“Happy Monday Lovers” by Julia at the desk

Monday July 30, 2018
10:25pm
5 minutes
from @a_belovedgreen on Instagram

It’s raining somewhere that isn’t here.
Somewhere deep and mysterious and easy
to get to but not here because here it
is not raining. Some us of are praying
for rain, and some of us are praying at
the alter of the sun god shining, staying
up, warming our bones, illuminating all
the things we might rather go on not
seeing. And isn’t that a risk in of itself?
And yet some of us are worshiping. Some of
us really like the truth. It is a day of
reckoning when all is lit up like a beacon
of hope or desire or loud. It is a Monday
for lovers of the light and lovers of the
afternoon. I am happy loving this seminal
summer from the inside out. Hazy sky and
all, blurred lines and everything. The
colour of my new skin would tell you that.
I am out there chewing ice cubes, singing
thank you through my teeth

“She warned me, ‘Have nothing to lose.’” by Julia at her desk

Thursday April 5, 2018
8:25pm
5 minutes
Among Women
Marie Ponsot

tucked a daisy in my jacket pocket and said “this is for a rainy day”
didn’t seem to mind that it might not last that long in denim like this
i forgot it was in there and went about my day
picked up apples from the market
peeled the sweet potatoes that were growing eyes
the night became a different world
me in my own skin and bones rustling about the tiny kitchen
she, i decided, blessing newborns and the dying with her sweet
the next morning i awoke to the sun burning the sky and drawing sweat
from my neck
the pillow was wet and the seagulls were loud
I did not bring an umbrella
and of course, as it happens here, out of the blue
it started to rain
i understood what ‘out of the blue’ meant for the first time
shoved my hands in my pockets to keep dry
and there it was, waiting for me
a wilting daisy, still more alive than me

“I wouldn’t want it any other way” by Julia in the car

Friday September 22, 2017
1:08pm
5 minutes
overheard at York Mills Station

All of us are tired from the rain. Maggie suggests we kill ourselves ceremoniously and Reece flips her shit about that. Maggie stares Reece in the eyes and doesn’t stop until everyone is laughing. Reece reluctantly smirks. The problem with people these days is everyone is offended by everything, Maggie tells us. Reece shakes her head. Some people actually do want to kill themselves, she persists, and I don’t know if you know this but some people actually do. I didn’t know that at all, Maggie says with mock surprise, her favourite of all the mocked anythings. Reece rolls her eyes and opens her chest to the group. Could we all just hold each other and intuit where might be a good place to travel? None of us want to fight and so we huddle close to one another, put our hands on the backs of our neighbours and we close our eyes.

“After the Flood” by Sasha at the kitchen table

Sunday September 17, 2017
9:39pm
5 minutes
The cover of NOW Magazine

By now it’s all happened. By now your hair has dried even though the city is broken and bandaged. By now you have socks. It’s funny when people call you a name that I don’t know. It smells like seaweed and rain. Today will be known as The Day After The Flood.

When we roast marshmallows and eat the sticky bits slowly pulling them between our fingers, sixteen years from now, you’ll look at me sideways and say, “I thought you were going to drown.”

“he can sound like the rain” by Julia on her apartment’s lawn


Friday May 26, 2017
10:46pm
5 minutes
Mr. Brown Can Moo! Can You?
Dr. Seuss


there wasn’t any rain but I swear that I heard it
he’s been known to sound like thunder storm;
like flood
I’ve learned to expect his water
but not all learning is love

on days when he is clear skies,
and sunglasses,
and still,
I believe him to be the calm before
and the calm before
is never
calm at all,
is it

“This is what you’ve been waiting for” by Julia at JJ Bean


Friday May 5, 2017 at JJ Bean
5:12pm
5 minutes
The Gate
Marie Howe


my family speaks poetry through me as I walk from my house to a place that isn’t
I am stopped on the sidewalk with the urge to take notes
They are dictating faster than I can write
The stories from our childhood, inspiration enough after the drought
I am greedy with rain and the secrets of our youth
the clues to finding solace in a memory built from our old garage,
the time we picked strawberries at the farm and made milkshakes,
the time we sang to Mariah Carey on the back porch and I made everyone
turn around to listen when it was my turn,
the time we got hats with the olympic rings on them at Mcdonalds,
the time we rode around on horses while they defecated,
the time I asked my older cousin if we could have a “talk” because I was feeling left out, the time they got the shots for whipping baby field mice against the brick

