“I’ll probably do it while you’re sitting on the toilet” by Julia on the toilet

Saturday February 10, 2018
12:18am
Who Says I’m Not a Romantic
Fernando Raguero

We bought new toilet paper and you used the last bit of the roll but forgot to change it and we bought new toilet paper so it would have been easy. It would have been satisfying or maybe you’re not me. It is satisfying to change the roll, out with the old, in with the new. It’s a fresh start. A roll that hasn’t yet gotten dusty or humid or damp. A roll that suggests a readiness for all. And maybe you’re not me. And I can’t expect you to wait for me to have dinner even though you invited me to have dinner. You might have meant dinner on a different night like tomorrow or Easter Sunday. I can’t expect you to buy a new garbage can if the old one is busted even if you said you’d pick it up after work. You might have meant you were going to pick up the garbage can and see if it was heavy. You might have meant pick it up and put it back down again.

Some things add up really nicely.

Some things make sense to me but not to you, maybe, because you are not me.

“And we’re looking for a few more faces” by Julia on her couch

Thursday December 14, 2017
7:23pm
5 minutes
from an e-mail

Be a seagull swimming with the ducks.

Watch as Little Buddy does not let not being a duck deter her from being with the ducks. Watch as she casually lands amidst the them, plunging, gliding, squeaking. She looks around, not hurting anyone. Not asking for anything. Then slowly she swims closer to them. She joins in, hello, hi, how are you, just another sweet duck here, hello just another regular duck like you, swimming in the pond.

Be a seagull swimming with the ducks. All out of what ifs and better nots.

Maybe we’re waiting for an unlikely friend to be made. A new way of searching for tiny fish to catch.

We’re looking for a few more faces like that. Like the ones who don’t hide theirs to fit in with the others. The ones who risk difference in a pond of same.

“I checked and it looks good.” By Sasha on her couch


Thursday March 26, 2015
5:35pm
5 minutes
From an email

“It’s okay,” you say. “I’ll be fine,” you say. “I know that you didn’t mean it,” you say.

None of us think we’re prejudiced. But we’re programmed to prefer what’s like us. But we’re taught that they are safe when they smell the same as we do, they are trustworthy if they speak our language and eat our kind of food.

I looked and it doesn’t check out. I am ashamed of the places where I am closed to difference. I am speaking this because I want to shine a light there, I want to say, “Look, I am a pretty progressive woman, but there are still moments where I am boggled by my own distaste for “difference”, where I am perplexed by my incapacity to understand!”

This is a quiet war cry from a red couch in a beautiful apartment in a towering house in the most expensive cities in the country.

“that you would go” by Julia at her kitchen table


Thursday, June 27, 2013
11:59pm
5 minutes
Choice
Udiah


If you leave, will you please take the star-shaped welcome mat from the front hallway and burn it in the yard? I always hated that thing, and I only kept it because you like that weird freaky shit that sort of makes you look like a wizard, or a Larper. You know? You just collect all these annoying little figurines and you put them in every corner of every room and like, sometimes, I’m not gonna lie, I’m worried that you’re gonna make me pray to them, or look at them when we’re getting it on. That shit is too weird for me. So take the mat, and take the lavender that you’ve pulverized and stuffed into my old pantyhose, or like two pairs at least, and whatever else you’ve armed the house with. I wonder if you’re trying to get rid of me, there’s so many fucking trinkets everywhere. I mean, I’m all for little jars with twine or whatever, but I do not need tiny satchels of a “Pixie’s promise” to haunt me in my own home after you’ve gone and cursed everything I’ve ever even touched. So. When you leave. I guess, is the thing. When, not if, because in stating all of this out loud, I’m fairly certain you’re a lawn gnome that’s come to life to try and kill me in my sleep.

“Where you’re from” by Julia at R Squared Cafe


Monday, April 29, 2013 at R Squared Cafe
11:02am
5 minutes
Caitlin’s warmup prompt

Where you’re from you don’t know anger. You don’t know I’m sorry and you don’t know Go to bed without dinner. You don’t know a songless table, Christmas Eve, or a sageless closet, bathroom, etcetera. You don’t know the leather slipper and all its rage. You don’t know perfectly folded laundry that smells like the mountains and nothing else. You don’t know lasagna for dessert, breakfast, and midnight snack. You don’t know spicy salami hanging on a string, cut thick and eaten with ciabatta before your parents come up for their morning espresso. Where you’re from you have yours. All the wounded pride that anyone else would have. All the snails collected in a mason jar that has the concord grape sticker peeled off. You have the sun telling you to stretch out. You have the moon thanking your mother for a good night. You have the rocky screen door and better windchimes than I could ever hope for. You have the silence of not knowing, the calm of preparation, and you know not the fear of panicking for no reason.

“The most powerful thing you can do” by Julia at London Hotel & Suites


Friday March 8, 2013 at London Hotel & Suites
6:49pm
5 minutes
Creative Visualization
Shakti Gawain


Change your clothes, change your mind, leave no children, leave no one behind. If you have a great idea, let’s hear it, let’s try. If you can’t answer your own questions then stop asking why.
We’ve been gathered here by a man on a mountain, preaching all kinds of truths, flowing free, Trevi fountain.
He’s been telling us which leg to put into our pants first, he has motions for the future, so many he could burst.
We all say YES. We all say yes please, then he fills our tiny heads with a thousand buzzing bees. Let them do the work inside, let them change the thinking tide, if it’s not work you like, then the rest of your life is night. Want to fly? High high high. There are no answers in the sky. Check the ocean, he swears all the cures are there. That’s his second notion; the third and fourth already prepared.
Change your clothes, change your mind, take no children, leave no one behind.
Rally all the troupes and get ready to go to battle, with a hundred hoola hoops, and all huddled just like cattle.
We all want what he tells us to want. We all need what we think we should need. A little girl in pigtails reminds us of our differences indeed.
Small and innocent. And free.