“pockets of bullets” by Sasha on the 99

Tuesday July 3, 2018
6:48pm
5 minutes
All The While The Women
Hugh Martin

pockets full of bubblegum already chewed hand in there and stick stick stick pull it out and make a spider web cat’s cradle silver moon pockets full of pennies found at the bottom of fountains at the bottom of purses at the bottom of stomachs did you know that pennies aren’t even a thing anymore another removal of the poetry of the mundane from our everyday exchanges I try not to get bitter I try I try

pockets full of bullets and badminton birdies on the way to the courts hoping a stranger will play today hoping someone will bring popsicles and popcorn hoping someone will want to play today play today

“Come prepared with questions” by Julia on the 99

Friday April 27, 2018
10:56pm
5 minutes
the Verses Festival of Words 2018 program

Are you home yet are you waiting in the bed are you staying this time are you home for a while are you sticking around are you there already are you as hungry and tired as I am did your journey tonight teach you something like mine did were you able to listen to your body like I wasn’t did you problem solve on the spot in a room full of strangers and lights hiding their faces are you home yet are you waiting for me are you going to be there to hold me will you hold me until I’m sleeping will you please let me sleep in will you stroke my cheek will you untie my knots are you on your way yet can you be home now can you stay home now can you stay home now

“All my friends are having babies” by Sasha at her desk

Wednesday April 4, 2018
10:56pm
5 minutes
Overheard on the 99

you won’t know me when you finally decide that i’m worthy and i’ll put a german shepherd in charge of my heart who will bark when you come close because that’s what i’ve got to do and i’ll do it because that’s the kind of person i am now. surprise. will you have thought long and hard about how to punish me (silence) how to hurt me back (silence) how to make me feel so low that your lowness is lessened is lighter. is your low less? is your low light? good good i’m glad for you i want the best for you i want the light for you. it’s been a long time. you won’t know me and the shape of my new face new world new days in and out in and out flying to see my lion home alone again nights alone thinking of the soup i’ll make the tea i’ll brew the better tomorrow better tomorrow. thinking of the babies i’ll have and hold and bundle and cradle and never let know this lonely this guilt this shame this bad call not the worst it’s okay it’s okay. i love.

“A woman in the shape of a monster” by Sasha at the Airbnb in Saskatoon

Monday April 2, 2018
11:46pm
5 minutes
Planetarium
Adrienne Rich

A woman appears and she’s shaped like you are
monster and beauty and witch and malachite
She’s got the face of someone I knew
someone I know is that me there she’s you she’s staring

A woman appears and she screams in my face again
rages and rages again
Wants candy and Prada and new shoes again
Doesn’t care for please again

A woman appears and she never says sorry
she fights back with nails and tongue
she makes shapes with icicles and toast crusts
she sharpens herself with vodka and sleep

A woman appears and she’s dying
as we all are
she’s living
as we all are

“Get that money get that cash!” By Julia on the 99

Thursday March 29, 2018

6:20pm

5 minutes

From a text

I think it’s funny when you ride a bus facing the wrong way and you think you can talk on the phone with nobody hearing you. As if it gives you the superpower of being invisible.

I also think it’s funny when you try to write on a bus facing the wrong way and your stomach starts to swivel and you can feel it in your temples. Hilarious. Ha ha. Great joke.

I’ve been wondering about the money. About the funny money on the bus. The coins. The lost dimes. The people all huddled at the back too cool to tap in with their bus pass. Too cool says the sunglasses hiding the eyes too worried about being caught. The heart jumps around in there when you think it might be the last time it gets to. Isn’t it funny when you have no money and you have to pay the $250 fine because you didn’t pay the money? Hilarious. Ha ha.

I think it’s funny when the person behind you has the voice of a machete and thinks they’re also invisible.

