“You are a joke cookie” by Sasha at her desk

Sunday November 5, 2017
11:23pm
5 minutes
From the postcard from Amanda

You, MR. SWANSON, are a joke cake, doughnut, um, loaf, no… cookie. YES! That’s it! You’re a JOKE COOKIE! You may not think that it’s your best attribute, but I do, oh I do. You are most possibly the funniest manager I’ve ever had. NO! You’re the funniest man I’ve ever met! NOW, I know that this might mean that I’ll be in some sort of trouble, but no one appreciates you, MR. SWANSON. In fact! Everyone says terrible things behind your back. “He looks like a turtle,” that kind of thing.

“You are a joke cookie” by Julia on her couch

Sunday November 5, 2017
11:44pm
5 minutes
From the postcard from Amanda

I never meant to run this dry. This many days in a row without even attempting to find the joy behind the keys. And I never understood the power of peripheral vision until now. How have I always been such a tentative typer with this new feature? I am crumbling cookie dry like an over baked chicken over baked chick and I never meant to be. I never meant to fall apart. I have been avoiding some truths to myself and spilling the beans to him.  During the full moon I tell him that I feel like I’m being wasted. He tells me he’s sorry. I have been avoiding. Didn’t want the back ache, the carpal tunnel, the magical erase button. Didn’t want the proof of purchase. So dry the cookie forgets to laugh at itself. So dry the cookie thinks about milk for the first time in years. So dry the cookie asks for help. So dry the cookie tells a joke. Nobody laughs. I never meant to fall apart.

“We rent a condominium together” by Sasha at JJ Bean on Cambie

Monday October 30, 2017
5:58pm at JJ Bean
5 minutes
Telling Time
Philip Kelly

I never thought I’d be a condo-dweller, I mean, I do not like heights, I do not like being high up off of the ground. But when Ezra said that there was a place for sale in the Button Buildings, I mean… We’d be fools not to jump on that! And it was a private sale! I mean, come on…

We thought we might rent it out and move in a few years later, make a bit on the rental, save… But Ezra found another rat in the apartment on Cliff St. And he couldn’t take it anymore. I hate vermin but I’ve lived in New York, so… I came home from work and Ezra was already packing! HA! We hadn’t found the right people to rent the condo either, so. It was all meant to be. It really was. I can’t believe that we’re homeowners. Trippy.

“swallowing harder than she intended” by Sasha at the casita

Saturday October 21, 2017
11:00am
5 minutes
The Touch of Aphrodite
Joanna Mansell

You swallow.
I reach across the table and take your hand.
You pull away.
You reach backwards.
Are you stretching?
Are you grasping for…
“Let’s go get ice cream,” I say.
You wrinkle your forehead.
I know this shape well.
You swallow.
“I’m sorry, babe.” I say.
“I know.” You say.
I can’t believe I’ve done it again.
I swallow.
There’s love in your eyes back behind the disappointment.
I hate disappointing you.
A crow flies past the window.
She looks in on us.
She gives sympathy and a caw.
You love crows.
You talk about getting a crow tattoo on your back.
I try to dissuade you usually.
I wouldn’t if you mentioned it now.
“Let’s go get ice cream,” I say.
“It’s raining,” you say. “And freezing cold.”
I stand up and stretch against the counter
Sticking my ass into the back of your head.
“Stop that, Sophie,” you say.
I wiggle.
“Stop,” you say, but softer.

“Space Womb” by Sasha at the casita

Sunday October 15, 2017
6:39pm
5 minutes
YouTube.com

I’ve got a Space Womb
What about you
Today she’s dripping
Brown red beauty
How about you
Today I light candles
In my Space Womb
She likes it warm
And dim
Today I eat and eat
Space Womb’s orders
Today I say
Don’t touch
To my lover
Space Womb is discerning
Moon is Waning Crescent
Space is close
Space is here
Space is in me
Like fire

“She is giant and bossy and funny as hell.” By Sasha at the casita

Saturday, October 14, 2017
2:10pm
5 minutes
From a text

Darla, you gotta meet her. She’s giant and bossy and funny as hell. When you get her going she will not stop. She will make joke after joke until you really have to say, “Darla, you must be quiet. You must stop talking!” She must be close to six feet, and she’s got the biggest breasts anyone has ever seen. It’s problematic only for those of us that come up to her nipples and have a bard time seeing her face. She has this great bit about how both her parents are half a foot shorter than her, her father being shorter than her mother and how maybe her Mom actually fucked the big friendly giant.

a friend, and all around super amazing person” by Sasha at Casa Violeta

Thursday October 12, 2017
7:02am
5 minutes
From the Bunz faceboook page

Hello Edmonton!

