“We can help you” by Julia on Nicole’s couch


Sunday August 31, 2014
11:29pm
5 minutes
a TD bank envelope

We want you to feel at home, so take the robe, take it all! Make some eggs, make them all! Don’t feel like you can’t walk around freely. Walk around naked! We do it! We love it. You’re our guest, so please understand how genuine we’re being about keeping you comfortable. It’s our mission. We’re so genuine about comfort it hurts. It does! You need undergarments? We have those! Go through our drawers! You need any creams or lotions? All yours. If you’re feeling peckish there is a jar of gefilte fish in the fridge that we’ve all been poking at so have at it! We can help you shed your cloak of armour and guarded nature. We can help you love who you are because we love who you are! Wanna pick your nose? Go get that gold! Wanna read our diaries? Please do! Wanna nose bleed on all our white sheets? DON’T FUCKING DO THAT. BLOOD IS REALLY HARD TO GET OUT OF THOSE SHEETS. Anything else? Anything else at all? Go ahead! We want you to! We want you to open yourself up and get out of your own way. Judgement free. This is a judgement free zone!

“the landing cure” by Julia at Hunter’s Landing


Saturday August 30, 2014 at Hunter’s Landing
2:25pm
5 minutes
Hunter’s Landing menu

Tawny lost her tooth at the supermarket and she’s really bummed about it, Kev. What are we supposed to do about the tooth fairy now? Cause she literally lost the tooth and the whole premise is that the tooth fairy takes the tooth and gives her a loonie. A loonie for a tooth, Kev, and now because she got knocked in the head by a box of Lucky Charms, she has no tooth. Some other kid probably has her bloody tooth and is making money on it right now. I mean, do we tell her the tooth fairy just has an intuition? Or do we shape her up for some good quality reality, and tell her that the tooth fairy will not be coming this time because rules are rules and she didn’t follow the protocol. I mean, this is the school of hard-knocks am I right? That girl has to learn sometime. She has to learn to be careful and not lose things of value! She has to learn to be more aggressive while looking for something that has value! She has to be more thoughtful of her surroundings and be more observant so that when one thing changes, ie, her tooth is now somewhere on the floor when minutes before the floor looked a different way, so that she can recognize when she needs to be on guard because consistency is like the thing before they have deja vu in The Matrix!

“Skunk in love” by Julia at Nicole’s table


Friday August 29, 2014
12:50am
5 minutes
Nadeem’s version of Beyonce’s “Drunk In Love”

I was talking about skunks with someone I know. You wouldn’t know him, so it doesn’t matter. But my question was, Why do we even have skunks? I mean, WHY do we even HAVE them? It just feels to me that they don’t help anything around them. They just make humans perpetually scared whenever they meet, and make us hate them out of the fear that they will ruin our days, and therefore our lives. And this guys said, They do one thing, but they do it extremely well. And I was like, what do they do? WHAT do the EVEN do? Just feel completely satisfied with the fact that they can scamper from one hiding spot to the next and build like a ginormous home and family in certain areas because no one else will ever disturb their territory? And he was like, YES, ACTUALLY, that IS what they do. And I thought about it. I thought about it for a long time. He was right. He was. They were superior at protecting themselves without violence, without being sneaky. They just know they smell awful, learned to use it as a defence mechanism, and their children grow up to believe that emitting odours is a cool thing to do, and not to care about what anyone else thinks of them.

“Total Control” by Julia on Nicole’s couch


Thursday August 28, 2014
10:44pm
5 minutes
The bottle of curl keeper

I am making a list so I can check off everything. It’s nothing new because I’m the kind of person who likes to reiterate the things I do, consistently, without fail, because I’m really just a control freak. There, I said it. I know who I am. I’m this thing or that and it’s not a big deal so can everyone just get over everything already? As if I’m the only person in the entire world who wants to control everything all the time and have things go exactly her way. I’m not the only person, because I have friends who are similar because I want to make sure that there are no variables. I controlled my friendship circle to the point that I didn’t have any fun people left in the group, and certainly no comedy, and certainly no spontaneity. You can’t trust those laid back people who leave things to the last minute and throw caution to the wind. Those are the kind of people who wear the same pair of underwear two days in a row. I know this because I used to know those people and those people never got anything done ever. So. I am making a list now about the people I kicked out of my life and I would like to see if any of them have changed all the easy-going things on which I based my decision to cut ties, and identify if any, with those life changes, have the proper amount of fun still left in them because I could use some.

“Men can be really great allies” by Julia on Nicole’s couch


Wednesday August 27, 2014
6:08pm
5 minutes
The Georgia Straight

Of course he’s standing beside me on my wedding day. He’s the best man I know besides the man I’m marrying so why wouldn’t I have him? I’m not going to make him wear a dress, that’s so stupid. He’s going to look sharp in his suit and he’s going to only take attention away from me for a little bit at the start of the day because he knows how to rock a suit better than anyone else will in that entire room. I’ve known him since I switched personalities. I was one person before we met and then when I found him, I shook his hand and accepted the deal that I would be this person now. I was always this person just now I’d be her all the time and out loud and acceptance and love and tenderness for her or whatever. He enforced my soul with his and we danced a bit, probably to Mariah, or Ciara-hips out, sweat dripping.

