“twists the whip” by Julia at her desk


Friday April 3, 2015
8:17pm
5 minutes
The Zurau Aphorisms
Franz Kafka


Twists the whip
Gets it ready
Practices in the mirror
One, two, Go on three
Takes one for the team.
His own team
He’s the captain and the coach
Ready
Ready
Ready
Today’s the day
The song sings in his head
Right now is the only thing that matters
Manic energy
Checking his watch
Tick
Tick
Boom
He’s off
And running
Twists the whip
Cracks it in the air
No more practice shots
It’s real now
It’s real life
Dangerous
Destructive
But he has his weapons
He has his tools
Don’t forget to breathe
He hears his mother’s voice in his ears
Don’t forget to feel
The magic urgency fuels him
It’s exactly as he imagined
Only nothing like he hoped
Twists the whip
Gets it ready
Now he’s ready

“A woman staggered into” by Julia at her desk


Thursday April 2, 2015
1:12am
5 minutes
Focus
Daniel Goleman


A woman staggered into a room filled with people locked in their cages. She was reluctant at first but when she arrived, she decided to follow through with herself.
She glanced around at all the bars, and ropes. Sad. Sad. Helpless. Sad.
She went about her business, gliding from one side of the room to the next, opening jars of jam and tasting her fruit-dipped fingers. She made eye contact with every single one of them. What are they doing here, what do they need? Why. Why. Helpless. Why.
Her freedom made them angry. And their hurt hearts thudded loud for all to hear.
Her self-awareness and self-love made them wish they could turn off their 80% brain.
You Are Not Good Enough. You Must Let Others Win. You Are Not As Important. Don’t Bother Trying To Achieve What You Desire. Forget Your Passions. Kill Your Dreams.
The smell of her lightness was pungent to the lot of them.

“Jeff Jones, I’ll kill you!” by Julia on her bed


Wednesday April 1, 2015
2:36am
5 minutes
Bulk Basics

I have had it up to HERE with you JEFF JONES. Oh don’t smile at me you smug piece of shit, I will end you before you can even raise your eyebrows in that cocky ass way one more time. That’s right, I’m angry. I’ve said it and I stand by it. What were you thinking? Seriously, do you have an explanation or are you going to play the “This is just who I am BULLSHIT CARD?” Cause it is bullshit. You afraid or something? Is that why you’re so guarded and so resistant to help? Cause you secretly hate yourself? Well guess what, we all hate ourselves sometimes if not at all times so I don’t give a shit if you feel a little less self-love. It’s NOT AN EXCUSE, JEFF FUCKING JONES. Even your name makes me recoil. It’s such a pretentious name. You remind me of that two first names guy, Jeff David, from high school that everyone liked because he had spiky hair and a bad attitude. He was an asshole, Jeff. And just because you share the same name doesn’t mean you have to share the same behaviour. Now. Let’s discuss it. I don’t want to even HEAR any excuses!

“Traditionally served with rice” by Julia on her bed


Tuesday March 31, 2015
12:42am
5 minutes
overheard at Culprit Coffee Co.

There’s a stinging silence as he introduces his family to the love of his life.
He had expected this and prepared for it, but it is still happening. It is still real.
She is not the same as him (Thank God) in more ways than one.
They’re the reasons he loves her so deeply. They’re the reasons he needs her, specifically her, and why she is irreplaceable.
She calls him on his shit and challenges him when he’s being wishy-washy.
She teaches him about sharing, and avoiding waste, and saving money.
She always makes eye contact when they’re speaking.
She makes him want to play and explore and experience.
She also happens to be a hazel eyed red head with perfect freckles and a collection of fashionable wide brimmed hats.
His family wants something different for him. Something closer to what they know.
Something traditionally served with rice.

“This is a highly competitive, adjudicated process” by Julia at the Bloor/gladstone public library


Monday March 30, 2015 at the TPL
5:46pm
5 minutes
The BC Arts Council website

I have never been so nervous! I’m sweating behind my knees and I’m gassy like a bagel on a cow’s hip. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING? BECAUSE I CARE WAY TOO MUCH?? IS IT MY FAULT? I just want them to like me. To accept me and recognize me for my efforts. I think that’s a normal human thing to want. But this is big. It’s not just like, oh, you didn’t gain approval, it means, oh, you didn’t get funding, validation, encouragement to continue trying, etc, etc. I’m fully aware of the competition. I don’t want to be the kind of person who competes with the people out there who compete in these things for sport. But can a nobody compete against his or herself? Can this be turned into a positive somehow? I can’t think, I just want this. But did I do enough work to earn it? I don’t know, I’m sitting here waxing ridiculous to a bunch of overly medicated rich people who all equally believe that their kid deserves this over me.

“Welcome to the playground of the future” by Julia on the 505 going west


Sunday March 29, 2015
6:37pm
5 minutes
A TIFF kids TTC ad

Join me on the moon
and we’ll shoot spit balls down below
trying to hit the people in love
the ones who tongue kiss at the bus stop
we’ll laugh and we’ll touch our skin together
we’ll weave a human bracelet out of our heart strings
we’ll tie them together so when one of us moves
the other gets tugged along
back and forth
we seesaw with our metaphors, two points of equilibrium
I’ll bake cookies for the occasion
buttery ones with some kind of special chip
not chocolate though cause what’s the point?
I’ll save you a spot right beside me on the mountain
and we’ll send paper airplanes of our promises to each other
down below so somebody else may see
just what I mean to you
and just what you mean to me
on my list it’ll say To Hold Your Face In My Hands Once A Day
on yours you could put something along the lines of
To Smile From The Core Of Me Whenever Possible
And we’ll have designed the rules to our very own board game
Making sure that number one is We Both Win Always Always

“WOMAN SENTENCED FOR BUTT INJECTIONS” by Julia at her desk


Saturday March 28, 2015
1:19am
5 minutes
An unknown transit newspaper

Not a crime, is it, to want a better backside? I don’t know when butts became so in demand. What makes a great butt? I know the answer is one that can have a bowel movement whenever necessary. I know about functionality, let me tell you a story. Oh you really want a story? Shoot. Once upon a time, there was a human being that could not have a bowel movement and it really really sucked. The end. I mean, where do you go from there? And I’m not talking about the humans who don’t have pleasant bowel movements, cause that is a very different category. I am convinced there is no such thing as a human who can not expel waste from the usual place. I believe that if there did exist such a creature it would be an old wives tale. But…then again, I don’t read the news so I only know, in total, like, a handful of things about this world, and butt conditions is definitely on the speculative list

“Traditionally served with rice” by Sasha in the bath


Tuesday March 31, 2015
10:13pm
5 minutes
Bulk Basics

He looks at the menu and isn’t sure what to make of anything – the symbols are jumbled, there are red peppers dancing in the corners, the numbers are the words is the address are the burrito toppings!
“Please excuse me, I’m just going to go to the bathroom.” He stands before she can say, “Of course,” and he’s through the door with a moustache and a sombrero before she can have another sip of her margarita. He gazes into his own eyes, something he doesn’t recommend usually, but this evening is different. He rubs at his forehead – trying to scratch off the five letters scrawled across it. He sees a flash of Polly, hair short, eyes glinting. “You need to get lost right now, honey! I’m on a date!” W-I-D-O-W. He washes his face. He goes into the stall and sits on the closed toilet. The tears come faster than he’s ever felt and before he can blow his nose, the sombrero door is open. “Oliver? Are you alright?” He sits straight up. “This is the, uh, men’s room! I think you chose the wrong door!” “It’s me, it’s Jillian…” He stands, takes a deep breath and opens the door.