Wow. That’s a bit of a weird thing to say but I’m just going to go for it. I just moved to this wonderful city and wow, it’s a bit hard to meet people in the dead of winter. Never really understood that phrase until moving here. LOL. I’m a British guy in my mid twenties. I work in the oil industry (GASP). LOL. Looking for a friend, and all around super amazing person to hang out with, maybe go to the gym (central GoodLife is where I’m signed up right now), movies, beers, whatever. If you’re a female, open to it developing into more, but, not really looking for anything serious. Reach out if you’re cool, chill, fun, and looking for a new friend. Or more. LOL.

“I’d be fucking rocked if I were you.” By Sasha at Casa Violeta

Wednesday October 11, 2017
12:10pm
5 minutes
From a text

I know it’s good news. I know that I should be happy. I know that you’ll act like you are, that’s for sure. But under that veneered surface smile congratulations, you’ll be wondering what it means for you. You’ll be wondering if it will mean that we have to move again, or be separated again, or … again again.

“I don’t have to take it,” I say, and you kiss me on the cheek.

“I’m just going to run to the bathroom real quick. Let’s talk about all the options, babe.” You say.

“Okay, I say… again again.

“Trying to comprehend” by Sasha at Casa Violeta

Tuesday October 10, 2017
3:47pm
5 minutes
from emmadawn.com

Snaking through the jungle, the buggy bumps so hard that my head hits the ceiling. “Are you okay?” Jose, the driver asks. I nod, but I’m dizzy. I think back to when you climbed into my hospital bed and held me as I wept and wept. “Are you okay?” You said, with one hand on my belly. I wept and wept.

I can hear the ocean when the buggy lurches to a stop. I take a deep breath. “Seniorita?” I smile at Jose. “You are here!”

“I am.”

“Enjoy your stay.”

“Yes.”

“All in your head” by Sasha at the kitchen table at Bowmore

Monday October 9, 2017
11:56pm
5 minutes
Overheard at the Tim Hortons

“It’s all in your head,” they said. “You’re making it up,” they said. “You’re so sensitive,” they said. “Meditate,” they said. “Take a yoga class,” they said. “Try no screens after dinner,” they said. “Drink this tea,” they said. “Go to a healer with long white hair and small eyes and breath that smells like mushrooms,” they said. (They didn’t, but they may as well have). “Don’t eat sugar,” they said. “Don’t eat nightshades,” they said. “Don’t think negative thoughts,” they said. “Re-position your bed according to the Mayan calendar,” they said.

“Your name is the strongest” by Sasha in the living room at Black River Farm

Sunday, October 8th, 2017
8:15am
5 minutes
Milk and Honey
Rupi Kaur

I will never tell anyone that I’m here, I whisper as I exit the elevator and walk left, then right, then left. Never ever, cross my heart and swear to die. What an effed up saying. I wonder why we used to say that all the time. If Al knew I was here he would tease me into eternity. Dad would mock me until I wept silently in the bathtub, a bottle of Shiraz cradled in the crook of my arm, never touching my lips, just there. In case. Dr. Noreen Sandhu, is written on the door. Is there a waiting room? Is this just, like, her office? Should I wait outside? Oh my God. What am I doing? Deep breath deep breath DEEP BREATH THIS IS WHY YOU’RE HERE, CLAIRE. THIS IS WHY. I give a very small, basically inaudible knock, just to test the waters. NO answer. Okay. Hm. Okay. I try the door handle and at first it feels locked but then I realize it’s just a very, very heavy door. I push with all my might, after all I have been going to Pilates most Tuesday mornings and my core is getting stronger, I can feel it even if no one can see it. I told Yolanda that my goal was to feel stronger. I don’t care about how things appear on the outside, I’d said. She’d scoffed. Eff her. I am achieving my goal. I am a goal achiever. A GOAL DESTROYER. I AM A GOAL ORIENTED WOMAN. A manifester. “Claire?” The smell of sage, lavender, ylang ylang. Doctor Sandhu, with perfectly chestnut skin, a deliciously large nose, excellent knockers and wearing a turquoise tunic and white tights. Oh my God. “Claire?” She says again, and for once in my life I am speechless.

