“How could she comprehend what it was like” by Julia on her couch

Tuesday December 5, 2017
4:42pm
5 minutes
Super Sad True Love Story
Gary Shteyngart

The oven keeps setting off the fire alarm.
Somebody (you) spilled cheese and forgot to
clean it up. You told me it wasn’t you.
I don’t really eat cheese.
Every time we take something out of there,
even if it’s a slice of bread at 350 for
2 minutes, the smoke gets the yelling
started.
I want to tell you to clean up your mess
but I am afraid you will tell me that
there isn’t anything to clean. I hate being
right about you.

The stove keeps setting off the fire alarm.
Somebody (me) left a penne noodle underneath
the burner and refused to take it out.
I told you it wasn’t on purpose. It was.
One day I discovered that if you leave a
penne noddle close to the burner but not in
a pan, it will cook it crispy enough to eat.
Everytime we boil water the smoke gets the
screaming started.
I want to tell you to take out the battery
but I’m afraid it might be too easy to
burn the whole place down with you in it
if you do.

“Back then baby it didn’t seem so strange” by Julia


Wednesday August 16, 2017
10:33pm
5 minutes
Dearly Departed
Shakey Graves


we didn’t use to ask each other anything
shuffled through the corridor with too much heart at stake to risk
we didn’t know what we didn’t know
you thought my favorite colour was blue,might have gotten away with it too if I didn’t walk right on out
it didn’t seem strange when we assumed how each other was feeling
it didn’t seem to bother us too much that all these notebooks were half-filled
now I want to know
I don’t know about you since you don’t know what you don’t know
but I want to ask every question that rolls through mush and makes it out alive
why do you tap your feet like that
why do you forget to book that flight
why do you hate your own eyes so much
why do you lie about how cold your hands get

“I will complete them upon my return” by Julia on bec’s balcony


Monday July 17, 2017
11:06pm
5 minutes
from an email

Laura sends an email to her co-workers telling them she’s going to be away on vacation next week. Laura’s going to stay at home all
day and eat nacho bugles until
it’s dark enough to put nacho bugles on ice cream. She already has the tan lines to make it believable. Laura doesn’t want an excuse to leave her house and talk to anybody. Maybe most people would rather go to the actual beach than pile up in their living room. She wears old yesterdays of herself.

“I lied all the time” by Julia at her desk


Thursday May 11, 2017
10:04pm
5 minutes
from a quote by Louis C.K
Sunbeams of The Sun (May 2017 issue)


five years old, Nonna visits,
leaves her face creams tubed in the upstairs bathroom
curious, five years old, sneaks into the upstairs bathroom
counts the black tile, counts the white,
opens the cream, smears it on, five years old,
closes it, runs away to pretend that nothing is out of the ordinary
mother, thirty-five years old, yells at all of us
because one of us, five years old, left the tubes partially open
Nonna wants to know who would, since she wouldn’t
five years old wants to blame it on the upstairs bathroom ghost
thirty-five years old asks flame on lips for the last time,
shoots missile from eyes, no prisoners
five years old, scared, ashamed, caught, decides to lie
blames it on the upstairs bathroom ghost,
learns guilt, confesses
one hour later

“IT’S TRUE!” by Julia on her couch


Wednesday March 8, 2017
10:49pm
5 minutes
Overheard in the kitchen

I saw a heron tonight-true
I have cried today-true
I have cried fewer than three times today-lie
I wore all black today-true
I met someone new this afternoon-true
I found the ear bud cover-lie
I listened to the ocean today-true
I wiped my snot on my coat-true
I had only rational thoughts-lie
I loved myself today-true
I thought about drowning-true
I wrote this easily-lie

“Maybe we shouldn’t” by Julia on her couch


Saturday November 21, 2015
11:40pm
5 minutes
overheard at the Eastside Culture Crawl

Maybe we shouldn’t talk about the future, about how many kids you want, or how many pieces of artwork we don’t agree on. Maybe we shouldn’t.
Maybe we shouldn’t tell each other everything just in case we wake up one time in the middle of the night and realize there’s nothing left to learn. Maybe we shouldn’t.
Maybe we shouldn’t co-own anything unless that thing is a fruit and custard pull-away tart from the coffee shop on the corner where the barista is mean to you. Maybe we shouldn’t.
Maybe we shouldn’t wait for the other one to be honest about the things we’re afraid of first. Maybe there’s pain in the waiting. Maybe there’s disaster in the lie before it becomes the truth.
Maybe we shouldn’t tell our parents, when they ask what we did last night, that we didn’t leave our beds because we were too high to stand up. Maybe we shouldn’t.

“with the theme of fear” by Julia at Coco et Olive


Monday November 9, 2015 at Coco et Olive
3:23pm
5 minutes
ionmagazine.ca

I am not alone in this room
I share my bed with my former self
And all my past mistakes
I lay my head down on the same pillow as the shame that haunts me
I close my eyes and see the me I never wanted to be
The me I never thought I could be
I am not alone in this lie
Sometimes good people make bad choices
Sometimes bad choices make bad people
I watch the blame hang on every corner of every wall
I wait for it to cling to my eyelids and bind my mind forever
He said she said
She does he does
She regrets he preys
He forgets she stays
I am not alone in this guilt
I share my memories with the poor judgement that follows me
And all the wrong I’ve invited in
To stay a while
To live on inside me

“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.

“genuine liquor bottles” by Julia in her bed


Friday June 7, 2013
2:27am
5 minutes
Fall On Your Knees
Anne-Marie MacDonald


Okay so you were high when you got home, and you said som truthful shit. I know some things about you and one of them is that you cannot tell a lie when you’re flying high. You also like to rhyme and I know that shit rubbed off on me early on. You like to tell it how it is and rub me like you know I’d be dead without it. Pressing your hands into my arms and my neck so that I relax, you say, give me your whole body, and I know it means because you want to ease me, please me, tell me that the truth is out and ready to play. But because of all that and your need to say every thought that comes into your brain, when you told me I should marry you, I knew that it was true. That it was genuine. I didn’t tell you yes or no because though you can’t tell a lie, your memory recall of a stoned night’s adventure is absolute shit.

“Maps of the sea floor” by Sasha at Nova Era Bakery


Monday June 3, 2013
11:18am at Nova Era Bakery
5 minutes
National Geographic May 2013

Tell me the word you’re thinking of, that word that sits on your tongue like a pearl, that’s usually there when you wake up, that’s usually there when you’ve been quiet for awhile. Tell me that word that sits on your seafloor, below the belugas and the cuttlefish, below the hammerhead sharks and the coral reef. I’ve heard some words before, other people’s, when I gave them everything, when I devoted myself to their comfort and sleeping in the crook of their arms, in that soft place beside their shoulders. I’ve heard the word “lie”, the word “mother”, the word “thanks”. Now I’m yours. Now, I want your word, the ultimate communion, the union of this murky love.