“tired of having sex only with me” by Julia on her couch

Tuesday October 31, 2017
9:16pm
5 minutes
A Few Portals
Debbie Urbanski

I left the back door unlocked so he could sneak in and fuck me while you were taking a shower.
Before him I had that fantasy a million times. I wanted it to be you. I wanted to choose someone who wasn’t just the neighbour. And yet the neighbour makes me feel like I’m a priority because he comes when I call. And I called you the same way. I tried to pretend it didn’t matter. I tried to convince myself that I didn’t care. And yet I would drive to the store, buy a bottle of wine, come home, and wash up right before you. He would come right over. I was tired of being the only one having sex with me.

“you are the first woman I’ve touched” by Julia on the bed at the YWCA hotel Vancouver


Friday September 1, 2017
9:57pm
5 minutes
Pearl in the Mist
V.C. Andrews


In the dream, she is following me with her eyes. Crowded room, music bump bump blaring. Her gaze settles in her face like a perfect egg yolk cooked sunny side up. I feel like I am melting and she keeps herself affixed to me. She is wearing a simple black tank top. But the thinness of her straps are driving me wild. The way they sit grooved into her collarbone. I picture sliding one strap off her shoulder, slowly. She never breaks contact.
Suddenly I am licking her up and down, spreading her knees with my free hand. I am taking my time and sucking slow. She breathes like a goddess. I cannot stop kissing her Soft. In the dream she comes and I keep going. In the dream she kisses me with tongue and doesn’t say a word.

“Christian Science Reading Room” by Sasha in her bed


Wednesday August 23, 2017
11:46pm
5 minutes
From a storefront on West Broadway

Words are my best lover
knowing when to go slow and move slick
Whisper whisper the sweet fuck
I cradle my notebook like your elbow
the salty spot where your hip is
my lip is I snuggle my pen and
don’t sweat the stain

Words know me and grow me and stretch
the truth of the t-r-u-t-h
of the b-o-d-y
b can oh-nly contain oh oh oh

d is the darkness
is the depth
is the deep

why y y why
a crest
a crescendo
Words, my tonic, my prince, my
oh my

“I was speaking body-to-body.” By Sasha at her desk


Wednesday June 21, 2017
11:18pm
5 minutes
From an interview with Lidia Yuknavitch on http://www.bloom-site.com

We don’t have much to say to each other
with these things
with these words
with syll-
ables
broken and frayed
and drunk on vowels

We speak body-to-body
sweaty sheets wound round
thighs and arms and
you touch me with the
conviction I’ve always
wanted to be wanted
in this articulation

When we walk down the
street you are distant
one hand on the handlebars
of your bicycle
I’m not used to this
arrangement of hard
K’s and V’s and
you disorient me
with your vague
interpretations of
song lyrics of the
band I wish I knew

I am gutted when
you stop calling
because I’ve only known
this body-to-body to mean
something
something languid
something truthful
something gracious

It’s two years before I
know the true taste of sweetness
of gentle whispered w’s and a’s

“he could hear her husky” By Julia on her couch


Thursday March 2, 2017
9:48pm
5 minutes
Ordinary Thunderstorms
Wiliam Boyd


After a week of coughing up dark globules of phlegm, Andie had had enough. She couldn’t afford to be anywhere other than a sink because as soon as she got comfortable, she’d get the call in her throat, and she’d have to spit. It was disgusting, to say the least. She wasn’t thrilled about horking up half of baby seal everytime she swallowed, but “better out than in” her mother used to say. Pierre was getting pretty sick of Andie being sick too. He once had to politely ask her not to spit in the bathroom sink out of fear of her clogging the drain with one of her “infection chews”. Andie laughed at this because, yes, they were chewy, and yes she was worried about clogging the drain too. When she did this, however, while as sick as she was, Pierre couldn’t help but be turned on. Her husky voice made her sound like pure sex. And he wanted her.

“there was a rubric” by Julia at her dining table


Wednesday February 1, 2017
9:39pm
5 minutes
from a voice memo

He asks if I like it like he wants me to say no. Asking me at all automatically gets a no. Am I not showing you? Am I not putting my whole thing into it? I want to tell him that “no” I don’t, but keep making these sounds and see if he is listening to my mouth or to my body. If he were he wouldn’t have to ask–as if there’s some kind of rubric for me to fill out: The student was sufficient. The student was timid. The student showcased strong grasp of concepts. The student handed in his assignment early but did not get extra marks because, though he finished, it wasn’t done to the best of his ability.

