“his birthplace has now lost its charm” by Sasha at her kitchen table

By: Sasha
creative writing, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, short writes short reads, these five minutes, Uncategorized, writers, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , , ,

Wednesday November 14, 2018
8:40am
5 minutes
Master of the Masterpiece
Anya Georgijevic

He remembers home as bigger than it is. Maybe that’s because he has something to compare it to now. He remembers walking down Princess St. and knowing almost everyone he passed. How they’d greet one another. Mrs. Blake, his kindergarten teacher, pushing her grandson in a stroller. Dan Savant, star athlete turned used car salesman, after he dislocated his shoulder one too many times.

“Hi, Davey, how are you?”

“Good to see you, Davey! Lookin’ good!”

Now that he’s back, packing up Mama’s house, putting everything in piles (recycle, donate, trash, keep), he feels it’s lost it’s charm. Home changes, it’s not static. Home is something else.

“a sense of optimism and openness” by Sasha at her kitchen table

By: Sasha
creative writing, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, these five minutes, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , , ,

Tuesday November 13, 2018
7:48am
5 minutes
A Decade’s Difference
Kaija Pepper

In the fifth floor office staff room
A bar fridge a basket of bananas and clementines
A sign stuck above the sink that reads
“Your habits are a reflection of you”
Marion forgets to wash her coffee cup
and leaves it in the sink where
Jake finds it and traces
the outline of her lips
with his index finger

At the holiday party last year
Jake told Marion that he loved her
she was wearing a royal blue dress
and holding a Manhattan Jake was wasted
and wasn’t and isn’t
sure if she was too

“I’m sorry I’m sorry” she kept saying
she was still with Keith then
she was still making turkey meatballs
on Sunday and packing them
in glass tupperware containers
for them both for lunch
Keith
Jake thinks
What a douchebag name

“A fresh perspective.” by Sasha at Pallet Coffee Roasters

By: Sasha
creative writing, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, these five minutes, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , ,

Monday November 12, 2018
12:46pm at Pallet Coffee Roasters
5 minutes
Montecristo Magazine

Being by the water gives him a fresh perspective, and he learns this young, when he is still a boy. As a young man, he surfed Great Lakes and oceans, and paddled on rivers. Being by the water helps him to forget his heartaches, his growing pains, his regrets. Now that he’s grown, now that Maria has called off the engagement, he decides to leave the city. He can work from home most days, and if he needs to go into the office, it’s a seventy five minute drive. He loves to a cabin overlooking Lake Superior. He has to put in new floors and get rid of a mice infestation, but other than that it’s perfect.

“the decision to buy” by Sasha at her desk

By: Sasha
creative writing, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, these five minutes, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , ,

Sunday November 11, 2018
6:23pm
5 minutes
Full Throttle
Stephanie Wallcraft

I give myself one big splurge a week. It can be a steak from Whole Foods or that fancy butcher downtown (I would never tell anyone this, but sometimes totalling $27. $27!) Or, a fancy overpriced sandwich from a fancy overpriced cafe, but come on! They serve their sandwiches on silver plates that look like your grandmother might’ve eaten off of them and yet somehow they miraculously sparkle! It’s probably someone’s job to shine those plates. Good grief. In winter I splurge on beverages – tumeric vanilla lattes and such that come to $7. $7! That’s why I only give myself a splurge a week. Once I’ve had my splurge, I make a note in my calendar exactly one week from that date. That’s when I’m allowed my next one.

“10-year anniversary” by Julia at her desk

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Saturday November 10, 2018
7:54pm
5 minutes
Into the Raven’s Nest
Curranne Labercane

This is the third time I’ve tried to say what’s real.
Stop, start, think about the deadlines and the
people who don’t know me but will get the chance to see.
Isn’t that stupid of me? Here, find a vein, stick a fork in it.
Some words live lower than the other ones. I don’t know what’s
in there and what wants to come out. What wants to stay low.
I have to say I’ve been quiet but I don’t hear anything.

I have to say I’ve been running and I haven’t moved.
I don’t know what is happening inside me. Time to celebrate
the 10th year of me not fully feeling anything at all.
When I told my dad I went through long phases where I never
felt hungry and then ones where I never felt full, he told me
it would pass. But it hasn’t passed so is this something
I need to save up to talk to a therapist about?
Is there some kind of emotional x-ray I can hook myself up to?

“In front of a full crowd” by Julia on the 9

By: Julia
5 minutes, creative writing, ongoing writing practice, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Friday November 9, 2018
11:10pm
5 minutes
No Place Like Home
Monika Markovinovic

If I am being honest with myself I don’t need to see anyone for a long time. I wonder why that is, if maybe I’ve been seeing enough of something else that makes the solitude taste so good.
I wonder too if maybe it’s because I don’t have anything to say since the lie of saying a thing sometimes makes doing a thing feel unnecessary. I probably need to read more. I don’t know enough big words. Can’t leave the house and see somebody and use too small of a word.
That might break the system of expectation. That might really teach me something.
I don’t need a full room or anything, maybe because these days that kind of room scares me. Might send me up to the front of it with not just the wrong words but the wrong feelings.
It could have something to do with not knowing if thirst is that tickle in the throat or the one just below it. It could be about listening.

“10-year anniversary” by Sasha on her couch

By: Sasha
creative writing, fiction, ongoing writing practice, short fiction, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , , ,

Saturday November 10, 2018
8:34am
5 minutes
Into the Raven’s Nest
Curranne Labercane

I can still hear my heart beating in my ears and the rush of blood to my scalp. He pulled his chair back and came around in front of his desk.

“What do you think your punishment should be for this bad behaviour, Miss Bennett?” He’s so close to me I can smell his musky aftershave.

“Um… I don’t know?” I’m fifteen. I have never been sent out of the classroom, let alone in a principle’s office.

He leans down close to my face. The heart beat in my ears. Rush of blood. It feels like every hair on my body is standing straight up.

I’d heard rumours about him. This kind of thing.

“In front of a full crowd” by Sasha at her desk

By: Sasha
5 minutes, creative writing, ongoing writing practice, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project

Friday November 9, 2018
6:31am
5 minutes
No Place Like Home
Monika Markovinovic

I keep having that dream. You know the one. I’m standing in front of an audience, on a stage, like the kind in a school auditorium. Maybe it’s a gym. Yes… when I look across, there’s a basketball net, and banners. It’s a gym. There’s some sort of concert taking place, and everyone has an instrument but me. Trombones, penny whistles, violins, cellos… and I’m just standing there, arms swinging at my side. I’m just – … waiting. It’s as though everyone’s waiting for me, though, like I’m supposed to do something. Am I supposed to – …?

“for young students who can’t sit still” by Sasha at her kitchen table

By: Sasha
creative writing, fiction, ongoing writing practice, short fiction, short writes short reads, Uncategorized, writers, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , ,

Thursday November 8, 2018
6:11pm
5 minutes
From the Beginning
Chelsey Burnside

Mickey makes the sign of the cross and rolls his eyes back into his head so that only the whites are showing. Sister Helen waddles to the front of the class and we all try not to laugh. We don’t want to get our knuckles smacked with her big protractor. She whips her head around and Mickey is still going, crossing himself faster and faster, tongue hanging out of his mouth. No one moves. Sister Helen narrows her eyes.

