“I’ll try and take it off” by Julia at Mina’s Fabric


Thursday January 29, 2015 at Minas Fabric
4:33pm
5 minutes
overheard at Mina’s Fabric

I’ll try and take it off-the layer of whatever it is I’ve been hiding behind.
I used to be such a pretty girl. Such a pretty pretty girl. And he’d sing to me from the top of the stairs, “I see you and I see you because you make it so hard not to.” And I’d feel like I belonged to something perfect on this earth even if his love didn’t last and his opinion of me changed.
I had to consciously say that out loud to the next one once–that I’d try and take it off—because he looked at me with such kind eyes, but in a confused way as if he desperately wished he could see through the wall and share a moment in my soul–just swimming around, testing the water.
I have to say it out loud so I can remind myself that sometimes it’s more for me than for anyone else: that it’s hard to see clearly just as it is to be seen clearly.
I think of that searching look he gave me when I need to stop myself from fading…

“Sell it to me! I want to fix it!” by Julia on the 63 going North


Wednesday January 28, 2015
1:12am
5 minutes
Sasha’s notebook

Well I went through a phase in my life where all I wanted to do was sell bracelets made out of human teeth. It was a longer phase than maybe I’d like to/should admit. I thought it would be really sweet to market to mothers–you know, Never Forget How Precious Your Child Once Was…
It was a strange endeavour, I know that it was, because you’d have to wait a couple years to get enough good teeth for a bracelet, but you’d have to have permission first and the whole thing. So I sold one or two bracelets. I knew there would be some people interested. And by some I mean…just the two. I don’t know if they bought them out of admiration for the craft or out of fear that if they didn’t I would cast some witchy voodoo curse on them, because honest to God, who collects and then sells human teeth?

“Sell it to me! I want to fix it!” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Wednesday January 28, 2015
9:19pm
5 minutes
Sasha’s notebook

Sell me your shit! I wanna make it cool! I wanna fix it! Sell it to me cheap! I can do better than you, but I’m to laz-yyyyy! Gimme dat blanket – Imma make it a pillow. BANG! Gimme dat dreamcatcher! Imma catch some real randy dreams! Sell me your shit! I’m jonesin’ for a nice hit of… STUFF! Your stuff. Your old, used, wet, wilted, sticky, sexy, slimy, gross, gorgeous stuff. Imma make a soup outta it and let that shit simmer simmer simmer. Have a garage sale, biatch, and I’ll be the only muthafuckah there!

“2 hours or longer” by Sasha in lecture


Tuesday January 27, 2015
12:30pm
5 minutes
the Air Canada cafe booklet

How to hold a stranger’s hand

Sitting on the bus
Minding your own headphones
You watch the rain make caterpillars
on the window.

A woman sits beside you
A purple poncho dripping droplets
on your leg

Disgruntled
you look
Sideways
You wonder if she’s crying or if she’s just your age
You cross the divide of leg touching

You take her hand

She pulls away but not
completely
She looks like a damp version of you
only a little in the future

Friend

The water’s calm
Or
Maybe it’s just the Bay
You sit on one of twelve big logs
You wonder if they’ve been here tripe the time
that you have

A man
walking a small dog
who barks at the gulls
He sits
Not near enough to reach
But near enough for you to know

You go to him
Five
Six steps

You take his hand

He smiles
He calls the name of his dog
loud enough for only you to hear

“Man vs. Wolves” by Sasha on the 99 going West


Monday January 26, 2015
12:42pm
5 minutes
from Outside Magazine

You start the storm with your face
Curving open
Teeth like wolves
The glaciers are melting and all we can do is
pop pills and peel back the bark
When the rain comes it comes hard
You brace your
self
You reach deeper down than you’ve ever reached
You scream for the erosion and the oil and the money
You’ve got none of it
You plant your heels and you
pray
The drought was predicted by the preacher
She said
It’s gonna be dry
dry like a miracle
She said
The rain was summoned by
You
Good Lord
Good sweet wolves and monarchs and salmon
Sweep the demons under the roots
Tangle
Get away while you still can

