“Powerful, self-actualized women should feel no shame” by Julia on F’s couch

Sunday November 12, 2017
9:38pm
5 minutes
Communion
Bell Hooks

When speaking
When listening
When choosing not to have a baby
When changing her mind about having a baby
When saying no
When saying yes
When crying
When asking the bus driver for help
When helping
When wanting to be alone
When wanting to be with him
When wanting to be with him even though he still forgets
When speaking
When listening
When making dinner
When waking up
When brushing her teeth
When taking a long shower
When touching herself
When asking to be touched
When deciding not to give an answer
When deciding not to justify her feelings
When not justifying her feelings
When saying no
When saying yes
When speaking
When listening
When wanting someone to hold
When wanting to be fucked and never called again
When fucking and not calling
When talking about her dreams
When breaking down in the supermarket
When buying a box of cookies

“you might think she was an angry woman” by Julia on the fun chair


Thursday April 6, 2017
12:49pm
5 minutes
The Birth House
Ami McKay


don’t hide your teeth
this world is due for a lesson
woman with fangs
woman with blood
the soft spun into a breastplate
of armour
is not made to protect weakness
woman with impusle
woman with growl

whoever decided to paint her
holding a flower
and said that
she wouldn’t hurt a fly
was hoping everyone would
be too stupid to question
whoever decided to paint her
mouth closed
was wrong about her weapons

“imagery is ignored” by Julia at her dining table/desk


Tuesday February 14, 2017
8:29pm
5 minutes
from a grading rubric

On the wall that she stared at day in and day out, good lighting bad lighting, Cynthia hung a portrait of a woman with black swollen eyes and puffy cheeks. She was something of an attitude more than an appearance. She wasn’t saying anything so much as she was receiving something. Accepting something. Most days Cynthia didn’t have a reason to look at the woman and she hadn’t fully taken her in. Something about it was hard to engage with. The expression lifeless yet the most honest thing she’d ever seen. The look in her face was not sadness nor sympathy. Cynthia found it hard to look at things like that.

“with my fingers and lick” by Julia on her couch


Saturday December 3, 2016
6:20pm
5 minutes
from Cake Pops
Amy Roher


It’s going in the books as one of the best fights of my life. Probably won’t have a rival. I think because being able to be so articulate while so angry is one of those white squirrel moments. They exist but they are rare. They are unicorns. Unicorns that reveal themselves to only the lucky ones in this life. I haven’t seen one yet, but that’s okay because I had this fight and I will never be the same. We laughed. We cried. We fucked. We said it all. We screamed. We got what we wanted. We saw each other. We saw our problems. We accepted them. We accepted each other. But we were both still mad and it was beautiful. Truly. No one had to cut a piece of themselves off. No one had to step onto the coals while the other one held the gasoline. We both blazed. We walked through the fire together. We blew the smoke off each other’s backs. We flew.

“to watch someone fall” by Julia at Starbucks


Monday June 6, 2016 at Starbucks
7:32am
5 minutes
Poetry Is Dead Magazine
Issue 01 Volume 05


There wasn’t a whole lot of proof that Ingrid and Raymond were meant for each other.
Ingrid preferred to eat outside, Raymond preferred to eat in.
Ingrid wanted to visit the kids in Vermont, Raymond wanted them to come to the cottage.
Ingrid told Raymond once that she didn’t have any idea how two people who loved each other as much as they did could disagree as much as they did. Raymond told Ingrid once that the only reason why they didn’t see eye to eye was because they were meant to be teaching each other.
Ingrid liked to write letters by hand and send them in the mail. When the two of them were young, Raymond worked overseas for two years and Ingrid asked if he would write to her.
Raymond didn’t like to write much; his penmanship was hard to read and that frustrated him. He told Ingrid that even if he didn’t send her a letter he would send her something and not to worry.

