“The randomness comes from atmospheric noise” by Julia on the 2 bus

Sunday December 10, 2017

6:46pm

5 minutes

random.org

Yesterday I came home and I heard a buzzing. I stopped. I looked around. You had eyes on me like you were worried. Like I was smelling burnt toast. Or listening to satan sing. I swear I heard it. You said you didn’t and that messed me up. You tried to get me to come to the couch and sit near you but I was rhythmically attached elsewhere. When you tried to tell me about your day I didn’t respond. I heard the buzzing and the room shifting on its axis. I was listening the where it was originating from. The television had never buzzed like this before. The floorboards made me suspicious. We’ve been finding a lot of dead spots lately and for a minute it made sense. But in between tuning in and trying not to make you think I had lost my mind, it lost a little bit of strength. I felt sad then. As if I had lost my chance. Or my baby.

“I wanted to go on sitting there” by Julia on the 84

Friday October 20, 2017
6:10pm
5 minutes
Rebecca
Daphne Du Maurer

Kenneth and I haven’t spoken since last winter and he knows why. I don’t like it when people call me sensitive when I’m just feeling my feelings. I don’t go around telling everyone who seems to be under reacting that they’re insensitive. They’re entitled to their own way of expression. Obviously. I’m not trying to take that away. But Kenneth knows how I feel about the word and how I don’t like being labelled emotional when I am simply being alive. Yes, of course it goes back to high school. The girls thought I was a loose cannon, fine, that’s what I became. I put on a real show for them too. Throwing pencil cases and screaming, crying a lot. They thought I was a nut job. And to hear someone say that I’m sensitive after knowing that the word only sticks a knife into my heart, really makes me whirl. I wish I could have stayed still, sat there without bubbling up, but I’m not that kind of person. And yet I am a kind person. And he was wrong to try to tell me how to respond. He was wrong to even put me in the position. Anyway he’s probably enjoying Gran’s oatmeal crisp right now. Sitting happy and quiet without me.

“connected by canals” by Julia on her couch

Thursday October 19, 2017

8:24pm

5 minutes

from the Scuba Diving Pamphlet

In Amsterdam you and Ben took me on G’s brunch boat. We had mimosas. I love that my mom used to babysit you and when we were young we pretended to be power rangers. You have always been blonde and my hair has always had curls. During that rainy October visit I slept on your couch and got lost in Vondel Park after dark. Ben rolled me some weed and we ate the best pancake of my life. The next time I’m in Amsterdam it’ll be for your wedding. I can’t wait to celebrate you and your love. I will tell everyone that I have known you longer than I have known myself. That you and I have lived in the same heart for twenty three years. That you have always been blonde and I’ve always had curls.

She is giant and bossy and funny as hell.” By Julia on her couch

Saturday October 14, 2017

11:22pm

5 minutes

a text

Kitty tells me to say that that I’m the baby and she’s the mum. I say, I’m the baby and you’re the mum. Then she tells me to say I’m addicted to raisins! I say, do I know what addicted means already? And she tells me to just say it already. I say I’m the baby and you’re the and mum and I’m addicted to raisins. She tells me, okay now say you’re trapped in a lemon peel. And I say oh no I’m the baby and you’re the mum and I’m addicted to raisins and I’m trapped in a lemon peel. Then kitty bursts out laughing. She is laughing so hard she gives herself hiccups. She tries to give direction between giant gulps of air. I tell her to take a second and catch her breath and she tells me to hurry up and be funny. I tell her she’s being a bit bossy and she shrieks at the top of the lungs, THAT’S BECAUSE I’M THE MUM.

“I’d be fucking rocked if I were you.” By Julia on the 4

Wednesday October 11, 2017

8:54pm

5 minutes

From a text

He forces my wrist until it is twisted up and screaming quietly. He wants me to get into the bathtub. I don’t know why. I let him hold my arm and push until I am kneeling beside the tub and looking in. He keeps pointing. I keep imitating him. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do but he is strong for six and this is the first time we’re in a bathroom together. He looks at me like he’s trying to tell me about his pain. His face is contorted and his eyes are loud. I look back at him with as much heart as I can muster. Tell him with my smile he’s not alone. That I’m here. That I’m sorry he’s trapped inside his head with so many feelings and not enough words. He grabs me by the wrist when I try to open the door. He brings me back to the tub. I am breathing loud enough so he might hear it in his skin. I want to save him but I don’t know what from. He is crying without tears. I tell him, it’s okay. It’s okay.

