“The healthiest things” by Sasha at Black River Farm


Friday July 25, 2014
9:43am
5 minutes
Food Rules
Michael Pollan


Next thing I know he’s baking me effing chocolate chip cookies! And he’s putting molasses in them. And brown butter. Like. Shut the front door, right? I know. I was losing my effing mind, Kel. Losing it. And these cookies? Better than your Mom’s. Better than those old Toll House kind. The best goddamn cookies I’m ever effing eaten. They are not the healthiest things… A whole cup of butter in there, a cup and a half of sugar. Holy shizama, but… Like, who even cares, you know? When something tastes that good? How am I supposed to leave this one? I practically proposed on the spot! I think he’s the one. Seriously. He has every Norah Jones album? Even her new one! I didn’t even know she had a new one!

“The six methods are:” by Sasha at Black River Farm


Thursday July 24, 2014
5:43pm
5 minutes
Ashtanga Yoga Primer
Baba Hari Das

1. Fall into the ground, without a sound. Pretend you always meant to be there. Nothing’s wrong. You’re like a bulb. You’re going to open. It’s going to be glorious, a bit painful, and glorious again.
2. Lean back. The air will catch you with her soft hands. You’ll wonder where you’re going, where you’ve been, why you’re still alone, still dizzy, still laughing.
3. Right or wrong, flying isn’t just for birds and airplanes. You fly. You catch a wave going West and you hang on and you go and you land where you’ve never been and you’re full.
4. Draw vines on your legs. Pen, marker, eyeliner – these all work well. Pencil might hurt a bit. Close your eyes and think about your grandmother’s hands. Look! You’re a tree!
5. The turkey gets you. Don’t forget that. The turkey gets how excited you are. She’s excited too, but for really different reasons.
6. Forgetting your own obsessions is the freest you will ever be of your legacy.

“I look at the sky recalling” by Sasha at her desk


Wednesday July 23, 2014
11:52am
5 minutes
A Memory Returns
Bobby Ferguson


I look at the sky recalling Jem’s face, beside mine, sharing one pillow like two chickens in the coop. His eyes are like the Big Dipper – sparkling and twinkling and telling stories without any words coming out. I go for walks in the forest by the old house, by the house with windows on all sides. Jem used to say he felt like he was in a fishbowl. “No one’s looking!” I’d say. We didn’t have neighbours. The only eyes on us were God’s.

“I’ve breathed the mountain air” by Sasha on her couch


Tuesday, July 22, 2014
11:42pm
5 minutes
I’ve Been Everywhere
Hank Snow



Let me start by saying, I’m terrible at this kind of thing. I’m terrible at saying what I mean and meaning what I say and… You’re the one that’s good with words. You’re the one who knows how to put thoughts together like a… shopping list. No – … I mean… When your mother left I wasn’t sure where my own damn bellybutton was. I wasn’t sure how to brush my teeth, or make a salami sandwich. I let you down, Tilly. I know I did. I’m – … I’m sorry.

“any kind of company” by Julia at her kitchen table


Tuesday July 29, 2014
4:37pm
5 minutes
wikipedia.org

She swept the living room floor for the third time that morning. She somehow kept stepping in sand, which she thought she had fully cleaned the day before. She put on The Dirty Projectors and made sure to press repeat every time Impregnable Question came on. It felt like the perfect song to listen as she was feeling alone, yet didn’t want to fall too far into a problematic state. This was after eating the raw cookie dough from the tube and drawing a sketch of a bat wearing a clown nose. Every time her phone rang, she leapt from her sprawled out on the floor position to see who it could be. Telemarketing usually. The occasional scam rewards program from Cruises R Us. She was desperate for any kind of company. Any kind that would require a conversation, the outpouring of her emotions and her opinions, and perhaps a hug that would last at least six seconds to ensure a proper connection was established.

“But we will judge you.” by Julia at her kitchen table


Monday July 28, 2014
11:40m
5 minutes
from www.winnipegpoetryslam.wordpress.com


She had a beautiful accent and I fell in love with her voice before I ever saw her face. I was lucky then. Oh I was so lucky my friends used to joke about me having a horse shoe jammed right up my ass. But the difference between me and some of those other lucky ones is that I know damn well how lucky I am. Maybe it was even just luck that the first time I got to listen to her it was at a poetry reading where she read the prose of her favourite poet. It’s luck when you get to hear something as intimate as a confession. That’s what I heard when she spoke and I could understand her. I could see her. I don’t think I ever saw anything after that that mattered as much as her.

“That really hurted!” by Julia at Gimli beach


Sunday, July 27, 2014
4:00pm
5 minutes
overheard at Gimli Beach


Well, I told him not to go into the water but he insisted. He was afraid of it for years so I guess I didn’t think I’d have to worry about it, then one day, or one instant, really, he got up the nerve, ran into the waves, and a big one came and smacked him in the belly.
Not life threatening stuff. He was fine in minutes, really. But he was shaken up for a bit, that’s for sure. He wouldn’t stop talking about how big it all felt. How he wasn’t sure if he could do it again today, but maybe the next time we came. I don’t know what changed his mind. Could have been just the ways of growing up-or it could have been that cute little thing who was playing with her dinosaur floaty. She might have lured him in with all her joy if I had to hazard a guess. I told him, Bobby, those waves are choppy do you see? Might not be the best for your first time so you have to be real careful. He said, Gramma, I know! I have two eyes in my head just like you do! Then he ran off and within seconds he was right back on the blanket with me rubbing his tummy.

“Destroy the evidence” by Julia on her couch


Saturday, July 26, 2014
3:20pm
5 minutes
Cards Against Humanity


Paper trail, burn it up, up in smoke, burn it up

-How’s your book coming?
-My what? I’m not writing a book.
-But I saw your receipts. The ones from the coffee shops.
-Well since when do lattes mean I’m writing a book?
-I know you don’t actually drink the coffee.
-Yes I do!
-No you just like the way it looks beside your laptop. That and I know you don’t write anywhere else.
-That’s not true. I write. I write at parks sometimes.
-Why are you hiding it, you never keep these things a secret.
-Oh my god, fine, it’s about you. Okay? Happy?
-You’re lying.
-What do you want, exactly?
-I just want to know what you’re working on. It seems very sneaky all of a sudden and it makes me anxious. It makes me anxious thinking about what it is you could be doing.
-I told you, it’s about you.

