“Don’t tell her what?” By Sasha on her couch

Sunday December 3, 2017
11:26pm
5 minutes
The Humans
Matt Haig

Don’t sing me that song again
the one where the dress is ripped
and the lipstick is smeared
Don’t look me in the eye again

Baby I know that you’ve got blues in there
I’ve got blues here too
We’ve all got blues
We’ve all got the blues

Met a cowboy in the desert
Said he’d bring me a snakeskin harp
I showed him what was right and wrong
And skinny-dipped in mirages

It’s funny how in the blink of an eye
We’re back in time
Out of rhyme
Missing the fine ecstasy of dumb youth

“astral projection, stress and depression” by Sasha in the bath


Tuesday September 12, 2017
10:42pm
5 minutes
Binaural Beats & Healing Sounds on YouTube

No one’s here to help baby
No one’s here to help

Magic mushroom toast root bake festival
Astral projection
Stress and depression
Forests of consumerism
Extra large M’s and double D WHY’s
Shaking our devices in our sister’s faces
Shaking our devices so we can feel somebody
Find a chin hair shake a leg
Take a bow and call for help
9-1-1 is just a static
9-1-1 is just a dial tone

No one’s here to help baby
No one’s here to help

Cocaine snow angels
In the ashes of our mothers
Water tastes like urine and coffee
Coffee is urine
Urine is coffee
The land’s most trusted caregivers
Are gathered in a place made of cardboard
And needles and songs
Stress and depression
Coffins under the ground layer

No one’s here to help baby
No one’s here to help

“Rabies is a fatal disease” by Sasha at her desk


Friday August 18, 2017
5:39pm
5 minutes
Health Tips for Tropical Travellers

I don’t mean to rouse the masses
Or scare the babies
But rabies oh rabies it’s a fatal disease
Met you on a Friday
You wore a red bandana
You said your name was Winston
Okay I just named you Winston
And you oh yeah you
You gave me rabies
I said I want to put a leash on you
You said that’s really kinky
I said maybe you’ll run away
You gave me side eye
Ohh baby you can give me rabies
Any day
I’ve been immunized
Your bites won’t kill me
Only your brown eyes will
Only your licks will
I love you Winston

“When your music ends” by Julia on her patio


Sunday August 6, 2017
5:07pm
5 minutes
Spotify

That feeling when your guts are in your throat
when you want to breathe deeply but nobody will let you
the empty swallow that burns your chest
that makes you wish for more time or a disguise

The last song has to be a good one. Maeve and Alexis lay on the floor touching skulls, feet outstretched in opposite directions. Maeve has been planning for a long time and Alexis knows patience. She goes along hand in hand with everything. She is not a pushover. She just never gets tired. Maeve is close to tears. She doesn’t know which one to choose and everyone is putting their two cents in. Alexis has stopped suggesting options. Instead she lays there without thinking about the clock and lets her friend quietly cry.

“I’ll sing til morning” by Sasha in her bed


Monday July 10, 2017
11:32pm
5 minutes
Night, Mother
Marsha Norman


I’ll sing til morning I will I will
I’ll sing up high and I’ll sing so shrill
I’ll sing when the sun is high in the sky
I’ll sing my babe a lullaby
I was born to sing out loud and strong
I will sing all the right to all the wrong
And then sometimes we’ll sing together
Deep as the sea and light as a feather
When we sing we do it so free
that I become you and you become me
I’ll sing til morning I will I will

“a certain brand of peanut butter” by Sasha at her desk


Tuesday June 27, 2017
11:41pm
5 minutes
The Power Of Habit
Charles Duhigg


What do we have
we have a jar of peanut butter
we have Nescafe
we have all the will to
change this place for
the better
Oh the better
Oh the better
What do we have
we have tear-away track pants
we have water from the tap
we have the grief of forty two
years between us
What do we have
Oh the better
Oh the better
we have the better of this
the best of eachother

“The only thing we lack” by Sasha on her couch


Sunday May 28, 2017
2:19pm
5 minutes
A program from the Cultch

Today I rise from bed groggy
heart full of last night’s baring
dreams of children and quartz
eyes wide
rushing water
my sister’s hair
a walk in the woods
barefoot
I sit on the balcony
cradling tea and my thirty-first
cradling all that I have built
on this borrowed plot
I call my father
and he sings in a voice
that lands somewhere
before time
A hummingbird
lands on the tree with
the yellow blooms
Joy
Joy
Joy

