“You are a joke cookie” by Julia on her couch

Sunday November 5, 2017
11:44pm
5 minutes
From the postcard from Amanda

I never meant to run this dry. This many days in a row without even attempting to find the joy behind the keys. And I never understood the power of peripheral vision until now. How have I always been such a tentative typer with this new feature? I am crumbling cookie dry like an over baked chicken over baked chick and I never meant to be. I never meant to fall apart. I have been avoiding some truths to myself and spilling the beans to him.  During the full moon I tell him that I feel like I’m being wasted. He tells me he’s sorry. I have been avoiding. Didn’t want the back ache, the carpal tunnel, the magical erase button. Didn’t want the proof of purchase. So dry the cookie forgets to laugh at itself. So dry the cookie thinks about milk for the first time in years. So dry the cookie asks for help. So dry the cookie tells a joke. Nobody laughs. I never meant to fall apart.

“telling about the poem” by Julia at Peterborough Inns & Suites

Friday October 27, 2017

5:03am

I Was Reading A Poem

David Rutschman

I tell them about my hurt orange

the bad peel and the good one

How my thumb bruised innocent meat and over and over

How every pressed part cried out for someone to make it stop

Hunger has a funny way of bringing out the kill

And the spectator

And the sport

I tell them about my poor hurt orange

The rough edges and the ever soft

How my nail ripped open the creases

without apology

How the juice begged not to be spilled over carpets busy like these

How the skin deflated anyway

“he can sound like the rain” by Julia on her apartment’s lawn


Friday May 26, 2017
10:46pm
5 minutes
Mr. Brown Can Moo! Can You?
Dr. Seuss


there wasn’t any rain but I swear that I heard it
he’s been known to sound like thunder storm;
like flood
I’ve learned to expect his water
but not all learning is love

on days when he is clear skies,
and sunglasses,
and still,
I believe him to be the calm before
and the calm before
is never
calm at all,
is it

“All winter we went on like that” by Julia at her desk


Saturday May 6, 2017
6:30pm
5 minutes
After Birth
Elisa Albert


It was a tough one with all the rain seeping into all my dry
I think it’s safe to say that something was trying to be planted
Something needed care enough to sprout

I used to dread cleaning my apartment when the grey outside made the inside feel dirty
Today I swept up a spider and saluted to her as she crawled away and into a safe place
The light painted my home in a newness that I’ve been waiting for
Everything on the shelves, a choice, a decision, an opinion
Spring has signed the contract, says she can take it from here
I cannot wish for something better than feeling home in the home I live in
I give thanks for the cupboards that hold every envelope, every light bulb

“Can’t wait to share” by Julia in her bed


Sunday January 8, 2016
10:28pm
5 minutes
from a card

Brought home some new ideas baby
Got those Hot Off The Presses-Can’t Wait To Share Ems and they’re burning a hole in my pockets
The walls are streaked too
See they’re so big baby
Can’t contain them in the realm of what if cause they’re so real and so hard to ignore
We can test some out tonight
Don’t have to wait until tomorrow
Cause I can’t wait until tomorrow
Love is one of them but my oh my that’s not even the surprise
Can’t wait to-
Thinking I shouldn’t have to-
Love is in all of them baby
All the ideas about bigger better brightest baby
You can feel it already can’t you?
You can feel it in the floor boards bouncing off each spiderweb
Until
Boing
There
The running in one spot
stops

“Door To Hell” by Julia on her couch


Tuesday, August 30, 2016
7:31am
5 minutes
aplus.com

it starts with a whisper with a promise to be better
when you don’t really mean it and you don’t really want to
commit to process
it’s opened then
when you say anything that doesn’t sound like truth and when you think
everybody only hears sincerity when you are wrong but don’t
want to believe that yet
a little crack further
and you keep far away from it because it’s calling you
it knows you by face and you pretend it’s a different you a different you with
the same name
coincidence
that each day a little bit less is tried
a little bit less is wagered
and the pit beyond grace is surrounded by old flames that
you ran from because you didn’t have the courage
to snuff them out
it starts with a whisper with the song of wandering souls
you fall each day
further off the track you triumph over
unfairly