“The healthiest things” by Julia at Gertrude Park


Friday July 25, 2014
11:09am
5 minutes
Food Rules
Michael Pollan


Darlin’ I’m slippin’. I’ve been feelin’ off these days, you know? Can’t help myself from makin’ tiny trips to the garage. I hid all kinds of bottles in there, cause you know your mother, she was always all over me for bein’ thirsty. One, you know, I don’t know how I did it, but I found it way up on the top shelf there right by the trophies. Almost fell right off, I had to climb so high. And I brought that one down, and it took me a minute, but by the time I got my footin’ I noticed it was actually empty. Why I was keepin’ an empty bottle so out of reach is beyond me, but that’s the problem. If I don’t even remember why I was hidin’ certain things, then maybe I also have more than I thought. More bottles on top shelves. More uncovered memories I at some point in my life tried very hard to bury. But guess what the truth is. I haven’t once had a sip yet. I’ve been starin’ at those bottles but that doesn’t mean I’ve been hittin’ them. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to though..

“The six methods are:” by Julia at MAKE coffee+stuff


Thursday July 24, 2014 at MAKE
1:55pm
5 minutes
Ashtanga Yoga Primer
Baba Hari Das

Oh for coping? I guess I have some experience. I usually don’t talk about them with anyone though. I don’t like sharing that stuff in case anyone finds it disturbing or whatever. TMI, maybe? I usually just avoid people during the coping period all together.
But okay. I could list them out, if that’s what you need? If you think it’ll help?
Number one…I’m suddenly acutely aware of myself. And my sadness. Because I’m still struggling with these and I’m the one who originated them. Sorry. Number one: Scream. It sounds easy, but it’s different than just letting sound out at a high volume. It’s a deep one. It’s guttural, it’s blood curdling, it’s hopeless and hopeful at the same time. And it lasts for at least 90 seconds. I do this one first to let it all out. Or try to.
Number two: find a sore spot on your body – a knot, a bruise, a tight muscle, and dig into it. With anything you want, but usually I use my elbows. You want something very pointy. Number three: Finish an entire container of peanut butter. Don’t move from your spot until it’s completely gone, lid licked. I don’t know why this one helps but it does. Maybe because you need something to stick to your bones once you’ve released all the unwanted parts. Number four: put on a blindfold and walk around your house until you know it by touch. Number five: Paint your mirror around your face. Turn it into something like a face cut out character you’d see at a carnival. Number six: floss.

“I look at the sky recalling” by Julia at MAKE coffee+stuff


Wednesday July 23, 2014 at MAKE
3:21pm
5 minutes
A Memory Returns
Bobby Ferguson


It was my first sip of coffee and I remember thinking it was so bitter I couldn’t see straight. Why anyone would ever drink that stuff was beyond me. I saw all the adults drinking it and they seemed to be having a great time. But I was never interested much in the smell, or the aftertaste, or the colour of teeth it somehow also transformed. I took a second sip to show I was big, I guess. Bigger than I was feeling. I wanted to fit in, I wanted them to stop thinking they needed to spell controversial words around me. I was a very good speller anyway. It just made them look stupid if I’m being honest. I wanted to shout from the tiny kid’s table that felt like it was a mile away from all the fun that I could understand what they were saying; that I could follow along and offer an opinion every now and again if they’d let me. So I took another sip and swallowed down the fuzz that formed on my tongue when I drank the stuff. I could feel my head start to get a bit light and I remember thinking, huh, this stuff isn’t so bad once you get past all the gross parts. Each sip brought me closer to the adults in the room thinking I was beneath them just because I was younger. Each sip made me feel all the more alive.
I still don’t drink it. I thought I might be the type to take it up after all, but I wasn’t. Turns out I didn’t need to do something I didn’t like to make me feel big.

“I’ve breathed the mountain air” by Julia on her couch


Tuesday, July 22, 2014
10:49pm
5 minutes
I’ve Been Everywhere
Hank Snow



I’ve been so angry. I have been, it’s been a mercury is rising sort of thing, and I swear, that if the real me doesn’t happen, I’ll be your worst nightmare. I’ve been that way. Blinded sight, twisted light, couldn’t write that way. Where the only thing that calms me is the fight, that way. I couldn’t control it, I wouldn’t, shouldn’t, didn’t but I sold it. And it’s too late to try and get on its level just to scold it. It’s out of me and gone, the anger, the angry, the anger, the angry, the anger in me. That one we’ve seen. That thing I’ve been.

“That’s very interesting” by Julia on her couch


Monday, July 21, 2014
11:18pm
5 minutes
Overheard at ideal coffee


She was a mad hatter
her feelings didn’t matter
she was a mad a mad a
and when she danced
the world was romanced
but she didn’t believe it yet
her feelings didn’t matter
she was a mad hatter
a mad, a mad was, a mad was
He always did stray
When she looked the other way
His mask a good looking one
And they would talk
But not have much to say
their costume a convincing one
She was a batter
her feelings didn’t matter
she was a bat a bat a
And when she sang
The whole world came
but she didn’t know how to believe it yet
He always did lie
It was his alibi:
He really just enjoyed telling it.

“That’s very interesting” by Sasha at ideal coffee


Monday, July 21, 2014
4:23pm at ideal coffee
5 minutes
Overheard at ideal coffee


“That’s very interesting” is Charles’ favourite thing to say. It’s his go to. I call him on it. “I have no idea what you mean when you say that, Charles! “Interesting” has to be the least descriptive word that there is!” He smiles, like he knows something that I don’t. “You’re overcomplicating it, honey,” he says. When Charles and I first met, I thought he was an asshole. That’s usually how it goes with the men I date. When I meet them I think that they’re assholes and then something flips and I’m in love. I’m not in love with Charles, but he fascinates me. He’s my Toronto boyfriend. I have Ken in Hamilton. It’s nice. It helps me focus. Ken doesn’t, the sex does. I should be specific about that. “Get specific!” says Ken, biting my toes. Charles weighs about double Ken, but Ken is taller. It balances out.

“The Psych Ward” by Sasha on the Queen Streetcar going East


Sunday, July 20, 2014
5:12pm
5 minutes
from a Winnipeg Fringe Festival Program


When I made it to the edge I let me legs flop over.
It was a far drop down.
It was a far drop down.
When I made it to the edge I imagined jumping…
But I didn’t.
Don’t worry.
I didn’t.
The sun was starting to set,
which is always a magical time,
which is always when I don’t feel lonely.