“Mr. Fitzgerald, do you need to visit the nurse?” Her voice could cut ice.

“No, ma’am…” Mickey says, quietly.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!”

“No, Sister Helen.”

“for young students who can’t sit still” by Julia at her desk

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Thursday November 8, 2018
11:32am
5 minutes
From the Beginning
Chelsey Burnside

I have a couple cures up my sleeve
for those days with the knocking knees
Where you can’t sit still even if you please
cause the mind is a buzz with a billion bees
I know what to do when you can’t cut through
the noise that’s been making you feel annoyed
so listen up here it’s the answer it’s the key
for those bumping hearts that are bursting free
Keep moving then if the calm won’t stay
it’s the right time to run if your legs shaped that way
there’s a river to be imitated
if your hunger got you far from sated
you can roll in and out
till your bones get tired and eventually
your nerves will expire
so run like the wind and kiss like the moon
the silence will be there when you’re
ready to tune in your inner ear to the inner light
and until then just keep growing your bright.

“The biggest personality among this trio” by Julia at her desk

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Wednesday November 7, 2018
9:09pm
5 minutes
High Living
Jacqueline Ranit

I have to write about something positive. It’s been a long time and maybe some of you are noticing. Or not. Maybe none of you are noticing because none of you are reading these. You used to but maybe life got in the way which is to say got in the way of me. For you all it means is that you have one. A life. And that’s wonderful for you. I think everyone deserves that. I wonder if you’re out with your new family now that you’re not reading these. I wonder if you’ve ever thought to check in and see how I am doing. I might have been very honest in these and could have been giving you the real keys to my under belly but you might be busy is all. You might have other things to do, going to fancy picnics, ordering pizza on a Wednesday. Well in case you’re reading this, things are going really really good for me. They couldn’t be better.

“The biggest personality among this trio” by Sasha at her counter

By: Sasha
creative writing, fiction, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, short fiction, these five minutes, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , ,

Wednesday November 7, 2018
6:52pm
5 minutes
High Living
Jacqueline Ranit

Becca has the biggest personality of the three of us, I would say. Then comes Miranda and then comes me. I’m the quiet one. I’m not a wallflower, I mean I’ve french kissed a few people and puffed on a couple of joints even, I’m not, like, a nerd or anything. We’re semis. Not popular and not not popular. Semi popular. People in the caf don’t totally ignore us and if Miranda gets a new mini-backpack or something then someone might say something, might give her a compliment and then give Becca a compliment on her gold hoops and then maybe give me a compliment on my haircut. I didn’t get a haircut exactly, but I’ve stopped straightening my hair which means that it does look shorter.

“art remains a potent weapon” by Julia on her bed

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Tuesday November 6, 2018
10:05pm
5 minutes
When The Beat Takes Over
Robert Collins

maybe I said it in my sleep-
walked to a notebook with decision-bowed deep to an excellent sentence.
maybe I didn’t hide the tears when you told me that I was brave.
you knew it meant something. not a guy scoring points with just anyone by doing rollups. you had to have been listening then. to the language my eyebrows speak. to the worry walking from room to room sort of moving things to the right.
and part of me still held your motive under surveillence. even asked point blank if you meant something by it and what did you mean.

“art remains a potent weapon” by Sasha on her couch

By: Sasha
Uncategorized

Tuesday November 6, 2018
8:04am
5 minutes
When The Beat Takes Over
Robert Collins

I wonder if I kept writing songs if I’d be somewhere else now if I learned to drive if I’d be somewhere else now if I’d chosen to move to Montreal and learn French and eat cheese if I’d be a different version of the me I am now

This is normal right the early morning thought train
barrelling ha ha
barrelling
towards
how did I get here
and am I
where I’m
supposed to be

Geographically the answer is
yes
at least for the
time being

I wonder if I signed with that agent I wonder if I’d gotten that grant I wonder if I’d been less shy and more of a hustler if I’d sucked that guy off or at least given him a kiss I wonder if I’d been less concerned with winning and losing and getting there and

I just wonder

but it’s morning and the time’s almost up on the timer and I’m going to kiss the man I love goodbye and brush my teeth and go to the job I love and

I wonder

“There is much discussion about the colour” by Sasha in the bath

By: Sasha
creative writing, five, five minute story, five minutes, love poem, ongoing writing practice, poem, short poem, these five minutes, tiny poem, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , , ,

Monday November 5, 2018
10:06pm
5 minutes
Blushing
Daenna Van Mulligen

River playing in the living room and I’m here
now okay this is the now and then there’s skating
on the dreams of when we wore pink snow suits
and swam in blue blue water turning us into
little women turning us into mermaids
killed and kissed and freedom and water

She’s so busy now being who she needs to be
that sometimes I’m not sure about any of the choices
that I’ve made oh those seven thousand miles between us
stretching into winter and forest and grouse and
oh scaling the chasm of forgetting

Let’s go back there to the place where we
would sing in the backseat of the white Nissan of the
truth and all that floral stationary telling our
secrets telling our futures reading our open
and outstretched palms

“There is much discussion about the colour” by Julia on the 4

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Monday November 5, 2018
4:06pm
5 minutes
Blushing
Daenna Van Mulligen

the art show application says its prioritizing certain colours and certain lifestyles and certain lives. The word prioritizes indicates that some are valued more. in the past there may have been priorization but it was not in the mandatory mandate. the trouble is no one is allowed to argue it. this is not a blind submission although i’m not sure the mandate would like the usage of that word. unless that is what they are priortizing. when I priortize my work I tend to doll out levels of importance to them. I say to my work, “you are the least important and therefore you are not important. some of you are not worth anything at all.”

“the woman’s anonymous appearance” by Julia at her desk

By: Julia
creative writing, fiction, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, short fiction, these five minutes, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Sunday November 4, 2018
10:21pm
5 minutes
Beauty Beheld
Sara Harowitz

She shivers from her shoulders down to her thighs
crossed tightly feeling a little tremble forcing its way in
He hasn’t noticed how cold the house had gotten
hot blooded, covered in thick skin built for winter
It was bad enough that her whole body was prone to shaking
but she didn’t know how to fix the heat
Chalk it up to co-dependency
She’d rather that than have you think she is just too afraid
to learn how to do it on her own
He tells her he’ll be home for dinner, remarks something about
chicken thighs
She thinks about walking into the oven chest first
but having it on would at least warm up the kitchen
When he leans in to kiss her, he misses her mouth by an almost inch

“the woman’s anonymous appearance” by Sasha at her kitchen table

By: Sasha
creative writing, fiction, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, short fiction, these five minutes, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , , , ,

Sunday November 4, 2018
8:21am
5 minutes
Beauty Beheld
Sara Harowitz

The woman appears in what she always knew she’d be wearing in this moment, an outfit she’s thought about more than any other thing in her life, though she’s loathed to admit that, she’d never admit that.