“All in your head” by Julia in her bed

Monday October 9, 2017
11:55pm
5 minutes
overheard at the Tim Hortons

Imogen and Harriet are grinding their hips and Imogen likes Harriet and Harriet knows that. The music makes Imogen want more than what she has. Harriet doesn’t want to waste the song. Imogen thinks arching backs and swaying thighs is proof. Harriet wants to be free and enjoy each second because she doesn’t know when she’ll get another one.

The two of them remember this night differently.

“how on earth an idiot like that could be trusted” by Julia at the bus stop

Friday October 6, 2017

10:19pm

5 minutes

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings Maya Angelou

Wally took off work early again and decided to pick up Dallas and Dax from school even though they still had two periods left. Of course the school doesn’t think to notify me since one of their “guardians” is given my permission. I don’t like him going around there trying to be the hero for two teenage boys who are desperate for their father’s time. He buys them double cheeseburgers and milkshakes while I have whole chicken thawing on the counter. I told him he can keep his privileges if he keeps his drinking under control. I really didn’t want to drag my kids through court to prove to them that their daddy is a fuck up. So far he’s been okay, but I know he’s still polishing off a 24 every two days. That may seem like a small amount compared to some, but these are my kids.

“Water music” by Julia on the 84

Monday October 2, 2017

10:03pm

5 minutes

Major Orchestral Works

Felix Mendelssohn

On the night I saw my reflection I was wearing a wolf mask

I looked into the lines of my face

(of the faces that have howled before mine)

And wept for the good me that was left behind

Sorrow mixing with salt

Forgiveness twisted into wave

I opened my throat to give

something that swung

at the pit of me

I did not ask why happiness had been so cruel

I did not beg to be understood

“stress hormones can also cross the placenta” by Julia at her desk


Thursday June 1, 2017
9:52pm
5 minutes
alive.com

Your baby is not safe! Sorry, but it’s not. It’s figthing to stay alive every second and you know what? It’s dealing with enough placentra stress as it is, it doesn’t need any more! It comes down to gut health. It always does. You have to stop eating your feelings! Stop swallowing excuses and old wounds. That stuff is not meant for human consumption. You shouldn’t eat them before bed either. Your body is busy protecting something and you just go ahead to the cookie jar where you hide your pain? Soon there will be nothing left to protect!

“happy, noisy, Elephant” by Julia at her desk


Wednsday May 31, 2017
10:28pm
5 minutes
Snip Snap Pop-Up Fun
tiger tales


You have tugged my hairs out again and I am
wishing you were dead
In the same hour I notice sudden breast tenderness
and that I do love you
Earlier you popped your face into my work zone
and I nearly called the cops
What a lovely chance to talk about consent
and we both laugh at how
your kisses are never quiet
I could not ask for something more than that
I think, if it’s being categorized,
it would be filed under Lucky
or Happy Noisy Elephant

“it will happen on Wednesday” by Julia on the 99


Tuesday May 30, 2017
9:40pm
5 minutes
overheard on the 99

I wrote a note to myself
daily aspirations, thank you universe,
thy will be done,
amen, amen

on a post it, to kiss my cork board
into fruition, I drew a heart around it
and then waited for the beat to drop
thank you, universe, amen

it will happen on Wednesday (in case you ask me to be specific)
success marked as faith
as finally
as forgiveness

“Secret Society” by Julia on the toilet


Friday April 7, 2017
10:51pm
5 minutes
from the Quo eye palette

1) there are no new joiners
2) every new joiner needs to learn the creed
3) no new joiners after April 1st
4) new joiners allowed if owner of a vehicle
5) new joiners allowed if owner of a beard
6) tuna tuesdays in effect- NO NEGOTIATION
7) we rise 5 minutes before dawn
8) no alarm clocks- NO EXCEPTIONS
9) mismatched socks must make acceptable case publicly PRIOR to breakfast
10) heartbreak corner off limits until further notice

