Wednesday January 30, 2019
Richard Christian Matheson
So, it’s three days before the tournament, right. Everyone is freaking out, tensions are high. Nobody wants to lose, team is gearing up to represent ourselves as best as we can. So, we find out that fucking Brian is planning on putting his kid, Heather, in as starting catcher. Girl has caught a grand total of zero balls. Spends her time fixing her mask and trying to get up from a squat.
So all three pitchers, that’s me, Sara, and Cara, decide we’re going to meet with Brian to tell him we think he should start Christine cause she’s more experienced, and this is her last year before she moves up. It would be better for everyone. So we approach him like a flying V-determined. graceful. I’m in the front cause I’m the brave one.
Fucking Brian LOSES IT.
Friday December 21, 2018
when he tries to tell you he doesn’t want you,
maybe that’s his soul speaking about another
place that feels empty
You look like the empty because you are the closest thing to him
You and him standing in the kitchen, throwing words at available skin
But maybe he’s right
Maybe you’re the empty vase
the empty promise
the seat up on a high horse
that you don’t know how to
ride, much less get down from
He might be missing pieces but you are missing parts too:
Friday December 7, 2018
Taking Your Child to Work, When Your Job is Making Theatre in The New York Times
He looks like Rob Lowe and I want him to choose me. The way a director is supposed to choose a young actress to be his muse. I want him to choose me because he looks like Rob Lowe and his passion for theatre makes me wet just thinking about it. He could be my biggest achievement but even if I could have him I wouldn’t tell anyone. I’d keep him all to myself. And during rehearsal I’d be professional with him but tease Andy in the green room. Heating both stones. As soon as everyone goes home, we’d be going at it in the wings, breathing hot air into each other’s ears and necks. Then he’d take me home and prepare monologues for me to read to him. I’d perform for him in the living room while he sips on bourbon and looks blissfully intoxicated by the rawness of my delivery. The heartbreakingly honest portrayal.
When I wake up he’d already be gone.
Friday, April 13, 2018
I saw him first bundled up from the cold in my godmother’s arms. I didn’t like him from the start-he was too young to play with. All he did was roll from side to side and collect dribble in the pocket of his 35 neck rolls. My mother served Cynthia tea in the new dining room that she had just painted “lilac.” Cynthia was commenting on the drapes and the new walls and blah blah blah. She didn’t even bring me a necklace or a new ring this time and I had been waiting very patiently for them too. So I sat at the top of the stairs planning how I was going to kill this new baby who was responsible for zapping everybody’s brain into caring more about the freaking “lilac” walls.
Monday January 8, 2018
I told them today about my favourite word. I told them
everything I knew about play. I invited it in like a teacher did once for me. And again when I forgot. And again when I was faking it. Don’t take yourself so damn seriously. Seriously. Don’t. And we played. We danced out of our chairs into a game. We all said yes and how glorious it was. That feeling alone won me right over. I asked them to risk being seen. I invited again and again and led by example. Some of my heartstrings were tugged so hard they broke. My own panic wove a tapestry and I wore it and then when I invited guidance I got some Serenity I didn’t know how to ask for. I think there is magic in moments like these. In giving yourself over to the open chair. The possibility of freedom. The strong and wrong balls to the wall go big or go home. I played like I wasn’t afraid of a grade or an opinion. And they played back when I called.
Wednesday January 3, 2018
the woman who married a bear
Anne Haven McDonnell
Nonna used to ask me if she could style my hair after I had already finished doing it. When she was young she used to curl my mom’s into sections by wrapping it around a pencil. I told her no sometimes. But on other days I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was hurting me; yanking and twisting all the pieces wrong. I know it meant a lot to her to play with my hair. She’d sing quietly as she did, and I choked back some painful yelps so I wouldn’t interrupt her. She used to get her hair done for everything. Had one of her five daughters put her dyed blonde hair in curlers for the baptisms, communions, confirmations, weddings, funerals, barbecues, walks around the block.
Saturday October 14, 2017
Kitty tells me to say that that I’m the baby and she’s the mum. I say, I’m the baby and you’re the mum. Then she tells me to say I’m addicted to raisins! I say, do I know what addicted means already? And she tells me to just say it already. I say I’m the baby and you’re the and mum and I’m addicted to raisins. She tells me, okay now say you’re trapped in a lemon peel. And I say oh no I’m the baby and you’re the mum and I’m addicted to raisins and I’m trapped in a lemon peel. Then kitty bursts out laughing. She is laughing so hard she gives herself hiccups. She tries to give direction between giant gulps of air. I tell her to take a second and catch her breath and she tells me to hurry up and be funny. I tell her she’s being a bit bossy and she shrieks at the top of the lungs, THAT’S BECAUSE I’M THE MUM.
Tuesday November 29, 2016
I lick my finger and it tastes of a chicken bouillon cube.
I love it.
I used to eat pieces of those by themselves when I was younger. Along with anchovies from the jar, and mayonnaise.
I had no vehicle carrying condiments to my mouth.
I wasted no such time.
I always cut out the middle spoon.
I think of big pots simmering on the stove.
I believe I could stay with someone if they knew how to make something out of nothing.