“Have a beautiful night, beautiful.” By Julia at Nicole’s desk


Tuesday August 26, 2014
12:31am
5 minutes
Overheard on the streetcar

On our night in the woods we drank the blue stuff and turned the yellow stuff into powder. We clinked our glasses, and our thumbs, and we tilted our heads back to send the gift down-offering up an opportunity to our souls (we were looking for some peace of truth, whichever came first). The stars twinkled in sequence, telling a story, singing a song, drowning in ecstasy and not waving or struggling to stay above the tide. The moments lasted as long as they should have-the romance elongated, the touch softened. Our tongues traced tiny hearts on each other’s belly and we prayed with the night’s temple lit on fire from our commitment. We spoke only with our eyes and I said, Forever, and he said, Yes please.

“the landing cure” by Sasha at culprit coffee


Saturday August 30, 2014
12:03pm at culprit coffee
5 minutes
Hunter’s Landing menu

the landing cure is the sure footed traveller the landing cure is the mr lazy mug full of mediocre coffee the landing cure is the rain falling on a bike seat that your bum will touch soon soon soon soon the landing cure is erykah badu on the stereo the soothing honey sounds of ba ba ba ba ba ba the landing cure is unknown undetermined unsure the landing cure is a pantry with gogi berries and homemade granola and saffron from bali that’s been brought and packed and shipped four or five different times and never used not once used the landing cure is all lower case and less abrasive than a yawn or too bright toenail polish the landing cure is a good beat and moving feet the landing cure is a phone call from a sister

“Skunk in love” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Friday August 29, 2014
9:45pm
5 minutes
Nadeem’s version of Beyonce’s “Drunk In Love”

The hero’s journey:
She is born
Bright
She steps
Brave
She falls
Up again! Up again!
She steps
Afraid
She moves
Fearless
She meets
She grows
She forgets
Remember the address remember the phone number remember the birthday party remember the prom
She loves the smell of earth
And the colour red
She loves spaghetti squash
She makes macaroni and cheese from scratch
She gets a letter
An invitation
She takes it
She flies twelve thousand miles
She has her life in her pocket
In her palms
In her ribcage

Total Control by Sasha on the 99 bus


Thursday August 28, 2014
7:32pm
5 minutes
The bottle of curl keeper

I’m not exactly sure how I got here but what I do know is it smells like fish. I woke up next to a little girl, curly hair, sucking her thumb. She kept sleeping. I found the toilet in the corner of the kitchen and peed, trying to keep my legs together. I heard a voice, “You’re home!” I heard a crash. I laughed because I didn’t know what else to do. I felt a tear trickle from one eye, to my upper lip. I licked it. The voice became a person, a woman, and she was wide and moustached. “You’re here! You’re home!” She smiled but it was more like a cat that got the cream. “This… is not my home… I don’t even know where I am…” She took my hand. She was cold. She began opening a can of tuna. She called, “Millicent! Sheldon! Bartholomew!” She tapped a fork against the can. I heard footsteps.

“Men can be really great allies” by Sasha at Kits Beach


Wednesday August 27, 2014
3:28pm
5 minutes
The Georgia Straight

I want to tell you that there’s a secret to success but really I think that “success” is a fraudulent notion to begin with.
I want to tell you to drink lots of water, because we’re made of it and it’s good for you and it allows you to feel your own tides, that wax and wane with your heart.
I want to tell you that there’s lots to be afraid of, but don’t be afraid. When you’re afraid your muscles tense and when your muscles tense it’s so much harder to be free.
I want to tell you that there’s no secret recipe to keep you young, or full-hearted. The things that help, though, are being outside, with trees, and good conversations with people you trust.

“have a beautiful night, beautiful” by Sasha on her couch


Tuesday August 26, 2014
9:32pm
5 minutes
Overheard on the streetcar

My heart flutters and I try not to spill the glasses of wine on my tray. “The Shiraz, the cab sauv, the Pinot Noir…” “Are you okay?” “Yeah, yes, yuppp…” I walk back to behind the bar and close my eyes and replay the moment. I pretend that there’s no bell dinging or beer bottles being popped open or obnoxious laughter.

“You were late today…”
“My bike got a flat tire and I had to walk up the hill on McDonald.”
“Want me to fix it?”
“My bike?”
“Your tire.”
“You know how?”
“Yes.”
“Sure! That would be amazing! I was going to go to the bike shop tomorrow but they always rip me off, I know they do, just cuz I’m not a guy in one of those little hats or whatever…”
You smile. You keep stacking dishes.
“You’ve never been late before. Boss isn’t mad. Don’t worry.”
“You’ve been keeping track?”
“I notice.”
“Oh you “notice”…”
“You live close to here?”
“East End. You?”
“West.”
There’s a pause like a rainstorm, or a collision of stars.
“I was wondering if – …”
The kitchen door swings open and in comes Boss.
“Sefton, are your bothering her?”
“No. He’s not.”
“No, Boss.”
“Get to work Fatty, you gotta make up for that lost time…”

“A crowd pleaser” by Julia on the greyhound going to Toronto


Monday August 25, 2014
8:37pm
5 minutes
WE Vancouver

Mark told me today he wanted to plan a BBQ for me and I was impressed because BBQs are the best thing to have when you want to gather a crowd and tell people in a drunken stupor that you’re going to miss them. Sometimes you forget that you make an impression on people and you affect them just by being alive. We worry ourselves with ideas of how to be remembered and what actions create better memories. People are not stupid so they actually look at you and see you and feel you and know you. No gimmicks are needed no silly dramatics. Just some honesty and some ease. That’s all it takes. I wish I east surprised my human kindness. I wish I expected it more than I do.
So when Mark told me he was going to gather the masses for me, I cried a little and he said, no sweat, because it was his pleasure.