“regular procedures” by Julia at her desk


Wednesday April 5, 2017
12:53pm
5 minutes
From the thesis formatting guidelines

I am sitting across from you
you are either editing your novel
(YOUR FUCKING NOVEL!!)
or worrying about being ripped off
Even when you’re busy you look up when it’s time
mouth 1234 to me and smile
wait for me to stop what I’m doing
so I don’t miss it
so I don’t forget to believe in magic

I am sitting across from you
you are either playing a new riff on your guitar
or researching guitars that have headphone jacks
this is a very nice gift for me
even though it comes at a cost for you

I am sitting across from you
I am either telling the world about you
or trying to sell my clothes online
our feet are touching
it’s nice

you told your contract job that your girlfriend
isn’t too happy about you working from home
because she has now gained an office mate
but no other office mate
has let me rest my feet on his before

“he digs into that” by Julia at her desk


Thursday March 30, 2017
9:19pm
5 minutes
overheard at kafkas

We keep talking about getting a dog. We sometimes talk about if we ever moved it might make more sense, so we keep talking about moving. I don’t want this to happen. He does. Sometimes we talk about settling for the tiniest dog in the universe so if we can’t convince our current landlord to let us keep one, we can pretend like there is no dog, what dog? Oh that little fluffy..entity…nothing…just…tissue…?
We haven’t quite figured it out. I’m glad. He is not. But we can’t justify getting a dog when there are so many other items already on the list. First things first. Like getting a new matress, a vaccum cleaner, laundry detergent, a vaporizer, toilet paper, and bananas.

“While I watched a yellow caterpillar” by Julia at her desk


Wednesday March 29, 2017
9:19pm
5 minutes
Standing
Shel Silverstein


Sometimes I forget how easy it is to listen to my body. I’ve been living under the impression that there’s some kind of decoding I need to do, some deep analytics about what signals I am feeling and what they mean.
Today I held the hand of a three year old while we ran him to the bathroom. I didn’t think he looked well but he was the one who told me he needed the toilet. I continued to hold his little hand as I watched this yellow caterpillar respond to what his body was telling him without questioning if it were true or right. As soon as it was over, he wiped his face and smiled. He felt better. He wasn’t going to keep thinking about his sick. His stomach had stopped speaking to him. It no longer needed to be heard.

“Destiny Number” By Julia at The Vancouver Public Library


Thursday January 19, 2017 at the VPL
4:33pm
5 minutes
numerologist.com

I told myself I’d be married at 24 cause of my mother. She was married at 24 and that felt like the best map I could follow since she has never once said she regretted it. I also said I wouldn’t have sex till I was 24 either case of Jesus. Or the patriarchy. Save my sex for someone who loves God more than he’ll ever love me and believes in owning humans as property? Yeah, what a great fucking idea. I was young then. And committed to Christ (by choice, weirdly, I know). And in love with the idea that I didn’t have to make my own decisions cause life was already going to have too many of those in the first place. I told myself that I would have a child by 28 cause of my mother. She waited 4 years to have one after she got married and that seemed smart, and good, and completely doable. I have missed both of these “destiny numbers”(by choice, I know, I know). Somewhere along the way I decided I could trust myself to lead me through it. Sometimes it’s the worst feeling in the entire world. But it’s better than being married with a bazillion kids coming out of my ears. Age, I’ve learned, is just a number that you get to hold for a year. And then–we let it go, just like everything else.

“More money, like I said.” by Julia on her couch


Friday November 18, 2016
11:34pm
5 minutes
A Boy Of Good Breeding
Miriam Toews


Ida and Meryl met on a crowded subway car. Ida had lipstick on her teeth and turns out Meryl was the first person to have mentioned this to her. She fell in love with her instantly. Ida valued honesty in a person. She couldn’t understand why we’d waste so much of our time hiding behind lies. She thought it was too much work to live like that. Ida told Meryl that she was striking and that she liked her silver running shoes. Meryl covered her mouth when she laughed as if she was trying to keep a tiny gerbil inside. She fell in love with her instantly.