“Let’s walk together.” by Julia on her couch


Wednesday April 12, 2017
2:29pm
5 minutes
From the Walk to Fight Arthritis flyer

it is always raining here
we thought we’d get used to
having wet bones
we thought we’d get used to a dull sky, in perpetual erase
my mother has loved me vitamin d
from another province
her voice liquid sunshine in my ear when I wonder why my joints
feel heavy
we wake up to find that the webbing draped across our window
is not the kind that comes away
with wishing

“You’ve had them for about 12 days” by Julia at Bump And Grind


Friday January 27, 2017
5:43pm
5 minutes
Syllabus
Lynda Barry


When you hold up your twisted hands you forget that somewhere sometime ago they were new, and they were good. You wish the light wasn’t so damn revealing. You wish that old adage about knowing something like the back of your hand could stay true. You wish that you didn’t care about what they looked like, but they still feel like they are meant to be a reminder of vanity’s curse. The rain stings them more than you thought it would. Your daughters grabbing them to dance with you in the kitchen sting them more than you wish it would. You wish you believed in God for the days where reason doesn’t seem to be good enough. You wish you could open a jar without the help of your son, or the two dollar electric can opener from the Salvation Army.

“the life of his human counterpart” By Julia at The Deklab County Public Library


Sunday August 7, 2016 at the Deklab County Public Library
2:14pm
5 minutes
Unsaid
Neil Abramson


It was hard to see him through the rain but I didn’t have to see his face to know who he was. Michael kept his head down as if the stream of water cascading down his hair could shield his eyes. I knew that he was crying. I knew that stance anywhere. I hadn’t seen him in months and still knew he had gotten a hair cut too. I wasn’t sure if I should approach him first or wait for him to see me. I didn’t want to disrupt whatever praying he might have been doing. I didn’t want to interrupt his ritual of getting right with himself before he came to find me. The life of his human counterpart was just as complex, and he knew that too. Hell, from behind the heavy sheets of rain pouring down on us, I’m sure he could see that I was doing my work to get right with myself just the same as he was.

“biking in the rain” by Julia on Kits Beach


Monday April 18, 2016
4:49pm
5 minutes
overheard on Yew

I am
Moving
To a place where
You do not have
To worry
About
Biking
In
The
Rain
Because this place
Doesn’t have
Rain
And this place
Doesn’t have
Bike
Lanes
So crisis averted
And nobody’s hurt
And nobody’s sad
Because their
Favourite
Shirt
Got
Road grit
Splattered
On it
This place where
I’m going
Is far
And is
Wide
And is
Hope
And is
Dream
I will invite
You to meet me
As soon
As
I
Learn
My new
Address
Something like
Sunny Lane
In Sunshine Town
Just at the corner
Of
Rainbow and Sunset
Or I guess
Not Rainbow?
No more
Rainbows?
I didn’t
Think
This
New life
Through
I’ll need
Rainbows

“I do not lie to you.” By Sasha at her kitchen table


Tuesday April 12, 2016
9:56pm
5 minutes
from a text

I was never asking for a storm, but it came with all the accompanying thunder and hail and wind storms and branches across the porch. I might’ve lied to you when I said that the chickens were safe and that the roof would’ve leak. Sometimes I am not the one in control. I ventured out into it, knee-high in mud and shit, stepping over bits of fence and roof, shielding my head and my eyes. I tried to save Alice, your favourite calf, but she disappeared. Lifted by a gust like a giant’s sneeze, who knows where she is now.

“Rainfall warning” by Julia on her couch


Thursday November 12, 2015
10:31pm
5 minutes
from the weather network

Hasn’t stopped raining for weeks. Grant called last night to tell me he was sorry and wished he could have stopped by more. I told him not to worry, there were enough people coming by the house to make sure I was getting out of bed. He asked if Mary-Beth made he famous Parmigiana and I said yeah, for the third time. Hasn’t stopped raining since. When I found out, Grant was on his way over to drop off a pair of winter gloves for Owen so he was there when it all hit. He gave me a long hug and told me it was going to be okay. I didn’t let him leave me that night and he’s still acting strange about it. I don’t know why he feels bad, nothing matters anymore. I’m the one who has to live with it, and all I know is life is pretty short so nothing fucking matters. Hasn’t stopped raining for weeks.