“feel free to play around” by Julia on her couch

Monday January 8, 2018
9:26pm
5 minutes
http://ohsheglows.com/

I told them today about my favourite word. I told them
everything I knew about play. I invited it in like a teacher did once for me. And again when I forgot. And again when I was faking it. Don’t take yourself so damn seriously. Seriously. Don’t. And we played. We danced out of our chairs into a game. We all said yes and how glorious it was. That feeling alone won me right over. I asked them to risk being seen. I invited again and again and led by example. Some of my heartstrings were tugged so hard they broke. My own panic wove a tapestry and I wore it and then when I invited guidance I got some Serenity I didn’t know how to ask for. I think there is magic in moments like these. In giving yourself over to the open chair. The possibility of freedom. The strong and wrong balls to the wall go big or go home. I played like I wasn’t afraid of a grade or an opinion. And they played back when I called.

“continues scheming to win” by Julia on Amanda’s toilet

Saturday December 23, 2017

11:50pm

5 minutes

a Bard on the Beach program

Stomach empty, churning

butter into bitter

bitter into bit

Hungry belly begs

Hungry heart quakes

More or something like it

good or something close

Full feels faraway and fleeing

Catch me if you pay attention

Stomach empty, churning

Wanting wishing waiting

asking for a morsel

eating itself quiet

sucking the bones dry

“It made me feel so much better” by Sasha on her couch

Tuesday December 19, 2017
1:49pm
5 minutes
From Not That Kind of Girl
Lena Dunham

It made me feel so much better to go outside and be in the rain and the peek whisper of sun and to feel the nibble of cold on my cheeks and to be splashed by a car turning and then I was at the water’s edge and that always makes me feel so much better but when I feel good the very very best I cry then too because you know what my heart is the open doorway or frame my heart is the door frame there isn’t even a door there the door was taken a long time ago and sold in an antique store to someone who really needed it who needed that oak protection

“Wild nights-Wild nights!” By Sasha at her desk

Thursday November 30, 2017
5:51pm
5 minutes
Wild nights-Wild nights!
Emily Dickinson

Oh those wild nights when the lemon brews in the heart of the heart and the dreams smell like lilacs and cinnamon. We walk by the water when the moon is full because it’s dangerous if we’re home oh it’s dangerous if walls and a floor and a ceiling have to contain us. Those wild wild nights! We catch dreams with long tongues and we imagine the voices of our children and our grandchildren and our great grandchildren. It’s okay that we’re tired that’s what this time is for – wild night – it’s okay. We mean it when we say that all we have is now. Celery kisses for everyone! WILD!

“This one has more nuts” By Sasha at Bump n’ Grind


Wednesday September 13, 2017 at Bump n’ Grind
12:38pm
5 minutes
Overheard at Bump n’ Grind

When I speak to her, I taste egg salad sandwiches on white bread, lots of mayo. The phone rings again fuck fuck fuck I don’t want to answer. But I do. This is my practice, I say. Show up show up. Hi. Hi. Blah blah on on on stress drugs. I know I’m not making sense but I can’t be fully clear because I don’t want to betray and five minutes isn’t a lot of time and I might run out before I can find the happy ending. HA. There’s pickle in that egg salad. Sweet pickle. I open up the sandwhich and pick each bit out, building a tiny fortress on the counter, amongst all these god damn dishes.

“the hands upraised” by Sasha at her desk


Friday November 25, 2016
11:54am
5 minutes
The back of a Buddha greeting card

I couldn’t sleep again last night. I don’t usually have this problem, toes touching the warmth of your calf, stretching into a dream. I woke you from almost-sleep, “I have the scares,” I said. We stole the line from our eight year old friend because kids are the most articulate in my books. Before I woke you from almost-sleep, before we brushed teeth and put socks and underwear into the laundry hamper, I had been edgy and grating and needy with you, asking “Why?” over and over, even when it wasn’t called for. Mostly when it wasn’t called for. Before the sixty three “Why’s” we had seen a play about a brothel in which a woman is sold into sexual slavery. Our friends were in it. On the way there, I sang along to the radio in the car as the rain slapped the windshield. We held hands. The play was really good, really painful, really vital – which is more than I can say most of the time. Maybe all the “Why’s” I threw at you were easier than the “Why’s” I really have, the thundercloud ones and the screaming ones and the throat closing sob ones. I’m sorry. You don’t have answers because there are no answers, you can’t give me the answers I need, you shouldn’t ever have to. Hands upraised, reaching for something, reaching for meaning, reaching for why, reaching for God.