“There were times when nothing played back.” by Julia at the VPL


Wednesday April 25, 2017
6:13pm
5 minutes
What It Is
Lynda Barry


My sister and I used to make up songs about jello and school and Days Of Our Lives. We’d improvise them with our neighbour and choose funny nicknames and put on terrible accents. I still remember my big one. I am proud of the word play. I am proud that at 9 I was already writing songs.
wiggily jiggily wiggily jiggily wiggily jiggily wiggily jiggily
Jello can be very jiggily
jello can be very wiggily
jello can be very very cool
jello can be all sorts of flavours
jello can be all sorts of colours
Ooooooooh–
(here’s where I bopped my sister on the head and told her not to take a solo because this was MY song.)
Strawberry, cherry
lemon, or lime,
jello can be very fruity
or even the pudding kind
wighily jiggily wiggily jiggily

(I didnt say the songs I was writing were good.)

“Judging your early artistic efforts” by Julia at Trees on Granville


Thursday April 20, 2017
2:20pm at Trees Organic
5 minutes
The Artist’s Way
Julia Cameron


The other day I found a note written on a teddybear notepad by my junior kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Beliveau. She signed her name with a heart in the ‘i’ and I remembered just how much I loved her-her and her soft nylons, and her “snot-free” desk (which I violated often and blamed on Justin Martens). The note was addressed to my parents telling them that I had a very nice first day of school: I painted a lot and loved story time (shocker), and sang a song for the class at Show And Tell (I remember this-I didnt bring something to show, like a doll or a toy I liked, so I made up a song and sang it for the class when it was my turn. Super shocker! Just kidding). I have always done this. Four year old me has always lnown this. Thirty year old me is grateful.

“How many nights” by Julia on her couch


Sunday April 16, 2017
7:57pm
5 minutes
Breach
Blair Trewatha


We mourn each day past with a song-we both cradle our heads at the month changing places, on a mission.
How many nights as children did we spend enjoying instead of worrying we were running out of time?
How many days did we write the date and think just how much can happen in a year?
This time we’ll sing (misty-eyed)
about the seasons; about the natural curve of the calendar
April come she will
April come she will

“I can bearly remember a thing” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Saturday March 25, 2017
10:15pm
5 minutes
From a fridge notepad

When this song comes on, it reminds me of you like that summer was last summer. It wasn’t. It was seven summer’s ago, and I didn’t even have a good time, mostly, but there’s something about you, there’s something about then, that catches like a bubble in my throat. I cough. Can I finally dislodge this? Can I finally blow you away?

I consider emailing you, with this song, in this coffee shop. But I don’t. I don’t need to write another chapter to that story.

“Can’t wait to share” by Sasha at her desk


Sunday January 8, 2016
6:42pm
5 minutes
From a card

If I bought you a chicken
you’d have fresh eggs for life
If I gave you a machete
you’d never need a knife
If I made you a tea
you’d soothe your sore throat
If I knit you a sweater
you wouldn’t need a coat
If I fried you an egg
you’d have a full belly
If I put on the peanut butter
you’d spread out the jelly
If I gave you my heart
you’d never want for a thing
If I gave you a ukulele
you’d just have to sing
If I found us a mutt
you’d name it Earl or Gus
And we’d walk everywhere
and never have to ride the bus

“A single breast winking,” by Julia on her couch


Monday February 29, 2016
11:32pm
5 minutes
FWD FWD
Robin Evans


In the shadow of chaos she emerges from her pain, long enough to sit up straight and shake off her darkest parts. Sinking in grungy bathwater, reeking of self hate and self punishment, she lets out a wail, a song of her finned underwater comrades. She is touching ocean floor and stratosphere. She is marking both sides of this earth so she can find her place in between them again.
Her mouth is opened and sound falls out like one last hope-one last plea. She is begging herself to save herself: No muskets, no smoke, no hugs, no rope.

