“but what disturbed that idea” by Julia at her desk

Saturday March 14, 2020
5 minutes
The War of the Worlds
H. G. Wells

We were going to leave. Leave for a while, you know, nothing permanent, nothing too far out there, but things have changed since we said we’d do it. We told only a few people but that’s because we were trying to go off the grid in a casual, ghost-like way. If we left our current lives quietly, nobody would have any suspicions raised because there’d be no one sounding the alarm, and by the time they noticed, by the time they came looking for us we’d be far enough gone that they wouldn’t be able to interfere. Although we were worried about that slight possibility, we knew that most people cared about themselves more than what we were doing so the reality of us being persons of interest was not one we’d have to face. That being said, we were slightly concerned that Canada Post would be the first to realize that we had left. They tend to be the most aggressive about people especially when they’re trying to deliver your mail but can’t seem to do that if your mailbox is too full. That’s when they start keeping tabs on you to make sure this is, after all, your true address, and you, after all, are a true citizen.

We had rented a small cabin in a place I will no longer share, in case we can still access it. I shouldn’t have said cabin, but maybe that won’t matter either after any of this. What disturbed the idea of us going was the whistle from the morning bird; calling us, calling us, calling us.

“Take a day trip.” By Julia at her dining table

Monday August 9, 2016
5 minutes

Take a day trip
remember the road and the smell of the car and the first song playing when you start
Take a trip to a place you’ve never been and take photos
that make you cringe to do in your own neighbourhood
Sing each other your favourite lyric
record yourselves in conversation
forget that you’re recording
lay on the grass
Get a little bit dirty
Take a trip
Leave the disappointing
and ridicule
and pipe dreams
and anxiety dreams

“Income tax services” by Sasha on the Queen Streetcar going East

Sunday May 25, 2014
5 minutes
A sign on Queen St. West

The shit hit the fan when we were playing scrabble. Ben heard from his Mom on Wednesday that they wouldn’t be going up to the cabin that weekend and would we like to go. Would we like to go? Um. YES! We would. We did. We borrowed their car. We packed bags, we got on the highway before rush hour, we ate chocolate covered coffee beans so that we would stay up longer relaxing once we got there. It was going to be the best weekend of our spring, heck! Of our lives. When we arrived, there was a note on the door from the neighbour. “What neighbour?” I asked, looking around, instantly worried about the jeopardizing of my plan for porch sex and pretty constant nudity. “Burns,” Ben said, all nonchalant. “Burn?” I repeated, trying my best not to get edgy but recognizing that this might be challenging given the amount of coffee beans I ate. “Burns”, as if that’s even his name, wrote, “Problems with the sceptic tank. Call me.” Ben took out his phone. No signal. “Who’s Burns? What’s a sceptic tank?!” I was getting clinically hysterical. Ben said, “Please chill out. Go for a walk or something,” and left me there, while he went over to Burns’ place to talk toilets and water pressure.