“Man vs. Wolves” by Sasha on the 99 going West


Monday January 26, 2015
12:42pm
5 minutes
from Outside Magazine

You start the storm with your face
Curving open
Teeth like wolves
The glaciers are melting and all we can do is
pop pills and peel back the bark
When the rain comes it comes hard
You brace your
self
You reach deeper down than you’ve ever reached
You scream for the erosion and the oil and the money
You’ve got none of it
You plant your heels and you
pray
The drought was predicted by the preacher
She said
It’s gonna be dry
dry like a miracle
She said
The rain was summoned by
You
Good Lord
Good sweet wolves and monarchs and salmon
Sweep the demons under the roots
Tangle
Get away while you still can

“Sunday’s paper still lies flat open from earlier” by Sasha on her living room floor


Sunday January 25, 2015
10:24am
5 minutes
adult-mag.com

It’s okay if you wanna talk about the rain and where to get the best push up bra in this rainy city. It’s okay if you wanna not eat sugar (even the kind that’s like a birthday present from Mother Nature… Maple syrup, anyone?) It’s okay if you wanna leave yourself every once and a while, vis a vis bourbon or weed or MDMA. It’s okay if you bail on me, for the third time in two weeks, via a sad face and a missed call (me to you). It’s okay if you wanna purge your closet, selling your clothes for a fraction of what you paid, only to spend more on new clothes and new clothes and new clothes. It’s okay if you forget about the anniversary of my brother’s death and then ask why I’m not coming out tonight and then get awkward when I say why. It’s okay if you just wanna come over and lie on the floor with me and suck your thumb like you used to and be in the big silence.

“your your ene me” by Sasha in her bed


Tuesday January 20, 2015
12:12pm
5 minutes
from Hairspray Queen
Kurt Cobain Journals


She’s waiting for her Saving Grace at the corner of East and West
The stop light is yellow indefinitely
Cruising back and forth
She’s a scattered ashes kinda train wreck
Taken by the wind
Up up up
Unsure if she’s coming back again
Taken by the rain
Away away away
She won’t quit her crying
She’s waiting for her Saviour on the corner of North and South

“All of you come here” by Julia at the beach in Levanto


Sunday September 21, 2014
3:36pm
5 minutes
Overheard at the beach in Levanto

And taste the salty hope of a blessing left out in the sun too long
And wait for me there while the ocean devours your fears
I’ll come to you in your dreams and whisper your fate to you
Tell you you’re beautiful and soft and beautiful
In those perfect dances no one is catching up with one another
But allowing one to lead and then to follow when the sleep sets in
And you will find your voice buried deep in your bones
A cage left open for the birds to fly out or back in
The song of your openness will caress the mountain’s top
And the fog that started there will transform into calm
A hundred gestures of kindness given in the second half of every almond biscuit I save for you
Your mouth a heartache turned into the Milky Way
Soothed by the light that emulates through you and then around you
And you will be reborn into a morning rain

“not responsible for loss, theft, damages” by Sasha at Arbutus Coffee


Saturday September 13, 2014 at Arbutus Coffee
9:06am
5 minutes
A Schiaffini bus ticket

You know what I like about you? You dig the rain. There aren’t that many people that actually dig the rain. And it’s good you live here, like, it’s good you live in Vancouver, because rain is basically synonymous with winter here. You rock those rain pants… No, seriously! You really do… You look, like, pretty sexy in Gore-tex. You drink rooibos tea? Wow! Me too!

