“it was poetry, fireworks, ticker tape” by Sasha at Anytime Fitness

Monday January 29, 2018
7:12am
5 minutes
Bad Hand
Mallory Tarses

It was fireworks when Alma was born
It was poetry when she looked up at Judy

“Poetry” Pete says when he’s telling the story
He loves to tell the story
even now
seven years later

“It was the coldest night of the year,” says Judy
stroking Alma’s soft downy fawn hair

“How cold?” Alma asks

“Thirty six below,” says Pete
as he puts another log on the fire
and it sparks
Alma giggles
The old dog Mutt opens one eye

“Where were the fireworks?” Alma asks
She knows the answer
but that’s the quiet comfort of
childhood
asking anyway

“Right here,” says Pete
tapping on his chest
knocking on the door of his heart

“It’s bedtime now,” says Judy
and she’s right but they all hope
that maybe tonight she can stay up
just a little bit longer

Mutt farts in his sleep and
they all laugh and laugh
and laugh
plugging their noses

“Can I ask you somethin?” By Julia on her couch

Wednesday November 29, 2017
9:34pm
5 minutes
Cities of the Plain
Cormac McCarthy

The ask from the humming bird’s wing came quick like a home run
There was an ounce of dread in it
a trill that caused the clouds to quake…

We were alone and now we are not.
I could have told you better if I didn’t see your eyes peeling away at me. I wanted to tell you about something beautiful. I wanted to share it with someone I thought would hold it reverent. I could tell you now the version that would ease you. The thought I had and not the moment it made. Like a dog jumping on a trampoline and then nothing. Stopping. Not everything needs to be talked about. I don’t know how to unask you; untell you. I don’t know how to cover up this new hole and pray that no one notices it pulsing here.

“Rabies is a fatal disease” by Sasha at her desk


Friday August 18, 2017
5:39pm
5 minutes
Health Tips for Tropical Travellers

I don’t mean to rouse the masses
Or scare the babies
But rabies oh rabies it’s a fatal disease
Met you on a Friday
You wore a red bandana
You said your name was Winston
Okay I just named you Winston
And you oh yeah you
You gave me rabies
I said I want to put a leash on you
You said that’s really kinky
I said maybe you’ll run away
You gave me side eye
Ohh baby you can give me rabies
Any day
I’ve been immunized
Your bites won’t kill me
Only your brown eyes will
Only your licks will
I love you Winston

“he digs into that” by Julia at her desk


Thursday March 30, 2017
9:19pm
5 minutes
overheard at kafkas

We keep talking about getting a dog. We sometimes talk about if we ever moved it might make more sense, so we keep talking about moving. I don’t want this to happen. He does. Sometimes we talk about settling for the tiniest dog in the universe so if we can’t convince our current landlord to let us keep one, we can pretend like there is no dog, what dog? Oh that little fluffy..entity…nothing…just…tissue…?
We haven’t quite figured it out. I’m glad. He is not. But we can’t justify getting a dog when there are so many other items already on the list. First things first. Like getting a new matress, a vaccum cleaner, laundry detergent, a vaporizer, toilet paper, and bananas.

“the new thing in us” By Julia at Bean Around The World


Thursday July 28, 2016 at BATW
7:10am
5 minutes
Letters To A Young Poet
Rainer Maria Rilke


She hopped to her seat at the back of the aircraft and chuckled to herself as she heard the voice in her head refer to it as an aircraft. A craft that belongs in the air, she thought, how magical. Someone thought this thing up and then built a bunch of Popsicle stick models out of it before building the real thing.
She was anxious to get home for her brother’s surprise 30th that her whole family was apparently gathering for. He was the one who invited her to it in the first place, but they were close and couldn’t keep secrets from each other. Her brother had found an envelope in the garbage that had the details on it. She was excited to get back to her life as she knew it best for a little while. Familiar streets and faces, going strawberry picking with the family, spending quality time with her dog.

“the conscious mind” by Sasha at Platform 7


Friday March 11, 2016 at Platform 7
12:52pm
5 minutes
A quote by Janet Burroway

TRISHA: Is there someone I can call? To come and get you? … Chuck, or…? You, you can’t be here. You can’t stay here.
TRISHA motions for the woman with the guinea pig to enter one of the exam rooms down the hall. The woman warily walks past JUDITH.
JUDITH: I said, “Go pooh pooh, Charlie!” and I think I might’ve, I think I must’ve locked the door and then I went to check on those cookies that he likes, those peanut butter cookies? They were on fire! The dreams burnt. The fire alarm rang – Aaa-ooooooo! Aaa-ooooooo! He didn’t have a place to come home to! Charlie must be… he was… He must be sopping wet somewhere! I’m scared for him I really am…

“a boy like me calls his mother.” by Julia on her patio


Monday, July 20, 2015
6:19pm
5 minutes
http://www.howlround.com

I HAVE A DOG! Daddy saved a little black one from the shelter and brought him home for me TO KEEP! Mom said play nice with Joseph. Daddy thinks it’s better to call him Joseph than mom’s name, Peanut. He laughed when I picked it and looked at me with big Daddy eyes. Peanut is not the winner! I tell mom this and she storms back into the kitchen with the dish towel over her shoulder and tears in her big mommy eyes. Don’t worry about it, she likes to make things about her, Daddy tells me. She’s just mad you didn’t like her name, but guess what, Joseph didn’t like it either. Daddy goes into the kitchen after mommy. How could you, I hear her yell to him. Dammit, Karen, I hear him say back.

