“The person we think we are” by Julia at her desk

Sunday September 22, 2019
9:53pm
5 minutes
The Art of Purposeful Being”
Philip Winkelmans MA

It’s not a scar she wears on the back of
her knee, you cannot see perfectly this
little thing, unless the right light is
shining on it, call it cosmic, or call
it the soul…not so little after all,
this thing roars like a banshee and
tonight when she found black mould on
the counter top she lost her own as if
it had caught on fire and needed to be
launched immediately from
the premises. But this was no ordinary
nemesis, it was after all the soul
quietly deciding it will not sit quietly
inside of her any more and the real flame
came from denying the tiny voice begging
and then blaming the lack of control
on the other human in the room whose soul
was not looking for a war tonight.

She thought she was good.
Instead she was this.

“Are you Joaquin or River?” By Sasha at her kitchen table

Saturday February 9, 2019
2:16pm
5 minutes
From a voicemail message

It’s a call to arms
the sound of three thousand
trumpets at dawn
waking the birds even
waking the sky

a war cry and

I’m nothing
in the face of this strength

I’m quaking in my combat boots
shaking in my conviction
or maybe that’s fear

Sand in my eyes
wonder in my belly
This is not what
my father said it
would be

Came home flag draped
and empty my mother
spoke his name only
in whispers until
she draped herself too

saying she can’t lose
another

“you can experience racism” By Julia on her couch


Wednesday September 14, 2016
11:06pm
5 minutes
from a tweet

Did you know that if you can think it, it already exists somewhere on the internet? Because it’s a dark and twisted jungle and some people don’t know how to find their way home after getting lost in it. Anything you can think of at all. Sure, it would take a little digging. You’d have to be good at searching. But for every good thought you’ve ever had, someone has beat you to one like it somewhere online. And for every bad thought you’ve ever had, someone has beat you to 10. At least. The ratios do not lie. We’re more alike in this life than we’d ever like to admit. My bad thoughts, fleeing, your bad thoughts breeding and burying their eggs all over the web. It’s the only place where there always exists someone more hurt than you.

“I had to let her know” By Julia in her bed


Tuesday September 13, 2016
11:18pm
5 minutes
from a Facebook post

Words unspoken turned into her next studio album
I wished she would have thanked me in the liner notes
Some of her best songs were un-fought wars about me
And some of her most beautiful lyrics
Were silent wishes tucked away and forgotten
I would have liked to explain myself
I would have liked to be understood before the divide instead of because of it
Too many resolutions gleaned from the backs of our sleeping heads facing opposite walls
And all the haunting melodies I will hum to myself forever
now that they are stuck inside my dreams

“gals give some sneaky hints” by Sasha on the plane flying West


Tuesday February 24, 2015
6:35pm
5 minutes
blog.muchmusic.com

Don’t get your back up all hunchy
I’m not tryna make a big mess
I’ve got this cat’s cradle across my body
And you’re fighting fighting fighting
The war-cry was the radio
Set to a station I don’t like
The advertisements are the liquor
Ouch ouch ouch
Paper-cut across the boundaries
Blurry and sweaty and new
Ouch ouch ouch
No one’s bleeding
It’s going to be alright
Eventually the clouds change
Yup
That always happens
Eventually we change
Yup yup
Ouch ouch ouch
That always happens

“we are in a war to the death” by Sasha in the air


Wednesday February 18, 2015
10:30am
5 minutes
The War of Art
Steven Pressfield


When we found the wreckage
we weren’t sure what we were seeing
Arms there
And eyelashes
Fingers and collarbones

You made a joke about the apocalypse
I ate a chocolate bar
We had sex
The sky was purple and grey

We are in a war
Death is there
Yes
And so is the morning

Fires burn low
Bright like when we used to dream about
Hollywood
You’re skeptical of kindness

“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

“I watch a news clip of” by Julia at Jessica’s kitchen table


Wednesday July 9, 2014
8:43pm
5 minutes
We Should Do Something
Laurel Leigh


On the radio there is a big discussion about will we go to war or won’t we
I sit on the bathroom floor with a towel over my head and a stick of beef jerky in my mouth
I haven’t spoken to you in days
I haven’t spoken to anyone in weeks
The radio man plays the same songs and the same commercials and the same sound effects
He asks us about our days but doesn’t wait for a response
He asks us about our fears but
doesn’t give us a chance to answer
I haven’t spoken to you in days
I haven’t spoken to anyone in weeks
The war is on the war is off
I sit on the bathroom floor just thinking about it all.

“Safety pocket” by Sasha at her desk


Wednesday March 5, 2014
10:33pm
5 minutes
the box of matches

I’m not sorry for calling your name in my sleep and waking up my wife. I’m not sorry. See, I never told her about you and I had no choice now and that was a good thing. I can’t blame you on PTSD. I can’t blame you on rum. I can’t blame you on forgetting that I had a wife and twin girls and a blue doored house back home. I’m not sorry.

Okay. I hear you, Eric. But when you arrived today you said you felt “sorry”. That was your word. Why did you say that?

Because I’m sorry that Rebecca feels betrayed. That’s her word. “You fucking betrayed us!” She screamed. And she doesn’t just speak for herself. She speaks for the girls, too. That’s the worst part. And it’s true, I guess. I did. But she doesn’t know what it’s like there. She doesn’t know that Kabul smells like fresh baked bread and that the women have eyes like wolves.

“Every time we drop our bombs” by Sasha at her desk


Friday, April 19, 2013
8:12pm
5 minutes
A quote by Martin Luther King Jr.

There was a shooting star
Somewhere in another atmosphere
The moment the explosion happend
And someone wished
Somewhere in another galaxy
That we’d quit our worrying
That we’d stop our whining

“Silly, human beings,”
That someone thought
“Always so concerned.”
I am

Now
A radio-voice
Calls the bluff of the 9-1-1
A radio-voice
Says that
They are at war
Better yet
WE are at WAR

They were running
Through the finish line
Exuberant
Alive
A sudden snap
Shrapnel?
Ankle?
Hope?
Resistance?
Was the man in the baseball hat smiling?
A bag too heavy for the little one to lift

Every time we drop our bombs
That somebody
Shakes her head
Furrows her brows
Wishes on whatever she can find
That one day
One day not too far from this day
We’ll finally
Get it

“Everything is all right” by Sasha at her desk


Sunday, March 17, 2013
11:30pm
5 minutes
Dharma Bums
Jack Kerouac


She smells like tangerines. You instantly love her. If you showed me that love I would keel over in laughter (and, maybe, tears), I would keel over in gratitude to God. “You smell like onions and tuna fish, Mom,” is what I get. First Grade Teacher love, okay. I get it. She smells like tangerines, she gives you yellow happy face stickers when you do well on a spelling test, she’s the one who is telling you that you’re smart, you’re creative, you’re special. “Miss Fleck says that it’s going to be an early spring!” You come home with a crepe paper flower crown on your head. “Miss Fleck says that we should give away half our Halloween candy to the Sugar Fairy!” You do, incredibly, with the self-restraint of a monk. Right down the garbage shoot. “Miss Fleck says that even though there’s that war on terror going on, everything is going to be all right!” You are smiling, one of your front teeth wobbling so much I can’t help but smile too. Miss Fleck, bright blue eyes and short cropped hair, I am glad that you are teaching my boy. Tangerines. Ha.