“But he was never seen practicing” by Julia at her desk

Sunday August 18, 2019
1:38pm
5 minutes
Cato The Younger
Plutarch

He says he sets his alarm for 8:08am and that’s the earliest he ever gets out of bed on the weekdays.
Weekends? Jury’s out on that one. He says he wants to play basketball in a city that actually gives a shit.
He says the YMCA doesn’t have enough diversity. Not for what he’s used to.
Whatever that means coming from Ottawa.
When I ask him about the basketball courts near the beach he acts like he’s never heard of them.
I almost say but don’t: IF YOU WANT TO PLAY BASKETBALL YOU SHOULD GO TO A PLACE WHERE BASKETBALL IS PLAYED.
But he’s resistant to the thought of leaving his house.
In fact, I have never seen him practicing anything other than his litany of complaints about this city.
I too have traveled from away to get here, and I won’t be too judgmental since I used to talk shit
about everything and everyone and why don’t I fit in this, and why can’t I do that…
But I was homesick. So maybe he’e homesick. Or maybe he wants to say all the bad stuff to justify
his next escape move to another city. Tell them it wasn’t fulfilling, or the people didn’t meet
your expectations, or you couldn’t find any fucking basketball past the easy places to look…
I mean, if you were really that into something, wouldn’t you have searched high and low to find the right fit?

“**NEW CLIENT TO DAZZLE!**” by Julia on her couch

Friday March 8, 2019 6:11pm 5 minutes From Nannies On Call Hello fuck you very much, I have a lot to tell you actually, I quit, for one, second, full disclosure, going to bad mouth you guys on the internet. I don’t care about your clients. I think a place that is bad for the people who work there is going to breed something far worse for the clients than what I say. What I want to say is I don’t know how I’ve put up with it for so long. Kind of a stay-too-long-at-all-the-wrong-parties kind of gal. I know I could have left sooner, but, full disclosure, I needed the job and if I valued myself even a smidgen more I wouldn’t be as complicit. I really want to talk about your no emergencies rule. How the fuck are you sleeping at night? Three misses and you’re out even with a doctor’s note? FUCKS.

“The coach was bullshit.” By Sasha at her kitchen table

Wednesday January 30, 2019
11:56pm
5 minutes
Created By
Richard Christian Matheson

It wasn’t my fault. Coach was bullshit. I tried telling Stevie and Jay from the get-go that Coach was a turd, didn’t know what she was talking about, didn’t know her ass from the ball… Nobody listened to me! We had a good reputation, man, I mean, we weren’t seven time champions but we gave Crescent Hill a run for their money every year! When Coach Peterson retired I knew we were effed. I’d seen Coach Jenkins sniffing around the court, trying to butter up the team, trying to use her jokes to make everyone like her. I’m not gonna fall for that shit!

“heaven is great, earth is great, people are great” by Sasha on the 99

Wednesday January 2, 2019
2:13pm
5 minutes
Living the Wisdom of the Tao
Dr. Wayne W. Dyer

It’s okay, I mean, I’m okay. Things are okay, Brad, I don’t know what you want me to say… Everyone is happy sometimes and sad sometimes, right?! It’s not even about the balance of being happy and sad I don’t think… It’s about the quality of the feelings. Like, when you’re happy, are you really free? Is there still a little balloon in your chest slowly deflating? Don’t lie to yourself about it. No point in lying about that little balloon, she probably just needs acknowledgement! When you’re sad are you really letting yourself, like, go there? Are you crying and stuff? I don’t know how to take how you’re looking at me… We haven’t seen each other in, like, three years, and now you’re acting all concerned? Sometimes I’m really happy. Sometimes I’m really sad. That’s it.