“Those were the worst nights” by Julia at her desk


Tuesday June 2, 2015
12:44am
5 minutes
overheard at Higher Grounds

Trains pounding through the thin night air and landing directly beside us in bed
Mosquitoes trapped between the broken screen door and the hot summer sunset
Newborn babies trying to name their pain at every single hour
Flash floods and terrible eaves
Basement apartment and a new soggy sofa bed complete with rain-water swimming pool
Wasps building nests and forever homes in our nest and forever home
Staying up late fighting over who would get the window side
Staying up late fighting over who would get Tess and who would get Jinx

Choosing what is important for her” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Friday March 27, 2015
6:42pm
5 minutes
Sasha’s notebook

She’s kept a food journal for twelve years. Mostly it’s been a secret. Only three people know. Sonja – because they spend so much time together and secrets are boring to keep for so long with someone so close; Pete (her once removed ex) – because he once caught her writing in it, when she’d thought he’d been asleep, and he asked and asked until she caved and then he made endless fun of her (via questions) and then she left him; and Jillian – because when Jillian was going through her sex change she felt it was only fair to reveal something private and strange and a bit shameful because Jillian was revealing so much so publicly and it was all she could think to reveal of herself.

She decides, one particularly rainy evening, as she sits cross-legged on her bed, her sheepdog Oscar snoring beside her, that this madness has to stop. She’s taken to recounting everything she’s eaten before bed, a kind of calming ritual, perhaps similar to putting ones legs up against the wall or praying (but entirely different). Today, she can’t remember what she’d eaten for lunch. Was it a can of tuna on baby salad greens? Was it miso soup? Was it half a cantaloupe with cottage cheese? Was it a protein shake? It was as though every day was every other day and nothing was as it should be. “Why am I doing this?” She asks aloud, Oscar waking up and cocking his head towards her, just the amount of sympathy she needs.

“Thunderbird” by Julia on Jenny and Andrea’s lawn


Monday September 29, 2014
3:41pm
5 minutes
Jess’ imagineNATIVE tote

Roaring at me, this fucking thing. I’m like Beatrice, please, I can’t focus with your teeth in my neck. That’s what it feels like, this fucking thing, screaming so close that her gums might as well be rubbing my ear drums. I could slap her away but that won’t shut her up. Not even a little bit. And I’m not a bad guy. So fucking Yip Yip Yip, but she doesn’t seem to get what I mean. Too abstract, I’m being with her. But this little Chihuahua won’t let up and I’m not in the mood cause I smoked this thing and I don’t even know what it was, but clearly I needed it. Beatrice, I’m like, Beatrice—I think you either need to take a sweet shit or get fucking laid.

“mostly tiny sungrazing comets” by Sasha at her desk


Wednesday, July 16, 2014
11:48pm
5 minutes
from the Sun Wikipedia page


When we barbecue on the porch in the rain, it reminds me of being ten on the Island. My grandmother would send my sister and I bus tickets. They’d come the week before we were set to leave. There’d be handdrawn postcard with the three of us and her husky, Farley. She’d meet us at the ferry dock, raspberries and dark chocolate in her hands. She’d kiss us on the mouth and hold us at arms length to take in each of the changes. “Nadine, you’ve got an extra freckle on your cheek!” “Odessa, you’re one eighth of an inch taller!” Farley would lick our toes as we giggled and shook our heads. She’d leave her old station wagon on the other side, and when we piled into the back there’d always be a fresh beach towel and a peach for each of us. We’d drive, windows down, Bruce Cockburn on the tape deck, until we arrived at her cottage by the sea.

“set a time, a location, and a few basic rules” by Sasha at her desk


Monday May 5, 2014
12:52pm
5 minutes
Beautiful Trouble
Edited by Andrew Boyd and Dave Oswald Mitchell


