BEING MAD! WHY DON’Y PEOPLE GET THAT? WHY CAN’T THEY READ THE ROOM? THEN SUDDENLY, WOAH, SERENA, THAT’S TOO MUCH. THAT’S TOO FAR. YOU’RE THE ONE WHO CAN’T TAKE A LIGHT ISSUE WITHOUT TURNING IT INTO A FIRETRUCK OF SENSITIVITY.

WHO EVEN THINKS SAYING FIRETRUCK AT A TIME LIKE THIS IS CLEVER? WILL SOMEONE CALL THE COMEDY POLICE AND ARREST THESE BUSH LEAGUE IDIOTS FOR WASTING THE PRECIOUS SPACE OF MOTHER FUCKING HUMANITY?

AND THEN IT WAS JUST DOWN HILL. SO FAR DOWN I COULD HAVE KILLED SOMEONE. AND THEY WERE LIKE, WOAH, SERENA, ARE YOU OFF YOUR MEDS AGAIN, AND I WAS LIKE, NOOOO, ARE YOU???

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