Horowitz calls the woman into his office. She’s ready – cheek’s flushed, breath deep, hands shaking only slightly. Horowitz recently died his hair black and the woman isn’t used to it yet. It looks severe, menacing even.

“How are you, Katrina?” Horowitz doesn’t stand up when she enters, even though he should, and he knows it. He takes her in, toes to scalp. The woman bristles. This isn’t going as she’d planned.

“Thanks for meeting with me, Henry. I appreciate your time.” She sits down in one of the red leather chairs opposite his desk. He leans back.

“What’s up?” He pulls a file from the top drawer and files his left thumb nail.

“I have worked here for three and a half years. I have managed every account you’ve given me to the best of my ability, and received only glowing praise from clients. I know it. You know it.” She uncrosses her legs, feels her feet firmly planted on the floor.

“the hell days” by Sasha at Olive & Ruby

By: Sasha
5 minutes, creative writing, fiction, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, short fiction, these five minutes, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , , , , ,

Saturday November 3, 2018
12:02pm at Olive & Ruby
5 minutes
Soil, Sun, and Soon
Daenna Van Mulligen

“Mom?” Mimi is braiding Felicity’s long red hair, the doll that Oma made for her when she was just a baby.

“Mmmm?” Mom is looking at her phone.

“Mom?” Mimi holds up Felicity so that Mom can see how good she is at braiding now, how much she’s been practising.

“What Mimi? I’m busy, can’t you see that?” Mom rolls her eyes, but unfortunately they don’t make it down to Felicity’s level.

“Never mind.” Mimi goes into the living room where Dad is reading the newspaper.

“Dad?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Look at Felicity’s beaaaautiful hair!” She punches the doll through the newspaper, and her father gasps.

“Monika?! Could you please come and deal with your daughter?!” Dad shouts very loud.

“the hell days” by Julia on the 99

By: Julia
5 minutes, creative writing, fiction, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, short fiction, these five minutes, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , ,

Saturday November 3, 2018
9:52am
5 minutes
Soil, Sun, and Soon
Daenna Van Mulligen

I thought daylight savings was yesterday. I was worried I missed out on that one feeling a year you get when you realize you had an extra hour of sleep. When I woke up I still felt tired. These are the hell days. When 7am looks like 4am and there seems to be no real good reason to leave the bed. Except for all the reasons that catch up before noon. The ones you should have written down the night before. The ones you should have already internalized.
Some of this grey has seeped into my good intentions. It’s like a drop of water landing perfectly in the dry speaker of your phone. Everything sounds blurry. You want to throw the whole thing away and start over. But the hell days don’t let you start over. They make you travel to the bottom of the bottom to show you just how deep this sadness lives. They want you to look it in the face and apologize or something. For what, I’m still not sure. It wants you to see what you’re getting good at avoiding.

“never stop bringing hope to humanity” by Julia on her walk home

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Friday November 2, 2018
11:27pm
5 minutes
More Than Cooking
Marla Cimini

Today my sister lights a spark in me from across the country
we act like we never left our childhood bedroom
her side painted with the hope of blue and
mine dwelling pink
we didn’t know each other until later but I think we always knew

Takes one to no one
I tell her after she has told me that so many times
I wonder how bright we can get when we trust that the light inside us is made of love
I call her on my walk somewhere hoping she’s free after school
neither of us expect to have a life-changing conversation and every time it is a life-changing conversation
her philosophy
tender hearted curiosity
She is the reason I am able to do anything for the rest of the day
The morning begins like a siren reminding me that I have bodies to bury in the backyard
She listens with the kind of patience you can only get from Barbie dolls
but she is not poking her head into somebody else’s blouse
She is the strongest thing I can lean my head against
In her company I am the most uniquely grounded me
it comes on a day perfect timing for both of us to remember that the light can be seen from far away when it is turned on
So she flips the switch on for me
And I flick the switch for her
We plan a trip to Europe in the year 2024 like it were already here.

“never stop bringing hope to humanity” by Sasha on her couch

By: Sasha
5 minutes, creative writing, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, poem, short poem, these five minutes, tiny poem, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , , , , ,

Friday November 2, 2018
7:22am
5 minutes
More Than Cooking
Marla Cimini

Light a candle
on the alter, where you
are, where we are,
Animal forms and a few
green things and rocks
from the woods.
Pray to the highest
cosmic force, pray
to love.

It’s always
something, isn’t it?
It’s then quake of the
heart in the face
of a call to arms.
It’s the gentle calling
towards softness towards
release towards relax
towards slow.

Morning brings
something new
now, an anointment of honey
on the third eye,
ash on the lips, a mantra
of let go
let go let
go let go.

“I get a lot of praise for the work I do” by Julia on her couch

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Thursday November 1, 2018
9:04pm
5 minutes
A quote by José Andrés

do you find that when you know the answer to something and you do the opposite, you tend to get pretty down? Nina tells me I’m hard on myself for what I think is taking responsibility. but she shakes her head and sucks her teeth like she caught a burn in her mouth. maybe she’s right but I don’t want to admit that.
I want to get there before anyone else can. Tell them I’m so bad and I did a bad thing so they can say well at least she’s self-aware.
in the same breath Nina tells me I’m talented and there’s a light on inside
me that she believes is love. I’m glad I heard both things that Nina had to say. I don’t want to keep myself down.

“I get a lot of praise for the work I do” by Sasha in her bed

By: Sasha
creative writing, ongoing writing practice, poem, short poem, short story, short writes short reads, tiny poem, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , , , , ,

Thursday November 1, 2018
11:40am
5 minutes
A quote by José Andrés

This morning I woke up with a pain in my side the size of your body
And now I’m carrying you along side me unable to move or breathe
I’ve never had trouble sleeping til now and now I can’t sleep past
Sunrise something about the light creeping through the cracks and
I’m ready to feel the flutters and kiss the surrender and get into
A hot shower

We talk about the power of water sitting on a couch across from
Each other and I know now more about listening and being listened to
Than I did only half a year ago mark the difference in feeling in my
Throat in my heart in my guts when I’m being really listened to

“she continued to cook into the early evening” by Julia at her desk

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Wednesday October 31, 2018
5:33pm
5 minutes
A quote from Pasquale Cusano

there’s a book i’m reading
about a woman’s love affair with food and cooking
you gave it to me
it has all the lines you like underlined
you used pencil mostly
but sometimes pen
I think that’s bold of you
it makes me read it through your eyes
it makes me think of you read and what you think about things
material things-as in you don’t seem to care much one way or the other
I wonder if you take notes during phone conversations
or pause the movie a bunch of times to record your favorite lines
I wonder how long it takes you to get ready in the morning
if you’re the kind who owns a steamer because you need a steamer or if
you’re the kind who wears wrinkly shirts because you don’t have a steamer

“she continued to cook into the early evening” by Sasha at her desk

By: Sasha
creative writing, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, these five minutes, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , , , ,

Wednesday October 31, 2018
5:26pm
5 minutes
A quote from Pasquale Cusano

The evening comes earlier and earlier
You aren’t sure if you like that darkness
Especially since the dusk highlights
The lonely and the lonely highlights
The loss

The evening comes earlier and earlier
And the hands of winter tickle your
Back as you watch the crows fly west
As you think about the seasons
And the sunset and how long it’s been
Since you called your sister

The kettle boils and everything
Is a little bit better with a cup
Of peppermint tea
A big spoonful of honey
You decide not to turn on the TV
You’re tired of the sound of
All of the voices

The evening comes earlier and earlier
This season so close to the time change
So close to losing an hour
How does that work?