“a supermoon in Taurus.” By Sasha in the bath


Sunday November 20, 2016
10:04pm
5 minutes
From chaninicholas.com

Thirteen in Peurto Vallarta walking
ahead my mother and sister keeping close

Men in Tommy Hilfiger T-shirts hiss and growl
first taste of the power and the burden

Fish tacos on the beach salty hair
Sunburn like a bad weather forecast

At the hotel a man who works there
teaches me how to say “How are you?” in Spanish

He blushes and looks at his Nike’s when I ask it
I take my hair out of a ponytail

“she honestly does not have those impulses” by Sasha on the ferry heading home


Wednesday November 16, 2016
6:35pm
5 minutes
Dear Sugar Radio


I found the sweet spot in a twin bed in my father’s house
second floor of the Victorian brick house on the tree-lined street
Lying on my back thinking thinking seeing thinking wishing panting
parting spreading leaking oh oh say it yes sweet sweet sweet
There was not shame on the futon on the floor of the basement
of my mother’s house
first love like liquid gold between my legs
first love passion and clumsy hands and is it supposed to feel like
this?
I see these young ones
pups
I see these crying mothers
for their daughters in crop tops with eyes the basins of longing
Fill me up
Fill me up

“slack jawed” by Sasha in the bath


Thursday October 12, 2016
11:09pm
5 minutes
From an email

I wasn’t used to the attention
an excuse
okay
a discretion
I did fifteen things I regret
okay
starting and ending with
you
Tears fall onto a notebook page
a and e and s swell and bleed
a womb away my sister
nurses the next generation
It’s late there
My sorry will never be
enough
for the slack jaw
fuck
on the couch
in the country
My regrets bite my tongue
Assault my dreams
night after night
season after fall
driving cars off cliffs
walking topless into a family reunion
in Florida

“misgendering a trans person” by Julia at Jericho Beach


Sunday June 26, 2016
4:12pm
5 minutes
From a Tweet


-I can’t believe we’re discussing your baby. Your baby that’s attached to you!
-I know, I’m glad we decided to keep this little cashew.
-When are you going to find out the sex?
-No, we’re not doing that.
-What? why not? All the aunts will be expecting a party.
-Party?
-A gender reveal party: get a cake with hidden icing, slice it up, check for sex, play stupid games…
-And yet, those are reasons I hadn’t considered. The last thing I need is a bunch of middle aged women blasting each other with blue or pink silly string.
-You don’t want to find out if it’s a girl cashew or a boy cashew?
-THAT’S NOT THE POINT!

“fumbling as she removes” by Julia at her dining table


Saturday June 11, 2016
9:58pm
5 minutes
from an assignment

It’s the second time they’ve fucked in 2 hours. She is eyes closed, veal roast in the oven, 15 minutes left, oven mitts on and panties down. He is grabbing, grinding, purring in her ear pushing pants down, hers, his, lower, lower. She is arched back, kicking off tight jeans, kicking tight jeans aside, making more room, getting better grip. He is neck kissing, hair pulling, t-shirt over head lead her from the kitchen counter, all the way to the living room floor. She is focused, free, committed. He is thirsty, licking, willing. She is sniffing his skin and sighing deep. He is groaning each second, spilling into her, spilling out of her.

“I make him feel guilty.” by Julia at Lindsay’s house


Wednesday May 18, 2016
10:44pm
5 minutes
Burner Season
Ellie Sawatzky


Kev and I haven’t spoken since last Wednesday. It’s been a week. I told him I wanted to see how long we could go without engaging with each other. He was angry that I even suggested something like that. I didn’t say it but I wanted him to know how I felt. How when I want intimacy, conversation, attention, I have to practically beg him for it. I wanted him to know what it felt like to live with someone who didn’t “put out” emotionally. So far it’s been brutal for both of us but I don’t know who’s got it worse. I decided on purpose that I would avoid him to teach him a lesson but I’m not sure if I’ve now pushed him away instead. When we have to share the kitchen, Kev reaching up to the top shelf to pull down his favourite cereal bowl, me underneath him grinding flax seeds, we don’t make eye contact if we can avoid it. I don’t know what he would do if I looked him in the eye, but I do know that if he met my gaze I would have a hard time keeping my mouth away from his. This distance, despite my efforts to remain unmoved has made me want him more than I am maybe willing to control. I have been fighting myself for 7 days: Make him come to me, or make him come for me.

“the way you would like them to appear” by Sasha on her couch


Tuesday March 22, 2016
11:43pm
5 minutes
On the artist program guide site

We met when I was damp with summer between
my temples the handlebars of my bike luring
in all the strays
We met when I drank too much tequila and ate
onion rings at the diner where the man promised
they weren’t fried in the same oil
as the chicken fingers
We met when I glued eyelashes to my lids even
though I’ve always gotten compliments on the
ones that are already there
We met when I was mixed up with things I
didn’t know the consequences of unsafe
sex in bathroom stalls and blowjobs on
counters of restaurants where you julienned
the perfect carrots

“WIN $5000” by Julia at Platform 7 Coffee Brew Bar


Thursday, March 24, 2016 at Platform 7
2:36pm
5 minutes
from a nofrills receipt

Leda sends me a photo of her vagina and asks if I have the same rose-looking ‘thing’ on mine.

I send her back an image of a desert and tell her there are no flowers blooming here. You don’t use it you lose it. Pft. Everything turns to dust.

She texts back a hands up emoji, praising my perfect timing and accurate representation of whatever my sorry situation is right now.

