“Said she’s comin’ back to stay” by Sasha at her desk

Sunday January 28, 2018
8:35pm
5 minutes
Gonna Have Love
Buck Owens

I’m the one at the edge, clutching a glass of club soda, looking at my scuffed shoes. When you come over, when you walk towards me, my heart races and I think, “Ohmygosh it’s finally happening.”

But you’re not coming towards me. You’re leaving. You’re going to the bathroom. You’re going to get some air. You’ve got to make a phone call and the fiddle music is too loud in here. Why did I come? I don’t belong here? What was I thinking? How did I let Ma talk me into this ridiculous – ? I could also go get air. I could also go the the bathroom. I could leave. I could… I know that Franny said that she’s comin’ back to stay but there’s never been a liar like Franny…

“Does it not sound like shouting to them?” By Sasha at the Intercontinental Yorkville

Saturday January 13, 2018
5:46pm
5 minutes
The Sisters Brothers
Patrick DeWitt

Ginny goes to dance class. She takes the streetcar across town, and walks twelve minutes to the studio. She’s glad that she doesn’t have to wear a leotard, but that she does have to wear ballet slippers. She used to dance when she was young, but then her teacher, Natasha, said that she doesn’t contain an “iota of grace” and so she stopped. But it haunted her. Natasha’s British accent and her delivery, not exactly cruel in tone, but direct, icy. Ginny changes into shorts and a baggy tank top. She smiles at Leanne, a sixty-nine year old former pastry chef, who is wiggling into tights.

“Know this place?” by Sasha in Mississauga

Friday September 29, 2017
2:40pm
5 minutes
from google maps

He leers and I lurch and we move
And I say
Back off
Step away
Give space

I am my own protector
I am my own
Owning the air between
Old world and new future

The void is thick
But the music is loud
And that helps
That helps

So many faces
From the yesterday seasons
Stepping in time to the drum
I’m tired
And I’m glad

When that snake spoke
I fell but quick quick
I stood and there I was
In and outside of myself
There I was

“I need to buy some tango shoes” by Julia at K’s Airbnb

Thursday September 14, 2017
11:24pm
5 minutes
overheard at the airport

-I do not want to take dancing lessons if you’re not going to take lessons aiming your dick into the toilet bowl. I’m sick of stepping in the drips.
-You left BLOOD splatters on the toilet seat last week. Blood.
-Yeah because you know who doesn’t lift the seat to pee? How am I supposed to know it’s even there, Dillon?
-So this is all about me?
-Christ, you cannot write this shit.
-Write what? What?
-You only have one switch and that’s “attacked”. I’m not attacking you I’m observing. You know, paying attention.
-Fuck your sarcasm Marie, I am not kidding.
-Can’t handle the truth, Dillion?
-Can’t handle my fiancé, Marie.

“I need to buy some tango shoes” by Sasha in an airplane heading East

Thursday September 14, 2017
2:39pm
5 minutes
overheard at the airport

Marsha keeps talking about her fucking tango shoes. It’s driving me up the wall. She acts like she knows how to dance. What she does is not dancing, I don’t know what it is, but it isn’t tango. And besides, there’s no such thing as tango shoes! Put some leather on the bottom of your best lace up heels. There. Tango shoe. Marsha’s all talk. She talks and talks but nothing ever comes of it. She never actually does it. I wouldn’t be surprised if she hasn’t even taken one class. She’s off the rails.

“The Movement project” by Sasha in her bed


Thursday July 27, 2017
12:39am
5 minutes
Sophie Spiridonoff’s artist statement

Clara decides to dance every day for one hundred days. She calls it “One Hundred Days of Dancing”. She posts videos of herself on Instagram. At first she isn’t sure why she’s doing it. She gets a phone call from her first follower (Martha), who says, “You need to shave you armpits, Clara.” Martha is Clara’s mother. After seven days, she has three hundred followers. They post words of encouragement and smiley faces and the dancing woman in a red dress emoji. Clara buys a red dress and dances in it and the video is overwhelmingly popular. Clara didn’t start dancing to become popular. She did it to heal a broken heart. Her mutt died and she forgot how to feel joy and then she remembered that dancing used to bring her joy, as a child.

