“tremendous whooshing noise” by Julia at her desk


wednesday August 9, 2017
10:35pm
5 minutes
The Enormous Crocodile
Roald Dahl


“If I can’t see you I don’t want to see anyone!”
Mitchell wept into his pillow. He talked to his Dad before bedtime.
Mitchell’s Dad wanted to do the right thing. He didn’t want to confuse him. He didn’t want to make him reliant on someone the rest of the world couldn’t see.
“You can’t leave me,” he cried, “I can’t give you away!”
Mitchell’s Dad told him he would have to let him go and help out the Angels. He didn’t want to leave either but Mitchell was getting so big. He told him he would never really leave him. He’d always be close by, watching over him.
“But how will I know that it’s you?” Mitchell squeaked.

“When there’s peace, it’s too vague” by Julia at the studio


Tuesday August 8, 2017
9:16pm
5 minutes
The Balcony
Jean Genet


Of course the peace comes in small bursts
makes you think you’re truly…happy.
It’s enough to keep you from grabbing a lover
by the throat of his jeans
or flying off the handle that was meant for, what, exactly?
Holding on? There is never enough room for
both sanities to grip tightly.
Peace, yes, and then there is sand in the bed,
and bread crumbs leading this way and that.
Quiet, not to be mistaken for calm, comes
in small bursts too.
It is the almost kiss, the almost landing.
A mosquito from the fifth dimenson
haunting you until it plants a message in your ear

“but the apricot” by Julia at her dining table/desk


Wednesday February 15, 2017
7:39pm
5 minutes
Peterson First Guide to Tress
George A. Petrides


It stung like the needles off a pine tree pricking into her left breast. She could have begged for mercy but she hadn’t felt anything in days and was afraid the pain might be better than the nothing. Jac pressed into the soft spot screaming back at her. Sympathy pains? She wondered if Leah being in the hospital was causing some pyschosomatic symtoms. I can feel you, sweet thing, I am witness, believe me. The gentle stabbing persisted, aching only due to it’s lack of sleep. Jac got up to busy her mind with something else. The pain eased suddenly, washing over her with a cool relief.
Then she noticed the apricot smudge on the window. She winced, drawing her open palm to the base of it once more.

“Does this one need closure too?!” By Julia on the 99


Sunday February 5, 2017
11:34pm
5 minutes
Overheard at Quebec and west Broadway

“Does this one need closure too?” Lara bellowed, incredulous that she was getting another phone call after just exclaiming how “done” she was. Kya snatched Lara’s phone put of her hand and jogged a few feet away, leaving one of her hands up as defense against her ever fuming friend. “Ask her if she wants a reason! Ask her!” Lara was pressing her thumbnail into her forefinger to keep her from biting off her own tongue. She wanted to feel blood.
“Tell her that she’s not welcome in this friendship anymore-tell her that and to go love herself!”
Kya shook her head emphatically from side to side and turned her back.

“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…

“We talked at length about it” by Julia at her dining room table


Friday, December 18, 2015
6:36pm
5 minutes
Dispatched To The Derwent
Malcolm Dale


Greer reaches down to pull up her knee socks that never seem to stay at the knee. She leans over in her chair disappearing under the table for a moment while Brody shifts in his spot, uneasy about a lot of things, in addition to the fact that Greer is no longer making eye-contact as he explains himself.
Greer’s stupid socks keep bunching in her shoes! That’s why they never stay up, they are being pulled down but her toes or something equally as lame! She lets out a tiny laugh.
“What? What is it?”
Brody doesn’t like unexpected bouts of laughter. He doesn’t like being the butt of anyone’s joke.
“Sorry, I, it’s nothing, really. What were you saying?”
“No, seriously, just tell me!”
“It’s actually not worth repeating, but, I’m fully listening, please continue.”
Brody starts to chew on the inside of his lower lip. He Has created a patch of bite marks, raised to the touch of the tongue, a tiny graveyard of anxious scars.