“2 hours or longer” by Julia on the plane


Tuesday January 27, 2015
12:30pm
5 minutes
the Air Canada cafe booklet

Saw him standing by the vending machine. He was biting the inside of his top lip again. There’s a little flap of skin that he likes to chew when he’s focused. His fingers were in his pockets fiddling with a twist-tie or a beer cap. I didn’t see in his pockets but that’s the stuff that’s usually in there. I was already late to meet him but I stood where I was, watching him from my hiding place,and wondering if this was the real him. Alone. Unknowingly being spied on. I could have stood there for 2 hours or longer, just making assumptions and being deeply curious about this human. It made me question if anyone really knows anyone at all. If everyone has a secret self that even we don’t know about..

“Man vs. Wolves” by Julia on her couch


Monday January 26, 2015
12:08am
5 minutes
from Outside Magazine

It takes a pack of them to keep me down. A pack of them, all fired up and caged for too long. Otherwise I’m like they are, clawing my way through hearts…and the flesh that was born to protect them. I see the moon and I transform into a nightmare. Into a bloody, toothy, shit eating grin. I’m the face that the dark stays dark for. And it’s not anger. It’s not rage. It’s torment and pain and obsession and truth. It’s raw like the wild and dangerous like the wind.

“Sunday’s paper still lies flat open from earlier” by Julia a St. Vital Curling Club


Sunday January 25, 2015
2:36pm
5 minutes
adult-mag.com

Sunday’s paper still lies flat open from earlier. Hard not to have a glance at it. Even harder not to read it. But that’s what I’ve done. Walked past an open Sunday paper. Ignored the headlines and the information. Pretended like the words were part of a big print painting. An impressionist’s grand masterpiece. And that’s what I’ve done. Avoidance. It was big in my family so I have half a mind to blame it on them. Sitting pretty in an airtight bubble of blissful ignorance. We talk about movie stars and phone bills, garlic powder and cobwebs. The time for learning is now and it haunts me. If I passed by my sister’s journal, lying flat open on the kitchen table, would I steal 3 minutes just to read it? Or would I ignore that too?

“Isn’t that the same thing?” By Julia on her couch


Saturday January 24, 2015
6:29pm
5 minutes
The Green-ish pilot

Ari told me to ask the Universe for what I wanted in life and make it very specific. She said, “what’s the harm in asking?” And I didn’t have an answer so I told her I didn’t know and that I would try it this weekend. I realized she wanted me to do it in that very moment while she was there so she could share it with me, but I’ve never been very good at asking for help and I didn’t want her to catch me in the middle of my ineptitude. It would shine brightly, stick out like a sore thumb, and remind everyone that I don’t have a clue. So I thought of Ari as I walked home in the most perfect light and Canadian snow, and wondered for the first time if asking was actually easy..Once you strip it bare of its shame and crippling vulnerability…
I remembered once asking my dad if he could lend me $1100.00. Some might argue that asking him or the universe was actually the same thing..

“I never used to notice this awful quiet” by Julia on her couch


Friday January 23, 2015
1:16pm
5 minutes
from a song by The Be Good Tanyas

Stings like pine needles pricked into my brain-
Where have you been?
Don’t bother me with little words.
I begged you not to leak here.
I asked you nicely not to unload real feelings near this.
And you cry cry cry.
Faucet leaky and abandoned.
Then I hear the high pitched song of the radiators. About to explode. About to change tunes forever-Where you’ve been don’t bother me. But where you are I can’t seem to wrap my head around.
Are you happy now? Are you here? I never noticed this sadness. I always saw it from a distance, bleeding into the landscape before. Now it’s mine and it’s heavy and it’s not just a blurred line off beyond the horizon. Now it’s mine and it’s loud. This crippling tender quiet.