“A hundred tourists are caught” by Sasha on the couch in Cowichan Bay


Friday, January 1, 2016
11:14am
5 minutes
Coda, Etcetera
Amber Tamblyn


when you tell me my feelings i flush with earl grey tears and this is not a testament to your impact on me it is an homage to my mother and my mother’s mother before her and when i make breakfast and lunch and dinner i am not subscribing to our cultural magazine of gender roles my soul is fed by mashing an avocado on toast and by stewing broth and lentils all afternoon for us to dip crusty bits of red fife bread in and when i try to breathe into my pelvis and find this difficult it is not just my body it is every woman’s body the body of the great mother and i set the intention like a timer that will go off like a church bell whenever i am far away from myself be here be here be here

“Transcendence demands sacrifice” by Sasha at Mountainview Cemetary


Sunday, October 25, 2015
3:06pm
5 minutes
from a write up about Rich Shapero

The graves are in a row
row row row
your boat
gently
down the stream

Transcendence demands sacrifice
Sacrifice demands selflessness
Selflessness demands consciousness
Consciousness demands radio waves
from your heart to your gut to your crotch
I digress
The grass is greener than anticipated
The graves are sporadic
here and there
no method
Surprised smile
I meet a man laying flowers
on the X marking the spot of someone he’s loved
Twenty three petals
Ten fingers
One sun high

“the important mother” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Tuesday, June 16, 2015
10:48pm
5 minutes
Back of the Bragg’s Apple Cider Vinegar bottle

oops she dropped the ball again the important ball the big ball the one with the attached little balls and the
oops she let it all go again she slid in the compost pile and got pineapple all over her ass
oops she’s in the lost and found again beside empty wallets and ten million umbrellas and thirty six cell phones with no chargers and an ace of spaces ace of spaces ace of spades mother of pearl
oops she fell down the well again blowing bubbles til she’s saved by her own shortcomings
for once she didn’t plan it
her fall
oops she finds a diamond ring and marries her devotion to the weather
oops she got wax on the tablecloth again she’ll get it out she always does out damn spot damn beeswax damn fire

“Bitch better have my money” by Sasha on the 99 going East


Wednesday, April 8, 2015
6:25pm
5 minutes
Better Have My Money
Rihanna


black eye magenta dream smoking gun lemon water blue pulse bank statements birch bark juxtaposition rejection rainbow rainbow bitch better have my money publish publish kick the habit wearing the same thing weeks and weeks it’s raining again rainbow we can cross our fingers for that we can cross our fingers for the cardboard recycling we can cross our fingers for a good sweet spot cheesecake redhead lettuce cucumber slice slice the knife coffin of circumstance unsure unsure backpack straps digging into flesh inconsequential tattoos

“Your values” by Sasha on her couch


Monday, April 6, 2015
12:25pm
5 minutes
From a bookmark

You’ve got the value
You’ve got the game
You’ve got the pace
You’ve got the flame
You’ve got the smile
You’ve got the heart
You’ve got the garlic
You’ve got the smarts
You’ve got the face
You’ve got the mind
You’ve got the songs
You’re one of a kind
You’ve got the run
You’ve got the bat
You’ve got the coat
You’ve got the fat
You’ve got the sweat
You’ve got the guts
You’ve got the monkey
You’ve got the mutts

“Your premium won’t increase” by Sasha in the Kiva


Friday February 20, 2015
7:29pm
5 minutes
from a radio ad at the Dentist

your premium won’t increase if you pay your dues and if you pay your dues you’ll be living the good life and if you’re living the good life you’re smelling the fresh air and if you’re smelling the fresh air you’re free and if you’re free you’re flying and if you’re flying you’re an eagle and if you’re an eagle you’re better up than down and if you’re down you’ll sail back up and if you’re up you’ll be in the blue and if you’re in the blue you’re connected to what’s bigger and if you’re connected to what’s bigger you won’t feel the small so much and if you don’t feel the small so much you’ll eat another slice of cake and if you eat another slice of cake you’ll close your eyes and if you close your eyes you’ll see the glow and if you see the glow you’ll know you’re where you’re meant to be and if you know you’re where you’re meant to be you’ll relax and if you relax you’ll see the cumulous clouds shaped like puppy faces and if you see puppy faces you’re doing pretty damn well and if you’re doing pretty damn well you’ll be thankful and if you’re thankful you’ll be present and if you’re present you’ll be so on the highest path and if you’re so on the highest path