“Home of the burger” by Julia on the 9


Thursday, December 17, 2015
6:06pm
5 minutes
from the A&W sign

More often than not do I get to the point where I suddenly remember that I have to eat something before I fall down dead. It’s true. Sometimes I get so engrossed in work and I realize after 7 hours or something ridiculous that all I’ve eaten so far is a probiotic and a couple Oreos. I can’t even think straight when I do this. I start to aimlessly wander around the house from room to room with no real plan or solution. I look in every single cupboard but nothing looks appealing cause all of it looks like it requires work. It’s sad, it happens so much, but I still don’t try to avoid that. I don’t know many adults who have to write “Eat Lunch” on their to-do list just so they actually do it! When I get to the point of fainting or falling apart mentally, the only thing that calms me is envisioning biting down on a huge and messy burger, reeking of onions and dripping a rainbow sauce concoction all over the counter. I suppose I get so delirious that I dream of doing this while standing up? Over the sink? My hunger dreams don’t make sense, really.

“benefiting those in your” by Julia on her old couch


Wednesday, December 16, 2015
6:55pm
5 minutes
From a Caroline Myss card

I no happy at job
I look for other opportunities
I ask around
I talk to all the bosses
I show skills and personality
I ready for new life
New job offer benefits
I take job
I need help
I need security
Benefits no start right away
Must wait long time for starting
I wait long all day
I wait long all night
I pray fast comes the help
I pray for family
For friends
I make sure I no mess up
I make everything perfect
Old job slow
Old job not much help
No go to dentist for 2 years
No go to department store
No buy new underwear
Even when old ones have holes

“hello, you!” by Julia at her kitchen table


Tuesday, December 15, 2015
10:31pm
5 minutes
Overheard on the bus

That’s what he says to me when I call his cell while he’s at work. He doesn’t want to let anyone know that it’s me. He refuses to use my name. I get it. I don’t want anyone to know either. It’s nice anyway, like he’s happy it’s “me” when he says it like that. Like he’s relieved. He sometimes answers the phone with just a “hello” when he picks it up in the company of others. He leaves quickly enough to go into another room, pretending always that it’s work related or family related, depending who’s nearby. I clear my throat twice, quickly, and that reminds him to adjust his volume. You never know who could be listening for key words or a flirty laugh. I can’t wait to be alone with him and when his volume is lowered I tell him this. He laughs because if he doesn’t he might do something he regrets. I laugh back.
“Were you able to rent the cottage for the weekend? Boys trip?”
“I’m working on it.”
“When will you know? I want to see you…”
“Yup! Let me get back to you, hopefully it all works out, sound good?”
“I miss you..”
“Thanks, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Closed now” by Julia on her couch


Monday, December 14, 2015
11:26pm
5 minutes
From a Google search

Nobody is here to take your coat. Nobody is here at all. They all went home. Sanders said they could go early for Christmas. Sanders told them all they had to come to a unanimous decision. At first Donna didn’t want to go early because she was worried she wouldn’t have enough money to buy her son the snowboard he wanted. She cried for about 30 minutes straight until Lise and Desmond told her they’d chip in to help. They just wanted to get out of there. They were worried that Sanders would make them stay the whole night just cause he didn’t have anyone to go home to. Donna finally agreed and wouldn’t stop saying “thank you so very much. Thank you to the moon and back!”
I’m only here because I was waiting for you…

“communication and community” by Julia on her couch


Sunday, December 13, 2015
9:53pm
5 minutes
Dispersing Power
Raúl Zibechi


In the middle of the night I am shocked awake by your fist bruising my left cheekbone. You have been attacking me in your sleep since September but this is the first time it leaves a mark instantaneously.
I am livid in the moment because I am stunned and confused but I know you don’t know what you’re doing so I don’t wake you up to tell you what just happened like you want me to. In the morning you are concerned about my face and beg me to tell you what you’ve done. I say, it was an accident this time, I know it was. But you don’t believe me. I am not a good liar. You ask me to tell you what you’ve said but I don’t want to upset you so I stick to my guns and say I don’t think you said anything at all. The truth is, you’ve been calling out my name each time but I can’t bring myself to confess that you’re not just remembering your days on the battlefield. Once you yelled that I was keeping you a prisoner. Another time you told me that I didn’t deserve to live.