“Babysat while Christian went to bingo.” By Sasha at Black River Farm

Saturday, October 6th, 2017
8:12am
5 minutes
Adrian Mole: The Wilderness Years
Sue Townsend

When Christian went to bingo, Dominique and I babysat Felix. He would pay us ten dollars each, which at the time we thought was a hundred. Mimi would save hers. Right into her bank account it would go. She couldn’t get there fast enough. Christian had to tell her, repeatedly, that she ought to buy herself something. “It’s okay to spend a little,” he’d say, smiling. I would make lists of what I wanted – the newest YM, a watermelon lipgloss, a journal with a sparkly peacock on the front, a set of fine-tip sharpies, an extra large toblerone bar, my own matte scotch tape, Guatemalan slippers, a mini flatiron… The list would be so long that I wouldn’t be able to choose what I wanted first. Sometimes I’d cry and Mimi would console me. By this time, Felix would be drinking out of the toilet or scratching the wallpaper off the walls in the den and we’d have to call the bingo hall and Christian would have to come home early.

“Protect the blood from attack” by Sasha on the deck at Knowlton Lake

Thursday October 5, 2017
7:12am
5 minutes
Chinese Tonic Herbs
Ron Teeguarden

In this quiet stillness of languid morning
Sun on the birches and maples
Dew catching the joke quick
I listen to the silence
She whispers in a language I’m only now just learning
Only will learn fifty years from now
Sixty years from now
A million deaths between now and then

My mother only just spoke
Leaves turning at a snail’s pace
Green to yellow to
How she’s prone to anxiety
Red and brown
Spoke bulemia
When the wind swoops
The echoes cling to the windows
I hush
Spoke silence in a language I’m only now just learning
Thirty six years between us
Somehow less distance
Somehow more

I want to know about the birds that build nests up high
Who are they hiding from
Where do their babies first learn that we are born
Alone and will die alone
Each day an expression of this intrinsicness
Each quiet and still morning
An opportunity to fly deeper
A wingspan promise to try again

“before we found our planet” by Sasha on the couch at Knowlton Lake

Wednesday October 4, 2017
10:01am
5 minutes
The Enemy Stars
Poul Anderson

Before we found our planet we chased shooting stars and solar flares before breakfast. We did not know the saltiness of addiction – heartache – betrayal. Before we knew the taste of first kiss, we knew blue, the true meaning, gold, the weight and scope of it. Some might call it alchemy, but we call it morning.

Turning the page, our children (by which I mean all the children here not the ones I’ve borne, in fact, I cannot tell the difference, all their faces are innocence and power, curiousity and wisdom)… Turning the page, our children laugh at the nostalgia for a time before time. They wrinkle their little brows at Milky Way and ask for a glass of water.

“so you can focus on work at that time” by Sasha in the backyard

Saturday September 30, 2017
3:11pm
5 minutes
From a text

I don’t feel nervous about the hours I’ll work sitting at a desk
Making jokes in the hallway I don’t feel nervous
I’ve never done it like this before and I like that I like that
I’m shaking my bones for a permenance to hold
Cradle like the big blue baby

You dream of raccoons and dolphins
And I’m carving pumpkins
Always pregnant always hungry for meat and bread

Really though we’ll go back and it will be raining
Incessant and calm
Really though we’ll laugh and fuck and wish out loud
We’ll blow out the candle after dinner and you’ll be on the road
And this will be the root
The root will be this

“Host art classes” By Sasha at her kitchen table


Saturday August 26, 2017
11:52pm
5 minutes
From a business card


I really wanna make Mama proud, you know. She spent a whole lotta time not being proud of me when I was younger and getting into all that trouble. We don’t need to talk about that, but like, it wasn’t a good scene and I caused her a whole lot of stress. So I wanna make her proud! Like the kinda proud where she smiles really big and acts like I’m the kid she’s always dreamed of having! I ask Kim if I can use the barn at the back of her property, just on Saturdays to start. She says that it needs a real good clean, but I can do that, I can do that for this.

