All My Friends Zine - Issue Four, Friends Forever

all my friends

issue friends

four forever

w i t h coco & clair clair

i.

harper

haynes

stefanie

röhnisch

ii.

editor-in-chief abby

waisler

editors lina

christopherson

-

jeong,

ava

hausner,

katie

pruden

social media manager ava

hausner

head of music katie

pruden

head of film lina

front

christopherson

&

back

-

cover

zachary

jeong

photography francois

contributors abigail phillips 109 allison stein 109 annie vedder 94 apple haze 40 ashley setiawan 33-34 asli özcelik 95-108 august knibutat 61-64 cailynn johnson 9-16 cameron gonzales 92 carianne older 41-46 emiliano cáceres manzano 21-24 emily yong beck 4-8 emma gauvin 65-66 eran karmon 109-110 gwyneth chew 25-32 harper haynes i. helena pantsis 110 helena stiasny 125-126 isabella smith 54-58

jessica sandoval 114-116 joi wood 91 julie benatar 17-20 kari trail 111 katherine fu 35,111 keisha wee 111 lucy blumenfield 127-128 lina christopherson-jeong 47-52 martina taylor 112 matilda eker 59-60 megan howard 67-86 minna lee 113 nikki pezeshkian 94 rachel frichette 93 sarah barker postcard sophia sonnier 87-89 stefanie röhnisch ii. wittney 113 zachary francois front & back cover, 117-124

ANONYMOUS

are we gonna be friends forever?: forever seems so subjective sometimes... an indefinite existence feels futile in the pit of my belly because it seems too optimistic. but maybe reaching for stars you can’t touch makes you better in the act... maybe friendship is just a shooting star grazing the tip of my finger <3

are we gonna be friends forever?: I’d like to hope we are. However my realistic brain likes to ruin things for me by demonstrating how many people I am actually friends with and who I’ve drifted away from, whom I am no longer friends with (I hope I used whom right). So I don’t think we will be friends forever, I hope I dream that we are because losing this friendship, one that has impacted me greatly will be a great loss - nobody ever talks about that kind of loss however painful it is. If we’re not friends I hope that your happy and I’m happy if your happy because at the end of the day that’s what friendships are. But I also hope for my sake that it doesn’t eat me alive like it does whenever I see people I used to be friends. The guilt, the pain, the grief. I hope that I don’t feel that way with you because I feel it everytime I realise I don’t have those people in my life anymore. I don’t want to suddenly realise that I don’t have you in my life and wonder what I didn’t do - did I reach out to you enough? Was our friendship as important for me as it was for you? What did I do? Are you happy? Questions I always ask myself whenever I think or see them. But for you I really do hope that we are friends forever

are we gonna be friends forever?: i thought we were. the last time i really felt like that was that warm day in october, the light was so beautiful at that time of day and even though i couldn’t look you in the eyes, i felt it was true. in a way i think a piece of us will always be there, on that corner, in every warm afternoon, in the white of every eye. are we gonna be friends forever?: I don’t know if we’ll be friends forever. I have complicated relationships with friends. Will you betray me? You should stick by my side. If you do, I’ll stick by yours. And maybe we can listen to the velvet underground and stare at the sky together.

are we gonna be friends forever?

Dear ___, I met you last summer. I had always seen you around school, but I hadn’t truly met you. We got closer and closer. You moved away. And we drifted farther and farther apart. You only talked to me once every month. You hurt me deeply. When you came back, you didn’t see me. You liked me, and I liked you. Why couldn’t you have just spent time with me?

So no. I suppose we won’t be friends forever unless you do something. ~M

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ANONYMOUS

are we gonna be friends forever?: One can hope, but we will always be friends at heart and in history, those moments we’ve had together won’t just go away because we have drifted apart. We will be friends in memory, for as long as our memories hold up. are we gonna be friends forever?: i would like to think so but chances are we’re going to part ways some time in life. life has different stages, we might outgrow each other and we will change as people. i feel like it’s already happening and while i’m aware of it i can’t do anything to stop it.

are we gonna be friends forever?: No are we gonna be friends forever?: Hopefully we’ll be more than that if that’s OK with you.

I mean, we could just stay friends but the way your lips call me to kiss them and your hand begs me to hold it might contradict that notion. Maybe I’m imagining things, that fortunate result of infatuation. are we gonna be friends forever?: depends. don’t know if I’ll be able to commit for that long. are we gonna be friends forever?: Probably are we gonna be friends forever?: Never would I say that I don’t want to grow old together, but you have higher expectations for your life than I do. You want to move across the country with your boyfriend and I. In a town that’s not known because you enjoy the quietness. Settle down, get married, and have kids with a man you don’t even know is gonna be there for you in the next 6 months. I’ll love you forever, but soon I’d have to move on to continue my own life. I don’t want to be the side character in my own movie. You believe that as soon as we get out of high school, we’ll be able to move out instantly into a house that neither of us could pay for. You believe that our kids might outside playing hopscotch together while we laugh and smile, but I don’t even want kids. I want to be independent and that’s what sets us apart.

are we gonna be friends forever?: I think about this question a lot with you. I’ve weighed the pros and cons of our relationship but i dread the thought of our dissipating relationship and the awkwardness it ensues in our friend group. But people change and we stop liking things we once enjoyed, friendship is not exclusive to this. Sometimes friendships are just phases.

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y o n g

b e c k

emily yong beck

emily yong beck

y o n g 4

e m i l y

e m i l y

b e c k

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Landfill of Love

by cailynn johnson

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Big hugs Big kisses Big smiles Big dances Spin around us Spin in circles Spins from drinking Spinning from thinking Think about you Thinking about me Think of what could be Think about my dreams Dream about the sea Dream of the trees Dreams can’t be seen Dream up a world for you and me Safe in your arms Saftey is relief Saftey is a need Saved and let free You saved me

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*** I have my heart on the phone She says my love’s for real I feel the need for armor My heart is on the line With her i’m never alone She accepts how I feel My companion forever My heart is only mine She will make you atone For all of your evil Get you back 10x harder She protects me for all of time ***

FIN.

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(nosubject)

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Unadulterated, or: A Memoir Of Events That Have Not Finished Happening, or: An Adaptation Of Memories.

Emiliano Cáceres Manzano CHARACTERS: 1 - A Narrator (Doubles as Michelangelo, his past self, his future self) 2 - His friend (Doubles as David and a Bro) 3 - Someone else NOTE: This play is not meant to be performed; This play is meant to be in my head and (by extension) yours.

This play contains lines that are written -like this-, meaning they should be projected or narrated.

This play does not have a set, but if it did, it would look like a 150-year-old dorm room crossed with a club. Also, chandeliers.

This play should revel in its silences.

This play has no soliloquies, only monologues, (except, that is, the second to last scene).

--[1 and 2 burst into the space] 1: You’re SO ATTRACTIVE 2: No, but I’m not 1: Look at me. You are.

2: I don’t know. I don’t–– 1: You have the best fashion sense of ANYONE I KNOW. And look at your HAIR. It’s GORGEOUS and FLOOFY. 2: My lips are big.

1: Look at your JAWLINE. And that’s not to say anything of your personality.

2: Nobody knows me.

1: You’re mysterious.

2: I can’t make small talk 1: You’re hilarious.

2: Really?

1: And quirky. And cool. You watch black mirror.

2: Everyone does.

1: 2: 1: Look at me. Look at your hair. Look at your closet. Look at yourself. YOU’RE SO HOT. [1 and 2 look at each other. they lay on the floor] 1: What are you doing.

2: Cut the Rope.

1: 2: 1: Do you ever feel like...

2: 1: Like... it feels like...

2: 1: 2: Yeah.

1: And you know you shouldn’t.

2: Yeah.

1: Yeah.

2: All the time.

1: Really?

2: 1: What if...

2: What?

1: Nothing.

2: [nodding] Nothing.

1: Anyway. Good night.

2: Good night.

1: Should I turn the lights off on my way out?

2: Yeah. Sure. I’ll just watch Tik Toks before going to bed.

1: Alright. Good night. Love you.

2: Love you too. **

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-A conversation between Michelangelo and David[They are played by 1 and 2 respectively] m: Stand still. Don’t move. d: ... m: Don’t. Move. d: m: You moved. d: I’m sorry.

smoothed over marble pebbles that still stung my esophagus, and they settled in the pit of my stomach, like garbage disposal gargoyles perched inside my intestines, filtering through everything that I consumed and letting it pile up.