When I sit there at the edge,
I am tired.
I am tired from a lifetime of wishing I was someone that I’m not.
Do you do that too?
I am a master of pretending.
I am a master of trying too hard.
I’m a professional poser.
And now,
I’m sitting at the edge and I’m wondering.
I’m leaning too far forward,
Catching myself…
Leaning back.

I am at the edge,
I am looking over and seeing clouds, mountains, seagull wings, whispers of the changing seasons, phone numbers, mailboxes, a jeep, my mother’s engagement ring.

“No, that was so wide!” by Sasha on her couch


Saturday, July 19, 2014
5:39pm
5 minutes
overheard a Grand Beach


No! It was this big, Mama! It was really this huge! Franklin, stop it! That’s how big it was! I’m the one that held it so you don’t even know! FRANKLIN SHUT UP! I’m telling Mama. MAMA! FRANKLIN! Mama! Franklin is saying that I didn’t know how big the kitten was! That is was smaller! It was a Maine Coon cat! That’s what Aunty said! A Maine Coon! They’re the size of a dog! Even when they’re babies! That’s the truth. Mama? Listen to me! I’m talking to you! Can we can a Maine Coon? Papa won’t even notice that it’s not a dog. He won’t sneeze or have itchy eyes or anything.

“YOU A LIAR” by Sasha in her garden


Friday, July 18, 2014
11:34pm
5 minutes
overheard on queen st west


You a liar, Steve! You a friggen liar! I’m tired of it! Not like it’s big lies all the time! It’s the lil’ ones that are the worst! All the damn friggen time! An’ I see it, you know. I see it on your face! Like a sign. Like a sign saying “I’M LYIN’!” I think about how you really don’t deserve a friend like me, Steve. I’m “enabling” you. That’s what Jenni says. She says every time I let you use my ID and borrow my car and take Huckle for a walk that I’m basically enabling you. An’… I think she jus’ might be right! I wish she weren’! I wish it! We known eachother a long time, Steve, an’ I put up with a lotta what you do in this life. I think I’ve had it. I think we need to take a bitta space from being friends, Steve. I think you shouldn’ come fishin’. I think you should jus’ stay here and think about how you can be a better guy.

“The Psych Ward” by Julia at the Winnipeg Fringe Tent


Sunday, July 20, 2014
5:08pm
5 minutes
from a Winnipeg Fringe Festival Program


I didn’t say no. I didn’t say yes. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
Where did you go? Why did you leave? You’re here now. I see you. I’m happy you’re back.
I didn’t say hello. I didn’t say goodbye. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
What can I do? What can I say? I’m here now. I see you. I’m with you once again.
I didn’t say I’m sorry. I didn’t say I wasn’t. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
Which way is up? Which way is down? You’re here now. You see me. We’re together for a while.
I didn’t say baby. I didn’t say friend. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
When can you take me? Where can we hide? We’re here now. We see it. We’re a we like we were.
I didn’t say stay. I didn’t say go. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
Where did you go? Why did you leave? You’re here now. I see you. I’m happy. You’re back.
I didn’t say please. I didn’t say thank you. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
We’re not through, yet, are we? We’re not just July? I’m here now. You see me. With you once again.

“No, that was so wide!” by Julia at Grand beach


Saturday, July 19, 2014
5:28pm
5 minutes
overheard a Grand Beach


So those two were shooting a soccer ball, right? Right at us, no less. But we weren’t worried, obviously, cause they were kids, you know? Just two little rug rats trying to have fun. But thennnnnn, I’m telling you, it all got weird. Cause Madelyn is laying beside me and she has no idea what could happen, and suddenly, without warning, that damn soccer ball comes flying right at us. Right at Maddy! And Mad’s asleep cause that woman can sleep through a tsunami, knock on wood. She has no idea it’s coming, but I know she’s still sensitive from that jaw surgery she just had. Okay, okay, you got me, it was still sensitive because of the lip injections she had over the weekend. She was trying not to tell anyone about it because she was worried people would start calling her names or saying she was fake. You know how many women get lip injections? More than you would even know, and you wouldn’t even know this one if I didn’t open up my big ass mouth just to tell you my wife’s little secrets. Anyway! So I dive right?

“YOU A LIAR” by Julia on her couch


Friday, July 18, 2014
11:32pm
5 minutes
overheard on queen st west


OH I HAVE HAD SO MUCH A YOU THAT IT IS ENOUGH NOW. ENOUGH, NOW, ADRIAN. WHY YOU GOTTA BE SO LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME, HUH? NOBODY EVER EVEN TAUGHT YOU HOW TO ACT, HUH, ADRIAN? ENOUGH BECAUSE IT HURTS MY HEART AND ENOUGH BECAUSE IT HURTS MY EVERYTHING ELSE EVEN MORE, ADRIAN. YOU HAVE BEEN A BAD PERSON. BAD LIKE THE WORST WEATHER. BAD LIKE THE RAIN, ADRIAN. YOU A LIAR. YOU A LIAR AND NOW I KNOW IT AND NOW EVERYBODY KNOWS IT. WHY COULDN’T YOU BE GOOD? WHY DID YOU MAKE ME BELIEVE YOU WERE GOOD WHEN YOU NEVER COULD BE GOOD. NOT EVER. YOU LIED. YOU A LIAR. YOU A LIAR TO ME. WHEN I FIRST SAW YOU I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY ONLY. AND NOW. AND NOW I AM FIGHTING TO BE ALIVE WITHOUT THE YOU I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO BE. SO NOW I AM DONE. I AM SORRY BUT I AM NO MORE OF WHAT YOU THOUGHT I WAS. I WAS DIFFERENT BEFORE BUT NOW I AM DIFFERENT FROM THAT TOO, ADRIAN. YOU SHOULD HAVE GIVEN ME THE LOVE THAT I WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE. YOU SHOULD NOT A LIED TO ME. REMEMBER WHEN I PROMISED YOU I WOULD BE YOURS? YOU DON’T EVEN REMEMBER THAT, DO YOU ADRIAN? I PROMISED AND I AM NOT A LIAR, YOU A LIAR. YOU THE ONE THAT MAKES ME WISH I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE. IT IS ENOUGH NOW, ADRIAN. I WANT YOU TO BE SORRY. I WANT A SORRY FROM YOUR LIPS. CAN YOU PLEASE TRY TO BE SORRY? CAN YOU PLEASE TRY TO SEE MY HURT NOW THAT YOU GAVE UP ON ME AND YOU TOGETHER?