“get started” by Julia in the backyard


Sunday August 24, 2014
12:00am
5 minutes
the Semperviva pamphlet

Got lists to make got things to do got cookies to bake got snacks for you got hopes to write got dreams to print got fears to fight got spirits to lift got nights to ride got days to burn got sadness to hide got madness to learn got happiness to find got excuses to lose got manners to mind got nothing to prove got cures to spell out got strength to stick, got strangers to doubt got courage to pick

“I won’t leave it this late again” by Julia on Amanda’s couch


Saturday August 23, 2014
2:39am
5 minutes
In The Long Run
The Staves


Didn’t want to wake you up before I left
Cause that sleepy look on your face was too much for me
The sound of your teeth lightly chompin’ away at the dreams stuck in your mouth
Telling me you were okay there in that moment without my touch
Telling me you were going to be just fine even after I leave
Didn’t sing my goodbye to you with tears in my eyes
Didn’t pretend to be going on an earth saving mission like in Armageddon
I had all my bags packed and I was on my way out
When I saw you there in that last instant of togetherness
I froze in the doorway and watched you while I gripped my fingers tight
Should have said all the good things to you last night
Should have made us stay up late with that bottle of wine we keep saving and saving and saving
Should have started the leaving sooner

“a crowd pleaser” by Sasha at Kits beach


Monday August 25, 2014
4:28pm
5 minutes
WE Vancouver

You’re quoting Drake which bodes well. “Started from the bottom” and shit. You’re eating yam fries like it’s your job, asking for more chipotle mayo. My kinda guy…
“So, you ever been to Mexico?”
“Nope…”
“Aw man, I go down every winter. Gotta catch those rays, right?”
“For sure.”
“We don’t like to do too much explaining
Story stay the same through the money and the fame
Cause we started from the bottom…”
“Yup…”
“You got real nice lips, you know that?”
“Um – ”
“Real nice kissable lips…”
“Ha ha…”
“Can I kiss you?”
“Not yet…”
“Little later?”
“Maybe a little later…”
“Aw sheeet man, you a fuckin’ tease…”
“I’m just – …”
“You’re a tease is what you are.”

“get started” by Sasha on her porch


Sunday August 24, 2014
12:03am
5 minutes
Semperviva pamphlet

All you need to get started is willingness.
All you need to get started is an open heart.
All you need to get started is breath.
All you need to get started are angel wings.
All you need to get started is a bellybutton.
All you need to get started is a mother that sings to you.
All you need to get started is a charcoal pencil.
All you need to get started is a bottle of water.
All you need to get started is the sunrise.
All you need to get started is a lover who knows how to touch and how to let go.
All you need to get started is a beating heart.
All you need to get started is a sweater from Newfoundland.
All you need to get started is the desire to evolve.
All you need to get started is an invitation.



Here it is.
Here.
Here.
Here.

“I won’t leave it this late again” by Sasha on her couch


Saturday August 23, 2014
2:46pm
5 minutes
In The Long Run
The Staves


I won’t leave it this late again.
The moon’s howling and the wind is glowing red.
I won’t be coming back again.
Your grin was like butterscotch and sand.
I won’t leave it this late again.
I’m sorry for all the bad I’ve done.
The mountains are screaming banshees.
The ocean is rough.
When we said goodbye, you wouldn’t look at me.
I thought maybe it meant something.
I thought maybe it meant that you weren’t who you said you were.
I thought maybe when we said goodbye
You would hold my pointer finger and aim it right where you hurt.
The sand is cold and the bugs are loud.
It was dark.
It is dark.
Darkness is the ghost of knowing what we know and keeping quiet.
Darkness is light
Dressed up
Or down.
Darkness is the universal shroud of grief
of knowing there’s so much still to do.

“Revisions 101″by Sasha at her kitchen table


Friday August 22, 2014
7:13pm
5 minutes
from a Westjet seat pamphlet

One day I’m gonna take ya down to the mine where Poppa worked. He’d be down there fourteen hours a day, six days a week, every week but Christmas the whole year round. Complete darkness but those headlamps, ya know. An’ he’d come home and he’d play wit each of us, ya know. Cindy would ask for wrestling an’ I’d sit on his lap for the newspaper read, and Pete would drag ’em outside for football. Never heard ’em complain. Not once. Not one time. An’ he’d do the washing up after supper so that Mama could rest her legs and listen to the CBC. Never heard ’em complain. Not a peep a’ that. He was glad that he had us an’ he knew what he was workin’ for…

“Please share your thoughts” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Thursday August 21, 2014
10:17pm
5 minutes
from a receipt from Safeway

Please share your thoughts on your mother.


I’ll leave you ample space, enough to draw a diorama or diagram or sketch or erase and re-write. Please don’t leave out your expression about your relationship between 13-17. There’s juicy stuff there. Those are the years you thought you were most different but really you were most the same. She’s sorry about the time she called you a bitch. She regrets that. She regrets not saying “sorry” more quickly. She loves the way that you refuse to change out of your pyjamas on Christmas, even though she rolls her eyes and harps on about how it’s ridiculous to not put on a dress when there are twenty six people coming over for eggnog and shortbread cookies.

