“They would tell everyone” by Julia at her desk

Thursday, April 12, 2018
8:14pm
5 minutes
Audience of One
Rob de Boyrie

We can’t tell anyone because they would tell everyone.
Some things are better left secret:
all of our best-laid plans for a baby and her sister
the house we bought with our romance novel money
I am still reminding myself this is better
to wait until it’s done before I say it out loud
they wouldn’t let it be what it is if they opened their
big dumb mouths to name it
diminishing it with all that outside tongue
The photographer man told me this first
Years ago he wrote it on the front page of my moleskine dayplanner
“Not every single thing needs to be said.”
Maybe it wasn’t that exactly, but the sentiment was there
We can’t tell anyone that we’re swimming the Mississippi River
that we’re moving our butts to South Beach

“famous for flying around”by Julia in her bed

Wednesday February 14, 2018

2:38am

5 minutes

Anthony’s Glass Eye

Billeh Nickerson

Today he was wearing a giant crystal dangling on a thin leather rope. It was so close to his Adam’s apple I thought he was going to slice it right off. He told us all that his ukulele was a lesbian and that he used to be a winged thing in the life before this one.

I know that feeling. Of wanting to share everything inside my skull. But I don’t do it because I’ve seen what happens when you’re candid with everyone. They can’t handle the honesty. It makes them squirmy.

The person beside me was breathing so consistently and heavily that it started to activate my anxiety. I had to keep catching my own breath and plugging my one ear. If I had been honest I would have gotten in trouble for asking them to please try breathing with their mouth open or not at all.

“Lipstick on your arsehole” by Julia at her desk


Thursday July 6, 2017
11:33pm
5 minutes
Dry Lips Oughta Move To Kapuskasing
Tompaon Highway

Tamara Matthews you better have a good reason why you’re late.
I do, but you definitely don’t want to hear it.
Sounds like an excuse to me.
Alright, my butthole was bleeding this morning and I wasn’t sure if I was going to die or what.
Oh.
Yes. So. It’s fine now thanks for asking. I’m not, as it turns out, dying. I just wiped too hard, you know?
Thank you. I get it.
I mean it’s happened to me before, but less. I thought this was a hemorrhoid which is no picnic because when my ex-boyfriend had one once, sitting down made him cry.
Okay, okay, go sign in.
Will do, sir. Will do.


“I can’t really imagine” from an old journal” by Julia on Amanda’s bed


Tuesday December 27, 2016
11:07pm
5 minutes
from an old journal

That time you told me about the cops and highway 7-you know when you told me about when you got arrested or written up or ticketed or yelled at or blah blah blah? I listened to maybe half of it. Maybe 3/4ths because sometimes randomly they’d be different enough but for the most part you didn’t really care that you had told all your stories but didn’t hear any of mine. That’s okay. I’m not mad. I’m just thinking you owe me one. Cause I can’t imagine a time where you invite me over to your house and I end up just talking the whole time about me and all the times someone’s given me a dirty look or told someone they didn’t like me or something completely random like that time my friend Natalie pieced my ears in the 11th grade and the right one never really healed properly or blah blah blah. I don’t think you would have enjoyed yourself. I think you would have liked the chance to even interject maybe with an anecdote or a moment offering me something to drink to distract me.

“The worst kept secret” by Julia on her couch


Sunday August 21, 2016
10:26pm
5 minutes
lifehacker.com

Somebody told me once that discharge was called sperm. Okay it was my sister. We used to fight a lot. She was older. I wanted to do everything she did. I believed everything she told me. I was so confident in her that I never questioned a single thing she said. I admired her. Now we’re older and she tells me when things I believe about myself are just stories. She tells me when she hears me choosing not to love myself. I believe her. I know she doesn’t say things now to break me down. When we were young, she wanted to tease me. But maybe to see how much I could take. How much I would hear before I pushed back. It’s trusting someone outside yourself. She knows everything I’ve never told anyone else. She will always be the keeper of my secrets. She keeps the ones I like next to the ones I never will. She keeps them for me, but she forgets they’re there. She doesn’t see me through eyes of things I wish I didn’t do. She does not love on condition.

“bore you with another list ” by Julia on her Couch


Sunday August 14, 2016
9:25pm
5 minutes
theestablishment.com

1.I can’t apologize enough; I am always sorry for something
2.I buy the cheapest toilet paper because it’s the only kind that doesn’t stick to your bits
3.If I pass by a basil plant, I will steal a leaf off of it
4.If I pass by a rosemary bush, I will pluck as many sprigs as I can carry
5.Sometimes I cry for no reason
6.Sometimes I take long showers when I’m trying to forgive you
7.I drink from the carton and jar and double dip knives and cross contaminate condiments
8.I make lists of ways to be nicer to you
9.I sleep really well all things considering
10.I don’t feel good about all the things I don’t know