“September I’ll remember” by Sasha in her kitchen


Thursday, July 17, 2014
9:16pm
5 minutes
April Come She Will
Simon And Garfunkel



In September I’ll remember the wild call of your heart to mine.
In September I’ll remember avoiding your phone call like mono kisses.
In September I’ll remember myself, and you, braiding grass and drinking warm beer from cans.
In September I’ll remember when you told me and how we cried and how you looked younger than the day you were born.
In September I’ll remember when we decided to have sex and how salty it was and how gentle you were and how happy I was to have escaped the mystery.
In September I’ll remember meeting Jer, your first boyfriend, the one who taught you everything you know about being with a man, and I’ll remember how he looked me up and down and said I was a “fairy queen”.
In September I’ll remember visiting you in Montreal and eating too much salami and laughing til I peed and I took off my undies and threw them in the woods.

“mostly tiny sungrazing comets” by Sasha at her desk


Wednesday, July 16, 2014
11:48pm
5 minutes
from the Sun Wikipedia page


When we barbecue on the porch in the rain, it reminds me of being ten on the Island. My grandmother would send my sister and I bus tickets. They’d come the week before we were set to leave. There’d be handdrawn postcard with the three of us and her husky, Farley. She’d meet us at the ferry dock, raspberries and dark chocolate in her hands. She’d kiss us on the mouth and hold us at arms length to take in each of the changes. “Nadine, you’ve got an extra freckle on your cheek!” “Odessa, you’re one eighth of an inch taller!” Farley would lick our toes as we giggled and shook our heads. She’d leave her old station wagon on the other side, and when we piled into the back there’d always be a fresh beach towel and a peach for each of us. We’d drive, windows down, Bruce Cockburn on the tape deck, until we arrived at her cottage by the sea.

“Submit where you can” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Tuesday July 15, 2014
12:35am
5 minutes
from a scrap paper

At “Surf N’ Snurf” Internet Cafe the owner is Jorge. He makes this clucking sound and I’m disoriented. I don’t know what time it is. I don’t even remember whether my mother has green eyes or brown. Jorge only takes cash for the candy bars. “Two dollars!” Can’t give him my credit card. Can’t give anyone that. Finding too many treasures on The eBay. Too many treasures down there. What would you do if you found a first edition Jose Delgado baseball card on there? Huh? I mean, my hands were tied, man! “Two dollars!” Says Jorge when I get hungry. “Justa bag of Miss Vicky’s!” I say, and it’s louder than I mean it to be. I haven’t spoken in awhile. I forget how strong I am. That’s nice.

“Feed your creative juices” by Sasha on her bed


Monday, July 14, 2014
6:23pm
5 minutes
from a pencil case


You’re a dick. I love you, but you’re a huge asshole dick. Sorry. I’m not sorry. I am but I’m… not. You come in here and you haven’t shaved so you know I’m going to be overwhelmingly attracted to you and you smell like pinecones and tobacco so really? Actually? Fuck you.

And then? Then, you have the nerve to pull out a guitar? Nope. Sorry. Not gonna fall for that.

We’ve been here, Scott. We’ve been down this road. It didn’t work. Remember? You called me a “cow” and I called you a… dick. Wow. Nothing’s changed. Or, it has, but… I haven’t. Damn it! I have! I have changed! I’m so much more… well adjusted. This city has a way of really bringing out the worst in people, have you noticed that?

“they are content with burning my books” by Sasha at the International Plaza Hotel


Sunday, July 13, 2014
5:14pm
5 minutes
Freud, 1938, Vienna
Lou Lipsitz



See, my Dad isn’t the kind of guy who’ll kiss you on the forehead and tell you that he loves you. That’s just not who he is. He’s more slap you on the ass and call you a “shit”. He was raised my an Army General. He’d moved fifteen times before he was eighteen. It does something to you, moving so much. I remember when I graduated from High School and he and my Mom came down from Georgia. “Well son, you’ve gotten yourself this far. Don’t mess it up now…” he said. My Mom brought me flowers and there was a cheque for five hundred dollars in a card that she’d signed for both of them.

“September I’ll remember” by Julia on her couch


Thursday, July 17, 2014
9:10pm
5 minutes
April Come She Will
Simon And Garfunkel



Having met you that one day, it uh, it really rocked me. It was like meeting the moon. Does that make..I’m just. I’m trying to sound honest, I guess. Or uh, expressive. You made me realize how closed off I’d been. I’m, I know you’re with someone, so I’m not, you know, I don’t want you to think that I..I’m just. Maybe you were right. Can barely get a thought out. I think you made a good point. And, you know, maybe you were right about me. I don’t know if I had uh, met you the day before or the day after if I would feel the same way I do now..Maybe I wouldn’t have been able to hear you at all if it, uh, were, you know, in any other minute than when it was. Your words. They were buzzing, uh, you know sort of resonating I guess, with my whole. Yeah. I. Thank you. I am so bad at this. Wow. I’m trying not to sound like the biggest idiot and yet that’s all I seem to be able to do. I’m glad it happened. Meeting you. I really am.

“Hear all year” by Sasha at the International Plaza Hotel


Saturday July 12, 2014
6:25pm
5 minutes
from a banner at Winnipeg Folk Fest

I love the three blonde hairs on each of my big toes,
Marking the place where the under meets the world.
I love the strength of my calves,
Pedalling me from West to East,
Leading me to you,
and to God,
and to the lavender.
I love the width of my hips,
perfect for leaning,
perfect for holding,
perfect for stretching and carrying.
I love the round of my belly,
full of abundance,
full of arugula salad
and the legacy of the women that have come before.
I love the small hands,
able to stretch across piano keys,
across keyboard keys,
able to hold a pen like none other,
able to alchemize stories into gold.

“Ha parlato troppo” by Sasha at the International Plaza Hotel


Friday July 11, 2014
12:33am
5 minutes
overheard on Corydon

You call me and you’re breathless
You’re sobbing
You’re hiccuping.
I say,
“Breath Betsy, breath…”
And you try to listen
But it’s hard.
You tell me that they’ve been killed
the little girls you nanny
five and nine
brown hair in braids you tied.
I say,
“Breath Betsy…”
And you try.
“They haven’t found who did it…”
You repeat
as if it might help.
“Come over,” I say,
And you silently decline.
You’d been there five hours earlier
And then their mother had come home
had forgotten something at the grocery store
“Zucchini,” you say.
She’d gone out to get it
Leaving the girls alone.
She’d done it before.
When she got back
the house was quiet.