I text her asking why she’s asking about her rose-thingy and use many ellipses to demonstrate that I have been left hanging and my curiosity is in fact sparked.

She texts back a photo of our matching tattoos and says she wanted to know if she should be worried or if we were fine.

I text Leda saying that I’ll get back to her but if it doesn’t hurt, it’s probably fine?

She texts back asking for a picture of my vagina to confirm that our genes are fine.

I text back a photo of Audrey II from Little Shop of Horrors.

“Glottal stop” by Julia at her dining table


Friday, January 29, 2016
9:28pm
5 minutes
From an email

I remember his tongue like I remember my favourite song. His words were different when he was tired or when he was mad. I loved to see him mad. It made me wet. I want to explain that but I can’t. It just turned me on so fast I couldn’t hide it: flush to the cheek, quiver in my breath. He never knew that. I never told him. I didn’t want to ruin it, or put pressure on it. It was like my own dirty little secret, and you know what they say about two people keeping a secret…I sometimes think about his anger when I’m trying to get off with someone who doesn’t know what he’s doing. It takes all my focus and I have to picture him saying the right words, pausing in the right places. It’s very difficult remembering something that happened 12 years ago. But I know I can count on it so it’s always worth the struggle. I think back on the way he spit out his Ks and cradled his Ss before unleashing them all, wild and loud.

“Imagine having fantastic sex with him or her” by Julia in her bed


Wednesday, January 13, 2016
11:58pm
5 minutes
Instant Enlightenment
David Deida


I am giving couple’s counselling to my parents. Well to my mother. My father is in the other room and we are pretending he doesn’t hear us or know that his kid and his wife are “discussing” him. This is partially on purpose. If he thinks we think he can’t hear us he might listen harder and think to himself, “hmm, I’d like to try that so when I do, it will seem like my idea and things will be better without needing to talk about it.” It is also so it looks like the advice is being given to my mother alone, when really my father can take from it what he needs, even if he doesn’t act on it. My mother nods her head and says, “You’re right, you’re right” a lot. I am not having this conversation so I can be right, and usually when someone says that it means they just don’t like the response they were given. But she is still listening and I am still talking so either way, we’re having this conversation whether things change or not. I am inside my head and well outside my body at the same time. I am separating myself from being her daughter and talking to her like I would my patients. Or my would-be patients. I am practicing my skills on someone who is not paying me yet, because I need to get good at telling all kinds of people to “imagine having fantastic sex with him or her.” So far I have said, “love is your only objective,” which seems to be working.

“with the theme of fear” by Sasha at the table at Pascoe Rd.


Monday November 9, 2015
1:17pm
5 minutes
ionmagazine.ca

The night she dies I get a text from a bartender
I sometimes fuck
I wash my
face I get on my
bicycle and I go to
his house
On the way
Somewhere east of Dupont
My chain falls off
I can’t stop the tears
Can’t stop the oil from getting
on my dress
I arrive too close to morning
too far from my father
He lights a joint and the promise
I made to myself not to tell him
Undoes like the clasp of my bra
Naked I’m a puddle of chipped nail polish and
missing
He’s a father so he knows
how to soothe
He rubs my back until I’m hiccups and
when we fuck he’s gentle
he knows just how to look me
in the eye
I leave before I can feel grosser before
I can taste the tinniness of shame
My tongue heavy in my mouth I sing
under my breath
Up the hill on the way
home

“But it clearly manifests itself” by Julia at her desk


Thursday October 29, 2015
8:19pm
5 minutes
The Real Terror Network
Edward S. Herman


She was taking secret sips from her mickey of Beefeater and had herself convinced that nobody could tell. They don’t care about me. They’re not even looking at me. And though she was actively believing herself, she couldn’t help but wish it wasn’t true at the same time. She knew that gin was her body’s vice so she chose it on purpose. She couldn’t handle it in even small doses, so this, she concluded, was an experiment. A waiting game stretched out, or turned into Chicken. She wasn’t going to be the first to give up, to quit, to get scared off. As her sister got up to the podium to make her big speech, she had her fingers gripped tight around the neck of the bottle inside her purse, ready to go.

“I feel so dirty.” by Julia at JJ Bean


Wednesday October 28, 2015 at JJ Bean
8:10pm
5 minutes
A Thin Green Mist
Robert Shaw


He stands at the window. She ducks beside him.

Do you think they can see us?
No. Don’t even say that.
Well they could!
No they could not. Stop.
You know they could, come on, that’s part of the fun…

He slips his hand down the front of her blouse.

Adam.
What, I’m just participating. It’s what they want…

He nibbles on her ear.

Adam..
Mhm…
I don’t know if I can…
Mhm…
Shit! They just looked over here!
Good. Let them watch. That’s what we’re doing.
I don’t want them to know I’m watching!
I kind of like it…

She runs to turn the light off.

Good call.
They’re really going at it, huh.

He unbuttons her blouse slowly.