“take on any city” by Sasha in Whistler

By: Sasha
Uncategorized

Tuesday October 30, 2018
11:26pm
5 minutes
A Mercedes-Benz ad

Now that we’ve done it once it feels like we could do it again, even though I’m not sure I’d want to or how it will be because everything will be different then. Everything is different now. Everything is always different, I guess.

These last four months the biggest thing I’ve learned is that the only true constant is change. I’m learning that it’s okay that some people come into our lives and make a huge impact, a collosal impact, and then it’s time for them to go. Birth and death. I’m learning about birth and death on every level – the primal and the real and the metaphorical and the guttural.

“take on any city” by Julia on the 99

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Tuesday October 30, 2018
6:07pm
5 minutes
A Mercedes-Benz ad

got our bags packed
our walking shoes
makes no difference
to me where we go
with you I cant lose

the salty wind has
been kissing our cheeks
but maybe there’s another
hymn that wants to lull
us to sleep

you’ve decided every
single time but I guess
I’m not the arguing kind
I haven’t been kept up at night so looks like I trust
you babe

There we’ll lean in and
grow into our grandfather skin
treat wednesday night like
sunday morning until we
forget which year it is

cross the path that has
been stepped on many times
by boots of big decision
you and me are going
someday soon

“The year was 1969” by Sasha at her kitchen table

By: Sasha
creative writing, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, these five minutes, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , , , ,

Monday October 29, 2018
8:17am
5 minutes
Suite Dreams
Eve Thomas

Woodstock. The Vietnam War. The Manson murders. The year is 1969. Come Together and Honky Tonk Woman top the charts. A year that defines a generation. My brother Arthur is drafted to go to Nam and flees to Canada. He ends up in Winnipeg and falls in love with a man named Bob. Arthur and Bob fly me in for Canadian Thanksgiving. They make the most elaborate meal I’ve ever eaten. We listen to The Temptations and smoke dope and dance around their living room. Arthur cries when I leave. He says,

“You’re my lil’ penguin and I don’t like being so far away from you.” I know what he means. We saved each other’s lives throughout our childhoods and not being geographically close anymore wears on me in a quiet and dangerous way.

“Food is more than what we eat” by Julia at her desk

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Sunday October 28, 2018
10:09pm
5 minutes
Dishing on Destinations
Sarah Musgrave

I have been saying it lately, feed me something that will stick to the ribs
let it be meat-thick and full of lessons I could keep my shelves lined warm

I have been asking for more and taking less
Telling them what they put in their pill casings ends up at the bottom of the barrel anyway
the bottom of your best intentions

I have been eating less and craving more, making room for lessons that aren’t going anywhere
And saying to my guts don’t worry this is worth tasting
hold on for dear life and try not waste it

What we put in our bellies to keep us going, food for thought
are we thinking?
Soul food to bring the soup to boil and simmer there
simmer simmer there

“Food is more than what we eat” by Sasha in her bed

By: Sasha
Uncategorized

Sunday October 28, 2018
8:32pm
5 minutes
Dishing on Destinations
Sarah Musgrave

I make an applesauce cake with whole wheat flour, cinnamon, quarter cup of sugar. It overflows out of the cake pan and makes the whole apartment smell like burnt sweet toast. I save the cake and no one would know that this happened unless I tell them. I do. I make cream cheese icing with honey and save it to ice right before eating. This cake is a blessing for a life that’s coming soon. This cake is love for the women gathered. This cake is the sweetness of friendship. Food is more than what we eat.

“synonymous with yesterday” by Julia at her desk

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Saturday October 27, 2018
10:18pm
5 minutes
Golf Nouveau
Conan Tobias

Old Me
Old you
Old self
Longings
Youth
mistakes
Me stuck
you falling
recipe for who I used to be
Old Me
Old You
Longing
Younger
Before Grace
High Horse Happy
Me, as Doormat
Me, as Blessed for Blaming
Something synonymous with yesterday
Old me
Old you
better judgement
trial by error
Belief against time
Yesterday
Yesterday before grace,
Me on high horse to
prevent me as Doormat
Something yesterday
Dream left lingering
Memory
Proofju
wishing
Lost
Yesterday
Yesterday

“synonymous with yesterday” by Sasha at her kitchen table

By: Sasha
creative writing, love poem, ongoing writing practice, poem, short poem, tiny poem, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , , , ,

Saturday October 27, 2018
9:20pm
5 minutes
Golf Nouveau
Conan Tobias

Yesterday yesterday
yesterday yesterday yesterday
five yesterdays equals almost
seven years right four days shy
of seven whole yesterday years
We talk about when
We talked about how and now we’re
here and now where there and now
You are the you you dreamed into being
I am the me almost me full me coming soon
We are the you and I that we loved and
love now and will love and what
about when I’m eight-four and my back
hurts and my feet need lotion
what about then
Yesterday yesterday will feel so misty
maybe or so fresh too

“a ghost town at night” by Julia on her couch

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Friday October 26, 2018
11:44pm
5 minutes
California’s Big Comeback
Degen Pener

It’s not like a place an ex lover lives
the wind chimes make your heart feel like stopping
Once there was a whole hour where the ice cream truck
stole our souls with its signature haunt
I know the place an ex lover lives like a 4am Hail Mary
Full of Grace
dream batted down by the inner shake of a too-heavy Indica
stretched lace across the blank of the mind
There where the street lights blur the memory of us

“a ghost town at night” by Sasha on her couch

By: Sasha
creative writing, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, these five minutes, Uncategorized, unedited, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , ,

Friday October 26, 2018
10:03pm
5 minutes
California’s Big Comeback
Degen Pener

Hi Felix. This place is a ghost town at night and I hate that. I miss the city and being able to get street meat or Ethiopian food at any hour of the day. The one restaurant here closes at nine most nights and whenever I’ve tried to (craving fries, the one thing I passionately love that I truly do not know how to make at home) there was a handwritten sign in curly cursive on the front door that said, “Mickey’s having a baby! Back in a few days.” When will you come visit me here? Some nights it’s so quiet that I think I’m crazy. Some nights I imagine the sound of traffic, the bus.

“The sunset was worth it” by Julia in her bed

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Thursday October 25, 2018
11:24pm
5 minutes
From a Roots ad

It had been at least six months and one week since they had seen the sunset. A hundred plus a hundred nights of missed opportunity. Beth had begged (a risk that didn’t look good on her) him to walk down to the water with her. He kept saying yes with his mouth and no with the rest of him. She could have gone on her own but she didn’t see that as an option. How is one supposed to see anything when the light in the room has changed. Hero stopped asking Beth to go down to the water with him. As if he was punishing her for wanting it so badly. After all, she could have gone on her own if she really wanted to see the sunset that badly. But it wasn’t about the sunset and both of them knew it.

