“The girl looking like Catherine Deneuve” by Julia at her desk

Tuesday December 4, 2018
9:33pm
5 minutes
Fall Is the Last Season of the Year
Nasim Marashi

I don’t want to say she had a pouty mouth but I guess that’s what she had.
Made it look like she was always trying to seduce her Cheetos.
Somebody in London once said that she was so beautiful some man
harassed her at the grocery store and she had to stop shopping alone.
All because of her face. I know a woman that beautiful and she once told
me that she never wanted that kind of attention. She never asked for it.
So the woman in London–even her friends talk about her perfect
face when she’s not around. They forget what else she’s good at, or which
jokes she’s told. They all wish they could be her. And she’s there wishing
she didn’t have to be. But no one would understand if she threw back a drink
one night and told everyone that she was tired of being beautiful. They would
all pause dramatically and stare at her, drinks in mid lift, until she broke out into
hysterical laughter. She’d see that she wasn’t getting through and remember
that beauty is not the right kind of sadness to have.

“object of concentration” by Sasha at her desk

Friday, March 2, 2018
5:37pm
5 minutes
Ashtanga Yoga Primer
Baba Hari Dass

I keep telling Don that I don’t want anything to do with him but he will not leave me alone and this gives me no choice but to raise a glass tonight, at our Christmas party. Don, you psychotic mutherfucker, I almost admire only your tenacity and persistence. Almost. I almost wish I had your ability to completely ignore all signs, all cues, all “no’s” in pursuit of what I want. Almost. Ladies and gentlemen, actually – NO. Just the gentlemen in the room, because all of the women, even Helena who just turned eighty-two and is still working the switchboard, all of the women know that Don is a scumbag. Has he groped you by the coffee machine? Maybe invited you out to dinner and you thought that other people would be there, but nope, it’s just the two’s of you. Don, don’t look so shocked… you had to know that this was coming? The uprising? The reckoning?

“Rivers till I reach you” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Thursday August 3, 2017
11:16pm
5 minutes
Rivers and Roads
The Head and the Heart


Rebecca starts walking to work in April and she feels like a real winner. Frankie gives her the once over and she rolls her eyes. “Come on, you like it,” he whispers. She doesn’t. She cocks her head to one side and says, “I will not let you take away my endorphins, Frank. Please go away.” He sneers. She never thought much of that word, but it’s the only one appropriate for Frank.

Rebecca thinks about reporting him to Diane in HR, but she’s worried about the backlash. Malinda once said something to Diane, and Diane laughed in her face. Doesn’t help that Diane is married to Frankie’s twin brother. She knows that he’s a creep, but he’s family. Nepotism is a carbon monoxide, Rebecca thinks, as she watches Frankie re-fill his coffee cup for the third time.

“pitched as writing like a man” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Friday November 7, 2014
3:01pm
5 minutes
from Howlround.com

Margot: Tell them what happened. Tell them every thing that you have on that scumbag. I don’t give a fuck about the backlash, it’s what you need to do. I’ve seen too many of these cases and the women get screwed over. He was your Captain, right? Yeah. Typical. Okay… Walk me through it. I’m recording. November seventh. Kendra Foundry. This is our fifth meeting.
Kendra shifts in her seat. She starts to speak, but looks at the floor.
Kendra: It was late. I’d just gotten off shift. It was so hot and we had to wear this canvas… I was sweating so much I couldn’t stay hydrated so I took off my jacket. I was just in a T-shirt, but nothing low cut, you know, nothing revealing. He came up behind me and cupped my breasts. He’d never done anything that out-right before, it had all been more passive. There were people around! I was shocked… I told him to fuck off.

“Pumpkins are awesome,” by Sasha on her couch


Friday October 31, 2014
6:52pm
5 minutes
from an e-mail

I was dancing. I was doing my own thing. My friends were somewhere else and I was owning the dance floor. Solo. A guy came up behind me and pulled my hips to his groin. I turned around and said, “No thank you!” and danced away. A guy came up behind me and pulled my hips to his groin. I turned around and said, “Please fuck off!” A different face. Same hands. Same aggression. I left the dance floor and on the way to the bathroom I felt a sob choke in my throat. I wasn’t entirely sure why but I knew it had something to do with me feeling like I couldn’t just dance, alone, without being grabbed. Outside the bathroom door and guy said to me, “You’re fucking hot. How many drinks would I need to buy you to suck my dick?” I burst into tears. Right there. Big ones, not little, sweet, cute ones. He made a few grunts and walked away. I went into a bathroom stall, sat on the floor, and kept crying. A woman in the stall beside me, “Are you okay? You’re probably just too drunk, babe!” I wasn’t. I wasn’t drunk at all.

“The realist canon” by Sasha on the 99 Bus


Thursday October 23, 2014
1:32pm
5 minutes
Realisms of Redress
Natalie Alvarez


She tells me that she knew there was something thick in that autumn air before he even asked her to stay late. She tells me that she could feel his eyes on her ass and her breasts, eyelashes to nipples to curve to skin. She tells me that she stayed late because she thought it might be about the deadline, the recent fire, the recent hire, or that she’d been sick last week. “Three days,” she said, twisting her ponytail. “Three whole days.” She tells me that when she went into his office, his tie was off and his shirt was unbuttoned. “Just past the collarbone.” She tells me that she felt that pit in her stomach sinking further into the earth, a Grand Canyon, an ocean, a Ground Zero.