Mhm…

“I wanna see it up close” by Julia at 49th Parallel


Friday October 17, 2015 at 49th Parallel
11:41am
5 minutes
from a text

Carl grabbed the giant daddy long legs with a rubber band and squished it between his fingers. I looked at him with my mouth hanging all the way to the floor.
“What did you do that for?”
“What, it was a daddy long legs!”
“I know what he was, but why did you do it!?”
“It was crawling everywhere. It was going to get into our salad.”
“Screw the salad!”
“Words I never thought you’d ever say…”
“Carl!”
“WHAT?!”
“You killed an innocent little thing for absolutely no reason.”
“You would have let him live in our dinner?”
“Yeah. Maybe I would have. It’s not like he was trying to ruin our meal, Carl.”
“Well, what’s done is done. It’s too late for your bleeding heart to do anything about it.”
“Ugh. You’re such a…never mind.”
“A what, say it.”
“A caveman.”
“Oh my god, Trace, it was a stupid daddy long legs!”
“Tell that to your penis later.”

“Thin love ain’t” by Sasha in her kitchen


Monday, October 12, 2015
3:33pm
5 minutes
from a quote by Toni Morrison

Spread the butter on thick how I like it
We’re counting orgasms not calories
This love is bigger than pluto
Bigger than clouds
Bigger than the breath between the fall and winter

You’re grabbing at my knees
Tickling the space between present and future
Ear pressed against my belly
Listening for the rising moon

“agreed-upon sex date” by Julia on her patio


Friday, August 14, 2015
2:11pm
5 minutes
From http://thehairpin.com/2015/08/today-is-the-12th-anniversary-of-the-big-blackout/

Me and Matthew are intimate with each other on average 6 times a week. Before you grab your shit to egg my house or something, you should know that I don’t just mean sex. Phew. Collective exhale. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we fuck like rabbits and we do that a lot too (Woah, easy…) but plain intimacy is harder for us so we have to schedule that in. Now I’m not saying this is how it should be. But we’ve figured out a way to stop taking sex personally and to stop measuring our value as a couple (or our self worth) by the act. We still struggle with making time for us to stare into each other’s eyes for an extended period of time, or sit in silence without other stimuli creeping in. It’s taking a long time. So we pencil it in and we work on it.

“Me time” By Julia in Brooklyn


Sunday, August 2, 2015
2:30am
5 minutes
Facebook

Jonette had her long chestnut waves draping down her body so only her breasts were perfectly covered. She looked like a pre raphaelite painting. She looked like she had just stolen the ease of the sun. She was laying across the couch as if she just always did this. She could have had a book, or a magazine. She could have had a bowl of angel hair pasta dripping in olive oil and parmigiana.

“I met my first savant 52 years ago” By Julia on the A train


Saturday, August 1, 2015
3:30am
5 minutes
http://blogs.scientificamerican.com

I didn’t want to meet him. I wasn’t really in the position of meeting someone outside my own brain let alone someone outside my own comfort zone. I tried to be sweet but I came off as this precious little bitch with an agenda and a superiority complex. He was kind. He played me the song he wrote on his banjo and asked me if I thought if sounded genuine enough. I couldn’t lie to him so I told him it sounded like heaven and I wished he’d never stopped to ask me about something I was clearly already thinking about. I hate when people push their shit on you. I didn’t really know sweetness. What I knew was that he cared about my opinion and what I knew was that he didn’t actually need to hear what my true one was. That should have been enough of a warning sign but I stuck around anyway. I waited till he sent me a photo of him wearing army pants to call it off.

“She expected me to be in jeans” By Julia in Brooklyn


Friday, July 31, 2015
2:17am
5 minutes
from Sasha’s transcriptions

As if to say I had already fucked everything up for everyone, she looked straight down her nose at me and slightly shook her head. Not a full shake. Just enough to really shame me and make me wish I hadn’t needed to even come. Stevie was on the other side of the lounge and she was sending over her best “Sorry, Delia” eyes. I think at one point she mimed tightening a noose around her neck out of solidarity but even she knew she had no idea what hell I was in. Stevie happened to meet one of the suitors who liked her care-free, dress-code breaking, entirely beautiful, but way too young looking face and had told the monitor that Stevie was free to remain as she was. I on the other hand didn’t get so lucky.

“I wake in the middle of the night” by Sasha at Moksha Yoga Vancouver


Wednesday, July 8, 2015 at Moksha Yoga Vancouver
9:11pm
5 minutes
from Between Gods
Alison Pick


I wake in the middle of the night and he’s got me by the throat. He’s playing around of course, don’t get the wrong idea.

“You’re a koala when you sleep. You look like a baby koala,” he says, whisper-breathed.

Groggy, I rub sleep from my eyes and roll on top of him. “What time is it?” I say, kissing his stubbled cheek.

“Who cares!” He grabs my ass.

We’ve only known each other twenty weeks. We moved in together after three.

“Oh Cassie,” my mother said. “You’ll get yourself in a real pickle!”

