“two mirrors facing” by Julia at the studio

Monday June 24, 2019
6:59am
5 minutes
from an old vision board

I stuck a mirror in my makeup bag in case your aunt doesn’t have any mirrors,
or in case I can’t go a few days without looking at myself.
You are cool with this no electricity, no running water thing, and I am cool.
I am very cool about it. I have only thought about how I will dry my hair once, and the answer is AIR.
So that’s cool.
I have never showered in a lake before which I think I’m going to like.
Unless your aunt and her people all go down their naked together?
They’re not going to ask to shower with us are they?
Never mind, don’t answer that. I am very cool.

I also packed some pads. I’m not looking forward to having my period
on a paper plate again, so I’ll just..free-bleed..so all good.
Oh the plate? Yeah that was at a different cottage with running water and stuff
just the pipes froze over and we couldn’t use any of it.
I was bringing my blood on a plate out into the snow and burying it like a squirrel.
I don’t know if squirrels bury things like blood, but if so, we are all cool, all of us.

I wrote a note to our former selves because I’ve heard that living without
wifi for more than 24 hours really changes a person.
I wrote: You love each other, just because you can’t upload a picture of this
doesn’t mean it’s not happening!

“in a less than forgiving city” by Sasha at the table on Monkland


Wednesday September 28, 2016
10:12pm
5 minutes
vancouveractorsguide.com

In a less than forgiving city
where wind catcalls
and frost bites
we pull hoods around ears
so we can’t hear the whining
We trudge passed post apocalyptic nativities
We motor across bridges rife with dead fish
A salamander tries to get your attention
en route to capitalism
en route to mortgages
A salamander calls to you and asks for your heart

“Don’t tell anyone.” by Julia at her desk


Sunday December 6, 2015
9:43pm
5 minutes
http://www.globeandmail.com/life/parenting

Don’t tell anyone but I love the smell of my own skin. Like the ooey gooey yeasty smell of the inside of my bra after a long day of support and entrapment. I like it like I like the smell of your hands after they’ve been down your pants. I don’t know why but they smell the same to me. Secret Skin. Hidden in plain sight. Terribly crass. Undeniably human. I love the human you become when I’m an animal sniffing the sweat off your thighs. I ache for you to want me like your body has no choice. You tell me you like the smell of my arms, behind my ears, my belly button. I tell you to describe the scent that you like so much. I beg for you to prove it to me that it’s worth risking everything for.
You don’t know what to say except that it’s spicy and reeks of the earth. I am lifted from my bones when I hear you inhale me.

“Be aware.” by Julia at Souzan’s apartment


Monday, September 7, 2015
7:56pm
5 minutes
from a residential security poster

There’s a little cat that visits my apartment every night. Late. When everyone else in the world has gone to sleep except him and me. We’re up doing god knows what: prowling the streets, wishing there were more cheese puffs (respectively). He’s black and white and has on tiny speckle of grey right on his nose. He’s cute, but he’s confusing. Why does he visit me so late and isn’t there something he’d rather be doing? I sit out on my porch smoking Belmonts and making up video game style music. Usually I just hum it and it passes the time. But then sometimes this cat comes and I pet him, or I bring him out some tuna, or whatever I have. Some nights he brings me things too. Like last night, he came by around 4, usual time, and in his mouth he was carrying an ambiguous and bloody carcass. He dropped it at my feet. It’s still there now.