“The sunset was worth it” by Sasha in her bed

By: Sasha
creative writing, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, these five minutes, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , ,

Thursday October 25, 2018
10:35pm
5 minutes
From a Roots ad

Now that my hair is finally long enough to braid I feel very sophisticated. A braid down one side, or straight down the back, says class and glamour and “I’m together, but not too together.” I wear a ironed white button-down, slightly oversized, slim fitting dark blue jeans and black loafers. I braid my hair, obviously. It’s my first day and you can never get a first day back. I think it was my second grade teacher, Mr. Glen, that taught us that. He was right. It’s true. A first is a first, and there’s no making it a second or a third. New jobs used to terrify me, but now that I’ve had a whole lot of them, I’m more calm. Not “calm”, but more calm.

“a symbol of luxury” by Julia at her desk

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , ,

Wednesday October 24, 2018
9:50pm
5 minutes
Fairmont Magazine

Time is a thing I do not want as luxury. I have never been very good at using it wisely and who says what wise is except the wisemen.
I don’t want more than my share. Don’t want more than I have in case I can’t treat it properly. And I can give myself more if I say no more. I could say no more. Amy says it could be called NOvember. She’s said no to six things she’s already said yes to. I’m going to start calling it that, myself. Might be a nice way of telling time that I am grateful for what I have and I’m not greedy for more. I will love the time I already get to know. Don’t want anyone thinking this is a one way street.

“a symbol of luxury” by Sasha at her desk

By: Sasha
creative writing, ongoing writing practice, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , , ,

Wednesday October 24, 2018
6:52am
5 minutes
Fairmont Magazine

Polly wears her grandmother’s moonstone ring as a symbol of luxury. “My writing will never be ironic,” she says, hair in a high bun, wafts of brown around the nape of her neck. She imagines that she is being interviewed for an arty magazine by a smart woman in a black turtleneck. She’s talking to herself.

“I am obsessed with 19th Century descriptions of clothing and jewellery, and I will never tire of reading about how something or someone looks.” The interviewer, let’s call her Mia, she smirks.

“Would you like another cup of coffee?” Polly goes to the stove and fills the Bialetti with more espresso. She plays with her ring as she waits for the water to rise.

“Embrace Change” by Sasha at her kitchen table

By: Sasha
Uncategorized

Tuesday October 23, 2018
5:41pm
5 minutes
A BIRKS ad

You say “embrace change” but then you fight it like we all do, kicking, screaming and hating it while it happens. You say “be the light in your life” but when I arrive after you’ve invited me for dinner, dishes are piled high in the sink and you’ve forgotten. You’re in a bath robe. It smells like hamsters. You buy a “Laugh Live Love” print from Home Sense (on sale for twelve ninety nine) and put it above your bed where you don’t want to move from, where you’re stuck and have been for weeks now. I wonder if you just spoke the truth, your truth, if maybe things would feel better.

“Embrace Change” by Julia on the 351

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Tuesday October 23, 2018
2:57pm
5 minutes
a BIRKS ad

I think the guts of me are changing
The literal guts of me and the figurative ones
The ones that weren’t there before are here now
You know when they say
It takes guts to do something like that
Well if you don’t have them does the thing every get done?
Now it feels like my guts are all happy to be in me
Knowing they’re going to be used for doing something
They are all on board and asking to be taken
Yes please take these guts and jump!
And my literal guts are different
Cause I give them what they need every day and they know that they’re not being used to filter out the wrong stuff
Before I think they did their job almost begrudgingly
It takes guts to do something like that
Fine I guess since we’re here we can but it’s really beyond our pay grade
Guts can’t work on everything for nothing
Now I know this
And I’m changing

“I recommend starting your day off with” by Julia on L and J’s couch

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Monday October 22, 2018
8:05pm
5 minutes
a quote by Chris Cahill

Since you asked, I’d say with a couple hundred words on paper, written by hand.
I recommend starting your day off with a big love letter to yourself. Tell your heart you’re listening and that she is welcome.
Tell your inner child that it’s okay to be here and be loud and be herself.
Tell your current self how brave you are and how happy you are to see yourself showing up in writing, creating a legacy, keeping a promise to exist.
Feel free to draw hearts all over everything. There is no such thing as too much love, only spaces too afraid to hold it. Here, in the beauty of this moment, alone, quiet, dedicated to discovery, you will find your voice. It may change from line to line but life is full of surprises. Don’t be surprised if you surprise yourself.

You don’t have to do any of this if you don’t want to. It’s all up to you to decide what you need. It always is.

“I recommend starting your day off with” by Sasha in the bath

By: Sasha
Uncategorized

Monday October 22, 2018
9:02pm
5 minutes
a quote by Chris Cahill

I recommend starting your day off
with gratitude
and ending it with as much

Who am I to tell you
it’s not like I have things
filed and sorted and folded

In a time where we call out
all the injustice every injustice
and I don’t begrudge that

how do we
treat ourselves at the end of the day
when our bones ache and

we hunger for tenderness?
How do we treat ourselves when we
fuck up and don’t want to fall?

“the function and aesthetic of the neighbourhood” by Julia on her couch

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Sunday October 21, 2018
9:20pm
5 minutes
Room For Passion
Fairmont Pacific Rim

I don’t want to live in a place where everyone dresses the same but that’s where I live
All the dogs look the same
All the families
All the blonde women

In my neighbourhood there are a series of types of people:
1. The exhibitionists (us)
2. The peeping toms (us)
3. The laundry on Sunday (us)
4. The brunch on Saturday
5. The long walks(us)
6. The coffee shop (us)
7. The musicians (us)
8. The view lovers (us)
9. The porch (us)
10. The dog park
11. The wait in line
12. The Lululemon
13. The year round volleyball bod
14. The couch sitters (us)
15. The tv watchers (us)
16. The go to bed early (us)
17. The wake up late

“It received glowing praise” by Julia on the 2

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Saturday October 20, 2018
12:13am
5 minutes
a quote by Gordon Campbell

So the other day I decided I will become ambidextrous. Right now I’m binging on my right hand before I dive deep into my left. Currently typing with one hand only. I’m sending off my dominance in a big way. And the idea came to me when I started to have wrist pain. What if I can’t write with my right all my life? What happens to a writer who can’t write? Anything? Do they just become regular people again? Regular people who read other writers words?