“TERRYBELL VIDEOLOTTERY” by Sasha on the bus


Sunday November 9, 2014
7:13pm
5 minutes
from a bar sign near Bologna Centrale

Thankful for the coffee you buy from the tiny shop at the bottom of the hill
Thankful for the DVD’s you rent from the library about New Orleans
Thankful for your squishy face
Thankful for blue sky and sun
Thankful for bravery and leaps
Thankful for the fireplace
Thankful for the best omelettes
Thankful for repetition
Thankful for evolution
Thankful for what I don’t understand (TERRYBELL VIDEOLOTTERY) and that that leads me to gratitude
Thankful for public transportation
Thankful for golden beets
Thankful for fluidity of self (what we choose is who we are?)
Thankful for the internet
Thankful for the ability for mass consciousness to shift
Thankful for books
Thankful for lentils
Thankful for those that make us laugh
Thankful for those that tell the truth

“Homicidal computer” by Julia on her couch


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

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

“marvellous night” by Julia on her couch


Saturday March 22, 2014
3:09pm
5 minutes
Moondance
Van Morrison


sitting naked on my bed until it gets too cold to care
writing naked on my bed until the sweat drips from the back of my knees and forms a puddle in my art
the pencil is sharp and i’m not holding back
not this time
not any part of me
the page is naked on my bed until it gets too insecure to stay that way
the story is naked on my bed until it gets cloaked in truth and turns into one of those truth-wearing high society women who roll around in money and make grand entrances
the pencil is sharpened and i’m not erasing a thing
not this time
not any part of me
it’s hot now
it’s cool
it breezes
it wafts
it’s only easy when i give myself fully to the sword
and even holding such a weapon
it’s still the most peaceful thing i can touch

“for being born and stuff” by Sasha on the couch in Mississauga


Friday March 14, 2014
11:48pm
5 minutes
Nelu’s Birthday Card

Once, you drew a few lines and had your mother title it because you didn’t know how to write words yet, you hadn’t yet discovered that words are the same shapes you were already making, but put together like a puzzle, and you called those few lines “birth”. Your mother tried not to laugh because she didn’t want to shame you, she wanted to only love you, she didn’t feed your sugary cereal or ice cream and only let you have pie on special occasions, she put you to bed at seven thirty and made your older brother speak in a whisper until it was his bedtime. Bless you mother and the overflowing bounty of her market basket, market on Saturday mornings, coming home with nasturtium flowers and purple kale and fresh rye bread and coffee that was only for the adults, only for her and Jermaine. Once, you drew a flower and had your mother title it and you told her to call it “death”.

“Limit to your love” by Julia at her kitchen table


Monday March 3, 2014
12:33pm
5 minutes
A cover by James Blake of a song by Feist
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oOT2-OTebx0


I’m begging that there isn’t
that there never ever will be
that you’ll say when I die, that that’s it for you too now
that if you never met me you wouldn’t have made it to 40
I don’t like the idea of one day you realizing how awful I am
You accept all my things, my good things, my bad things, with such selflessness
I’m dreading “one day”
I’m dreading “sometime”
Because what I’ve learned from you by you loving me
is that love is a CHOICE
and that you could have had your pick
and that they all would have chosen you right back
People say you can’t help who you love
I disagree
I say you can help it, and you should help it
Put a couple extra smiles into the mix, a few more tonnes of laughs and understanding, a spoon or two beyond the recipe of sacrifice and open minded, full hearted, unbridled compassion
see the person in front of you with new eyes every day
look into their souls from their baby pictures and notice
that the good natured innocence is still there
that love is a choice because we make it, because we want it
Not because it falls into our lap and we just agree to keep it
It’s a garden in metaphor for a reason
The grass is only green where you water it
because that’s the true secret to love