“it would be like not listening at all” by Julia at Starbucks


Friday July 8, 2016 at Starbucks
6:49am
5 minutes
When I Am King, Dilly Dilly
Don Cummer


I wake up everyday already loving you, you’re at, let’s say 20%. You know, like a server at a restaurant: I go in and I give you the benefit of the doubt, I start you at a 20% tip and if you mess up by being rude, I knock a couple percent off. I have no ill intentions, I don’t go to a restaurant expecting to be disappointed. I expect kindness. I expect good food. I expect thoughtfulness. And I expect, sometimes more than I should, a freebie of some sort. And then because I’ve eaten out at other restaurants before, I compare this service to that service to this service to that service, and I know when I’m not being treated right. I also know because I was a server once too, and it’s not hard to remember what was involved in a customer experience job. I wake up everyday at the top of my love for you. And then you forget to buy the garbage can again, or print off the movie tickets, or you bring home the light mayonnaise even though I specifically asked you NOT to get the light mayonnaise, for reasons that don’t need to be stated here. I’d say you’re lucky if you’re getting a base tip of 15% by lunch time.

“first on our list” by Julia on her couch


Saturday April 30, 2016
11:17am
5 minutes
from the PTC newsletter

Hello everyone, welcome, thank you for joining us. We’re so happy you could be here to share in our special day. Neuromica and I have been so supported in the decision to unify since the first turn of the old moon’s last embrace. We sincerely welcome you into our space and into our family, to witness this one true love the two of us have for each other. Thank you for your accountability to us, and with even more gratitude, our accountability to you. We appreciate the community in this union as one that holds us higher than we could possibly get standing on the shoulders of each other alone. First on our list of more specific and directed thanks is the beautiful and warm and all encompassing universe: you are simply radiant this fine afternoon at this 5 star resort in Costa Rica.

“I’m flexible” by Julia at her dining table


Friday April 29, 2016
3:41pm
5 minutes
from an e-mail

bend me pretzel and salt me temptation
I want dinner for breakfast
I want all the rules broken for me
I am magic and missing you
if given the opportunity
I would tell you that
you’ve been gone for 516 days
I am counting each one
not a single night falls
without me wishing you weren’t
find the flavour of my cheek with your tongue
lap me animal, gentle wolf
greet me at the door’s hinge
tongue eager
and qualified

“How did you recognize him?” by Julia at her dining table


Thursay April 21, 2016
6:18pm
5 minutes
overheard in the car

I wrote a poem about your laugh when I was 17 and in love with you. I compared it to Santa. I didn’t know anything about you, or love, or poetry then. Maybe I still don’t. I felt proud reading it in front of my class and thinking of you secretly as I shared some of my truest, most ridiculous metaphors about you. I told them about your laugh, about how you were so inclusive and even laughed at people’s bad jokes to make them feel good. I remember thinking you were generous. And I think I was right because a few months later I found out that you were trading kisses with other girls and going out with whichever ones you thought you would be able to sleep with. Maybe I was the generous one for sharing you! I was crushed. I could pull you off of a busy street with my eyes closed if I could hear your laugh. These days I don’t hear it as much as I used to. We don’t live in the same place. We live worlds away.

