“Art making as a playful, life-supporting activity” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Tuesday August 20, 2019
7:31am
5 minutes
Quote by Joseph Zinker

I get in there and put the words on the page
At least I do that now
and then and tomorrow
I let it go and see where it takes me
I follow it
I listen
I catch the tail of inspiration
sometimes clumsy
sometimes sticky fingered
sometimes grasping
I throw it up to the Gods and see what rain comes down
see the colour of the water
see the flow of the rhythm

Fall fall fall free

These are noble things I think really
these are noble things

I count them on my fingers and toes
lying naked beside the truth
beside the moon

I count these noble things
noble truths
I hold them as I hold
you as I hold me as I
let go

“a multitude of mouths” by Julia on the Blue Line

Friday September 14, 2018
8:52pm
5 minutes
SWITCH/CHASE
Ben Rawluk

Got me dripping drooling thinking about the next mouth of yours I’ll kiss
Morning mouth afternoon mouth or after that. The one that tastes the most like you
I could sip it lick the flavour trick myself into saving it won’t forget it when I’ve savoured it and morning afternoon goodnight goodnight goodnight.
Got me craving itch-mouthed waiting for the mouth you make me want you with
The one that sucks the cold from my lips the one that steals the beat from the mix make the room fall silent
Make the flies on the wall get violent
Give me the mouth you need mine for
Give me the mouth you swish my name in.

“Light becomes me.” by Julia at the desk

Sunday August 26, 2018
9:46pm
5 minutes
Here Be Monsters
Lisa Foad
I have friends sending me long distance healing. I am blessed beyond reason.
When I remember this love I am lift. I become light.
Earlier my lover told me he loves looking at my eyes naked. As if he could see me better without mascara. I used to look at other women who didn’t need makeup with reverence. How much love they had for themselves, how nice their eyes were naturally.
I wanted to believe him better. Let him love me the way he loves me.
I am sad at how radical leaving the house without filling in my eyebrows has become for me.
Why when I am this loved from across the world. Why when I am this bright and grateful and open? Why do I question the quality of my light? Why do I sit and wait for someone else to tell me that they see it. Feel it. Notice it.
If I believe I am light then light will become me. It will be the best accessory. The sweetest outfit. It will bathe me in its glow. And I won’t need to line my eyes in purple paint to draw attention.

“Professional photography” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Sunday, March 27, 2016
10:11pm
5 minutes
From a flyer

Holly grips her Minolta like an infant and looks at me, checking the light on my face, squinting her eyes. I’ve never done this before and I feel sick with nerves.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Holly asks. Her Australian accent still catches me off guard.

“Yes, I guess I am,” I say, looking at my feet. My toenails need trimming.

“You aren’t going to get my feet in the shot, are you?” I scratch my thigh and then my balls. It’s a nervous habit. Holly catches me and then laughs.

“Good!” She says, snapping a series of photographs. “I’m glad you’re relaxing.”

“It is such a relief” by Sasha in the bath


Wednesday October 7, 2015
9:56pm
5 minutes
Wit
Margaret Edson


It is such a relief that Joe and Kelly are out for the night and I have the place to myself. I’m too old to live with roommates. I’m too old, and too quiet, and too grouchy. I eat a slice of Kelly’s havarti and don’t even feel bad about it. I’m feeling ballsy. I’m feeling free. “I’m gonna take off all my clothes and be naked on the couch!” I say out loud. I wait for someone to object, but no one’s there so no one does. I take off my jeans, and my flannel shirt. I take off my underwear from Zellers, when Zellers was still in business. I take off my bra. I leave on my socks, because our floors are cold. I jump up and down a few times and then go into the living room and sprawl out. I smile. God, I feel so good.

“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.

“performing like ‘bungling idiots’ ” by Julia at Creperie Du Monde


Wednesday January 7, 2015 at Creperie Du Monde
5:18pm
5 minutes
The Times
Wednesday January 7, 2015


take off the mask
take it off, leave it there on the table
leave it there where I can see it
leave it there so I can see you
you look scared underneath it all
underneath the thing you were wearing
wasn’t it uncomfortable?
wasn’t it suffocating?
but you needed it to perform the magic tricks and the lying dance
you needed it to put on the show, to give you courage to see it through
I understand the whole thing
I understand your motivation
audience, lights, camera, inaction
you don’t want to show me your real skin
you don’t want me to reach out and touch you in case it feels too real
I want to know what you look like
I want to know what your naked emotions do to you when you can’t control them

“It’s almost like cheating.” By Julia in the Poet’s Room


Thursday September 11, 2014
12:15am
5 minutes
from an interview with Emma Healey in papirmasse

You don’t know who’s watching in a place like this
In an open space surrounded by people who seemingly don’t care one way or another
You can never be sure
You can never really know if you’re interesting enough to just one person
Or if your actions can go unnoticed
And your lips go unread
You might wear a smile just in case
You might bite your thumb nail in an attempt to look pensive
You might be completely naked
Loneliness written right across your forehead like a stamp
Extreme longing dripping from the nape of your neck as you pass your hand through your hair
Someone might see those things
And how beautiful you’d be if in those instances of unedited sadness
Having someone catch your soul in the air when you think no one’s looking
Those seconds of hiding behind nothing at all

“We can help you” by Julia on Nicole’s couch


Sunday August 31, 2014
11:29pm
5 minutes
a TD bank envelope

We want you to feel at home, so take the robe, take it all! Make some eggs, make them all! Don’t feel like you can’t walk around freely. Walk around naked! We do it! We love it. You’re our guest, so please understand how genuine we’re being about keeping you comfortable. It’s our mission. We’re so genuine about comfort it hurts. It does! You need undergarments? We have those! Go through our drawers! You need any creams or lotions? All yours. If you’re feeling peckish there is a jar of gefilte fish in the fridge that we’ve all been poking at so have at it! We can help you shed your cloak of armour and guarded nature. We can help you love who you are because we love who you are! Wanna pick your nose? Go get that gold! Wanna read our diaries? Please do! Wanna nose bleed on all our white sheets? DON’T FUCKING DO THAT. BLOOD IS REALLY HARD TO GET OUT OF THOSE SHEETS. Anything else? Anything else at all? Go ahead! We want you to! We want you to open yourself up and get out of your own way. Judgement free. This is a judgement free zone!

