“We try in a polite and partly exhausted way” by Julia in the fishbowl

Monday February 24, 2020
3:17pm
5 mintues
Gooseberry Marsh
Gretchen Legler

I hate everything until I don’t.
It is not the other way around.
It could be innocent till proven guilty.
But that’s not how it is given that I don’t trust anybody.
Later some people are coming over to my place and they signed their names up but I don’t know if they’re coming for them or for me and I wonder if they feel sorry for me.
I don’t trust people who feel sorry for me.
I don’t like people who think I need their stupid help.
Everybody needs help, I know this, and I am not saying I am not everybody, but you’re getting it all wrong.
You’re judging by the wrong hair.
You’re sensing some tightness.
You’re making assumptions about me because I’m being prickly and you assume it has to do with something else but you can’t quite put your finger on it.
And you’re sitting there trying to figure me out because you don’t like it.
You don’t like having someone be prickly to you for what you consider to be No Good Reason.
I guess I hate you until I don’t.
I guess I would rather you avoided me because I am sitting here avoiding you.
And I hate myself too in case you were wondering about that.
That seems like the only way to get so good at hating you.

“a petite woman in her late twenties” by Julia on her couch

Friday February 14, 2020
6:01pm
5 minutes
Confidence Woman
Stephen Henigha

I was once a petite woman in my late twenties
I was once in denial about that
thought I was as big as a house
as tall as an evergreen tree
as lion as a lion

I used to roar as loud as my hair
and you called me your lion
I believed you when you said you liked me disruptive
not polite
not the word
distracting
sometimes unaware of the volume and the location and the audience

I was once a person who ran out instead of turning in
a woman in her late twenties with a chip on her shoulder
a secret in her tears and a confession
somewhere type-written in the nook of her bedside table
I used to beg the moon to take me with her
let me watch
let me learn from her and all that silky show

I used to hate myself for lying
when I was so hungry for the truth
I used to hate anyone for lying
because I was hiding the truth
I convinced myself I was the world’s best actress
and you were the one who couldn’t tell that this was all a movie
that every word spoken was screen tested
that every song hushed was the result
of so much bloodied shame

I used to blame other people for my dark Tuesdays
or Wednesdays and wished that someone would
find a new hole to haunt

“cinnamon, cardamom and ginger” by Julia on her couch

Monday, November 26, 2018
8:44pm
5 minutes
A recipe for apple muffins

I haven’t baked anything in a long time
I’m more of an improvise, throw things together on the stove top than follow directions and use chemistry kind of person.
I do not like someone else telling me how to make something and yet I have been desperate for someone else to weigh in on my life and tell me what’s right and what I should do.
I don’t like rules and I don’t like protocol and I don’t like social courtesies. I want freedom at the cost of the Room’s comfort. Which room, any room, this room. I want to be the mess and the reward. I want to push boundaries instead of being afraid of them.
Some people call this impolite. I am very impolite. A test I took in the summer told me that. I was in the 4th percentile. 4 our of 100 people in a room would be more impolite than me. It could be a good thing. Maybe sometimes you wish you were loud and forward and rude. Maybe it could help you get a few things done.

“some of your visitors” by Julia in London Fields


Wednesday December 31, 2014
6:11pm
5 minutes
http://www.wordpress.com

Some of your visitors have been overstaying their welcome. They have still not brought you a nice bottle of wine and they somehow continue to forget to take off their shoes before going upstairs to the bedroom. What I will say to you, and you know to whom I’m referring, is that certain guests who don’t show appreciation for their hosts’ home will not be tolerated to remain visitors. Some of your visitors have contemplated stealing from you, taking your possessions hidden deep in the over-fridge cupboard when you are in the shower or out picking up items to make their breakfast. This might be a warning. I’d take it as such if I were you.