“street cake!” By Sasha at her kitchen table


Friday August 25, 2017
9:12pm
5 minutes
From a text

I preheat the oven while you select a record. I’m not sure what exactly you choose, we’ve been hitting up garage sales, but it’s sexy and it’s got vocals and some horns, so it’s all good. You asked for cake this morning, and all day at work I dreamed about what wouldn’t require softened butter. I dreamed about caramel and vanilla, or, chocolate, yes! Chocolate. I use coconut oil because it’s so very good for you and I sift the ingredients and you watch me and sometimes grab at me and I push you away but only for now.

“keep this info handy” by Sasha on her couch


Sunday August 20, 2017
10:32pm
5 minutes
The Shaw pamphlet

“The fucking cheque bounced again, Henry!” Maude shouts from the bottom of the stairs. She can smell that Henry took a shower and used her shampoo again. “Asshole,” she mutters under her breath. He goes on and on about how he doesn’t like it when they smell the same and then he can’t resist the smell of coconut and vanilla. “Henry!” Maude doesn’t want to lose it, but he’s ignoring her and she hates that. She hears the door to his study crack open.

“What are you hollering about?” Henry pokes his head around the landing and she sees him in his towel, with his glasses low on his nose, and she remembers the man she married thirty three years ago.

“you called me at 5:30, said you couldn’t sleep” by Sasha on her couch


Monday August 7, 2017
11:37pm
5 minutes
Overheard on the 99

you called me at 5:30, said you couldn’t sleep. i asked if you wanted to come over for a cuddle or something and you said that there was no way in hell you were leaving your apartment for mine. you had better fans. i asked if you wanted me to come over and you said that you didn’t feel comfortable with me walking at that hour. i’ll ride my bike. no, no, it’s okay. it wasn’t the first time. it won’t be the final time, unless i tell you to fuck off with this shit, i have a full-time job and i need my seven hours.

“Life Lessons From 100-Year-Olds” by Sasha at her desk


Sunday July 30, 2017
11:15pm
5 minutes
Youtube

Fiona turns one hundred on a Sunday. She’s outlived most of the friends of her generation, but her three grandchildren come over for waffles and bacon. Fiona asks Sam to make her a stiff drink. He obliges. Fiona doesn’t dole out advice, or even speak about the good old days. She listens to her brood speaking words she has no idea the meaning of, and she adds more whipped cream to her waffle, a small smile on her lips.

“quite desperate to escape all the people” by Sasha on her balcony


Saturday July 29, 2017
1:10am
5 minutes
The Humans
Matt Haig


She wipes her finger across the desk and notices a layer of dust. Where does it come from? Summer makes everything sticky and it isn’t watermelon. It’s something else. The phone rings but she doesn’t answer it. She doesn’t even shower before bed anymore. She has white sheets. She gets under the covers with dirty feet, sweaty skin, makeup on.

“not a permanent” by Sasha on her couch


Wednesday June 28, 2017
11:32pm
5 minutes
From an email

“It’s not permanent,” Izzy says, braiding my hair. I love the feeling, and ask her to do it any chance I get. There’s a chicken roasting in the oven and we’ll eat it whenever it’s done. Doesn’t matter that it’s almost eleven. Izzy’s parents own a restaurant so they are always out at night, and it’s prime hang time. They stock their house with these amazing ingredients. Her Dad even went to Italy a few weeks ago, just to get cheese and tomato sauce and flour. Izzy only came out of her shell when we started hanging out. Before that she barely spoke. She’d read and make bracelets in the bleachers at lunch.

“kindergarten registration” by Sasha at a coffee shop on Dunbar


Thursday June 22, 2017
4:38pm
5 minutes
From a sign

This woman on the bus rides in a motorized wheelchair. She’s beautiful. She looks like Nicole Kidman and Helena Bonham Carter had a lovechild and gave her even better hair and eyes. She has a little dog on her lap. Cute, shaved down so it looks like it has a lion’s mane. We all watch – rapt – as she wheels into her spot (people cleared the way). As the bus starts to drive onwards, she takes a ziplock bag of something indistinguishable out of a bag in the basket that’s on the front of her wheelchair. She eats it, or, rather, she chews it and spits it out into her hand and tries to feed it to her dog. He doesn’t want it.