The first time we had sex I was hit with a bout of hysterical laughing part way through. Maybe it the sounds he made, maybe it was delirious fatigue, maybe it was that I loved him but I didn’t know what to call it, so it came out like laughter.

He started laughing, too. We had to stop, we were laughing so hard. He said my “vagina muscles were strangling his wang,” so I climbed off of him and just kept laughing.

“nasal congestion” by Julia at Grange Park


Friday, June 26, 2015
5:45pm
5 minutes
NETI: Healing Secrets of Yoga and Ayurveda

I can hear her blow her nose through the wall. Thin ass walls, the realtor conveniently forgot to mention. My husband’s obsessed with her. Whenever he hears her go out onto her patio he somehow gets struck with an urgent need for”fresh air”. He goes out there so he can ogle her and imagine what colour her underwear is. He thinks he’s being so slick but I know what he’s doing. He just assumes I’m none the wiser because I don’t say anything. I guess I don’t quite know how I feel about it. Do I care? Do I even mind? When he goes outside for his fantasy time, I have the house to myself and I forget about him completely. It doesn’t even bother me when he goes out because that alone time feels so good. It’s when he comes back in I can’t stand: adjusting himself and quickly thinking of something to say that will convince him, and he thinks me, that he wasn’t just outside wishing he could stay there.

“nasal congestion” by Sasha outside of Banyan Books


Friday, June 25, 2015 outside of Banyan Books
11:41am
5 minutes
NETI: Healing Secrets of Yoga and Ayurveda


You’re ready. You’ve got a bottle of Grapefruit Perrier and a small bag of peanut M & M’s, poured into a pink teacup because you’re classy like that. You even blew your nose so that all your senses could be in their most tip top shape. You turn up your screen brightness and adjust the volume just in case there’s any video content. You know your route, your map, your lily pad path on which you’ll jump. You’ll hit up exactly two ex-boyfriends, but that’s just the warm-up, like a quad stretch or a neck roll. Then, you’re ready for the big leagues. The Ladies. First, the ex-girlfriend of an ex-fuck buddy. She’s so political. She’s so colourful and always has impeccable, stylish but not too stylish haircuts. She’s vegan. You eat exactly twelve M & M’s on her pages (Facebook settings are private, so quick! On to Twitter and Tumblr!), and then feel guilty and dump the rest in the compost. Next, the sister of your best friend from grade three. She’s a violinist. She’s in a band. She blogs while they’re on tour and one time you definitely had sex with the drummer so it’s a nice way to keep tabs! No! Big! Deal! You feel shitty about the fact that you called him drunk two years after sleeping with him ONCE and try to fish the M & M’s out of the compost. #FAIL

”Many people want love to function like a drug,” by Julia on the 505 going east


Monday, June 15, 2015
4:48pm
5 minutes
A quote by bell hooks

Do me fix me haunt me lick me
i want that kind
that sticky kind
that getting matted in your hair kind
tangled in your feelings
watching a parade
dare me wear me tear me care me
i want that kind too
that exposed kind
that open and vulnerable scary and beautiful kind
accepting and overwhelming
sitting side by side at the river
ease me lift me tease me shift me
i want that kind
that vibrant kind
that moment intensifying everything is interesting kind
promises projected in each other’s eyes like a private motion picture show

“I’ve got to go” by Julia on her patio


Sunday May 24, 2015
8:17pm
5 minutes
When I’m away
The Colourist


Adrienne and Lara were sitting on the bar stools in Adrienne’s parents’ basement. Only Lara’s chair swiveled and Adrienne secretly wished Lara wasn’t on it.
“I want to talk about sex,” Lara suddenly announced.
“Uhh..I don’t know–”
“I think I have to lose my virginity by the time I’m 16. I have to or I’ll just die. ”
Adrienne was uncomfortable. She had made a pact with her cousin, Tina, that they’d both wait until..well..they were older. They briefly discussed holding out for college.
“Didn’t you hear me, Age? What’s your year?”
“Yeah. Same. 16. Or I’ll just die…”
Lara was spinning around and around. Adrienne watched as her anger grew.

“GOOD BOY!” By Julia at George Brown Theatre School


Tuesday, April 13, 2015
7:01pm
5 minutes
Overheard at Kits Beach

He strokes the skin right behind my ears. Tells me I’m soft, but I’m hiding it. He takes his tongue to the edge of where is expected. He lightly drags it up my neck to my ear lobe. He pauses. He whispers. “You taste like sunset.” He continues. My earlobe is in his mouth now, the softness being swallowed, chewed, ignited. Tells me I don’t have to be afraid of magic. I start to tell him I’m not–he devours me whole. “Shhh” he croons. “Don’t fight it. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” I try again, “I’m not afraid. I’m fine.” He groans in a gentle way, holding my head up with his thumb and forefinger.

