Saturday January 28, 2017
This One Summer
Jillian and Mariko Tamaki
If he asks you what you’re up to or what your plans are, tell him you have a meeting with yourself and that you’ve got to keep it. Tell him that you need to be alone or without him or some space sometimes and do not apologize for needing it. Do not justify or bargain. If he doesn’t like it, tell him too bad. Tell him you don’t care. Tell him if he doesn’t like it, there’s the door. Tell him if he’d rather be with someone who needs only him then he should go right now and try to make a deal with the devil or something so he can find her.
If he decides the movie, or what you’re having for dinner, or the flavor of ice cream then tell him fine but tomorrow not so much. If he decides what you wear, if you’re talking too loud, when you’re allowed to talk about yourself, then tell him that it’s over.
Sunday, August 28, 2016
from a piece of feedback
They do not ask you how you’re doing. They do not wonder if you’re a good liar. They aren’t supposing anything about you except that you must have few worries in this world. They do not pour your water first before theirs. They do not bring you batches of lemonade or lavender shortbread. They don’t call you on the phone. They don’t respond to your letters. They don’t tell you when they see something that reminds them of you. They do not buy it. They never buy it. They do not tell you when you are making them feel unsafe. They do not think you are hijacking the room. They do not know how little you’re listening. They do not expect anything from you. They do not include you in their conversation. They do not ask you if you want to help. They do not ask you if you’ve been places. They do not ask you if you understand the feeling. They do not give you the chance to improve the silence. They do not thank you for your advice. They aren’t borrowing your clothes or your poetry.
Wednesday March 11, 2015
from an online acting breakdown
It was everything and nothing
She cradled his heart gently in her palm
He unraveled his entire soul at her feet
She held his sobbing head
On her lap
In the dark
He poured out his deepest secrets
To the folds of her jeans
To the softness of her thighs
She waited until he was able
He held tight to her patience like a wounded bird
Tuesday December 23, 2014
from The Telegraph
December 22, 2014
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, today I’m here to tell you about a man. He’s not a hero. He’s not a villain. He’s a man. A simple man. A man who often forgets to drink enough water. A man who shovels the driveways of everyone on his street before the sun’s even risen, before anyone knows that it’s snowed. Before you is a man that’s been dealt a tough hand, a hand that has begged more of him than our hands have begged of us. I want you to close your eyes. I want to think of yourself at twenty three. Maybe you smoked cheap cigarettes. Maybe you were in love with your first real girlfriend or boyfriend. Maybe it was the first time you didn’t get home for Christmas… I want you to think about how you dreamed then, how you felt about war, how you liked your coffee.
Monday June 30, 2014 at Second Cup
from a poster at Second Cup
I guess stop talking about the elderly as if they’re barnyard animals? I guess don’t say “that chick is just skin and bones” or “that chick shakes when she stands cause she’s just all skin and bones.” I think that’s the first step; to give all people an equal chance at existing without prejudice. I don’t know from where I sand–from where I sit–it just feels like there’s more to talk about than the people we know and especially when they’re not in the room. I was taught that once anyway. “Don’t have conversations with people who aren’t in the room.” I guess that’s about breakups or asking for things, mainly, but it could also mean that it’s better to not talk about someone who can’t defend themselves. There are other steps too-you know–if you want to change the world. First I’d say carry a quarter in your pocket everywhere you go so you can give it to someone who needs it more than you if you have the chance. Second I’d say that praying helps.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
The Art of Dramatic Writing
Patti Oliver’s face is half black and half white. She wears face paint every day and she looks like a giant ying yang with her nose as the little squiggly line. It works perfectly because her nose is a bit squiggly looking to begin with.
My mother said she was hit in the face with a baseball but I think it’s because she’s just supposed to look like a ying yang.
She doesn’t speak much. She lets her face be the centre piece and the conversation starter. My father calls her a hippy and says she’s too into “movements”. My mother says she’s brave for being so bold.
I hate to admit but I’ve never actually spoken to her. I don’t want her face to scrunch up and ruin the pretty design. The pretty sign of peace and I’m sure for her initially, equality. Her parents aren’t even interracial so she’s really just doing it on her own. I think I respect her. People don’t know what colour she even is anymore because somehow her hands are always covered.
I think it’s deliberate. My father thinks it’s lazy. He actually thinks she just doesn’t wash her body ever but obviously she does. She kind of has to. All the paint smudging on your pillow case would really be annoying to have to clean all the time. My mother says to my father, “Rich, it’s a statement, so shut up about it.”