“She said my mistakes made her feel confused” by Julia on her couch


Sunday February 14, 2016
6:24pm
5 minutes
Dear Mr. You
Mary-Louise Parker


I braid my hair long down my back and I glance down to see which flower I want to put in. I let the blooms speak without forcing them to make themselves available to me. I feel the sun peaking out of the clouds just to watch what I do, see what I choose, why. Little purple one, I think. I don’t want to make the wrong decision. Marissa doesn’t like it when I choose wrong. She yells, stomps her feet, says I didn’t teach her anything and her whole life is a joke. I hate to think of angering Marissa or showing her that I haven’t been paying attention. I’m trying. I really am. I feel like she has her minions looking out on all corners of this place to see that I’m doing what I am supposed to. She’s blackmailed the trees, she’s sleeping with the whole sky it seems. Nobody crosses her. Everybody fears her. I listen to my belly, rumbling on luck near empty. Little purple one, woven into the base of my braid. I do not question myself in this moment. I hear wind chimes in the distance congratulating my bravery. Last time Marissa saw me right after a big decision, she scanned my whole body up and down looking for where exactly she might have failed me.

“I feel so dirty.” by Sasha on her couch


Wednesday October 28, 2015
8:30pm
5 minutes
A Thin Green Mist
Robert Shaw


She wakes
Her hands wet
Saliva? she wonders
She falls back
Sleep
The ledge
She wakes
Her hands stuck
Touching herself again?
No she’s gooey
She’s spinning webs again
She’d hoped that it ended when
the leaves changed
when the days got short
when the dark got long
She sleeps
Maybe this time it’ll be different
Maybe this time it’ll change
She wakes
A web the size of the rug in the living room
Hand spun
Hand woven
A web
“Don’t open the door!” she calls
Not wanting you to get caught
Feeling sweaty
Feeling damp
Feeling dirty

“I would like to invite you” by Julia at o5 Tea Bar


Friday October 9, 2015 at o5 Tea Bar
2:20pm
5 minutes
from an e-mail

Hi, how are you? Good? I’m good. I would like to invite you to something. An event. An important engagement. Not an engagement between two people who have agreed to get married. Not an agreed engagement. But one between two people and guess who those two people are? Me? And you? Yes. Both of us are invited to this engagement. Not that I want the two of us to be engaged, as in agreeing to marry. Not that I don’t, for the future, or for the possible future. But the two of us, are both invited to the something I am inviting you to and we will have alone time to discuss whatever we’d like, if you were concerned at all about what the allowances would be, and yes, if you so preferred, could discuss the topic of marriage or the topic of agreeing to marry someone, sometime, in some form or another. How are you? Good? I’m good. I’m very good. So I would like to invite you to a top secret meeting. It’s not in a top secret location, in fact, it’s a very obvious one. I don’t want to say it here because I prefer facts to metaphors, but it’s somewhere less factual and more feeling-based. I don’t know if you prefer facts to metaphors as well, but that is one of the reasons why I am inviting you to this one so you may be able to see for yourself if you do, in fact, have an opinion about it one way or another.

“a work in progress” by Julia on the futon


Monday September 21, 2015
11:33pm
5 minutes
from a dramaturge’s notes

I stare into the mirror, I am naked.
Paint me.
I hear myself say.
I am naked.
Am I ashamed?
Paint me.
Do I need clothes?
Paint me something good.
I hear myself whisper to myself.
I want layers of art. Not fabric.
Paint my heart, thumping.
And I do.
Paint my lungs singing.
And I do.
Paint my mind growing.
Paint my skin softening.
Paint my posture straightening.
Paint my arms strengthening.
Paint my smile more genuine.
Paint my eyes brightening.
Paint my worries lessening.
Paint my self-consciousness subsiding.
Paint my risk taking.
Paint my understanding.
Paint my learning.
And I do. I do.

“that’s a dumb simile” by Julia at Souzan’s apartment


Thursday, September 3, 2015
11:32pm
5 minutes
overheard on the street

compare her to the sky and she’ll melt before your eyes
with a softness in her curl
a smile unbeknownst to her

Draw her like the sea and she’ll grow until she’s free
with a calmness in her song
wisdom there all along

Dance her like the sun and she’ll be your warmest one
with a lightness in her face
shining in the world’s embrace

Love her like the night and she’ll always hold you tight
with a mystery in her touch
radiant gold-speckled hush

“The stress that I have been carrying around with me” by Julia at Barb’s house in Vernon


Wednesday, September 2, 2015
9:40pm
5 minutes
Teach Only Love
Gerald G. Jampolsky, M.D.


