“The relevance to actual practice has been questioned” by Julia on M and N’s couch

Thursday April 4, 2019
9:06pm
5 minutes
Evidence-Based Psychotherapy Practice in College Mental Health
Stewart E. Cooper

I mean they say practice makes perfect right? Hi! I’m here to tell you that the only thing practice makes is you better at making messes. What’s the perfect thing? What’s the perfect thing I’m supposed to need anyway?

I practice not hating myself
I practice not destroying my face
I practice not jumping to conclusions
I practice deciding
I practice the ukulele
I practice patience
I practice anger
I practice not giving a fuck
I practice not stealing.
And yet.
I am still a pile of shit most days.
I am still regretting my pop and pinch and pick and pull.
I am a full blown mess and some days I know how to clean it up and some days I wish I could evaporate into thin air and live somewhere that doesn’t require a face.
I practice these five and this five and those five.
I practice telling the truth and still find myself lying.
I practice words lit by a nightlight in my bathroom.

“The relevance to actual practice has been questioned” by Sasha in her living room

Thursday April 4, 2019
10:30am
5 minutes
Evidence-Based Psychotherapy Practice in College Mental Health
Stewart E. Cooper

Practise doesn’t make perfect. Nothing makes perfect. Perfect doesn’t exist. Nothing is something spun from gold. Something is nothing spun from imagination. Sun’s peaking out and it’s okay now, baby, rest now, baby, shhhhh now, baby.

You’re sure of yourself and you’re sure of God and what more do you need, hm? What more do you really need. Fry an egg in good butter, make some toast, salt and pepper and you’re good to go. Out the door, on your way to shine bright, baby, I’ll be okay here, me and the piano music. I’ll be okay.

“Wild nights-Wild nights!” By Julia at the studio

Thursday November 30, 2017
5:00pm
5 minutes
Wild nights-Wild nights!
Emily Dickinson

A steam of longing rises up,
possesses the space my thoughts
were busy occupying.

There, in the quick silence,
are your calve muscles, flexing.
The oven is loved on by you
and your desire to feed me
I could not say no to the offer
of home made lasagna at midnight
by a man in his perfect underwear,
leaning over the counter to grate
the cheese.
And I watched you close, desperately
trying to stay asleep in this dream
come true, dabbing at a lip every
now and again to collect the drool
forming. Did I mention it was midnight?
As if being made lasagna at any other time
of day would be any less wild.

Catching me in mid breath,
transported back to your
kichen with the bechamel stained
stove top, I am a mess of memory
gooey, liquid.

“they couldn’t handle you?” by Julia on Kits beach


Friday July 28, 2017
7:10pm
5 minutes
overheard on Kits beach

You walked into your new office right, you stroked your beard, you adjusted your belt, you waved at everyone? Right? You made your presence known? You held a baby ( I don’t know, Shelley from HR can never get a sitter, okay, she’s tired, you cooed at him, it was a good moment, everybody loves a pair of stylish suspenders holding an infant) and high fived the custodian? You walked all the way over to your boss’ desk and you put your foot up on it. You let him see you, right? You look him square in the eyes and unleash the most deadpan almost too-close-to-home joke and you wait, right?
Then…boom.

“Shrimp only” by Julia at her dining table


Tuesday, March 29, 2016
2:43pm
5 minutes
from a recipe in Cowichan Bay

I could live off of shrimp only and maybe some garlic. I really could. I could live off of a lot of things that seem simple like that. I could live off of sunsets and matchsticks. I could live off of olive oil and crusty bread. I could live off of my mother’s laugh and my father’s silly singing. I could live off of silent walks to the beach and quiet crying by the ocean. I could live off of his kisses and his squeezes and his eyebrow scar and his banjo playing. I could live off of people watching and star gazing. I could live off of understanding and connecting. I could live off of summer’s heat and throwing a baseball. I could live off of burgundy pens and graph paper. I could live off of peaches and hot peppers. I could live off of magic and synchronicity. I could live off of curiosity and fresh basil. I could live off of truth-speaking and patio writing. I could live off of my belly soft and my lucid dreams. I could live off of the perfect yawn and the perfect hug.

“What? What’s wrong?” by Julia at her dining table


Monday, March 28, 2016
10:17pm
5 minutes
from some sides

You ask me what I’m not telling you for the second time because my face looks like it’s hiding something from you. I don’t know why I keep saying,

Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.