But just before I could be consumed by my own unprocessed life, I became myself again. Standing at the edge of the cool water, I realized that I’d always thought that the moss and the rocks were in harmony, but the moss was at war with m: It’s fine. Just. Tilt. Yeah. This way. And your the rocks, eating away and destroying with the foot, your foot goes out. And arch your back. veneer of smoothness. And so, to free the rocks Yeah. And your arm goes here. A triangle, form a from their evergreen war, I picked some up and triangle with your elbow, an equilateral one. A skipped them. I listened to them skip and skip, proportional one. Right. Perfect. disappear under the waves, until I looked down, d: and the shore was bare but for sand. [Pause] I m: Don’t move. never actually did any of that. I made that up; d: I can’t hold this, this is impossible. it’s a metaphor. I’ve never gone back except that m: That’s why I need you to hold it. Arm up. cool spring day. d: [seeing the statue] That doesn’t look anything like me. ** m: That’s still how it’s supposed to look.

[1 and Bro run The Mile. Bro passes 1. He does d: I really want to go eat. not acknowledge him] m: We’re almost done. d: You said that an hour ago. ** m: We’re more almost done now than we were an [We hear Nicki Minaj’s verse in “Monster” fade hour ago. It’d go faster if you weren’t in. 1 and 2 get ready for a dance, rapping changing your position so much. animatedly, joyfully, occasionally with a toothd: brush in mouth or deodorant in armpit.] m: 1 & 2: “Pull up in the monster d: Automobile gangster m: Stop moving.

With a bad bitch that came from Sri Lanka Yeah I’m in that Tonka, color of Willy Wonka ** You could be the King but watch the Queen conquer OK first things first I’ll eat your brains -Wherein the narrator is interviewed about some- Then I’ma start rocking gold teeth and fangs thing that never happenedCause that’s what a motherfucking monster do 1: There is this pond where I like to write, one Hairdresser from Milan, that’s the monster do.” where, at the shore, moss smooths over the rocks. [1 & 2 laugh. 1 exits. After a while, he returns.]

I have only been to this pond once, a day that in 1: Can I borrow that one shirt? my mind 2: Sure. lasted months and that has since been enveloped [1 exits, then returns, wearing the shirt] in the sepia warmth of an old photo, a 1: Sorry, can I borrow the sweater, too?

Snapchat. This was the last day of last year. My 2: Sure. [1 puts it on] freshman year. Fresh as in new, fresh as in 1: cool water and raw marble. But anyway. Back to 2: the pond. This past summer, I went back, and all 1: What pants should i wear? of a sudden, I realized became the moss. and I 2: Do you want to borrow these? was breathing in the rocks, white,

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1: 2: [1 holds them up to himself. He looks in the mirror. Tableau.] ** [1 and 2 run The Mile. They pant and collapse on the ground together.] ** [Strobe lights. The opening of Kanye West’s “Monster” plays. The rest of this scene takes place in the dark.]

-Wherein the gun is hung on the upstage wall2: And I think about how sometimes I wake up and it feels like nothing is worth it. People say take it day by day but what if I can’t. What if I wake up in the morning and I feel like there’s this weight on top of me keeping me down in bed but the weight, the weight is warm. I want to stay in the warm because, in the warmth there doesn’t have to be cold. It’s my blanket but bigger and I sit there and don’t get out of bed. What if I don’t know what drives me anymore. I don’t know where I’m going. I feel like I should know where I’m going. I don’t know. I feel like. There’s so much. And what’s the point of it all. We’re all just gonna die so then [giggling] why do anything. And why should I keep going. [He cries.]

I’m sorry. ** [Darkness. Then, a lighter clicks. 2 smokes a blunt, illuminated by the lighter’s flame. The smoke fills the room. Then, he puts on pink, heart-shaped sunglasses. Monster plays. Rave lights.

1 enters. He lifts 2’s arms, making him dance. A two person mosh pit.]

1: [talking to someone we can’t see] Is he alright? ... oh... But it’s Tuesday... No, no, I’m not gonna say anything... No, that’s cool... It’s just– it’s a school night... Right. It was just this once, right? ** [2 sits and broods, sunglasses on.]

1: Is everything okay?

2: Yeah. Sure.

1: 2: [1 gets out his phone] 1: Hey, um, I’m replying to a snap. Get in. Smile.

[Flash. 2 is still. 1 adjusts 2’s posture until he becomes... David. 1 exits.] ** [In this scene, 2’s lines are recorded and played back shittily. 2 is still frozen, in David position.]

1: And I never knew.

2: Nothing is worth it.

1: Or I knew. But I was too busy living day to day in the squandered shadow of a friendship.

2: And the weight is warm 1: I got lost in myself and never arrived at him. I never knew him.

2: I feel like I should know where i’m going 1: I couldn’t see past my own damn nose, couldn’t see that when he needed me most— 2: [giggling] 1: [recorded] You’re so ATTRACTIVE 1: I failed him. [1 yells, and it becomes the screaming sound effect from “Monster”]

** [An image of the actual David is projected. David looks at David] d: ... ... ... ...

[This scene should take its time. 2/David/Bro ex** its, out the theatre’s entrance, and into the world.

[2 enters. He is wearing the heart sunglasses. 1 is 1 watches him go.] studying on the floor.]

2: What’s up, dude. ** 1: Not much. Just studying. Chem is taking me 1: They say he’s better now. out.

The last time we Facetimed he made himself [2 begins to giggle and stumble about. 1 watches. a spiked iced coffee and drank it in his living He stands up] room.

It was midnight.

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He Facetimed me. Not the other way around.

Sure there were other people there but he Facetimed me.

And that’s why I picked up.

Because after all this time I couldn’t believe that he would decide to be friends with me.

Now he’s gone.

Nothing but a memory.

A weight.

Warm. Smooth.

Until.

I look closer, I let it linger longer and it’s ice cold. ** 3: I haven’t seen him in a while? Didn’t he leave or something?

1: Yeah.

3: Why did he leave?

1: 3: 1: He uh. He wasn’t uh. He wasn’t having a good time.

3: Tough, man. He seemed like a nice guy. You knew him well, right?

1: 3: 1: Yeah. I did.

[The sound of stones skipping across a pond.

Blackout.]

end of play.

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ashley

setiawan

ashley

setiawan

in conversation with: written by abby waisler graphic by katherine fu

1. hi! will you introduce yourself?

My name is Rachel Brown and to be completely honest I’m not really sure what I do anymore. I still make music as “thanks for coming” and I am 1/2 of “Water From Your Eyes” (a dance project with Nate Amos). I’ve spent the last couple of weeks browsing on job boards and writing cover letters, the month before that I was marching almost every single day, and before that I was mostly just sitting in my apartment reading books and thinking about life and how I fit into it. I graduated from college last year for film and television, but I don’t think I’m any closer to getting a job within the film and television industry than I was last

summer. It’s nice to be able to say I’m a musician because otherwise I think the only thing I could say about myself is that I’m confused.

2. how did you get into music?

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I started taking guitar lessons starting when I was about 10 or so. It’s funny because I’m still not very good at guitar. I convinced my parents to sign me up for them after a visit to a family friend’s house where their cousin or cousin-in-law or whatever had brought their guitar and began playing for everyone in the living room.

If someone did that now, it would probably bother me, but at that point I was completely captivated.

I’ve always loved music.

My parents played the radio a

thanks for coming band a lot when I was growing up.

My dad used to book weekly concerts at our local park during the summers. I also went to Catholic school and spent a lot of time going to church and singing hymns during mass. I feel like there was always just music around me, not that I grew up surrounded by musicians, but rather just the music itself. I used to fall asleep at night listening to CDs on the CD player my parents had gotten me for Christmas. Every night, I would listen to either “Yourself Or Someone Like You” by Matchbox 20, “Fu Shu Mang” by Smashmouth, “Let Go”

by Avril Lavigne, or “American Idiot” by Green Day until I was asleep, and if I didn’t fall asleep by the end I would just start the CD over.

3. where did the name “thanks for coming” come from?

It was a joke. “Thanks for coming, I’m ‘thanks for coming’ and this next song is…” I used to be funny. I was voted “Class Clown” during my senior year for the yearbook. When I was a junior in high school, I had started doing standup with my friend Steve Maloy (who is also a former roommate of mine here in Brooklyn). I would go to open-mics every so often and during the summer

before my senior year I went almost every week. I stopped doing it for a variety of reasons, but I’m actually thinking about getting into it again when the world opens back up. I’m still debating it. Anyway, I just remember thinking about how musicians always say “Thanks for coming, we’re [insert band name]” and thought “Gee, wouldn’t it be funny to name a band ‘thanks for coming’?” When I went to Bandcamp, the URL was still available, so I took it and I’ve never looked back.

4. this issue’s theme is based off your song “Friends Forever”! can you go into the message/significance of the song?

Wow! Thank you!

Haha, this is so stupid to me in retrospect—or maybe not stupid but perhaps juvenile?

Which makes sense because I was only 20 years old when I wrote it, not that I’m much older now, but I certainly feel like a different person than I did back then.

