“Art making as a playful, life-supporting activity” by Julia at her desk

Tuesday August 20, 2019
6:15pm
5 minutes
Quote by Joseph Zinker

i throw my hands into the muck
praise be i have muck to touch
and if i touch the much with my
hands then i will not need to shit
talk any of my friends or any of
the people i say i’d never be
friends with and why do i ever do
that when my life is good, really
good, do i think it’s funny or do
i think my good luck might be
running out and this might be
the end of the road, heard it
here first i am back in the muck…

i throw my brush into the muck
and paint a horrendous image
of beauty the way i see it in my
head and i don’t stop until the
whole canvas is brown and ripped
i thrust this much and that until
i am fully fledged and humbled
like i must be if i am to create art
or if i want to be alive among
humans and give art that comes
from the knowing that we are
so similar that this is an extension
of everything, that you and me
are either both clean, or both
in the muck even if it’s not the
same time

“shoved me into the bathroom” by Julia at her desk

Tuesday July 16, 2019
6:28pm
5 minutes
A Head Full OF Ghosts
Paul Tremblay

I am not going to tell you the details.
You don’t–you wouldn’t–God, stop trying
to see into me. You wouldn’t get it.
Or Me, capital M, Me. I am not what you
thought I was. I’m better, if I’m being
honest and you wouldn’t know honesty either
because you have not once told yourself
the truth. Not since we met, not since
you moved away and came back three days
later because it “wasn’t what you thought
it would be”, not since all the sadness
you went through. I’m sorry you went
through anything at to being with and all
I wanted was to be there for you so you
could talk about it but it took you 3 years
to talk about it and–I mean–I would
have gotten it. I would have gotten You.
That’s in my blood, that’s my design,
that’s who I was trying to be, and you
decided I was something else. Something
you couldn’t bear to look at because
you knew I knew what I knew about you.
I want to tell you everything and I think
that’s the straw. That’s the stupid fucking
straw. I would have let you see into me
then and I wouldn’t have thought twice
about it, but you–now that we’re–this?
I can’t even say what we are because
it hurts too damn much. Now I don’t know
how to be around you at all.

“how will you use your” by Julia on her couch

Saturday June 8, 2019
5:12pm
5 minutes
from a Women Deliver notepad

My dream is to one day wake up and remember the reason i started losing sight
In this same dream, I do not spend as much time erasing as i go, finding the
red underlines too distracting to move forward; an excuse
This dream watches me surrender more to the moment and to acknowledge the muse
fluttering in and out of my porch window instead of finding reason to avoid
getting to the end of the sentence. A monster is at the end of the sentence.
The choice/iteration.
Wouldn’t want to end it too late, and make her angry; find out what
it really wants to say.

IN this dream I would not edit every moment in my head if I’m in them. I would
choose to be IN this dream, this body, this moment.

“Fruit can wait” by Sasha in her bed


Friday December 2, 2016
11:22pm
5 minutes
From a text

I listen to music louder now
and pick pomegranate seeds out of their
cozy wombs in the morning before I
turn on my phone and see anything
outside the walls of our belonging.

I worry less about saving
what’s best for last
Because all we have is now and
even water is tarnished and breakable
and able to be colonized.

“I never used to notice this awful quiet” by Julia on her couch


Friday January 23, 2015
1:16pm
5 minutes
from a song by The Be Good Tanyas

Stings like pine needles pricked into my brain-
Where have you been?
Don’t bother me with little words.
I begged you not to leak here.
I asked you nicely not to unload real feelings near this.
And you cry cry cry.
Faucet leaky and abandoned.
Then I hear the high pitched song of the radiators. About to explode. About to change tunes forever-Where you’ve been don’t bother me. But where you are I can’t seem to wrap my head around.
Are you happy now? Are you here? I never noticed this sadness. I always saw it from a distance, bleeding into the landscape before. Now it’s mine and it’s heavy and it’s not just a blurred line off beyond the horizon. Now it’s mine and it’s loud. This crippling tender quiet.

“I never used to notice this awful quiet” by Sasha in front of the fireplace


Friday January 23, 2015
10:36pm
5 minutes
from a song by The Be Good Tanyas

Taking into account all the times I’ve lied
I make a shadow puppet collage on the wall and throw a teabag at it
It sticks
YES
I’ll peel it off in the morning
Read the leaves
A gypsy of relentless love and misunderstanding
Wild like the moon
Deep like the desert
“You’re so sensitive” you say
Like it’s a curse
Like it’s a bad thing
“No, no” you say
“That’s not what I mean”
And then
Two hours later
Two emojis in place of words
Of something I can hold on to
A heart
A hand
waving