“mostly tiny sungrazing comets” by Julia on her couch


Wednesday, July 16, 2014
11:46pm
5 minutes
from the Sun Wikipedia page


And we lay there in the grass, picking bushels of it out of the earth to sniff them, or to play them like flutes in the middle of the night. We waited for the sun to pop up again. We were waiting on its predictable rotation. The way we wait for a mother’s call, a friend’s best wishes when we’re near the death of someone close. We wait in the stillness gazing up at the sky, wishing for the night to retire gracefully to its bed so we could watch the warming of the sky take over. And we lay there in the grass, picking moments to kiss each others’ hands and necks and lips. We played those moments over and over again in our heads, recognizing the opportune times to touch one another not out of obligation but out of necessity. The orange was peeking up from beneath a distant hill as we wished.

“Submit where you can” by Julia on her bed


Tuesday July 15, 2014
12:33am
5 minutes
from a scrap paper

Lady at the counter said she saw me slip the lipchap into my bag and I told her, I said, no that wasn’t me, I don’t steal. And she cocked her head to the side all judgy and she said that she knew what she saw and that liars are the worst kind of thieves. I said, no, maybe you need glasses or something, but it wasn’t me, and i didn’t do what you think you saw me do. So I tried to walk out because this lady was just sitting there acting all tough, and trying to intimidate me. And then, the next thing I know, she’s got her hand on my shoulder and she’s firmly pressing in. I was like, look lady, I don’t want any trouble. And she said, well if you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me search your bag. And I hated her even more then because it wasn’t her right to do that, and I knew it. But I didn’t want her to win, so I threw my bag onto the ground. Make her work for it, I thought. Make that damn lady bend over and throw her back out just trying to prove a point. Teach her something today, maybe. Then she grabs my bag and dumps it on the ground. Just everything comes pouring out and I’m standing there hunched over, watching all my stuff fly. I know it’s in here, she said while she emptied it. I know I saw you put the damn thing in.

“Feed your creative juices” by Julia on her couch


Monday, July 14, 2014
11:43pm
5 minutes
from a pencil case


First things first-hi, how are you, don’t answer that, are you well, don’t answer that. Second things second-did you return that dvd to that damn store that is always trying to take our life savings, don’t answer that. Seconds things should maybe be first things. Whatever. Hi. How are you? Respect, respect. Did you-okay, sorry. I’m a nag. I was born that way. I have a lot of questions, mostly about things I suspect you’ve failed to do so asking really doesn’t change anything, but god, yes, I want it to. I was born that way! It’s in my blood, my ingrown hairs– Well, if I had ingrown hairs. I know what you’re going to say, blah blah, nobody will want to marry me if I have scars all on my arms, but I don’t have ingrown hairs because those things, those itty bitty life problems are now solved because I wouldn’t settle for leaving them where they belong. I am acutely aware that I have nagged my ingrown hairs so much so that–hi. Hi! I’m sorry. First things first! Rewind! Hi. I’ve missed you. Did you clean the litter box? OH MY GOD. WHO AM I. Don’t answer that.

“they are content with burning my books” by Julia on her couch


Sunday, July 13, 2014
4:42pm
5 minutes
Freud, 1938, Vienna
Lou Lipsitz



So I come home (hard day), the radio’s blasting (of course it is), and Jeremiah is sitting cross-legged on the cold linoleum (of course he is) surrounded by a perfectly stacked circle of all my books. I stand there in the doorway (leaning) just looking at him (confused), while he hums the alphabet song (leaving out J and S, I can only assume), and touches each book as if for the very first time. He’s deciding (magically) which ones he’ll discard (burn) at the final moment (3:33pm), while I question every single reason (mole, laugh, orgasm) why I’m still with him.

“Hear all year” by Julia at Burts Hill Provincial Park


Saturday July 12, 2014
5:21pm
5 minutes
from a banner at Winnipeg Folk Fest

That’s what they want you to say. They want you to say, no problem, no worries, it’s all good, blah blah blah. But really they’re right in the middle of taking advantage of you when they get you to utter anything like those stupid things they’re banking on. It’s like a weird tribe or cult that they obviously have training in and are therefore prepared for whatever answer you give, but I’m telling you, from experience or whatever, that you don’t have to feel tricked or bullied. Don’t let them get in your head and remember what you did when you were a kid and you got asked point blank if it was you who stole grandma’s perfume out of the drawer. Try and remember that exact response. The look of shock and maybe hurt that someone could even think of doing something so awful to your dear dear grandma, then the no that says, if you don’t find who did this, I will. That’s what I need you to summon from your bones cause I know you didn’t throw that feeling away. I know you still have it living inside of you for times like these. Don’t get soft and give in. I don’t want you running down the stairs crying cause the guilt of actually stealing her perfume made you feel so bad that you had to confess. There’s no room for that here, understand?

“I am not sure at all” by Sasha in her garden


Thursday July 10, 2014
8:34pm
5 minutes
from a quote by Erica Jong

You think you’re so cool with your street art and your tattoos and your ironic name. “Joan”. Your parents didn’t know that you were going to get that haircut, okay. They didn’t. When you were a baby they probably thought that “Joan” was a sophisticated, pant-suit kinda name. They definitely didn’t think about the fact that, twenty three years in the future, you were going to take MDMA like calcium, and forget the difference between “high” and “low”. I’m sorry, I know I’m being aggressive, but… I’m so fucking angry at you! You come in and you say, “Americano,” but I know what you really mean is, “I’m better than you.” And, you are. Or, your art is. How street art can be in a gallery, earning you sixty G’s a year is really beyond me, but… So are a lot of things. Joan. Next time, say “please” or “thank you” or chuck a quarter in the tip jar. Please. Thanks. Oh, and my name is Andy. Like, Warhol.

“I watch a news clip of” by Sasha in her garden


Wednesday July 9, 2014
9:02pm
5 minutes
We Should Do Something
Laurel Leigh


I watch the news clip again and again and I can’t believe he said it and I can’t believe it’s real.

“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“How sure?”
“I went to the fucking doctor.”
Silence.

She’s crying and he’s on the other side of the road, wringing his hands, hanging his head, shuffling his feet.

“Rebecca, you’ve gotten yourself into a very delicate position…”
There are other ways I can think of putting it. There are others ways I can think of. There are other ways that a man can turn away, can run, can forget to return your phone calls or your iPhone charger.

“I’m sorry. We should’ve been more careful…” Is what he says.
I’m drowning.

