“I was just, like, wondering” by Sasha at W Caffe


Friday, April 10, 2015 at W Caffe
1:24pm
5 minutes
Overheard at W Caffe

I was just, like, wondering if maybe I could go out tonight? Papa? I’m just gonna turn down your program for a minute because I need your permission, or, I’m wondering if I could – … So there’s a, a, friend, a new friend that I made in my Chess Club and h – … they invited me out to a, a place… I’ll ride my bike and maybe take a taxi home? May I? Papa?

There’s nothing I can do to convince you? I don’t really think it’s fair because I’m seventeen and other girls are allowed to go out on a Friday and I’m already done my homework for the whole weekend… I did practice the violin.

COME ON! I do well in school! I come straight home every day! How many times have I asked you for something like this? Do you want me to start sneaking around like every other teenager?!

“These jokes are for intellectuals only. ” By Sasha outside of Whole Foods on W 4th


Thursday, April 9, 2015
4:42pm
5 minutes
higherperspectives.com

I’m gonna take just a few minutes of your time… Like, three, yeah, five minutes. If I make you laugh, you gotta give me ten dollars, okay? Okay. A mushroom walks into a and sidles up to this super hot redhead. He sits down beside her. He’s like, “Babe, can I buy you a drink?” She rolls her eyes and is like, “Um, NO.” He order a shot of tequila and says, “Why? I’m a FUN GUY!” Like, get it? Like, FUNGHI?! Like, mushroom?! Why aren’t you laughing? That’s my best one, lady, I don’t know what you thought I was gonna say, I mean… Are you one of those intellectuals that only really laugh at, like, clever jokes, like the kind in The New Yorker? Not my fucking brand.

“Bitch better have my money” by Sasha on the 99 going East


Wednesday, April 8, 2015
6:25pm
5 minutes
Better Have My Money
Rihanna


black eye magenta dream smoking gun lemon water blue pulse bank statements birch bark juxtaposition rejection rainbow rainbow bitch better have my money publish publish kick the habit wearing the same thing weeks and weeks it’s raining again rainbow we can cross our fingers for that we can cross our fingers for the cardboard recycling we can cross our fingers for a good sweet spot cheesecake redhead lettuce cucumber slice slice the knife coffin of circumstance unsure unsure backpack straps digging into flesh inconsequential tattoos

“Are you free” by Sasha on a bench at UBC


Tuesday, April 7, 2015
10:25pm
5 minutes
From a text message

Not sure how I got here but Goddamn am I glad that I am…
Remember last night? Blurry blurry foggy head like cobwebs, man, like sticky cobwebs…
We made a pact, right? Blood brothers?
Army pants were on the floor this morning and I was like, What the fuck?
Man, did you bring me home?
Whole 24 pack, right?
Trying to quit smoking but, like, it’s hard man, it’s so, like, deep.
The craving.
It’s from my cuts.
It’s from my guts.
Forgetabout it.
Want a Red Bull? I think I’ve got one in my backpack.
Fuck.
Where’s my backpack?
Man, have you seen my backpack?

“Your values” by Sasha on her couch


Monday, April 6, 2015
12:25pm
5 minutes
From a bookmark

You’ve got the value
You’ve got the game
You’ve got the pace
You’ve got the flame
You’ve got the smile
You’ve got the heart
You’ve got the garlic
You’ve got the smarts
You’ve got the face
You’ve got the mind
You’ve got the songs
You’re one of a kind
You’ve got the run
You’ve got the bat
You’ve got the coat
You’ve got the fat
You’ve got the sweat
You’ve got the guts
You’ve got the monkey
You’ve got the mutts

“Is it coffee time yet?” by Sasha on Sarah’s bed in Abbotsford


Sunday, April 5, 2015
11:14pm
5 minutes
Overheard at the bus station in Kitchener

She ties the rubber in a knot and flicks the white liquid. She scrunches her nose. She adds it to the jar. Thirty five. She texts Bec. “Up yer game bitch”. Flat Face Pug Man was completely quiet when he came. His Flat Face barely changed. She’d watch them, all of them, number six through til now, focused on the tiny muscles around their eyes, the purse of the lips, the flexing biceps.

“Thank you for using Bell, how may I help you today?” She gulps from her coffee mug. “Nancy?” She recognizes the voice. Her heart drops, a bomb in her stomach. “Hold please…” She crawls under her desk and sucks her thumb. Chris finds her like that, three hours later. “Are you okay?” She nods. Her phone vibrates on the cubicle desk above her head. “It’s from Bec,” says Chris, getting down on his knees and taking her face in his hands.