“The sunset was worth it” by Julia in her bed

Thursday October 25, 2018
11:24pm
5 minutes
From a Roots ad

It had been at least six months and one week since they had seen the sunset. A hundred plus a hundred nights of missed opportunity. Beth had begged (a risk that didn’t look good on her) him to walk down to the water with her. He kept saying yes with his mouth and no with the rest of him. She could have gone on her own but she didn’t see that as an option. How is one supposed to see anything when the light in the room has changed. Hero stopped asking Beth to go down to the water with him. As if he was punishing her for wanting it so badly. After all, she could have gone on her own if she really wanted to see the sunset that badly. But it wasn’t about the sunset and both of them knew it.

“Hear splash blue” by Julia in Amanda’s bed

Saturday August 4, 2018
1:53am
5 minutes
Here Room Sleeps
Dale Smith

She’s the colour of the sky

You’d think I meant blue but

I mean lime green

It’s that line that hovers in between the pink and the purple

It does a good job of loving me there

She does

Oh I’m the sunset then I guess

And sometimes she’s the whole sky

And sometimes she’s the sun too

I don’t know what colour I am to her but she is the lime green to me because she is the in-between

The always centred

The glowing line of equilibrium

She is subtle and yet she makes the whole picture sing

When she’s not the whole sky she is the reason the whole sky wakes up

She is the sun and the lime green and the sky and I am happy she is above me and she is above me

That’s where she should stay

“The sun has risen but gives off no warmth.” by Julia at the desk

Tuesday July 24, 2018
11:24pm
5 minutes
Waiting for the Barbarians
J.M. Coetzee

On days like these I rise heavy, rub the sleep heavy
from my eyes heavy, and nod off on the hot bus.
I carry the heavy thing I’ve borrowed in the heavy sun.
I carry all of it pressed in the furrow of my brow-
the one that confuses people, Is she okay? Is she mad?
This morning’s sun burnt a hole in my head and reminded
me of it every second after it. I could have moved my
face but I was smitten there, sitting there, luxuriating
in the imminent ache. I might say I know better but on days
like these I don’t know what I know, if anything. The heavy
is only heavy until you put it down. I could put it down
and catch my breath for a minute, write a song, say hello
to the man with no teeth, nodding at me from the passenger
seat of the helping van. Later, I will watch the sun set
inch by inch to prove that even this shall pass. When the
sun stops, I take off my pack and rest.

“stop on the platform” by Julia at her desk


Thursday May 18, 2017
7:45pm
5 minutes
Graduation FAQ

if there is a time for watching sunsets, it is now
the sky puts on a show and we are all allowed to love it
you are my walking Cuckoo clock, I always know what
time it isn’t, I’m surprised that it still surprises you

The ad in the subway has an hour glass and the words
“tick tock”
The rest is too small to see
I don’t know what it’s for, but it looks dangerous
who ever though to put hours in something so fragile,
and what if it breaks open and we don’t ever
get them back?

if the sky wants to dance, who am I to turn my back
there is time for beauty in this place too
when it is the nourishment keeping us in motion

“happiness is a fantastic vicious circle” by Julia on her couch


Tuesday, July 14, 2015
6:47pm
5 minutes
The Wisdom of Insecurity
Alan W. Watts


This is how my happiness starts:
Home early on a Saturday,
no one around for miles and miles.
Clear skies, beautiful sunset,
watching from my rooftop patio,
sipping on fancy rum.
Singing at full voice to the clouds,
and to the moon,
not caring about anything,
no one around for miles and miles.
Oreo milkshake for dinner,
extra cookies crumbled on top,
pounding through peanut butter ginger chews,
take a break to toast some crusty bread,
melt some fancy cheese.
Alone and eating and loving and eating,
it starts that way and then it repeats.

“She was in a pure state,” by Julia at Jess and Rick’s kitchen table


Saturday, April 17, 2015
9:11pm
5 minutes
100 Essays I Don’t Have Time To Write
Sarah Ruhl


she stared out the window regretting all the missed moments
the missed targets
the missed connections
where did they all go?
did they find a home inside someone else’s heart?
she watched as the water swooshed up onto the beach
washing away the seconds that were there before
purifying the spot where sadness and helplessness like to procreate
she stared out the window
thankful for all of nature’s help
cleansing the pallet and offering up a blank space
for her to scrawl the initials of a life painting worthy of a name
I’m sorry
she hummed to the nothingness
I’m finished with that one
she whispered to the nobodys
I’m better now
she believed to the quiet
I’m making room for the good
she promised to the sunset

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


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

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

“If you don’t have it” by Julia at Cultura Italiana


Wednesday October 22, 2014 at Cultura Italiana
2:21pm
5 minutes
A recipe for millet banana bread

crazy days were behind us
we saw the sun
and the sunset moon
it was something to dream about
didn’t want to dream alone
crazy breeze
inside the hope’s heart
with a candle left burning
if you don’t have it
you can’t miss it
when it’s gone
crazy days
were hidden tightly
inside the cracks of the bark
the old lived rings of
time past
we saw the sun
and the sunset moon
it was better
than the memory
in that little moment
that tiny one just for us
if you don’t have it
you can’t wish it
was something else
or something
better
for words
otherwise
just pouring out of
fingertips, cut open
just like the blood
of the emotionless fight
it makes sense
because it doesn’t have to
and in a world without rules
it is the only thing
we can understand
and we try
and we listen
but we mostly try to keep
all the magic that we used to know
somewhere deep in the pockets
of time

“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

“Physically he had changed” by Julia at her desk


Friday May 10, 2013
5:20pm
5 minutes
The Boys Of Summer
Roger Kahn


What makes a beautiful moment? He wondered, out loud, maybe.
Was it the way her hair softly fell into her eyes when you were looking deep into them…then the wind came, and you just had to smile? Was it the only time in the day where you felt true silence but that’s because your heart was buzzing so consistently that it felt like nothing at all?
He kept his eyes focused on his feet, shuffling back and forth, back and forth. If he lifted his gaze for even a second, he knew it would be the end of him. She wasn’t standing in front of him then, but he imagined her there. He got shy in his arms, his legs, his mouth.
I love you. He said, out loud, for sure this time. To nobody; to the soft breeze. To the sunset.
I love you more in this beautiful moment than I ever have.
His fingers formed a knot with each other, his knuckles popping out in all kinds of weird formations. He was different than he was before he met her. He was physically different, changed even, and he was very much okay with it.
You’re the only one. He sang, out loud, and internally.
Now that he knew her, he didn’t want to revert back to anything that he used to feel or think before this. Before this beautiful moment.

“Fingerman, saw this as a good thing.” by Julia at her desk


Monday, April 22, 2013
1:06am
5 minutes
Twenty Something
Robin Marantz Henig and Samantha Henig


Of course it was a good thing, it was the only thing. It shone like a red crescent moon that begged the question “are we even still alive?” It was his way of analysing me, of telling me that life is good and things in it are on a temporary wheel, just spinning spinning until they’re not anymore. He was vague like that. Like a sunset. Sort of beautiful in all its ambiguity. It was a good thing. The answers to life’s more tedious demands. It was a humour-filled narrative. Something like that. It’s all a dream now anyway.
He was resting his aching feet by the water, just dipping the bottom of his slacks into the salty edge to get wet enough to cool him. He didn’t mind his pants being ruined. He was sitting pleasantly in that moment. The one between sleep and awake, the one where nothing bad could touch him. He was on his own plain then, trying to convince me of my own beauty and my talent. I didn’t want him to know that I already believed him. His poetry beguiled me. Made me into a woman without difficulty. I was never anxious in his presence. He had a way with words back then…