“Water music” by Julia on the 84

Monday October 2, 2017

10:03pm

5 minutes

Major Orchestral Works

Felix Mendelssohn

On the night I saw my reflection I was wearing a wolf mask

I looked into the lines of my face

(of the faces that have howled before mine)

And wept for the good me that was left behind

Sorrow mixing with salt

Forgiveness twisted into wave

I opened my throat to give

something that swung

at the pit of me

I did not ask why happiness had been so cruel

I did not beg to be understood

“The waters here” by Julia at 49th Paralell


Thursday August 10, 2017
2:56pm
5 minutes
The Lonely Planet Bali and Lombok

I scooped up the sea in my hand and drank at the thought of you.
“I wish you were here” might be carved into my belly.
Yesterday, the croon of the waves kissed my shoulder blade the way you used to. It’s nice to be touched by your memory when you are far away. I gave my salt right back to the source. We laughed a little at the impermanence of things that never belonged to us in the first place. our dreams, on loan from the sky and the breeze and the gentle hereafter.

“The waters here” by Sasha at her desk


Thursday August 19, 2017
1:12pm
5 minutes
The Lonely Planet Bali and Lombok

It hasn’t rained in ninety days. Pap checks off each one that passes by on the calendar beside his chair and we wait we wait we wait we wait. Nothing to do but wait. Gemma’s read all of Nancy Drew and I’ve got her knitting mittens for the winter. She’s almost done. These poor kids, they can’t go outside. Too hot. Too dry. Rusty goes, he can’t help himself, but he comes in coughing and wheezing and Pap looks to me like it’s my fault I didn’t chain him down.

“The wind streaked in from a thousand kilometers of Atlantic” by Sasha on her balcony


Wednesday July 26, 2017
9:18pm
5 minutes
The Enemy Stars
Poul Anderson


I’m riding the waves all the way out to the middle of the sea
I’m not as familliar with the Atlantic but it’s okay it’s okay
Marjorie wrote recipes on her fingertips and then pressed them into my back
A tattoo of butter
of mushrooms
of rain
I manage to hold on even though the wind’s picking up and
don’t be afraid of falling overboard
Don’t be afraid of the best of the worst
Marjorie made me a fried egg for breakfast the morning I left
crispy edges on whole wheat toast

“wild horses” by Julia at her desk


Saturday June 3, 2017
10:45pm
5 minutes
from the microsoft home-screen

On the road trip, Marco presents the game called Animals.
It’s simple, really, when you see an animal, you yell out what it is.
My favourite one to yell is HORSES.
Marco’s favourite is GOATS.
We’ve been playing since the bad burgers and the overpriced fruit.
Marco won’t let me drive even though he’s nodded off twice. I told him
he could rest if he wanted, but he didn’t want me to miss all of the
waterfalls, happening exclusively on my side.
I try to present the game called Water Falls.
But only I can play. Marco can’t take his eyes off the road
on this mountain because every turn is very important.
After we stop for gas and retape the underside of our car,
Marco snapps at me for trying to put down his sun visor and blocking his view.

“it will be a tight squeeze” by Julia at her desk


Saturday May 27, 2017
10:47pm
5 minutes
http://www.onceuponachef.com

She sits on a bench near the water with her sunglasses on
She stares down the sun
She waits for a change in the air to speak

“Let me say out loud all of the things I need to do”
“Again?”
“It helps me. Please?”
“Okay so 8:30pm is dinner…”
“More like 9. 9pm is dinnner. By the time we pick up the food, lay it out, set it up–”
“–Fine, 9.”
“Fine, 9. And then I have to review my materials.”
“And that’s going to take a long time?”
“It’s going to take as long as it takes. But I can also do it in the morning.”
“Okay, that doesn’t sound like a lot to get done!”
“I’m not finished listing.”
“Okay…”
“I have to make sure I have a change of clothes. I need something for every weather system because I won’t be coming home. I need to make sure my bag is big enough for everything. I need to lay out what I’m wearing. I have to shower–Goddammit! I have to shower too?”

“with one hundred hands each” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Thursday March 16, 2017
10:30pm
5 minutes
Age Of Bronze Betrayal
Eric Shanower


Stepping into the water
you aren’t sure if you’ve been
here before
Your twenties are a blur
One hundred hands reach out
to touch you and you close
your eyes because you aren’t
sure if this is ecstasy
or hell
Vic stands on the shore
cheering you on
even though you never
asked them to
There’s a sand bar that
stretches out really far
and when you turn back
to see Vic
they are smaller than a
lego man
Eventually there’s a drop off
and you dive under water
and you are flooded with
all the times you were
afraid

“Fruit can wait” by Sasha in her bed


Friday December 2, 2016
11:22pm
5 minutes
From a text

I listen to music louder now
and pick pomegranate seeds out of their
cozy wombs in the morning before I
turn on my phone and see anything
outside the walls of our belonging.