“marvellous night” by Julia on her couch


Saturday March 22, 2014
3:09pm
5 minutes
Moondance
Van Morrison


sitting naked on my bed until it gets too cold to care
writing naked on my bed until the sweat drips from the back of my knees and forms a puddle in my art
the pencil is sharp and i’m not holding back
not this time
not any part of me
the page is naked on my bed until it gets too insecure to stay that way
the story is naked on my bed until it gets cloaked in truth and turns into one of those truth-wearing high society women who roll around in money and make grand entrances
the pencil is sharpened and i’m not erasing a thing
not this time
not any part of me
it’s hot now
it’s cool
it breezes
it wafts
it’s only easy when i give myself fully to the sword
and even holding such a weapon
it’s still the most peaceful thing i can touch

“32 “_____” get this party started” by Sasha at the CSI Coffee Pub


Wednesday November 6, 2013
10:20am
5 minutes
Crossword from NOW Magazine
October 31-November 6, 2013


They’re clapping. They’re stomping. They’ve drunk enough to no longer be self-conscious. They’re too young to know less. To know better. Someone might take off their shirt soon, and then another and before you can say, “Oh my God!” everyone is half naked and sweating and moving. When she wakes up it’s morning. There’s drool on her pillow. There’s a track and field guy beside her, his freckles catching the sun. She holds her head. She sits up. She steps over five people, passed out on the floor. She makes her way to the bathroom just in time. She throws up. There’s a knock at the door, “Hurry up! I gotta piss!” She opens the cabinet and is thankful when there’s mouthwash there. She swishes and spits. She opens the door. She smiles.

“a woman’s body” by Julia on her couch


Wednesday October 16, 2013
12:09am
5 minutes
Alive Magazine
October 2013


i didn’t want to ask you
what you thought about my body
i didn’t want to know if
you preferred red heads to blondes to brunettes to whatever it is that i have
i didn’t want to ask any questions
none at all
none that would lead me to want you more
or hate you more because i want you more
i didn’t secretly need to hear
anything from your mouth
that indicated you thought i was beautiful
even if it was only a little bit
even if it was only sometimes
i’d rather stay out all night trying
to catch butterflies
in the perfect moment where
they realize they can fly
i didn’t want yo ask you
i didn’t want to know
what you thought needed improvement
or judgement
or more make up, just around the eyes, though
it seems i would be unhappy with
any one of the possible
outcomes
the ones where i melt in front of you
the ones where i desperately search
for a blanket to cover myself up
the ones where i forget to breathe
in case you’re watching my stomach
or my chest
or my mouth

“He wants me out.” By Julia on her bed


Friday, August 30, 2013
1:38am
5 minutes
A Lie of The Mind
Sam Shepard


He wants me out
Told me so over slices of cantaloupe and prosciutto
After we made love for the first time in weeks
After we discovered that there is never a good enough excuse
And I agree with him
There is nothing perfect between us, just electric, which is different, and we’ve learned to understand what that means
Electricity doesn’t equate love, or happiness
He wants me out
Made it very clear that he was serious
That he wasn’t willing to put his naked self on the line for me or for us “just to see”
That he wasn’t ready to let me in

“disentangle yourself from your selfish self” by Sasha on her couch


Monday, March 25, 2013
12:39am
5 minutes
If
Rumi


I don’t care about the across-the-way neighbour seeing my bare breasts, or my naked round belly, or even a faint shadow of pubic hair. I want the blinds open in the morning. Since my hair started to turn grey, since I stopped dying it a colour that it never truly was, I care a whole lot less about what other people think. It’s taken forty eight years. As a young one, I would wrap a towel tightly around me and change my clothes in the Fitness Centre bathroom. I only chose that Centre because it had private shower stalls. It mattered more than the fact I had to drive thirty minutes and there was a much nicer gym a few blocks away. Those were my priorities. When Marta, my lover, looks at the wrinkles on my cheeks, she says, in that glorious Dutch accent, “Your wisdom!” She strokes the creases like she might do to a baby’s dimples,

“catch fire” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Wednesday, December 12, 2012
12:20am
5 minutes
An ad in the subway

There was a great fear. There was a growing tidal wave, a waking mountaintop tip, there was a very huge fear. Sometimes, when she found herself in enclosed spaces (the subway, a tunnel connecting one underground place to another, a cave) she would try to reach out and touch the top, in order to see how far she could go upwards, if need be.

This morning, waiting for the subway (Main Street to Kipling) she had a sudden fear, a great fear, a growing tidal wave, a waking mountaintop tip that she might catch fire. She began to breathe more deeply, she tried her tricks taught to her by a medicine man she used to trust. But the fear kept growing. She stripped off her parka, sure that down feathers catch most easily and threw it down onto the tracks. The people around her snickered and stared. She wore a polyester sweater, a choice she couldn’t believe a short hour ago she thought to be a good one, a red one, even, this polyester red sweater. She quickly pulled it over her head and threw it, too, onto the tracks. She wished, momentarily, that she hadn’t worn pants that were unflattering without a shirt to hide the love-handles.