“there’s nothing to switch on” by Julia at Pearson Airport


Thursday January 22, 2015
4:10pm
5 minutes
enRoute magazine
January 2015


The girl overreacted. I watched her do it. Someone cut in front of her in line at the dollar store. She reacted. It was over the top. An overreaction, you know. She looked like she was searching for answers-as if they’d come by opening and closing her eyes rapidly. I wanted to yell at her, “Hey! There’s nothing to switch on!” But it wouldn’t have been worth it. It wouldn’t have meant anything to her. I think she was just one of those empty birds, desperate to hold onto something. The type of girl who says, “I’m not much of a reader. I don’t have the attention span.” Or “I prefer audio books cause then your eyes don’t get tired.” Or “Each to his own. Each to his own.”

“helped you make connections” by Julia on Jess’ couch


Wednesday January 21, 2015
1:26am
5 minutes
from a e-mail from Twitter

Don’t be scared of putting your best foot forward. Now I know you’re one of those people who blame fear of success, of actually getting what you want, for not being productive, proactive, brave. I have to tell you that because I don’t want you to think that I don’t know that it’s a real thing people do or that it’s common.
I know all about that stuff, and there’s no judgment here. I’m just letting you know that if you have the ability, that’s half the battle. I mean, sometimes people want to excel in areas where they don’t have any knowledge. You. You at least have some capabilities so you’re ahead of the game in the sense that no one has to teach you those things. The thing I will teach you, though, is how to love yourself and how to stop believing that fear is a suitable excuse.

“your your ene me” by Julia at Jess’ kitchen table


Tuesday January 20, 2015
11:21pm
5 minutes
from Hairspray Queen
Kurt Cobain Journals


You’ve got that “I have to win” look in your eyes.
You don’t know how to not have it. Need to.
Want to.
Get to.
You do.
You’ve got that thing.
And it’s not just a look.
And it’s not just an idea.
It’s a desire, carnal, tangy.
It’s deep down.
Deep deep down-
Ocean blue black, immaculate.
Where you keep all your truths-
Where you let them wear sea pearls and dance together in the dark.
Win it.
Win this.
Fighting to win.
Fighting to fight.
Cause if you lose it-
If you ever give up on that look in your eyes-
The one telling you to rise up and take it
earn it
deserve it
own it-
Then you’ll be dark, midnight waves.
You’ll be deep dark like the hidden-
And imagined.

“Sunday’s paper still lies flat open from earlier” by Sasha on her living room floor


Sunday January 25, 2015
10:24am
5 minutes
adult-mag.com

It’s okay if you wanna talk about the rain and where to get the best push up bra in this rainy city. It’s okay if you wanna not eat sugar (even the kind that’s like a birthday present from Mother Nature… Maple syrup, anyone?) It’s okay if you wanna leave yourself every once and a while, vis a vis bourbon or weed or MDMA. It’s okay if you bail on me, for the third time in two weeks, via a sad face and a missed call (me to you). It’s okay if you wanna purge your closet, selling your clothes for a fraction of what you paid, only to spend more on new clothes and new clothes and new clothes. It’s okay if you forget about the anniversary of my brother’s death and then ask why I’m not coming out tonight and then get awkward when I say why. It’s okay if you just wanna come over and lie on the floor with me and suck your thumb like you used to and be in the big silence.

“Isn’t that the same thing?” By Sasha in the Green Room at the Vancouver Playhouse


Saturday January 24, 2015
6:32pm
5 minutes
The Green-ish pilot

Every time I set out to write something sexy, I end up writing about oatmeal or the ocean or someone yelling. Or moving, I write about moving a lot, too. You know when you read something and you’re like, “GODDAMNIT I SHOULDA WRITTEN THAT! THAT SHOULDA BEEN MINE!” Or that moment when you read about a play opening on Broadway that’s about pretty much the exact same thing you’ve been been writing for oh, four years? That moment is really cute. For me, it usually means a knot in my stomach and a bowl of popcorn. Maybe an episode of Nashville. What about the times when you write something that’s so brilliant you know it’s going to not only change your own life, but change other people’s lives too? Then, the big resounding questions is –

how are you going to spread your words like honey across the earth?

