“Calls of guilty thrown at me” by Julia at her desk

Monday November 27, 2017
9:24pm
5 minutes
Cherry Wine
Hozier

If it weren’t for the husk of corn left in the sink
the distinct sting between us: barbed wire, fenceless,
I wouled have decided to stay.
Instead I left and gave you the buzzing shell
still hot from the guilt of not saying goodbye.
You didn’t know the absence well enough.
You knew the actor, she was brilliant.
On nights like Tuesday and 6pm
the space hung in the kitchen is never
big enough for the both of us.
On nights like these you mmm
too easily at the kiss of me.
You always start speaking right
in the middle
of my hand trying to write you.

“In my head” by Sasha on her couch

Saturday November 25, 2017
8:32pm
5 minutes
Overheard on the 99

Ripped and tunneled by sadness in a new adult way I know heartbreak smells like pennies and tastes like burning. I pull on cut offs and a tank top and walk to the restaurant where I work. It’s home. It’s too public for right now but it’s safe. It’s okay. I pour ceasars and dish eggs benedict and flirt a bit and feel a little bit better. I ride my bike home and cry and cry and cry and cry. Tomorrow I’ll do it all again and the only difference will be that you’ll come in and order a veggie sandwich and I’ll stop feeling so sad and the tunnels will fill with light. You’ll make a joke and it’s a bad one but I’ll love it. The world clouds and clears all at once.

“I see our history” by Sasha on her balcony


Wednesday August 2, 2017
11:33pm
5 minutes
One Nation, Indivisible in The Sun, August 2017

The moon is orange and my heart breaks
I see my future self and my present self
and it isn’t all what I imagined
A heavy push on a chest
fireflies circle the grief of the
wasteland wasteland wasteland

Fires are raging and the kids
next door play with their boogie boards
on the ash grass
Laughing and screaming and singing
and I watch them from my perch

What will the future be for them
Grey sky
Burn
Chest
Burn
What will the future be for them

“It’s all my fault.” by Julia at Platform 7 Cafe


Wednesday, February 24, 2016 at Platform 7 Cafe
3:19pm
5 minutes
from an e-mail

I have asked for clarification for the last time from Robbie. He is toxic and hearing his explanations of why he’d prefer to be with Patricia over me has stung for the very last time. I used to need to hear it from his mouth. I’d say, Let me hear it from your two lips, Robbie, tell me exactly why you need her. I want to hear the truth about the tiny heartshaped birthmark next to her left eye that has “cast a fucking spell on you. His earnestness is poisonous and it gets into my veins deep where it can torment me long after I’ve turned off for the night. Gets in my dreams. I thought knowing the words, hearing his reasoning would put this whole thing to bed. I thought it would give me closure or at least act as a critiquing sounding board. I wanted an excuse to get better. I think I also wanted an excuse to blame myself. I am good at taking on Robbie’s shit. I am so good at it I’ve carved out a special place in my life where I store all his stupid behavior and his shitty treatment of me. I take it off the shelves of my heart when I need a reminder that I’m so deeply human when it comes to him—or maybe because of him.

“Rathburn Rd.” by Julia at her desk


Thursday April 23, 2015
12:44am
5 minutes
from a street sign

When I approached his body laying there in the middle of the street, I felt an overwhelming sense of dread–as if it were my little brother or my own baby, lifeless, helpless, quiet. Ever since I was a kid I’ve had a problem with overreacting to roadkill. I love all animals, I hate seeing any of them injured or dirty or unhappy. Seeing them dead is pretty hard for me. Even when it’s a skunk or a squirrel. Most people don’t care about those animals because they’re a nuisance. I don’t see them as that. I see them as these almost human beings trapped in a world of insensitivity. So I was walking up to this poor thing and it wasn’t moving. I’m glad I didn’t see the moment of impact. Really glad. But as I got closer I started full on weeping there, right in the middle of Rathburn Rd. Sobbing for a dead pigeon, and wishing there was someone I could call for him.