“your mother’s sewing machine” by Sasha outside Koerner’s Library


Thursday September 10, 2015
3:12pm
5 minutes
from Sasha’s transcriptions

two million
three hundred and
ninety six
rays of light
converge
where my mother’s hand
rests
she’s sat on a stool
that we found by the side of
the road
wood worn for sitting bones
her foot
pumping the pedal
a handful of crickets
my fall dress

“the waiting place” by Sasha on the bus


Tuesday January 6, 2015
1:56pm
5 minutes
from An Incomplete Manifesto For Growth
Bruce Mau


The mountains are back
They never left
But I forgot that
They can’t move
Like we can
They are there come hell or wild fire or high water
They are there through it all
All of it
Can you imagine?
I see them now though
Through the trees
White-tipped and relaxed
Nothing to prove
A January hymn plays
Quietly
Wanting more of me than I want to give
The sun is sinking tired
Soup waits

“Handmade Robot” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Saturday November 29, 2014
11:32pm
5 minutes
from a pamphlet

Josiah made a tuna casserole for the potluck. He wasn’t sure if Tony was going to be there, but just in case, he used cornflakes. Do you know that secret? Cornflakes add crunch. He listened to Joan Baez and he turned the lights down low and he sang along –
The night they drove old Dixie down
And all the people were laughing
The night they drove old Dixie down

When he showed up at Clarke’s, the casserole was still steamy. He had to wear an oven mitt on the subway. A little girl sitting on her father’s lap beside him plugged her nose. The father blushed and when he and Josiah looked at one another they both said, “Sorry” at the same time.

“Can you go away?” By Sasha at her kitchen table


Wednesday November 5, 2014
11:56pm
5 minutes
Overheard on Via Zamboni

I’m making small talk with a fucking Doberman, right, and like, I’m trying to look cool, but, like, probably failing. He just keeps wiggling his nose! And, like, licking his nuts! I’m like, “HELLO?! Could you just restrain yourself for two whole minutes!” I finally look up and talk to his dumb owner, this real dumb looking guy in a Blue Jays baseball hat. “How old his he?” I don’t even know why I asked that! I mean, why do I care how old this dog is? Baseball Hat looks, like, touched or something. He’s like, “Vernon is twelve.” VERNON?! Who the fuck names their dog Vernon?! I’m partial to Bud or Max or Larry. Vernon. Ha!

“Castorland Puzzle” by Sasha at her kitchen tabl


Monday October 6,2014
6:29pm
5 minutes
from the Castorland Puzzle box

Castorland Puzzle was something I never wanted to do, okay. I didn’t even know what I was getting myself into. It seemed easy enough, but I’m not even into that kind of thing. Crystal said that it would be “easy” and that I didn’t need to be nervous or anything. What the fuck, Crystal? I mean, you know that I drive myself crazy with mistakes? So, we did it. That isn’t me admitting anything. That’s me warming up. Got any hot dogs? I could really go for some grainy mustard… Look. You’re an attractive woman. You know how it goes. You know how disappointing these things can be. Am I even making any sense? Long story short, the Puzzle was the biggest failure of my career. Crystal? She left me for a chef with tattoos of fucking fish. Fish. Can you fucking believe that?

“a rebirth or maybe a leap” by Sasha on the bus


Monday September 22, 2014
6:12pm
5 minutes
from Jess’ email to her family

When we find him there, he’s shaking
But not from fear
Don’t worry
Not from fear
When we find him there, he asking
But not questions
Don’t worry
Not questions
When we find him there, he’s mumbling
But not prayers
Don’t worry
Not prayers

A text message:
We’re leaving now. Should be there by noon.
A text message:
Traffic on the 401. Won’t be there til closer to 1.
A text message:
Goddamnit. Sorry. Flat tire. Looks like we won’t arrive before 3.
A text message:
Are you okay? Haven’t gotten any response and Max is worried.