“do something which both parties desire but are unwilling to do” by Julia on Nicole’s couch


Tuesday September 2, 2014
11:45pm
5 minutes
from the English translation of mamihlapinatapai

It was a look. It started out that way at least. He saw her standing in the rain with a broken umbrella at her feet and melting ice cream cone in her hand. She was letting it drip down her wrists and arms. It was sort of beautiful. Like an abstract oil painting of a feeling or a sentiment, captured by circles and lines and bright colours all winding into each other trying to tell a story of life and suffering.
She didn’t notice him there because that would have diminished her moment. She didn’t see anything but the rain falling around her so hard it looked like there was none coming down at all. She didn’t see the look he gave her which came from not his eyes but his chest. A heart beating wildly inside and for something he couldn’t quite explain or express. It wasn’t a quantity he could estimate or a dream he could decipher. It was her in all her perceived loneliness, in all her pain that he was adjusting to. Without moving, careful not to disturb her; careful not to disrupt the catharsis that was forming in his throat.

“I don’t understand why I sleep all day” by Julia in the park


Saturday June 28 2014
5:27pm
5 minutes
No Rain
Blind Melon


Maybe because the rain doesn’t stop here or because waking up means having to plan something to eat. Maybe because the sounds of the wind coming in through the holes in the bedroom walls means that if it’s not okay in here, the one place where it’s supposed to be, then it most definitely is not okay out there.
Maybe because the ego is a sensitive and fragile organ and if it’s wounded, even mildly, it takes days and days to recuperate. Maybe because the skies are vast but filled with grey clouds and looking up at something so big and seeing it filled with something so sad is enough to keep anyone laying under the covers until the sun peeks out long enough to put on pants and go outside. Maybe because if I told you how I really felt you’d stay in the kitchen and I’d have no where else to hide if I wanted to stay behind a separating door. Maybe because I’m a bit broken and disappointed in myself after all the wrong choices I’ve made lately, or made ever, that having to face them in broad daylight feels too hard or too easy and I don’t know which one is worse. Maybe because I’m tired. It could be that simple. I sleep because I have to. Either that or I’m aware that being awake means having to try.

“I used to sleep at night” by Julia on her couch


Friday November 1, 2013
11:58pm
5 minutes
lyrics of Empty Room by Arcade Fire

When the wind blew in, when the rain teased the screen and taunted us with impending disaster…
that’s when I could sleep the best.
You with your head on my chest, counting my heart beats per minute, and telling stories with the sounds of my stomach gurgling. You’d sleep too, after my breath slowed and my legs began to twitch.
You’d wait for me to go first so you’d have some place to follow me to.
Then our dreams would touch in our sleep and we’d find ourselves in a combination haze of love almighty and sheer terror. When we’d wake you’d tell me of the horror but the good kind, the one that made your heart dance because it knew it was protected by the shell of mine. I’d tell you of the buildings we leaped over together, the songs we wrote just by listening to each other’s laugh.

“She snapped the shutter” by Julia at Sambuca Grill


Saturday October 12, 2013 at Sambuca Grill
6:17pm
5 minutes
from the 2011 Toronto Star article ‘American Girl still walking tall’
Murray White


Cher was waiting at the bus stop dressed like a boy because it was Thursday. She was waiting to see the driver she had grown accustomed to riding with on her usual morning route to school. Maybe she should have brought an umbrella today, she wondered to herself, even though the skies were quite clear and the forecast showed no signs of rain. Cher couldn’t have been bothered to regret things so she put the thought out of her mind and into the big bubble she was making with her gum. Today, she thought, she would ask the driver his name and maybe tell him hers. He was always very nice to her, letting her ride without paying, or just asking her about her day on the days she still dropped in the proper fare. She wondered if his name ended in an O, an R, or an L. She was usually right about things like that. She was usually right about birthdays and weight-guessing as well. Cher stood there waiting and ready when all of a sudden she felt a tiny raindrop bounce off her head.

“strengthened from within” by Julia at Belly Acres


Sunday, September 1, 2013
7:16pm
5 minutes
an Organix Shampoo ad
FLARE magazine


Henry was waiting at the bus wearing his Sunday best and his first ever pair of prescription sunglasses. He was seeing the world with new eyes, literally, and couldn’t be happier with his commute to work. Henry liked his job just fine, never complaining about the long monotonous hours, the meticulous details of the mundane routine. He had learned to understand that his work was just a means to an end and that it wouldn’t solely identify him or put him in any particularly labeled life box. He was wearing his best suit to prove to himself how important it was to dress for success: to not save fancy outfits for the “better day” or “better situation” because if it never came, then you also never would have gotten the chance to wear the suit. Henry felt very confident in his positivity. He noticed how great it felt just at the same moment a car drove too closely to him, splashing him with left over rain water.

