“Brady and Rix” by Julia at the desk

Saturday July 21, 2018
11:40am
5 minutes
Fever Pitch
Nick Hornby

Brady and Rix are the names of my imaginary kids.
They’re both neutral names but they’re both boys.
I am seeing my life with boys. I am allowed to see
what ever I want. God made me a writer. This is what
that’s for. Dreaming. Going there. Writing stories.
Brady is the older brother. My first. I love him like
an avalanche. Falling over myself every day. Knocked
down by love for the kid who can fit inside my pocket.
He holds my hand and calls me mama. He loves bubbles
and laughing and me. And his dad. He loves his dad so much.
He thinks everything he does is amazing. And everything
he does is amazing. Rix is the baby. He’s very serious.
He looks at everything with curiosity. He wants to know
my soul and does not let go. He is learning with a bit
of discernment. He loves being in the water. He pours
out of me and into things and into light. The whole room
loves him.

“I don’t ever think about death” by Sasha at the Airbnb in Kelowna


Monday March 13, 2017
11:32pm
5 minutes
Glory And Gore
Lorde

He breathes fire
He drives a yellow Honda
Civic and always
goes at least thirty
kilometers over
the speed limit

I’m not sure if
he thinks that
he’s beyond the
parameters of life
and death or if
he’s just jacked
up on energy drinks
and the fact that
his muscles are growing

He isn’t interested
in women or girls
He goes to work at
the lumber yard and
then he drives to
the gym

That’s it really

Sometimes he’ll go
to a party at Steve’s
place and when he’s
there everyone will
say

“Why don’t you ever
hang out, man?”

“trying to teach them technology” by Sasha at her kitchen


Monday February 27, 2017
9:25pm
5 minutes
From a text

Bobby makes Owen laugh, and that’s why
he keeps him around. Some people have
sidekicks and some people have acne
especially on their chins and foreheads.
Bobby has acne. Owen has
two girlfriends.
They weren’t always
friends, in fact, they used to be sworn
enemies, in the way that
nine year old boys
swear in blood and sticks whittled
with their fathers’ pen knives.

Owen asks Bobby if he wants a turn
with one of his girlfriends. Bobby
doesn’t know what that means,
politely declines. They are sitting
inside the slide in the schoolyard
where they used to go to school,
where they swore in blood,
made statements bigger than their bodies,
bigger than their dreams of the NHL
(Owen)
and running a non-profit that serves
both the hungry and stray cats
(Bobby)

“your field of experience” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Saturday, March 26, 2016
10:36pm
5 minutes
http://www.mysticmamma.com/

field research: the boss who flirts unabashedly in front of his wife so much so that she hate me and finally after four years he fires me in the same office the same office where we used to talk about rumi and cinnamon and i don’t walk out of the restaurant and i don’t shame or trash talk and i crouch behind the bar so that my five tables enjoying their famous salad dressing enjoying their meals so that my five tables won’t see these tears.

field research: innocent until proven guilty that men grasp like a medal because the only one it protects is them the corrosive fear that makes me feel afraid to have daughters afraid to have daughters and afraid to have sons more so almost because what has happened to this generation of men that twist and burn and choke and shut down and i know it’s not just about gender i know that this binary is reductive to folks I’M SORRY OKAY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY what will happen when this generation of women has boys and we will try our best to teach them how to love how to love how to love.

“he couldn’t explain or understand.” By Sasha at her kitchen table


Thursday February 4, 2016
10:16pm
5 minutes
4000 Days
Warren Fellows


Michael smells like mustard. Maxin smells like broccoli soup (and not the cheesy kind, the vegan kind, with cashews instead of dairy). Moses smells like burnt hair. Mel smells like dirt, but healthy damp dirt, but dry dirt. That’s just the “M’s”… I could go on but I won’t. I save you that particular pleasure.

“I like the part with the guitar solo and that’s pretty much it,” Zach says and he means it. He hates the rest of the song. I only played it for him once, so maybe it will grow on him. Maybe on Wednesday he’ll love it, and want to put it on repeat on his iPod shuffle (if that’s even possible). I’m guessing that’s probably what’s going to happen.

