“you need to do better, Kev.” By Sasha at her desk

Monday July 1, 2019
6:50pm
5 minutes
From an instagram story

Kev keeps bringing me chocolates and I’ve told him not to a million times and he just keeps doing it and I don’t know what to even say anymore. I’ve asked him nicely, like, “Hey, I know you are trying to do something sweet and I appreciate you for thinking of me and bringing me a gift but please stop bringing me chocolate.” I’ve laid down the law, “Kev, I’ve told you before, do not bring me chocolate or anything sugary!” I’ve even tried to be really honest, “I do not have a healthy relationship with these things and having them around isn’t good for me! You need to do better, Kev!” But then, he comes to visit last weekend and what does he arrive with? A big ass box of Purdy’s. ARGH!

“I lied all the time” by Julia at her desk


Thursday May 11, 2017
10:04pm
5 minutes
from a quote by Louis C.K
Sunbeams of The Sun (May 2017 issue)


five years old, Nonna visits,
leaves her face creams tubed in the upstairs bathroom
curious, five years old, sneaks into the upstairs bathroom
counts the black tile, counts the white,
opens the cream, smears it on, five years old,
closes it, runs away to pretend that nothing is out of the ordinary
mother, thirty-five years old, yells at all of us
because one of us, five years old, left the tubes partially open
Nonna wants to know who would, since she wouldn’t
five years old wants to blame it on the upstairs bathroom ghost
thirty-five years old asks flame on lips for the last time,
shoots missile from eyes, no prisoners
five years old, scared, ashamed, caught, decides to lie
blames it on the upstairs bathroom ghost,
learns guilt, confesses
one hour later

“they fought amongst themselves” by Julia at her desk


Wednesday May 10, 2017
9:42pm
5 minutes
True Confessions Of Adrian Albert Mole
Sue Townsend


It took a long time for us to go back and visit
the pussy willow tree overgrowing the back deck
so much they chopped it down in all the impulsive
places
the gold stars sponge painted on the downstairs bathroom walls
the office converted into a nursery
the playroom now belonging to the boy who once
convinced me to show him my orange star underwear
They smiled sweetly at us like they weren’t responsible
for making us move to a better town filled with
worse people
they never apologized for the pussy willow tree
or the black berry bush
or the playroom
they volly whispers back and forth
about asking us if we’d like something to eat,
a danish or a banana

“Elevated stress response” by Sasha at Prado Cafe


Friday October 2, 2015 at Prado Cafe on Commercial
12:37pm
5 minutes
Epigenetics
Richard C. Frances


My mother makes the bed with tucked in corners. That generation’s dying, right? No one does that anymore. No one teaches their children how to do that… Maybe nurses, or hotel workers, or… I don’t know. When she comes to visit she brings cake from scratch and flowers from Costco. She calls the week before to ask Lindy what kind of cake she wants. Lindy takes her time deciding – chocolate, or lemon, or pound cake, or strawberry shortbread. I let Lindy decide, without interrupting, or adding in my preference. The doctor says that it’s good for her to make choices without interference. I get on the phone after and ask my mother what time she’ll arrive. “I’ll leave Ottawa first thing so I should be at yours by afternoon?” “Yours”. Who says that anymore? “Sounds good, Mum.” I say. “Sounds good, Mum.” Lindy parrots.

“element of courage” by Julia at Abney Park Cemetery


Tuesday December 30, 2014
2:58pm
5 minutes
from a crossword puzzle

I suppose it takes a lot of guts to tell you this. Me siting here on a broken tree root, trying to decide if I care about the Italian Poplar trees that are so blatantly marked, and staring into your new home, wishing you didn’t have to stay in that earthy place alone. You’ve been gone for 4 weeks now. I am counting down the days to when I don’t count down the days anymore. I am giving myself some time until then to come see you and talk to you, or not, or cry, or cry more than yesterday. But what the bravery is now is telling you that I’m going to be okay. Before I didn’t want to admit that that was a possibility; that I could ever manage to break through this heartache and live a full life without you. Now I know that that’s the only thing I can do. I don’t know if I’ll still feel this way tomorrow. But today I felt like I just had to let you know.

“he had heard on the phone” by Sasha on her couch


Sunday February March 2 2014
12:02am
5 minutes
The Murder Room
P.D James


That Margaret would be late, that she’d sprained her ankle played dodge ball and was taking the later bus. He felt his heart sink a little, because he didn’t want to miss out on a single moment with her. Louise’s voice sounded strained, but that wasn’t anything new. “I can’t drive her because I’m going to the Opera,” she said. “Okay,” he responded, wishing that they lived closer, wishing that he hadn’t gotten that DUI so that he could pick her up himself. “She’s got a book report due on Tuesday so you’re going to have to help her with finishing the reading. She’s slow.” Louise was distracted, he heard loud thuds. “What are you doing?” He asked. “Chopping parsnips. Why?” She said. “Margaret should really stay off her leg so maybe you should send a taxi to get her at the station?” “I always do,” he yawned. “Am I boring you, Gus?” He chose not to answer that. “Is she eating whole wheat bread?” “It’s not up to her. She eats what we give her. We’re her parents. We guide her…” He rolled his eyes and said, “Okay, Louise. I should go.”

“valid for all countries” by Sasha in a taxi on the Gardiner Expressway


Friday March 1, 2013
2:13am
5 minutes
A Canadian Passport

He stamped hard
“Welcome to Zimbabwe”
He looked up
And in
“Welcome to your home”
My eyes are light
Betraying my mother’s whiteness
“Beautiful girl” he says
I wait
For confirmation
That I can put
One foot
The other foot
One foot
The other foot
You call it walking
I call in phoenix from the flame
Get my pack
Wait almost an hour
You must be waiting
You must be waiting
You won’t have made a sign
You won’t run towards me
You won’t even recognize me in 3D
The picture on your fridge is from the summer
I shaved my head
The summer
I drank rum and diet coke
The summer I forgot to call you on your birthday
You’ve brought Danika
She’s tall now
Up to your shoulder
Half-sister
Half-father
Half-and-half
We’re the new race taking over the world
The half-this-half-that
Half-east-half-west
My mother’s proud of her cornrows