“In an attempt to get around this problem” by Julia on the 99


Saturday March 12, 2016
5:24pm
5 minutes
Epigenetics2 Revolution
Nessa Carey


There’s a man staring at me from under a balaclava. I am scared but more than that- I am furious. I think if I show fear he wins. I am mad that he is winning. I am so mad that he is anything on this planet, but because I have to deal with this, I am angry that these stupid tactics are working on me. He is on my mind. At the front of it. I tell myself not to look up at him. I don’t want to meet the gaze of this ridiculous human being who’s growing harder in his pants at the thought of displacing me in my rightful position on this earth. I tell myself that if I don’t look at him, I will be the one in control. I am desperate for another human to get on this god forsaken bus so I can avoid eye contact with him or her as well so it doesn’t look like he’s getting to me, just seeming that I don’t look at anyone, that I don’t give a flying fuck about connection.

I am afraid.
And I hate him for that.

“White-sand beaches” By Julia at her dining table


Monday March 7, 2016
10:41pm
5 minutes
from an online ad

If you’re asking then I’m going, going with you, going wherever you go.
I don’t have any bags packed yet but I don’t mind getting whatever I need as we bleed.
Can I borrow your toothbrush? If you’re asking, can I share your knapsack?
I could sing you one of your favourites. You can pick the one. I know you like some feeling kinds, some country, some bluegrass, some sweet sweet soul.
I don’t care if you’re a white-sand beaches kind of thing, a hot air balloon, an air dive off of a mountain kind of heart. I am an open mess of so much yes and so little reservation.
I can curl up small on your back, or lead you hand in hand to a secret place where the pure strength river will never run dry.

“Is the client’s wish achievable?” by Julia at the salon


Monday February 15, 2016
4:12pm
5 minutes
From a treatment plan at Black 2 Blond salon

I haven’t asked for permission since Charlie left. She used to make me feel like if I could just stop waiting for other people to validate me, I would start excelling in my own life, at work, in everything. Charlie knew how to get what she wanted, waltzing into corner stores and convincing the cashiers to give her something for free each time she went in. It was inspiring. But it also seems like it required a particular person to achieve such positive results. I didn’t think I could get away with it–just based on my demeanor, my fear of not being liked. Charlie used to say, it’s out there for the taking. Every single last bit is there for you, you just need to start acting like you deserve it. I’ve been doing that. I’ve been working hard and being free. It is almost better that she’s not here to watch the progression. I’m getting better but Charlie would be pushing me for more extreme results. She was good for motivating but she didn’t understand that everyone has their own pace. It feels good. To do what I’m doing. It’s faster than I thought I would..

“loading up the cart sheer to the brim” by Julia at Nicole’s house


Sunday, January 3, 2016
10:12pm
5 minutes
http://www.bonappetit.com

Tilly-Jean names her new rooster Amelia and asks her best friend, Fannie if she wants to come over and parade her around. Fannie loves parading around Tilly’s roosters but the last one was very traumatic as she was shot in the middle of the parade and nobody can really forget the death of a parading rooster.
Fannie tells Tilly-Jean that she will come over only if she promises to avoid the Overly yard and take the Elmsview route instead.
Tilly-Jean tells Fannie that the point of a parade is to SEE Amelia, not keep her hidden. She tells Fannie that she doesn’t know if that’s a fair condition. Fannie doesn’t like seeing death more than she needs to so she tells Tilly that she will not change her mind and to call her back after she has made an educated decision.

“is your weapon” by Julia at her desk


Saturday November 7, 2015
11:45pm
5 minutes
from the back cover of Watchdogs

Is your weapon silence or is it force?
I’m asking cause I need to know.
I’m taking a survey.
Which one works better for you?
Are you using it at all?
Are you using your weapon for good or for evil?
You can decide what it is, at any point.
I’d recommend earlier than later.
But what do I know.
I’m just taking a survey.
Is your weapon strength or is it pain?
I’m asking cause I need to know.
I’m looking for the best answer.
Which one keeps the monsters at bay and which one keeps the good out?
It’s possible to keep the good out.
Some weapons only hurt ourselves.
Some weapons only become available after we need them.
You can decide when you’ll use it.
I’d recommend now or never.
But what do I know.