“A boy in my algebra class nicknamed me “terrorist”” by Julia at English Bay Beach


Saturday September 12, 2015
8:01pm
5 minutes
https://broadly.vice.com/en_us/article/life-as-a-hairy-muslim-girl-after-911

I think Luke heard it from his dad or something. Luke is always coming into class with his big words and his big hate and it sounds like stuff his dad says. My dad says that Luke’s dad is a vessel of pure sadness. I don’t get how he thinks he’s sad, cause Luke’s dad is always yelling and screaming and swearing and stuff and that seems like he’s pretty angry to me. Sad is when you cry and when your nose leaks and your stomach gets that empty feeling. How do you get that sad empty feeling when you’re always filling your stomach with cans of beer?
Luke is always saying things to me or to Ruby about our skin and about our voices. He laughs and his face goes all red when he holds my arms behind my back and calls me a “terrorist.”

“her request seems to have been ignored.” By Julia on her patio


Sunday, August 16, 2015
11:01am
5 minutes
The New Yorker

Okay so we’re both wearing the same shirt which is not the first time and Dalton comments on Janie’s shirt and not mine which makes me want to compete with her even more, as if I don’t have a butt-loaf of insecurities I am already baking. Maybe because when Dalton walks into the shop, I start talking to him about all the various colours and flavours our cotton candy machine is capable of producing and Janie just sits quietly roping a strand of hair around her index finger with big shy eyes that don’t offend Dalton like my excessive and sometimes obnoxiously loud commentary does.

“Heart hugs” by Sasha at Culprit Coffee


Wednesday December 3, 2014 at Culprit Coffee
10:02am
5 minutes
A text message

A: Hey.
B: Hey!
A: How’s it goin’?
B: Okay… I got in a fight with Bobby last night so I got no sleep and now I’m really tired.
A: What was the fight about?
B: He keeps checking out butts! When I’m right there! And I’ve had it! So, I called him on it and he freaked.
A: You have a great butt. I don’t know why he’d ever have to look at someone else’s butt when he has yours all the livelong day!
B: RIGHT?!
A: I’ve said it once and I’ll say it a thousand more times, you are too good for Bobby!
B: But… I love him.
A: And that is what I simply don’t understand.

Beat.

A: I, I… I have something that I want to –
B: And, like, when I even bring you up to him he gets that jealous look and his forehead gets sweaty!
A: Really?
B: Yeah! Which is ridiculous because we’re JUST FRIENDS!
A: Ridddiculous…

“Power protects power” by Sasha at Higher Grounds


Saturday November 1, 2014 at Higher Grounds
4:12pm
5 minutes
From the program notes for Saint Joan at the Arts Club

I have a huge crush on Jay. Like, huge. I realize that I act like an idiot around him, laughing and blushing and pretending I don’t know things that I do know. I know a lot of things. My voice gets high and my cheeks get red and I almost can’t feel my toes when I’m around him. I can see myself, floating above, the real me, the one that has read the whole Young Adult section at the library, acting like a fucking bimbo idiot. I am ashamed of myself.

“The professional sailors” by Julia in her bed at Ozu


Monday September 15, 2014 at Ozu
12:16am
5 minutes
from http://www.capri.net

Those boys in their tiny hats
Choosing dance from the inspiration in the stars
The big dipper sings
The Milky Way hums
They close their eyes tight when they actively want beauty
Bringing the excluded ones
All the way from their wall beds
To the centre of the moment
So they can laugh steady and bright
Little ones cheer as if in an arena
The whole team rooting for the single silver thread that binds them

“September I’ll remember” by Sasha in her kitchen


Thursday, July 17, 2014
9:16pm
5 minutes
April Come She Will
Simon And Garfunkel



In September I’ll remember the wild call of your heart to mine.
In September I’ll remember avoiding your phone call like mono kisses.
In September I’ll remember myself, and you, braiding grass and drinking warm beer from cans.
In September I’ll remember when you told me and how we cried and how you looked younger than the day you were born.
In September I’ll remember when we decided to have sex and how salty it was and how gentle you were and how happy I was to have escaped the mystery.
In September I’ll remember meeting Jer, your first boyfriend, the one who taught you everything you know about being with a man, and I’ll remember how he looked me up and down and said I was a “fairy queen”.
In September I’ll remember visiting you in Montreal and eating too much salami and laughing til I peed and I took off my undies and threw them in the woods.