“Select your inbound journey” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Monday September 1, 2014
3:38pm
5 minutes
raileurope-world.com

He keeps clicking his tongue. You know how people do that? It’s hardly a special skill… It’s annoying, really. That’s what it is. It’s annoying. He keeps clicking his tongue and acting like it’s not a big deal to be distracting everyone. I want to shout, “You’re distracting everyone!” But I don’t want to add to it… I don’t want to make a fussy.

He keeps cracking his knuckles. You know how people do that? Drives me absolutely up the wall. And it’s not good for you. It gets air in there and that’s sure to cause arthritis and cancer and probably even dementia. I keep shooting him looks, like, “STOP THAT!” but he doesn’t seem to see them/hear me.

“the landing cure” by Julia at Hunter’s Landing


Saturday August 30, 2014 at Hunter’s Landing
2:25pm
5 minutes
Hunter’s Landing menu

Tawny lost her tooth at the supermarket and she’s really bummed about it, Kev. What are we supposed to do about the tooth fairy now? Cause she literally lost the tooth and the whole premise is that the tooth fairy takes the tooth and gives her a loonie. A loonie for a tooth, Kev, and now because she got knocked in the head by a box of Lucky Charms, she has no tooth. Some other kid probably has her bloody tooth and is making money on it right now. I mean, do we tell her the tooth fairy just has an intuition? Or do we shape her up for some good quality reality, and tell her that the tooth fairy will not be coming this time because rules are rules and she didn’t follow the protocol. I mean, this is the school of hard-knocks am I right? That girl has to learn sometime. She has to learn to be careful and not lose things of value! She has to learn to be more aggressive while looking for something that has value! She has to be more thoughtful of her surroundings and be more observant so that when one thing changes, ie, her tooth is now somewhere on the floor when minutes before the floor looked a different way, so that she can recognize when she needs to be on guard because consistency is like the thing before they have deja vu in The Matrix!

“the landing cure” by Sasha at culprit coffee


Saturday August 30, 2014
12:03pm at culprit coffee
5 minutes
Hunter’s Landing menu

the landing cure is the sure footed traveller the landing cure is the mr lazy mug full of mediocre coffee the landing cure is the rain falling on a bike seat that your bum will touch soon soon soon soon the landing cure is erykah badu on the stereo the soothing honey sounds of ba ba ba ba ba ba the landing cure is unknown undetermined unsure the landing cure is a pantry with gogi berries and homemade granola and saffron from bali that’s been brought and packed and shipped four or five different times and never used not once used the landing cure is all lower case and less abrasive than a yawn or too bright toenail polish the landing cure is a good beat and moving feet the landing cure is a phone call from a sister

“Any siblings?” by Julia at Starbucks


Wednesday, March 13, 2013 at Starbucks
5:04pm
5 minutes
Wit
Margaret Edson


She asked me, as she scribbled something into her notebook. Probably something judgmental like, “Patient does not respond well to authority.” Or “Patient refuses to give her real name because she is paranoid that the “people” are after her.” or “Patient is not very interesting as a result of all her hardship. Hmmm.” I bet they write things like that all the time. The “Hmmm” part is the one I’m most concerned about. It’s neither here nor there and I never did well with the in betweens. Or the seeing someone who is vaguely familiar on the street and being able to ignore them. I’ve always given people a second glance, a second opportunity for us to make eye-contact and have an exchange of some kind. I don’t know where this inappropriate and extreme, because I can admit it, loyalty came from. I’m fairly certain I don’t owe the girl I used to know in university, that I just saw on the street(and with whom I happened to share one or two interests/ mutual friends)a single nod or smile, let alone a hello. And yet I give her it all. I smile with my heart like I’ve just seen one of my long lost siblings for the first time in 20 years. Ohhhhhh siblings.
This bitch really knows what she’s doing.