“Why don’t you meet me at Frans for breakfast and we can talk this out in person?” He’s whispering, which means she’s close by.
“No I will not fucking eat pancakes while you tell me to get an abortion!” I scream and I feel his silence like a knife in my ribs. I hang up the phone.

I call my mother.

“Accountants, Tax Consultants” by Sasha on her couch


Tuesday, July 8, 2014
11:12pm
5 minutes
from a Monahan and Associates sign


“You’re gonna inherit this hellhole you know,” my sister says. She’s sipping on a coffee, so her breath reeks. “Thanks for that. That’s really helpful right now,” I hiss. It’s tax season. We’re there, at the family business, helping our mother and father with filing and sorting. Simple. We’ve taken the day off of school. We’ve done this since we were able to read. My mother would call the office early in the morning, “Bobby and Imogen Fernandes are unwell today,” we’d roll our eyes and eat our Cheerios. My father calls to me from his desk, “Bobby! Bring me the stapler!” I do and I notice, for the first time, that he’s an old man. It seems to have happened in a blink – one moment he was the strong man lifting me from the cradle of the tree branches when I was too afraid to jump and the next he’s wrinkled and bald, smelling of mothballs and pipe smoke.

“Parking available at the rear” by Sasha at her desk


Monday, July 7, 2014
12:54am
5 minutes
from a window sign


He wears red sandals, made of leather, and his are trimmed and tidy. You wouldn’t know that he spends most of his time barefoot, in the gardens of the Raj. His robes are often muddy, caked with work, with earth, but not today. He wears loose-fitting linen pants and a long chemise. He smiles often, especially at you. You go to him. You say, “Uncle, I’m lost.” He takes your hands and he leads you to the roses. You spend hours there, fingering the petals and kissing the thorns.

“Ha parlato troppo” by Julia at her table


Friday July 11, 2014
10:33pm
5 minutes
overheard on Corydon

I haven’t told him yet
I’m waiting for the one and only right moment
And when I do I know that he will understand
That life is full of promises that you don’t forget
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah yeah yeah
Life
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah yeah yeah
Opened up the door to a secret place
I know that if I stayed I’d have to keep it that way
A hundred lies and cover ups on every day
Cause if I didn’t know any better then I would say
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah yeah yeah
life
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah yeah yeah

“I am not sure at all” by Julia at Dufferin Grove Park


Thursday July 10, 2014
6:34pm
5 minutes
from a quote by Erica Jong

From your shaky hand on my shoulder, marking the birthmark we lovingly call “Africa”, I can feel what you want even if it’s gentle and smooth. The touch, from another, in any shape or form always reaches the insides more than we think they will. You tell me you’re here now and that you will be here tomorrow. I love you for that, and for that alone if I didn’t already love you for all your other things. Your skin on my skin makes me feel rare and luminous and open and strong. You look me up and down and you say, “your beauty.” And you mean it. And somehow in this shared circumstance “your beauty” is better than “you’re beautiful” because you don’t think before you say it, and it comes from your truth place.

“I watch a news clip of” by Julia at Jessica’s kitchen table


Wednesday July 9, 2014
8:43pm
5 minutes
We Should Do Something
Laurel Leigh


On the radio there is a big discussion about will we go to war or won’t we
I sit on the bathroom floor with a towel over my head and a stick of beef jerky in my mouth
I haven’t spoken to you in days
I haven’t spoken to anyone in weeks
The radio man plays the same songs and the same commercials and the same sound effects
He asks us about our days but doesn’t wait for a response
He asks us about our fears but
doesn’t give us a chance to answer
I haven’t spoken to you in days
I haven’t spoken to anyone in weeks
The war is on the war is off
I sit on the bathroom floor just thinking about it all.

“Accountants, Tax Consultants” by Julia on Jessica’s couch


Tuesday, July 8, 2014
5:19pm
5 minutes
from a Monahan and Associates sign


-Okay so Ruby called and she wants to know if you want those “files” sent over to the office, or straight to your house.
-Tell her not to phone here anymore.
-I can’t really do that.
-Well don’t answer the phone when she calls then.
-She’s calling from so many different numbers. I don’t have all of them memorized.
-Okay well the next time Ruby calls, just tell her you’ll pass on the message, but don’t actually pass on the message.
-Okay.
-Okay. What numbers has she been calling from?
-Area codes?
-Yes.
-Umm..519, 647, 204
-Really? 204?
-Just the once. That one was a desperate sounding one.
-Huh.
-Should I go back to my desk now?

“Parking available at the rear” by Julia on Jessica’s couch


Monday, July 7, 2014
12:02am
5 minutes
from a window sign


I don’t know if you know this, but I just got my license so I am free now and I can ride.
I can be the party bus.
I can be the one you call. Don’t drink and drive! So if you want to, I’ll take you there.
I’ll go anywhere. Just as long as I can get out of the house. It’s stuffy inside. It feels like the walls are made of rock crumble and at any moment it could come crashing down on me, burying me alive in all the rubble.
My mother is a sweetheart. She watches TV all day and tells me to heat up the carrots for dinner.
Nobody likes cooked carrots around here. Not even her. But she doesn’t know what else to feed me and she’s scared if she doesn’t I’ll go blind.
I heat up the carrots and put them on her TV tray beside the couch. She doesn’t even sniff them. They sit there all night. I don’t eat mine either so the house smells like warm mushy carrot and I don’t know if she knows this, but it’s not helping her case against my future blindness.
I want to get out and just drive along the highway.
I want to roll the windows down and breathe in the fresh freedom that I’ve been so hopeful for.
I want to drive away and never come back.
My mother is a sweetheart, but she won’t even know I’m gone.