“lease holders and approved occupants” by Sasha on her floor


Wednesday August 20, 2014
10:15pm
5 minutes
from an apartment memorandum

I find the skeleton
The big one
Bigger than the one that stood on Mr. Reynolds desk in Grade 12 Biology
Bigger than your new nephew
Six months old
Eyes brown like his mother’s
I find the skeleton
You’ve been wishing the tide would take
It hasn’t
The moon isn’t on the side of deception
She’s on the side of the ocean
Who is relentless
And forgiving
Your skeleton is a hand-me-down
Don’t forget that
He sings the unsung song of your father
And I have compassion for that
I find the skeleton and I take him out
I close the closet he came from
I put him in the garden beside the chives

“I begin to understand” by Sasha at her kitchen table in Vancouver


Tuesday August 19, 2014
11:04pm
5 minutes
You Got It
Roy Orbison


Gus and Mary ride the ferry to the island. When they get there, Gus kisses Mary on the cheek and says, “See you at the dock at 7:30, my sweet carnation.” She nods. He walks up the hill, the grass fading from green to yellow because of the lack of rain. It’s been a dry season and it worries him. He takes a hanky from the pocket of his jacket and blows his nose. His cellphone rings in his pocket. It’s Mary. “Hi beautiful,” “Gus? I’m not sure where to find Allison…” “She was going to meet you right where I left you…” “She isn’t here.” “Just wait on the bench, Mary. She’ll be there soon.” Gus hangs up the phone and thinks about the time before Mary forgot, before Mary called him every few minutes, when he could wander the island alone.

“Try and make a few local friends” by Sasha on the bed in Mississauga


Monday August 18, 2014
1:03am
5 minutes
girlinflorence.com


I’ve never had problems making friends. Attribute it to a good sense of humour and chattiness. Attribute it to introspective sense-of-self. I’ve noticed though, in the last handful of years, a shyness. I never had it before. I’d dive in, head-first, unafraid of all the usual things. Unafraid of judgement. This shyness, maybe it’s the Fence. The Fence came when Ken left. I know that’ll make sense to you because you’ve been there. You know the Fence. In fact, you recently stipped your own of it’s white paint, happy to let the grain show.

INSERTED by Sasha at her desk


Sunday August 17, 2014
12:03am
5 minutes
from a receipt

You are the one with the too loud laugh. You shove it. You put it. You insert it.
You are the one with the too big talk. You push it. You shake it. You grow it.
You are the one with the pointy toed shoes. You revel. You strut.

You are three. Your mother comes home from a trip to the grocery store. You go running to her. “Mama! Mama! Look what I made!” You hold up a pipe cleaner statue. “What is it?” She asks, unpacking bags. “It’s our house!” You say. She finally looks down. “You can do better than that…” She turns on the tap and gets herself a glass of water.

“Revisions 101″by Julia on a plane heading to Toronto


Friday August 22, 2014
6:32pm
5 minutes
from a Westjet seat pamphlet
I am girl in airport.
I am girl in airport with two bags too big.
I am girl in airport with a dying phone.
I am girl in airport with boyfriend nearby.
I am girl in airport with angry/sad boyfriend who cannot be made to laugh right now.
I am girl in airport with a feeling of loss and sadness.
I am girl trying not to cry in airport.
I am girl crying in airport.
I am girl with mascara stained cheeks in airport.
I am girl regretting earlier mascara application in airport.
I am girl making promises to sad/angry boyfriend in airport.
I am girl with strained neck in airport.
I am girl looking forward and slightly downward in airport.
I am girl with strained neck, trying not to cry, beside boyfriend, without ability to see boyfriend with two bags too big, in airport.
I am girl in airport.

“Please share your thoughts” by Julia at her kitchen table


Thursday August 21, 2014
6:17pm
5 minutes
from a receipt from Safeway

So I’ve been listening to a really good book tape–it’s about these three Jewish brothers–one’s an architect, one’s a dancer, like a tap dancer; Andreas, Matteas, and another one I can’t remember. But it’s good! You would like it. I should have waited to listen with you. I’m on disc 22 now and they just bombed pearl harbour so I’m well into the end now. But it’s very interesting–Oh! I should phone Rob and let him know I’m coming home. He tried calling me today but I was so busy all day. Have you seen my lip gloss? You know that purol I love so much in the tin? I can’t get enough of it but I seem to have misplaced it. Rob would just laugh about me, I know it be always tells me I’m a spaz like that. Maybe that’s why he loves me, you know, anyway it’s called The Bridge I think-the book tape thing. Audio boo! Oh yeah there are so many names for things these days don’t you find? What other things have more than one name for it? I can’t seem to think of any!

“I don’t want to find myself” by Sasha in her garden


Saturday August 16, 2014
4:58pm
5 minutes
a poem by Mary Oliver

When the song ends, she smiles. She brushes hair from her face. She shrugs when asked is she wants another drink. She takes out her phone and she looks at it. She turns it off and on. She thinks about that song from Ally McBeal Ooga chaka ooga chaka and she furrows her brow, wondering where that might’ve come from. She checks twitter. She thinks about what to say. She thinks about whether of not she should write something about that song. She decides against it.