“While I watched a yellow caterpillar” by Sasha on her couch


Wednesday March 29, 2017
11:24pm
5 minutes
Standing
Shel Silverstein


My sister had dance class on Thursday nights. My Mom would take her there. I’m not sure what she would do while my sister danced – did she read a book? Eat a chocolate chip cookie? See a friend?

My Dad and I would be home alone together. This was rare. It was treasured. The King and Queen would come for dinner. We would eat something my Mom had left on the stove for us.

Afterwards, when the food had settled and the King and Queen had left, we would go into the dining room and dance to Dire Straits. Sometimes I would dance on my own feet and sometimes my Dad would pick me up.

“Who taught us to embrace life” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Monday May 30, 2016
5:13pm
5 minutes
from a bench memorial plaque

if I was born a dancer
in body in stead of
in words
i would move like i move
in water
in bed sheets
like i mov-
ed at twenty-three
on sweaty dance
floors kissing
strangers like
my tongue knew
things my gut
didn’t i’ve always
wished i were a dancer
dancing to teach me
to embrace the rhythm in-
herent in my womban-
ness my woman-
mess dancing teaches me
about my unborn daughter’s
heart
beat
a dj who knows what i
ache for
ate for
breakfast lunch midnight
snack picking up bobbi
pins from the women’s
washroom
womb
in
womb out
worn in
worn out
ring in
ring out
ring on

“Secret Sundays” by Julia in her bed


Thursday January 28, 2016
12:12am
5 minutes
A Mission Kitsilano business card

There’s a few of us who meet at dusk and always on Sundays. Meredith came up with the idea but had no real concept of how important it would become. None of us did. She came to me with the thought of gathering, combining energies, uniting, and giving offerings. Meredith thought it would be a nice gesture if she danced while I offered my singing to the powers that be; to the earth; to the sky. The others started joining us, Reemah with her prayers and Tilda with her tears. Our ceremonies last for sometimes 90 minutes. There is a lot of openness and engaging that none of us get elsewhere. The group is especially honouring of my offering and sometimes ask me to sing three or four times. I am good at creating safety with my voice: acting as an umbrella energy for all of our gifts to come together underneath and feel at home.

“a wacky one” by Sasha on the 16


Saturday, January 16, 2016
11:03am
5 minutes
Sasha’s notebook

He’s got that dancer body
He’s proud of it
Like lightning
Like trouble
He moves with grapefruit grace
With big hands and a bigger heart
With grace and assuredness that belies his
twenty two years
He inhabits every inch of himself like
a
proclamation
Like he’s arrived and we’
re late
I’ve never seen a body like his body and I don’t know
what to do with it
When I stand
naked
in front of him
nipples shy
hips like the winter grey moon
he
he looks
a shooting star in periferal vision

“all-day softness” by Julia at Souzan’s apartment


Monday September 14, 2015
9:19pm
5 minutes
from a tube of hand cream

Lounging around the house with my slippers on, feet up on the couch, and you lean in deep to kiss me.

-Whatcha reading?
-The Bible, what does it look like?
-Ohhh, recipes.
-Big surprise, huh?

You hunch your back and drag your right foot as you slouch back and forth in front of me.

-Would you still love me if I walked like this?
-No.
-Not even like this?

You start to flap your arms wildly by your sides, still dragging around your dead foot.

-Almost yes, but still no.

You grab my arms and you place them around your waist. You sway, and you shimmy hard under my hands.

-Wanna dance?
-Oh we are dancing.
-I’m dancing, you’re resisting.
-I’m reading!
-And she multi-tasks, everybody!

“the Moon moves into harmony” by Julia on Joe’s couch


Friday, August 28, 2015
11:37pm
5 minutes
from the Gemini horoscope in Cafe Astrology

I can feel her calling
Tugging on my heart
Pulling me close to her
Dancing with me till the night’s song is over
And she flows through me like a light
Like a flame
And she gives me freedom like a flight
Like a dream
She brushes the hair away from my ear and whispers the truth so no one can hear
Cause it’s meant for me
And it has to be
This little thing called faith
Calm shore rocky sea
She spins me around before the morning wakes up
Twirls me unfurls me
Spreads me wide for the wind

“Me time” by Sasha on the ferry to Horseshoe Bay


Sunday, August 2, 2015
10:35am
5 minutes
Facebook

He’s dancing on the porch, swaying like a willow tree, beard winding down his chest now, eyes half closed. He’s singing along to the music on the record player. He forgets about the bottle of whiskey. He forgets about Olive weeding in the garden. He’s dancing on the porch and he’s back in Havana, back in a time that’s cola in a glass bottle and his mother’s hands pulling out the knots in his hair.