“that’s a dumb simile” by Julia at Souzan’s apartment


Thursday, September 3, 2015
11:32pm
5 minutes
overheard on the street

compare her to the sky and she’ll melt before your eyes
with a softness in her curl
a smile unbeknownst to her

Draw her like the sea and she’ll grow until she’s free
with a calmness in her song
wisdom there all along

Dance her like the sun and she’ll be your warmest one
with a lightness in her face
shining in the world’s embrace

Love her like the night and she’ll always hold you tight
with a mystery in her touch
radiant gold-speckled hush

“But a song” by Julia at Ryan’s place in Calgary


Sunday, August 30, 2015
11:29pm
5 minutes
from a poem by Roy Croft

Sing to me little bird and I will count the promises on all the strands of hair on your head
I will love you forever
I will want you
I will help you
I will hold you
I will need you
I will please you
I will defend you
I will preserve you
I will encourage you
I will enjoy you
I will inspire you
I will charm you
I will disarm you
I will guide you
I will follow you
I will dare you
I will give you
I will remind you
I will kiss you
I will soothe you
I will understand you
I will accept you
I will protect you
I will learn you
I will study you
I will know you

“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.

“What is “beginner’s mind”?” By Julia in Brooklyn


Tuesday, July 28, 2015
11:11pm
5 minutes
from a tweet by Shambhala Sun

Set out on that journey with the wind whispering a farewell to your back
Let it make its way into your hair and dance there for a minute
Maybe two
Maybe three
She doesn’t want to hold you back or make you think you’re not ready
Only you know that
She just thinks goodbyes are important
You have your pencil sharpened and your pages born fresh and clean
Your long trek’s sword; your protector; your companion
Set out on that journey with the wind catching up to your skin
Let it make its way onto your face and caress you there for a minute
Maybe two
Maybe three
She doesn’t want to interfere or keep you from moving forward
You will do it anyway
She just thinks hello-agains are worth it

“supremely a task of communication” By Julia in Brooklyn


Monday, July 27, 2015
11:24pm
5 minutes
Audition
Michael Shurtleff


You say I miss you
I say I miss you back
But we’re throwing daggers baby
avoiding all of our feelings
I can’t stand the silence
So I lie to you instead
You can’t keep score
So neither of us will win
You say
You say I miss you baby
You say
You say I miss you baby
I wait for you to come home
And you rush to me from work
You sit in your car a little longer
So we’re stealing each other’s time baby
Avoiding what is true
You can’t stand the sound of my voice
So you make love to me instead
I can’t play pretend
So it hurts us both the same
I say
I say I miss you back baby
I say
I say I miss you back

“submitting this entry” by Sasha in the bath


Wednesday, July 22, 2015
11:24pm
5 minutes
From the Standardized Patient website

it takes time
oh it takes time
to decide
to come back
to look up up up
it takes time
oh it takes time
to unlearn the taste
to shake it loose
to smile at cracks
and
it takes time
oh it takes time
to learn something new
to learn something blue
to let the dust settle
oh oh oh
oh oh oh oh
it takes time
oh it takes time
to see all the colours there
all the blues there
all the truth there
all the brightness
it takes time
oh it takes time
to find the clearest water
to chase away the monsters
to listen to the wind
oh oh oh
oh oh oh oh
it takes time

“Just go in the direction where there is no direction” by Julia at her desk


Tuesday May 26, 2015
11:57am
5 minutes
Forbidden Rumi
Tr. By Nevit O. Ergin and Will Johnson


Like the wind, she speaks, she says
Oooh ooh, yes, yes
Calmly without rushing
No goal exists but to breathe in
every single moment
she whispers through my hair
Hums a day song worth remembering
Oooh ooh, yes, yes
And they say go where the wind blows you
And they say if you’re moved travel alongside her
I don’t know where she’s taking me
But I feel cradled in her billowy arms
And I feel welcomed by her carefree smile
Shhh shh, yes, yes
She reminds me to take time
She reminds me to inhale
and stop worrying
and exhale
and stop worrying
Shhh shh, yes, yes
I’m here for you until you get to where you’re going
Don’t run…
Glide
Don’t push…
Float
And the air is changed beneath me
And the air is changed right through me