I worry less about saving
what’s best for last
Because all we have is now and
even water is tarnished and breakable
and able to be colonized.

“it really is used” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Monday September 5, 2016
11:32am
5 minutes
from a schedule

Sometimes I think about you. I wonder strange things. Are you drinking enough water? Do you have any tattoos? I don’t wormhole down a Google search or a Facebook stalk. I languish in the space between questions about how you might have changed, the shape of your lips, the smell of the back of your neck. It is there were I find stillness, in the wondering. It is there I find comfort, and trust, and faith in the goodness of us. Are you drinking enough water?

“where the water is still” by Sasha at the kitchen counter


Thursday July 7, 2016
11:39pm
5 minutes
Cranes and Egrets
Marlene Cookshaw


“When you swim far out, way out past the break, past where the waves are tall as houses, the water is still…” Granny eats a piece of honeydew, the juice dripping down her chin. She wipes it with the back of her hand. “You have to be very brave to swim out that far, you have to be bigger than you are… Fifteen or sixteen. It takes strength of mind an’ body, you see, an’ something else, too…” At this time of night her accent gets thick. “You need the determination, the power that comes along with really believing in yourself.” She swats at a mosquito. “I used to spend hours and hours out there, in the still water, thinking up what might happen. I’m more of a future person than a past person. Past people, they’re more apt to get all depressive. Future people? Like me? Anxiety… But on the still water, floating on my back an’ my front an’ treading water – just calm.”

“where the water is still” by Julia at Starbucks


Thursday July 7, 2016 at Starbucks
6:59am
5 minutes
Cranes and Egrets
Marlene Cookshaw


I will meet you there at our favourite spot
the one where we feel like we’re in our own little world
early in the morning before the rest of the ones who need the sun
even see it
where the water is still
where the sail boats line up so perfectly
camping on the ocean
When you need to remember why we chose each other
when you need to feel big in your smallness
I will
I will always.
I will meet you there
at our favourite spot
where the moments feel full
and little ducks rest on rocks
the one where we’re one
with each other
and with the sky

“We were two ships in the night” by Sasha on her porch


Wednesday April 20, 2016
10:43pm
5 minutes
Capsized
You+Me


We were two ships in the night for twenty nine nights too long and then I lost you. The unnamed cousin of the Bermuda Triangle, you must’ve been swept up in a wave or a gust of wind, powerful and smelling of seaweed and broken bottles.

I looked for you, sails ragged and ropes broken, but only found a lantern and a tree stump. Remains of something that was once so precious, so present, so tangible.

I call to you sometimes, in my sleep. At least that’s what my lover says, brow furrowed.

“awaken in the morning’s hush” by Sasha at the Diamond Centre


Tuesday February 2, 2016
4:18pm
5 minutes
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye


I awaken in the hush of morning
Sleep stretched like a thin veil across the sky
Tiptoe out of the bedroom
so as not to wake you
so as not to break the spell of sensuous silence
The wood is cold under my feet
Nipples harden
Are the blinds down?
Will a neighbour catch a glimpse?
Fill the kettle with water
Fill the glass with water
Slice into the acidic flesh of the lemon
Watch as the juice mixes
Watch as the water boils
Watch as dawn becomes day

“I will go to the river” by Julia at Souzan’s apartment


Sunday September 13, 2015
12:36am
5 minutes
Jewish Fairy Tale Feasts
Tales retold by Jane Yolen


If you close your eyes and stretch out your hands I promise I’ll lead you to safety. Trust me. I’ll sing that to you until you believe me. I’m in no rush. I’m in no hurry. I’ll take you to the river and I’ll wait with you there. When you’re ready you can expand and when you’re ready you can lift up and soar. I’m in no rush. I’m in no hurry. Trust me. I hear the water in my sleep and it calms me, draws me in. I know the route to the moments worth keeping like I know my own nail beds, like I know my own smell. I will go again and again because I never tire of its medicine. I never tire of the healing that sets me free.