“this is the best place” by Julia on her bed


Wednesday February 4, 2015
10:29pm
5 minutes
castingworkbook.com

Shying away from the old heartache song
I don’t take too well to that kind of thing anymore
It hurts a bit in places that I didn’t know I had
So I let that tune play on elsewhere
I don’t tell it to stop cause I know it has to keep going
But I send it some peace so it knows It’s not personal
When I meet grace again, I’ll hum it softly
Maybe I’ll mouth the words
That’s when I’ll be able to have it quietly on repeat in the background
Underscoring my day to day
My dishes in the sink
My clothes on the line
My what ifs, if onlys
My midnight snack of whiskey and war

“Sunset and the city” by Sasha on her couch


Monday October 20, 2014
8:11am
5 minutes
The front cover of a notebook

Aw yeah, I was totally “catfish-ed”, man… I mean, I don’t wanna like, over share or anything, but I totally had my heartbroken. I met this woman online, like three years ago and we talked every night on the MSN Messenger. She said she was in Burnaby, but we worked opposite shifts. She worked at a hospital and I work in a factory so, like, we couldn’t really easily, like meet up, you know? And everyone says, “You were stupid about it,” and I wasn’t, I mean, I felt something for this person. I felt more for her than I felt for my ex of ten years… That’s not even a lie. And, so was Asian right, Chinese and she sent me a picture, like, there wasn’t even a photo on her profile, it was just her words that really got me, and she sent me a picture and I was totally like “Holy shit,” because she was a knockout. And we’d have these five hour conversations, I’d stay up all night, and I was, I was falling in love with her. And then I showed her picture to my friend Tony and Tony is Chinese too and he was like, she looks familiar. And I was like, oh shit! Maybe you know her or something… Turns out the picture was of a pretty famous Chinese actress. You ever heard of Li Bingbing? Yeah…

“do something which both parties desire but are unwilling to do” by Sasha on her couch


Tuesday September 2, 2014
9:46pm
5 minutes
from the English translation of mamihlapinatapai

I woke from a dream that was worse than the ones that I used to have
When nightmares reeked heavy
And my mother was sleepless for a whole year too
You were there
With the two of them
The women you desire
The women who desire you
The women you would be with if you hadn’t chosen me
Am I the only one that has that list?
The women you would be with if you hadn’t chosen me
Should I be ashamed of it?
Should I store it under the mattress
Or
In the drawer by the stove that only I open
Or
Buried in the sand for another woman to find when the tide goes out
Or
Comes in
My stomach in my throat
My throat in my mouth
Tears and gulps
and
Salt water
You’re not home yet
You’re on the bus
I imagine you
Travelling closer to me
The one you’ve chosen
I imagine you
curling against my naked body
I imagine you
I imagine them
I see myself
floating above
Laughing like a crow
Sobbing like a beluga
Your key in the lock

“Last Goodbye” by Sasha in the Kiva


Wednesday December 18, 2013
6:29pm
5 minutes
from the Charles Bradley record

When I get to your house, I stop, my feet drowning in slush. I don’t feel worthy of the curb, of the elevation. I see you through the window. You’re holding your son. He must be three now. He has your hair, your curls. I imagine he has your eyes, too, and your nose. He has her mouth, though, at least that’s what I see, when I close my eyes. You raise your boy up, high in the air and he laughs, you laugh. My heart drops and hits the slush. I catch it and put it back where it belongs, or where it used to be. I’m not sure where it will go next. Your Christmas tree looks right out of The Nutcracker, all lights and ribbons and silver and gold. It’s bigger than my apartment. I walk closer and closer and closer, sinking into the snow. When I get to the window I push my face up against the glass. I cross my eyes. You see me and your face pales. You put down your son and whisper something in his ear.

“Like sands in my feet” by Julia on her couch


Monday, August 5, 2013
11:34pm
5 minutes
In My Shoe
Tee’k Aminu


That’s the memory of you, right there. See it? It’s on my mantle kind of and it needs to be dusted. I saw it needed a cleaning last winter but I was like, whatever about you, and at the time I didn’t care. Now I’m like, oh shit, there’s a butt ton of cobwebs and like, false details on it. So I’ve decided to clean it, I just don’t know when cause I’m so busy and annoyed by the stupid and intrusive memory of you. It’s not in a frame, you can remove frames. It’s not in a box so it’s hidden. It’s just where my mind put you. And it’s also why I can’t go to the beach without crying. You would be alright with me putting other memories around it, right? Wrong. You’re very possessive with my brain space and that’s so typical of you I can’t even stand it. So like, whatever about you still, and don’t forget that I’m great at lying and I will just pretend like you’re not there. OITMOFY…Operation Ignore The Memory of You commences now.