“Is it coffee time yet?” by Sasha on Sarah’s bed in Abbotsford


Sunday, April 5, 2015
11:14pm
5 minutes
Overheard at the bus station in Kitchener

She ties the rubber in a knot and flicks the white liquid. She scrunches her nose. She adds it to the jar. Thirty five. She texts Bec. “Up yer game bitch”. Flat Face Pug Man was completely quiet when he came. His Flat Face barely changed. She’d watch them, all of them, number six through til now, focused on the tiny muscles around their eyes, the purse of the lips, the flexing biceps.

“Thank you for using Bell, how may I help you today?” She gulps from her coffee mug. “Nancy?” She recognizes the voice. Her heart drops, a bomb in her stomach. “Hold please…” She crawls under her desk and sucks her thumb. Chris finds her like that, three hours later. “Are you okay?” She nods. Her phone vibrates on the cubicle desk above her head. “It’s from Bec,” says Chris, getting down on his knees and taking her face in his hands.

“we are in a war to the death” by Sasha in the air


Wednesday February 18, 2015
10:30am
5 minutes
The War of Art
Steven Pressfield


When we found the wreckage
we weren’t sure what we were seeing
Arms there
And eyelashes
Fingers and collarbones

You made a joke about the apocalypse
I ate a chocolate bar
We had sex
The sky was purple and grey

We are in a war
Death is there
Yes
And so is the morning

Fires burn low
Bright like when we used to dream about
Hollywood
You’re skeptical of kindness

“initiates sexuality” by Julia on Katie’s couch


Friday December 19, 2014
1:47am
5 minutes
Can Love Last?
Stephen A. Mitchell


Heat in the garage
Said meet me there said wait for me there
Crept inside knowing it would be dark
Said join me there said find me there
Cold cold heat
Cold heat cold
A note in the garage
Said ready for me here said ready for me here
A light touch grazing my arm
Said I want you here said I need you here
Silk robe hitting the pavement
Said I crave you here said I take you here
A hot kiss on my mouth
Said I eat you here said I drink you here

“to listen to when feeling nostalgic” by Julia at her desk


Tuesday November 25, 2014
1:23am
5 minutes
from a YouTube comment

No, no, I’ve learned by now that I shouldn’t be allowed to be left alone..Not with chocolate. Ok, fine, Deena, not with THE salted caramel chocolate. In the BARS, alright? Because, Deena, don’t. No, cause I don’t want to be forced to admit something. I know who I am, obviously. What am I supposed to say that it’s better than sex? WHO WOULDN’T SAY IT IS? You even would say that it is. And I know this because I see the way your face narrows when you hear me describing it. You’d like to think very much that I believe you’re jotting down notes and observations and judgments about my dependency but I know you’re just drawing one big O and tracing it over and over again. You’re a little hypocrite. There’s no such thing as just one piece, everyone KNOWS THAT, DEENA.

“Our human lives seem to unravel” by Sasha at Momento


Friday September 12, 2014 at Momento Coffee House
8:04am
5 minutes
from Thunder and Lightening by Natalie Goldberg

I hear you giving advice and I wish you’d take some of what you give. That was mean. I apologize. You do, you do take some. You take a lot… I just wish you took one particular thing that you give, one particular drop of… You know what, nevermind. It’s dumb when I talk when I’m mad. It never ends well for any damn person. Especially this one, especially me. You come home and you look at me like “Where’s dinner?”/”Why are you so fucking sad all the time?” You look at me like you didn’t have a good day. You look at me like you might want sex later but you might not, especially if we eat big plates of pasta. Nothing worse than pasta sex. Please don’t pour yourself a drink. That complicates things further.

“A passionate hot blooded woman” by Sasha on her couch


Monday May 26, 2014
12:32am
5 minutes
from the ‘Julia’ candle

My palms are sweaty and I think I might’ve accidentally worn yesterday’s underwear. Don’t ask me how that happens! Sometimes it does, okay!? “So, Samantha…” Doctor Bald says (his name has been changed to protect his privacy), “what brings you to the birth control clinic this fine May morning?” He’s smug. He’s looking like he woke up to a blowjob and some yeasted waffles. Motherfucker. “I, uh, I think I might have a… I need a prescription for the pill.” He smiles like someone is giving him a really good foot massage. I look down. No one. Shit. “Okey-dokey, Samantha. Now have you been on birth control before?” “Yes, no… I don’t know… Kind of? I’ve used condoms.” I hate that word. It makes me feel twelve. “Never have you embarked on the hormone based birth control?” “Nope…” He strokes his chin, like, like, he cannot believe that a twenty nine year old woman has never taken a fucking A Lesse tablet. “Hm…” He says, looking me up and down.