My left hand is going to make me a millionaire. The work I’ll end up creating will receive glowing praise. “New!” “Raw!” “Purposeful”

“It received glowing praise” by Sasha on her couch

By: Sasha
creative writing, ongoing writing practice, poem, short poem, short writes short reads, Uncategorized, writers, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , , ,

Saturday October 20, 2018
8:02pm
5 minutes
A quote by Gordon Campbell

Avocados ripening in a ceramic bowl
next to butternut squash
a lemon
Regretfully
I have everything I want
and still I want more
It’s natural right
these bananas ripening
too quick these bananas
that will likely become
bread become stomach
become sweet become shit
Guzzling water standing
over the sink I can’t get
enough I can’t have enough
Enough
Rinsing lentils for soup
until the water runs clear
A handful of pecans
of potato chips
of cut up apple
These are the moments
This is the moment

“the function and aesthetic of the neighbourhood” by Sasha at Pallet

By: Sasha
creative writing, five, five minute story, five minutes, love poem, ongoing writing practice, poem, short poem, these five minutes, tiny poem, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , ,

Sunday October 21, 2018
11:02am at Pallet Coffee
5 minutes
Room For Passion
Fairmont Pacific Rim

I walk here in the quiet holding of Sunday morning
on the phone long distance with a beauty who can
meet all the gullies of truth and cackle at the ways
life laughs and leaks and loads and laughs.

This new neighbourhood place where I’ll bring you,
where we’ll get to know each other. It’s easy to assume
that we know each other now, with your heart
beating in my body, the truest possible knowing perhaps.
One body inside another. What kind of madness is it?

I imagine your pinky toes and little delicious fingers
and how you’ll be in on our inside jokes. I imagine
reading you all the stories that saved me and gave me
hope for what can be possible. I imagine all the hundreds
of meals I’ll make you. I imagine how you’ll need me in
a way I have not yet ever been needed. That’s such a
beautiful and terrifying in a way that
doubles the beauty thing.

“spaces for writers to meet” by Julia in her bed

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Friday October 19, 2018
12:03am
5 minutes
from litmaglove.com

what would I tell them
if I met the table of writers
would they know I was lying
like she did
would they have any respect at all
I see that now she wanted to like me but I wasn’t brave enough
I wouldn’t respect that either
so much for honesty and writing what you know
if it only causes you pain
why would any of us want that
but here we are going through it
here we are finding the love in the lousy

“spaces for writers to meet” by Sasha at her kitchen table

By: Sasha
creative writing, ongoing writing practice, Uncategorized, unedited, writing, writing practise, writing project

Friday October 19, 2018
11:02pm
5 minutes
from litmaglove.com

remember when we used to meet on monday mornings
or was it wednesdays or was it mondays
when we used to meet in the annex and we’d write
and write and share the stories on the pages
where the pencil or the pen and it was all right
it was all good we didn’t take it too we took it too
we knew what we were doing because we didn’t know
and in the unknowing we knew

remember when we used to do that and it felt so
good to gather and be together women on the verge
women wrestling and revealing and hearing and praising
women being in their power in the power of their
open hearted fearlessness still so much fear but
rising through it to the screech of streetcars
and the tick of americanos

“I am science.” By Julia at her desk

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Thursday October 18, 2018
10:41pm
5 minutes
From a text

I have been reborn so many times
And what is that?
Spirit or dream or science?
Cells regenerating
Rebuilding
Becoming strong
Becoming soft
Who do I thank for the new eyes,
New hands, new voice?
Me?
Do I thank me? Thank me for being here and all the in between?
I am here because of me and yes
I believe that but I believe in
so many things
The power of distance
The strength of a good night’s sleep
A heart ache that takes a year to stop aching
I am nothing and I am time
Infinite tomorrow
And a million yesterdays
I thank time for being here
And for being me
I am everything and I am
Science and spirit and dream

“I am science.” By Sasha at her desk

By: Sasha
Uncategorized

Thursday October 18, 2018
7:42am
5 minutes
From a text

For centuries, human beings thought that they were more science than miracle, more flesh and bone than story and wish. Only now, when everything’s wearing thin, when the music on the radio is no longer a revolution, only now, are we waking up to miracle, story, wish, fire, fuel, hunger, so much more.

Men in musty suits shake their shaggy eyebrows at the army of good, the army of anger. The seed was planted a long time ago. The tree grows.

“in contact with eyes” by Julia in her bed

By: Julia
Uncategorized

Wednesday October 17, 2018
11:44pm
5 minutes
From the soap dispenser

I think the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me is you like my eyes better naked. That was surprising to me. I didn’t think you noticed one way or the other. I wonder what else you see but don’t respond to. I respond to everything that I see. I might not ever let you off the hook. You might say that I’m projecting and you wouldn’t be wrong. I am mad that you spoke to me in a voice so much smaller than yourself. But I already know who started that one. I am getting quicker to the truth of me. It’s nice that you like me like that.

“in contact with eyes” by Sasha on her couch

By: Sasha
creative writing, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, these five minutes, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , ,

Wednesday October 17, 2018
6:50pm
5 minutes
From the soap dispenser

It smells like burning

and Damon is running around
like a demon or a chicken or something
I’m on the back porch hanging
the laundry on the line
The black flies are out
I’m trying to do it quickly

“Damon! Come help!” I call
but he’s off in the plum trees
or bringing the pigs the scraps
from lunch or chasing bunnies
behind the shrubs

It smells like burning but
I don’t see smoke on the horizon
so maybe I’ll ask Jim about it
when he gets home

We haven’t had sex in over a month
me and Jim because he’s still
recovering from that fall off the ladder
I’m going strange and wild
and he’s going quiet and moody

Damon comes running towards me
and I throw a pillowcase on him
and suddenly he’s a ghost

“I thought that I could take it from here” by Sasha on her couch

By: Sasha
creative writing, ongoing writing practice, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , ,

Tuesday October 16, 2018
9:54pm
5 minutes
Falling Water
Maggie Rogers

I wonder what you’ll do for your birthday this year
and if you’re aware of your failure to recognize
your reflection in the mirror? I wonder what you’ll
say to your daughter when she asks you where we are?
I wonder if you ever challenge your King for real or
if it’s all a performance because to survive you’ve
had to drink the juice and buy in buy in buy in.
I wonder what you think happened. I wonder what it
means that those that have helped you most are all
on the outs now. I wonder if you see this. I wonder
if you’re too broken, if he’s too sick, if there’s
just too much for you to see beyond the beyond.

“I thought that I could take it from here” by Julia on her couch

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Tuesday October 16, 2018
8:41pm
5 minutes
Falling Water
Maggie Rogers

It fell firmly from
the ceiling as if
it were made
of maple.
This idea of you:
I caught it in
my arms and held
you there so no one
could touch you but
me. I know about
secrets. I know when
to hide the chocolate
and where. I considered
you then, this detail
of you I mulled over
like a promise.
I decided with the
smell of your shirt
painting pastels
of your arms across
the room that you
were the right one.
This idea.
This weight.

“Worries are the most stubborn habits” by Julia on her couch

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Monday October 15, 2018
10:31pm
5 minutes
From a quote by Vicki Baum

isn’t it funny how heavy worry is when we haven’t put the work in and believe popping sentences.
two different things but you know what I mean.
I could fall asleep while blow drying my hair and here and during an epiphany storm and yesterday. all this to avoid myself. all this to find some control that doesn’t come with the reaponsability of making a decision. but brains sometimes over-spin. and here while I sleep. and yesterday.

