“Vampire bats also appear” by Julia on the 84

Tuesday October 3, 2017
6:52pm
5 minutes
Dust
Charles Pellegrino

Kinney and I are taking her boys trick or treating tomorrow night. They refused to go with Chet and I don’t blame them. He looks like Beetle Juice to me too. K thinks we should dress up as vampires or something. She doesn’t want to go as Mom for Halloween when she goes as Mom for everyday. I’ll wear your clothes and go as you, I tell her. I don’t want to be a bat. Fine, she says her eyes dead in thought, you give me your fishnets and I’ll go as you. I don’t wear those anymore, I say, but Kinney doesn’t care. She’s dreaming up a costume that has less to do with me and more to do with her enacting some fantasy of me. In her mind I’m the fun one. In her mind that means wearing fishnets. I don’t want to burst her bubble.

“the king is me” by Julia at her desk


Monday October 5, 2015
11:45pm
5 minutes
from a slam poem

I have looked through the garbage for the second time today. I have been diligent, each time, and I am thinking that soon I will need to return to it for a third time; peel through everything again, just, with no shadow of a doubt that I left some pieces un-turned, because it’s that important. I don’t know if I could forgive myself if I find out that I could have done something more. I just want to do all that now, so I can rest easy that I truly did my best. I may not be the best at it right away, but I will make sure I give it my all. When it comes to this. Life or death. Life and death. Whatever. I am the go-all-the-way-guy. Never foresaw myself sifting through garbage, but here I am, king of this heap. I’ll master something. When it’s important. That’s just me.

“Violence faces” by Julia at her desk


Sunday October 4, 2015
11:21pm
5 minutes
from a tweet from the Green Party of Canada

I am wearing a mask every day for a week leading up to Halloween to protest all the shitty costumes I have seen in my day. MANY. You were wondering? There have been MANY. I have decided to wear the mask to illustrate what Halloween is for. It is not for putting on a single headband that “resembles” antennae. That is not what it is for. It is not for putting on skeleton earrings and calling that a costume (I’m talking about you, Linda, the quintessential receptionist). It is for a million reasons, among which is raising the souls from the dead (obviously), but the most important one is for DISGUISING OUR FACES. How is that so hard? Something scary or rotting or dead or all of the above, is, quite frankly, the most preferred type, but it can vary depending on your IQ and your tax bracket.

“thank you for your hate” by Sasha on her couch


Monday October 27, 2014
11:42pm
5 minutes
from an e-mail

I’m gonna be a caterpillar for Halloween. I’m going to be a caterpillar with a fuzzy body and a million legs. My babysitter Pho is going to make my costume and she used to be a seamstress in Cambodia so it’s going to be the best costume in the parade at school. I used to think, like, last week, that I wanted to be a sunflower, but I changed my mind. “Stop changing your mind!” Pho said, while she ironed Daddy’s blouses. Oh, no. I mean, shirts. Men do not wear blouses. At least, that’s what Pho says. So I made up a contract and I told Pho to sign it and I signed it and it says that I will not change my mind about being a caterpillar.

“Stufo (agg) fed up (with)sick (of) ” by Sasha at Great Dane Coffee


Wednesday September 17, 2014 at Great Dane Coffee
1:32pm
5 minutes
Availiardi Dizionario Italiano-Inglese

You keep asking me what I wanna be for Halloween and I’m all, “It’s more than a month away! I have no idea!” And you’re all, “You should be a sexy lumberjack!” And I’m all, “What the fuck?”

Sometimes there’s nothing to say and we’re eating cereal and staring into our bowls like they are Crystal balls with all the answers.

“You should be a witch!”

Should I be offended by that, you guys??!

I’m sitting on the toilet, trying to dig my Diva Cup out of my cooch and it’s like a fucking terrible birdsong – “What do you want to be for Halloween?” Sung, by you, tone-deaf, to the tune of Nobody Solves A Problem Like Maria. I’m all, “What?!” And you’re all, “Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens! Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens! Brown paper packages tied up with strings!” And I’m all, “Are these… costume ideas?! WTF!”