“lust and power” by Sasha on the Lansdowne bus


Wednesday May 7, 2014
5:13pm
5 minutes
From the WorldStage program of Mies Julie

I catch your eye and there are all the unspoken things we wish we could capture with a camera, we try to, we try our best, but most of the time we fail.
You walk towards me and you hold my gaze and I look away because I know who you are and that scares me.
“You worked on the last Sullivan feature, right?” You ask.
Suddenly, things that were clear are blurry.
Suddenly, I’m naked and you’re naked and we’re laughing and kissing and moving like animals.
“Yes,” I sip my beer.
“Yes…” You smile.
You’re older than I’d thought.
You’re shorter than I’d realized.
You touch my forearm and I get goosebumps on my thighs.
“I’m staying at the Hilton,” you say, and I forget that I have to be on set at five tomorrow morning, and I forget that my dog has probably already peed on the kitchen floor.
“Oh?” I say.
We go there and we talk (you talk) and I open a bottle of champagne (I drink).
You’re less sexy when we’re naked.
You’re clumsy.
You say that you’re jet-lagged.
I think about all the women that fantasize about sleeping with you.

“All the animals are laughing at us” by Julia at the Marriott in Providence RI


Sunday May 4, 2014
9:22pm
5 minutes
Aeolus
Freelance Whales


It made me laugh that you told me, Sh shh, baby, don’t be so loud, the animals will hear you, and then you put your finger to your lips as if I must recognize the universal signal for Please Shut The Fuck Up.
I couldn’t help it. In fact I hoped they did hear us. In the meeting place for animals being animals to hear or even witness two other animals being animals. I can’t remember whose idea it was to do it right there in the forrest, but either way neither of us had ever done it and we were both pretty into it. I mean, you were very much consumed with the idea that we were intruding or that we’d be disrupting the squirrels or whatever. Who cares! I yelled out at the top of my lungs, just to bug you. You threw your hands up in the air and shook your head, looking around frantically for signs of life, nature, or punishment. Baby, get over it, we’re doing the nasty in a forrest! That’s awesome! Stop wrecking it! And then you laughed for the first time and held my face in your hands and said, We are the most adventurous couple that ever lived! I was like, Yeah, that’s the spirit, now push me up against this tree. You tried doing it but you then couldn’t get over the part where the tree might be a bit pissed off that we were using her as a sex post.

“The play you are about to see” by Julia on her couch


Monday February 24, 2014
11:15pm
5 minutes
The Laramie Project
Moises Kaufman


full of wonder, of joy, of mystery. opens her heart, her legs, her life. there he goes, skipping across the landscape of her body. does he notice her there yet? does he see that she isn’t present, not even a little bit? she shuts it off, shuts him in, and leaves him for dead in all that exploring. all that discovering. full of wonder, of joy, of mystery. little boy, he’s a little boy. he runs back and forth without a destination. he doesn’t care if there or here is the prize. his prize is in the running. and when he doesn’t know any better? he runs even faster. didn’t know what it would feel like. didn’t understand what it would mean. if she up and left her body there, took her mind, but left her body there. left him behind, didn’t ask if he wanted to come. didn’t seem like she wanted him to go with her anyway. when he notices, then it will be a day of hardship. when he recognizes what she did, he’ll fall a little inside his own body and wish so bad that he was not left alone there. those thoughts, too grown up for him to deal with. those dreams, too shattered for him to reassemble them all. full of wonder, of joy, of mystery. both of them started out that way. opens her heart, her legs, her life. both of them started there too.

“Don’t stare at The Nude.” by Julia at Saving Gigi


Wednesday January 29, 2014 at Saving Gigi
12:20pm
5 minutes
God Loves Hair
Vivek Shraya


I had to revert my eyes. I had to force myself to think of things that deliberately grossed me out: polenta, mushy polenta, rice pudding, candy corn, creamed corn, any corn, vomit, cat vomit, parsnips, cigarette butts in water, sidewalk hork, discharge, eye gunk on a man, unroasted pig ears, food stuck in a beard. I was worried that if I even enjoyed him for a millisecond I was going to cum. I blame it on not getting my lady mane stroked in over 4 months and the first naked penis to make my acquaintance just so happened to be beautiful and maintained and directly in front of my eyes. Or my vag. It really could have been in front of either.

“they forgot they had committed a crime” By Julia at Rustic Owl Cafe


Monday, November 18, 2013 at Rustic Owl Cafe
2:34pm
5 minutes
Urban Myth the board game

She was so loud I could have killed her. I don’t throw that word around lightly, I mean, I’m a good person, I swear. But she awakened something in me that no one ever has. And maybe it’s because I watched an episode of Dr. Phil last night where a woman was threatening to kill a six year old “demon child” and she seemed totally justified in her struggle. This woman, though. Her voice was penetrating my head phones–just talking in such a slow and shrill way it made me feel like I was at the dentist. I don’t think I’m actually capable of murder. No, not really. But the idea was a fun one. It made me feel alive again, and honest, which, full disclosure, my usual meds don’t let me feel. I’m not saying that because I’m being treated for things that I should be allowed to have these thoughts…I told you, I’m a good person. But when you don’t even smile when a baby waves at you, you welcome any kind of stimulus that luckily makes its way to your heart. Killing isn’t exactly the fuzzy-wuzzies, or the nurturing instincts that kick in when we’re talking about children. But the dream of it, the fantasy? God I gotta tell you, it gets me going even better than sex.