Oh it’s like a sack of potatoes just weighing down my shoulders, you see? I never once thought of an image quite like that before! It’s actually thrilling to be creative in this way. Hmm. Let’s see, how else would I describe my stress? Well, I suppose I could say, if I’m really going deep here, is that it’s like a 4 year old who refuses to walk on his own and is nothing but dead weight because he’s desperate for attention or something like that. You know the way children act out when they’re not getting what they want, and they throw tantrums, and you can barely drag them around, let alone carry them? Oh dear, I’m afraid that one got a little further away from me than I was expecting. The truth is, I know a lot about these things and those memories that just sort of add up and when I let myself, they all come flooding back to the surface. I’m understanding now that all I needed to say was the refuses to walk on his own bit. The rest just seems superfluous. Either way, we were discussing what my stress feels like. It also feels like a cement block tied around my ankle right before I’ve been thrown into the water….

“She locked me in a room until I said a password” By Julia at her desk


Friday, August 7, 2015
12:03am
5 minutes
from a story on The Moth

Come on Sid, I said, face buried into the wall. I’m right here. Right beside you.
I don’t want to come out, she said.
You don’t have to, I told her. Don’t do anything you don’t want to do.
Do you hear that? She asked me. Whispering just loud enough to make out.
What do you mean?
I didn’t hear a thing.
The music. It’s beautiful..you don’t hear it?
Describe it to me, I said, leaning my head back toward her.
It’s like a snowflake, dancing, and spinning, and falling softly on a bed of rose petals.
Beautiful?
Yeah. You should hear it, Ray.
I’d like to.
You’d truly feel it, she said.
It’s okay, I told her, don’t worry about me.
It’s not something I can keep, she said.

“right on the train, first one out of here” By Julia at her desk


Thursday, August 6, 2015
12:22am
5 minutes
If Only
Fink


I heard the cry of your sorry bones
Creeping up to the surface
Poking through the earth, begging, pleading
The haunting was my lullaby
The dream a hoax fabricated by guilt and uncertainty
Far apart from you I wept
Far apart I wished it was my life that was buried instead
I learned to sleep with the white noise of your pain;
the gentle and ever-present reminder that you were gone
That my punishment for all wrongs otherwise
Was getting out of bed even after memory restored
Each day
To face your ghost

“please remove” by Julia on her bed

Monday, April 13, 2015
2:12am
5 minutes
The Blue Bottle Bag

Please remove the idea you have of me in your head. I’m asking you this because I’m desperately trying to fix myself. I don’t know how else to do it but to make sure there’s a clean slate first. I’m aware that I’m asking a lot. Maybe too much. But I wouldn’t be asking at all if I didn’t think it was worth the effort. I’ve just always had this plan for myself. This vision of who I was supposed to be. And I’ve got to admit, I haven’t been so great at upholding that vision. Completing anything that I imagined for myself, that I had set out to do. In fact, I had gotten good, great even, at being the person who doesn’t do anything at all with the intentions for being the person I am supposed to be. So. Maybe it’s more for me than for you, but, in the end it’s for you. In the end it’s for everyone. I know that sounds self-indulgent. I guess cause I have indulged so little in the things that would actually make me better, and so much in the things that don’t matter from one day to the next. I’m trying to sell my cookies here. I’m trying to lay out all my ingredients and convince you that they’re good enough to make you want to try them, buy them, and recommend them to your friends. I’m not selling them for a lot of money either. Not yet, anyway.