Specifically, this song is about not knowing where you stand with someone. In my case, it was a friend of mine in college, which if I’m being honest, I don’t think we were ever really friends to begin

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with. Although, if I’m being even more honest, I think we were friends, we shared some moments that only friends could share, but at this point I think I like to refer to them as a former friend of former friends to alleviate any emotion I still have attached to the relationship. I had a crush—or I guess a better description is that I was infatuated with this person— but I knew that they didn’t feel the same way. Although for years I kept thinking that maybe at some point they would change their mind.

It was just that our friendship didn’t feel like any other friendships that I had, it always felt tense and nerve-racking for me, and I swore that they knew me in ways that didn’t make sense given how much time we had actually spent together. I guess it was almost like I had never felt so seen and also so ignored by the same person.

I just wanted to know why I felt that way, I wanted to know what it was about us and our dynamic that made me feel so insane. I wanted them to be the one to explain it all.

I was just so convinced that there was something more to the two of us being around each other than what had been said, and knowing that they didn’t feel the same way made me feeling absolutely crazy. I think mostly, I just wanted to not be insane and for them to

tell me that I wasn’t and that this feeling that I had about us wasn’t delusional. I still don’t know. I mean I was definitely a little delusional, but to what extent? I’m not sure, but I don’t care anymore. I know where I stand now. I couldn’t care less where they do.

This song is kind of prophetic because I am not friends at all with the person that I was thinking about when I wrote it lol. It’s funny to me because I don’t think there were any reasons why I was so deeply invested in this person that were actually related to them as a person. I think that it had a lot to do with the fact that I was in a long-distance relationship with someone else, and it was very serious, and I hadn’t reckoned with the fact that I was not ready to be in that serious of a relationship. It seems like this crush was a way for me to subconsciously try to find a way out of the situation I was in. I don’t feel good about having had those feelings. That’s why this song is so frustrating to me. I wish I would have just sat back and thought about the person who was actually in my life and what I wanted from them and what I was capable of giving back to them. Although, I am still friends with my ex. I think we’ll probably be friends forever.

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On a more general note, I’ve had a complicated relationship to friendship in general. I’ve often felt like I haven’t been a good enough friend and that I’ve been too distant. I’ve lost a few close friends in the past because of my inability to communicate openly. Resentment would build up and communication would break down, and rather than talk about it like how I assume other people do, I would just complain about it to other people or on one occasion, send an extremely bitter end-of-friendship text. To be fair, the friendship had been over for years, I just finally put it into words. It was a rash and regrettable decision, I’m hoping at some point to be able to apologize for being young and melodramatic.

I think I’ve had an unrealistic expectation of friendship in the past, I thought that drifting apart meant the friendship was over and that I had done something wrong for it to come to that, but I realized at some point in the past few years that that’s actually just what growing up is. It used to make me extremely sad and angry with myself that I was losing touch with people I had been close to and had loved. I know now that it’s almost impossible to maintain friendships in the same way that you do when you’re young, when you see everyone every single day during

the week, and no one has anything else to do other than homework. It’s a hard realization to come to, to understand that most friendships are just catching up with people and hearing about their lives, rather than living through it with them.

5. how do the relationships in your life affect your lyrics/ storytelling?

Immensely. It’s all I can ever write about and I guess even think about. I think that makes sense though, life is just a series of relationships to other people, places, activities, systems, etc. I only exist in the way that I do because of everyone and everything around me.

I’ve probably spent the most time writing about the people in my life, and out of the people in my life, I’ve probably spent the most time writing about romantic relationships, or perceived romantic relationships, in which case the most that actually happened was that I wrote a song about it. I’ve written songs about my family, about my friends, about strangers, about myself. Even when I’m talking about the end of the world, I feel like I’m always referring back to the people in it that I care about.

I write songs to tell people how I feel, and more often

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than not, it tends to be how I feel about them. Things that I can’t bring up in conversation. When I’m with people, I’m always together. There are very few people who have seen me vulnerable and in pieces, and even when I am falling apart, it’s not like I can speak. When I do talk to people, it’s hard to convey how I really feel. I can talk about things, events, nonsense, but I can’t explain what’s happening inside of me. I have a very hard time just figuring it out for myself.

Stop spending your money and stop overwatering your plants!

To answer your question, I don’t think there are any ways that the relationships in my life don’t affect my lyrics/ storytelling. My relationships are my life.

6. are there any projects for you coming up in the future?

I’m trying to work on a new full-band album, but I guess I would have to do a little more wrangling of the other members. Instead, I just keep writing new songs and now I don’t even know how to play the other ones. That’s the problem with this project, I don’t know how to play any of the songs. To be real, at this point, I’m just looking for a job.

7. to close, give a piece of advice to your past and future self!

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october baby apple haze october baby:

later a ratty red piece of fabric clutched in my arms eyes shut while you invade my mind as i rest waking up at whatever ungodly hour to see the pitch black world around me.

who what where how why are you? far from perfection as am i. i don’t know how you and i click the way we do, but i would rather wonder a ladder so big it shot me up to the and let the mystery live on. moon and into a sky broken like a mila girl of few words lion little pieces. the structure of a star you re enter as my eyes widen a cute fucking thing to say only to resist me from shutting them are all just sounds and for the hours to come. syllables rolling off the tongue gentle words flood my mind vibrating through the air entering our own odd universe through my ears just twenty minutes from my locked into my driveway consciousness where you caught me not to escape any time soon and pulled me from the steady especially while you exist ground below. in such close proximity to what is it about you me. that makes me feel so fearless and new? easy to talk to because i am all ears all the time fill me with stories never seems to be enough you tell them so well. never wanting to go home. but i must protect myself a tight squeeze from the unavoidable, and a sore face uncontrollable, from smiling so big predetermined creates a grin end. and extends out an arm that pulls me in— it will come with a wave of bittera clear sequence in my mind sweet emotion i hope to not forget. for me, at least. i can’t remember feeling so being left behind good something i thought i was too with someone like you. smart to let myself experience

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but here you are to prove me wrong. i will be the one hoping not to be forgotten as i wonder if we can ever truly forget someone. i hope we can’t. maybe i posses some sort of upper hand with my mumbles and my giggles my few words. yet, i sit here hoping you know everything was mutual reciprocated just as unexpected as you thought. i’ve never written so many words as i have now. learning what it’s like to feel what they all write about. you didn’t give yourself enough credit for what you have taught me. writing this i weigh the values i hold. is it worth it to write this with the possibility of it being tainted in months to come? i have accepted my fate my blind optimism to blame. and i realize it’s impossible for me to live without overthinking. the idea of simple seems so freeing in my mind. yet i now know that this ends with a simple, bittersweet goodbye.

california

carianne

dreaming

older

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thank you to Twee and Missy for modeling!

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그림을 굳이 종이에만? 정력공원씨와의 한판수다 “나는 이 그림과 충분히 사랑에 빠졌는가?” 에디터 정리나 백인이 아닌 미국인으로 미국에서 자라면서 경험하는 인종 차별 그 자체도 힘든일이지만 자기자 신의 문화에서 자부심을 찾아내는것이 진정한 싸움이라고 생각합니다. 저는 그것을 확실히 증언 할수 있습니다. 17세의 한국계 미국인으로서 내면화 된 인종 차별과 자기 비하로 웅장하게 쌓은 벽은 수년간 끊임없는 큰 망치질로 인해 벽을 허물수 있었습니다. 고맙게도, 그 파괴를 시작한 촉매는 한국 문화의 창의성에 노출 됐을때 제 자신을 취약하게 만들었습니다. 그것으로 인해 음 악, 문학 (한국어와 영어를 제 1 언어로 만들게 해주셔서 감사합니다, 엄마!), 예술, 영화 등이 저 에게 존재할수 있었습니다. 오늘은 제가 깊은 영감과 공감을 얻은 한국 타투이스트 정력공원을 소개하려 합니다. 정력공원 의 독창적인 아이디어와 문신 디자인의 심오한 의미에 대한 대화를 독자분들과 나눌 수있어서 매우 기쁩니다. 리나: 안녕하세요! 자기소개를 부탁드립니다. 정력공원: 안녕하세요 정력공원입니다. 현재 서울에서 타투이스트로 활동을 하는 동시에 현대 미술을 공부하고 있습니다. 그동안은 “NO PLACE TO GO” 라는 주제로, 여전히 한국 사회와 가 정에서 인정받기 힘든 개인의 다양성에 대한 이야기를 현대미술로 표현해 왔습니다. 길가에 버 려진 갈 곳 없는 물건들을 수집해 개인적 사유가 담긴 오브제들과 합쳐 집을 만드는 작업을 하다 가, 지금은 사람의 몸에 그림을 새겨주며 그들에게 정신적 휴식처를 만들어주고 있습니다. 리나: 정력공원은 무슨 뜻 인가요? 어디에서 영감을 받은 이름이죠? 정력공원: 타투를 하러 오는 손님들이 꼭 물어보는 질문이네요! 정력공원은 제 한국 이름을 직역 해 만든 닉네임 입니다. 영감은 새벽에 침대에 누워 떠올렸습니다. 리나: 최근에 하신 많은 작품중에 가장 뿌듯한 top 3는 무엇이었나요? 정력공원: 질문을 보고 제가 했던 많은 작업들을 떠올렸습니다. 그 중 이 3개의 작품이 유난히 강하게 인상이 남습니다. 첫번째 사진 속 작업은, 제 작업의 정신적 세계가 가장 잘 담긴 작품입 니다. 찐한 무지개와 흩날리는 꽃들, 그리고 “LOVE IS ALL” 이라는 시그니처 문구입니다. 사랑 에 빠졌을 때 터져나오는 케미컬한 감정과 센세이션한 기분을 나타낸 제 시그니처 드로잉입니 다. 여기서 말하는 사랑은 단순히 사람과 사람의 관계가 아닌 사람, 자연, 예술, 반려동물 등과 같 은 개인적 사유가 담긴 사랑이 될 수 있는 모든 것들을 말합니다. 두번째 사진 속 작업은 , 영화 시나리오를 쓰는 손님께서 주신 “바다는 비에 젖지 않는다” 라는 문장을 바탕으로 만든 작품입니다. 세번째 사진 속 작업은 한글을 서정적인 그림을 그리듯 써내려간 작품입니다. 평소 글씨를 그림 처럼 그리는 것을 좋아하는 제 작업방식이 잘 담긴 레터링이고, 담아낸 의미가 뜻깊어 소중하게 생각하고 있습니다.