“Good girls wore miniskirts but not hot pants” By Julia at her desk


Sunday June 18, 2017
9:56pm
5 minutes
They Used To Call Me Snow White…But I Drifted
Regina Barreca


I wish we didn’t have to fight so hard for our bodies. How can one opinion be the ignition behind so much devestation. All these lies we told ourselves because of the lies we heard first from someone else’s head. It must have been a group. There must have been a threat lobbied at enough of them to cause a movement. Why hold some bodies back if nothing is at risk? But what was at risk? What could it have possibly been to mean so much? What is the small bone we must find before breaking all of ours instead?

“Popeye was right!” By Sasha at her desk


Friday June 16, 2017
10:46pm
5 minutes
La Dolce Vegan
Sarah Kramer


When your mother brings home Steve, the third potential stepfather, you are immediately sceptical of his black goatee and reddish, greying hair. You know that that is not how nature works. Steve is the “assistant manager” (oh-kay) at the mechanic on the corner of First and MacDonald. His brother is the owner. His brother, according to Michelle St. Bernard, is almost a millionaire. Something about good investments, or the stock market, or Atlantic City. You and Tina kick each other under the table as your mother giggles at Steve’s jokes. You get a few of them, and want to laugh because they are not half bad, but you don’t. Out of solidarity with Tina. Out of mourning for your father. Steve says something about the spinach and rice pilaf and your mother says something about Popeye. Tina’s eyes light up.

“Remember that time” by Sasha at her desk


Wednesday June 14, 2017
7:27pm
5 minutes
From an Instagram post

Remember the time we got caught in a lightning storm in the woods? It was just Dad and the two of us. Mum never came camping. It was the kind of storm where there isn’t rain, just thunder and lighting. But you know it’s coming. We stood under the tarp, strung up with bungee chords (it was before all the literature came out about how dangerous they are), and watched the storm move across the pines. Before the rain started, we brushed our teeth (peppermint Tom’s) and peed, squatting down and feeling the grasses tickle our bums.

“also fun” by Sasha in the basement at Bowmore Rd.


Tuesday June 6, 2017
1:02am
5 minutes
From a tweet

Lisa is serious, a squiggle in her brow most of the time, eyes focused, down on her page. She is also fun, knowing how to roll down a big grassy hill, knowing how to draw animals in 3D. On the night she was born, her father was hit by lightning. He missed her birth. She never knew the difference, but her mother did. Her mother resented that bearded, stout man until he took to the bottle and never looked back. Lisa sometimes wonders where her father might be, mid shade of an eyebrow or sketch of a lion’s mane. And just as soon as the thought arrives, it’s gone.

“wild horses” by Sasha on her couch


Saturday June 3, 2017
10:49pm
5 minutes
From the Microsoft home-screen

Huddled in the closet where your mother keeps bleach, baking soda, laundry detergent, you whisper in my ear that there’s something you need to show me.

I’m wearing purple shorts and a black T-shirt with Phantom of the Opera on it. You’re wearing jean shorts and a stained white hoodie.

“I ate a freezee in less than thirty seconds,” you’d told me earlier, referencing the orange drips. They look like tears, I’d thought, before running to the washroom to check if I’d peed a few drips – sisters.

It’s dark, except for the slit of light reaching under the door. You reach for the button of your shorts.

“happy, noisy, Elephant” by Sasha on the 41 bus


Wednesday May 31, 2017
4:43pm
5 minutes
Snip Snap Pop-Up Fun
tiger tales


“One day, when you’re a bit more grown up, I’m going to take you to the Land of the Elephants. We’ll ride on their backs, and teach them to sing our songs.”

“Will Michael come too?”

“Nope. Just you and I.”

“Who will feed Scooby?”

“Michael and Mommy.”

“Will we bring backpacks or suitcases?”

“Which would you prefer?”

“Backpacks. More mobile.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Will we fly in two or three airplanes?”

“I think it takes two… but we’ll sort out the details closer to the time.”

“Do the elephants talk?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“Do we speak their language?”

“We’ve got plenty of time to learn.”

“The only thing we lack” by Sasha on her couch


Sunday May 28, 2017
2:19pm
5 minutes
A program from the Cultch

Today I rise from bed groggy
heart full of last night’s baring
dreams of children and quartz
eyes wide
rushing water
my sister’s hair
a walk in the woods
barefoot
I sit on the balcony
cradling tea and my thirty-first
cradling all that I have built
on this borrowed plot
I call my father
and he sings in a voice
that lands somewhere
before time
A hummingbird
lands on the tree with
the yellow blooms
Joy
Joy
Joy

“he can sound like the rain” by Sasha on her couch


Friday May 26, 2017
12:48am
5 minutes
Mr. Brown Can Moo! Can You?
Dr. Seuss


“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Gemma-ma-ma, happy birthday to you!”