“bowled over” by Julia on the 505 going west


Monday, April 20, 2015
11:34pm
5 minutes
from the Cultch Season Announcement

Mallory was listening to Sarah Harmer on repeat. She had this one song on the go that she just couldn’t stop playing. She may have had it on her New Year’s playlist for 2009 and it may have reminded her of her first love, Sean, though he probably didn’t even know who Sarah Harmer was. Sean was only slightly taller than Mallory and for the first time in her life she didn’t care that he wasn’t over 6 feet. She would have accepted anything about Sean because he had this cute way of swaying back and forth to a hidden track in his head. He was goofy and he was sweet, and he respected women because he had 4 sisters. He also moved away when things got real for them. Not just once, but twice. Mallory thought he’d come back just like the first time, but he didn’t. He wanted a simpler life. Not one that required breaking one’s heart open again and again.

“I was just, like, wondering” by Julia at her desk


Friday, April 10, 2015
11:39pm
5 minutes
Overheard at W Caffe

I’m always wondering
Where will I go
And if I should carry you
With me
Will I know?
I’m always wondering
What will I be
And If I should stay with you
Or leave
Will I see?
I’m always wondering
If I am strong
And if I should hold you close
To me
Will I be wrong?
I’m always wondering
What should I say
And if I can forgive you
For me
Would I fly away?
I’m always wondering
Is this the end
And if I can feel you
With me
Will our hearts mend?
I’m always wondering
Can I be great
And will you please free me
From you
Will I be saved?

“can’t go a day without” by Sasha at Kits Beach


Monday March 9, 2015
4:21pm
5 minutes
from a comment on YouTube

A small song

I can’t go a day without cracking my neck and my knuckles.
I can’t go an hour without clenching my teeth and craving coffee.
I can’t go a minute without deep breaths and laughter.
I can’t go a second without you you you.

I can’t go a day without peanut butter or yoga.
I can’t go an hour without laughing at the wrong time.
I can’t go a minute without heartbeats and a smile.
I can’t go a second without you you you.

“nothing has ever summed me up so succinctly” by Julia at her desk


Saturday March 7, 2015
12:54am
5 minutes
from a caitlinjstasey Instagram post

Put me in a bottle, ship me out to sea
I float along like a magic little oyster pearl
and I found the freedom there in a wave’s whisper
caught up real high in conversation
with the night
with the night
She sang “don’t come back again”
but I was long gone by then

Put me in an envelope and ship me out to sea
I bob along like a magic book inside of you
And I found the freedom there in a wave’s anger
Up up and away down
up up and away down low
Cause I would be a million miles away from me

Put me in a memory and ship me out to sea
I’ll crash along the shores all the way there
And I found the freedom there in a wave’s evening dress
she pulled out a letter saying
Who is this from? A letter to my soul…

How does she know
Just what I’m looking for?
And she was caught up real tight in conversation
about lost oyster pearls
With the night
with the night
with the night

“I’f I’m ever lonely” by Sasha on the subway going West


Saturday February 21, 2015
4:11pm
5 minutes
mirandajuly.com

If I’m ever lonely just send me out to sea
Floating on the water
All the fishes and me

If I’m ever lonely I won’t sing this song
I’ll sit in the dark quiet
Thinkin’ what else might go wrong

If I’m ever lonely I’ll make a pot of stew
I’ll chop up some onions
Nothin’ else will do

If I’m ever lonely I’ll lay in my bed
I’ll listen to the clock tick
And rest my weary head

“Pain has been described as a gift” by Julia at her desk


Monday February 23, 2015
3:06pm
5 minutes
alive magazine
February 2015


I’ll be there when you need somebody
Hold you close when your heart’s been hiding
I will tell you what is inside my bones
Until you feel safe again again
I’ll be near when your strength is over
Pick up the pieces of your broken soul
I will sing to you until you sleep easy
But what do I do when you don’t come to me
Can I sit alone and wait for peace to be
You don’t always want something that you can see
You think you’ve got it covered
But that’s when I believe
You need me
I’ll reach out even when it’s lonely
On the edge of me waiting hoping
I will stay here all night if I have to
Do it again the next until you feel moved to
let it go and build a home again again
Don’t worry I won’t give up
Don’t worry I won’t let it hurt you anymore

