“you now take a pose” by Julia at Saving Gigi


Friday, March 15, 2013 at Saving Gigi
2:35pm
5 minutes
Beet Salad
Bryan Demore


Course you want to fly away and visit your ancestors. Trust me babe, I get it. Everyone needs to get away sometime. They all say…ahem…we all say we need to leave this city and just go find ourselves. Why would we say that if we didn’t need it, truly. You know? But you leaving for a whole year, backpack or no backpack…is it the best idea? Will you actually be visiting your ancestors? Or will you just fly to the neighbouring country with a bunch of young hostel-stayers from Australia and take photos of you all wearing head wraps and smoking from a hookah pipe? None of which would be bad, by the way, but if we could all just be honest about what we expect out of these trips…or what the purpose is, you know, then it might just be a bit better. I mean, here, I wouldn’t say I’m going to France to visit the art. That would be maybe like, I don’t know, 2 percent of my entire trip. The rest would be shopping, and touring, and have I fully connected with myself?
Babe, no, I’m on your side. I’m not saying you can’t also find yourself while shopping, but just, hey, let’s be a bit real. And like, if we’re being real, then maybe we can assess if we really need to be gone for a whole freaking year. By we I mean you. Yes.I know this has nothing to do with me. This trip. It doesn’t.

“you now take a pose” by Sasha at The Good Neighbour


Friday, March 15, 2013 at The Good Neighbour
2:11pm
5 minutes
Beet Salad
Bryan Demore


You carry a small hardcover notebook in your back pocket. Your jeans are faded around the outline of it. Most people think that it’s a wallet, or a cellphone. I am the only one that knows the truth. You keep your pencil in the inside pocket of your jacket, navy green plaid. It’s mechanical, the anti-thesis of you, but it’s efficiency is a constant inspiration. Sometimes you smell like last night’s whiskey, and sometimes you smell like bathwater with epsom salts, and usually you smell like shaving cream and Orange Pekoe tea. I want nothing more than to steal your small hardcover notebook out of your pocket, and take your dreams, your ink, your lines and your sketches. I’ll build something with them, I promise you that. I’ll build something you couldn’t even think of. It will be strange and towering and most likely held together with fishing wire.