“that’s a dumb simile” by Julia at Souzan’s apartment


Thursday, September 3, 2015
11:32pm
5 minutes
overheard on the street

compare her to the sky and she’ll melt before your eyes
with a softness in her curl
a smile unbeknownst to her

Draw her like the sea and she’ll grow until she’s free
with a calmness in her song
wisdom there all along

Dance her like the sun and she’ll be your warmest one
with a lightness in her face
shining in the world’s embrace

Love her like the night and she’ll always hold you tight
with a mystery in her touch
radiant gold-speckled hush

“The stress that I have been carrying around with me” by Julia at Barb’s house in Vernon


Wednesday, September 2, 2015
9:40pm
5 minutes
Teach Only Love
Gerald G. Jampolsky, M.D.


Oh it’s like a sack of potatoes just weighing down my shoulders, you see? I never once thought of an image quite like that before! It’s actually thrilling to be creative in this way. Hmm. Let’s see, how else would I describe my stress? Well, I suppose I could say, if I’m really going deep here, is that it’s like a 4 year old who refuses to walk on his own and is nothing but dead weight because he’s desperate for attention or something like that. You know the way children act out when they’re not getting what they want, and they throw tantrums, and you can barely drag them around, let alone carry them? Oh dear, I’m afraid that one got a little further away from me than I was expecting. The truth is, I know a lot about these things and those memories that just sort of add up and when I let myself, they all come flooding back to the surface. I’m understanding now that all I needed to say was the refuses to walk on his own bit. The rest just seems superfluous. Either way, we were discussing what my stress feels like. It also feels like a cement block tied around my ankle right before I’ve been thrown into the water….

“grabbed by the notion” by Julia on the 505 going West


Tuesday, July 21, 2015
11:28pm
5 minutes
from a letter to a celebrity

I’m on the ocean
The waves are healing me
I’m looking deep
In the cave in my chest
I’m on the ocean
The water is curing me
I’m holding tight
To the magic underneath

I remember these words better than I remember my own address. They’ve been sung into my soul so many times that they’re practically mine, top to bottom. Grandma used to sing it to me before bed. She dreamed of the ocean, and taking me there to live with her. When Aunt Christina passed away, Grandma said she knew a place where I wouldn’t feel any pain. She asked Mom if I could go but Mom said, You’re not leaving me too, not now, not ever. And Grandma tried so long to get me there. I didn’t know how much Mom hated to be alone.

“Overthinking it” by Sasha in the cabin on Galiano


Sunday, June 21, 2015
9:11am
5 minutes
from a tweet

“You’re overthinking it, Cece!”
“Am not!”
“Just do it!”
“AH! I’m scared!”
“Just jump! We’re all waiting for you!”
“But – ”
“Shit or get off the pot, honey!”
“Be quiet, DAD!”
“You can do it, Cece!”
“Ce-ce! Ce-ce! Ce-ce!”

Cece jumps, after thirty six minutes of prompting and agonizing and feeling rushed and feeling afraid. She jumps and the water’s colder than she expected. She sees a flash of the woman she never imagined she’d become. She sees strong arms and a heart unencumbered by potential betrayal, or loss, or ecstasy. When she surfaces, Felix is there and he kisses her on the cheek and says, “You did it, Cec. You actually did it. None of us thought you could, or would, we thought you could, I thought you could, but I didn’t think that you would.”

“Dessert is an apricot tart” by Julia on her bed


Thursday May 21, 2015
11:40pm
5 minutes
SAVEUR magazine
issue 152


And happiness is a sailing ship
the ocean strong
the wind fair
gliding across the water
a beacon of hope
a sign of peace
we all tilt our strained chins to the earth
and we sigh
breathe out
that’s the final taste
that’s the summer sun warming up the frigid ground
And dessert is an apricot tart
the filling sweet
the pastry light
being passed around the after party
a moment of indulgence
a gesture of great care
we all throw our anchored heads back against the sofa
and we laugh

“always more for less!” By Sasha on her couch


Thursday, April 15, 2015
11:14pm
5 minutes
A Food Basics store sign

tug of war over the land again
birch bark and salmon skin ripped from
their bodies
their roots
my feet in rainboots
cracks in the plastic
the water always finds a way in
how can we make peace with injustice?
should we?
can i?
pinecones marking the sacrificial trail
a tuft of rabbit fur
a shark’s tooth

“Welcome visitors from Denmark” by Sasha on the 99 going West


Saturday April 4, 2015
10:01pm
5 minutes
from a school sign

cold coffee in a pottery mug made by hands that know the fault lines of a woman’s body
too much almond milk and a dash of vanilla
denmark feels far with so much water between
honey
lick the lip
guard the contents
a lioness
not sure about the night on these flower streets
not sure about eye contact or road signs or lazy feet
unrolling the mat is the hardest part
once you’re there the truth flows
honey
lick the lip
once you’re there the streetlight doesn’t forget anyone
her hips are the mantra i’ve been waiting for