“don’t get it in your eyeball!” by Julia in the air bnb in Winnipeg


Tuesday October 25, 2016
9:41am
5 minutes
from a text

I shared an attic with my brother one summer during a heatwave in Italy. We didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into. All we had was a spray bottle filled with heating water between our beds and we didn’t know how badly we would need something in between us. When your brain is melted there is just a puddle where your patience should be. We were puddles of annoyance and sweat and sleepless.
One night we were both aliens to each other, trying to rest, delirious from the air trapped somewhere in a tiny cloud inches from our skin and far enough away from all roads carrying oxygen. He sprayed me with water which was our ritual. I sprayed him back. We did this for 5 minutes or 5 hours and laughed the whole time. Nobody knows why. Something about enough being enough. Something about my eyeball. Something about the first time we didn’t hate each other.

“She lives by the sea” by Sasha at the table on Monkland


Monday September 26, 2016
7:49pm
5 minutes
wordvancouver.ca

The old woman lives by the sea in a house on a cliff, painted yellow and purple. When it storms, the walls of the house shake and the old woman bundles herself in sweaters. The black and white photographs fall off the walls and she sweeps up the broken glass and places them back on their hooks. The old woman makes herself a pot of Lady Grey tea and adds a sugar cube and a splash of cream. She sits in her corduroy chair with her dog, Mimi, in her lap. She tells Mimi stories about when she was a girl, and when she travelled to Paris, and when she fell in love, and when she found a sword under a willow tree.

“Canada’s biggest ever insider” by Sasha at MELK


Saturday September 24, 2016 at MELK Bar & Cafe
1:13pm
5 minutes
Report on Business in the Globe and Mail

Canada’s hands are stained
yellow and red and purple and orange
We think blue
We think green
But those are little firefly lies
Wag wag wag
Those are big mountain lies
We think resource
Cougars and humpbacks
We think lakes and rivers
Pacific and Atlantic
We think
True North strong and free

“I’m in television right now” by Sasha in the apartment on Av. Monkland


Friday September 23, 2016
10:13pm
5 minutes
Overheard on the 99

Bernie has worked the night shift since before his hair went white. He doesn’t think in years, he thinks in ages. Muscles, wrinkles, armpit hair… That’s a better way to measure time, Bernie thinks. He sleeps until four or five and then goes for a run by the river. Rain or shine, you’ll find him there. No need for a cellphone, Bernie keeps a routine that everyone can follow. You’d know where to find him. Sometimes, when Vivian still lived in town, she’s come down to the Mill and tell him something because she’d be gone to set by the time he returned.

“two beautiful faces” by Sasha at the Airbnb in Montreal


Wednesday September 21, 2016
10:12am
5 minutes
Overheard on Av. Girouard

the NICU beeps and wails and whispers
the nurses scrubs have cats and flowers on them
the babies are so small
so new
how were they ready to be born?
the babies are so strong
so new
they were ready to be born
at least that’s what i
tell myself
washing a pear for my sister
filling her water bottle
rubbing her neck
at least that’s what i
tell myself
walking by the darkened rooms
code indigo taped on the door
mothers and fathers and families
like angel zombies
tired eyes and microwave dinners
sanitize the hands

“primarily my fault” by Sasha on the bed in Montreal


Tuesday September 20, 2016
12:43am
5 minutes
from a text

The flight was long and bumpy. Veronica had a headache that stretched all the way down her spine. She had the middle seat. She had to pee but didn’t want to disturb the sleeping woman beside her so she held it until she couldn’t any longer and then got to the bathroom and there was a line. She’d never flown this airline. The plane felt like it was put together with pipe cleaners and a glue stick. Veronica pees and then flushes and goes to wash her hands. The sink is clogged. She knows that her hand sanitizer is on her dressing table back at her apartment. She wrinkles her nose. She returns to her seat where the woman has miraculously fallen into a deep sleep, head on her fold out tray.

“You could fight in the conventional ways” by Sasha at her desk


Monday September 19, 2016
9:41pm
5 minutes
The Deep
Nick Cutter


You could do this in the conventional way but you don’t.
You invite a stranger over way after the sun’s gone down.
You let him in through the shared door and hold your fingers to your lips
so that your downstairs neighbours aren’t alarmed.
Do they keep tabs on you?
Do they hear you?
You lead the stranger upstairs and the stranger kisses you
harder than you want to be kissed.
You go to the bathroom and splash water on your face and
you look tired.
You look really tired.