Leonardo is a really good actor. Have you seen Wolf of Wall Street? Woah. Like, woah, right? He’s a really good guy, too. I met him once, you know. Yup. I was in LA for my cousin Theodore’s wedding and I went out one morning to explore on my own. I took my parents rental car and I drove to Laurel Canyon. Have you ever been there? Holy moly, it’s nice. I was walking, you know, just, like, doing my own thing, trying not o look like too much of a tourist. A guy comes towards me, running, and he’s got a Black Lab. Did you know that Leonardo has a dog? Always a good sign when someone loves animals, I’d say. And I’m like, “I recognize that guy… How do I know that guy…” And then it hits me like lightning! Holy smokes! That Leo! So, I’m starstruck but I act cool and he’s already run by me but I just, I like, I yell, “Can I pat your dog?!” He takes off his headphones, like, fully off, he puts them around his neck, and he’s like, “Sure, go for it.” So I pat his dog and I try not to make idiotic baby voice sounds but, you know, it’s hard because that dog is really cute! And I probably carry on for a bit too long because then he says, “Come on Al,” and I’m like, “WHAT?!” And then he’s like, “Pardon?” And I’m like, “My name is Al…” And he’s like, “My dog’s name is Al…” And then we both laugh and then he keeps running. And then I’m like, left there, in the Canyon, and I’m like, laugh-crying because I can’t believe that just happened.

“Axe throwing league” by Julia on the subway going west


Sunday March 9, 2014
7:33pm
5 minutes
overheard on the 72 pape bus
_
I got there and I thought it would just be a bunch of hipsters with lumberjack beards but surprisingly there weren’t any lumberjack hipsters; only real lumberjack lumberjacks. Chris spoke with a northern Woodbridge lilt, and Mickey wanted to show me all his photos or his dog, Carrie, who he said spoke to him more when he wasn’t home. I was staring at the targets thinking “how the hell am I supposed to hit those?”. I was admittedly even scared that I would kill somebody on my first night and not be asked back, much less make it to playoffs. Deter was scoping out the newbies so he was on my back like a hot summer’s day sweat, sort of patrolling me and making sure I was never anything more than uncomfortable. I told the guys I didn’t need to throw in case there weren’t enough for everyone. Deter didn’t like that. He called me soft and told me to “look around”. Shayna was competing against Sid but she had a smile on for me. She came up to me after her win and handed me her axe.

“over the next couple of weeks” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Monday January 6, 2014
8:24pm
5 minutes
bleubirdblog.com

Over the next couple of weeks I will open a store. Inside that tiny store will be lots of treasures. Wreaths of wildflowers dried in the sun. Preserved apricots with cinnamon and honey. Dill pickles so tart your lips pucker and your eyes smile. Small glass jars filled with homemade vanilla, or lemon essence or tea tree oil. A gold plated frame, about the size of your palm, with a black and white picture of a woman in a wide-brimmed hat. A whole wall of seeds, for planting in the spring. Butternut squash, lacinato kale, romaine, golden beets, rhubarb, wild rose and petunias. Another wall of recipes, each one priced for ten cents. Each one written by hand. A whole bookcase of poetry. E.E. Cummings, Mary Oliver, Hafiz and Naomi Shihab Nye. A husky will sit near the door, but the old, cream-coloured, sighing radiator. He’ll greet everyone who enters with a bark that reminds me of my first love.

“No wonder” by Julia at The Common on Bloor


Thursday, August 29, 2013
4:05pm at The Common on Bloor
5 minutes
Film Festival Preview
NOW magazine Aug 29-Sept 4, 2013


Cabbage town, she thought. I wouldn’t mind living there. Avery was excited to tell jay about her decision to take the new position at the firm. She was reticent at first, unsure of what he’s say to moving across the city just so she could stay true to her “anti-Ttc” mentality. Now, she thought, how could he refuse. He’d see how excited I am and he wouldn’t be able to say no! He had been good about living close to Avery’s work since they started dating, and never once asked her to try riding a bike because he knew of her immense fear after being seriously injured in an MVA. He’d been good about a lot of things, she mused. About planning the unreal for Buddy in the backyard and inviting all of Buddy’s friend from the dog park, about waking up every night at 2:30 am exactly to calm her from her night terrors and rub her back slowly until she fell asleep again, and about finding a home for the abandoned ladder she rescinded from the side of the road.

“Los Angeles CA 90064” by Julia on her couch


Saturday, January 12, 2013
2:32am
5 minutes
the bag of pistachios

Funny isn’t it? This snow business? I’m just happy it’s going away, I’ll tell you a story!
When I was 3 I got buried alive in the snow when I was making a snow angel. Isn’t that cute? My neighbour’s dog kicked up snow on me and then I died! But just for a second because my older brother, Jeremy, was right there and he just uncovered me. You’d think I’d be scared of the snow after that, but nope! Not me! I’m not afraid of it, I’d just rather not be anywhere near it. Because I also have poor circulation in my feet. That’s just because it’s genetic, you understand. I haven’t thought about moving away to a warmer climate either. Ha! That was a joke. Everyday I dream about going to Los Angeles and never coming back. I want to buy a one way ticket, you know what I’m saying? I’m not trying to gain your sympathy about the snow angel story either. I mean, I exaggerated a bit here. I didn’t actually die! It’s called “dramatic story telling.” The circulation thing is true, though, boy is it ever. One man once told me to wear slippers with spikes in them to prick my feet and get the blood flowing. Spikes! Can you imagine?