“Have a good one” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Friday August 15, 2014
4:13pm
5 minutes
overheard on the 18 bus going south

“Have a good one,” he said and he really meant it. I could tell. Maybe it was the way that his sleeves were rolled up or the fact that he was wearing glasses this time. He really meant it. “You know,” I said, “I’ve never introduced myself. I’m Erin.” He smiled, and maybe it was his dimples or the newsprint on his fingertips. “Hi Erin… I’m… Aaron…” I DIED. I… died inside. Here I am, falling for this guy, this news stand guy, for, like a whole year and… WE HAVE THE SAME EFFING NAME?! I definitely blushed.

“Love rocks” by Sasha on her couch


Thursday August 14, 2014
12:29am
5 minutes
from a girl’s purple t-shirt


Love is like an amethyst
Craggy
Pointy
Purple
The base reminds you of the rocks of the Canadian Shield where you spent your summers as a young one
The tips remind you of dangerous wishes
The in between is sparkly and mysterious


Love is like a rose quartz
Light pink and cloudy
Dizzy and spin-y
Dream-like
Simple and exquisite


Love is like a piece of coral
Stolen from the bottom of the ocean

“I’m not doing this with you right now” by Sasha in her bed


Wednesday August 13, 2014
1:03am
5 minutes
from a conversation

J. and A. are lying in bed. A. has been attempting to fall asleep for forty six minutes. J. is snoring softly. A. tosses and turns. She finally elbows J.
A: You’re snoring!
J: Arrr –
A: Jason, you’re fucking snoring again…
J: Sorry.
A: I can’t fucking sleep!
J: Mmmm –
A: It’s like sleeping beside a St. Bernard!
J: Sorry.
A: Or a pug!
J. chuckles. A. chuckles.
J: You’re cute.
A: You need to go sleep on the couch.
J: What? Why? You’re so cuddly!
A: I have that stupid interview tomorrow and if I’m tired I won’t present well and I won’t get the job and we’ll live in this basement apartment forever and ever and ever –
J: Okay, okay…
A: Thanks. Sorry. I love you.
J. gets out of bed and takes his pillow. He kisses A. on the forehead.

“You mustn’t lose it.” By Sasha in her garden


Tuesday August 12, 2014
7:42pm
5 minutes
a quote from Robin Williams

Here’s the necklace I was telling you about, Robin. You mustn’t lose it. You must put it someplace safe. Your grandmother gave it to me when your father and I got married. It was my “something old”. She wasn’t a warm woman, by any stretch of any imagination. She was… she was a mountain. I’ll never forget it – I heard a firm knock on the door of the room where Aunt Lil and I were getting ready. “Yes?” “May I come in for just one moment,” I couldn’t believe my ears. She wasn’t one for primping and preening. She would rather mow the lawn than plant flowers. In she came, in a gust of intensity. Lil and I exchanged looks. “Now both of you just stop with that,” she said, “I have something to give you Bobette.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a carved wooden box.

“you have been invited” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Monday Aug 11, 2014
12:15am
5 minutes
from an e-mail

You have been invited to the convergence of beauties
You will come wearing a blue cloak
The stars will twinkle
You will come in glass slippers
The earth will sigh
You have been invited to the convergence of beauties
You are one
No matter how you try to forget it
Sipping and smoking and snorting
You are one
I’ll remind you
Over jars of mulberry wine
Brewed by brothers
We will dance
When the moon rises high
When the darkness is at its most dense
We will dance

“lease holders and approved occupants” by Julia on her couch


Wednesday August 20, 2014
9:08pm
5 minutes
from an apartment memorandum

I feel a bit silly asking this, but do you think he wants me to stay for the winter? I’m only asking because we got this memo under the door today about getting new keys because the front locks were being changed, and he didn’t tell me about it. He like, hid the memo from me and I only found it because I was looking for the old memo from two days ago that said something about the drainage pipes. Why wouldn’t he invite me to stay long term? I feel like a summer fling all of a sudden, which is crazy right? He gave me a key for the summer and he’s going to give me a key for the winter too, isn’t he? Why would he all of a sudden not want me to get into his apartment easily? I feel like he’s going to be really annoyed with me calling all the time just to get inside the house we share, right? Well, we’ve been sharing it, I guess we don’t officially share it since my name is nowhere on the lease. I just thought, hey, I’m not a lease holder, fine, but I most certainly am an approved occupant! The residence manager has seen me a bazillion times while he’s watering the one plant in the front yard. I say hi to him every time I walk by even though he just stares at my boobs when he sees me. If anything, I’m an asset to this stupid building. Is that anti-feminist? Is this whole conversation anti-feminist? I’m just trying to figure out where I belong, you know? Well, no, not that desperately. I’m not begging for a key or anything. I’m not begging for a ring at all. I’m good with where we are. I’m good.

“I begin to understand” by Julia at her kitchen table


Tuesday August 19, 2014
11:57pm
5 minutes
You Got It
Roy Orbison


Has anyone ever told you that you look like a young John Travolta? It’s a compliment, really. I mean, hey, it’s John Fucking Travolta. Who wouldn’t want to look like him? It’s true, he’s no Tom Cruise. Oh my God, have you seen Eyes Wide Shut? He’s a fucking dreamboat in that one, right? Oh my god, like a perfect little angel man. He’s got a nice casual condescension that he plays so easily, so effortlessly. I hate to admit I was attracted to him during the whole film, even when he’s acting questionably. Oh my good fucking god, it’s not a spoiler, who doesn’t act questionably in a movie? It’s a movie! But you! You’re a John. A good one, a good good one. And it’s probably, well mostly, because of that cute little chin of yours. You can just tell that you’re good cause of that. It looks like you have an extra space to fit the love in! That’s what my great grandmother always used to say. Well not always, I mean, I only knew her for like a year before she died and in that time I think we ever only talked about bum chins that once.