Mom’s made strawberry shortcake. I don’t have to request it, she knows it’s what I want. Calvin is a vegan so she even whipped up some tofu thing for him to have. What a woman. Her face has changed over the last nine months. She’s looking more and more like Gran. It’s the first birthday in our family since Dad died, and I know that Cal just sang the “ma-ma” because that’s what Dad would’ve done. While we eat our cake, the rain starts. It gets quiet.

“Maybe that’s him,” Mom says.

“ungratefulness” by Sasha on her balcony


Wednesday May 24, 2017
12:09am
5 minutes
English
Amber O’Reilly


On Sunday I’ll be thirty one
When I look at my hands
they are the hands I’ve
always had
Piano playing
squash cutting
keyboard typing
back tickling
finger knitting
busy small child hands

Swimming in the lake
as a girl
toes touching seaweed
and lake trout
diving down so deep
the temperature changed
popping back up
sunlight and gasp
laughing and falling
into dead man’s float

On Sunday I’ll be full
I’ll be lonely
I’ll be grateful
this is everything
this is nothing
this is

“and they’ll break your heart” by Sasha on her balcony


Sunday May 21, 2017
10:01pm
5 minutes
trueactivist.com

This thing we pretend we know
even those hand holding
white haired beauties
shuffling along
place after place
for sixty odd years
even they don’t know.

I pretend to know
what is going through
your head when your
brow furrow
your jaw clenches
your nostrils flare.

I occasionally appreciate
the mystery of you
when I’m rested
caffeinated
exercised
but mostly
I long to know
without having to ask
“what’s wrong?”

“stop on the platform” by Julia at her desk


Thursday May 18, 2017
7:45pm
5 minutes
Graduation FAQ

if there is a time for watching sunsets, it is now
the sky puts on a show and we are all allowed to love it
you are my walking Cuckoo clock, I always know what
time it isn’t, I’m surprised that it still surprises you

The ad in the subway has an hour glass and the words
“tick tock”
The rest is too small to see
I don’t know what it’s for, but it looks dangerous
who ever though to put hours in something so fragile,
and what if it breaks open and we don’t ever
get them back?

if the sky wants to dance, who am I to turn my back
there is time for beauty in this place too
when it is the nourishment keeping us in motion

“stop on the platform” by Sasha at her desk


Thursday May 18, 2017
9:05am
5 minutes
Graduation FAQ

I’ll carve a statue of you
in soapstone and lapis and rose quartz
for your heart
You’ll stand before me
more regal than the Lovers
more regal than the bow of the ship
that sails the seven seas
I’ll spend years on your nose
your hips
your clavicle
I’ll even build you an amethyst brain
No one will know that it’s in there
under the other layers
When you woke up this morning
you told me about a dream you’d had
You were being chased by buffalo

“This I wore when I met Margaret Thatcher.” By Julia at her desk


Wednesday May 17, 2017
5:17pm
5 minutes
Women in Clothes
Sheila Heti, Heidi Julavits, Leanne Shapton and 639 Others


We didn’t break bread until we had broken each other
into pieces
the stir before sunset set our dining room to
incubation, warming the alibis of forgotten promises
She was wearing sheer nylons with a tinge of lavender
She was wearing someone else’s face, not mine, not hers
Standing on opposite corners of our equally divided turf
we had to wonder, is this artifical power or are you really
stronger there by the kitchen and I better next to the balcony?
The show is going on outside our tiny terrarium of
heart ache and mishandled history
Our secrets, both undone and left spilling
onto the floor that seperates us
from forgiveness and missing
our reservation

“This I wore when I met Margaret Thatcher.” By Sasha at her desk


Wednesday May 17, 2017
11:20am
5 minutes
Women in Clothes
Sheila Heti, Heidi Julavits, Leanne Shapton and 639 Others


Margaret introduces herself with only her first name. It’s a habit. And a good one. The women, a murder of crows, gather around the snack table and nibble on marble cheese, melba toast, grapes, wedges of cantaloupe.

“So Margaret,” Daisy says, wiping her little hands on a little floral napkin, “What brings you to Gastoville?” She says the name of the town, the graveyard they all stand on, like it’s someplace on the Mayan Riviera. It most certainly is not.