“I never used to notice this awful quiet” by Sasha in front of the fireplace


Friday January 23, 2015
10:36pm
5 minutes
from a song by The Be Good Tanyas

Taking into account all the times I’ve lied
I make a shadow puppet collage on the wall and throw a teabag at it
It sticks
YES
I’ll peel it off in the morning
Read the leaves
A gypsy of relentless love and misunderstanding
Wild like the moon
Deep like the desert
“You’re so sensitive” you say
Like it’s a curse
Like it’s a bad thing
“No, no” you say
“That’s not what I mean”
And then
Two hours later
Two emojis in place of words
Of something I can hold on to
A heart
A hand
waving

“there’s nothing to switch on” by Sasha on the 99 going East


Thursday January 22, 2015
5:19pm
5 minutes
enRoute magazine
January 2015


I’m glad that you’re living your life, Bets, but there are some of us that don’t have the privilege of touring around the the God damn world for two years! Some of us have to W-O-R-K! I know you’re pretty into being radical and telling us stories about when you stole, or ate three pizzas in one day or when you had a threesome in Venice… But, like… Do you think we actually care? I’m going to spin class and giving tired blow jobs to Ken and trying to forget about the fact that this is just the beginning of a VERY LONG WINTER. I’m really happy for you that your Instagram feed is more important than your dignity. Good for friggen you. I’m not jealous. I have no desire to abandon every single person I love for a two years of a selfish “me” party. Gag me! Gag me, Bets!

“helped you make connections” by Sasha on her couch


Wednesday January 21, 2015
7:45pm
5 minutes
from a e-mail from Twitter

As soon as you got Gus you knew that he would help you make connections. You were walking him, before even the sun rose, and you met a woman in a red coat who bent down and ooh-ed and ahh-ed over him. When she stood up, cheeks flushed with the morning and Gus’ newness, she said, “Hi.” You knew that people were stopping for him, not for you, but that was okay. By default you were part of their puppy experience. When you were home alone with Gus it was less interesting. There was more pee on the carpet and bite marks in your favourite runners.

“your your ene me” by Sasha in her bed


Tuesday January 20, 2015
12:12pm
5 minutes
from Hairspray Queen
Kurt Cobain Journals


She’s waiting for her Saving Grace at the corner of East and West
The stop light is yellow indefinitely
Cruising back and forth
She’s a scattered ashes kinda train wreck
Taken by the wind
Up up up
Unsure if she’s coming back again
Taken by the rain
Away away away
She won’t quit her crying
She’s waiting for her Saviour on the corner of North and South

“I might be” by Sasha at Matchstick Coffee Roasters


Monday January 19, 2015 at Matchstick Coffee Roasters
5:12pm
5 minutes
from a poster in Ricardo’s studio

I might be the only one here with any real love in my life. Sorry. I don’t mean that in an arrogant way but like, I feel badly because in some ways it feels like I shouldn’t even be here, you know? Why am I fucked up when I’ve got all this love going on all over the damn place?

We have mice. My roommate and I. And she’s new so I feel like a dick that’s been leaving granola out or something… Which I have been doing… I just, like, I forget, you know, I forget about wiping the counter. There’s better shit to do.

My name is Alana and I’m an… Shit. This is so fucking weird. It feels contrived. Or, like… I don’t think I belong here. I might be that one person that everyone looks at like, “I feel bad for you…” Feel bad for me! Do it! I dare you!

