“a work in progress” by Julia on the futon


Monday September 21, 2015
11:33pm
5 minutes
from a dramaturge’s notes

I stare into the mirror, I am naked.
Paint me.
I hear myself say.
I am naked.
Am I ashamed?
Paint me.
Do I need clothes?
Paint me something good.
I hear myself whisper to myself.
I want layers of art. Not fabric.
Paint my heart, thumping.
And I do.
Paint my lungs singing.
And I do.
Paint my mind growing.
Paint my skin softening.
Paint my posture straightening.
Paint my arms strengthening.
Paint my smile more genuine.
Paint my eyes brightening.
Paint my worries lessening.
Paint my self-consciousness subsiding.
Paint my risk taking.
Paint my understanding.
Paint my learning.
And I do. I do.

“Writing is so difficult” by Julia on her bed


Monday October 13,2014
9:33pm
5 minutes
A quote by Jessamyn West

It’s like opening every vein in your body but not at the entry points that doctors use to administer needles. You have to dig around in all the uncomfortable spots where the vein isn’t prominent, and then open it up from the inside and let the blood pour out. It needs to gush and splatter inside first before you’re allowed to open your skin–unfold every layer, peel it back, the old and the new, and let it fill whatever canvas is closest. And you have to do it vein by vein, one by one. And you have to do it by yourself because no on else knows where these soft spots live like you do, and you have to do it every time you want to express something real, communicate your feelings, and go to bed feeling like a positive change has taken place. It’s not easy. It is so difficult. But the more you do it, the more you know you must keep doing it. You must.

“The flavours are so simple but they’re so good” by Julia on her bed at oZu


Friday September 19, 2014
11:38pm
5 minutes
from Jess’ phone conversation

Sometimes it’s tricky, you know, because you’re staring at an entire counter covered in makeup. You’re following? It’s a metaphor but it doesn’t have to be so keep that in mind. And you’re looking at it, right, this whole table top lined with lipsticks and mascaras and eyeshadows, and you’re thinking, but how am I supposed to choose which colour I use? You ask that to yourself because you’re going out for a special night or something and it’s totally acceptable
if you dress up more than usual and get creative. So you’re with me? You can’t help yourself but you don’t want to help yourself. You just want to indulge. You don’t even choose a couple colours to narrow down. You instead, now stay close, put them all on. You layer the greens and the purples and you mix the turquoise with the gold. Your face is a blank canvas and you’re in love all of a sudden with how you look in excess. You know? You+you=worried that you’ll never have that chance again.

“I start anywhere and finish somewhere else.” By Sasha at Balluchon


Thursday January 30, 2014 at Balluchon
11:45am
5 minutes
Kitchen Ghost
Teetle Clawson


He starts anywhere and finish somewhere else. That’s pretty much the only method to it. And he doesn’t sleep past nine twenty. Anyone that sleeps past nine twenty is labelled “lazy”. When he chooses his canvases he looks for the ones with flaws, he chooses those ones. The same with women. If they appear angelic, likelihood is they’re hiding something. When he stands before the large square of white, he closes his eyes and pictures the Rocky Mountains, their majesty, and it helps him take himself less seriously. Sometimes he starts in the middle. Sometimes he finishes there. The same with sex. The same with eating a pomegranate.