“not responsible for loss, theft, damages” by Julia in the Poet’s Room


Saturday September 13, 2014
8:33am
5 minutes
A Schiaffini bus ticket

Of course we felt bad for guessing the wrong costume. Who doesn’t feel bad about that? Who doesn’t always wish at a Halloween party when asked to guess in the first place about an obscure costume or concept or poorly designed idea, that they’d just said, “I’m drawing a blank!” “I Can’t seem to put my finger on it…!'” The whole, “I’m so bad at these things” thing. We wished we’d been smart enough to fake it-quick enough to shove a devilled egg in our mouths and feign complete ignorance about the magnitude of it all. When Ry guessed an elephant, she almost started crying. She looked to me as if to salvage her image–one desperate hope in her eye so effective I couldn’t help but suggest an alternate. I said “Rhinoceros?” And I truly meant it as a question because I had no idea either and I was already surprised I was even there in the first place. Her eyes welled up-her skin flushed-and she started to wail in a way that made me regret even pushing through my mother’s birth canal 40 years ago.

“novels, poems, journals, and letters” by Sasha on her couch


Sunday November 3, 2013
12:24am
5 minutes
The Birth Of Frankenstein program
Litmus Theatre


When we first arrived in Winnipeg, it was rainy and it was Autumn and it was colder than anything we were used to. On our third night of trying to settle into our small, blue bungalow, my mother was feeding my younger sister, Beth, and I beef stew. We were grumbling about missing Edinburgh. Our father had received a contract with a chemical engineering company and, having been politely asked to leave his previous job seven months prior, we quickly uprooted for the Canadian prairie. On that fateful third night, Beth and I ceaselessly reaming out our poor mother (we would never dream of doing such a thing with Dad), there was an unassuming knock at the door. My mother, Beth and I behind her, heard an echo of “Trick or Treat!” from a chorus of ghosts, none more than five feet tall. My mother shrieked and Beth and I jumped back. The poor parents escorting their brood on a Halloween expedition had to explain to my mother what this all was. Before we knew it, Beth was in one of my mothers fancy dresses and I wore my father’s best suit. We took to the street.

“Greener than yesterday” by Sasha at Thom and Shelagh’s kitchen counter


Friday, July 5, 2013
10:03pm
5 minutes
Distance
Jeremiah T. Scott


A photograph from your website. He’s printed it in full colour. I doubt he has a printer, which means he went down to the copy centre and paid the thirty cents. Plus computer time. Unless he brought the image, your image, on a USB key and that’s… unlikely. It’s that photo of you from Halloween in third year when you were a bumblebee. You were doing the kissy face. You looked beautiful, of course. You’re not smiling, you’re looking to the right as though there’s someone there. There was probably someone there. Maybe it was Steve, your boyfriend at the time. I wonder where Steve is now. Your nipples poke through the black leotard that you’re wearing. He’s gone the whole nine years and printed the picture on card-stock, not just average Joe paper. I turn the image over and on the back is an old piece of sticky tack. It’s blue.

“Everything is all right” by Sasha at her desk


Sunday, March 17, 2013
11:30pm
5 minutes
Dharma Bums
Jack Kerouac


She smells like tangerines. You instantly love her. If you showed me that love I would keel over in laughter (and, maybe, tears), I would keel over in gratitude to God. “You smell like onions and tuna fish, Mom,” is what I get. First Grade Teacher love, okay. I get it. She smells like tangerines, she gives you yellow happy face stickers when you do well on a spelling test, she’s the one who is telling you that you’re smart, you’re creative, you’re special. “Miss Fleck says that it’s going to be an early spring!” You come home with a crepe paper flower crown on your head. “Miss Fleck says that we should give away half our Halloween candy to the Sugar Fairy!” You do, incredibly, with the self-restraint of a monk. Right down the garbage shoot. “Miss Fleck says that even though there’s that war on terror going on, everything is going to be all right!” You are smiling, one of your front teeth wobbling so much I can’t help but smile too. Miss Fleck, bright blue eyes and short cropped hair, I am glad that you are teaching my boy. Tangerines. Ha.