“When did we leave for thing there?” By Sasha at her kitchen table


Sunday January 18, 2015
10:10pm
5 minutes
Overheard at Julia’s aunt’s house

Little one, if you call? I’ll be there before you can say my name again, before you can blink twenty times, before you get scared. If you’re tucked in and you get a chill, close your eyes and imagine you’re on the beach and the ocean is coo-ing you and crashing you to warmth and sleep. My baby, the nightmares come, they do, I’m sorry, but so do the ecstatic dreams of present and future. When the nightmares come just meet them. Meet them, don’t run. They’ll chase you if you try to get away. Face them and say, “HEY! YOU!” And be patient because maybe around the next corner is something fabulous. When we leave things behind, we rarely need to go back for them, they are usually good just where they are. I love you, monkey, I love you fiercely and massively. I love you wider than the sky.

“Start a group play team” by Sasha at YYoga Kitsilano


Saturday January 17, 2015
8:13pm
5 minutes
from a lotto 649 ticket

We touch noses in the morning and we touch toes in the evening.
We pull the couch over to where we can watch the rain.
We watch the rain.
We sniff armpits and shoes and bellybuttons.
We learn the smell of the wet places and the warm places.
We make breakfast wrapped in a dreamy haze of circuses and Hollywood.
We leave things tidier than we found them, in general.
Sometimes we don’t. Those time we feel badly, but not badly enough to regret anything.
We smile when we listen to the songs that give us gifts, wrapped in packages with cards that say:
Christmas 2012.
Your 24th.
My 28th.
We flip through photographs and kiss our former selves.

“Feathers and flowers” by Sasha at Nirvana Restaurant


Friday January 16, 2015 at Nirvana
5:32pm
5 minutes
from a 2015 calendar

Biggest fear? Mediocrity.
Likes? Snapping (although I’m useless at it). Bacon. Fire. Bob Dylan.
Birthday? Nope.
Coffee or tea? Water.
Cigarettes or blow? Pretentious ass.
Shoe size? Nine.
God? Yes! Please!
Bath or shower? Shower.
Train or plane? Bus. (The grimier the better).
Knife or fork? FORK.
Black and white or colour? Colour. Especially green.
Dislikes? Cold. Entitlement. Beer. The Beatles.
Car? Ha.
Breakfast? Toast and jam.

“made with real almonds” by Sasha on the 25 towards Main St.


Thursday January 15, 2015
6:29pm
5 minutes
from the Earth’s Own Almond Milk carton

Hmmm. Hmmmmm. Hmm. Hm.

This bus this bus is chock-a-block full of elbows and parted hair.

Hmmm. Hmmmmm. Hmm. Hm.

This bus is all almond skin and raspberry kissy lips.

Hmmm. Hmmmmm. Hmm. Hm.

Going to a little spot to tell a story and sing a song.

Hmmm. Hmmmmm. Hmm. Hm.

Neither are mine. I’m borrowing!

Hmmm. Hmmmmm. Hmm. Hm.

The stories I share. They are half mine.

Hmmm. Hmmmmm. Hmm. Hm.

The song belongs to my sister.

“laugh-out-loud funny.” By Sasha in the bath


Wednesday January 14, 2015
10:51pm
5 minutes
From the i heart huckabees DVD case

I’m writing secrets on leaves again. It’s less poetic then it sounds. I want them to dissolve into the mud in the backyard. Chuck is buried there, maybe the secrets will sink into him. That’s what makes it hard. To sell the house. That’s what makes it the hardest. Chuck and the secrets – all of them just back there and knowing that someone else might find the bones and the veins and the letter “S” or “X”. I’ve got this one down pat – the packing and the taping. But the leaving? The leaving is tough.