“I forgot how easy this is” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Sunday September 18, 2016
9:52pm
5 minutes
overheard at the waterfront theatre

I forgot how easy it was to move from one place to another
drifting like clouds across the dawn
like tumbleweeds over the desert
I forgot how easy it is to sail over treetops
over shrubs
over dogs howling for their dinner.
I never considered myself a gypsy
too intent to carve home.
I never liked living out of a suitcase
til now.
Something so freeing about not having any
things
about having all I need
(a good book, a pen, a notebook a toothbrush, some underwear, a t-shirt, boots, jeans, a clean towel)
with me at all times
ready to soar
ready to land

“He got a gun to his head” by Julia on her couch


Saturday September 17, 2016 at the Shadbolt Centre
11:43am
5 minutes
Overheard at the Shadbolt Centre for the Arts

If there’s a reason why we’re meeting here, none of us know it yet. The sky is dark and ominous. There are casual signs promoting danger or intrigue popping up in shadows and creaky floorboards but we haven’t seemed to take heed because we are convinced that this is a dream and nothing bad can ever actually happen to us because bad things only happen to other people or to humans in movies. It’s dark and cold. We don’t speak much in case talking gives us away somehow. Ali and Strat have both cried into their paper bags. I have been inhaling and exhaling in mine, assuming that’s why we were given these to hold in the first place. Cece said she would be here by ten but since none of us can reach her we have already accepted that she is probably dead by now or swallowed up by the night.

“He got a gun to his head” by Sasha at the Shadbolt Centre


Saturday September 17, 2016 at the Shadbolt Centre
10:30am
5 minutes
Overheard at the Shadbolt Centre for the Arts

A gun to his head he prays in a way he didn’t know he could
all the names for God he’s ever heard
he’s ever learned
all the names for God he’s seen carved in caves and bathroom stalls
The person wears a mask
wears gloves
He’s never smelled a person with this smell
Like stale bread and beetles and gas
He is quiet and he laughs when the person
burps loud into his ear
A gun to his head he knows that he should’ve told
Kari that he loves her.

“the meltdown” by Sasha at her desk


Friday September 16, 2016
6:42pm
5 minutes
The Globe And Mail
September 16, 2016



We don’t know that it’s started. We sleep in our plush beds, with our feather pillows and our wool socks. We snore and turn from back to belly to back. We don’t know that around us the mountains are melting, the rocks are turning to water. The city will float soon, our bed, above our house, above the tree where we buried three cats and two dogs. We don’t know that people are panicked, rushing and packing and crying and shouting. The phone lines collapse and the TVs are static.

“contemporary re-imagining” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Thursday September 15, 2016
11:30pm
5 minutes
From an email from PTC

“It’s okay,” says Papa, chopping onions. He doesn’t cry, stoically bringing his knife down in perfectly straight lines.

“I’m sorry,” I say, sniffling.

“It’s just a truck, sweetie,” Papa pours the onions in the pan and glugs on oil and throws in a knob of butter, too.

“It was so scary,” I stand up and walk close. He reaches out and puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I flipped my Papa’s truck into a ditch the first snowstorm of ’69?”

“No…”

He stirs the onions, some starting to become translucent.

“I had to let her know” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Tuesday September 13, 2016
11:32pm
5 minutes
from a Facebook post

Marnie can’t stop biting her nails. She’s tried nail polish, hypnotherapy, herbal remedies, even putting rat poison on her fingertips (that resulted in an overnight stay at the hospital. She can’t stop biting her nails. She wakes up in the middle of the night, her hands in her mouth, and she screams. She’s with a client and the urge to bring fore-finger to mouth overwhelms her and she excuses herself to go to the bathroom and she nibbles and then cries. Marnie goes to therapy. The red headed therapist asks if she can remember when she first started. “I have no idea,” says Marnie.