If this were a year ago you’d have stopped questioning, whether you believed me or not, assuming you believed me, assuming you didn’t care to take notice when I said something I mean or when I didn’t.
Now you won’t let up and you won’t let me wallow and you won’t let me silently hate you or me if that’s what you think I think I’m doing. I should be grateful that you notice my subtleties now, that you inquire past surface level, that you don’t let me get away with the idea of performing perfect or unbothered or both.
But I guess I am holding on to that a bit so I won’t be held accountable to explain my feelings. To name them.
The only thing I want to say right now is,

Sometimes I don’t think you really love me.

Even though that’s ludicrous. I don’t want to say that to you now because I know how untrue that statement really is. I just want to hear you say

Always.
Always.
Always.

“Safety” by Julia at her dining room table


Saturday, December 19, 2015
11:02pm
5 minutes
from the back of matches

There’s a level of discomfort that follows a perfect moment. It’s perfect until it’s not, fading into something hard to sit in. That second after the joint decision to bask in the glory of said perfect moment is made up of tiny doubts, fears, deep-swimming insecurities-or truths that we usually find more grace to disguise. I think it comes from wanting the next moment to be as good as the one before but it can only be anything close if it were the exact same moment and no two moments can be replicated no matter how badly we want them to be. So I guess it comes down to choices. Going left or right directly after the experience of tiny perfection. Does it live in us as a thing we both just know now, or does it change every moment after it by being so tightly clutched that we start to live in debt of that particular instance? Trying to pay it back forever.
I want to know…

“picked and consumed” by Julia on her couch


Sunday November 29, 2015
9:31pm
5 minutes
From the Wikipedia article on jalapeños

I love you more than I ever have
I picked you from the crowded place in my brain that tells me not to make rash decisions
I chose you from the pile of mistakes I had been sweeping to one side
I love you more than I ever have
I didn’t think I could grow to love you more but I’ve surprised myself
The way you’ve surprised me
Reminding me that people can change and that mistakes can be forgiven
And sometimes forgotten
Thank you for forgetting
Thank you for reminding me daily that I’m your favourite flavour of perfect imperfection
Sometimes I pretend I can’t hear you when you talk on the phone to your parents
And you tell them how proud you are of me
But in the other room, I am teary-eyed and feeling so damn lucky
And when you come in I act like I don’t know how sweet you are
Maybe it’s a little game
Maybe it’s self-preservation and keeping my feelings clothed so they don’t feel embarrassed
I love you more than I ever have
I picked you from the wall of beautiful artwork that hangs in my imagination

“Her face was like a spring sun halo” by Julia at Shaktea


Friday November 20,2015 at Shaktea
1:06pm
5 minutes
White Heat
M.J. McGrath


I scooped up her tiny face into my hands and I brought her close to mine so I could feel her nose and inhale her intoxicating smell. She smelled of cinnamon and felt comforting to be around. I liked that she didn’t have a sweet smell because when I thought of her defending herself against the world, it put me at ease to think that she’d be a little bit tougher, connected to her roots, fiery, quick.
She was sleeping still and I thought about leaving in that moment so I could remember her like that: peaceful, calm, perfect. I couldn’t bare the idea of her crying at the realization of my absence. I didn’t want to cause her any more pain than I already had.

“it could not establish” by Julia at Liberty Bakery


Tuesday October 27, 2015 at Liberty Bakery
3:38pm
5 minutes
the Iphone internet connection message

It served as a perfect reminder that we’re fallible. I guess you’re gonna want to know what the perfect reminder was, but it’s not time to share that information yet. All you need to know is that we need reminders that we’re fallible because we get ahead of ourselves all the time. We do. We get angry for not achieving something right away or the right way, and we beat ourselves up for not being successful. But we’re not perfect. We need to hear that on a regular basis. We need to hear it, believe it, then put it to some psychedelic music and listen to it while we’re in the shower: let it seep into our skin ike the smell of garlic trapped in our finger tips after a night of vampire avoiding, or casesar salad dressing making, or influenza preventing. We need to know it like we know our own names so when we’re called it, we don’t act like we don’t recognize it; we open the door and let it in.

