“She hasn’t been back since” by Julia at her desk


Thursday November 27, 2014
5:42pm
5 minutes
Summer Dress
July Talk


The city’s all lit up at night now
There are lights hung from the tree tips
There’s that feeling in the air
It was her favourite and everyone knows that still
It’s probably the hardest part of everything
Seeing her face in the snow
In the ice rinks
In the candy canes
So what do we do now?
Wait
Drink tea?
Coffee
She’s not coming back so we have to make a choice
Keep living
Trying
Keep smiling
Remembering
When it’s hard that’s when she’s closest
So with that we can make a fresh attempt
When it’s hard
When it’s hard and beautiful out
When people look happy

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“Share with a friend!” by Julia at her desk


Wednesday November 26, 2014
6:45pm
5 minutes
from a thank you card

She stole my baby name and that’s why we’re not friends. I told her, I said, I’m really excited about this name, it means a lot to Philip and I, and I can’t think of a single better name for our future child. So I laid it all out. I was honest, I was candid. I made sure she knew the stakes were high for me. There has to be some sort of unwritten, or even written, fully and explicitly written rule about baby name theft. And how if it’s not illegal, should be. Even if someone isn’t pregnant, it doesn’t mean their baby name is not still something incredibly important. And Sheila was pregnant, sure, and fine, but, but, she took something from me. A million other names in the free world, and my best friend, takes my best name, and then acts like we never had that really clear conversation about what we would name our kids that rainy march saturday afternoon. The nerve. So obviously when I found out that I was unable to conceive, I withheld that information from Sheila because I learned to only share important things with real friends.

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“you either get it down on paper, or jump off a bridge.” by Sasha on her couch


Monday November 24, 2014
9:17pm
5 minutes
from a quote by Charles Bukowski

In the darkness, it’s quiet. He takes off his blue suit, piece by piece, and if anyone were watching they might’ve thought it looked like a dance. Choreographed. The pants, draped over a wood hanger. The belt removed and hung on the hook in the closet. The vest, left on the back of the chair, a small white mark on the pocket to be dealt with later. The shirt, unbuttoned, slowly, and hung beside it’s brothers and sisters, all in a row. The sound of the bus going by. Undershirt. He looks at himself in the mirror. He think’s he looks younger with the new haircut, better with the bit of stubble. He smiles at himself. It’s the first time he’s done that.

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“rather than something crafted from odds and ends” by Sasha at 49th Parallel


Sunday November 23, 2014
10:21pm
5 minutes
from a quote by Mary Catherine Bateson

found our way back to his place
his place
i usually prefer to go to my place
comfort
but the cat barfed on the carpet and so it smelled like
egg salad
i wasn’t sure how to do it
breach it
did i just grab his hand and put it on my crotch?
no
no
why would i do that
too abrupt
too out there
too in your face
i’d caught him staring at my adam’s apple
a small one
but still there
still not the woman i want to be
i caught him peeking down my shirt too though
found our way back to his place and we’re on his couch
and we’re kissing
soft lips
soft lips he says
and i’m saying
hold on
hold up
i’m i’m i’m i’m i’m

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“All of it, kid.” by Sasha on her couch


Saturday November 22, 2014
8:11am
5 minutes
From a first draft of a screen play

Clementines are out again, see that! Those big ones that fill your hand right up like a baseball! And those tiny ones that you just so easily putt with a golf club! Clementines are out again kid, and you know what that means? SNOW. The snow’s coming soon. When I get a crate of those clementines at the IGA, I save it and I use it as kindling. Best kindling you can find. Better than brush, or whatever they teach you to use at Cubs. I prefer my clementines right out of the fridge. Cold. Better than a beer in a chilled glass! Better than a popsicle!

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“too damn cool” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Friday November 21, 2014
9:32pm
5 minutes
from an e-mail

Cool is the currency
Cool is liking that pink hat
Or… Is it?
Cool is
Cool is
Cool isn’t Celine Dion, he says
But when I was there
On the other side
The blonde haired dark skinned one
Low slung jeans
And sad eyes
Played My Heart Will Go On
With utter sincerity
Cool isn’t the painting above the toilet
Cool isn’t scrolling through your phone looking at picture of women in lingerie on Instagram
Cool is a judgement call
Cool is traded
Cool is coded
Cool is switched
Cool is that tree
Trees are cool
Effortless
Attachement (Roots)
Unattachment (Leaves)

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“Welcome to Amsterdam” by Sasha at Vancouver General Hospital


Thursday November 20, 2014
2:21pm
5 minutes
A sign at the Amsterdam Airport Schiphol

Welcome to Amsterdam
And Lethbridge
And Honolulu
Welcome to your grandmother’s basement
And the siren songs
And the back of the Chevy pick-up
Welcome to NeverNeverLand
And the rainforest
And my kitchen table
Welcome to yesterday
and under your covers
And the black sand beach
Welcome to the bus
And the clover field
And the lavender farm
Welcome to Athens
And Venezuela
And Whitehorse

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