“Try and make a few local friends” by Julia on her couch


Monday August 18, 2014
1:03am
5 minutes
girlinflorence.com

My motha, she calls me in the middle of the night. She tells me, Keltie, don’t be that girl. I am not that girl, whatever girl she thinks I am, so I say, motha, please, don’t lump me into that group, for the love of christ. She says, Keltie, I don’t want you to be one of those loser girls who sits on her computer all day checking e-mails and how to blogs about growing vegetables indoors but doesn’t actually buy the seeds to do it. I have to take a moment to think about that one, but she doesn’t stop talking. You know, Keltie, you’ve got to be ahead of the crowd and ahead of yourself. Don’t try and hide behind your looks because you’re not fooling anyone and one day someone other than me is going to expect you to actually do something. I’m sitting up in my bed chugging a glass of day old water, trying to watch the tiny fuzz particles as they hid my teeth. I’m staring at the mirror. I’m plucking out stray hairs on inner thigh, fucking Carla forgot to get those white ones we talked about. Yes, uh-huh, I’m still here, I tell her, but she’s hardly even listening. You want to be one of those sad girls who doesn’t make any friends? Keltie? Promise me you’re going to get drunk at least once so you have the confidence to talk to someone other than your vagina. Ma! My vagina? What fresh hell is this conversation right now? She doesn’t answer for the first time. Promise me, Keltie.

“INSERTED” by Julia on her couch


Sunday August 17, 2014
10:19pm
5 minutes
from a receipt

I haven’t known what day it is since last week. That’s not usually like me. I usually know dates and times and names and faces. Lately I’ve been forgetting. I can’t tell if it’s later in the week or earlier? I can’t tell if I have something I need to get done, or not? Maybe because I’ve been doing nothing for so long it suddenly feels like there’s no way I could still be doing only nothing. Haven’t I scheduled some amazing plans yet? Haven’t I figured out something great to do with my time? Surely I’ve missed something! But that would be even worse, knowing that the one and only time I did have plans, I forgot to write them down, or just got the dates confused and ended up doing something mundane instead! Maybe it’s a defence mechanism so I don’t have to go ahead and deal with the dates I know are approaching. August 21: our last night. August 22: our last day. August 23: The first day without you in months. August 24: the first Sunday without cuddling you in the morning because we made sure to observe No Alarm Sundays every other weekend.
I don’t know what day I’m on because I’m in preparation for a longing that can’t be cured simply just by making other plans..

“I don’t want to find myself” by Julia at her kitchen table


Saturday August 16, 2014
4:57pm
5 minutes
a poem by Mary Oliver

I don’t want to find myself with a head full of dandruff and coffee stained teeth. I told myself I wouldn’t start drinking coffee, but then I got addicted. Not to the drink, but to the mugs! God, I feel so stupid. So stupid to get tricked by the mass marketing scheme of cute and quirky coffee mugs! I’m not even joking when I tell you that one of mine has a picture of a cat balancing on a coffee bean with a caption underneath that says “If I can do it, so can you.” It doesn’t even make sense! I guess if you really tear it open, dissect the crap out of it it could. If this cat is balancing on a coffee bean, symbolizing, what? That he or she is being kept up by the coffee alone? Sure, fine, okay, I can understand that. But why does a cat need to get anything done in the first place? Why is a cat balancing on anything at all? It’s hardly realistic. If you replaced a cat with a person, then I’d get the sentiment. And then to be honest, I really wouldn’t need the caption. It sort of says it all: getting things done by staying on the coffee. Fine. Okay. That’s clearer. I just don’t want to find myself one day showing off my coffee cup collection while I neglect to maintain my scalp.

“Have a good one” by Julia on the 18 bus south


Friday August 15, 2014
2:13pm
5 minutes
overheard on the 18 bus going south

The old man in the ratty suit tipped his ripped hat to a small girl with a daisy in her pony tail. She smiled shyly, then hid behind her mommy’s leg.
Poor thing, she’s shy!
Poor thing, she’s just a wee little love bug.
The old man had respect for his elders, his youngers, his same agers, his in-betweeners.
He didn’t think one person belonged on this earth with any more right than any other.
He might have been a dying breed; showing compassion to passers-by and loved ones alike.
Shouldn’t this be the way it goes?
Poor thing, he’s getting on!
Poor thing, he’s just a crumpled old dying thing.
He made everyone feel both good and bad at the same time. On the one hand he did a great job of including and inviting and making someone feel special. On the other, he was the only one who did this. He was better than the everyman.