“Welcome to the playground of the future” by Sasha in her bed


Sunday March 29, 2015
2:13pm
5 minutes
A TIFF kids TTC ad

When you care for me it’s like a wave crashing
Salt on my cheeks
Hair a little bit wet and a little bit greasy
The sound is gentler though
Water in the morning
A bit more still
I say “sorry” because you don’t want me to say “thank you”
because I need to say something
because it’s hard to just accept this unconditional love
Gulls circle
Tempting me towards awkward paranoia
Leading me down sand dunes that are riddled with
photographs
mixed tapes
black socks with holes in the toes
I want to cling to you like a barnacle
my desire calcifying on your chest
I want to swim next to your freedom like a dolphin
My fingers grazing the possibility of your soft wet skin

“nothing has ever summed me up so succinctly” by Julia at her desk


Saturday March 7, 2015
12:54am
5 minutes
from a caitlinjstasey Instagram post

Put me in a bottle, ship me out to sea
I float along like a magic little oyster pearl
and I found the freedom there in a wave’s whisper
caught up real high in conversation
with the night
with the night
She sang “don’t come back again”
but I was long gone by then

Put me in an envelope and ship me out to sea
I bob along like a magic book inside of you
And I found the freedom there in a wave’s anger
Up up and away down
up up and away down low
Cause I would be a million miles away from me

Put me in a memory and ship me out to sea
I’ll crash along the shores all the way there
And I found the freedom there in a wave’s evening dress
she pulled out a letter saying
Who is this from? A letter to my soul…

How does she know
Just what I’m looking for?
And she was caught up real tight in conversation
about lost oyster pearls
With the night
with the night
with the night

“I’f I’m ever lonely” by Sasha on the subway going West


Saturday February 21, 2015
4:11pm
5 minutes
mirandajuly.com

If I’m ever lonely just send me out to sea
Floating on the water
All the fishes and me

If I’m ever lonely I won’t sing this song
I’ll sit in the dark quiet
Thinkin’ what else might go wrong

If I’m ever lonely I’ll make a pot of stew
I’ll chop up some onions
Nothin’ else will do

If I’m ever lonely I’ll lay in my bed
I’ll listen to the clock tick
And rest my weary head

“EVERYTHING IS CHANGING AND EVERYTHING IS STAYING THE SAME” by Sasha in the Irving K Barber Building at UBC


Monday February 2, 2015 at UBC
2:47pm
5 minutes
A tweet by @stgramophone

It’s all happening fast
Not too fast
But fast
It’s all happening like water
Boiling over
Steaming your glasses
Wanting an escape
Everything is changing and
Nothing is staying the same
This is the thing you can count on
Like butter
Like the light
Like the dust bunnies
and the crow feathers
You’re not staying the same either
Silly
You’re changing most of all
Especially now
Now that you’ve realized your regret
is too heavy
Now that you’ve dumped it in the compost
Ready to be turned into next year’s soil

“Inspired by the natural wonders” by Sasha on the pullout at the Angel’s Nest


Thursday January 1, 2015
11:21pm
5 minutes
from an Old Mout Cider pint glass
The trees are doing their belly dancing.
The ferns tickle the moss and the moss tries it’s best not to laugh.
The moon (the light) reflects off the dewy downy forest floor.
Quiet.
Quiet.
You turn away from me and I tuck my toes into yours.
The wood stove hums ancient wisdom of fire and following through.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the glass of the sliding door.
Simple.
My hair is longer than I realized, far down my back now.
You like it like this.
I look into my eyes, beyond my eyes and the forest waits and waits and waits.
You make a small sound that can only be described as a “coo”.