“If I’m ever lonely” by Julia at her desk


Saturday February 21, 2015
1:01am
5 minutes
mirandajuly.com

If I’m ever lonely, I’ll close my eyes and think of that day in April when I see you again. You’ll be ready to get out of the cold you’re trapped frozen in, and you’ll welcome the melting of all your icicles with thawing extremities. We have done this before. We have stood still in our distant lives and breathed in a time difference for months. Now good morning is still good morning, and good night is still good night, but my here is not your here and your here is not you’re here..
If I’m ever lonely, I’ll write you something sweet on the napkin beside my bed, hum the words to music and turn it into a song I sing inside my head to keep you close. You’ll ask if you can learn the chords that go with it so you can play your version on the other side of where I am.
We have done this before. We have loved from far away for days and days and days.

“heated rivalry and the jealousy” by Sasha in the Fredrick Wood Theatre


Friday February 6, 2015
9:35pm
5 minutes
http://www.mtv.ca

Winter is coming
Don’t look so blue
Winter is coming
What you gonna do?

Warmer here but colder too, in the damp way.
In the down to your bones and souls way.
Winter is coming
Don’t look so blue
Winter is coming
What you gonna do?

The crows know how to stay warm.
They caw with full bird breath.
They caw the warmth from the inside out.
Winter is coming
Don’t look so blue
Winter is coming
What you gonna do?

Mama run me a bath and don’t let me out.
Don’t drain the water til it’s morning.
I won’t drown, I won’t fall asleep,
I’m thinking about the Spring.
I’m thinking about the Spring.
Winter is coming
Don’t look so blue
Winter is coming
What you gonna do?

“this is the best place” by Julia on her bed


Wednesday February 4, 2015
10:29pm
5 minutes
castingworkbook.com

Shying away from the old heartache song
I don’t take too well to that kind of thing anymore
It hurts a bit in places that I didn’t know I had
So I let that tune play on elsewhere
I don’t tell it to stop cause I know it has to keep going
But I send it some peace so it knows It’s not personal
When I meet grace again, I’ll hum it softly
Maybe I’ll mouth the words
That’s when I’ll be able to have it quietly on repeat in the background
Underscoring my day to day
My dishes in the sink
My clothes on the line
My what ifs, if onlys
My midnight snack of whiskey and war

“You’ll be an architect” by Julia at her desk


Sunday February 1, 2015
1:09am
5 minutes
I’ll Keep You Safe
A song by Sleeping At Last


You’ll be an architect and I’ll be the moon…
You hummed those words to me like peach nectar dripping hot and sweaty summer morning.
I waited for you there underneath the pull of the skies and the heart of the perfect promise.
You said, I do, I do, I do, and I made sure you had enough daisies in your hair for the song.
You build it, I’ll come to you…
You sung it like a poem left in the rain dried by the fire, warm chestnuts basket and fill.
I held my tongue tight in my palms so I wouldn’t miss all the beauty slipping out of your mouth.

“All of it, kid.” by Julia on her bed


Saturday November 22, 2014
3:06am
5 minutes
From a first draft of a screen play

-You like Ray Charles? You like that song he pours his guts into?
-Georgia?
-Yeah, beautiful right?
-Yeah, the best.
-Everything is the best.
-Right now, yes. Let’s die like this.
-Dance for me first. Before we die happy and perfect, dance as if Ray Charles put music in your veins
-Like this?
-Mmm, yeah, like a little bird, flying high and from the inside out.
-I’m your little bird.
-I’m your biggest fan.
-Mmm.
-Let me lick you. You have no lines on your face. The smoothest skin, no lines at all.
-I’m young and I’m yours and I’m a little bird with Ray Charles blood.
-Mmm, yeah. We can die now.
-Some water first?
-Yeah, you drink then let me taste it from your lips.
-Feed you life…like little birds do…
-Yeah, you dance and feed me, little bird, little bird.

