“Any sense if Sunday can work?” by Julia at her desk

Friday September 6, 2019
8:24pm
5 minutes
From a text message

I don’t remember the day now because it was 4 years ago. 4 years ago you gave me the idea: we could move to a new city and start new lives. That was it. That was as far as it got. And I thought you were nuts. Out of your tree. Lost your mind. You were tired of living in a place that required a block heater but I was never good in the rain, so why did I let you explain what you were hoping to do? Too early to head back home because you weren’t ready to settle down. Too cold to stay where you were. Too small.

Maybe you told me on a Skype call while I was filming that TV show. Was it Providence? Was it the day I missed you so much I decided I would go where you go and stop putting up walls around all my soft, gooey, fleshy parts?

Tonight we celebrated some of our recent successes, one of them being living here for 4 whole years with new lives. You said you loved us as adults, and it hit me in that moment that when we met we were kids. Children. What could we possibly have known? This city has been good to us because we chose to fully be here. We saw ourselves rising and we did. We really did.

Finally, we go all out at the restaurant we’ve been meaning to make reservations at. Finally we manage it and finally we don’t limit ourselves by only ordering the cheapest items. We try things. We love things. We clink forks with every bite, every embrace of where we are. And then at the end…the beautiful man beside us pays for our entire meal. We don’t find out until he leaves. And we can’t believe it. How much this city has given.

“sometimes come last” by Julia on L’s couch

Thursday September 5, 2019
9:30pm
5 minutes
Sometimes I Like to Curl Up in a Ball
Vicki Churchill

I have done a lot today. I won’t list it here cause All I Am Are Lists Lately.
I want to talk about something important. Sometimes I don’t want to talk about myself but I start the sentence with I because I know I will be able to follow it. We. I also believe in what is powered by us, what we’ve built, who we are and choose to be. I could write a list about that too but I’ll spare you the details. Nobody wants details unless they’re in them. Like dreams. Like clouds for resting your chin on. You is something to be seen in. If I say You, you get to believe it really is even if the You I am talking about keeps changing. I know about You. I know about I. I know about We. I don’t know about It as much or The, but I know about This. And These. These five minutes, This heart lifting symphony, Those 3-dollar earrings I got in Chinatown that two people took photos of so they could try and make a pair themselves…

“me as an individual” by Julia on the GO bus

Friday May 17, 2019
10:46am
5 minutes
Overheard on the GO

see i’m going in, right
diving deep, losing sleep,
dreaming more, right
when i go in, i go all the
way in, trust my heart can
swim even if my legs never
learned how
see i’m on the hunt now,
gentle lion seeking shade now, tired tail and pink pawed, finding it within now
i want more pathways, more
sideways, more what ifs, more expansion, and i do this: little tongue kiss, inside out fist, i’m going all the way
if i can land myself at the bottom of the well then
i might come up with new eyes and
see you deeply too
cause i am myself an not individual, i am everything and you

If you believe it has been lost, stolen or compromised.” By Julia on her couch

Wednesday December 13, 2017
6:11pm
5 minutes
BC Revenue Services

There’s that ring in the ears…

When a thief fears being stolen from, or a liar paranoid of being lied to.

We all find our cells interlocked with the cells of the mirror. The truth scares us because we have not told it. The worry of someone who is capable of taking something that doesn’t belong to them is because we know we have already waited for the perfect umbrella to be left behind. The perfect chance to live, risk, live.

There is no scolding.

No judgement.

No scorn.

No blame.

“we realize we can’t eat money” by Sasha at her desk


Saturday March 21, 2015
6:24pm
5 minutes
from an Indian Proverb

We realize we can’t eat money so we eat
banana pudding instead
The texture reminds us of babyhood of being
held close to the heartbeat of
the source
We slop it up like it’s delicious
fooling ourselves
Joke’s on us
Joke’s on the ice cream sundae
No banana split for old time’s sake
We realize we can’t keep eating banana pudding because
it’s making us sick
We’re turning soft
Ripened on the counter
Speckling brown and black

“FREQUENCY” by Sasha on her bed


Tuesday November 19, 2013
11:05pm
5 minutes
from the Cold-FX bottle

When we listened to the sound of the first snow flakes landing on our cheeks
When we heard their corners melting
We knew we were in for a good season
A good time at this
When we walking around the graveyard and counted letter
M
D
A
S
We slow danced under the maple tree
By the pond
Where you swore you saw a fish jump
Making a kissy face
But not making fun of us
Enjoying our laughter
Our footsteps
When we bought our house on the dead end street
You painted the walls late into the night
I slept
A pizza-induced coma
You joined me
Fresh from the shower
And we made promises that involved mountains and coffee

“What do we want?” By Julia at Belly Acres


Monday May 6, 2013 at Belly Acres
5:27pm
5 minutes
A sign on the blackboard

What do we want? Hard to say, I don’t know if I’d classify us as a ‘we’ anymore. See…when someone breaks someone’s heart, it’s really no longer ‘we’ territory. I’m fine without you, by the way. But that’s what it is: Me without you. There is no ‘we’. We–what we used to be– was weekends away at the cottage house in Grand Bend, and a bottle of red with a million re-runs of Scrubs. That’s what we used to be. Laura, you’re calling me too much. It’s hard, okay? We can’t–uh–there, I said it–you and I, can’t, keep doing this if the both of us want to move on, I mean, if you and I separately think it’s a good idea for personal growth or whatever. Maybe the friend thing you’re pushing could be real…12-18 months from now, yeah, I think I’d consider it. But–now is like–it’s like you’re allowed to still talk to me but you’re also allowed to still talk to him…and like, the best of both world’s thing, isn’t really my thing.