“Love rocks” by Julia on her couch


Thursday August 14, 2014
12:22am
5 minutes
from a girl’s purple t-shirt

Oh they say that when they have it, when they feel it, when they see it
Oh they say that when they know it, when they own it, when they free it
Oh they say those things, light on and good intentions
Oh they say those things, dreams out loud and good vibrations
Oh they, the ones who don’t have to do the missing
Oh they, the ones who don’t have to do the air kissing
Oh they, the ones who don’t need to pretend
Oh they, the ones who don’t need to wait
Love
Talking about Love
Talking about what everyone knows what I’m talking about
Paul Simon on the open road
Something about the loss of it and a window and the winds blowing
Talking about Love
Talking about the same old thing that poetry was built on
Hand-written letters in the mail, sent with two stamps and a kiss for good luck
Oh they say that when they have it, when they feel it, when they see it
Oh they say that when they know it, when they own it, when they free it
Love
Talking about Love

“I’m not doing this with you right now” by Julia on her couch


Wednesday August 13, 2014
2:01am
5 minutes
from a conversation

I’m
not
leaving
that’s not what I’m doing
I’m
not
leaving
you
We can talk every Wednesday
I’m
not
disappearing
I want to write you love letters by hand
I’m
not
leaving
you
Please don’t make this harder
I’m
not
going
far
away
If you don’t consider geography
I’m
not
going
far
way
from
you
If you believe me when I tell you I’m still here
I’m
not
going
I could stay inside this moment with you
I’m
not
going
at
all
Could we resume our puzzle pieced body formation?
I
will
never
leave
you
Take a second to promise me something
I
will
never
choose
something
over you
Distance is a word not a knife wound

“Awesome job!” by Sasha on her bed


Sunday August 10, 2014
8:28pm
5 minutes
from an e-mail

AWESOME JOB, HONEY! YOU DID IT! YOU FINALLY DID IT! YOU REALLY GOT IT THIS TIME, HONEY! YOU HIT THE NAIL ON THE HEAD, HONEY. I’M IMPRESSED. I REALLY AM. WHEN YOU GOT HERE, HONEY, I WASN’T SURE YOU KNEW YOUR SHOE FROM YOUR NOSE OR YOUR ASS FROM YOUR MOUTH BUT… YOU’VE DONE IT! YOU’VE EARNED THE RESPECT OF ALL OF US, OF ME AND HIM AND ME AND THAT WOMAN WHO KEEPS SHOWING UP WITH CUPCAKES. HONEY, I’VE REALLY COME TO LIKE YOU. I HOPE YOU STICK AROUND. YOUR TYPE OFTEN COMES AND GOES BUT I HOPE YOU DO MORE STAYING THAN ANYTHING ELSE. STICK AROUND, HONEY. WE’RE GONNA MAKE COOL THINGS HAPPEN. REAL COOL THINGS.

“Celebratory beverages” by Sasha in her garden


Saturday, August 9, 2014
3:41pm
5 minutes
from a text message


The celebratory beverages included sparkling grape juice and ginger pear kombucha. Jill didn’t roll her eyes or whisper to Larissa. She sipped. She thought. She wondered what colour underwear Jonah, her husband, was wearing at that very moment in Stockholm. She closed her eyes and tried her hardest to imagine… But, for once, she couldn’t. “Are you okay?” Larissa asked, dipped a stick of cucumber into the bowl of hummus. “Fine, fine…” She quickly stood and walked round the side of the house to call him. “Jonah?” It was his voicemail. “Damn it!”

“You mustn’t lose it.” By Julia on Hugo Street


Tuesday August 12, 2014
4:49pm
5 minutes
a quote from Robin Williams

He said it matter-of-factly as he gripped his miniature hand over my closed fist. This was a gift from a tiny god and I was being entrusted with it. He made sure I was looking him in the eyes when I promised him I would keep it safe. And never give it to any one else? Of course not. And never drop it on the ground that doesn’t have carpet? Never ever. And never forget where you last put it? Not on my life. And with that he scampered off getting distracted by the grass that he in that moment just had to bend down to dig up. I watched him playing in the earth with my fist still tightly closed. The magic of this gift was fuelling me from my hands and seeping into my bones trough my troubled skin. He didn’t even say what it was. I suppose he didn’t have to. I had believed in the importance of it by virtue of his stern instructions. He didn’t make me promise not to open it until he was gone. I didn’t have to open it to know that it was ours.

“you have been invited” by Julia on her couch


Monday Aug 11, 2014
12:05am
5 minutes
from an e-mail

It’s my going away party, okay? It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, and nobody was supposed to get upset or say goodbye at all. I didn’t want to have to tell you. I know it sounds stupid, how was I supposed to pull that one off, right? How was I supposed to take off in the middle of the night without a trace and never hug my best friend again. Well in my defence I would have probably told you right after the party. I just wanted to have one last good night where it’s not clouded by anything. I mean, I would have it hanging over my head, of course, and I just thought, yeah but I’m a good actress; I can fake that nothing is wrong better than anyone. But I didn’t want anything to be different. I’m sorry that I did that. I don’t know how I’m supposed to say goodbye to you. I can’t picture starting a chapter without you in it.