“and a quiet evening sipping whiskey” by Julia on the Brown Line

Wednesday September 12, 2018
7:16pm
5 minutes
Mr. Bright Eyes
John Barton

Who had the bright idea to go to Target and buy a 12 pack of Miller Lite? Must have been you since you’re the only one drinking Miller Lite these days. Me, I can’t swallow the stuff. Not just Miller Lite, but beer. The only thing they drink here. Not beer as in here take a sip, take a load off, take the edge off. Beer as in, here, here, here, and here, and more, and more, and more, and here. I can’t do it like that. I was told not to. My body has been trying to remind me that. You wouldn’t want me that way anyway. Those days when I used to drink beer and beer and here and here I wouldn’t know where here was or me, or my desires. I don’t recognize the person who used to drink in the shower, before the comedy show, before leaving the house. I could ask us to stay in one night, have a quiet evening sipping whiskey but, you are not the kind of person who sips anything. You like the feeling of being tipsy with me, but I can’t seem to get there anymore without losing myself. I don’t like the action of sipping things when I am simply not thirsty.
My guts have been full since I got here. You had a Miller Lite in the closet yesterday and I had one more reason to stop. The dreams come worse when I’ve been filling all the holes with the wrong kind of gold. The kind that costs four dollars at Target.

“Response rate: 100%” by Julia at her desk

Thursday April 26, 2018
6:54am
5 minutes
poparide.com

If you call me and I can’t pick up but I CALL YOU RIGHT BACK
as in I do not let you finish your voicemail
as in your phone should still be open on my number
can I just ask one little question?
WHERE THE EFF ARE YOU?
Seconds have past
Has the urgency left?
Are you passed out, dead, on the phone with someone else?
Is your ringer on?
Would you like to join the conversation?
Here’s my two cents
People who call you and then have their phone on silent
shouldn’t be allowed to own a phone
They have classes for driving a car
And if you don’t pass, you don’t drive
You should have to take a test for the use of your dinky cell phone
“Oh I don’t know how that happened, that’s weird, it was in my pocket”
I don’t want to have to wait to talk to you
if I call you I am CALLING YOU
but if you don’t pick up I will be on the phone with someone else
because you forfeit the right to speak with me and I have shit to discuss
I hope you’re not dead

“Very rarely patients develop __________.” by Julia on the 20

Wednesday April 11, 2018
8:49pm
5 minutes
Diagnosis
Adam Sol

You’re online again because that’s where the answers are. That’s where you’re allowed to be sick. Because the forums are full of people like you looking for inches to turn into miles. Itches to turn into conditions and you’re convinced you’ve been cut by the hidden incision bit by the bug that borrows its fangs into your skin and then buries its offspring underneath it. You’re sick and you know it. The rash you developed shows it, the hard lump in your throat chose itself and you tell the world you did not make this up. Where all the people like you play, looking to lose at another game, maybe this way you will have something to blame for the wrong going on in your life. The invisible pains, come and go strains, the ones that buy you sympathy and community and attention.

“kindergarten registration” by Julia on the 99


Thursday June 22, 2017
1:04pm
5 minutes
from a sign

back to school
time to learn some things
how to deal with disappointment
how to deal with spending all the money on all the things that end up being disappointing
how to deal
how to be okay with the bruises that come from chasing perfection
how to be okay with taking ownership for all the mistakes
how to smile at the next person so
one bad day doesn’t bleed into another
how to fight the urge to cry on a bus so no one sees
how to cry on a bus so no one sees
how to cry only enough for release and not for pouchy eye bags

back to school
time to learn some things

“I was speaking body-to-body.” by Julia on her bed


Wednesday June 21, 2017
10:52pm
5 minutes
from an interview with Lidia Yuknavitch on http://www.bloom-site.com

Horay, you fixed the bed. Now our bones don’t crumple in at the meeting place. I never knew how much knee crawling I do until receieving the cease and desist.
It is bad for some reasons, but you don’t want to hear that because it would get in the way of you patting yourself on the back.
You don’t want to hear them but I am not built like a slow cooker. I make popcorn with my feelings. I burst through every single lid in this apartment.
I don’t like sleeping in and now I am more comfortable because my spine is no longer screaming at me. I am speaking body to body now. If you don’t want to hear how my silence stings, you better set your chest to ‘Listen.’