“Speeding through space…” by Julia at her kitchen table


Wednesday October 29, 2014
7:43pm
5 minutes
Leaves of Grass
Walt Whitman


Like a rocket on fire and a mission to complete
You go straight for the chest
Exploding it open
Right through to the heart
Pumping life blood
Pumping patience
You stare at it with the first quietness you’ve ever had
You watch it thud
You watch it pulse
You fall in love with it
All its depth
And all its power
Your burning mission now over
Your new mission
To hold it
To help it
To protect it
To fix it
You put aside your invasive tools
You throw away your distraction manual
And you wait until it’s ready for you

“Speeding through space…” by Sasha on her couch


Wednesday October 29, 2014
10:02pm
5 minutes
Leaves of Grass
Walt Whitman


There you are
Speeding through space
Reminding yourself of your favourite childhood mug
The one with the small red flowers and the round handle perfect for your thumb
There you go
Leaving again
Not looking back
All of your best things stored in boxes and taped with tape
Stacked
Maybe dusty now
But who knows
There you are
Shaking hands with a man dressed in grey
Looking him in his eyes and trying to see if he’s telling the truth
He’s telling the truth?
There you are
Making jokes like you know the language here
Putting your hands in your pockets and feeling for change
Telling me that you’ve never been so in love
Whistling a song your father used to sing

“Select your inbound journey” By Julia on Nicole’s balcony


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

I wrote you a note
And I left it there
In the pillow case on my side
So you’d feel my dreams when you held it tight

And you could say goodnight to me

I wrote you a note
And I left it there
On the back of a bottle of wine
So when you were toasting to us

You could take an extra sip for me

I wrote you a note
And I left it there
In the drawer with your passport and socks
So when you got dressed in the morning

You could put on a piece of me

I wrote you a note
And I left it there
On the bedside table where you’d see it
Right before you fell asleep

I left it there so you could read me

I wrote you a note
And I left it there
In the case of your favourite film
And when you’d open it up to watch it alone

You’d feel like you were watching with me

I wrote you a note
And I left it there
In the basket of all your pens
With a box of envelopes, to remind you, dear

That you could write for me

“the endless sky of Manitoba” by Sasha in the car on the 401


Monday Aug 4, 2014
2:46pm
5 minutes
a quote from Joe Lawther


The endless sky of Manitoba
Oh the endless sky of Manitoba
The endless sky of Manitoba
brings me closer to you

I’ve been gone for too long
Up in the Eastern cities
I’ve been gone for so long
I forget the smell of that sky

The endless sky of Manitoba
Oh the endless sky of Manitoba
The endless sky of Manitoba
brings me closer to you

I’m comin’ back this summer
Back to where I came from
Where the water’s clear as daybreak
And the people smile at you

The endless sky of Manitoba
Oh the endless sky of Manitoba
The endless sky of Manitoba
brings me closer to you

“Ha parlato troppo” by Julia at her table


Friday July 11, 2014
10:33pm
5 minutes
overheard on Corydon

I haven’t told him yet
I’m waiting for the one and only right moment
And when I do I know that he will understand
That life is full of promises that you don’t forget
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah yeah yeah
Life
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah yeah yeah
Opened up the door to a secret place
I know that if I stayed I’d have to keep it that way
A hundred lies and cover ups on every day
Cause if I didn’t know any better then I would say
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah yeah yeah
life
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah yeah yeah

“It’s a cozy little place” by Julia at Kay’s Delicatessen in Winnipeg


Monday June 16, 2014 at
3:25pm
5 minutes
winnipegfreepress.com

A little bit of me goes a long way
A thing I still remember my mother used to say
Tight braids in the backyard
Baskets filled with tomato red
I would hold onto her promises
And every single thing she said
Because the stars were her favourite
And the rhubarb bush her friend
The nights felt like perfect movies
The days a pretty song without a threat to end
And mama had an angel’s voice
And mama liked to sing
A little bit of me goes a long way
For the mountains and for the King
I didn’t know it then
But I’m sure I see it now
The words she held close to her chest
The softness she’d allow
Were the ones I would keep with me
Tattooed upon my heart
So that I’d never forget the ways
She’d lull me in the dark…
Peace and poems she would strum
Dreams and old ones she would hum