리나: 요즘 많은 분들이 정력공원의 작품을 사랑해주시는데, 이 일은 어떻게 관심이 생기고 시작 하게되셨나요? 정력공원: 이 일에 관심을 가지게 된 계기는 단순합니다. 몇년동안 어둡고 우울한 주제로만 작 품을 만들다보니 더이상 행복하고 따뜻한 기분을 어떻게 그리는지 떠오르지가 않았습니다. 예술 이 내게 어떤 의미가 되는지 생각을 하다가, 내가 예술로 세상에 던질 수 있는 가장 근본적인 메 세지가 무엇일까에 대해 생각했습니다. 제게는 그것이 사랑과 positive vibes였습니다. Positive vibes를 가진 나의 그림 바이러스들이 이세상 모든 곳곳에 퍼져 잠에 들기 전 울고 있는 사람들 을 달래줄 수 있었으면 좋겠다는 생각을 했습니다. 제 그림이 사람들에게 휴식을 주는 정신적인 심볼이 되었으면 좋겠다는 생각을 했습니다. 사람의 몸에 새겨지는 그림이라면 가능할 것 같았 습니다. 그래서 타투를 시작하게 되었습니다. 리나: 아티스트로서의 꿈, 혹은 목표는 무엇입니까? 올해 까지 이루고 싶거나 하고 싶은 계획이 있으십니까? 정력공원: 한국 사회에서 타투는 여전히 금기시 되고 부정적인 이미지가 강한 하류문화입니다. 나는 한국의 타투 문화가 조금 더 긍정적인 이미지를 가질 수 있도록 positive한 멋진 그림들을 그려낼 것입니다. 그리고 코로나19가 끝나면 세계 곳곳으로 달려가 사람들에게 정신적 휴식처 를 몸에 새겨주며 즐거움을 주고 싶습니다. 그리고 올해가 끝나기 전, 작은 전시를 열어 그동안 공개하지 못했던 그림들을 보여주고 싶습니다. 리나: 정력공원의 작품들을 보면 기존의 문신 “규칙”을 따르지않는 차별됨이 아주 신선하고 개 인취향을 고려함이 눈길을 끕니다. 이런 스타일은 어떻게 디밸로읍 하셨나요? 정력공원: 타투이스트는 자신의 멋진 그림을 손님에게 새겨주기도 하지만, 손님의 이야기를 듣 고 작품을 제작해 몸에 새겨주는 아티스트라고 생각합니다. 사람들은 자신의 이야기를 그림으로 표현하는 것을 조금 어려워합니다. 저는 사람들의 이야기를 듣고 제 세계관에 있는 조형 규칙들 을 이용해 그림을 만들어 주는 것을 좋아합니다. 그래서 저는 제 그림으로 그들의 이야기를 통역 해주고 있습니다. 리나: 요즘 영감은 어떻게 얻으시나요? 존경하는 분들을 알고싶습니다. 정력공원: 여전히 영감은 사랑이라는 감정과 산책을 통해 얻습니다. 제가 사랑하는 사람과 자연 은 나의 뮤즈입니다. 그리고 독립 영화를 보며 생각에 잠기거나 현대미술 작품들을 감상합니다. 존경하는 인물은 자주 바뀝니다. 저번주에 한 손님이 스콘을 구워오셨습니다. 제빵을 시작하신 지 얼마 되지 않았는데 정말 맛있었습니다. 요즘은 그날 먹었던 스콘을 존경합니다. 리나: 마지막으로 저희 독자분들을 위한 팁을 주신다면 …? (문신을 하기전 꼭 명심해야할 것 들) 정력공원: 문신을 하기 전 떠올려야하는 가장 중요한 것 한가지가 있습니다: “ 나는 이 그림과 충분히 사랑에 빠졌는가?”

정력공원씨의 작품을 더 보시고싶다면 인스타그램에 @sinewpark_tt 로 가보세요!

Skin is the New Etch A Sketch: Stamina Park “Am I in love with the vision enough?”

By Lina Christopherson-Jeong The blatant ignorance and discrimination you face growing up as a non-white American is difficult for BIPOC in general, but to find genuine pride in your roots, I think, is the biggest battle. Surely, I can testify to that; as a 17 year old Korean American, my grand wall of internalized racism and self deprecation took years of constant sledgehammering and wrecking ball swings to finally topple over. Thankfully, the catalyst that kickstarted the destruction was allowing myself to be vulnerable when exposed to the creativity of my culture; whether it was through music, literature (thank you Mom for making Korean and English both my first languages), art, or cinema.

That being said, one Korean artist I found myself deeply resonating with and getting inspired by was Stamina Park, who I am extremely electrified and grateful for to be able to share our conversation about her out-of-the-box ideas and profound meanings behind her never-before seen tattoo designs.

Lina: Hey, would you mind starting us off with an introduction of yourself?

Stamina Park: Hello, I’m Stamina Park and I’m currently based in Seoul, South Korea as a tattooist. Until recently, I have created contemporary art under the theme “NO PLACE TO GO” to express the concept of diversity amongst individualism, which has proven to be difficult to recognize in Korean society. To portray this, I’d collect items trashed on the roadside and build houses. Now I ink people while trying to provide a mentally healing space for them.

L: I’m desperate to know, what does Stamina Park mean? What inspired you in creating this pseudonym?

SP: It’s a popular question amongst my clients! It stems from my actual Korean name; I thought of it while lying in bed at dawn.

L: From your recent work, which would you select as your top threes?

SP: Let me think… I’d say the first best represents the spiritual world; with vibrant rainbows and flowers breezing through, it includes my signature phrase, “LOVE IS ALL”. It’s an expression of the sensational burst of chemical emotion that you experience when you fall in love. And when I say love, I don’t necessarily think it’s limited to human relationships; it applies to any sort of intimacy whether it be within nature, art, pets, etc.

The second is a design that was inspired by the phrase “THE OCEAN DOES NOT WET FROM RAIN” which was given to me by a client of mine who writes movie scenarios.

The last one is in Hangul (Korean alphabet) and it’s a lyrical vision. It’s a lettering piece that emphasizes my style of work that portrays writings as drawings, so it’s valuable to me.

L: Rightfully so, you’ve been receiving a lot of love lately! How were you originally drawn to the artistry of tattooing and eventually get started?

SP: For years, I created art based solely around dark and rather depressing concepts; it got to the point where I could no longer recall the feeling of happiness and warmth. That made me rethink what art meant to me and what kind of fundamental messages I wanted to translate into the world through my work.

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At last, I came to the conclusion that art, to me, means love and positive energy. I can only hope that as an artist, the energy in my work extends in comforting those who weep before falling asleep. I felt like I could achieve my goal of providing people peace through tattoos, which are obviously permanent, spiritual symbols.

L: As an artist, what are some goals and dreams you have? Are there any that would be dedicated for fulfilment by the end of 2020?

SP: In Korean society, I feel as if there is still a negative connotation with tattoos. That being said, I plan on creating pieces of work that spreads positivity to ultimately destigmatize that culture. Once the Coronavirus is less of a threat, I plan on travelling the world to tattoo mementos of positivity. As for 2020, I want to host a small gallery of my unreleased work as a collection!

L: Your work seems to carry a distinct theme of not following the “traditional rules of tattoos” which is refreshing and eye-catching. How did you come to develop this specific style?

