Sunday May 31, 2015
You can’t make fire with rain
STOP with the analogies
Just let me LIVE
I am trying so hard, believe me
Yeah, you’re not a martyr at all
You make me seem so horrible
So fucking horrible
I don’t know who this person you see is, but I swear it’s not me
It takes horrible to know horrible
Why would you say that?
I don’t know
Maybe you resist being horrible
because you are horrible
I didn’t mean that
Please don’t leave
Saturday May 30, 2015 at the Artscape Youngplace Building
From a text to Julia
I was in Halifax when I tried my first piece. Salt water. Perfect Melting New Religion. I bought 6 lbs of the stuff and threw out a pair of running shoes and a flask so I could fit it into my suitcase.
Emmy said, “I would have taken those shoes!”
Taryn said, “you know you can buy that stuff in Ontario too, right?”
But I knew it wouldn’t have been the same. It was like entering a childhood backwards, and experiencing something that was never mine but felt like it was meant to be. Now I don’t go for any old taffy. And why would I? I don’t hate myself for Christ’s sake! Why would I walk if I could run? No scratch that–FLY.
Friday December 13, 2013
metro weekend December 14-15, 2013
She’s too sweet like a bag of candy from the bulk barn. You think you’re going to get sick of the sweetness, but then you see the bag there and you just can’t help yourself. You’re an addict for it, and you know you’ve had better quality than this before. You keep forgetting for a split second how unsubstantial it is, how filled with sugar to mask the lack of flavour. She’s like that. She’s one of those small doses, don’t miss it till you have it again and realize it’s been too long since you’ve had it in the first place. You keep hoping each bite will taste slightly different, maybe a touch of mint, you convince yourself was in the last attempt. She’s like that. She let’s you eat her up and think about how she’s doing absolutely nothing good for you. She’s not a cleanse, or a diet. She’s not a New Year’s resolution, or a necessary amount of nutrients for your daily intake. She’s nothing and everything, and she consumes you the way you consume her. The way you forget to make a proper meal for yourself because your body is tricked into feeling full after just one or two handfuls. Then before you know it, it’s past the hour you thought you’d be sleeping by, and it all seems so hard to stop.
Sunday November 3, 2013
The Birth Of Frankenstein program
When we first arrived in Winnipeg, it was rainy and it was Autumn and it was colder than anything we were used to. On our third night of trying to settle into our small, blue bungalow, my mother was feeding my younger sister, Beth, and I beef stew. We were grumbling about missing Edinburgh. Our father had received a contract with a chemical engineering company and, having been politely asked to leave his previous job seven months prior, we quickly uprooted for the Canadian prairie. On that fateful third night, Beth and I ceaselessly reaming out our poor mother (we would never dream of doing such a thing with Dad), there was an unassuming knock at the door. My mother, Beth and I behind her, heard an echo of “Trick or Treat!” from a chorus of ghosts, none more than five feet tall. My mother shrieked and Beth and I jumped back. The poor parents escorting their brood on a Halloween expedition had to explain to my mother what this all was. Before we knew it, Beth was in one of my mothers fancy dresses and I wore my father’s best suit. We took to the street.
Monday, July 1, 2013
I cut my tongue on a green-flavoured sucker. I don’t know what kind of green it was, it wasn’t sour apple, I know that. But it was green the way red things taste just red. Like cherry, yeah, or strawberry, fine, but usually the red ones of anything taste best and that’s simply just because they’re red. I spent all of last week eating suckers and coke-bottle candies while laying in bed and reading East of Eden from cover to cover. I think my body needed kale, and I was so far away from kale that I just kept having the green ones. Of the candies when the coke-bottles ran out. I never had patience to suck on those damn things for long. They always beckoned to me, wanted me to chew them. So I did. I just chomped down on it till it all got stuck to the crevices of all my molars on the right side. I always get cavities in the same place, but whatever, green is green is green is green. That’s a saying I started saying. Cause of all the sugar and all the Steinbeck. You just start talking in clever quotes when you’ve read about the evils of humanity for days on end.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
She smells like tangerines. You instantly love her. If you showed me that love I would keel over in laughter (and, maybe, tears), I would keel over in gratitude to God. “You smell like onions and tuna fish, Mom,” is what I get. First Grade Teacher love, okay. I get it. She smells like tangerines, she gives you yellow happy face stickers when you do well on a spelling test, she’s the one who is telling you that you’re smart, you’re creative, you’re special. “Miss Fleck says that it’s going to be an early spring!” You come home with a crepe paper flower crown on your head. “Miss Fleck says that we should give away half our Halloween candy to the Sugar Fairy!” You do, incredibly, with the self-restraint of a monk. Right down the garbage shoot. “Miss Fleck says that even though there’s that war on terror going on, everything is going to be all right!” You are smiling, one of your front teeth wobbling so much I can’t help but smile too. Miss Fleck, bright blue eyes and short cropped hair, I am glad that you are teaching my boy. Tangerines. Ha.