“I’ll try and take it off” by Julia at Mina’s Fabric


Thursday January 29, 2015 at Minas Fabric
4:33pm
5 minutes
overheard at Mina’s Fabric

I’ll try and take it off-the layer of whatever it is I’ve been hiding behind.
I used to be such a pretty girl. Such a pretty pretty girl. And he’d sing to me from the top of the stairs, “I see you and I see you because you make it so hard not to.” And I’d feel like I belonged to something perfect on this earth even if his love didn’t last and his opinion of me changed.
I had to consciously say that out loud to the next one once–that I’d try and take it off—because he looked at me with such kind eyes, but in a confused way as if he desperately wished he could see through the wall and share a moment in my soul–just swimming around, testing the water.
I have to say it out loud so I can remind myself that sometimes it’s more for me than for anyone else: that it’s hard to see clearly just as it is to be seen clearly.
I think of that searching look he gave me when I need to stop myself from fading…

“he loved it when I forced him into seasonal costumes” by Julia on Katie’s couch in London


Friday December 12, 2014
5:36am
5 minutes
from Minnie Driver’s Instagram feed

Tonight Kip is looking perfect in his elf suit. The ears are just subtle enough and his strong body is showing through the tight striped T. I’m not one to brag, but I’ve outdone myself this time. All the ladies are swooning at this Christmas bachelorette and the feeling in the room is definitely a merry one! Part of the excitement is watching him entice other women, knowing full well I get to take him home directly after so many others have been wanting him.

Last year, a bit different, I made him be the stork at Jenna’s baby shower. He was not happy about it but he was the only one who could capture the essence of one so effortlessly. I never told him he had the easy energy of a bird but he knew he had it in him and he knew he had to share that because it was the right thing to do.

“All of it, kid.” by Julia on her bed


Saturday November 22, 2014
3:06am
5 minutes
From a first draft of a screen play

-You like Ray Charles? You like that song he pours his guts into?
-Georgia?
-Yeah, beautiful right?
-Yeah, the best.
-Everything is the best.
-Right now, yes. Let’s die like this.
-Dance for me first. Before we die happy and perfect, dance as if Ray Charles put music in your veins
-Like this?
-Mmm, yeah, like a little bird, flying high and from the inside out.
-I’m your little bird.
-I’m your biggest fan.
-Mmm.
-Let me lick you. You have no lines on your face. The smoothest skin, no lines at all.
-I’m young and I’m yours and I’m a little bird with Ray Charles blood.
-Mmm, yeah. We can die now.
-Some water first?
-Yeah, you drink then let me taste it from your lips.
-Feed you life…like little birds do…
-Yeah, you dance and feed me, little bird, little bird.

“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.

“was just perfect” by Julia at her kitchen table


Thursday May 29, 2014
10:18pm
5 minutes
shutterbean.com

baby bruised me yesterday on my right arm. i said baby, it’s okay, it’s not your fault.
i said, don’t worry baby, it doesn’t hurt. baby didn’t mean to bruise me. i wanted baby to squeeze my arm as hard as possible because i couldn’t feel it in that moment. i wasn’t sure if it was still mine. i didn’t know if it had any blood left in it to keep it alive. baby squeezed and said, tell me when it’s too much. and i said, i will, i will. baby squeezed and i closed my eyes and felt connected to my body again. baby watched my expression and kept squeezing. i just breathed and breathed as if for the first time. i said, harder, or a little harder, and baby didn’t stop. baby pressed harder, my blood barreling down my veins again like the first day of spring. barreling down into my hand, my fingertips, flooding my limb with life and revitalized juices to keep me going. baby looked down and saw there was a mark. baby said, did i hurt you, tell me. and i said, you could never hurt me. you made me better. you always make me better. that was the feeling i had. like everything was perfect.

“$1.79” by Julia at Ossington Station


Thursday, March 14, 2013
9:54pm
5 minutes
Receipt
Second Nature Natural Foods


Ha ha, she says as she scrapes the back of my teeth. This is where your soul is. I have my mouth ripped open by a girl that likes to experiment. Do you like my lips? She asks. What am I supposed to say, I can’t talk. Mmhm, I say. Mhm. She says you can touch them if you want to. Nuh Uh, I say. I don’t want to touch her at all..
You have 56 cavities, she tells me. All of them are from candy corn and licorice. I nod slightly. She’s right. How did she know that? I feel like we’ve been friends since birth.
No way..
You have cavities? I ask? Except with her hands in my mouth it sounds like, yerr ahh avaheees? She smiles.
She does. She shows me. From candy corn too, she says. From candy corn and licorice. I smile through spread lips and a bucking tongue. Good. I think. We’re the same.

“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.