“Let’s discover our” by Julia on the 7


Saturday May 7, 2016
7:39pm
5 minutes
from a chef magazine

Let’s discover our soft spots
Our unwants
Our don’t touches
Our yes love this
Let’s discover our truth’s truth
Our hard lost youth
Our who’s who
Tell me about your day dreams
I’ll tell you about my nightmares
Tell me about your battle wounds
I’ll tell you about my big scares
Your scars
My empty jars
Your hopes
My nopes
Your yeses
My catch this
Let’s discover the good and the bad
The moments we never had
The memories that make us sad
The language that holds us together

“your comfort and ours” by Julia at the pastry shop on Davie


Saturday April 9, 2016
2:31pm
5 minutes
from an email

Sylvia stays over for a night puts her feet up on the coffee table cooks with Remi’s fresh herbs and his signature sauces drinks my wine and dusts my curtains sleeps in late forgets to hang the bath mat over the edge of the tub stays up late talks on the phone to her psychic friend hangs my photos irons my shirts tells Remi that she’s menstruating tells Remi how to tell me he loves me in sign language listens to me cry about my mother’s surgery holds my hand when I lie about hating my new dance class sleeps over again stays for a week and then another.

“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.

“Secret Sundays” by Julia in her bed


Thursday January 28, 2016
12:12am
5 minutes
A Mission Kitsilano business card

There’s a few of us who meet at dusk and always on Sundays. Meredith came up with the idea but had no real concept of how important it would become. None of us did. She came to me with the thought of gathering, combining energies, uniting, and giving offerings. Meredith thought it would be a nice gesture if she danced while I offered my singing to the powers that be; to the earth; to the sky. The others started joining us, Reemah with her prayers and Tilda with her tears. Our ceremonies last for sometimes 90 minutes. There is a lot of openness and engaging that none of us get elsewhere. The group is especially honouring of my offering and sometimes ask me to sing three or four times. I am good at creating safety with my voice: acting as an umbrella energy for all of our gifts to come together underneath and feel at home.

“You wanna build another house?!” By Julia at her desk


Tuesday December 8, 2015
11:46pm
5 minutes
overheard at Arbutus Coffee

I can’t move in with you anymore, Kev, it’s not going to work for me.
What do you mean, we just signed the lease, both our names are on it and everything.
I know.
Okay?
Yeah but I know myself too and I’m not going to be able to get on board with a commitment this size right now.
This is unbelievable.
What is? That I don’t want to live with you? I think of all people you should know how hard it is to share a house with you.
What?
Don’t pretend like this is my fault, you’re a difficult housemate, even you said that to me!
But you still signed the lease, you signed up for this whole thing with me. How are you just figuring out now that this is…that you’re not…I seriously can’t believe this is happening.
It is happening, though, so we need to both accept it and move on or something.
How do you not feel bad for completely fucking me over?
Wouldn’t you rather know this before we try to build a home together? Like this is good news, we won’t be blindsided later.
Blindsided?
I don’t know, poor choice of words I guess, but I’m not going to apologize for changing my mind.
So are you saying you don’t want to be with me either?
No, of course not, I’m totally not saying that. I feel like we’ll be better off if we just live in separate houses.

“the usual agreements” by Julia at Coco et Olive


Monday September 28, 2015 at Coco et Olive
3:56pm
5 minutes
Environmental Theatre
Richard Schechner


I have told myself (AT LEAST ONCE IN MY LIFE)the FOLLOWING:
1. I have a head of curls on me that can RIVAL FUCKING SHIRLEY TEMPLE. (It’s a glorious MANE and I’ve said this to myself three times in the last week)
2. You win some, you lose lots! (This used to pertain to softball. I used to think it would be a good yearbook quote. Now it’s just true for everything so why stop TRYING?)
3. I am the best looking person of my exact physical features that I know. (this is like saying, there is only one you, so you’re the best you! This one comes into play after smoking ALL THE WEED and holding my own face as I tremble at my own fragility)
4. I am smarter than I think I am (when I believe I’ve left my phone at home and only my phone has the power to save me on days where I feel like laying on the pavement outside my house until it FUCKING POURS)
5. You are growing. It hurts cause your heart is expanding in your chest and sometimes the room you’re in is too small for you. (This one more and more lately. When I write letters to myself. And I cry honest tears.)

“It has nothing to do with you.” by Julia on her couch


Saturday, August 22, 2015
9:50pm
5 minutes
Art & Fear
David Bayles & Ted Orland


When you come inside from dancing with the moon and making promises to her that you see the light she’s shedding and the path she’s illuminating just for you, your skin tingles with joy and recognition for the you she knows.
Your skin: The protector of your bones.
She is held together tight with a thousand promises just like the ones you made with your Moon Mother. And you can feel each one alive inside you, making their way down your veins to keep you warm.
You can’t live another way. You even feel tempted to shed the skin you’re in but she hugs your limbs in close and whispers, I’m Not Going Anywhere….I Still Know Your Insides.
If you don’t keep the dancing hot and perfect in your hair, and the pure boundless generosity you feel with every concentrated breath, then you might just live on in a different moment and you don’t blame yourself for that either.