“My husband got a job at the university,” Margaret says, gulping down Pinot Grigio.

“Oh?” Says Daisy. Margaret wonders what Daisy would do if she knew that she had lipstick on her teeth. “And what’s his name?”

“Brad Thatcher. He’s in the History Department,” Margaret scans the crows.

“I waited twenty minutes, then thirty.” By Sasha at JJ Bean


Monday May 15, 2017
3:25pm at JJ Bean on Cambie
5 minutes
Ghostly Woman on The Rumpus
Zoe Bossiere


I do three shots of tequila before I walk the
seven blocks to the bar where I order a glass of
white wine and wait

and wait


and wait.

Eventually he arrives smelling of rum and sex
and man and rain and sweat

and man.

You’re late
I say
I got caught up
He says
I was about to leave
I say
He looks at me like no woman has ever
called his bluff no woman has ever met
him with a scowl
I’m here now
He says
You’re late
I say.

“super slinky.” By Sasha at her kitchen table


Sunday May 14, 2017
9:57pm
5 minutes
From the pack of guitar strings

Sadie flips pancakes at the old stove that you’ve got to kick on it’s right side to get going. She’s made them just out of bananas, almond butter and eggs, blended in the Magic Bullet. She’s a witch (and I mean that as the highest compliment) in the kitchen and the rest of us are her disciples, watching as she sprinkles cinnamon, hemp hearts, gogi berries. Marlene gave birth only two weeks ago and whenever she’s away from Arlo for longer than thirty minutes, her nipples start leaking. She’s got big, wet circles on her purple tank top. “No one tells you that this happens,” she says, looking down. Sadie kisses her on the cheek, and hands her a pancake, fresh from the skillet.

“Fine then, you get out.” By Sasha at her desk


Saturday May 13, 2017
9:34am
5 minutes
Oil and Water
Robert Chafe


Budgie makes the sign of the cross whenever I mention Anton.

“We’ve been dating for almost three months,” I say. “You’re really going to have to come around.”

Budgie never liked when I made a new friend, let alone went on dates with someone. Scared Henry McAlister away, in fact. He’d be sitting in the window, like a statue when we left and we got home. Did he move when we were out eating burgers and seeing a show at the Dominion? No one knows.

“Humph,” Budgie says, opening a can of 7Up.

“You should really stop drinking that stuff,” I say, wiping a layer of dust off of the coffee table. “It has about twelve teaspoons of sugar in it, Budg, and it’s not even ten o’clock!”

“it won’t matter what house I move into” by Sasha on her couch


Friday May 12, 2017
9:51pm
5 minutes
Love Warrior
Glennon Doyle Melton


Gramma takes us in after the house burns down. We move into her attic, me and Kate and Selma. Ma and Freddie McFly go to the Spencers’. Selma says that they might be swingers, but Kate and I say, “please don’t make us picture that.” Gramma never recovered after Gramps died. She doesn’t smile, or laugh, or do the crossword puzzles. She makes us toast with raspberry jam in a little bowl. No butter in sight. “We can just use jam from the jar, Gram,” says Kate. Gramma scowls. Sometimes, at night, when all the lights are out and we are three in a row in the king bed, we hear her whistling the Canadian anthem.

“they fought amongst themselves” by Sasha at her desk


Wednesday May 10, 2017
9:49pm
5 minutes
True Confessions Of Adrian Albert Mole
Sue Townsend


When I saw you for the first time I wasn’t sure about you. I couldn’t believe that you came from my body, my place where I’d lived for thirty nine years. “You’ll never get pregnant,” they’d told me – furrowed brows and lips like a line drawn with a Sharpie – “it’s just not possible”. I swore at the midwife. She was a real cunt, telling me to breathe, trying to feed me frozen mango juice in the shape of little hearts.