“Walking and talking” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Tuesday January 13, 2015
11:42pm
5 minutes
Brave New World
Aldous Huxley


Open hands
She puts a green pea there
Near the life-line
Near the river leading towards me
Drifting like snow
Clean
Better than before
Riper with age
Avocado on the table
No other fruits or vegetables
Walking and talking
Like rain
Anyway
Back to the point
She puts the pea on her tongue
Lets it rest there
Let’s rest there

“I might be” by Julia on Jessica’s couch


Monday January 19, 2015
8:40am
5 minutes
from a poster in Ricardo’s studio

I might be lost
I might be confused
I might be hurt
I might be sad
I might be broken open
I might be letting in the everything
I might be too naked
I might be too analytical
I might be too exposed
I might be getting infections
I might be growing
I might be expanding
I might be learning
I might be transforming
I might be forlorn
I might be overflowing
I might be expressing
I might be adjusting
I might be returning
I might be reliving
I might be remembering
I might be better
I might be worse
I might be stuck in my body
I might be breaking free of my old skin
I might be making assumptions
I might be transcending the space between oceans
I might be self actualizing
I might be developing a new form to exist in with a tougher shell
I might be more prepared now
I might be home

“When did we leave for thing there?” By Julia on Jessica’s couch


Sunday January 18, 2015
12:47am
5 minutes
Overheard at Julia’s aunt’s house

Okay so there was this trip, right? We went together to thing there, what was it called? The Dominican! Never mind. We went with what’s his name, John there, and it was nice that he came with us because now we have photos together. We were on the dance floor one night just letting lose, and the next day he um, John, he shows us the whole night of us dancing and eating that good pasta there, you know at the nice italian place I was telling you about. So nice, I gotta tell you right, cause I didn’t know he was snapping away the whole time and capturing us, what’s that word there, candid! He captured us together all candid and they’re nice because I also have some of us standing by the fountain, but we both know it’s a photo and our smiles look bad. But the ones thing there took, John, look so nice and we look happy. It’s always better to have a friend come on your vacation so you can remember how happy you actually are.

“Start a group play team” by Julia at her parents’ kitchen table


Saturday January 17, 2015
11:32am
5 minutes
from a lotto 649 ticket

We’ve got a good team
We fight the bad guys and we cuddle a lot
We make jokes about the mean ones and we tap forks before we eat
We make sure no negativity gets in and we play catch in the park outside our house
We build barriers so no harm can enter and we kiss like two puzzle pieces that were meant to complete the other
We don’t leave the bedroom cause it’s safer inside and we double dip our honey hands into the bag of liquorish chews
We’ve got a good team
We laugh and we live and we squeeze and we breathe
We do it together and no one can stop us
We do it together cause we know winning is really only happiness and happiness is winning

“Feathers and flowers” by Julia on her parents’ couch


Friday January 16, 2015
5:19pm
5 minutes
from a 2015 calendar

He got me a necklace with a feather on it. It was really pretty and made my eyes stand out. That was the first thing he ever bought me like that. I remember him saying once that he just wanted to spoil me but not with gifts or clothes or jewelry…But with touching and love and food and laughter. Probably because he really wouldn’t know where to start if he were buying me jewelry. And it made me happy to know that he knew me enough to give me what I needed and not what he thought I wanted. The feather necklace was beautiful because I was never expecting him to gift me something tangible in the form of something beautiful. My expectations for love are high. He promised me that. Now I want it forever.

“made with real almonds” by Julia at Amanda’s kitchen counter


Thursday January 15, 2015
2:29pm
5 minutes
from the Earth’s Own Almond Milk carton

So my brother got sick once and turned into the kind of guy who reads labels and won’t put anything into his body without a reason. Like a good solid reason, like “fixing” “helping” “improving” “nourishing”.
All of these things are fine and I’m happy he does it cause he should do it. But I just got so bored about discussing this with you that I literally fell asleep for one minute there. I just went off to a distant land. And now I remember what we were talking about and I totally see why. The “point” is, sickness=health for some people and some people=boring life because of it. The “point” I was trying to make, was that you’ll be fine. You might even be better than you are now. But you have to start reading labels and being okay with not telling any more good stories.