“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