“element of courage” by Sasha at Pearson International Airport


Tuesday December 30, 2014
5:12pm
5 minutes
from a crossword puzzle

you got just the right amount of beauty
not too much that it makes the others curl
you smile like the moon rise
like the full moon rise
and you know those elements of courage
one
a deep seed of bravery
two
a forgetting of childhood fear
three
a quartz crystal compass in your gut
you got those elements of courage
you would walk the cemeteries in the rain
daring the ghosts to dance with you
you would climb the tallest tree
begging the sky to grab you
you would swim deep down
saying
take me water
take me

“32 million tonnes” by Sasha in the Kiva


Saturday December 20, 2014
10:18pm
5 minutes
from a pamphlet about the pipeline

There are 32 million tonnes of ideas in her head
She weaves them together when she’s sleeping
Or
Rather
In those moments between waking and sleep
Sleep and waking
In those times when things are watercolour and soft
She finds one about empathy and she attaches it to another about betrayal
She uses red wool
Spun in a time before time
Spun by fingers that know things minds cannot
She finds an idea about her family
And she casts it out into the water
She sits
Beach bound
Digging her toes into the sand
Waiting for it to come back to her
She’s ready now

“initiates sexuality” by Sasha in the living room at Macdonell


Friday December 19, 2014
3:14pm
5 minutes
Can Love Last?
Stephen A. Mitchell


I give you my wish like a pearl
Unpolished
You reach for my hand like it’s something in the gift shop at the museum
Something precious and old and young and pink
I make you a tiny tent where you can house your disappointments
All in a row
Ordered
How you like things
You bring me a cup of kindness when I’m low
Low low low
Like the water in the Fall

“All of it, kid.” by Julia on her bed


Saturday November 22, 2014
3:06am
5 minutes
From a first draft of a screen play

-You like Ray Charles? You like that song he pours his guts into?
-Georgia?
-Yeah, beautiful right?
-Yeah, the best.
-Everything is the best.
-Right now, yes. Let’s die like this.
-Dance for me first. Before we die happy and perfect, dance as if Ray Charles put music in your veins
-Like this?
-Mmm, yeah, like a little bird, flying high and from the inside out.
-I’m your little bird.
-I’m your biggest fan.
-Mmm.
-Let me lick you. You have no lines on your face. The smoothest skin, no lines at all.
-I’m young and I’m yours and I’m a little bird with Ray Charles blood.
-Mmm, yeah. We can die now.
-Some water first?
-Yeah, you drink then let me taste it from your lips.
-Feed you life…like little birds do…
-Yeah, you dance and feed me, little bird, little bird.

“check into luxury” by Sasha at Higher Grounds


Thursday November 13, 2014 at Higher Grounds
1:32pm
5 minutes
from a Palazzo Di Varignana ad

I’ll give you the key to the luxury
Guard it with your life
Take it to bed
Hide it at night
Under your pillow where your hands stay warm
I’ll give you the kisses and the questions
The moon doesn’t judge
I’m not the one you’re after
It makes me think about mud
There’s a trap under the slick
There’s a leak under the sink
I’m not sure what to tell you
Except the sky is blue and the snow isn’t here yet so
I’m trying to find the right words but it’s hard
It’s hard
You compare success to success but it’s not like that
It’s rounder
It’s more cyclical
The things I can count on are a handful of beans
A handful of promises and wishes and the ocean
It’s still colourful
It’s still water
It’s still morning
Afternoon
Evening
It’s still changing and concrete and sand
Take it to bed
Hide it at night
Under your pillow where your dreams stay warm

“Deerskin or moose hide” by Sasha on the Gulf Islands ferry


Friday October 10, 2014
12:34pm
5 minutes
from firstpeopleofcanada.com

I ride my bike to the ocean
Into the ocean
Into a wave that should be surfed but is rolled on and rolled over
I see the starfish that you spoke of
We nod in mutual understanding
(She doesn’t pretend to know)
I’m pedalling like there’s a hill
But there isn’t
There’s salt
There’s coral
There’s a frequency of whale song
But the whale is hundreds of miles away

Often
The biggest predicament is when I can next walk barefoot

“most honour you” by Julia at Parco Del Colle Oppio


Wednesday September 10, 2014
4:08pm
5 minutes
King Lear
William Shakespeare


A man I can see from the corner of my eye has gone from one side’s fountain to the other side’s fountain back and forth for over an hour now. Sometimes he has his shirt off, sometimes he has it on. He carries a plastic bag with him so I’m assuming from that alone that he stays here most of his time. The first moment I saw him, he was drinking the water and wetting his hands. The second time he was dunking his whole head in it and pouring water down the back of his pants. The third time he washes under his arms. He must have been just trying to keep cool, but he seemed more obsessed with the baptism of something deeper–the purifying of what’s under the skin.

“get started” by Sasha on her porch


Sunday August 24, 2014
12:03am
5 minutes
Semperviva pamphlet

All you need to get started is willingness.
All you need to get started is an open heart.
All you need to get started is breath.
All you need to get started are angel wings.
All you need to get started is a bellybutton.
All you need to get started is a mother that sings to you.
All you need to get started is a charcoal pencil.
All you need to get started is a bottle of water.
All you need to get started is the sunrise.
All you need to get started is a lover who knows how to touch and how to let go.
All you need to get started is a beating heart.
All you need to get started is a sweater from Newfoundland.
All you need to get started is the desire to evolve.
All you need to get started is an invitation.