SP: While tattooists can ink brilliant pieces of work on their clients, I believe that artists have the ability to listen to the client and create accordingly. Most of the time, people seem to have a difficult time expressing their lives through drawings, so I like to listen and produce a vision that correlates to their stories. I think of it as translating their life into a physical vision.

L: Where and how do you find inspiration for your work these days?

SP: Just like when I first started, I am inspired by both the emotion of love, and strolls. I’d say nature in general and the person I wholeheartedly love are my muses. I also like to get lost in my thoughts while watching independent films as well as truly admire contemporary art. As for specific figures, it changes time to time; I mean just last week, a client baked and brought scones. They claimed they had just started baking, but it was delicious. I can probably say that I was inspired by those scones.

L: Lastly, do you have a tip for our readers regarding what you should consider before getting a tattoo?

SP: There’s one thing that you must ponder beforehand: ask yourself, ‘am I in love with the vision enough?’.

You can find more of Stamina Park at @sinewpark_tt on Instagram.

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Angel Affection

isabella smith

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J

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matilda

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In my first year of university I lived with a girl called Jessie. We were never particularly close, but something about her always seemed to strike a chord within me. When I think of that year, I think of her. Out of all the new, wonderful and overwhelming experiences I had, she’s still the first thing that comes to mind. Of all my four flatmates she made the biggest impression on me, and I think the others felt that way too. She was like the baby of the family. She would play with her food and make a mess, spit in our cups for fun, and keep her groceries in the fridge until they were green with mould. Every day, it seemed, she did something to surprise us. One day she would walk forty minutes into town to get a bubble tea and come back with leggings instead. The next she would go to the park at five am because she wanted to see the sunrise before she slept. We often got annoyed with her, but still, we loved her. I think she saw that spark in our eyes, heard the laugh behind our words, knew that we would never mean her any harm. She must have liked the attention, and I still wonder why. Maybe it gave her someone to be. I guess being the weird one was better than not being anyone at all.

For someone who had lived almost their whole life in Edinburgh, her accent was not at all Scottish, but rather seemed to be absorbed straight out of an American high school film.

The first few days living with her she struck me as rude. When we saw each other in the kitchen she would not initiate a conversation but avoid my gaze until I broke the silence. This didn’t last for long however, and less than seven days later she poured her heart out into our open arms. One of the first nights she had met a guy she liked and the following weeks she would not talk about anything but him. She sat in the kitchen with us sometimes, her knees pulled up to her chin, rocking back and forth, repeating over and over again how she loved him, and how he would never love her. Sometimes she would be crying. I wonder how it could have been that she fell so quick, and for someone who barely knew she existed. I talked to him once at a flat party, trying to figure out what Jessie saw in him, but I couldn’t. He was arrogant, kept talking of how much he had drunk, and seemed fully uninterested in me, even though no one else stood by waiting to entertain him when I had gone away. I hated him for being so ignorant towards Jessie, for making her feel all these things, but the truth was that he couldn’t have known. Maybe it wasn’t so much this particular boy, but more that she felt she needed to do something, like with her childlike misbehaviours, just to be someone.

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She had a strange habit of speaking to herself. Sometimes I would hear her at night, saying things over and over again, words like “I’m so lonely, I’m so lonely”, although, most of what she said was cheerful and speculative, like an unedited excerpt taken straight out of her head. I admired this habit of hers, because she seemed so imaginative. When she was in the shower the rest of us would stand outside and listen to her speak. “Do you ever just watch a movie and the actors are just so talented that you want to jump into the movie and act with them and dance with them and just have them admire you back?”. We would smile and giggle and try to remember what she had said, so that we could halt our laughs until she was with us, trying to step as far away as possible from the idea that we were laughing at her. I used to write down things she had said in my diary. Most of what it was so wholesome that I never wanted to forget it. “I never thought I’d be the type to go out”, she once said, “I thought I would sit alone in my room each night and be happy that way.” It felt like those utterings, when she thought no one could hear her, showed us what it was like inside her mind. With other people you had to guess, with Jessie, all you needed to do was listen. She wrote poems and short stories too, and I’m sure they were as wonderful and lyrical as the words she said aloud, but she never let me read them, although of course, I didn’t ask. I could tell though when she had been writing. She would say she was stressed and that she should have been studying, but her eyes gleamed and her posture was relaxed. She often talked of all the studying she should be doing, and sometimes I wonder if she ever studied in her room and just pretended not to. She would always make a big deal about having people over for study dates. These would start sometime between eight and midnight and continue for hours.

I never saw any of them do any work, and whenever I walked in, they would just be talking.

Her friends would tell me they had all done their work but Jessie.

The truth was I didn’t see much of her. I would go to bed at eight or nine most nights, and she would sleep all day, skip her lectures and wake up around six in the night. Sometimes I saw her when I woke up in the mornings, just as she was about to go to bed. Despite her lacking attendance she got more A’s than me. For her first math exam she started studying at midnight the night before the test and still, she got a better grade than anyone else she knew.

She was one of the strangest people I had ever met, but still, I loved her tenderly and I wish we had stayed friends. After we moved out I only saw her a few times. We bumped into each other on crowded dance floors and in the library stairs, but we never talked for long, and we never made coffee date promises. After all, we knew we wouldn’t keep them.

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explodes under pressure august knibutat

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Spaghetti emma

Colander

Stars

gauvin

I don’t remember how we met.

It was in kindergarten, maybe outside on the swings or sitting next to each other in arts and crafts. I don’t remember if I talked to you first or if it was you who came up to me, but we became friends. I don’t remember how our friendship started, but I remember everything that came after it.

In the 1st grade, we would have sleepovers. I’d hand my mother’s handwritten permission slip to the bus driver so that I could get off at your stop instead of mine. You would lock me in the bathroom to eat all the snacks I brought with me. In the morning, your mom would make perfectly cooked pancakes. You ate them with maple syrup, and I was fine with just butter.

In the 3rd grade, we would spend the summer at your cottage. We would roll the windows down and eat McDonald’s French fries while listening to Valerie and Jessie’s Girl on the drive over. We would sleep on your twin-sized bed at night and have seaweed fights by day. I remember that one time we got stuck out on the ocean on an old canoe; I forced you to get out and push because I didn’t have water shoes on and I couldn’t touch the bottom. You pulled us to shore.

In the 5th grade, we would play Just Dance on the Wii and watch wildly inappropriate movies together in our basements. We would call the radio station every night to fill the time, hoping they’d take our song requests. I remember leaning over your bathroom sink, the blood from my nose leaking all over the place after you accidentally kneed me in the face. I sat on the toilet, holding clumped up toilet paper to my face as you kept trying to make me laugh, while you held the phone to your ear, still on hold with the radio station.

In the 6th grade, you went to the English school for its drama department. I went to the French school my sisters went to before me. We started drifting apart; you got into drugs, I struggled in school. I remember you made me promise that no matter what you told me, I would never see you as a ‘wild child’ and that we would stay friends. I still don’t consider you to be a wild child, but you are still my friend.

In the 7th grade, I moved away. We spent our last few days together staying up late, the sky an early-morning baby blue by the time we fell asleep. I watched my first horror movie with you downstairs in your dark basement, and the power cut out as the credits finished.

Scared, we clung to each other as we felt our way up the stairs.

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When the power came back, we watched a coming-of-age movie on the couch. We fell asleep with each other’s feet in our faces, with my nose runny and eyes puffy from your damn cat. The next day you walked me home. Later you’d tell me that the Beatles’ “I’m Looking Through You” always reminded you of that time when we both turned back and hugged each other in the middle of the cul-de-sac. I love that song now.

In the 12th grade, I visited you over the summer. You looked older and wiser; I felt more restless and bitter. You talked about rehab and philosophy. I told you I was gay, and you said you sort of already knew that much. You probably knew even before I did. We shared some of my grandma’s cookies, and it was almost like we had never grown up.

Now we’re a little bit older. You’re sober. I’m scared to drink. I think about us a lot, about all of our memories. I think about our first sleepover at your old house, over on Salisbury Road, where your mom would have us sit on the candle-lit staircase during thunderstorms. Just like how we met, I don’t remember much about it. I don’t remember if we watched a movie or played make-believe. But I remember the spaghetti colander stars.

I remember us sneaking around your kitchen after the sun had gone down, looking through your cabinets and checking the shelves. With a heavy battery-loaded flashlight and stainless-steel spaghetti colander in hand, we bounded up the stairs to our sanctuary, the air mattress on the floor of your mom’s room. Laying on the oversized sheets and the air-filled mattress, we turned our heads towards our little corner of the sky, a barren and dull white ceiling. You carefully switched the flashlight on and pointed it through the upside-down spaghetti colander, splattering what seemed like millions of little stars across our sky. We were just two friends with spaghetti colander stars above them, laying under a world we created.