If they knew about sauces and simmering.
I would marry that.
I am very extreme about bouillon cubes.
I am tethered.
Some memories stick like sugar to a strawberry.
Friday November 4, 2016
from a contest information sheet
Paulette: Yeah, that’s just the thing, you give them one high five and they’ve already saved your phone number to their contacts list and found you on Facebook! Ha ha ha, you know it’s true! You’re jus–we could be having lunch tomorrow you’re right–no we won’t! Definitely not and–okay you too. No you too, I mean it. Goodnight Jerry. Goodnight. Goodnight.
Paulette throws her cellphone into the waste bin beside her bed. She tightens the belt on her robe and pulls the flask out of her gym bag.
Thursday January 28, 2016
A Mission Kitsilano business card
It’s a secret that on the Sundays the salsa dancing starts
It’s a secret that with that comes horses and carts
It’s a secret that everyone whose no one is there
It’s a secret that those that don’t know just can’t care
It’s a secret til somebody says something out loud
And the secret’s no longer dressed in a shroud
It’s a secret to someone else tells all of Tulsa
It’s a secret that on Sundays we will dance the salsa
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
The Art of Pantomime
I don’t have none of that. None of that stuff to be proud of. None of that dainty fingernail shit. I’m not dainty! I never was! I just pretended for the first part of my life cause it made my mama happy. She’d tell me all the time to just keep my head up and smile. I didn’t feel like smiling! All I wanted to do was run around and play and scratch the boys and make them weep with mud pie tears. I’m mad about it now. A little. Cause mama never knew what I was up to or why I liked to be outside so much. Maybe I didn’t need a reason at all to do anything but it felt like I did cause she never seemed to understand. I’d always have friends with perfect cuticles and friends with the types of soft skin that never required makeup. I never seemed to be as put together….still ain’t! Still don’t care for manicures and mascara. But still sometimes wish on very special holidays that I had some sort of practical kitchen skill..that I could entertain guests like my mama did. She never liked reading unless it was the back of a recipe card, or a bank invoice.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Hey there Anna, ho there Anna! Hi there–
Okay, Ol, I get it. We all get it.
Just being polite, Anna!
I know you are, Ol, but no right now, please, it’s been a rough day.
Wanna talk about it, Anna?
No, Ol, not at all.
I’m here if you need me, wanna chat my ear off or if you’re looking for a small, yet effective back rub then I’m your guy.
Thanks, Ol. Maybe later.
Is it work, Anna?
Yes and no, Ol.
Something or someone?
I’m said I don’t really want to talk about it. What are you hungry for tonight?
Chicken fingers and French fries!
Again, Ol? You had that yesterday and the day before. Why don’t you try something new tonight. It’ll be fun.
I will if you tell me what’s bothering you, Anna. I will make you a deal and seal it with a handshake.
I’ll think about it.
Thursday, April 11, 2013 at The Common on Bloor
By Julia Pileggi
Jumping time is any time! That’s what Mommy says! Mommy says so many things that I can’t even REMEMBER THEM ALL!! Ahhhhhhhhhhh! Mommy jumps. She wears her bathing suit in the winter time and then runs around in the snow because it’s FUN. I don’t have one with two pieces yet. Mommy says it’s not right for me. I tell her I want to run in the snow with my robe on! Pink and ripped but pink and perfect! Mommy says, do whatever your little heart desires. It desires cotton candy most days. Or CAMPFIRES with ROASTED MARSHMALLOWS!!! Yessssssss!!! I like it just me and Mommy. I can tell her I will not go to bed early and she will say, okay just five more minutes! And that is a nice thing she says. She also tells me to eat my vegetables first to get them out of the way! Then REWARD TIME with a Lindt Bunny! I tell her I want a real bunny and for Christmas she says, It’s looking good, baby! Got a good lead on a new friend for you. Someone for you to play with. But at Christmas I don’t get a bunny. I get a BABY BROTHER! Mommy’s so sneaky. I say, did Daddy come home and stay home long enough to help you make him? And Mommy says, Not quite, baby. Not quite.
Monday March 4, 2013 at R Squared
Griffin. Not sure why you’re in my head today. Here we go.
Had curly hair. Dark. Looked dirty. Remembered his big teeth always big and smiley. Curly, curly hair. The first boy I had met with curls. Griffin wore green and blue wool sweaters for picture day. interacted with him? Can’t recall. His winter boots, black, Velcro. His hat, big, popply, also green and blue like his sweaters. He is a Mr. Potato head in my memory–putting clothes on him and facial expressions to help me paint him. Had a lisp. Had a lisp that didn’t bother anyone. Had a lot of G.I Joes. Always making smashing noises with his big teeth, big lips. BOOOOKERSSSHhHHHHH. Small and quiet. Griffin. Last name out the window hanging on a clothesline, flapping in the wind. Never had a last name, maybe. Never had a first one either. Griffin is the name of a furry forest animal. Like a bear. Or a squirrel. Griffin the squirrel. His big teeth always big and smiley like a squirrel. This squirrel smiles. Not all squirrels do. Friends with him only in winter. Climbing the snow hills together. Were we friends? Never know.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
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.