Here it is.
Here.
Here.
Here.

“Try and make a few local friends” by Julia on her couch


Monday August 18, 2014
1:03am
5 minutes
girlinflorence.com

My motha, she calls me in the middle of the night. She tells me, Keltie, don’t be that girl. I am not that girl, whatever girl she thinks I am, so I say, motha, please, don’t lump me into that group, for the love of christ. She says, Keltie, I don’t want you to be one of those loser girls who sits on her computer all day checking e-mails and how to blogs about growing vegetables indoors but doesn’t actually buy the seeds to do it. I have to take a moment to think about that one, but she doesn’t stop talking. You know, Keltie, you’ve got to be ahead of the crowd and ahead of yourself. Don’t try and hide behind your looks because you’re not fooling anyone and one day someone other than me is going to expect you to actually do something. I’m sitting up in my bed chugging a glass of day old water, trying to watch the tiny fuzz particles as they hid my teeth. I’m staring at the mirror. I’m plucking out stray hairs on inner thigh, fucking Carla forgot to get those white ones we talked about. Yes, uh-huh, I’m still here, I tell her, but she’s hardly even listening. You want to be one of those sad girls who doesn’t make any friends? Keltie? Promise me you’re going to get drunk at least once so you have the confidence to talk to someone other than your vagina. Ma! My vagina? What fresh hell is this conversation right now? She doesn’t answer for the first time. Promise me, Keltie.

“That really hurted!” by Julia at Gimli beach


Sunday, July 27, 2014
4:00pm
5 minutes
overheard at Gimli Beach


Well, I told him not to go into the water but he insisted. He was afraid of it for years so I guess I didn’t think I’d have to worry about it, then one day, or one instant, really, he got up the nerve, ran into the waves, and a big one came and smacked him in the belly.
Not life threatening stuff. He was fine in minutes, really. But he was shaken up for a bit, that’s for sure. He wouldn’t stop talking about how big it all felt. How he wasn’t sure if he could do it again today, but maybe the next time we came. I don’t know what changed his mind. Could have been just the ways of growing up-or it could have been that cute little thing who was playing with her dinosaur floaty. She might have lured him in with all her joy if I had to hazard a guess. I told him, Bobby, those waves are choppy do you see? Might not be the best for your first time so you have to be real careful. He said, Gramma, I know! I have two eyes in my head just like you do! Then he ran off and within seconds he was right back on the blanket with me rubbing his tummy.

“Four letter challenge!” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Sunday June 29, 2014
11:04pm
5 minutes
undergroundpoetry.com

It was the first time
and the last time
It was covered in green glitter
and honeydew breath
It was the first time
and the last time
It was a four letter challenge
and a three letter dance
It was the first time
and the last time
It left more scars on my than you
but I’m okay with that
Scars are currency where I come from
It was the first time
and the last time
We followed the white squirrel
all the way to the river
We took off our sandals
We waded in
Up to our thighs
They could hear our squeals
downtown

“founded in Cuba” by Sasha on the streetcar going East


Friday June 20, 2014
11:20am
5 minutes
from a sign at Queen and Abell St.

The ocean sounds like the sky, if you know what I mean… It looks like Bonita’s eyes, all bright and full. As soon as the sun rises, the waves catch her and hot damn it’s a beautiful sight, it’s a right overwhelming sight. Go down to the beach for that sunrise some time… Some time when you’ve been here long enough to feel settled in, settled in your heart. It’ll just be you and maybe Jose, the fish guy. You don’t even have to say anything to him, you can nod, or not nod, he won’t be offended. Find a spot on the sand and sink your toes in, bury them, that’s the real stuff right there, that’s the real stuff. You can actually see the sun moving. Did you know that? Yup. You close your eyes and it’s in a different place, it’s further up, it’s more awake.

