“chicken liver pate”by Julia on the plane to Philadelphia


Monday April 14, 2014
2:59pm
5 minutes
The Grid
April 10-16, 2014

He said he’d return it if it got sent over to his table. Said he thought it was inhumane. Said don’t even bother trying to impress him by sending over your best items. It was already too late having things like that on the menu in the first place.
When I met him I thought I was going to shoot myself in the face. Out of just being so tired of dealing with his ever present presence and his attitude toward the waitstaff. I wanted to shoot myself in the face. I wanted to shoot him him the face. But instead I smiled politely and I worked harder then I thought I would just to distract myself from his persona.
I knew about his disdain for foie gras. I knew he hated it and was making a big scene. So I’m the one who got it sent over to his table. I admit, I wanted to see what he’d do. I wanted to see what he’d do when the cameras weren’t rolling, when the reporters weren’t reporting, when he was alone, or thought he was.
And I watched him look around and take a bite. And then I watched him smile and take another.

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“Must be used” by Julia at her desk


Sunday April 13, 2014
11:06pm
5 minutes
from a TTC transfer


To help others to help them so hard they don’t know what to do with themselves. That’s what I want. You ask me what I want and that’s the only thing. Give give give. It’d make my mother proud. She was a giver too. Only not in that way. She just had that spirit. She was always helping out where she could. But gambling got the best of her. She was a good person till the day she died, but that gambling, boy I’ll tell ya, it really hooked her in and kept her tight. Now if I don’t gamble and I give give give I can make my mother so happy. So happy that she saw that the good that there was in her could be transferred and that the bad that was in her didn’t have to go beyond her. And I haven’t started yet. I haven’t been able to sink my teeth into any old fashioned kindness. I mean, that’s what I want but I also have to make rent and some other stuff.

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“Return for redemption” by Julia at Belly Acres


Saturday April 12, 2014
6:41pm
5 minutes
from the can of Magners

I wanted to be seen in a particular light so I used to say certain things and have opinions about things that I would then speak out loud about. I wanted people to believe that I was one way. That I was only one way. And I suppose now that I think back on it, I think I wanted to be thought of a certain way because I didn’t want to do any more learning about myself. When people think of you in a certain way you start to behave in that manner and you start to embody what it is others see. Then you don’t have to do any more work. You just have to do what people expect and say what people think you’re going to say. It’s easier. And harder. Because as soon as you have your own thoughts or epiphanies about the outside world, you have to keep those to yourself. Nobody wants you to be what they don’t know how to label.

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“All it takes is time.”by Julia on her couch


Friday April 11, 2014
12:38am
5 minutes
From a quote by Kurt Vonnegut

I had a diary when I was young filled with the same name over and over again. I thought I was going to marry this human being and I thought the song Mmbop by Hanson was going to play at our wedding. I was thinking first dance because I was also assuming that this human would love the song as much as me and he’d practically beg me to have it playing on repeat. He was obviously as into me as I was into him and he probably also wrote my name in his boy diary the way I wrote his.
Then I grew up.
But before that, I wrote him a note in the fourth grade and asked if he Liked Me Yes No Or Maybe and he wrote back Kinda and I screamed internally with all my girl parts dancing a choreographed routine out of joy and love and acceptance. I took it as a full invitation. I wrote back (with balls I might add) When Did You Start Liking Me? And he wrote back I Don’t Know. A While?

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“line ‘em up and shoot ‘em.” by Julia on the couch


Thursday April 10, 2014
12:23am
5 minutes
From a quote by John Grisham

Franky used to be a real prick. He’d line up my Barbie dolls and shoot the heads and the tits off each one. One by one by Barbie dolls would undergo their painful transformation as my brother Franky (who obviously didn’t believe women existed as human beings), would ruin their bodies and their faces satisfying his cruel desire for violence and nudity. He grew up one day and I told him that he should really try to make sure his own kids didn’t do that to their sister because it was actually pretty traumatizing for a 6 year old to witness her precious little dolls experience such a travesty without an explanation that it’s because some men just hate women.

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“Must be used” by Sasha on her couch


Sunday April 13, 2014
12:02am
5 minutes
A subway transfer

When Mama makes a grocery list, she uses a piece of stationary that she got in Chicago. She went with her second to last husband, William. He did lots of business in Chicago. William only wore clothes in the pastel palate, no matter what the season. William was from Georgia and sounded like a grandma, with a high pitched voice. “He gives me lots of TLC,” Mama would say with a wink. When Mama writes a grocery list, she uses that real nice stationary with the little blue birds. She parades it proudly in her hand as she marches the aisles of the Food Mart, her pumps clicking on the linoleum. Her lipstick is pink and her cardigan is tied around her shoulders. She might put it on in the frozen section, leaning into the freezer for peas and vanilla ice cream.

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“Return for redemption” by Sasha on the Keele bus


Saturday April 12, 2014
6:10pm
5 minutes
A can of Magners

When he makes his way back into the classroom, the letter “F” has fallen from the felted alphabet that’s pinned up above the blackboard. He wonders if its a sign. “F” for “Failure”. “F” for “Fucked”.

He hadn’t meant to do it. But he had. The rumours circled faster than vultures to a dead deer.

“He’s a fat fag! Look at that fat faggy nasty ass face!” He’d walked in, just before Jay punched Alfonso in the nose. More blood. More broken. He’d seen it since September, one thirteen-year-old picking on the other, bullying the other, rallying the other eighth graders with the power of an army general. He’d been patient. He’d dutifully given detentions and sent home notes. He’d even called in Jay’s father for a meeting. He’d been stood up.

He moved faster than he knew he could. He pulled one boy off of the other, face covered in tears and snot. He threw all one hundred and three pounds of Jay Eiserman up against the wall. The inspirational quote calendar fell to the floor. “You lay a hand on Alfonso again, you little shit, and I’m gonna kill you.” Jay dropped to the floor, rage shooting from his eyes. He ran to the Principle.

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