“There is a pay parking garage” by Julia in her bed


Friday March 10, 2017
7:40pm
5 minutes
from an email

The other day I gathered up my courage in a ball and I threw it as far as I could. I had to see how far it would land. I was aiming for the open door. When I couldn’t hear it crashing off the sidewalk I wondered if it had gotten squashed by a car or stuck on a branch instead. I pictured it deflating slowly, as it attempted to free itself from the tangle that I had forced it into. I couldn’t help but think that maybe I didn’t have enough courage to begin with, and it wasn’t the right kind of heavy to travel without being carried by the wind. I convinced myself I had to be patient; wait until there was more courage to choose from; pick the strongest looking stuff and stick it to the weaker ones did next time.

Suddenly, I realized, my curiosity had forced my legs out into the street. Out in the street to meet courage.

“Definition of knowledge” by Julia on her couch


Thursday March 9, 2017
11:00pm
5 minutes
from an email

Mama says not to ask him for help with opening jars. She says try to do it on your own. She says visualize yourself opening it. She says breathe through it. She says by any means necessary. Mama teaches you the elastic trick and the knife knocking. Says to pop the bottom. Say to run it under hot water. Says to uses a wet rag. Says to visualize yourself asking for help and him looking smug. Mama says don’t let him look that way. Mama says make it a habit you forget how to break.