“twists the whip” by Julia at her desk


Friday April 3, 2015
8:17pm
5 minutes
The Zurau Aphorisms
Franz Kafka


Twists the whip
Gets it ready
Practices in the mirror
One, two, Go on three
Takes one for the team.
His own team
He’s the captain and the coach
Ready
Ready
Ready
Today’s the day
The song sings in his head
Right now is the only thing that matters
Manic energy
Checking his watch
Tick
Tick
Boom
He’s off
And running
Twists the whip
Cracks it in the air
No more practice shots
It’s real now
It’s real life
Dangerous
Destructive
But he has his weapons
He has his tools
Don’t forget to breathe
He hears his mother’s voice in his ears
Don’t forget to feel
The magic urgency fuels him
It’s exactly as he imagined
Only nothing like he hoped
Twists the whip
Gets it ready
Now he’s ready

“A woman staggered into” by Julia at her desk


Thursday April 2, 2015
1:12am
5 minutes
Focus
Daniel Goleman


A woman staggered into a room filled with people locked in their cages. She was reluctant at first but when she arrived, she decided to follow through with herself.
She glanced around at all the bars, and ropes. Sad. Sad. Helpless. Sad.
She went about her business, gliding from one side of the room to the next, opening jars of jam and tasting her fruit-dipped fingers. She made eye contact with every single one of them. What are they doing here, what do they need? Why. Why. Helpless. Why.
Her freedom made them angry. And their hurt hearts thudded loud for all to hear.
Her self-awareness and self-love made them wish they could turn off their 80% brain.
You Are Not Good Enough. You Must Let Others Win. You Are Not As Important. Don’t Bother Trying To Achieve What You Desire. Forget Your Passions. Kill Your Dreams.
The smell of her lightness was pungent to the lot of them.

“Crisis points but also the potential for major realizations” by Julia on Laura’s couch


Saturday January 3, 2015
10:11pm
5 minutes
http://www.mysticmama.com

It’s been a hard day. Even just the taste of this minty ginger honey lime tea I’m sipping makes me cry. Sweet things hurt and hurt things flash in my mind like the worst bits of an unwelcome nightmare. Can I say I’m sorry? Will it do anything? Does it help me? Does it help my hurt thing? I don’t know when the last time my world shook like this. The last time it rattled under my feet making my bones knock against themselves. You there, me here–we live in different moments, in different hopes. To be honest, I’m not even sure if we can both exist at the same time. You’re bigger than me and I’m bigger than you. It doesn’t make sense. It won’t connect like we’d have wanted.
This day…this day….

“initiates sexuality” by Sasha in the living room at Macdonell


Friday December 19, 2014
3:14pm
5 minutes
Can Love Last?
Stephen A. Mitchell


I give you my wish like a pearl
Unpolished
You reach for my hand like it’s something in the gift shop at the museum
Something precious and old and young and pink
I make you a tiny tent where you can house your disappointments
All in a row
Ordered
How you like things
You bring me a cup of kindness when I’m low
Low low low
Like the water in the Fall

“Who wrote those poems?” by Julia at Parco della Zucca


Friday October 17,2014
3:18pm
5 minutes
Advanced Italian Grammar
Marcel Danesi


I might have been dreaming them. They seemed to fill my skin to the brim causing slight tremors and excessive use of metaphors. The sky was speaking directly to me and she was nudging me, trying to give me the answers without incriminating herself. She nodded. She winked. I couldn’t get the message because I was half listening and laugh-halfing and she gave up on me before I could say Ah, yes, I get it now. Laugh-halfing happens in between sleep and awake: a backwards place where the mind cannot meet up with the body. It tries, but wires get crossed and signals get lost. Sometimes I don’t hear the sky, I hear Nina Simone instead. But the body doesn’t know how to move. Just to describe movement with colours and poems.

“And I have been in Heaven” By Julia at Piccolo & Sumblime


Tuesday October 14,2014 at Piccolo & Sublime
5:16pm
5 minutes
from a quote from Isaac Asimov

I have been to a place of permanent happiness.
I’ve seen the sun rise and fall while wearing a tutu and performing for the world; a perfect dance, to which no applause follows.
I’ve laughed until my ribs ached, till my belly quaked, till my eyes were blurry, and my face wet.
I’ve kissed a pair of incomparable lips that I want to share with everybody just so I can say I did something good for this sorry world.
I’ve tasted the sea and the earth after a night of their hot and sweaty love-making.
I’ve licked the ocean off my lips and hummed a tune under the water until my heart and the pulse of the waves traded places.
I’ve danced body on body while my youth stayed up late–just so it could pretend that nothing else in this life even mattered.