“Well, I have my rights, sir” by Julia at Matchstick Coffee Roasters


Monday October 26, 2015 at Matchstick Coffee Roasters
10:02am
5 minutes
The Lorax
Dr. Seuss


Can’t hold me back, hold me down, can’t hold me
Can’t hold me back, hold me down, can’t hold me
Tattooed on the inside of my left arm, running along the route of the vein
a tiny little reminder that I don’t owe anything to anyone
but myself
Written in my own hand, it protects my heart from the dangers of persuasion
it protects my soul from the threat of infiltration
it protects my skin from the deliberate burn
Because it’s already there, and it’s already mine
Can’t hold me back, hold me down, can’t hold me
Can’t hold me back, hold me down, can’t hold me
The deal I’ve made with myself, to not let anyone take me
to not let anyone shake me
to not let anyone scare me into giving in.
I have my rights
I have my rights
I get to keep them wherever I want to
wherever I need them
wherever suits me best.
I choose it all.
Nobody can remove what I have built eternal.

“I’ll mesage in a bit” by Julia at 49th Parallel


Thursday September 17, 2015 at http://49thcoffee.com/
3:20pm
5 minutes
from a text

I let go of that misery that used to haunt my dreams
I left it at a bus stop
or something
equally as insignificant
Where did my mind go
when I dropped it off in the rain
I think about calling it back
When the knowing sets in
Don’t need it anyway, I’m a better man
A better man
Don’t think it’ll hurt anyone
It was designed for me
I didn’t want to carry it
but I got used to its weight
and warmth
Left alone with it and it would tear me
down the middle
Maybe now I’m a sum of those two parts
Don’t think about it anyway, I’m a better man
A better man
Sleepless nights caused by sleepless demons
I would lay awake wishing I was gone
Now the air is clearer
When I remember to forget
I left that version of me there
I’m a better man
A better man

“take her children to church” by Julia at her desk


Thursday June 4, 2015
1:01am
5 minutes
Vogue
October 2014


She wakes up early in the morning, before the sun does, before the man does. He sleeps like a bear anyway. He wouldn’t notice if the house was on fire. He wouldn’t notice if his testicles were dipped in hydrochloric acid. For the record she has considered both options. She decides on sneaking her babies out without causing any physical pain. She doesn’t want to add to her little ones’ suffering. God knows they’be been through enough. She dresses her sleeping children as best she can. Georgia’s eyes flap open and she knows if she’s to wake anyone, Georgia’s the best one. She loves secrets. She’ll be good at helping her get the other two ready. She doesn’t even worry about the snoring bear. Georgia is quiet but she is curious. She puts her fingers to her lips and smiles with her eyes.

“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?

“a new relationship to the vagina” by Julia on the subway going west


Wednesday March 25, 2015
5:28pm
5 minutes
Vagina
Naomi Wolf


Yesterday I glanced down and I was surprised. Surprised that after all these years (31 if you’re wondering), I actually liked what I saw. Yeah get over it I’m talking about my vagina. Why can’t I? Don’t answer that, I don’t give a shit. I’m allowed to talk about whatever I want, especially when it’s something I love. You hear that, I don’t just like my vagina. I love her. With a thousand deeply regretted shitty comments I’ve uttered about myself, I take a stand today, mirror in between my legs, and facing the setting sun. I see who I am all over. Soft. Capable. Hungry. Open. Closed. Both. Alive. Strong. Resilient. Self-preserved. Willing to house others.
My vagina is my spirit animal.
I am she and she is me.

“And now I know he’s not my soulmate” by Julia at Aroma Espresso Bar


Wednesday March 18, 2015 at Aroma Espresso Bar
8:00pm
5 minutes
overheard at aroma espresso bar

The first thing I did was dance. Second thing was shove a Ham and Swiss baked croissant into my mouth. Still dancing. Still moving. Eating dancing moving breathing. Living. That’s what it was. Fear leaving the body. Pain released into a thousand tiny gold flakes, decorating the sky. The ham and cheese croissant was the only thing allowed in my stomach. No more knots. No more anxiety. No more burying my feelings so deep within me they could hide behind organs and slip under the radar. After the dancing eating moving breathing, FREEING thing I was doing, I threw my head back and I just laughed and laughed and laughed. The day felt warm again and I felt whole–like a hot, gooey pizza ready to be devoured by the hungry and the good.