“I don’t buy Made In China,” by Julia on Jessica’s couch


Sunday, July 6, 2014
5:19pm
5 minutes
http://www.elephantjounral.com


I buy nice things and only nice things
I buy something new every day
every day
I buy nice trinkets
I buy nice glass
I buy something new every week
every week
My toenails are always done up with style
I paint them a new colour every time I yawn
I buy nail polish every day, every day
I buy something new every week
I won’t buy something that was owned from somebody else first
I won’t accept hand-me-downs
I don’t even mind if things aren’t on sale
I don’t even mind
My house is decorated with beige and gold
I don’t hang things on the walls that look cheap
The light fixtures are ornate
The bathroom sink is a pearl
I don’t even live there
I live at the shops
I buy something new every day
I buy nice things and only nice things
I buy something new so I can feel good
I buy something new so I never feel old
I buy something new so I can boast
I buy something new because it’s the only thing I’m good at

“Who names herself “Samantha”” by Julia at Assiniboine Park


Saturday, July 5, 2014
5:33pm
5 minutes
vulture.com


It was a gift from her father, naming all the pretty things he loved. Didn’t give her the name specifically, but didn’t take it away either. His name was Sam and he was a soul you couldn’t help but love. A lot of sweetness in that man. And then when his baby girl was born, we knew. We all knew: She would be an extension. She would be a reminder. He didn’t live long into her life. We all thought he’d have more time. One day he mentioned that he could feel pain in his bones; that they felt hollow. It was a sign, and we knew to listen, but we didn’t want to stop him from living. She, the little pretty thing, was a spitting image. Close ones called her Sam when they were feeling his presence in the room. She’d respond with a lightness in her face. She was lifted. And we made sure to tell her everyday that Daddy would have been so happy to know you and thank you for reminding us that he’s still here.
It was hard at first hearing the name and not seeing his face. But somehow over time, we managed to look past it without looking through her.

“I don’t buy Made In China,” by Sasha at Lit on Roncesvalles


Sunday, July 6, 2014
4:27pm at Lit Espresso Bar
5 minutes
http://www.elephantjounral.com


It’s okay to love cake and spirituality. It’s okay to sing really loud when riding your bike but not when walking – one’s fleeting and one’s slow. I get it. It’s okay that you visit churches after dark and that you steal a candle, half burnt, heavy with a strangers prayer. It’s okay that even at the family reunion you feel lonely – surrounded by people who share your blood but not your ideals surrounding karma or your beliefs about pugs. It’s so right that when paint your eyelids with turquoise glitter, it’s an homage to your grandmother. When I hear you say, “I don’t buy Made In China,” I don’t think that you’re righteous, I think that you have convictions and that they’re gorgeous.

“Who names herself “Samantha”” by Sasha at Tarragon Theatre


Saturday, July 5, 2014 at Tarragon Theatre
10:14pm
5 minutes
vulture.com


We were walking down Palmerston and a memory hit me like a meteor, hit me right in the forehead. I was afraid that you might see me bleeding, or that you might know what I’m thinking so I said, “Oh shit! I’m late for… a thing! With… my dog!” “You have a dog?” you said, blinking lots and looking sweet and baby-like. “Yup!” And, I ran away. I ran back the way we came and when I got to Bloor St. my phone was ringing. It was you. “Hi?” I said, out of breath. “What happened?” You asked, filled with risk and love and maybe a two-tiered popsicle. “I just… I got hit and I couldn’t keep going and I didn’t want to subject you to neurosis or tears or needing to stop and sit on the curb…” Now, I was crying. “Where are you?” You said. “Near the library,” I replied, my bum hitting the pavement, my shoes on the sewer grate.

“100th Birthday Party” by Sasha on her couch


Friday, July 4, 2014
1:12am
5 minutes
A poster at Cafe D’Amour

He stood with his arms open in the lavender field. He forgot about his sore throat from shouting along to the music, his blue toenail (stepped on by a cow), his own impending mortality. He closed his eyes and tilted his head up, towards the clouds, towards the moon, towards the sun, towards where he was going and where he came from. He felt tears. He felt the growing gap of here and there, where he’d been and where we are all going. He heard faint calls, his name, his place. He fell backwards, gently, slowly, it’s possible. He opened his eyes.

“100th Birthday Party” by Julia in her bed


Friday, July 4, 2014
2:12am
5 minutes
a poster at Cafe D’amour


A hundred days even seems longer than a hundred years. I mean, I know it’s obviously not longer. I know that. But it feels easier to comprehend, to grasp, maybe. If I have to explain I’d say because a hundred years doesn’t even seem to exist at all, therefore in comparison to something that does exist (100 days), it seems like less. You know,cause ghosts are infinitely less human than humans–right? If this doesn’t make sense, I apologize. I used to be so good with expression and communication. I guess now that I’ve been doing this for a hundred years…whoops…there I go, proving my point even there! 100 years in declarations, in hyperbole, does not exist at all–the listener understands it and is not annoyed by it as its usage is wildly celebrated, therefore proving that it’s not real. It’s the forever amount of time. It’s infinity. From here to there-from now to 100 years.

“a few pieces of furniture” by Julia at Cafe D’amour


Thursday, July 3, 2014
2:22pm at Cafe D’Amour
5 minutes
Design UK
Max Fraser


You know it was hard for her, cause she had to fast, but my sister was saying that the colonoscopy results showed nothing. Yes. She’s really starting to slide. We’re not sure what this is, if it’s part of her cancer condition-you know, we keep having to watch her fall a part and it’s kind of emotional for us. Okay. Well I would appreciate it if you could pass it on. Like I said, I think it’d be nice to get her a wheelchair just so she can feel like she’s–yes. Oh excellent. Thank you so much. But if you can pass on to Doctor Lowen about her physical condition. We’re just worried about–yes I know it’s not actually officially cancer. But something’s in her lung, something’s in her brain. We need to have some answers here. No, no, Yana, I appreciate you getting back to me. Thank you so much. They eliminated the lumps in her uterus, they say they’re benign, but you know, we have all those other tests to get scheduled. And you know what I’ve been hearing is that all the guys who run those tests are just out on vacation right now. Well thank you, I’m glad that you–oh sure, we will. We’ll be in touch. Thanks again for getting back to me Yana. Thank you for understanding, it’s been a bit rough for us. Okay well I’ll tell my mother you send your best, of course. Bye now, Yana.

Sorry about that. I just needed to get that call. I don’t normally answer. Anyway, what’s your timeline today?

“a few pieces of furniture” by Sasha at La Merceria


Thursday, July 3, 2014
11:11am at La Merceria
5 minutes
Design UK
Max Fraser


He sent me a money tree for my nineteenth birthday. There was a note, scrawled on the back of a receipt:

Happy Birthday, Sara.
Love, Your Old Man.

It wasn’t in the best shape, the money tree. Who knows how long it had travelled, how thirty it was. I was mad at him for sending me something that was living and needed care and attention. Those things didn’t come easily to him.

I put it in the window of my room. The corner of its leaves started to turn brown so I moved it out of the bright light.

“we dare be brave” by Sasha on her porch


Wednesday, July 2, 2014
10:37pm
5 minutes
Touched by an Angel
Maya Angelou


By choosing this, we dare to be brave. By choosing each other, we dare greater than we ever dared. We dare wide, we dare bright, we dare into the deep bat caves and find clumps of hair and photographs of when we were smaller, less brave versions of ourselves now.