“You mustn’t lose it.” By Julia on Hugo Street


Tuesday August 12, 2014
4:49pm
5 minutes
a quote from Robin Williams

He said it matter-of-factly as he gripped his miniature hand over my closed fist. This was a gift from a tiny god and I was being entrusted with it. He made sure I was looking him in the eyes when I promised him I would keep it safe. And never give it to any one else? Of course not. And never drop it on the ground that doesn’t have carpet? Never ever. And never forget where you last put it? Not on my life. And with that he scampered off getting distracted by the grass that he in that moment just had to bend down to dig up. I watched him playing in the earth with my fist still tightly closed. The magic of this gift was fuelling me from my hands and seeping into my bones trough my troubled skin. He didn’t even say what it was. I suppose he didn’t have to. I had believed in the importance of it by virtue of his stern instructions. He didn’t make me promise not to open it until he was gone. I didn’t have to open it to know that it was ours.

“guest starring” by Julia on her couch


Thursday March 20, 2014
9:16pm
5 minutes
The opening credits of a TV show

Do you ever feel like you’re guest starring in your own life? I know that’s one of those loaded questions that make you think far more deeply about things. But I had this thought earlier this morning and I couldn’t shake it. I’m wondering if I am just passing through….
Makes me sound a bit like a ghost doesn’t it? I’m not saying I’m a ghost. Not even a little bit! Just gliding a bit above the ground of where my life is taking place. Kind of watching it from the outside with an understanding of the inside but without fully being able to get a handle on things. I feel like I’ve been paid to be present for one or two episodes of my life each day and then I’m free to do my own thing like sleep or procrastinate or complain. I’m not required to work that hard to maintain some semblance of consistency. Like the main cast does.

“Limit to your love” by Julia at her kitchen table


Monday March 3, 2014
12:33pm
5 minutes
A cover by James Blake of a song by Feist
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oOT2-OTebx0


I’m begging that there isn’t
that there never ever will be
that you’ll say when I die, that that’s it for you too now
that if you never met me you wouldn’t have made it to 40
I don’t like the idea of one day you realizing how awful I am
You accept all my things, my good things, my bad things, with such selflessness
I’m dreading “one day”
I’m dreading “sometime”
Because what I’ve learned from you by you loving me
is that love is a CHOICE
and that you could have had your pick
and that they all would have chosen you right back
People say you can’t help who you love
I disagree
I say you can help it, and you should help it
Put a couple extra smiles into the mix, a few more tonnes of laughs and understanding, a spoon or two beyond the recipe of sacrifice and open minded, full hearted, unbridled compassion
see the person in front of you with new eyes every day
look into their souls from their baby pictures and notice
that the good natured innocence is still there
that love is a choice because we make it, because we want it
Not because it falls into our lap and we just agree to keep it
It’s a garden in metaphor for a reason
The grass is only green where you water it
because that’s the true secret to love

“300 pages” by Julia on her couch


Wednesday January 8, 2014
1:24am
5 minutes
from the cover of an old notebook

wrote you a letter explaining my love
i used words and pictures so you would understand
thought i was being clear and concise
i have a habit for confusing beautiful things
it had symbols and references
metaphors and similes
song lyrics and abstract drawings
it was over 300 pages long
it was over 4 years of patience waning and devotion
it was full of perfectly crafted images to indicate my feelings
the words written slowly so you could read them with ease
and the same things kept repeating over and over
the things about forever
the things about honesty
the things about forgiveness
the things about grass watering
and moon bathing
the kind of love poets have trouble describing
mostly because they fear that words will only taint it

