“Our “new” or higher brain” by Sasha on her couch

Wednesday November 21, 2018
10:56pm
5 minutes
Gentle Birth, Gentle Mothering
Sarah J. Buckley

Foggy head foggy heart foggy mouth tastes like floss and tea and tears and beeswax. At home I go through boxes of tissue and swaddle myself in flannel. At home it all flows and that’s good. It’s good when it moves, when it sways, what it somersaults, when it liquifies. Gemini Moon, grant me the strength, give me the power, show me the way. Folding my tongue over in the mouth so that all the feelings stay corked, stay in, where is it appropriate to grieve and celebrate and wail and dance? Turn the music louder til then, turn the heat up, heal in the harmony and the heat. Carve an apple into a heart.

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“The Toy Box Burlesque” by Julia on Lindsay’s couch


Monday January 9, 2016
11:32pm
5 minutes
from a show postcard

When Gia gave me some of her old costumes I was in heaven. Birdie told me not to wear them cause I would catch her diseases and become a person of “interruption”…meaning my path to the lord might get a little patchy. I told Birdie I wouldn’t wear them because all I wanted to do was study them and use them as templates for my own sewing or building. Birdie nodded her head emphatically a few times before leaving as if to convince herself that I was telling the truth. She eventually left me and I was so excited to be alone with Gia’s beaded underwear and long satiny gloves. I pulled one glove on my arm, slowly, feeling every tiny hair brush against the smoothness. I peeled it off slowly, sliding the glove down my elbow and off my wrist with a patience I didn’t even know I had. When I finally revealed my last covered finger I could feel my insides rushing to greet me.

“Hurry down the chimney tonight” by Julia at Vancouver International Airport


Saturday December 24, 2016
4:05pm
5 minutes
overheard on the radio

When we met you told me I had a sparkle in my eye that made you think we would get into some kind of trouble together. You liked that. You wanted to be bad. You said that I was vicious but you meant it in the way that suggested you couldn’t avoid it; that you saw yourself enjoying my corruptness even if you knew maybe you were too old for those kind of things. Those kind of things being powders and showers and going down on you in a public washroom. Told me you liked my sense of adventure and that it made you more adventurous. You suggested we get tattoos. You wanted something to remember me by. Something more than just an old tattered copy of Leaves Of Grass with some hearts drawn around the lines I liked. You wanted to keep me forever even after I told you I couldn’t stay. Maybe you saw that sparkle in my eye when I told you I was going-that our story ends here, and thought, maybe, just maybe, it meant that I didn’t mean it. Surely I had something else in mind other than a kiss and a long hug goodbye.