“let it come through.” by Julia on the 99


Saturday April 29, 2017
12:26am
5 minutes
From a quote by Jackson Pollock

I have been swallowing words of wisdom in case it looks like I think too highly of myself. She never asked for what I thought but her eyes told me she could use it. We don’t have to speak if we can’t improve the silence. I learned that somewhere. Maybe my sister said it once. Maybe she heard it from a good book or a peace keeper. I am working on communicating without speaking. I let the people who need voice give voice. I am working on letting it come through with skin and smiles and sound effects

“let it come through.” by Julia on the 99

“When I’m stressed” by Julia on the 99


Friday April 28, 2017
6:14pm
5 minutes
Look Outside Pt. 1
Rory Frances


Gina: Eden, stop chewing on your hair. You’ll swallow a huge glob of it one day and then you’ll choke on it and die.
Eden: Mind your own business. Do I tell you what to do?
Gina: Yes. You do.
Eden: I mean with your life. I don’t tell you things you should be deciding for yourself.
Gina: You would if I had as gross as a habit as you do. Don’t you know how dirty your hair is?
Eden: Hair isn’t dirty at all, brainiack! It touches my head, that’s it!
Gina: And your hands, and your clothes, and the air filled with carcinogenic smokes!

“When I’m stressed” by Julia on the 99

“When I’m stressed” by Sasha at her desk


Friday April 28, 2017
2:28pm
5 minutes
Look Outside Pt 1
Rory Frances


I’ll smack your entitlement right out of your
mouth punch your smug smile from those tight lips.
I’ll do it with words and squinty eyes and I’ll do it
with the very fact that I am better than you
at everything. I won’t actually smack you or punch
you, come on you know I’m a pacifist. Come on, you know
I’m trying to get better. I’ll taser you with my goodness.
I’ll roll you a spliff of the best kind of care.
I’m able to get down like that, sweet nothing. I’m able,
oh yes. You, standing tall with those wide shoulders,
you’re used to “people like me” fawning over your jaw,
and your dimples. Nope. Not this time. Not this person.
I won’t apologize after the smoking and the smacking
and the punching and the nothing. I’ll sing you a
lullaby. I’ll walk away. I’ll turn back. I’ll say,
“You’re an asshole.”

“When I’m stressed” by Sasha at her desk

“an advanced degree in creative writing” by Sasha on her balcony


Thursday April 26, 2017
1:19pm
5 minutes
Big Magic
Elizabeth Gilbert


Sitting on her bed, the woman shoves
chocolate chip cookies into her mouth
one two three four five six seven.
She barely chews, inhaling the
sweet soft hardness, exhaling
the loneliness, the fatigue,
the face and the feet.
The woman has just been accepted
to an advanced creative writing program.
Three, in fact. She tastes the imposter.
She tastes the unlovable. She tastes
the big body big story big in a world
where she is only wanted if she is
small. She tastes the failure of the
places where she has not been accepted.
She catches herself. She sweeps crumbs from
the bedspread and walks to the bathroom.

“an advanced degree in creative writing” by Sasha on her balcony

“an advanced degree in creative writing” by Julia in the park


Thursday April 27, 2017
5:45pm
5 minutes
Big Magic
Elizabeth Gilbert


My mother always wanted to go to school but never believed she was the academic type. My father liked to tell her she was worthless on a daily basis so my mother didn’t believe she was much of anything. Once I watched him mash up the meatloaf she made and crumble it between his fingers until it was all on the floor. He smeared the sauce left on his hands across her forehead because he claimed it wasn’t warm enough. I watched my mother forget how to put on underwear the next morning because she couldn’t forget what he did. She couldn’t because nobody could.
I watched my mother model for me a woman who wanted so many things but got buried before she had time to even realize them.

“an advanced degree in creative writing” by Julia in the park

“There were times when nothing played back.” By Sasha on her porch


Wednesday April 25, 2017
4:14pm
5 minutes
What It Is
Lynda Barry


When I was younger I laughed
at the synchronicity of seasons
how the robin shows her cheeky
face in the hours
before the magnolias the camellias
the cherry blossoms

“Make space for your stories”
my almost husband smiles into my ear
He is referencing the leaning tower
of books on my bedside table
in my knapsack
on the coffee table
the earbuds in my ears while
I steam kale
walk to the market
chase away nightmares

“There were times when nothing played back.” By Sasha on her porch

“There were times when nothing played back.” by Julia at the VPL


Wednesday April 25, 2017
6:13pm
5 minutes
What It Is
Lynda Barry


My sister and I used to make up songs about jello and school and Days Of Our Lives. We’d improvise them with our neighbour and choose funny nicknames and put on terrible accents. I still remember my big one. I am proud of the word play. I am proud that at 9 I was already writing songs.
wiggily jiggily wiggily jiggily wiggily jiggily wiggily jiggily
Jello can be very jiggily
jello can be very wiggily
jello can be very very cool
jello can be all sorts of flavours
jello can be all sorts of colours
Ooooooooh–
(here’s where I bopped my sister on the head and told her not to take a solo because this was MY song.)
Strawberry, cherry
lemon, or lime,
jello can be very fruity
or even the pudding kind
wighily jiggily wiggily jiggily

(I didnt say the songs I was writing were good.)

“There were times when nothing played back.” by Julia at the VPL