“can’t think of anything to add.” by Julia on her couch


Monday November 28, 2016
9:45pm
5 minutes
From a feedback form

I wish I didn’t fall asleep when I read
Wish I didn’t love chocolate
Wish I didn’t need to spend a long time in the bathroom with the door closed not talking me to anyone for hours
Wish I didn’t only call my mom when I am walking somewhere
Wish I cared more about DIY
Wish I knew how to play the ukulele
Wish people asked me to sing for them
Wish I could wear sweatpants to the printers or the dentist
Wish I didn’t have a permanent retainer (or two) (for flossing)
Wish flossing was stupidly enjoyable
Wish someone could squeeze me all day
Wish someone would squeeze me all night
Wish I never needed to consult the Internet for recipes
Or scrabble words
Or origins of weird sayings
Wish I was born in a different decade
Or area code

“Lying flat because my back is killing” by Julia on her bed


Wednesday October 19, 2016
9:31pm
5 minutes
from a text

Oh no! Me? I’m THRILLED to stay at home laying on the hard wood floor instead of watching Lauryn Hill and being changed for the better. Trust me. I couldn’t be happier that my back is no longer functioning enough to hold me vertical and allow for even the most casual of swaying. I tell myself I will get an opportunity like this again and not to worry. And not to cry because crying hurts my entire body. My sister’s voice on the phone echoes off the floor. She yells at me to stay strong and to remember how many people wouldn’t dare complain about much worse. I don’t know what the fuck that means. I am missing Lauryn Fucking Hill. I don’t even have a good reason. Slipping on a patch of ice is not a good reason!

“for a fun birthday” by Julia at her dining table


Thursday August 25, 2016
6:59am
5 minutes
SAD MAG
from a TMZ video

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:

I am not celebrating my birthday this year.

I AM NOT CELEBRATING MY BIRTHDAY THIS YEAR.

So. You can all go back to what you were doing. WHAT wERe YoU DOinG AnyWAY?? Celebrating something else?? Probably anything else??

I am very upset.
UPset. UPset. because. BECAUSE: I WAS Set Up. That is the truth. TO FAIL. set up to fail and to deal with the repercussions on my oWN. Which is painful. I mISs My Sister.
I miss her laugh. I miss her handssssssss.

And they want me to KEEP PUSHING?

How far before I am edging off the face of this planet? How FAR BEFORE I AM JUST Another NEWs STORy. This Just In: Everything is wrong and nothing is right and someone who needs those things to be switched is feeling the sadness of losing someone close and needs to be held but people are afraid and needs to be told IT IS GOING TO BE OKAY by someone WHO KNOWS and by someone who Won’t Turn It Into A Media Scandal.

I am not celebrating my birthday this year. I have disappointed everyone and nobody will come and everyone is mad and nobody can fix broken with cake.

“best learning environment” by Julia on her couch


Monday November 2, 2015
5:21pm
5 minutes
from the post for an English tutor

Ok, hi, can I ask you a favour? My sister, Mandy is in desperate need of assistance and I do not know if I alone can assist her. Maybe if I explain to you her issues, you’ll be able to better asses if you, in fact, can lend your help, or if you my know someone who is better equipped to deal with the inner workings of a twelve year old than you or I both are.
Ok, so, realistically speaking, she is unable to remember daily routine information. She does not know the names of her teachers, or if she has been using the blue toothbrush or the yellow one, even though all our lives we have had our very specific colours. She no longer enjoys watching reruns of Punky Brewster, which was her ever-living favourite television program of all time.
She also refuses to practice her times tables or eat ricotta cheese!