“Tito?” Olive carries a basket full of string beans.

“friends to build your community” by Julia on Laura’s ottoman


Monday December 22, 2014
1:45am
5 minutes
from grooveshark.com


Like a kiss to build a dream on…
Said it best, didn’t he? Armstrong on the radio. Watch the sun burst–Burst? Yes, burst through the trees, sort of sweet force and…And? Excitement! Like a Sunday orange! Ahh the citric explosion. Burst, yes. Burst. And the dream? Which? To be built on a kiss? Armstrong? Yes, Armstrong. The dream was about the sun and the kiss was about the future. Oh. Yes, it really works, doesn’t it? I see it now, of course I do. It was enough in that moment to entice the whole movement. Dancing on clouds and pick pocketing tiny stars from the pretty night sky.

“These days it’s hard to get a decent haircut” by Sasha on her couch


Friday December 5, 2014
10:54pm
5 minutes
Kinfolk Volume 13

She’s so sweaty but she doesn’t want to take off her sweatshirt because it will bring too much attention. She’s only wearing a sports bra underneath. She tries to go back in. The bouncer, must be seven feet tall, three hundred pounds, “Nope… Can I see some ID?” “My coat’s inside, I’ve been inside, you let me in before.” “I don’t remember you…” “Are you kidding me? I’ve been dancing for hours, look at me!” “Call your friends and get them to bring you your coat and show me your ID.” “My friends left an hour ago…” “Well, shucks Princess, I don’t know what to tell you…” She starts to say something then stops herself. She gives him the finger. She goes around back to the alley.

“Men can be really great allies” by Julia on Nicole’s couch


Wednesday August 27, 2014
6:08pm
5 minutes
The Georgia Straight

Of course he’s standing beside me on my wedding day. He’s the best man I know besides the man I’m marrying so why wouldn’t I have him? I’m not going to make him wear a dress, that’s so stupid. He’s going to look sharp in his suit and he’s going to only take attention away from me for a little bit at the start of the day because he knows how to rock a suit better than anyone else will in that entire room. I’ve known him since I switched personalities. I was one person before we met and then when I found him, I shook his hand and accepted the deal that I would be this person now. I was always this person just now I’d be her all the time and out loud and acceptance and love and tenderness for her or whatever. He enforced my soul with his and we danced a bit, probably to Mariah, or Ciara-hips out, sweat dripping.

“we loved with a love that was more than love” by Julia at her desk


Thursday February 13, 2014
10:16am
5 minutes
Annabel Lee
Edgar Allan Poe


And we knew it by the candle light that threatened to disappear
With kitchen slow dancing to a Sam Cooke masterpiece
And a couple loose kisses caught by whoever’s mouth was closest
And we knew it then
And we knew it then
The tile underneath our stocking feet
Inviting us to glide with the movement of each other
And a fistful of tickling hairs brushing across our cheeks
And we knew it then
And we knew it then
The night was our playground, our solace, our cure
Saving breaths for only when we needed them
Not wanting to disturb the peace our hearts had found inside each other’s chest
And we knew it then
And we knew it then
Holding dear those smiling eyes and those fluttering eye-lashes
With a whisper of eternity in the chorus of our love song
And a natural tendency to sink into the only moment that ever mattered
And we knew it then
And we knew it then

“MOD, MINI, METALLIC” by Sasha in The Kiva


Friday January 3, 2014
6:42pm
5 minutes
vintage shop on College

You think you’re so special in your minidress with the sparkly collar and the ruffled sleeves. It’s yellow. That colour hasn’t been in since the Jays won the World Series. I’m rewarding my outfit choice of smart, black, high-waisted pants and a teal turtleneck with chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate. But that’s for later. Now, I shoot you smileglares with my eyes and smilesmiles with my lips. “So…” I say, breathing in your smell, “if the boys are at the hockey game, what does that mean we should get up to?” I immediately regret it. All of it. You have that sparkle in your eye that you used to get when we were kids. “I think we should go out on the town. I think we should go dancing!” You think dancing means smoking. I know you do. “I quit.” I say. “You quit dancing?” You sip your scotch. “No…” I laugh, because you got pizza sauce on your dress and you’ll most certainly have to change.