“Make a lasting impression.” by Sasha on the Queen Streetcar going West


Friday May 30, 2014
5:42pm
5 minutes
L’OREAL ad in Flare Magazine
December 2011


“Come on Selma! Don’t be a baby! There’s nothing to be scared of… What do you think is gonna happen? Come on SELLLLLLMA!!!!!”
Push pause
Push stop
Push the slow-down-distorted-voice
Push
And he’s all pushy pushy
And he’s all “You’ll be fine!”
And he’s all “People do scarier things every day! Selma! You’re such a scared-y cat!”
And I don’t want to jump but I do anyway
Who cares about the spring
The spring of the diving board is like the first shot of tequila
(Never a good idea)
And he’s down there
Treading water
And he’s smiling up
And I say
“Move it!”
And I say
“I don’t want to jump if you’re right there”
And he doesn’t read into it
He swims across the pool and gives me a one handed thumbs up

“No phone or internet” by Julia at Sambuca Grill


Thursday May 22, 2014 at Sambuca Grill
4:19pm
5 minutes
a woodgreen.org streetcar stop ad

stranded on a deserted island with the sounds of the water and the sounds of the sky just being open arround me. yeah i’m just breathing here asking the world to forgive me for being so damn stubborn. and i’m meditating incorrectly but yeah, you know, at least i’m trying. and i’m not really on a deserted island and there really isn’t any beautiful calming around me. i’m just locked in my house because dale decided to take my keys on account of the fact that his were “left” at game last night by an unnamed party, aka dale, aka TAKE SOME RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR ACTIONS AND JUST FUCKING SAY YOU LEFT THEM THERE BECAUSE YOU’RE A FUCK-KNOB.
and now if i leave i have to worry about my stuff getting stolen because dale convinced me to live in this stupid part of town where things get robbed and windows get smashed. locked in. and the power is out. so i’m sitting around a shit ton of candles trying to find my own inner peace and trying not to listen to dale speaking to me in this state, saying, you know you really should be writing.

“Original Spring Source” By Julia on the 504 going east


Saturday January 25, 2014
4:31pm
5 minutes
from a Mountain Valley Sparking Water bottle

There's a little well, a fresh water spring that is about 8 minutes away from their house. It's the most beautiful place on earth. It is safe there. It is calm. It makes all the bad things seem to float away or disappear or turn into good things so they're not bad anymore. The soft rippling of the water, the purest form of ecstasy that I know, the clear stream of stress rolling down the tree stumps and off of the mountain side. That's where I find myself in moments like these. When the weather aches all my bones and weighs heavy on my mind. When the morning light shines through my window reminding me of all the things I have to fix or make or do or forgive. When your heart breaks from an unkind word I've said, or if coincidentally you believed that your breath was too loud for your brain that day. I go to the water. I go to the spring. I go to Italy and wait for you there.

“Each day drawn back to show” by Sasha at her desk


Monday January 13, 2014
12:37am
5 minutes
Life’s Veil
Kieran Dockerty


You tell me that it’s your birthday and I think about how you’re a water baby
Born Aquarian
Born for the ocean
Wanting whales to sing for you in the morning
Wanting coral reefs to support you
Each day of your life has been drawn back to show you
Swimming
A school of vibrant fish winking at you
A pearl
Your eye
A tide
Your breath

“it’s not my favourite thing to do” by Julia at the IMA building at Ryerson


Tuesday December 10, 2013
6:52pm at Ryerson University
5 minutes
overheard at Capital Espresso

Margot tells me to “drink my water” because she doesn’t know what else to say. I tell her I feel “sick” and she just says, “drink your water”. It’s not enough, Margot, God. It’s like, do some research, assess my symptoms, and like, be a better person. I don’t think I’m asking for much. But she’s just too lazy to figure out the real reasons we EXIST most of the time that I can’t take her seriously. I tell her almost every day that I have a headache and Margot says “are you drinking enough–” and before she can say “water” which I know she’s going to say, I tell her “NOT TODAY MARGOT. I’M NOT ONE OF YOUR GUINEA PIGS.” She doesn’t usually know what to do when I say things like that, but that’s even better. She once told me I was causing her to have mini heart attacks with my outbursts and I said “what do you think I am, a typewriter?” I got that from an old joke that my uncle used to tell me before he died on the airplane. Margot doesn’t get it, which is the point, because you’re not supposed to, but then she tries to discipline me for being too “rambunctious”.

“Modesty. Timidity. Humility. Respect.” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Wednesday, October 30, 2013
8:04pm
5 minutes
The Art of Pantomime
Charles Aubert


Modesty. Timidity. Humility. Respect. Heart. Bravery. Willingness. Vulnerability. Awake. Bravery. Hunger. Fear. Joy. Laughter. Ferocity. Understanding. Unknown.

Whenever he sits to meditate, on his red, round cushion, he finds himself doing word association. He doesn’t admit this to his teacher. He says, “sometimes I have trouble clearing my mind…” His teacher nods. His teacher says, “The goal is not clearing the mind, it is treating the thoughts as waves on the ocean.”