“Your vision, values and needs” by Julia on her couch


Sunday November 1, 2015
11:59pm
5 minutes
An ad for a Life Coach

The back of my computer is covered in chocolate icing because…well fuck, because, obviously. It’s been a hard month, alright, I admit that. It’s been one of those times in my life that sounds great on paper–if you get off on misery and if you romanticize inadequacy. I’d like to say that I was surprised to find myself in this situation, but the truth is, I have expected it to come at one point or another because I have never really not been the type to somehow find ninety-nine cent frosting bits smeared across my laptop. Yes it was ninety-nine cents, yes I ate it with my hands, yes I ate it in under four days, yes I did this completely on my own, and yes I enjoyed it and felt that it was, at particular wee hours of the morning, a truly smart decision…
These are tough times.

“No need to hurry” by Sasha on her porch


Saturday, July 18, 2015
11:43am
5 minutes
From an email

No need to hurry, Si. You’ll trip! Your shoelaces are undone… Silas! Shit. Come here. Come here. You’re alright, you’ll be alright. Shhh… Sh… Mikey and Lizz are coming for supper. What shall we make. Burritos? How bout burritos? And you and Mikey can have fizzies and me and Lizz will have grown-up fizzes with wine. Oh. I guess we should stop at the liquor store, then. Or… No, can’t ask Lizz to bring, she’s always so low on cash. Not sure why she doesn’t ask Greg for more spending money. It’s not like he doesn’t have more than enough! And then he takes the kids to Marine Land and gets all the glory while Lizz is left – … Silas? Nevermind. Honey, don’t pick that up. That’s garbage! SILAS! Don’t you dare put that in your mouth. There’ll be no fizzy for you!

“The audience is your partner” by Julia on her couch


Sunday, June 28, 2015
8:44pm
5 minutes
Conversations with Anne
Anne Bogart


Hi! Oh there are so many of you! Such a good looking group, and I swear I’m not just saying that. I don’t tell everyone that. I don’t think it’s fair to give people false interpretations of themselves. If it’s not a good looking group, I just avoid the topic entirely. But you. You are a stunning piece of work, and you should know that you are because everyone should hear it if it’s true. I don’t like when people go crazy for babies even if they’re not cute. Some people say the mothers always think their kid is cute but what about the truly ugly infants? I’m not trying to be cruel, but my friends, I value authenticity; I value reality. How does a mother look at her ugly kid and still make claims that he or she is adorable. Okay okay I know what you’re thinking, “she’s an asshole, she must be dealing with some childhood trauma, or self-image issues.” I can assure you, and maybe I should be lying here, that I do just simply hate people who won’t see the truth.

“Last night I was like fuck it” by Julia at Bicerin Espresso Bar


Friday, June 5, 2015 at Bicerin
3:26pm
5 minutes
from a text

Oh you want me to start with you? Tell you all the things you could be “working on?” How bout you just fucking man up and look around you for once in your life. Maybe just take two seconds to acknowledge that there are other people in the room, that I’m in the room. did you think to ask how I was doing? Did you think to maybe put aside your own needs for somebody else? Don’t answer those…They’re what we call “rhetorical questions”. They don’t need answers because I KNOW THE ANSWERS. You keep disappointing me. Do you know that that’s what you’re doing? Don’t answer that either.
I told you I didn’t want to start because I knew I would get petty and start naming off all the shit I think you’ve fucked up. I don’t think I’ve even asked you for that much and you still make it feel like I’m begging for the moon. I don’t want the fucking moon, okay, all I want is a little common courtesy. Or..I don’t know, not common. Special courtesy for once would actually be very nice, seeing as though you subscribe to the notion that the other kind is too common to even give to me.