“How I came into being” by Sasha on her couch


Monday September 12, 2016
12:46am
5 minutes
poetryfoundation.org

I came into being
thanks to charcoal and stardust
thanks to dinosaur bones and grandmother
fingernails I came into being because of you
I came into being with the seeds of my daughters
buried the womb of my mother’s mother
I came into being with the big bang
with the Holocaust
with a dance alone under a full harvest moon
I came into being once
twice
three
a thousand times
When I met you
and you
and you and you and you
when I met myself in the eye of the storm
rocking back and forth
whispering
Yes

“you can experience racism” By Julia on her couch


Wednesday September 14, 2016
11:06pm
5 minutes
from a tweet

Did you know that if you can think it, it already exists somewhere on the internet? Because it’s a dark and twisted jungle and some people don’t know how to find their way home after getting lost in it. Anything you can think of at all. Sure, it would take a little digging. You’d have to be good at searching. But for every good thought you’ve ever had, someone has beat you to one like it somewhere online. And for every bad thought you’ve ever had, someone has beat you to 10. At least. The ratios do not lie. We’re more alike in this life than we’d ever like to admit. My bad thoughts, fleeing, your bad thoughts breeding and burying their eggs all over the web. It’s the only place where there always exists someone more hurt than you.

“I had to let her know” By Julia in her bed


Tuesday September 13, 2016
11:18pm
5 minutes
from a Facebook post

Words unspoken turned into her next studio album
I wished she would have thanked me in the liner notes
Some of her best songs were un-fought wars about me
And some of her most beautiful lyrics
Were silent wishes tucked away and forgotten
I would have liked to explain myself
I would have liked to be understood before the divide instead of because of it
Too many resolutions gleaned from the backs of our sleeping heads facing opposite walls
And all the haunting melodies I will hum to myself forever
now that they are stuck inside my dreams

“How I came into being” By Julia on her couch


Monday September 12, 2016
9:46pm
5 minutes
poetryfoundation.org

How I was birthed twice in this life by my mother and twice by me. How I have started over. How I have changed destinies and opinions. How I have grown bigger in this year alone than I have in all my years prior combined. How I realized I could draw. How I realized I could sing. The moments of myself split me open like a decision, like a soybean.
I met myself one afternoon in July. I was outside my house and inside my body. I sipped on scotch. I wrote a letter to the me I was becoming. I wrote music for my tired self’s funeral.

“How’re you?” By Julia on her couch


Sunday September 11, 2016
11:12pm
5 minutes
From a text message

I have micro cuts on the inside of my lips from the spicy Chinese food I ate earlier. I couldn’t help myself. I was compelled. They sting a little. Mostly when I open my mouth or run my tongue along the raw bits. I meant to bring a nourishing lip balm but some days you can’t be held responsible for the minor setbacks: the micro cuts. I think to some degree we are always accepting a base amount of pain. We decide what is tolerable. What is bad but just good enough that it’s worth putting up with it. I wonder how many of my friends are smiling through the blood. Which ones, I wonder, are licking their wounds like I do.

“How’re you?” By Sasha on her porch


Sunday September 11, 2016
7:20am
5 minutes
From a text message

How’re you?

Fine. Tired.

Yeah… But, really – … How are you?

So so tired.

What are you doing for the soft parts of yourself that get confused and think they need to be hard in order to get everything done?

Reading self help books?

Ha ha.

Zoning out on my phone too much.

Yeah. I do that, too. What would happen if you took a bath instead?

I’d probably fall asleep and drown.

Unlikely.

I should, I should take a bath. I have those fancy bath salts from six Christmases ago.

“Mysterious Serum” by Sasha on her bed


Saturday September 10, 2016
11:01pm
5 minutes
Fallout

Fingers sticky with mysterious serum of future fugitives clasped in tight fists
Belly clenched a clam shell with macaroni and cheese inside open it up open
it up Face with a frown like winter like frostbite Breath reeks of coffee and fear Fingers to mouth Eat the serum The fugitives are here now They are here.

Keep looking over my shoulder for who I thought you were. Kindness evades. Mice in the pipes. Periods in place of spaces in place of joy in face of wonder. Keep looking over my shoulder for who I thought you were.