“should be the soundtrack” by Julia on her couch


Sunday December 29, 2013
12:33am
5 minutes
www.songza.com

Audrey had on her black flowy skirt
said she was in the mood for dancing
held a flower up to her face
went well with her complexion
put it in her side bun
made sure to spritz it with hairspray to keep it there
waited for Simon to get off work
had a bottle of sauvignon blanc chilling in the ice bucket
she didn’t know if she’d get to the dancing
she was hopeful he would notice what she was wearing
and then take her somewhere fancy just so it didn’t go to waste
the music was playing
she blasted the songs she wanted to move to
had the dial in her hand just so she’d be ready when it called her
couldn’t do a single other thing but wait
and groove
and slide her head from side to side with a puckered smile
Simon didn’t call
probably wouldn’t call anyway
her flower was the cutest thing she had worn in weeks
wasn’t feeling sexy before
wasn’t feeling like the effort would even matter
tonight she woke from a nap and a dream
it saved her a little bit
it showed her the sweetness that she had forgotten
she was doing this for her
she was doing this for Simon
she was.

“Directly above and below” by Julia at the Eaton Centre


Friday, December 28, 2012 at the Eaton Centre
4:43pm
5 minutes
Rookie Year Book One
Edited by Tavi Gevinson


Somewhere above me, a sky sings. It’s the Lord’s prayer. The Lord of prayers that I don’t believe in anymore. It still sings. It sings for other people, not for me. I asked it to stop but you can’t control the whole world. It’s not as easy as it sounds. Someone else asks for it, and thy will be done, etc. etc. I’m just another number to them. The church, the people who pray, the believing ones. I’m the number 666 to most of them because they don’t see my logic or my rational. They like to pretend that I’m still a number worth saving. Worth turning into something holy, like 3, or 333, or some multiple of the aforementioned numbers that keeps me in the good books.
The good book is something I’d like to avoid if I can…
It kept me from nightmares when I was 6 (interesting) because I’d put it under my pillow to warn the underworld that I was armed and I wasn’t kidding. It kept me from ending up with a guy who would have ruined me when I was 16 (6 again. Curious.). And it kept me from falling off the edge when I was only hoping to land feet first when I was 18 (nobody’s perfect). Somewhere below me, a man in a red suit dances around, laughing, at every inappropriate thing I’ve ever said or done, and he’s taking credit for it as if it were his idea or initiative. The sky above me sings, the man below me dances. What song does he hear, I wonder sometimes. The one that plays from my youth, or the one that I’ve crafted since then?

“One way I teach” by Julia at Saving Gigi


Friday, October 12, 2012 at Saving Gigi
4:50pm
5 minutes
Daring Greatly
Brené Brown


Dancing is a way of life. That was what my grade 12 English teacher said, and god knows she never danced a day in her life. She was a giant woman. Four hundred pounds, and sadly, counting. She had a gap in between her front teeth and she was incredibly beautiful. She had a way of making people feel great and bad at the same time. I still can’t figure out what the intention of combining those two feelings would be, but she was a master at it. She knew she was overweight. I mean, how could she not. She was as big as the entire classroom when she was sitting down. I dare say she taught us mostly from the chair at her desk in the front. Which is fine. Not one person in the class made fun of her. Not one. And maybe that was because we knew it wouldn’t hurt her. She was brave. She was strong. And she wasn’t stupid. We didn’t have to prove anything in her class. The only thing she wanted was for us to come outside of our comfort zone, and be bold. She preached about dancing, and singing, and blindly painting words of truth on the walls of our bedrooms. I wanted to be bold. I wanted to be bigger than she was. Bigger than a spirit that filled not only a classroom, but our minds.