“One male one female” by Julia at her desk


Wednesday March 11, 2015
2:38pm
5 minutes
from an online acting breakdown

It was everything and nothing
One male
One female
She cradled his heart gently in her palm
He unraveled his entire soul at her feet
Everything
And nothing
One male
One female
She held his sobbing head
On her lap
In the dark
He poured out his deepest secrets
To the folds of her jeans
To the softness of her thighs
Everything
And nothing
One male
One female
She waited until he was able
He held tight to her patience like a wounded bird

“Welcome to Amsterdam” by Julia at Amsterdam Airport Schiphol


Thursday November 20, 2014
3:01pm
5 minutes
from a sign at Amsterdam Airport Schiphol

Because we couldn’t swim and we knew that we would have to. We knew that life wasn’t only on this side and to see any of the rest of it, we would have had to leave. To swim somewhere to get somewhere better than here. So we taught ourselves that summer. We took our turns failing and struggling. We never gave up. Because they were trying to keep us from trying. And they wanted us to have something less than they did. But we weren’t going to let them stop us. We wanted to be ready for when the time came to prove we could stay afloat.

“in the passenger seat” by Julia at her desk


Sunday October 26, 2014
12:33am
5 minutes
from the early draft of a screenplay

Anja sat quietly in the front seat, not wanting to disturb her father while he was lost. She knew she’d only have a few more calm minutes with him before he lost his temper, and she didn’t want to reduce them by saying the wrong thing, or breathing too loudly. Anja had wanted to go up to the cabin with her father ever since she was a kid, but for some reason they never did things just the two of them. Of course Pat got to do everything with their father, and he’d come home shining like the sun after a weekend alone with him. Anja knew she didn’t have much to say to her father, but always assumed that was because she never got to go on these trips like her brother did. If she had had the opportunity, she would have made herself known. She would have told a few jokes and proven how strong she was, and fearless. It felt like the two of them, finally spending some quality time together, had been driving in circles for at least an hour. Anja wondered briefly if this moment would be enough to bring them closer together.

“You want to be just interested enough” by Julia at her kitchen table


Monday March 17, 2014
11:54pm
5 minutes
from an interview with Barbara Kingsolver

Don’t let them hear you breathing or whimpering. I know you think it’ll help you establish a presence but it will only make things worse. They don’t want to think of you as a human being as bad as that sounds. They love knowing you can smile on cue no matter what’s going on inside. You can do that can’t you? Well the breathing thing is an obvious one..I mean, breathe, don’t die, but do it subtly. It’s got to go under the radar, completely undetected. And don’t cry because then you don’t look tough. And you can’t show any tears or they’ll eat you up. People don’t remember strength but they do remember weakness. That’s because they automatically start to assume you can’t handle even small situations. They think you’ll need handholding and they don’t want to hold anyone’s hands. If I were you I’d try not to sneeze either. I mean get that stuff out of your system before you walk into the room. And if you’re one of those people who get triggered by the light? Don’t open your eyes.

“we chase our dreams deep under water” by Julia on her couch


Sunday December 22, 2013
7:52pm
5 minutes
Hold Me For Now
Skinny Bitches


There was a time when the days bled into each other and we could not hear the tide of the ocean because it felt like our insides were making the same sounds. We, the two of us, we’d dance until we were tired. In the kitchen. With a roast burning in the oven. We, the three of us, you, me, and life, would hold hands while we slept or touch bums when we weren’t. There was a time when your face was too bright to even look at, or when I wasn’t ready for a love so right, or both. When we’d get home early just to spend more time in bed laying at the ceiling and listening to The Beach Boys, or the hum of our ancient radiators. We could not hear the sirens of the road, the chaos of a slippery tree cracking because our love was telling us stories and we were desperately trying to listen. There was a time, as if assembled by a five year old, our pieces stuck together; to each other with glue, with gentleness, with strength.