“scoop up all the trash” by Julia on her patio


Thursday May 7, 2015
10:04pm
5 minutes
from http://www.ecokids.ca

Community service. As if I should have to serve the community for doing one thing against the legal system. Like one tiny thing, and they make you serve the entire community with your penance and your time and your new shame. There are so many people doing illegal and stupid things. SO MANY. They’re not serving the community, they’re not even worried about having to. I mean, a service to my community would be warning everybody about where not to smoke hash in this city. Tell people where not to speed. Now these are services people want. The community doesn’t give a flying fuck if I rake up some completely docile leaves. Leaves don’t bother people, why is that one of the tasks? The community doesn’t care if I scoop up all the trash in the park. There are city people who get PAID to do that so they’re not going to suddenly feel like a big weight’s been lifted off them if I, the apparently guilty, offer a bunch of hours to essentially take away job opportunities from someone who actually needs the work.

“Bitch better have my money” by Julia in a taxi


Wednesday, April 8, 2015
3:21pm
5 minutes
Better Have My Money
Rihanna


Went to the mailbox today. Noticed all my letters were soaked right through. Holes. I chalk it up to holes. I expect this shitbox house I am living in with its shitbox buzzing refrigerator and its shitbox screaming radiators and its shitbox location right beside not one but TWO railway tracks to also have a leaky shitbox mail collector. I have no more hopes for myself. I’m at what you would call, rock bottom. And no, though you think it might, it doesn’t feel good. Sorry I get sarcastic when I’ve slept for only 3 hours because my shitbox neighbours were up until sunrise playing a death metal rendition of The Itsy Bitsy Spider. I LOVE MY LIFE.

“Jeff Jones, I’ll kill you!” by Julia on her bed


Wednesday April 1, 2015
2:36am
5 minutes
Bulk Basics

I have had it up to HERE with you JEFF JONES. Oh don’t smile at me you smug piece of shit, I will end you before you can even raise your eyebrows in that cocky ass way one more time. That’s right, I’m angry. I’ve said it and I stand by it. What were you thinking? Seriously, do you have an explanation or are you going to play the “This is just who I am BULLSHIT CARD?” Cause it is bullshit. You afraid or something? Is that why you’re so guarded and so resistant to help? Cause you secretly hate yourself? Well guess what, we all hate ourselves sometimes if not at all times so I don’t give a shit if you feel a little less self-love. It’s NOT AN EXCUSE, JEFF FUCKING JONES. Even your name makes me recoil. It’s such a pretentious name. You remind me of that two first names guy, Jeff David, from high school that everyone liked because he had spiky hair and a bad attitude. He was an asshole, Jeff. And just because you share the same name doesn’t mean you have to share the same behaviour. Now. Let’s discuss it. I don’t want to even HEAR any excuses!

“This is a highly competitive, adjudicated process” by Julia at the Bloor/gladstone public library


Monday March 30, 2015 at the TPL
5:46pm
5 minutes
The BC Arts Council website

I have never been so nervous! I’m sweating behind my knees and I’m gassy like a bagel on a cow’s hip. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING? BECAUSE I CARE WAY TOO MUCH?? IS IT MY FAULT? I just want them to like me. To accept me and recognize me for my efforts. I think that’s a normal human thing to want. But this is big. It’s not just like, oh, you didn’t gain approval, it means, oh, you didn’t get funding, validation, encouragement to continue trying, etc, etc. I’m fully aware of the competition. I don’t want to be the kind of person who competes with the people out there who compete in these things for sport. But can a nobody compete against his or herself? Can this be turned into a positive somehow? I can’t think, I just want this. But did I do enough work to earn it? I don’t know, I’m sitting here waxing ridiculous to a bunch of overly medicated rich people who all equally believe that their kid deserves this over me.

“This is a highly competitive, adjudicated process” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Monday March 30, 2015
2:13pm
5 minutes
The BC Arts Council website

Ladies and gentlemen, theys and theirs, it is of the utmost importance that you understand that this is a highly competitive, adjudicated process. Not everyone will succeed. In fact, look around you, look at the over-plucked or unkempt eyebrows and the chapped lips and the waxy moustaches… Only a handful of these toenailed toes will make it onwards. This is not to dissuade you. This is to INSPIRE YOU! This is to set you FREE! Competition is the fire in your loins or loinettes! It’s the rumble in your belly (and not from burrito night!) It’s setting your mind to something with the whole-hearted belief that YOU CANNOT FAIL! (But you can. And you most likely will. Always allow that littttttle voice in the back of your head that says you’re a loser to taunt you and judge you and keep you in check.)