“Worries are the most stubborn habits” by Sasha at her desk

By: Sasha
creative writing, ongoing writing practice, short writes short reads, Uncategorized, writers, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , ,

Monday October 15, 2018
4:09pm
5 minutes
From a quote by Vicki Baum

Worries are the most stubborn habits. I know this by heart, like the songs we sing in the morning when we’re drunk with dreams. I have a bad habit named Worry. I count on her to visit when I’m least expecting, when I think I have a handle, when I’m still, when I’m flying. Worry is a loyal companion, especially when things are fucked up and fraying, delicious and beautiful. A habit is a thing that can be broken in thirty days. No. A habit is a thing that can be started in thirty days. Does it go both ways?

“Thinking of you.” By Julia in her bed

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Sunday October 14, 2018
10:21pm
5 minutes
From a text

I’m not thinking of you.
I’m not laying in bed eyes closed picturing you.
I am swallowing all my body’s enemies
and all it wants is to release them
I’m not thinking of you.
I’m not scrolling eye rolling not considering you.
I am up to my eyeballs in decisions about me and my own eyeballs.
there is a lot left to know
about everything
about nothing
about silence
but I do not need to know about you.
not checking your latest falling for your taste tests
I’m not tonguing about you.

“Thinking of you.” By Sasha at her kitchen table

By: Sasha
Uncategorized

Sunday October 14, 2018
5:02pm
5 minutes
From a text

Thinking of you and all that you’re losing.
Thinking of you and all that you might be feeling but haven’t shared and so I have no idea really.
Thinking of you with your quiet joy secret.
Thinking of you and your death.
Thinking of you and the frailty.
Thinking of you who will be born this spring, this spring, this spring.
Thinking of you who knows betrayal like she’s your daughter.
Thinking of all we forget.
Thinking of all we remember.
Thinking of you and how I wish I could call you.
Thinking of you and hoping you’re okay.

“This report contains confidential information” by Sasha at her desk

By: Sasha
creative writing, ongoing writing practice, short writes short reads, Uncategorized, writer's block, writers, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , ,

Saturday October 13, 2018
11:39pm
5 minutes
From the lab report

This report contains confidential information. Please do not show this report to anyone, share it via the internet, or forward it in an email. This report is for your eyes only. There’s no reason for the confidentiality really, besides that this report wants to be taken very very seriously, and confidentiality means seriousness. Everyone knows that. This report is really only pertinent to you and no one else would care about it if they did happen to see it. This report is snickering about how earnest the expression is on your face.

“This report contains confidential information” by Julia on her couch

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Saturday October 13, 2018
10:48pm
5 minutes
From the lab report

burn after reading
or it’s the kind of thing that will burn you
every top secret insight
every thought secret kept tight behind lined pages
the letters adressed to eyes that were never meant to read them
this is the kind of private you’ll wish you never craved quiet turned public rage
inside voice blasted on the hallway speakers arent’t you glad you came
but if anyone should see it it’s you
if anyone should know me

“not even debate” by Julia in her bed

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Friday October 12, 2018
11:06pm
5 minutes
From a quote by Richard Wolff

why are all the midnights mad at me? no fight, no debate, jury’s never left. what did I do? to a family of twinkling possibility. what twisted corner did I take? today they gave me discernment. never a straight answer out of anybody. I don’t want to let them think I’m too afraid to notice what’s going on here. I don’t want
them to know how much I need them to change their minds.

“not even debate” by Sasha at Terrace Beach

By: Sasha
5 minutes, creative writing, ongoing writing practice, short writes short reads, Uncategorized, writers, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , ,

Friday October 12, 2018
9:38am
5 minutes
From a quote by Richard Wolff

Jennifer doesn’t enjoy debate, but Paul does, and so they do, because that’s how things go. Jennifer enjoys conversation, and avocado and cucumber sushi, and sleeping in socks. Paul enjoys debate, reading the New Yorker with a cup of lukewarm black coffee, and running uphill. Jennifer thinks that Paul is bizarre, and that’s one of the things she loves about him. Paul thinks Jennifer is simple, and that’s one of the things he loves about her. Paul instigates debates and Jennifer resists and refutes and then engages, because that’s what he wants, and she wants to give him what he wants.

“Most families” by Julia at her desk

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Thursday October 11, 2018
6:10pm
5 minutes
Poor and Poorer
Jerrold Ladd

Most families are not all families. I have to tell you I’m lucky.
Lucky that I never had to prove myself anyone. Lucky that I could
move out and move far and the guilt wouldn’t be there. The guilt
wasn’t given to me. I am lucky that my father shows love in sauteed
shrimp and that my mother will talk to me on the phone for an hour
if I’m walking that far. I am lucky that my sister sees my insides.
That she thinks my growth is beautiful. That she isn’t afraid to
tell me the truth. That she never pulls me down when I’m up.
That my brother let’s me call him whatever I want. That he wears
the bracelet I got him for Christmas 6 years ago. That he will pick
me up from the airport during a blizzard. Drive me to the airport
on his only day off. Tell the story at the table that makes me look
hilarious. I am lucky that my family gives what they have and doesn’t
count favours. That they send me photos of their meals when the only
thing missing is me. I am lucky that my family holds me. That they
think I’m important enough to wait for.

“Most families” by Sasha at the table at Terrace Beach

By: Sasha
5 minutes, creative writing, ongoing writing practice, short writes short reads, Uncategorized, writers, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , , , ,

Thursday October 11, 2018
4:05pm
5 minutes
Poor and Poorer
Jerrold Ladd

I know how lucky I am and I don’t take it for granted. Really I don’t. I know how lucky I am when I become an artist and no one questions it or asks how I’ll pay rent; when I fail and rise and break and shed and am seem for all of it, for each of them, by each of them. I know when I see how she isn’t known by her family in the way she wants so badly to be, and she is known by mine, in a different way, but in a way closer to her craving. I know how lucky I am, when he has pie and tea with my father and can talk about how hard it’s been, how he doubts me, and us, and the future, and more so himself.

“we have enormous power” by Sasha at Ocean Village

By: Sasha
5 minutes, creative writing, ongoing writing practice, poem, short poem, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , ,

Wednesday October 10, 2018
9:11am
5 minutes
Louder than Words
Starhawk

When he’s rolling cigarettes
just a little bit of weed
mostly tobacco don’t even okay
He thinks about his father
rolling cigarettes and smoking
sunrise to noon to sunset
to midnight his father in the
field hoping to keep calm
He remembers his mother beating
on his father’s chest with closed
fists with anger the colour of
blood in her eyes and how she wailed
when she told him he was gonna die
and how she wailed when she lost
another child and how she wailed
when he collapsed in the corn

“lured into my childhood home” by Sasha at MacKenzie beach

By: these five minutes
creative writing, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, poem, short poem, short writes short reads, these five minutes, tiny poem, Uncategorized, writer's block, writers, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , ,

Tuesday October 9, 2018
2:42pm
5 minutes
The Stray
Stephen A. Waite

We play Monopoly lying on our stomachs on the carpet
in front of the woodstove. Mom is out for a cross
country ski. We just filled our bellies with hot
chocolate, more than we’re allowed to have, more than
is good for us, but that’s okay. You put another
log into the mouth of the stove, and I jump up
because there are sparks, and fire is brave.
You know how to turn the damper. You know how to
be the banker. We hear Mom banging her skis on
the porch.