It’s windy. There are whitecaps. The canoe bobs like a buoy. He’s seasick. He sees a killer whale.

“there are many who are experts” by Sasha at Cafe Pamenar


Friday October 18, 2013 at Cafe Pamenar
4:51pm
5 minutes
The PACT Conference 2007 Keynote Speech
Brian Quirt


There are many who are experts in Zoology and Scientology
In Rigor-ology and Astrology
There are those who speak the language of equations and permutations
Of fractions and subtractions
There are some who laugh at hilarities
Who sigh at profanities
Who “ooh” and “ahh” at the foibles of humanities
There are few who glare at rebellions
Who frown at the hellions
Who curse the loud-talkers by the millions
There are few though
There are few who speak the secret language that we do
Who know the charms of our voodoo
Who smoke the dreams of the ones that you knew
There are few though
Who sing the songs that we sing
Who ding the bells that we ding
Who clang the clocks that we ring
Who run at the ocean and fling their bodies in
There are few
Who make mixtures of herbs and spices
Who live life by the toss of the dices

“It’s time” by Sasha at her desk


Wednesday, August 28, 2013
8:44pm
5 minutes
The membership renewal card from National Geographic

When you turned out the light, I lay there, eyes open, trying to find the hole in the ceiling. I knew that that this time, usually, I could see a star through there. Spring had gone and sprung, and it was the first warm night, the first night when I wanted to sleep on top of the down duvet. You were under it, as always, sweaty, but happy as a clam in his shell. I looked and looked, until my eyes stung from searching. No star. I got up, the droop of my naked breast catching the eye of the streetlamp peeking through the blinds. You stirred, and I stopped in my tracks. You made a small moan, and I turned to see the soft curve of your nose, the tip of which is one of my favourite things to kiss. I tip-toe into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water from the glass jug in the fridge. I hear our neighbours laughing. She shrieks and he tickles, or at least that’s what I imagine. I creep back into the bedroom and step over you, careful not to squish a knee or an elbow. I settle into my pillow, that sacred spot between you armpit and your shoulder.

“I detested him for other reasons” by Julia at her desk


Friday February 8, 2013
1:28am
5 minutes
Possible Side Effects
Augusten Burroughs


If you think about what things keep you from living, you might come up with a short list. It might be wonderfully accurate and appropriate for everyone, but chances are, it’s only a good one for you. It might have some things about “not drinking enough water” on it, or perhaps, “exercising too seldom”. It might say “horrible boss, horrible job, unhappy”. It’s not up to you to judge your own list. Everyone knows you’re already unhappy. That’s why you’re making the list in the first place. On mine, for example, there is nothing about my job. I didn’t say I love my job. I just don’t want to write it down in words because then it’s more official: not doing what I want to do. However, instead of saying “I hate my job”, I say “lacking ability to decide when it’s worth it to stop trying here.” This is terribly ambiguous. It allows it to apply to more than one thing without hating and worrying more than one has to. More than I have to. On your list, it might say “fear of going outside.” Mine says “Fear of going to sleep.” That keeps me from truly living. Truly. Living. Like the two words don’t even go together the way they should. I should also mention that dry hands may or may not be on my list. Some lists are longer than others. I tend to save the long lists for things I need to accomplish that day. This way, I can include “waking up”, “eat lunch”, “hug someone” and it doesn’t seem that hard.

“The road” by Julia at R Squared


Monday, January 21, 2013 at R Squared
11:03am
5 minutes
The road (excerpt from a writing exercise)

She was giving me dead eyes, but on purpose. I said, Sorry Lina, I didn’t mean to–I shouldn’t have said you were narrow minded. You’re not, okay, you have–you’re a lot of things other than that. Lina had turned her face to stone just by looking at me. I was worried I was next. She picked up her body, like one solid brick, and slowly walked to the bathroom. She was direct–methodical in her quest for water. Splashing the cool stream onto her face, making her cheeks glisten, making it hard for me to decipher if it was from the faucet or from her tear ducts. Lina, I called at her again, Can you just forgive me this time, please?
She’s stubborn. Hates to be nagged. Hates other people to decide how she feels. I’ve been riding her for years–trying to influence my little sister into feeling what I feel. I know that’s wrong. I know it because her face looks like it might crumble into a million tiny pebbles if I push at her too hard. She’d do that as a lesson to me. Can’t get anywhere when she’s scattered across the living room.