“That’s so awkward” by Julia on the 506 going east


Tuesday April 30, 2013
8:33pm
5 minutes
Overheard on the streetcar

I wish you wouldn’t flick your freshly cut toenails at me, Lynn. It’s highly disgusting.
You’re kind of being overly sensitive about everything, so I don’t really feel bad.
Are we going to talk like adults about this? Or?
Yeah, eventually. Jesus, let me step foot inside the house first, please.
You’ve been home for 20 minutes, Lynn.
Get off it! I’m decompressing. This is my decompressing time.
I had a long day too.
Nobody asked you about anything, AJ.
Fine.
You want to talk?
I don’t know.
Do you? AJ?
I said I don’t know. I mean I do but you’re being a pain in the ass right now and it’s not fun for me, okay?
It’s weird to talk about it like it’s nothing.
I never said it was nothing.
But it’s the way you act about it, like, let’s just talk it out and then it will be fine. It won’t be.
You don’t know that, Lynn, it could be amazing for us to really discuss it for once.
Did you know it’s always raining every time you leave the country? Every time you get on a plane, really.
That’s not true.
It is. It’s a weird thing you and the universe are doing to me.
STOP FLICKING THEM AT ME.
I’m not doing it on purpose…
I think your phone is ringing.
I think your brain is buzzing.
Fine, Lynn, just let me know when you’re ready.
I will do no such thing.

“RAIN (on someone’s statue)” by Julia on her bed


Thursday February 14, 2013
12:28am
5 minutes
The Vampire Cat
Robert Payne


Raining love and stuff, which is nice. It’s unusual, I’ll say that. Don’t usually feel much love on a regular basis. Not his fault. Doesn’t know how to love me. Maybe it’s mine. The fault. I’m sometimes only pretty after eating breakfast and using the mascara wand. He comes home, brings some nice love in. Some donuts, one flower. Also brings in those nine dollar steaks so I know we’re in for a treat. Put on my best dress, the red. The red one with the single bow in the middle there. It is nice. Festive. He thinks so too. Tells me I went and looked nice for him, which I did. Then just pouring out more and more love. Nice comments, which I’ll never forget. Says he is lucky, not sure if he means it. Sounds good anyway. Then sit down beside him at the table. This time beside, usually across. Not really sure why not always beside. Special occasion or something. We are eating the nine dollar steaks, and it’s so very easy. I’m blushing behind my cheeks, don’t want him to see he’s making me feel this nice. Don’t want him to get any self-conscious and stop the nice sayings.
Then he sneezes all big. He doesn’t cover his mouth, just sneezes real big. It’s all over me too now. The sneeze that’s less like love rain and more just like snotty rain.

“boyfriend’s oversized sportscoat” by Julia on the 506 going East


Thursday February 7, 2013
3:15pm
5 minutes
http://www.thesartorialist.com

He stepped into the rain with his umbrella half closed, thinking to himself, things could be worse. He waited for Dana to come out of the house. Waiting was something he did well because being late was something Dana did professionally. She couldn’t be the first to arrive at a party and be seen waiting at a table, or at the bar. She liked to make an entrance, but mostly because she didn’t like to be kept waiting. She wasn’t insanely late, just never on time. Tonight, he knew early on, Dana would surely want to arrive only five minutes after the scheduled time because it was important. The rain began to come down a little harder, Dana still inside the house. He opened his umbrella all the way and stood at the end of the driveway, humming to himself. She did this so regularly that he knew if he stayed inside with her, he would get stuck answering questions about which shoes went better, the nude or the black, which earrings, the dangling ones or the hoops, which purse, etc. He eventually began to lie to her, saying yes to whatever thing she was wearing at the time to reduce the time it would take for him to be honest and for her to change yet again. He’d rather wait outside, light a little fire under her ass, and then be surprised by how beautiful she managed to look anyway, even after so much time deliberating.