“You can grow” by Sasha at the AGO


Thursday, September 19, 2013 at the Art Gallery of Ontario
6:12pm
5 minutes
From the front page of the Toronto Metro Wednesday, September 11, 2013

I listen with my ear against the wall. They’re talking about Betsy and how she’s smoking weed and having sex with strangers. They seem more concerned about the former than the latter. I’m more concerned about the diseases inside her, all over her, the hands touching her, the tongues tasting her, the faces pressed up against hers. I haven’t had a real conversation with Betsy since she started hanging out with the Gases. That’s what they call themselves. I don’t get it. They must have told her something about how I wasn’t cool enough, I wasn’t bad enough, I would try to tell her what she was doing was wrong. Betsy and I are only seventeen months apart but you’d never know it. At least, not anymore. People used to think we were twins, but when my hair turned curly and I got glasses, they suddenly thought I was babysitting.

“Tom, will you let me love you in your restaurant?” By Julia at Dark Horse on Spadina


Saturday, June 22, 2013 at Dark Horse Espresso Bar
6:48pm
5 minutes
Litany
Carolyn Creddon


If you could sweep away the dirty dishes, throw me onto the bar and tell me I was yours, I would be okay with that. Let you use my body to wipe the tables, pushing the salt and pepper shakers onto the floor with no regard for broken glass. That would be just fine. Pull the Amsterdam on draft out into a steady stream, letting it pour all over us as we try to get some of it in our mouths. That would be exciting, don’t you think? Covered in beer and sticky and soaked through. My white top, obviously, a skin plastered mess that you leave on me while you drink from my shirt pocket. The lights can be on or off. Your choice. I don’t need to decide that one. And when we’re close, and we will be more than once I guarantee it, we’ll ring the tiny bell on the pass and yell “Chicken’s up”. That would be just…. I’ll put on your chef hat and your apron with nothing else, and walk around the kitchen with a spatula and a whistle. Tell you to say “Yes Chef” and you would because how could you not?

“That was my first personal encounter” by Julia on her couch


Saturday, May 18, 2013
8:31pm
5 minutes
Some Freaks
David Mamet


He and I, remember Andy? Didn’t like to be called Andrew, God knows why. I tried, Sal, I did. I used to say, Andrew my love, to disguise it and he would see right through me like a piece of plastic wrap on a bowl of cold noodles. Anyway, Andy and I, we met that day on the bridge because my car stalled and he was the only nice son of a bitch to stop and help me. I was losing my mind about it and he kept me real calm. So then he asked what I was on my way to and if maybe I wanted to grab a coffee with him. I was sort of amused that he thought I was just driving on the bridge and had all this free time in the world to grab coffee with a complete and utter stranger! Anyway I told him, remember what I said? I told him, You can call me tomorrow afternoon and ask me out for a proper date! That’s what I said, Sal! It’s true, don’t act like I made that up; you can’t write that shit, you know you can’t! Then he did call me. Remember? The next day, at the strike of noon like he was waiting there all morning for it to be “afternoon” so he could call. And that night we ate at, uh, what’s that place? Well good thing I don’t remember because we didn’t last thirty seconds before we snuck off to the bathroom and he fucked me against a urinal! I’m sure those snobby bastards won’t want to see me again anyway!

“from lips to hips” by Sasha at her desk


Tuesday, April 2, 2013
11:32pm
5 minutes
Sandpaper
Satish Verma


I want it to go faster. “Faster,” I say, breathless, breath high, breath low, breath on your cheek, in your ear. “Stop being so bossy,” you respond, sweaty, face so close I can smell your morning coffee, consumed quicker than a mudslide. “I’m not,” switch positions, I’m o top now, “You told me you like it when I tell you what I want…” You close your eyes. Are you tuning me out? Tuning into the feeling in your gut, in your toes, in your places I can’t quite touch yet. “Stop fucking talking,” you say, but soft, but slow, but almost warm. I think about why we broke up, how we broke up, your face looking like the full moon when we broke up. “I love you,” you say. Shit shit shit shit shit. This wasn’t supposed to happen, no one was supposed to fall, backwards.

“He’s made sex about” by Sasha at R Squared


Monday, December 17, 2012 at R Squared
11:21am
5 minutes
Using Sex Tape of Ex is Downright Insulting
Toronto Star, Monday Dec. 17, 2012


He’s made sex about all of his unresolved issues with his… body,” she spits out the last word like a watermelon seed and it lands on the coffee table. I watch it, “body”, sitting so carefully on top of the National Geographic. I want to say something but I don’t want to council her, a bad habit I’m trying to give up for Lent, or my thirtieth birthday, I haven’t decided. “Maybe sex is about the body…” I pick up the small black seed and put it in my own mouth, tasting hers, it’s kind of erotic, but maybe that’s just because we’re already talking about sex and I’m sort of turned on. “He never takes his shirt off! Do you know how dumb guys look naked from the waist down?” I slowly spit the seed into my hand and decide that later tonight I’ll take the streetcar to your house and plant it in your front yard.