“is your weapon” by Julia at her desk

Saturday November 7, 2015
5 minutes
from the back cover of Watchdogs

Is your weapon silence or is it force?
I’m asking cause I need to know.
I’m taking a survey.
Which one works better for you?
Are you using it at all?
Are you using your weapon for good or for evil?
You can decide what it is, at any point.
I’d recommend earlier than later.
But what do I know.
I’m just taking a survey.
Is your weapon strength or is it pain?
I’m asking cause I need to know.
I’m looking for the best answer.
Which one keeps the monsters at bay and which one keeps the good out?
It’s possible to keep the good out.
Some weapons only hurt ourselves.
Some weapons only become available after we need them.
You can decide when you’ll use it.
I’d recommend now or never.
But what do I know.

“FEAST” by Julia in her backyard

Monday, July 1, 2013
5 minutes
Nigella Lawson

I cut my tongue on a green-flavoured sucker. I don’t know what kind of green it was, it wasn’t sour apple, I know that. But it was green the way red things taste just red. Like cherry, yeah, or strawberry, fine, but usually the red ones of anything taste best and that’s simply just because they’re red. I spent all of last week eating suckers and coke-bottle candies while laying in bed and reading East of Eden from cover to cover. I think my body needed kale, and I was so far away from kale that I just kept having the green ones. Of the candies when the coke-bottles ran out. I never had patience to suck on those damn things for long. They always beckoned to me, wanted me to chew them. So I did. I just chomped down on it till it all got stuck to the crevices of all my molars on the right side. I always get cavities in the same place, but whatever, green is green is green is green. That’s a saying I started saying. Cause of all the sugar and all the Steinbeck. You just start talking in clever quotes when you’ve read about the evils of humanity for days on end.

“Was it good or was it evil?” by Julia on her couch

Sunday March 2, 2013
5 minutes
East Of Eden

I didn’t know I had it in me to turn a blind eye to someone in need until I did it without thinking and never looked back. I always considered myself a good person. A generous person. Kind, even. I don’t know what gave me that idea. Perhaps I was slow to lose my temper, or because I was bullied in primary school. Maybe because I didn’t have the voice attached to my anger when I was young, and I would have said some nasty things if my tongue were free then and unabashed. I know now that I am not a nice person. I like the people I like. I love the people I love. But I don’t care one way or the other about someone who isn’t in the room. I don’t miss anyone. Not even my mother. I don’t even think about her to be honest. I don’t think about anyone. If a small child were on the street, wandering around with tears in their eyes because they had lost a mitten and their hands were freezing, I would probably stop, certainly, but only to first look around to see if anyone else was also stopping. I wouldn’t remain there long. Only long enough to make sure that I could go on my way without feeling guilty. That’s not quite nice, is it? It’s not quite good. It’s the opposite. I thought I used to be good. But quiet and good are not the same thing. Shy and good do not quite equate. Just because someone doesn’t open their mouth to scream profanities doesn’t mean they don’t think them over and over and over again.