“three variations to play with” by Julia on her bed


Monday February 16, 2015
11:03pm
5 minutes
chatelaine.com

Okay so I started this day with a hunger for both burgers and living my life to the fullest. I haven’t touched a burger in at least 8 months, and unfortunately I can say the same for living my life to the fullest. I wasn’t even living my life at all, so what I’m saying is that I’ve been ignoring my cravings to taste the world and touch the internal madness that drives me. I miss burgers every time I write the damn word. I miss living my life now, but before I didn’t even notice it was missing. It’s the same thing when I put all my long necklaces into a jewelry box, or shove my old notebooks into a drawer. If I don’t see them on a daily basis, I genuinely forget that they’re there. I don’t know if that’s a weak character trait passed down to me from my ancestors a thousand years ago, or if it’s just true because I’m such a wild moment to moment kind of gal (spoiler alert: it is NOT because I’m busy being present in the current anything. I wish that to be true, but it is not true. The spoiler alert is the only thing true. Because the truth is that I’m spoiling myself. This parenthetical has taken a turn for the worst. Okay just leave while there’s still a chance. Alright, forget it: I’ll go).

“I like chocolate!” by Sasha at Caffe W


Sunday February 15, 2015
2:10pm
5 minutes
overheard at Caffe W

I don’t want that shit. It’s nasty! It’s sticky and it slides around my mouth like it thinks it knows where it’s going but it DON’T. You’ve got that look like I’ve said something wrong but really I’m just trying to practice truthfulness, like that stinky yoga teacher talks about. Everyone makes such a big deal about chocolate but I do not get it. I really don’t! Maybe it’s a woman thing. I’m not an oppressor of women, or anything so don’t get the wrong idea, I just know what women do around chocolate and I’ve never seen a man do that. It’s borderline sexually erotic. Chocolate is. For women. Are you gonna finish that burrito? I would. I mean, if you’re not going to. Are you coming to Becca’s Mad Men party on Saturday? I haven’t decided yet… I mean, I like an excuse to wear a suit and tie, but I’m allergic to cats and Becca has three. It’s like, either I take the anti-histamines and pray to the allergy gods that they work or I…

“Sell it to me! I want to fix it!” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Wednesday January 28, 2015
9:19pm
5 minutes
Sasha’s notebook

Sell me your shit! I wanna make it cool! I wanna fix it! Sell it to me cheap! I can do better than you, but I’m to laz-yyyyy! Gimme dat blanket – Imma make it a pillow. BANG! Gimme dat dreamcatcher! Imma catch some real randy dreams! Sell me your shit! I’m jonesin’ for a nice hit of… STUFF! Your stuff. Your old, used, wet, wilted, sticky, sexy, slimy, gross, gorgeous stuff. Imma make a soup outta it and let that shit simmer simmer simmer. Have a garage sale, biatch, and I’ll be the only muthafuckah there!

“there’s nothing to switch on” by Julia at Pearson Airport


Thursday January 22, 2015
4:10pm
5 minutes
enRoute magazine
January 2015


The girl overreacted. I watched her do it. Someone cut in front of her in line at the dollar store. She reacted. It was over the top. An overreaction, you know. She looked like she was searching for answers-as if they’d come by opening and closing her eyes rapidly. I wanted to yell at her, “Hey! There’s nothing to switch on!” But it wouldn’t have been worth it. It wouldn’t have meant anything to her. I think she was just one of those empty birds, desperate to hold onto something. The type of girl who says, “I’m not much of a reader. I don’t have the attention span.” Or “I prefer audio books cause then your eyes don’t get tired.” Or “Each to his own. Each to his own.”