“Do you have what it takes” by Sasha in her garden


Sunday June 22, 2014
5:39pm
5 minutes
from an email

My knees have splinters. I’ve been praying a lot. Do you pray? (Sigh). I used to have a problem with that word because I didn’t think I deserved it, I didn’t think I had what it takes. I was raised Catholic so… prayer was pretty connected to shame and… repentance. I was an alter boy, you know. That fucking hilarious. Father Nathan would stroke my head and his hand was hot. He had eyes like glaciers, like, like, a husky. He was a good guy. I remember telling him that I’d masturbated and he smiled and said, “better that then getting in fights like the other boys your age!” And he winked. He winked a lot. Makes you feel special, when someone winks at you, even if you know that they do it at other people too… Makes you feel like there’s a secret there, between you. Gives you a flutter in your belly.

“Virginia” by Julia at Sambuca Grill


Thursday June 5, 2014 at Sambuca Grill
7:34pm
5 minutes
from a sign on the wall of the Antique Shop

I wanted to call her Ginny because I thought that was cute but Madeleine bit my head off about it and said I had to call her by her full name, Virginia, or everyone else would start calling her stupid “off-shoot” names. She said “off-shoot” as if it were some terrible disease. I think nicknames are sweet. Mad never cared that I called her a short-form. It wasn’t an “off-shoot” as much as it was a term of endearment. Something you call someone that means something to you because it’s your thing and her thing or his thing or whatever. Anyway, Virginia ended up being a boy so we had to think of another name for her after all. I always picture when we have a girl, or if we do, that Mad will want to still call her Virginia and maybe I can call her Ginny when Mad’s not around so it can be our special thing, just the two of us. Names are a very important part of a person’s identity. I don’t want to have a kid that has to go around correcting everybody just because they call her a name her mother doesn’t like. She’s the one who calls me Mike when she knows my mother hates it when I get anything other than Michael.

“Free evening newspaper” by Julia at Sambuca Grill


Tuesday March 11, 2014 at Sambuca Grill
9:33pm
5 minutes
the to.night street box

Charlie and Ray were spying on Lacey again from their bedroom window. Lacey’s room was in perfect view of the boy’s room and they got real good at sitting in the complete darkness just waiting for Lacey to come home from violin practice and..you know..change for bed. Charlie saw her first, and as such was very protective. Charlie knew that Ray was just eager to see her lady business and he didn’t actually appreciate Lacey the way he did..the way she deserved.
Ray was under the influence of her spell binding, maturing body…parts…and he could tell that Charlie was maybe gay or just plain stupid if he turned his face away every time she took her top off. Ray was certain that he would have Lacey to himself one day soon because it looked like Charlie was getting bored of her, always conveniently finding a crossword or a weather clipping from the nightly newspaper to pay attention to just when it was getting good.

“on the contrary” by Sasha on the Bathurst streetcar


Wednesday, September 18, 2013
4:42pm
5 minutes
from the Dawn to Earth pamphlet

I left the city. Bunny came with me. He got his own seat on the bus and everything. He didn’t cry much, only once when we stopped and we didn’t get to buy a chocolate bar. I told him it would be better where we were going. Better than Hal trying to get us to eat cheese from a can and Mommy laughing at the empty bottles. I told him that Babar would never make us do the stack of dishes. All I knew was that Babar lived in Fance. I figured France must be close to London. I knew we could take a bus to London because I’d seen it on the Departure screen when we’d gone to St. Thomas to visit Aunt Ashley at Christmas. I told Bunny how Babar would treat us like princes and we still might have to share a room, but it would be so big we wouldn’t even notice. Bunny just looked at me like, “Drool”.

“could go wrong.” by Julia on her couch


Tuesday January 29, 2013
3:56pm
5 minutes
The Well in the Frog
Jana Gatien


You’re in my bed. It’s a good thing. You’ve baked me a stuffed potato or whatever and you’ve washed your feet, which is also a good thing. You’re playing some stupid game on your phone and you’re asking me stupid philosophical questions that don’t really need answers. You’re sweet. You’re very kind to your mother when she calls, even though she sometimes calls 3 or 4 times a day. I like that you have patience. I don’t, so I like that you do. You’re in my bed.
I didn’t ask you here, or force you. You just sort of knew so you came one day and you haven’t left yet. I do the groceries and I don’t make you pay me back for any of it because getting to sleep beside you every night is pay back enough. In the good sense. It’s just that I have these nightmares and when I’m alone they get real crazy. But when you’re here, when I can smell your skin, I don’t have them at all. I dream about daisies a lot which should be weird but it’s not.
You sometimes scratch the space on my neck in between the flat parts.