“none of which are taken very seriously.” By Julia on Amanda’s red chair

Tuesday December 18, 2018
9:40pm
5 minutes
From an email

The girl downstairs blasts her stereo. It’s new. She never used to blast anything before. She has played Drake and no one else I recognize. It’s past my bedtime but aside from today she’s been pretty good about turning it off by 9pm. 9pm is my bedtime. I’m waiting to see if she figures that out or if a guy leaves her place. That would explain the volume. She’s entertaining. I don’t hear voices. Maybe they’re dancing. I could go down there and throw a stone at her door but this is something my therapist advises against. She says I can take certain things too seriously. I’m being really patient for the reccord. I haven’t thrown anything at all yet. I haven’t banged on the floor like some people would at exactly 9:46pm on a Tuesday. Maybe Tuesdays are her new Fridays because Wednesdays are her new Saturdays.

“the games you don’t play” by Sasha at Platform Seven


Friday June 17, 2016 at Platform Seven
7:51am
5 minutes
What You Don’t Do
Lianne La Havas


You don’t play those kinds of games that other guys play. The ones where they act all interested, all invested, and then dive off the deep end, out of nowhere. “It’s called ‘ghosting’,” someone said at a dinner party last night. You thought about it when you brushed your teeth, carefully polishing each one with the rechargeable electric toothbrush. “Ghosting,” you whisper, rubbing vaseline into your lips and the callouses on your feet. You don’t play those kinds of games. Helen texts when you’re already in bed and you know it’s her before you check the screen. She’s close by and wants to come over. You switch your phone onto silent and turn out the light. “Ghosting…”

“When did we leave for thing there?” By Sasha at her kitchen table


Sunday January 18, 2015
10:10pm
5 minutes
Overheard at Julia’s aunt’s house

Little one, if you call? I’ll be there before you can say my name again, before you can blink twenty times, before you get scared. If you’re tucked in and you get a chill, close your eyes and imagine you’re on the beach and the ocean is coo-ing you and crashing you to warmth and sleep. My baby, the nightmares come, they do, I’m sorry, but so do the ecstatic dreams of present and future. When the nightmares come just meet them. Meet them, don’t run. They’ll chase you if you try to get away. Face them and say, “HEY! YOU!” And be patient because maybe around the next corner is something fabulous. When we leave things behind, we rarely need to go back for them, they are usually good just where they are. I love you, monkey, I love you fiercely and massively. I love you wider than the sky.

“I’m not doing this with you right now” by Sasha in her bed


Wednesday August 13, 2014
1:03am
5 minutes
from a conversation

J. and A. are lying in bed. A. has been attempting to fall asleep for forty six minutes. J. is snoring softly. A. tosses and turns. She finally elbows J.
A: You’re snoring!
J: Arrr –
A: Jason, you’re fucking snoring again…
J: Sorry.
A: I can’t fucking sleep!
J: Mmmm –
A: It’s like sleeping beside a St. Bernard!
J: Sorry.
A: Or a pug!
J. chuckles. A. chuckles.
J: You’re cute.
A: You need to go sleep on the couch.
J: What? Why? You’re so cuddly!
A: I have that stupid interview tomorrow and if I’m tired I won’t present well and I won’t get the job and we’ll live in this basement apartment forever and ever and ever –
J: Okay, okay…
A: Thanks. Sorry. I love you.
J. gets out of bed and takes his pillow. He kisses A. on the forehead.

“the origins, the history, culture” by Sasha at Early Bird Espresso and Brew Bar


Friday April 24, 2014 at Early Bird Espresso and Brew Bar
11:26am
5 minutes
An e-mail about grappa

“What are you afraid of?” you ask me, our heads on the same pillow, that sacred space, where noses touch and breath swirls together. “Oh God, how am I supposed to answer that?!” I say, a bit too loud, given that we’re tired, and it’s been a long day, and we’re using bedtime voices. “What’s the first thing you think of?” You’re so encouraging and patient and wise. Goddamnit. “I’m afraid I’ll never be “in the best shape of my life”, that I’ll never be able to actually connect with that phrase… Shit. That sounds so superficial – ” You interrupt me by kissing my nose. “So, tomorrow,” you’re setting out a plan for me, “let’s go for a run… I’ll show you those crazy squats that Simon’s been doing. You should see his ass! It’s totally insane!” I can’t believe we’re talking about your bother’s ass right now. “I’m also afraid that you’re going to realize how fucked up I am, but that’s only going to happen once we’re actually married and then you’re going to want an annulment and I’ll truly never be able to recover from something like that.”