“there’s nothing to switch on” by Sasha on the 99 going East


Thursday January 22, 2015
5:19pm
5 minutes
enRoute magazine
January 2015


I’m glad that you’re living your life, Bets, but there are some of us that don’t have the privilege of touring around the the God damn world for two years! Some of us have to W-O-R-K! I know you’re pretty into being radical and telling us stories about when you stole, or ate three pizzas in one day or when you had a threesome in Venice… But, like… Do you think we actually care? I’m going to spin class and giving tired blow jobs to Ken and trying to forget about the fact that this is just the beginning of a VERY LONG WINTER. I’m really happy for you that your Instagram feed is more important than your dignity. Good for friggen you. I’m not jealous. I have no desire to abandon every single person I love for a two years of a selfish “me” party. Gag me! Gag me, Bets!

“Selfie?” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Sunday December 7, 2014
11:04am
5 minutes
Overheard on a bridge in Venice

I’m not sure about this snap snap craze
I’m on the other side and I’ve been there for days
I dig the reclamation of representation of self
But there’s something about connection that’s up on a shelf
Looking up and down the row of face and phone
I wonder about reality, what’s here and what’s shown
Portraiture has always and forever been a thing
But the self obsession and preoccupation makes me wanna fling
My iPhone in the ocean and let it wash out to sea
I don’t need a photo to tell myself who’s me

“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!

“Questions about living” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Thursday September 18, 2014
11:15am
5 minutes
a Word document

Sometimes I have pretty serious questions about living. Often, they concern Instagram. Okay. I apologize in advance if this turns “rant-y” cuz that’s not usually my style but sometimes girl’s gotta preach… AMIRIGHT?

Okay. So. I’m considering taking a ‘Gram break. (That sounds like a drug break. No way that’s happening! Haha! Just kidding! I’ve been clean since May, bitches!) I’m sick and Rick (I don’t know what that means but it’s strangely humorous to me) and tired of all you fakers posting picture of your fucking SALAD. Like, I know you be eating all the Smartfood! And your slices of cucumber?! And your half an orange?!!! LIKE, REALLY?!? And then, as if that fruit and vegetable isn’t annoying enough, what you write underneath really puts me over the GD edge. “#healthy” “#myskinisglowing” “#LIVECLEAN” GAG ME. GAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGG ME.

Not to be like, negative, cuz that’s not what this Tumblr is about, yo. Also, not to be gangsta, but that’s just, like, how this is coming out today. Funny, right? I don’t want my words to be empty so I’m gonna take a break from it. From the scrolling and the trolling (basically I’m Shakespeare) and the, like, liking shit I actually think is dumb! I’m gonna stop getting stuck in a vortex of all the photos by ex-boyfriends step-sister liked! I can’t get that time back, bitches!

“Homicidal computer” by Julia on her couch


Thursday June 19, 2014
10:20pm
5 minutes
CBC News

killing me waiting on me to fold to fold over to bend to bend over and go and go somewhere so i can’t tell the time the time to wait to be killed or the time to wait to be kept alive
alive
yeah she said that it was fast
on the phone
in an e-mail
i deleted it
deleted it all and all of it was killed
killed slowly
there was someone there giving directions to the parking lot
the parking lot of empty promises
drive away drive away away
and then i said i love you to no on in particular in particular
winding down and out and in and over and the time is out it’s running running
got on its kicks, its nike new balance its do it now it’s doing it something like that or something or other
and it’s still running because time runs it doesn’t crawl it doesn’t beg it doesn’t plead it doesn’t wait
it kills and kills and kills
i’m here on the mend on the mend and up and out bigger better things and bigger better moments
yeah he said that it was quick
on the phone
in an e-mail
i deleted it
deleted it all and all of it came right back
can’t escape the motions the slogans the misused lotions the potions the daily quotients