I realized then that we find meaning in ordinary things because of the significance they hold in our relationships. Life is so much better when the sound of church bells reminds you of your grandfather, or the smell of chalk reminds you of your sister. Our inside jokes, our songs, our memories, they give meaning to the mundane; they make life exciting and worth living. It’s witnessing the things we remember in the absence of those who we shared it with that makes us feel something, makes us cherish each other. You’ve given me so much, I can’t see the world without seeing you too. The canoes, the bloody noses, and the spaghetti colander stars, all I can see is you. I’ll never see those things in the same way ever again, but why would I ever want to? Why would I ever want that, when my world has a sky brimming with spaghetti colander stars.

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Everything’s Okay as Long as You Don’t Think About It sophia

sonnier

I.

Every night starts the same and I always feel invincible. Tessa was smiling this really big glazed smile and was talking animatedly to Mikey and Elliott in the back, who were both nodding their heads at whatever Tess was saying. I was sitting in the passenger’s seat of her car, which smelled like the wintergreen flavored gum she was constantly chewing, and everybody was excited about how much fun Luke’s party was going to be. I knew that I’d probably be crying on the floor of his bathroom with a pounding headache by the end of the night, but I pretended to ignore this fact. It was our routine; bland, familiar, and painless all at once.

Tess was driving even more manically than usual, and the street signs were blurring into each other, becoming vague outlines of almost shapes. She took a sharp turn, and I’m kinda worried we’re going to get in a car accident. I’m terrified of the idea of us mangled on the side of the road with pieces of glass embedded in our skin, and I immediately start to think about the kids who had gotten into that freak accident last year. I’m about to tell Tessa to slow down, but Mikey and Elliot seemed calm in the back so I just bit my nails in silence.

I close my eyes for the rest of the ride, and a few minutes later we pull up at Luke’s suburban two-story that already looks trashed.

“I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be fun tonight, but at the same time I’m worried I’m gonna end up doing something I’ll regret tomorrow,” Tessa says, shaking her head so intensely that her dyed blue curls hit my shoulder. It was weird to hear Tess nervous, and it only got me more anxious for the night.

“You’re gonna be fine,” I gave her a soft smile even though I was worried too, and she jumped out of the car. And I think all she needed was to hear that she was going to be ok. A second later I’m no longer in the car and I’m walking inside Luke’s house with Elliott’s arm around my shoulder, laughing at something Mikey said.

II.

It’s loud inside and Tessa ditches us the second we step in, which is such a Tessa thing to do I don’t know why it even bothers me at this point. Mikey and Elliott tell me they’re gonna go talk to their friend Tyler and walk off into a corner, leaving me stranded. I look around to see if I know anyone, but everyone kinda looks the same and their faces just melt into each other like liquefied ice cream.

I’m tempted just to call Tess and try to find her, but I knew if I did I’d probably end up yelling at her for leaving me alone. I start to walk through the sea of bodies, and so many people’s elbows and knees keep hitting me every few seconds that I’m thoroughly annoyed by the time I’m on the other side of the room. I’m not even sure what I’m looking for, but I know I need something to keep my mind off the panic I felt from being left alone in a place full of strangers. I walk around the party for a few more minutes, and then someone runs into me so hard I fall down. And as I sat there on the ground, unable to get up, I started to think that maybe Tessa wasn’t even a friend at all for bringing me here.

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III.

It’s important to note that even though I was mad at Tessa, I didn’t really think she was a bad friend. She really was great most of the time. She always bought my cute gifts for holidays and would check in on me when I was sick, but she just didn’t think the same way I did. Tess was loud and outgoing, and I wasn’t. She didn’t understand why I’d get upset when she’d leave me at parties, because to her everyone was a friend.

And when I met Tess in third grade, we’d hated each other. And usually, I don’t even remember why, but on nights like these, I do.

IV.

I know I must look like a mess. I don’t know how I spiraled this much in such a short period of time but one second I was just sitting there on the ground and then the next I could hardly breathe.

I’m so sweaty that my hair is matted and stuck to my face. The dark lipstick I’d gotten my mom to expertly apply earlier was now smeared across my face, and I knew I should be bothered by it because I had spent hours looking for the perfect shade, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t even manage to feel annoyed because I just felt too panicky and uncomfortable. I was so mad at myself for a reason I couldn’t even put my finger on.

Everything just started to spin and it wouldn’t stop spinning and then I was crying and everyone looked so mean. I can hardly think and I feel like I’m just a faker for just coming here tonight. I couldn’t understand how I thought I could pretend that everything was okay when it obviously wasn’t.

I see Mikey walking up to me and I guess he can tell by the expression on my face that I’m not okay because he just sighs and takes out his phone to call Tessa, who is normally the only one who can calm me down when I’m like this.

When she walks up and I can tell she’s annoyed. “I leave her alone for one hour and she has a panic attack. What the hell is wrong with her?” Tessa was talking to Mikey like I wasn’t even standing there. I wanted to tell her that I didn’t know what was wrong with me either and if I did I’d really try to be better. But I just stood there saying nothing instead.

“What’s wrong?” She asks me, and for some reason it bothers me a lot more than it should.

“I don’t know but all I wanna do right now is cry and you really aren’t making me feel any better,” I quip back at her defensively, which probably isn’t the best move on my part but I can’t even help it at this point. Whenever I’m in a state like this Tessa’s presence always seems to make me even more uncomfortable. Usually because most of the situations I get into are because of her.

“You’re going to be fine,” Tessa says slowly, annunciating every syllable like she’s talking to a child.

I know she’s sick of always dealing with my panic attacks, but I don’t really care

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because how’d she’d spoken to me irritated me. I wasn’t her child to patronize.

“Tess, I really don’t want to hear you speak to me as if I’m a kid because if anyone is a child in this situation it’s you. All you want to do these days is drink and party and I’m really fucking done with it. Leave me alone.” I’m lashing out at her because I don’t like it when she pities me, but somewhere inside me knows I’m being an asshole. I always push people to their limits until they can’t handle it anymore.

Tess just stares at me for a very long time, looking very tired and defeated.

“You know what? I’m not your babysitter. My job is not to make sure you’re always happy. I just left a very fun, nice conversation I was having to deal with you and you have the nerve to pin your mental problems on me? I’m done. You’re going to have to find a ride home from someone else.” Tessa’s voice starts off loud and shrill, but lowered as she went on. I don’t say anything in return. I just walk away from her and into the crowd.

I think about finding Oscar, who’s this guy in my French class I kinda like, and asking him for a ride, but then I remember him telling me he was going to get a ride with Rose and David earlier and they’ve always weirded me out so I just walk outside into the cold winter air, beginning my very long walk home.

V.

When I get home I can hear Maddie’s pretentious indie music through the wall of my bedroom and I’m so upset I imagine going into her room and yelling at her because I needed someone to feel the same way I did. The leaves I smashed walking back from Luke’s were suddenly not enough and I needed to hurt someone so they would feel as awful as me. But Maddie turns down her music before I get the chance to barge into her room and go off, so I just sat in my bedroom thinking about everything, which just made me want to cry some more.

I thought about Maddie sitting on her bed, humming along to that one song she really loved, and how just listening to that one song on a Saturday night that was enough for her.

Just to feel a moment. And how I really missed when it was enough for me. It hadn’t been enough in a very long time. And I realized that one day it wouldn’t be enough for Maddie either and she would eventually have boyfriends and come home crying from parties just like I do, but for now, music was enough for her. And it made me feel a little better because at least I knew she was okay.

I know Tessa will call me later, apologizing for saying everything she said, and I’d just listen and say nothing back even though I’m just as in the wrong as she is. I’d forgive her and she’d still give me a ride to school Monday morning and the cycle would continue on just like it always does. But thinking about everything just made my head spin like it had earlier, so for a second I just focused on the sound of my sister’s music I could still faintly hear through our shared wall. And for that moment, it was enough again.

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The joi

blur

in

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between wood

work cameron

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by gonzales

e t t

e h c

l e h

by

i r f

c a r

models: Emily Darling, Elly Santo styling: Emily Darling

home.

written by nikki pezeshkian - polariods by annie vedder When it all began it didn’t seem so grand or important, a few years and a few stories and the clock would keep ticking. But as the set path devolved, relationships evolved, and someway, somehow, they came together. On broken evenings longing to escape the dread of their lives, in the midst of the sweltering summer heat, slipping into oblivious enjoyment, they came together, and what a relief it was.

It became routine, part of who they were — breaking curfew to spend just a few more moments lingering in each others warmth, the shutter of a cheap plastic camera freezing a memory bound to be forgotten, cramming into spaces not large enough to contain all of them, but the perfect size to create a sense of belonging.

Life soon became effervescent. There was something about the way the nights moved, how they could sit together and watch as the pink sun settled into the ground, feel the breeze blow by carrying their words away with it, it was never not joyous.