“Limit to your love” by Sasha at her desk


Monday March 3 2014
12:18pm
5 minutes
A cover by James Blake of a song by Feist


We speak about failure
We speak about embracing change
The incremental
The slow shift
The leap across continents and sidewalks and snowbanks
We laugh over overpriced things
But we don’t care
Because we’re young
We’ve only got our mouths to feed
We’ve only got our fires to stoke
We’ve got small apartments
With tealights
And jars of dried beans
We’ve got new/old things
We’ve collected from flea markets and Costco and our mother’s basements
We’re never done
We’ve just begun
It’s not a touchdown or a hundred meter or a tennis match
It’s a marathon
It’s a sunrise/sunset
It’s a cycle
I’m glad for that
There’s always more beginning
More ending
More beginning
More ending

“may find offensive” by Julia at her desk


Sunday, September 29, 2013
9:39pm
5 minutes
from a TV warning on Global

Is there a single thing that we know or don’t know or want to know or need to know? One single thing? I think if we close our eyes and just trust, good things will happen. Bad things will happen too, and I know this, and I think everyone knows this, but no one will be as good if that we’rent true. Cause there’s a fear of messing it all up. Sometimes life doesn’t make sense. Sometimes it’s a stream of consciousness thing that you’ll have to go back and fix because you ruined everything when you weren’t thinking of the consequences. It’s all a blur. And when it’s not, it seems like it is because we are just lost in the moment, or the past, or the worst case scenario. Some people may find that offensive. To live so openly, so directly, so messily. I get it. I really, truly get it. It’s almost insulting to the planning, to the people who plan, who get mad when the sun doesn’t shin just because they wanted it to. They’re allowed to be offended. But that doesn’t make them right. Life is happening right now and we are all sitting here analyzing the shit out of it. It was better when we didn’t see the end. We just closed our eyes and did it.

“their best shots are” by Julia at her desk


Friday, July 26, 2013
6:55pm
5 minutes
The Cut-Up Method of Brion Gysin

Like bats in the night they creep up on you. They hold you hostage with their rodent-pitched squeaking and then fly around your head making you dizzy until you’re so dizzy you have no choice but to close your eyes and pretend nothing’s there–even though you can hear it and ‘it’ sounds wild or distressed. And you think with every part of you that the bats want nothing but your blood. Your demise. Your fall from grace. You think to yourself, “How nice and soft death would be.”…Better than the hell you’re in right now. Better than the story you’d tell to haunt the neighbours or your grandchildren when you acquire either of them. Those are what they’re like. Masked versions of everything you fear–the enemy’s rifle locked and loaded and ready to shoot. They’ve already won. Your mind is too weak for getting out of here alive. And they know that.

“Open your eyes” by Julia in her backyard


Tuesday, June 18, 2013
5:19pm
5 minutes
from the monsters.ca ad on the streetrcar

open your eyes, let the pain out, got to surprise, the tears they won’t come out by themselves.
they’re stubborn there. they’re so so stubborn there.
got to coax them from the source, they won’t make an appearance until it’s do or die or die and do the same things anyway.
open your eyes.
let the hurt out.
there’s the magic feeling of letting it all go.
and you don’t want to do it here.
you don’t want anyone on the porch next door to hear you. you have to keep it low.
open.
open.
and when you get to the big bad parts. you’ll know the rest of what you do is for a reason.
are you alone, in your mind? Did you forget the rules.
i’m waiting to know. i’m waiting to help.
don’t let the situation dictate how you act. You are a behaving human being. you don’t need somebody to tell you where you went wrong. or where you went away.
open your eyes, and see the thing that has been missing.
do you know what I mean?
Do you see it?
Do you know it’s real?
This gingerbread house won’t make itself but we’re still hoping to taste the roof off of one of them anytime soon.
let the tears go.
let the tears out.
open your eyes.