“We’ve been expecting you” by Julia on the Greyhound


Friday December 6, 2013
9:00am
5 minutes
a Welcome To Toronto lamp post sign

Take off your winter sadness and leave it by the door. We don’t need that here. We don’t need that here. There’s a fire to warm your hands and a Italian mama’s lasagna to warm your soul. A reminder of the good old days. Of the ones where we were carefree and moved by every heart hugging melody that crept into our ears. Come in come in. We have extra slippers for your toes and cups of hot apple cider brewing. We’ve been expecting you for some time. Wondering which snow fall would bring you back to us. Wondering which moment to put on the kettle so we’d be ready ready. There are little ones in their beds who tried to stay up late just to see you. They’ll be happy to know you got in safe. They’ve been worried about you. Trying to decide what kind of finger paintings would be most useful to you. They did a variety just in case you were hard to please. You’re not though, are you? Because you’re home.

“PERFORMANCE” by Julia on her couch


Wednesday, August 14, 2013
10:33pm
5 minutes
from a business card

one of those top tier things you hear sporting coaches say.
they tell you
EXCELLENCE
they tell you
BELIEVE
they tell you
GOLD
you hear them better when it comes from them.
From the people who see your potential in the most appealing light.
they see you
SUCCEED
they see you
WIN
they see you
PERSEVERE
and it always feels right.
it always feels like they have some crystal ball and can gauge your true capabilities.
they make you
FIGHT
they make you
DREAM
they make you
PUSH
but you’re not playing a sport.
you’re not long jumping, 200m sprinting.
you’re not competing with nations, or for a title.
you’re simply just trying to get from one day to the next so you can be
PROUD
so you can be
POSITIVE
so you can be
ALIVE

“my dog’s shitting all over your stuff” by Julia on the Greyhound


Thursday, August 8, 2013
7:27am
5 minutes
The Flying Troutmans
Miriam Toews


My dog is an asshole. I never thought I’d hear myself say that but I swear to god it’s true. I mean sure he’s young and he doesn’t know how to not be an asshole quite yet, but there are certain things he should just know. Like going to the bathroom in the designated area, which is outside, and not just all over everything as if he owns the place. He also should know that the neighbour’s dog, Emmy-Lou, is very off limits even though she seems like she may be interested because of how she looks at him when she thinks no one is watching. He should also be aware that when I want to cuddle that’s what he’s supposed to do. To love me unconditionally even though he’s tired from a long day, or not in the mood because his favourite show, Emmy-Lou, is on outside and he can’t keep his stupid eyes from popping out of his stupid head. I’m not saying Emmy-Lou is not a nice looking dog, but she could try hiding her tush every now and again.

“Allow the process to unfold” by Julia at her kitchen table


Tuesday, December 4, 2012
1:01am
5 minutes
Pisces Horoscope, from 24h
Monday December 3, 2012


Some days you sit and wait and watch the rain fall and dream of doing and sit some more and think something will happen and then never make anything happen because you’re too busy thinking that it will. Some days are like that. And some days aren’t. Some days are like today where you stand and run and jump and scream and cry a lot and laugh a lot and give your charm bracelet to a stranger and open a jar of horse radish mustard without any help and push play as opposed to pushing pause and it’s amazing. The day like today makes you better. Makes you kinder and more satisfied with your purpose. Makes you realize that everything you do will be the way it is because you chose it that way. And it will seem easy, and it will seem like it will always happen this way if it is happening now. It isn’t quite perfect, this plan, this thinking. It’s a guideline, surely. It’s a metaphor, maybe. It’s something that isn’t always ‘it’ and it keeps you from drowning because it’s an interesting thing trying to figure the whole thing out. Some days you sit and watch dust collect on your favourite books without reading them, or dirt pile up on the floor you hate cleaning. But some days. Some days, you smile bigger than the universe. And you dream in colour and black and white, and in 3D, and in animation because it feels right. And you don’t question it. And you don’t let it question you.
You just do what the day tells you to do.