“Awesome job!” by Julia on her bed


Sunday August 10, 2014
8:28pm
5 minutes
from an e-mail

According to Raymond everyone could hear us in the bathroom, but I’ve learned not to trust Raymond because he gets off on lying and making people believe every thing he says. I always told him he should be an actor because he was so good at messing with people; people he loves, mostly. Part of me wanted to believe that he was just doing that to me this time and that he didn’t even know what Carter and I were doing in the bathroom. Hell, we didn’t even know what was going on. It was just nice to see him; to feel him again. I wanted to be reserved and respectful of his wife. I wanted that and then suddenly there he was, and there I was tangled up in him on the bathroom sink. I wanted so badly for Raymond to be testing me. I employed my best actor smile and told him “we have nothing to hide.” I learned that you don’t ever admit something without having a direct question asked about it first. I learned that hard and fast one night in August-like a baseball coming straight for my face without the reflexes to catch it before destroying my nose, or knocking out a tooth. As I walked back into the crowded room I took a deep breath and looked around.

“Courier Mail and Daily Telegraph” by Sasha on her couch


Friday Aug 8, 2014
12:03am
5 minutes
http://www.taste.com

Nothing about this place made her feel comfortable. But it wasn’t about that. “Are you in line?” “No. Nope. Sorry…” She went to the frozen food section and took out a bag of peas and held it on her sacrum. She’d been sore since May. She thought about lying down, the peas underneath her, bringing her icy relief, and then she worried that all the ladies in their trackpants and their sweater sets might miss her. “You’re quite forgettable, aren’t you Liz?” Her mother used to say. She imagined these women, toddlers crying, cell phones ringing, rolling right over her with their shopping carts.

“Celebratory beverages” by Julia at Gimli beach


Saturday, August 9, 2014
3:23pm
5 minutes
from a text message


I have been saving a bottle of Veuve that was gifted to me by a man I thought was looking to be my sugar daddy 3 years ago. Turns out he was just insanely generous and sweet and wealthy and had already bought all the nice amusement parks for his kid and he didn’t know what else to spend his life’s earnings on. He also included a box of Earl Grey tea chocolate that taught me the true meaning of bergamot…and that I was too judgmental of people and things because of the superiority complex I began to nourish when I was in my early twenties. I was convinced that he wanted me to sleep with him and I was trying harder to convince myself that I didn’t, in fact, want a sugar daddy to take me on yachts and read me some dated poetry from the height of his teen years. I entertained the thought of running away with him for the weekends; flying to Paris on his private jet; feeling a weird fatherly yet romantic love that mostly just consisted of him calling me sweetie when we fucked and making sure I was always comfortable.

“Courier Mail and Daily Telegraph” by Julia in her bed


Friday Aug 8, 2014
2:05am
5 minutes
http://www.taste.com

I had been waiting for Gina’s response for over three weeks. It was her idea to keep sending lovely hand-written letters to each other once a week but she was getting really bad at it. Her first letters were so open and raw and I could see her mouthing the words as I read them because they just felt so honest. Then they started getting shorter, she’d stop responding to my questions in a way that reminded me of unrequited love by means of questionless text messages. She started signing all her letters with a lipstick kiss, something I always hated having to return due to the inadequate, small, pursed shape my kiss marks made (not the luscious kind you think is the only kind that creates a desirable or kissable mouth when you’re young). By this point Gina was signing her letters with a modest “G” and that was it. Surely she was busy or distracted, or had found a new friend to spend all her time writing quirky opinions to. But what bothered me most was the waiting for her response. I was busy too, or so I liked to believe, and I was always able to write to her.

“with MOSS FOLK” by Sasha on her couch


Thursday August 7, 2014
11:48pm
5 minutes
from the Wooden Shjips concert ticket


MOM! GUESS WHAT? WHAT? GUESS WHAT, I said! MOSSFOLK is looking for a bassist and I’m gonna apply! I’m gonna send them some mixed tapes and some photos of me with my hair both long and short! I’m gonna give them some really good examples of my work. And prove my dedication. Like, should I tell them that I used to work at Value Mart??! Or, would that work against me… Crap. MOSSFOLK is, like, my dream band. I couldn’t ask for a bigger, brighter opportunity… MOM! Are you even listening to me???

“wrongfully convicted of murder” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Wednesday August 6, 2014
12:18am
5 minutes
Blog TO

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, or, should I say, chosen ones of each racial and socio-economic group that represent this diverse and yet still prejudiced city. Ladies and gentlemen, look at this man. Look at his face. You might be thinking to yourself, “That is the face of a killer… Look how sullen he is, how forlorn, look how he rarely makes eye contact, how he mutters to himself… That is the face of a killer!” Look closer. Look beyond the bad haircut (sorry, Pete). Look for the lifetime of suffering, for the abuse, for the abandonment. Pain is easily dressed in robes of anger or fear, but it’s pain. Don’t fall victim to that blind man’s bluff. It’s pain, ladies and gentlemen. It’s pain there, that you see, on Pete Mathieson’s face. Did you know that by the time Pete was three, he’d been in seven different foster homes? Did you know that he was abused by an older foster brother… twice? Did you know that he is an insomniac and rarely gets more than an hour sleep a night? Now, look at that face…

“By a man’s fingernails,” by Sasha on her steps


Tuesday August 5, 2014
11:09pm
5 minutes
a quote by Sherlock Holmes

He’s circling low
Like a crow
He’s staking his claim
And it’s your name
He’s turning his eye
You’re not sure why
He’s staking his claim
And it’s your name
He’s taller than most
He’s not one to boast
He’s staking his claim
And it’s your name
He’s a shoot and a score
He always wants more
He comes in the dark
And he makes his mark
He’s staking his claim
And it’s your name
He’s quiet as a mouse
He enters your house
He makes you a cake
But it’s filled with worms.