“No not that fake smile!” by Julia on the subway going west


Friday, August 21, 2015
1:16pm
5 minutes
Overheard at a bus stop

Biddy and me make a pact to bleed each other’s blood and wear each other’s smile. I want to marry Biddy so I can be around her all the time and let her light wash over me and catch me in all the right moments. Biddy plays the violin and when she does the whole world stops. I do all the humming and Biddy plays so I can feel. She tells me that I’m most me when I open my mouth and let my heart sing out. She tells me she can see me growing into the person who’s taking better care of me. She tells me I’m the kind of woman who becomes more beautiful with age and experience and confidence and time. It’s my idea to combine our life force and Biddy smiles with her whole face because she loves all of my grand ideas. She snips a lock of her strawberry blonde curls and wraps it around my finger to remind me that we’ve got each other’s soul close by.

“She locked me in a room until I said a password” By Julia at her desk


Friday, August 7, 2015
12:03am
5 minutes
from a story on The Moth

Come on Sid, I said, face buried into the wall. I’m right here. Right beside you.
I don’t want to come out, she said.
You don’t have to, I told her. Don’t do anything you don’t want to do.
Do you hear that? She asked me. Whispering just loud enough to make out.
What do you mean?
I didn’t hear a thing.
The music. It’s beautiful..you don’t hear it?
Describe it to me, I said, leaning my head back toward her.
It’s like a snowflake, dancing, and spinning, and falling softly on a bed of rose petals.
Beautiful?
Yeah. You should hear it, Ray.
I’d like to.
You’d truly feel it, she said.
It’s okay, I told her, don’t worry about me.
It’s not something I can keep, she said.

“I’m on Prozac, did I tell you?” by Julia at the Toronto Reference Library


Friday, May 15, 2015 at the Toronto Reference Library
4:27pm
5 minutes
View From The Dome
Theresa Rebeck


Oh I didn’t tell you? I thought I told you. Cause somehow everybody knows so I thought you knew and I thought I told you. Well. I am. So now you know. Anything you want to tell me now? Any burning truths you want to share? Cause I didn’t share just so you would share but I did have a hope that it might open you up to if I went first.
But. No. You don’t reciprocate. And for the record I feel like I’ve made it quite easy for you, but no, that’s okay, everybody’s different, what’s mine is not necessarily yours. Your bag I mean. Your style. Your cup of tea. Your safe is locked tight, hey? Your ‘can’t keep it in anymore cause it’s corroding your insides’ stuff is not like mine–which actually does inflict physical pain on me if I choose not to purge.

“We can help you” by Julia on Nicole’s couch


Sunday August 31, 2014
11:29pm
5 minutes
a TD bank envelope

We want you to feel at home, so take the robe, take it all! Make some eggs, make them all! Don’t feel like you can’t walk around freely. Walk around naked! We do it! We love it. You’re our guest, so please understand how genuine we’re being about keeping you comfortable. It’s our mission. We’re so genuine about comfort it hurts. It does! You need undergarments? We have those! Go through our drawers! You need any creams or lotions? All yours. If you’re feeling peckish there is a jar of gefilte fish in the fridge that we’ve all been poking at so have at it! We can help you shed your cloak of armour and guarded nature. We can help you love who you are because we love who you are! Wanna pick your nose? Go get that gold! Wanna read our diaries? Please do! Wanna nose bleed on all our white sheets? DON’T FUCKING DO THAT. BLOOD IS REALLY HARD TO GET OUT OF THOSE SHEETS. Anything else? Anything else at all? Go ahead! We want you to! We want you to open yourself up and get out of your own way. Judgement free. This is a judgement free zone!

“lease holders and approved occupants” by Julia on her couch


Wednesday August 20, 2014
9:08pm
5 minutes
from an apartment memorandum

I feel a bit silly asking this, but do you think he wants me to stay for the winter? I’m only asking because we got this memo under the door today about getting new keys because the front locks were being changed, and he didn’t tell me about it. He like, hid the memo from me and I only found it because I was looking for the old memo from two days ago that said something about the drainage pipes. Why wouldn’t he invite me to stay long term? I feel like a summer fling all of a sudden, which is crazy right? He gave me a key for the summer and he’s going to give me a key for the winter too, isn’t he? Why would he all of a sudden not want me to get into his apartment easily? I feel like he’s going to be really annoyed with me calling all the time just to get inside the house we share, right? Well, we’ve been sharing it, I guess we don’t officially share it since my name is nowhere on the lease. I just thought, hey, I’m not a lease holder, fine, but I most certainly am an approved occupant! The residence manager has seen me a bazillion times while he’s watering the one plant in the front yard. I say hi to him every time I walk by even though he just stares at my boobs when he sees me. If anything, I’m an asset to this stupid building. Is that anti-feminist? Is this whole conversation anti-feminist? I’m just trying to figure out where I belong, you know? Well, no, not that desperately. I’m not begging for a key or anything. I’m not begging for a ring at all. I’m good with where we are. I’m good.