All of their pictures were colored with nostalgia, the bittersweet smell of jasmine and fresh spring days emanating off of them. He peered down at the polaroid clutched in his hand, watching as the ink slowly traced the lines of their skin, mirroring an event that occurred only moments ago. The way the image formed was sort of how they had formed as well, an empty frame filled up through years, blank spaces that didn’t know they needed to be occupied, finally clicking together.

The warmth that came from looking at the complete image was indescribable.

Something finally felt within reach, something finally felt like — home.

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otherwise

Asli Özcelik

you may forget.

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* * * P O E T R Y * * * in nowhere, everything

as we stain our clothes and don’t notice until abigail phillips the next day, and gathering, staring into the sun for the burn and the colors.

Most people think of how small we long to be, where we are not friendship as a meeting nearing the end of the souls. A destined dance, of something that is everything and merging towards unity. But wholeness only this is why i always offer to drive so i can brings pretend to lose my way the agony of being known as i’m driving you home, I remember; I have moved to those tunes. Those waltzes, those adagios, so we can glow under the traffic lights five minutes more, those tangoes. They felt more like stars laugh until the reflecting signs wash dying. Burning bright, burning brilliantly with tears, out. I always seemed to end up and at a red light i can gaze throughout the blown apart. So once, instead, I fell, car like dust to the floor, just to see your faces, under the shoes, dispersed and why last night i dreamt that we were all from wall to wall, in third grade crushed under the weight sharing watermelon gum after school while of others’ love. You danced the clouds on me too, lonely and lovely and rained down peach softness over our shoulwanting it so. Then you looked ders, down and you saw me as i am afraid of the last time i will drop you and you cleared a spot, off to asking no questions, the buzz of your porch lights and the hush of touching none of my pieces, blue summer, and you sank to the floor i am afraid i will forget the euphoria and found my green-blue blue-green shards of your laughter in the rearview mirror and now we sleep in the sand at the bottom of the ocean and I let our shoulder(s) touch.

Conversation Between Passengers on

independent horror movie allison

Public Transit

stein

we’re seventeen years old in this second and weaving flower crowns with overlong fingers, and later getting up to roll down the hill with arms rattling loose from across our chests, breathing in a kaleidoscope and forgetting everything

eran

karmon

“look out the window next to the seat to cypresses, of hills green, blue; the yellow beams above our heads cry, cry, cry, Nothing will ever change, not for long”

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* * * P O E T R Y * * * “Is that true?”

it trembles, a homily, please Lord fill my saturday nights with company beyond my own two feet;

“I do not know hold onto that bar up there” “Okay” “Times in deep lithograph print slip through my blue oily fingers, Running, Soaring, a kind of soaring you know wasn’t meant to come back - I used to crush words out the air like leaves under a foot” “Before all this I liked to think of a house.

One that was kind, and had four walls, the ocean by the window I liked to think of a roof, and bricks I liked to until I wanted it so bad it couldn’t have anymore desire stay in its walls - four too many” “I sit here awhile Thinking that the metal does not have to be beneath my feet hoping that my fingers and toes will grow back when I get off, that it will come to a stop, that one day, A far day, but a day fixed at a point some time, I will give up my seat and they will know that it’s better here - that it was”

Friendship Shmendship helena

it’s a last minute (sorry) from the inside of my chest, untreasured.

they fire bad news from the underside of these wooden floor planks i cannot make it i am so sorry let’s reschedule are you free next week i cannot make it i am so sorry (my ankles are sprained) i run in circles. my friend says she’ll see me today and then closes her eyes and i haven’t seen a friend in weeks, legally blind (i blame my anxiety) but i’m not the one changing plans. best friends exist in cartoons, only if you meet in the right circumstances and say the right things. they’re six years old and love everything you do, then you’re eighteen and they keep you around (we’ve been friends for forever!) i don’t know why. i exist in a box with holes in the top to breathe. the air tastes like cardboard, i’ve got pins in the backs of my knees.

pantsis things aren’t so bad because i function in my own home. if there was a hand to hold, i’d amputate it bang! and make it my own. let’s reschedule (are you free next week?)

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abecedarian kari

in every element life has been moving in an abecedarian manner a structured state of mind i roll along, a wheel a plump round fly has been dotting lazily around a room that isn’t mine making acquaintances with the greasy mirror the pool’s soft belly holds our bodies gently wraps around our long limbs rocks us back and forth mocking this loser’s solitude my mind has been tapping in a rhythmical fashion clinking like copper coins dancing to the bottom of a jar a metallic tang on glass not sure if anything i feel is real or just miscellaneous parts expected to spin expected to settle expected to eventually fall into place

rivulets of sacred sink water snaking down trail collarbones suddenly sticky with a mixture of sweat, spit, and a piercing gaze. i yearn for a forgiving breeze gone as soon as it comes, damp towels passed around desperately in search for comfort, the last laughter before silence under a humid midnight sky.

Red Thread keisha

wee

The quiet was deafening and the silence much too loud We made promises, though none were meant to keep And away we drifted, words already lost in time Further and further away, from a childhood we had once sworn on Pinky swears and promises could always be broken And hopeful, wishful thinking was never meant to last We were always running away from something And someday we knew it would catch up to us

But we let our hopes wander anyway (because maybe we had a chance) hot summer nights katherine fu Blinded by the knowledge that we had time And that maybe we were lucky enough to esi yearn for the sound of flip flops against slick cape So we kept dreaming pavement, poorly contained glee echoing around this We made dreams and ambitions together, abandoned suburbia, the way that eerie yellow, post-thunderstorm though some may say they were too ambitious Too far-fetched, too out of reach, just much light too distant reflected in your widened eye.

But we held on to those in that moment, with i yearn for the feeling of gentle brushes against hopes they would stay with us toughened calluses,

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And maybe when the collapse came, that’s Words could never die, and good times could when we knew it was the end of the line never be forgotten The voices in our heads told us stories of a It was wishful thinking, a pipe dream, a delud- great past ed fantasy One where everything would the same, and And the pictures in our dying eyes recounted where nothing would change moments of a treasured memory And in that moment, we promised each other the world, an oath meant to stay unbroken We can never escape the chains of time beSealed with friendship bracelets, promise cause we know that someday it’ll all be over rings, and binding pacts Someday age would catch up to us and our lives would be taken But as all things go, nothing is built to last Even though there can never be enough minBracelets could break, rings could be lost and utes or enough days or enough time pacts could be forgotten We will still be friends, and even if there are We were heartbroken, though only for a while rivers to cross and mountains to climb And eventually our minds would fade away, as if nothing had changed I’ll follow the red thread to come find you.

We knew something was missing; it was like a part of us had just crumbled into ashes Burnt by the ebbing away of a precious memory Time would pass, and we would move on from that echo And we would soon forget about it all Nothing had changed, except for the ever-flowing presence of time Our memories had become foggy, our eyes glassy and cold And within time, it was all turning to dust Much like the memories we had built, much like the strings of our heart And even as it all faded, even as it was all turning to black We would still remember it all, as our lives would flash before our eyes That’s when we knew it was time to go, and though we had spent years running away from it It had caught up to us in the end Youth had promised us forever but time was our worst enemy

To Whom it Concerns, martina

taylor

I hate it when certain people compliment me.

Yes, certain— sometimes compliments fill me up, with honey, dripping down my chin to land in the very Crevices of my smile. But other times (with other people) you call me ‘cute’ and I retch, the sand is in my mouth.

I know why I hate it — it’s because I don’t like you, complimenting me, like you should have any power over me, to change my mood or make me laugh, Smile in the unabashed way that makes you feel good.

Your words don’t have power over me, even though they are your favorite tool. What if I told you that when you touch my back, your handtrailingdown my shoulder, arm, I want to morph, like jelly, into something you can never lay hands on.

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And to write this, the thought of it giving you pain, makes me ever so happy. Don’t touch me.

Don’t talk to me. You will never know how little I am giving you.

rainbows.

We only laugh too loud in the wrong places but jeez the sound is what I live for.

If you heard it sideways, from the wrong distance, I’m sorry for you to not know the harmony I am trying to break your heart. and how it resonates within me.

We code roasts across land, landing black-like All of our keys minna lee texts at the feet of our houses, by our wifi boxes.

We play stupid text games, black-like, knownYou distracted them with your ingly not knowing tap dance as I stole all eleven keys, who the fuck made this, So here we are now with 108 keys but knowing why, as being black, we should To open 90 doors, care...

10 cabinets, 6 mailboxes, We do care, about 80% of the time, give or 1 miniature harp case, and the E minor key take the day, of your favorite song I shall play it on this tiny harp and watch you but we also relish in the 20% we didn’t have a couple years ago, dance when we gather amongst our blackity black your way out of the Matrix friends; Our key to survival is a constant Shirley corny jokes, anime debates, and all the numTemple ber 45 bashing.