“lured into my childhood home” by Julia at the studio

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Tuesday October 9, 2018
1:34pm
5 minutes
The Stray
Stephen A. Waite

Matthew and Mark used to watch scary movies at their house. I used to lay with my head in Matthew’s lap and my legs in Mark’s. I felt like my older cousins were taking care of me. We weren’t allowed to watch scary movies at our house. And after seeing IT with them when I was six, I figured out why. I have always been the dreaming kind. Pisces born on land, a vivid seer of worlds beyond my own. I knew the answers were there. I knew the questions were there. I knew I was making connections and being guided. Of course when nightmares are a regular occurrence, it’s hard to think they serve a purpose other than torture, punishment, torment.
I used to pray before bed to avoid the bad. Pray to override the scary images swirling around in my tiny body. What did Matthew and Mark have? Who did they talk to about their bad dreams? Did they just learn not to remember them? Was it easier to stay quiet and keep watching scary movies? Was watching scary movies less scary than the reality they had to face?

For a while I used to associate their dad with Beetlejuice. One time he came to Mark’s room to tell us to shut up and go to sleep. In the shadows, his eyes looked sunken in. I dreamed about him that night instead.

“I married Dave” by Julia at her desk

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Monday October 8, 2018
8:30pm
5 minutes
Plants Don’t Have Birthdays
Andrea Gregor

I married Dave
He is the one I wanted to marry
He is the one I wanted to marry
He is the one I wanted
I am happy with Dave
He is the one who makes me happy
He is the one who
He is the one who makes me
I am in love with Dave
He is the one I wanted to love
He is the one I loved to want
He is the love I wanted
I settled for Dave
He is the one I wanted to leave me
He is the one I wanted to leave
He is the one I wanted then didn’t
I am still with Dave
He is the one I regret
He is the one I didn’t expect
He is the one I was too afraid to question
He is the one I can’t see myself in
He is the one who was there
He is the one who had a car
He is the one who had a temper
He is the one who had a problem
He is the one who had a temper
He is the one who lied
He is the one who kept me small
He is the one who I let keep me small
He is the one I married

“I married Dave” by Sasha at Ocean Village

By: Sasha
creative writing, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, short writes short reads, these five minutes, Uncategorized, writers, writing, writing practise, writing project

Monday October 8, 2018
3:31pm
5 minutes
Plants Don’t Have Birthdays
Andrea Gregor

If I’d married Dave my life wouldn’t be what it is. I would never have married Dave, but if I had, it would be chaos. It’s chaos now, in a way, but life is chaos sometimes and I’m okay with that. Dave is chaos. I’m not okay with that.

I sometimes get bored by the stories of my past that just go round and round and round and round. Can I ever let go? Am I the only one? What’s with the barnacles?

Summer makes me nostalgic and fall makes me nostalgic and winter makes me so nostalgic and spring makes me nostalgic too.

“in the blue plastic chair” by Sasha at Ocean Village

By: Sasha
creative writing, ongoing writing practice, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, , , , , , , ,

Sunday October 7, 2018
10:26pm
5 minutes
Illness and Literature
Tony Hoagland

Mia sits in the blue plastic chair and chews on the end of her braid. She’s waiting for her Oma to finish her treatment in the room with all the buzzing and whirring, where people of all colours and ages are hooked up to tall poles. Mia brought a book but she doesn’t feel like reading. On the way here, Oma said that Mia could play on her cellphone while she waited. Mia said, “No thanks”. Sometimes, looking out the window is enough. Sometimes, when you’re ten and a half, your imagination is what saves you.

“in the blue plastic chair” by Julia at her desk

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Sunday October 7, 2018
5:28pm
5 minutes
Illness and Literature
Tony Hoagland

I’m not going to sit here and pretend I know what you’re thinking.
I won’t stand and do it.
Kneel and do it.
Won’t close my eyes and picture you saying it.
All I can do from here, from outside your skull
from across the world, is invent a story that might explain.
I might tell myself that you think you’re right.
That you believe I should be working on my apology.
That everyone you know thinks the worst of me now.
I might try to understand why you’re desperate to control things.
But what it all means, that is something I’ll only be able to dream up.
No proof.
No facts.
You’re probably not sorry.
And there I go again.
I don’t know what you are thinking but I know what I am feeling.
I want to scream it out but the wisdom says, the source says, the sister says:
I should practice being still and if I know I am right, let that be enough.
But I don’t know now.
I don’t know what is good.

“My friend Joe” by Sasha in a bunk at Camp Fircom

By: Sasha
creative writing, five, five minute story, five minutes, ongoing writing practice, these five minutes, Uncategorized, writing, writing practise, writing project, ,

Saturday October 6, 2018
11:02pm
5 minutes
His Hands
Mary Jane Nealon

I used to have a friend name Joe.
Then things went really fucking wild and I can’t exactly say that we’re friends anymore.
See in my world, when you’re going to do something radical, or you do something radical, if it impacts someone else, someone you care about, someone who is your f-r-i-e-n-d, then you give ’em a heads up.
Shoot them a text even.
Doesn’t have to be something scary like a phone call or a face-to-face.
A text.
Is not.
Hard to send.
So it makes me think about how this guy, this Joe, is not made of the stuff I thought he was.
Maybe none of us are.
Or we learn as we go.
As we fail.
As we fuck up, fuck people over, choose what matters.
I’ve had almost a year to reflect on how I could’ve done things different.
There are so many things I could’ve done differently then.
Now though? Now I think about my old friend Joe and I wonder what would happen if we ran into each other on the street.
What would Joe say?

“My friend Joe” by Julia on the 4

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Saturday October 6, 2018
5:57pm
5 minutes
His Hands
Mary Jane Nealon

My friend Joe became
my boyfriend Joe at the end of the 12th grade. I liked the way his arms looked while driving. I liked that he knew how to use the barbecue.
when I went to university I stayed with Joe even though I no longer wanted him.
One of the first days there I made eye contact with the coolest guy I had ever seen. His name was also Joe. I wanted this Joe instead. I wanted to know everything about him.
There were a couple others I started to like before I told the first Joe that we needed to break up. There were also a couple of crying episodes in my dorm room. Not me. Him. This was the same guy who knew how to use the barbecue.

“you are more than your drama” by Julia on her couch

By: Julia
Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Friday October 5, 2018
10:18pm
5 minutes
From a quote by Ram Dass

call me up in the middle of the night and question my integrity I double dog dare you. I’ll be the first to hold up my own mirror and accept responsability
cause I have gotten good at apologies and I have gotten good at slipping out of rooms unnoticed. you go ahead and pick up the phone to wield your insecurity at me and I will answer with grace manifest
manifesto
manifest
manifesto
manifest
I will stand calm in the rumble and dig my roots down deeper
you can believe whatever it is you would like
but I will always choose stillness in the face of it