“When do we become adults?” By Sasha at JJ Bean


Monday May 8, 2017
5:22pm
5 minutes
http://www.intrepidtheatre.com

“Wise beyond her years”
she was also
the master of
the baby voice.
She shrugged her
shoulders and
giggled down
at painted toes.
Adult body came
too fast comes
too round.
“This isn’t what
I wanted,” she
whispers to
her pillow.
“Wise beyond her years”
a spell cast after
the wall fell.
“Wise beyond her years”
a blessing spoken
over dinner beeswax
candles lighting
changing faces.
“Wise beyond her years”
outgrowing jeans and
shoes seeing all the
noticing
growing
breaking

“borrows and ruins your clothes” by Sasha on her couch


Sunday May 7, 2017
9:42pm
5 minutes
From a tweet by Mara Wilson

The sweet sluttery of fingering through your sister’s closet, touching the dewy tank tops in maroon, purple and grey, the high-waisted jeans, the eyelet dress that you know for a fact she got for thirty-two dollars at the thrift store in Kingston. It’s a drug you can’t quit – touching her stuff – and you wonder about the morality of it, the fairness of it, the injustice of it. You know that every time you do it, you cross a boundary. You know that. But you keep doing it.

“let it come through.” By Sasha on her balcony


Saturday April 29, 2017
1:41pm
5 minutes
From a quote by Jackson Pollock

LET IT COME DOWN
that acid rain
LET IT COME THROUGH
those brilliant unicorn
bubble dreams
LET IT COME OUT
the savage and
the succulent
LET IT SHAKE
all those beautiful
jiggly bits
LET IT GO
LET IT ALL GO
LET IT SCREAM
HErE I aM
I aM aWaKe!
LET IT KNOW
the very pearl
of wisdom
that lies in the
very centre of the earth
is the sound of
your laughter
head thrown back
eyes closed
the very pearl of wisdom

“There were times when nothing played back.” By Sasha on her porch


Wednesday April 25, 2017
4:14pm
5 minutes
What It Is
Lynda Barry


When I was younger I laughed
at the synchronicity of seasons
how the robin shows her cheeky
face in the hours
before the magnolias the camellias
the cherry blossoms

“Make space for your stories”
my almost husband smiles into my ear
He is referencing the leaning tower
of books on my bedside table
in my knapsack
on the coffee table
the earbuds in my ears while
I steam kale
walk to the market
chase away nightmares

“bald or willing to shave head” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Monday April 24, 2017
12:18am
5 minutes
From a casting call

His palms are sweaty. He’s pacing the green room. Never liked that term. Never really got what it means. He sips from the disposable water bottle and then play with the cap, screwing and unscrewing. Sip. Unscrew. Screw. Sip. Pace. He hears the applause from the presenter before him and he feels like he needs to pee again. Is there time? There’ll be an introduction, he’s pretty sure someone said that. His tie. Tighten his tie. Put on his jacket. His jacket. Where is his – … Ah, there it is. Unscrew. Sip. Screw. Unscrew. Screw.

“Did you know?” by Sasha at the Diamond Centre


Sunday April 23, 2017
11:35am
5 minutes
From a bus ad

Did you know that there are about one hundred and seventy billion galaxies in our universe? Yup. It’s true. Did you know that the milky way has four hundred billion stars? I KNOW. It’s pretty impossible to even imagine that quantity – … I know that we’re supposed to be doing our long division, but I’m, I’m bored of that and I just started reading a book about – … Okay. Okay. Fine. FINE.

“”when you sign up” by Sasha on her couch


Saturday April 22, 2017
7:00pm
5 minutes
From the Aeroplan flyer

It’s fine, like, if… if you want to come over before you go? I won’t be mad… like last time? I wasn’t seeing people, anyone, I wasn’t seeing anyone last month. It wasn’t personal. I didn’t go out. Thank fuck for those grocery delivery services. Did you know that Save On does it now? You can shop from your bed in your pyjamas. Come over… okay? Even if it’s for ten minutes. I have something I want to give you. I don’t know when I’m gonna see you next and I really just want to – … I’m not going to tell you what it is, but you’re going to want it. Trust me. Ah… It’s Mom’s bracelet, okay! I have it! I didn’t lose it in New Mexico, I have it, I didn’t want you to… I’m sorry. Fuck. I’m sorry.

“silent as the folds of the yellow” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Tuesday April 18, 2017
5:40pm
5 minutes
Up
Magaret Atwood


He held me last night while I wept
nimbus and grey “Transitions are hard for you
honey” He said and I denied it and I swept it
under the wool couch pillow that used to belong
to a stranger’s grandmother A stranger mother
haunting the beige and the brown

I looked myself in the eye like I would a
daughter this morning Right there into the
middle into the black
“You can do this, my love,” I said and I
felt the hot water rise again boil again
It had been quite some time since I spoke
to myself with such tenderness