“What little it was” by Sasha on her couch


Friday September 9, 2016
12:17am
5 minutes
No Country For Old Men
Cormac McCarthy


Her shoulders are tight and her nipples are cracked and the baby rolled off the changing table and split his lip. Playground Moms will whisper and glare and she’ll put him in a swing that’s too big and push him too high and he’ll cry like he’s being tortured. Jeff gets home from the late shift and she wants him to fuck her but he grabs her belly fat and shakes his head. She watches The Shopping Channel until she passes out on the couch and wakes up because her tits are leaking Niagara Falls all over the place. The baby starts to cry and she wonders what kind of miracle it is that her tits know when he’s awake. They love him more than she does.

“You’re all a bunch of weirdos!” By Sasha on her couch


Thursday September 8, 2016
11:14pm
5 minutes
Said at Jackie’s

You scratch the place where I’m hurting and
I feel awkward and weird I feel words can never
do the things I want them too even though
I pretend I know them I pretend that they are my
business. My business is water and fire. My
business isn’t words. I set the timer I set it
again and again five minutes five minutes five
minutes. Ding time’s up. Ding it’s all over.
End of the world. End of the road. End of the
story. You scratch the place where the magic
lives.

“the body is a boat” by Sasha on the floor


Wednesday September 7, 2016
8:19am
5 minutes
The Ashtanga Yoga Primer
Baba Hari Dass


Snail puts his hand on my lower back and my skin crawls.

“Please don’t do that…”

He takes his hand away and sneers.

“What’s the matter, you got one of those weird “bubble” things?”

I know what he’s talking about. Nessa always says, “Don’t hug me. Don’t enter the bubble.”

But that’s not it. I do not have a bubble issue. I don’t want to be touched by Snail or even within touching distance of him.

“You’re the best.” By Sasha on her couch


Tuesday September 6, 2016
10:36pm
5 minutes
From a text

You’re the best scrabble player
the best omelette maker
the best big spoon to my small.
You’re the best smiler
the best joker
the best kisser of them all.
You’re the best listener
the best laugher
the best singer
the best heart.
You’re the best at impressions
the best at massages
the best stretcher
the best at splitting a coconut apart.

“it really is used” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Monday September 5, 2016
11:32am
5 minutes
from a schedule

Sometimes I think about you. I wonder strange things. Are you drinking enough water? Do you have any tattoos? I don’t wormhole down a Google search or a Facebook stalk. I languish in the space between questions about how you might have changed, the shape of your lips, the smell of the back of your neck. It is there were I find stillness, in the wondering. It is there I find comfort, and trust, and faith in the goodness of us. Are you drinking enough water?

“Nothing ever ends poetically.” By Sasha at her desk


Sunday September 4, 2016
11:51pm
5 minutes
from a quote by Kait Rokowsky

“Nothing ever ends as poetically as you hope it will,” Minnie takes off her pants and throws them onto the heap of laundry in the corner. Her bum’s gotten a bit bigger. It looks good. “You’re bum’s looking good,” I say, lying on her bed. “I’m a cow,” Minnie takes off her shirt and pulls on an old hockey jersey that used to belong to her brother. “Shut up,” I say, throwing a pillow in the shape of a panda at her. She catches it. Quick reflexes. “What do you think is going to happen? Will I get in anywhere?” She has tears in her eyes. She sits on the end of the bed, pulling her knees to her chest.

“sighing and frightened” by Julia at Caitlin’s


Saturday September 3, 2016
12:10am
5 minutes
from a poem by Mary Oliver

When you look out on the world that exists without you but for you
you start to see the things that fit you that are you that are waiting for you.
I am in awe of myself.
I am so vast. I have been life inside life inside life and now I have rippled past what I even knew I could be.
Vast. It is a dream. And yet it aches. This expansiveness. How I’ve yearned for it. And now that it is asking very sweetly if I can make room in my life inside my life inside my life for it, I feel
unsteady. Uneasy. Unprepared. Unworthy.
How long can a part of me frighten me? How long do I run from the big voices? What if they wail so loud only because they are trying to lead me back to myself? I see the world.
I see my wild.
It is not calmed by the breeze, but charged by it. I will carry myself across the wind like a baby bird with strong wings. Seeing this place as the echo of my heart.
And it is so big.
And I am so big.

