Saturday December 17, 2016
from the BOOKS section of NOW magazine
I hadn’t thought about them since New Years…as if I had released them with the magic of a fresh start. I don’t remember whose idea it was to each write a list of all our personal tragedies this year and then accept them somehow before lighting them up and letting them burn. To be fair (and maybe a little post-reflective) we were using the term loosely. Nothing was too small but everything seemed so big to not include it. I remember losing myself this year being on the list. It was traumatic because it kept happening. It kept happening in smaller places than a Walmart super store or a Costco. But when I found the list again and reread what I was calling my tragedies, I realized I had luckily lumped some truly graceful ones in there as well.
Monday, April 20, 2015
from the Cultch Season Announcement
Mallory was listening to Sarah Harmer on repeat. She had this one song on the go that she just couldn’t stop playing. She may have had it on her New Year’s playlist for 2009 and it may have reminded her of her first love, Sean, though he probably didn’t even know who Sarah Harmer was. Sean was only slightly taller than Mallory and for the first time in her life she didn’t care that he wasn’t over 6 feet. She would have accepted anything about Sean because he had this cute way of swaying back and forth to a hidden track in his head. He was goofy and he was sweet, and he respected women because he had 4 sisters. He also moved away when things got real for them. Not just once, but twice. Mallory thought he’d come back just like the first time, but he didn’t. He wanted a simpler life. Not one that required breaking one’s heart open again and again.
Monday March 23, 2015 at Holy Oak Cafe
Overheard at Higher Grounds
Oh I can’t be seen with you. I can’t be seen with you. I told you not to wear that damn New Years shirt. I must have said it a thousand billion times. And now the only explanation for you wearing it tonight when it matters more than you’ll ever fully grasp, is that God is testing me. But do you know what the downside is? I don’t give a flying fuck if I fail God’s stupid little test because I don’t need his rewards. That’s right. I don’t need anything from someone who is going to dangle opportunities for success right in my face and then snatch them away with one touch of the world’s most hideous shirt. And he puts it on my boyfriend. To test and torture. I swear to you it would be better if you wore zero shirts to this fucking wedding than the God-awful, God-testing one you’re wearing right now. Please stand the fuck away from me. Just go over to the other side of the room where the haunting and painful pattern of your God-damn stupid fucking shirt can’t be seen or heard.
Tuesday February 24, 2015
Don’t want to give you any false raised hope, but there will be a surprise tonight that is going to blow your mind. I promised Angela I wouldn’t say what was going down, but it’s your freaking birthday, dude, it’s not like you don’t expect some wicked cool event to happen in your complete and perfect honour. I pinky swore your girlfriend that I would keep all details of this extravagant celebratory secret to myself. But I thought about it, and I was like, dude needs to know what to wear, you know, how is he supposed to dress himself without a dress code! What is this, New Years? No. Not even close. That phrase doesn’t really work here, cause I actually stole it from my ex-boyfriend who used to say it all the time, and the way he did it was so funny, so I was trying to be funny. Anyway, he also hated surprises. Or, no, he hated when surprises got ruined. And, yeah, the reaction to the “SURPRISE!!!!!” Is really only as good as the secret kept, but I still maintain that you would be happier walking into your favourite place, with all your favourite people, knowing that it was happening, so you could fill your face with honest gratitude and appreciation. You’re welcome, dude!
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
The New School for Drama brochure
I caught a glimpse of you
Between this year and last
Between dusk and dawn
Between the second hand and next number
You still had lips that seemed honey brushed
Cheeks dotted with wind kisses
You still had bad teeth from a hockey accident
Left without repair
As you are
The morning after
The night before
I caught a glimpse of you
Getting off the streetcar
My breath caught in my mouth like a truffle
It stopped me from calling your name
Thursday December 5, 2013 at Sambuca Grill
a Smirnoff ad on the streetcar
She left them by the side of the road. Said she didn’t need them any more at all. Said she never needed them to begin with but was trying to be nice. No more politeness, she was thinking, or saying. She couldn’t tell which thoughts were internal or external. She hoped, for her sake, that everything was external. She was making a point to live out loud anyway. Her back arched against the white wicker chair and she yawned with her tongue out like a lion. If anyone asked, she thought, I’ll say I was robbed. She shook her head furiously. There is no need for lying now. Anything she did could be justified with a flippant “so what?”. She was training her mind to let herself go. It was harder than she thought. She was 6 or 7 New Year’s resolutions into the same attempt. She had been holding tightly to the remnants of her former self. It was hard to say goodbye to her when she looked so good in skinny jeans.