We dare to be brave when we break. We dare higher when we leave what we have loved to find what we will love. We dare when we pack our favorite things in boxes and leave them by the side of the road. We have made so many promises. They sink to the bottom or they float on top. One or two have sprouted lilies. One or three have turned to weeds at the bottom and tickle our feet when we swim.

“get a rise outta you!” by Sasha in her garden


Tuesday July 1, 2014
9:12pm
5 minutes
from the Phoenix Rising espresso bag

Bella: You know what, Heather? You need a reality check. Faster than this fucking heat wave. You’re forgetting that floral wasn’t what it was this year, last year… Last year we could barely move that whole wall! No one fucking wanted it! And now –
Heather: I know everything you’re saying! You’re treating me like I’m an idiot!
Bella: I’m simply trying to explain to you that –
Heather: You’re trying to get a rise out of me.
Bella: I am. You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just… We are being forced to expand here and if we don’t go for it we’re going to regret it. For sure. We’re going to –
Heather: We are going for it. We just have different ideas of what that looks like!
Bella: We can’t have different ideas! We’re fucking partners!
Heather: Bella. You need to calm down. We need to talk about this like adults.
Bella: Do you even care?
Heather: What?
Bella: Do you even care about what happens here?
Heather: What are you talking about?
Bella: Ever since you got knocked up you really seem to have your head in the clouds. Or, your womb.

“If you want to change the world” by Sasha at ideal coffee


Monday June 30, 2014 at ideal coffee
12:14pm
5 minutes
from a poster at Second Cup

Sucking on bones from a barbecued chicken, eaten directly from the container, my twin sister Adelaide tries to tell me how to live my life. “Sebastian, you just gotta, like, get over yourself and go back!” She’s licking her fingers. I’m three and a half minutes older than her and never has a snippet short period of time mattered more. She’s talking about college. I was there on scholarship. I was there to write. I was there because I needed to get out of Prince George and be far far away from her, and our father and our little brother Augustus, who’d just turned seven. I’d come home because our father had a relapse. Adelaide is three hundred and sixteen pounds and can barely get off the rocking chair she lives in. Augustus spends half time with his mother, thank God, but still has needs. Adelaide told me not to come home. The next morning I was back.

“Four letter challenge!” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Sunday June 29, 2014
11:04pm
5 minutes
undergroundpoetry.com

It was the first time
and the last time
It was covered in green glitter
and honeydew breath
It was the first time
and the last time
It was a four letter challenge
and a three letter dance
It was the first time
and the last time
It left more scars on my than you
but I’m okay with that
Scars are currency where I come from
It was the first time
and the last time
We followed the white squirrel
all the way to the river
We took off our sandals
We waded in
Up to our thighs
They could hear our squeals
downtown

“we dare be brave” by Julia on her couch


Wednesday, July 2, 2014
10:36pm
5 minutes
Touched by an Angel
Maya Angelou


We dare to be brave
me writing this in front of you
me exposing my skin
me going in for a kiss when you might not kiss back
We dare
oh we’ve seen it
on subways
on bilboards
on front yards of your neighbours, your sisters, your dentist’s boss
we dare to
with passion
with ease
with openness
we dare to be brave
me letting you hear one of my songs
me laughing so hard while wearing the worst socks
me burning the chicken the second night in a row
we have to. we have to dare to dare.
that’s where the truly beautiful parts hide.
that’s where the honest, raw, and flawed thing lives.
We want her to feel safe. We want to let her out.

“I don’t understand why I sleep all day” by Sasha in her garden


Saturday June 28 2014
6:27pm
5 minutes
No Rain
Blind Melon


When I first met Bobby, we were at a party just off campus. He was tall and muscular and he smoked drum. We talked about not being from this city and what it was like to miss home. He kissed me by the shrubs and asked for my phone number. We dated, on and off, for three years. It was really good for the first year, okay the second year and by the third year I was running to my friend Tina’s place with bruises on my ribs and tears on my cheeks. Bobby grew up with three older brothers. They were ruthless with eachother – any time he’d speak about his childhood I would cringe. One night, I went into the den where Bobby was watching TV. I could see the fog over his head, rage was on it’s way. I looked at him and said, “I’m leaving you for two months. If you don’t get help in that time, I’m gone for good.” I packed a knapsack and went to stay with my mother. What Bobby didn’t know is that I was pregnant. When I got to my mother’s I slept all day for the first week. The second week, I roasted lots of vegetables and cried to my mother about the dream of happiness and health evaporating.

“get a rise outta you!” by Julia at The Forks


Tuesday July 1, 2014 at The Forks
8:41pm
5 minutes
from the Phoenix Rising espresso bag

He started doing it to me when we first met. It was before we were allowed to love each other. Probably because I told a different person and I also told myself that I would be committed to him. The other person. I had met him first, he was my first real relationship. It wasn’t a forever thing but it was a then thing. So was he. The other other person. The one I wanted to love but wasn’t allowed to yet. I would look at him while he glanced around the room taking everyone in and learning something that even they didn’t know about themselves with just one silent look. I would hope that he was looking at me like that. From the inside out. And I would dream about leaving the person I had for the person I wanted but didn’t fully know the magnitude of that desire at the time. And he made sure that I kept wanting him. Because he’d tell me things that I’d believe just because it was coming out of his mouth, when really he was just seeing how much I would allow. I didn’t know there was such a thing as learning someone from the inside out. He showed me that. He once took off his glasses and convinced me that his eyes were wonky without them. He asked me if I thought he should get contacts. I said no.

“If you want to change the world” by Julia at Second Cup in Winnipeg


Monday June 30, 2014 at Second Cup
12:15pm
5 minutes
from a poster at Second Cup

I guess stop talking about the elderly as if they’re barnyard animals? I guess don’t say “that chick is just skin and bones” or “that chick shakes when she stands cause she’s just all skin and bones.” I think that’s the first step; to give all people an equal chance at existing without prejudice. I don’t know from where I sand–from where I sit–it just feels like there’s more to talk about than the people we know and especially when they’re not in the room. I was taught that once anyway. “Don’t have conversations with people who aren’t in the room.” I guess that’s about breakups or asking for things, mainly, but it could also mean that it’s better to not talk about someone who can’t defend themselves. There are other steps too-you know–if you want to change the world. First I’d say carry a quarter in your pocket everywhere you go so you can give it to someone who needs it more than you if you have the chance. Second I’d say that praying helps.