“Absentminded” by Julia on her living room floor


Sunday June 15, 2014
10:13pm
5 minutes
The New Yorker

We didn’t know it at the time but we were growing
We were growing
With our hands in each other’s pockets and wishing for the dawn to wake us from yesterday
We were doing the life things that we now keep
We were listening to the songs of our youth marrying our future and we were the harmony that sounded best
We didn’t know it
We didn’t know it at the time
And in those moments where the living room echoed in its emptiness
And the kitchen still smelled of sawdust
And there were no lamps or dressers to hold any of our belongings
We remember some love from our previous home
From the past, it feels like
Saying lean into each other
And so we do to keep warm
And so we do because we’ve forgotten our sweaters
And the night feels far away from the morning
But part of it at the same time
We didn’t know it then
We didn’t know it at the time
But we were growing
With love
With patience
With grace
With fewer things
With fewer promises to stay the same

“everyone is committed” by Julia at her kitchen table


Tuesday March 18, 2014
11:21pm
5 minutes
from an essay by Deborah Stein about collaboration on howlround.com

Round the table we sit, Liddy pissed off because she still has to sit at the kiddy table made worse by the fact that her name rhymes with it. Adrianna can’t move her face because of the recent Botox and so Ed keeps making jokes just to see her not laugh. Darla is still in the shitter after eating a wad of mashed potatoes because Tyson dared her to defy her lactose intolerance. Mom is singing her happy song because she’s trying not to go insane and Dad is trying to get the kids to stop trying to undred Liddy’s hair. The food is mediocre and I’m trying to give Liddy looks of encouragement but she hates me most of all right now. Maybe because I left. Maybe because I came back. I never know with her. I sneak pour her a glass of wine and try to pass it over without anyone noticing.

“Baby you’re much too fast” by Julia on her couch


Wednesday February 26, 2014
12:09am
5 minutes
Little Red Corvette
Prince


I called you up, I said Vroom Vroom baby
you told me I was out of my mind
I casually laughed then told you I was taking you out tonight
You shrieked a bit and then you were hooked
Where are we going?
And then I said it again, Vroom Vroom baby
You leave that part to me
You had on your jean jacket and you twirled in front of the mirror
Listening to Madonna or Tina
I had the keys and all I had to do was get to you
On my way over I remembered how you liked to bite my bottom lip when you kissed me
I thought about how if I close my eyes and lean into you, I always find your mouth
Or yours always finds mine
I felt cool with the hood down and the midnight air whispering through me
You were just a couple minutes away
And I couldn’t get to you fast enough
I almost ditched my ride on the side of the road
Just to run to you and make the wait disappear.
And then my song came on
Our song
The one you liked to sing in the shower

“300 pages” by Julia on her couch


Wednesday January 8, 2014
1:24am
5 minutes
from the cover of an old notebook

wrote you a letter explaining my love
i used words and pictures so you would understand
thought i was being clear and concise
i have a habit for confusing beautiful things
it had symbols and references
metaphors and similes
song lyrics and abstract drawings
it was over 300 pages long
it was over 4 years of patience waning and devotion
it was full of perfectly crafted images to indicate my feelings
the words written slowly so you could read them with ease
and the same things kept repeating over and over
the things about forever
the things about honesty
the things about forgiveness
the things about grass watering
and moon bathing
the kind of love poets have trouble describing
mostly because they fear that words will only taint it

“clean, soft” by Julia at Sambuca Grill


Saturday December 28, 2013 at Sambuca Grill
8:12pm
5 minutes
HandiBac tube

Like a baby’s face,like a sky’s blank slate, like a call in the wild, like a fresh wall of paint, I’m your sinner, you’re my saint.
I can’t cause these power outages to last longer.
I just keep seeing myself in the mirror and I know it’s clearer than it was before.
With the lights out I know, that my problems are gone, so I keep myself in the dark dark until I can understand my mark.
On the world.
Just a big splatter of poetry. I put on to you so you can see.
My life is a coiled up wire that is exposed and could explode into a million sparks of gold if I let it. If I’m not careful.
Clean minds like to clean mine, all my troubles go and into the black hole they blow.
I know I know. I can’t keep the image staying untarnished cause I just like finger smudging and floor rumbling.
They try, they try. But I’m alone most of the time and I can’t hear, what’s inside, I can’t hear all the pride I store away.
They try to keep my anger at bay.