“provide reasonable protection” by Julia while walking


Thursday, September 1, 2016
10:01pm
5 minutes
From an external hard drive warranty

I couldn’t pronounce the word but I knew it was one of those words that if you said the wrong way it would ruin you for life. Or was it one of those words that in English means one thing, but in a different language it means something completely inappropriate? What are those words called? Frenemeies? Word cousins? I don’t know, I’m no good with words in English even. But I didn’t want to pronounce it or even say it at all because I didn’t want to be laughed at. I have always been laughed at. What is the point of trying when you know people are just going to find the one thing that cuts you deep and rip open the wound even more? But who do I think I am anyway? I’m no wordsmith. I can’t be making metaphors! Who do I think I am?

“provide reasonable protection” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Thursday, September 1, 2016
9:51pm
5 minutes
From an external hard drive warranty

Margie adds a scoop of cumin to the chilli and watches a cardinal land on the big old maple that has seen it all. Craig putters in the basement. Jazz plays on the radio. She hasn’t been cooking much this winter, what with the tragedy at the school, and so many long hours. It feels good to have soaked the beans, stewed the tomatoes, chopped the garlic, onions, peppers and sweet potato, and toasted the spices, just the way her mother taught her. There won’t be cornbread, but there will be a thick nest of old cheddar on top. “Almost ready?” Craig calls up. He’s hungry, having met with a struggling student through his lunch break, causing him to forget to eat. Margie often finds sandwiches in Craig’s briefcase from days before. She shakes her head. He cares so much, she thinks, putting turkey and swiss, ham and cucumber, rye with almond butter and banana, right into the compost pail on the counter.

“they did not” by Sasha on her porch


Sunday, August 28, 2016
10:12pm
5 minutes
From a piece of feedback

They did not tell us that we would fight like dogs
and fuck like them too especially when the heat broke
They did not tell us that there would be days when
everything would feel broken
They did not say,
“Kindness is the most important thing, followed
closely by respect, by humour, by knowing when to
let it go and when to raise the torch.”
They did not say that there would be times when
we would be strangers sleeping side by side.
They did not tell us that we would fall deeper
in love with each fight, each fuck, each break,
each repair, each song, each pizza, each jump
underwater.

“We like what you’ve got to say” by Sasha on her couch


Saturday, August 27, 2016
12:07am
5 minutes
Penn’s Sunday School

The sound of the dry erase pen on the whiteboard makes my stomach turn. It’s hour five of eight and Henry’s voice woos me in and out of sleep. He came up and pinched my ear just after lunch when my head hit the desk and distracted everyone. At least that’s what he said. I could still taste him, which made that extra weird. It was our special arrangement – I’d blow him on our fifteen minute break in exchange for free driving school. On the fifteen minute break, everyone was either smoking or at the Seven Eleven buying coffee and Slurpees. Henry came in under six minutes, so it wasn’t an issue in that way. When he’d propositioned me, at first I said no. But I really wanted to be able to get to my job at Shoppers without having to take the bus.

“I keep thinking about the night we spent in Rome” by Sasha on the porch in Cowichan Bay


Friday August 26, 2016
10:50am
5 minutes
Super Sad True Love Story
Gary Shteyngart

I keep thinking about the night we spent in Rome, finding every fountain we could. You were wearing socks, so you had to peel them off each time. We waded around in each one of them, crouching down if someone came who we thought might get us in trouble. Walking barefoot over the cobblestone, we bought pepperoni sticks from a man on the corner and ate so many I got a stomach ache. We lay under a tree in a park where ladyboys wandered from bush to bush, telling each other secrets we’d never told anyone.

“for a fun birthday” by Sasha on the ferry


Thursday August 25, 2016
3:06pm
5 minutes
from a TMZ video

For my funnest birthday party we went to Ikea! I got to eat all the meatballs I wanted! It was practically heaven on earth, I mean, those meatballs are what dreams are probably made of! My cousin, Gemma, she’s only six, she ate so much ice cream that she puked in the ball pit. My Mom said, “This is a disaster!” And so now Gemma always says, “This is a disaster!” In her little tiny baby voice, “This is a disaster!” They had to empty the ball pit and we didn’t get to help, we just had to watch. That was not the funnest. But then my Mom bought me this lizard type of plush toy and she said, “Sorry that Gemma had to go and ruin this…” And she looked sad but I said, “This is the funnest birthday party, so don’t even worry about it!”