“modern doughnuts” by Julia on the 506 going east


Saturday December 21, 2013
5:22pm
5 minutes
From the Jelly doughnut store sign on College

And you could be better than me
cause you have seen the beast in me
and when I am alone I know that it’s right
for me to try to give you over, give you up tonight
My sacrifice for this good world, is setting you free as a bird
to fly with anyone who loves you as much as you love me
I’m scared of keeping you on the ground
I see it cinematically
with your life’s movie credits scrolling by
and the role I play is the Girl Who Ruined You
I am saddened by it all without the shame of admitting it, and it’s something
I don’t admit at all
to any one just cause they’re listening
you should be better than me
do better than me I swear
Life’s too short to hope for someone to give you what you always deserved
you earned all the good things
and I’m not a good thing
unless you’re blinded too….
I wouldn’t want to take, every single chance away from you
So take from me this gift of flight
this opportunity grand
and when you say hello to the night
you’ll know I would follow you there
But you’ll just have a head start
And maybe someone who brings you modern doughnuts from the little shop
down the street for no reason

“The span of my hips.” by Julia on her couch


Sunday October 27, 2013
10:19pm
5 minutes
Phenomenal Woman
Maya Angelou


You don’t know this but I will roar. The size of me is greater than the size of you. My anger moves mountains. My kindness moves them back. I’m sick to my core when I think of the pit that lives there. It collects it all, shakes it around, and fills me to the brim with spite and power and rage and honesty. I cannot lie. I cannot, will not, cannot lie. And you don’t know this, but I will roar. I will blow the determination of a thousand armies through your heart and punish you there with the real hurt from my stomach lining. I will make you fear the day you see me at my most. I will make you rue the day you witness what my strength allows me to do. The journey of my mind, the span of my wings, my hips, my dreams. I’m everything and I am full of the aching. You don’t know this, but I will roar. From the ocean floor to the sky’s vast ceiling, I exist and I change, I sway and I remain. I am courageous. I am bright.
I am not waiting for you to know this.

“I really cannot tell you with what it was filled” by Sasha on the dock at Knowlton Lake


Wednesday, July 31, 2013
4:23pm
5 minutes
Kwaidan
Lafcadio Hearn


When my dream broke, a Camry full of Mexican boys was cat-calling, as I pedalled as hard as I possibly could. It was a slow incline, the kind that you don’t even feel when you’re driving. The dream was that I would be tough enough, strong enough, focused enough, committed enough, to ride my bike across the continent. I had sworn off the tank top because it drew too much attention, it was reflective and fluorescent, and I didn’t need anything else drawing eyes to me, a pull that I’d never had before. I was roasting in my black cotton T-shirt, soaked through over five hours ago. I had to put on the tank top, I had no choice. The Camry boys liked it, the tank top, they told me so, at least I think that’s what they were saying.

I felt the dream break like a meringue. I felt it fall off of me, onto the road. Crumble, break, crumble. I couldn’t even look over my shoulder and take one last look at it. I could hardly breathe, suddenly, which was strange given that I’d already been riding for over two months. I was in the best shape of my life. What was next, now? Now that my dream was being eaten by a donkey?

“Never seen by waking eyes.” by Julia on her bed


Tuesday, April 16, 2013
12:29am
5 minutes
A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky
Lewis Carroll


Only a dream or a lullaby. One your grandmother sang you. One your mother’s best friend cried about the day you buried her. It was a lot of picking up the pieces, and trying to remember. Trying to turn photographs into living incarnations so the room didn’t feel so cold; so empty. We escaped, the rest of us. The ones left to grieve. Escaped only in some ways, trapped in all the others. You said something about butterflies and visions. She’d be in one of those, maybe, or in an ice cream cone, or a baby’s laugh. No one had taken the time to agree on what she’d be and in what sign you’d look for her. Your father wanted butterflies. Your baby sister wanted angels because that’s what she thought owls were. You didn’t know. You thought both would be fine, but there’s a reason you couldn’t fully see it. Your eyes saw it slightly, but your everything else, your soul, saw nothing of the like. Dark and thick. You tried to make it out, to explain to everyone with words what words could not explain. Not a lighthouse, like her best friend suggested. Not a dove or a miracle. Just the sky. Maybe all encompassing sky would be the right one.