“it has a song.” by Sasha on her couch


Sunday December 15, 2013
10:03pm
5 minutes
A quote by Maya Angelou

You live in a solarium
The walls and ceiling are glass
You polish them when the sun sets
Using an old T-shirt and some white vinegar
You climb up the ladder that belonged to your father
Reaching for the top
Reaching for the small circle
The mark
On a pane facing west
You have twelve cacti
You warn the cat
Repeatedly
To watch himself
The solarium has a song
You hear it humming
Mostly in the morning
Lubricated by the dew
Sometimes at night
When the moon shines silver and gold

“adjacent to the wildly popular” by Julia in Massey Harris Park


Friday, October 11, 2013
4:35pm
5 minutes
The Grid TO, Oct. 10-16, 2013 edition

When I tell you about my day I want you to ignore every single thing I say except for the part where I camped out on a park bench for too long watching a tiny Chinese woman do her daily power walk around the block 8 times. Remember the part where I tell you I never felt more welcome and more uninvited than when I heard her shuffle step come close to me, and I looked up to see her face. This was clearly her post. She had peed on it and everything and I was sitting in it while fooling myself that I could write a song in this comfort zone. In this hidden sanctuary where I learned to let go of my hatred for filthy pigeons and all their damn entitlement, or the fact that I hadn’t eaten anything substantial since yesterday. I will probably fail to mention that I almost called you but decided I’d rather just be alone.

“EXIT HIGH PARK AVE.” by Julia on the Greyhound


Saturday , August 10, 2013
11:30am
5 minutes
from the High Park Subway station
Writing a new song
Don’t want you to try to learn it
I’m a good friend of your mother
From a long long time ago
I met you at the Ferris wheel one fall evening bright
You were wearing your favorite jacket looked like you borrowed it from your mother’s closet
It was her favourite too
I remember her
I remember you
I didn’t want you to know who I was so
Iied about my name and my living situation
Told you I was in investments and you smiled and said oh how nice that is
Everyone you meet lately is a struggling artist like yourself
I knew I was singing to you right then
Making this truth song play out in my head just for you
My little inspiration wouldn’t know my intentions
Wouldn’t know who I really am
Too painful for all the memories of me
and
her
That you will never see

“When we came downstairs at 1 AM” by Julia at her desk


Thursday, April 18, 2013
11:43pm
5 minutes
In The Hills
Josh Weil


we are looking for a good man to play us a good song. we want to dance and we want to dance out loud. we want this man to spin us a record, a vinyl, a historical moment. we won’t be able to pay him. we don’t have any money. we come in and out of rooms like ghosts trying to cross over. we fail. the light is bright where we bring it. where is this man? the one who plays the music of our souls, connecting, lamenting, refusing to compromise. does he work at a tiny fish booth in Little Italy? does he have blonde highlights in his hair and a green ring around his pinky finger from a bad metal ring? he knows what we want. we know he does. we told him in our whispered dreams last may that we were going to need this in a year. it’s almost time. we don’t have much else in the way of options. we had our hearts set on the good man playing us a good song. we waited, even. for a year minus 15 days. we thought he’d bring the fish sandwiches to us, play the song, and smile with his eyes closed as we dance a promise out in big block letters that read J-O-Y.

“Nothing to do” by Julia at her desk


Monday January 28, 2013
12:12am
5 minutes
Free and Easy
Lama Gendun Rinpoche


Got rocks in my shoes, got nothing to do, just gonna sit here and think of you.
sounds like a good plan, you sound like a good man, your reality is better than my dreams and…
I don’t have the day by the tail like I thought I would. I play a melody of desire on the keyboard, typing Bs where the Fs should go. Can’t see the difference anyway. Typing not writing. There’s a difference there. Can’t see it. Can’t taste it. Not hungry. Just got pockets with holes in them, love notes falling out onto the floor. Finders Keepers. Keepers Keepers.
Got rocks in my shoes, got nothing good to do, just gonna sit here and wait for you.
Sounds like a good choice, yours sounds like a good voice, your heartbeat is better when it’s making more noise…
I don’t have the night by the waist like I thought I should. I play a catch phrase on the Hotel Bible and hope you catch where I’ve thrown all the answers. Can’t see the difference anyway. Loving not living. There’s a difference there.
Can’t hear it. Can’t touch it. Not sensitive. Just got pockets with broken zippers, change falling out onto the floor.
Finders Keepers. Keepers Keepers.