We care that we’re black enough to be happy Being Friends While Black right here wittney and I want to celebrate their blackness in my

lifetime.

My friends do just about everything black.

Chew too much minty gum, and ask for some black-like.

I don’t, knowingly, categorize everything we do as black but, although it’s unspoken, we know it’s seen, that everything we do is black.

I guess I don’t mind, not in this century I was born in, but ask my grandchildren in the next century and they just might call up my friends’ children to buss a laser in your ass.

My skin fades with them though, dips like the setting sun, new shades reflect on myself past the singular named color, we’re often

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photos by jessica sandoval

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hydrate or go to hell

in conversation with:

coco & clair clair

photography by Zachary Francois

written by Abby Waisler

The first time I heard Coco & Clair Clair was on a foggy Sunday morning in Los Angeles. All My Friends was doing a fundraiser for our second issue, “Generation Dreamer” and a bunch of my pals had come to hang out and buy my clothes for donations. While we were sitting on picnic blankets and making friendship bracelets, someone started playing music. The first song that came on caught my attention.

To my friend who was there I said, “Zack, what’s this song?”

Fast forward 6 months later to when I got the email back from Coco and Clair. I had developed an obsession for their music since I heard them for the first time that Sunday morning. When they responded to my email, butterflies filled my stomach. There’s a feeling that I experience frequently, where I’m like: These people want to talk to us??? To me??? What???

Coco and Clair are truly a force to be reckoned with. As their lyrics explore parties, boys, and staying hydrated, their pop/rap sound has been taking Atlanta by storm since 2014. And they won’t stop there; the world is Coco & Clair Clair’s oyster.

Abby: Hi! Wooooo, I’m so excited! Will you guys introduce yourselves?

Coco (CC): I’m Coco!

Clair (CL): I’m Clair… and we’re Coco & Clair Clair!

A: *get’s super awkward* I’m just like… I’ve been listening to you guys for so long and so I’m like oh my god… is this real right now?

Cl: Awwww I love that!

A: Ok I guess to start - how did you guys meet?

CC: We met through Twitter, back in 2014. I was in high school still and Clair kept liking all of my tweets, actually 20 tweets in a row so I was like, “Okay bitch hello!” Then I asked her to come to this party with meCl: Yeah it was like an hour away!

CC: …And the rest was history.

Cl: We’ve just never left each other since then.

A: So when you guys first met, could you tell that you wanted to be friends? What was the first impression?

CC: I think by the end of that night at the party I was like “I love you!”

Cl: It was just so easy and natural to hang out. Love at first sight.

A: How soon after you guys met did you realize that you wanted to make music?

CC: I think it was soon after because I was dating [this guy] at the time who is in the music industry and he had this beat he wouldn’t use because it was too much of a “Soulja Boy” beat. Clair had come over one night before we were going out and we just freestyled over it.

That [became] Posh, our first ever song. So we put it out and while we were at [that] party we saw that it already had 300 plays. We were like - wait a minute, hold on… what’s going on?

And then that motivated us to keep going I think.

Cl: I don’t think we ever had a plan to [become] a music group, we just did it once for fun and then people liked it. Even after our first album came out, we had no intentions to become big. We always wanted more attention [to our music] obviously but we never thought it was gonna go far or become big.

CC: We didn’t put that much work into it, we just knew that we were having fun.

Cl: Yeah, it was always just fun. Then after we got more and more traction we sat down and we’re like, ok, let’s talk about this.

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A: So you guys were on Racecar, how was that experience? It’s like the coolest music video of all time.

CC & Cl: It was so fun!

CC: The whole process was really cool.

Meeting Deaton [Chris Anthony] and Claire [Cottrill] for the first time was great, and it was nice to all get together and just have fun.

The process of making the song was really great as well; they sent us the beat and pretty much let us do whatever.

Cl: After the music video [was made] the whole process was pretty quick after that because the song dropped right after.

But yeah it was so much fun, I like featuring on songs a lot.

A: That’s amazing.

To change the subject a little bit, a lot of your lyrics are about your friendship or a story of your friendship.

How much of actual events go into the writing of your songs?

CC: I feel like most of the time we derive from real instances that have happened.

But also [the lyrics] are hyperbolized a little bit, but it’s mostly true. They’re usually about some guy that either one of us liked or some girl that either one of us hates! *laughs* Cl: I feel like when we’re writing sometimes we’re like, I wanna go in on this [certain] person.

CC: And then we’ll use that as our inspiration.

Cl: Our very first song was about a person that kept Snapchatting us and we hated them but Water was our first aggressive/fight-y song. We had been playing a show in Atlanta

and this girl walked in and came up to us while Coco was playing. She liked pulled me aside and said, “I paid $5 to get into this show, you guys need to do a lot better.” My first instinct was to scream into the mic, “F**K ATLANTA!” but instead we wrote a song about her.

A: In terms of the future, I’m sure more touring and music, but is there anything else to look forward to?

Cl: I feel like I have this never ending goal of being recognized by higher powers in music, press wise. I think definitely doing more PR-ish stuff, but we’re still definitely figuring out our brand and identity. But yeah definitely and album and more collaborations.

CC: I think it’s hard with collaborations sometimes because when you reach out to people who are kinda on the same “level” as us in the industry they’re usually working on their own stuff, but then we just don’t have the resources to reach out to people above us.

Cl: Yeah, it is hard.

CC: I think we’re just trying to figure out where we fit in and who we fit in with.

Cl: What was the question… oh yeah! I want to have a Pitchfork write-up, I want to be on the cover of a magazine…oooo! We want to do a reality TV show too!

CC: [Reality TV] is the end goal I think.

Cl: That would be ideal - keep putting music out, having fun, but then like becoming TV stars and then just logging off.

CC: Logging off.

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A: OK, culminating question: what advice would you give to your past and future selves?

Cl: Definitely chill out a little bit, don’t worry as much about what other people think, and focus on what you’re good at and what makes you happy.

CC: I would tell my younger self to stay in school or she could be done by nowCl: Oh God CC: -to party less, to stop drinking the whiskey, and all those guys that you’re texting right now: they’re not worth it. I wish I didn’t have a phone for the first [years] of my adulthood.

Cl: You probably shouldn’t have one now.

CC: Yeah… But just have fun, I think I did everything right

and I wouldn’t really change anything. I wouldn’t have met [Clair] if I wasn’t who I was.

Cl: I think we’re largely OK. CC: I think we were on the right path, we did great.

thank you to coco and clair for chatting with me! thank you to zachary for the great photos & all the help.

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Helena Stiasny

friends

month of may Lucy Blumenfield

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I quarantined with some of my friends for the month of May. The days were spent reading and cooking and watching movies and sitting by the pond. It was a weird, magical limbo inside of our current world’s bigger, more terrifying limbo. on the outside, it looked like we fell into picture-perfect versions of ourselves criss-crossed by the fire, they play chess under the blue light of a set sun we sautéed vegetables and put them over sticky rice we leaned into each other and fell asleep on each other and held little faces in our little hands moments that could become pictures look at me look at my little life look at this my own interior clashed with the peacefulness of the landscape and the carefreeness of my friends. why couldn’t I lift myself up from the heaviness? caught up in something that wasn’t this moment of green grass and hot cider. a touch I wish I could move away from seeking seeking it out each meal is one instance of a quiet, fleeting fulfillment and then there is the emptiness of the day and the night quietness, and bits of dialogue that wallow in themselves, build and build until they crumple like ash because they’re meaningless and contained in themselves just like each day, nothing spills over and yet everything is the same the same milky water that sits at the bottom of the sink when the garbage disposal doesn’t work mixed with vegetables and pieces of bread

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<3

thank you thank you thank you! thank you to ava, lina, katie, you guys are truly my forever baes. thanks for always reassuring me that you can hold down the fort. :,) thank you to zachary for all your help and for shooting this issue. your work made this project really special. thank you to coco and clair, to rachel, and to stamina park for wanting to chat with us. you all made this issue so exciting to work on and create. thank you to abigail, allison, annie, apple, ashley, asli, cailynn, cameron, carianne, emiliano, emily, emma, eran, gwyneth, harper, helena p., helena s., isabella, jessica, joi, julie, kari, katherine, keisha, lucy, martina, matilda, megan, minna, nikki, rachel, sarah, sophia, stefanie, and wittney for contributing, and thank you to everyone who submitted! thank you to isabella, one of the best people i have ever met, for helping me ship all of our issues during the pandemic; you’re the best, truly. i <3 the venice USPS! thank you to mom, dad, ansel, and doug (except not really doug cuz he’s kinda mean) for your unwavering support. and finally, thank you to everyone who has and continues to support AMF. you all are the reason this crazy idea has become reality. thank yous for infinity. that’s all for now, but we’ll see you soon on the next episode. bye!

abby

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scan me !

are we gonna be friends forever?

© AMF 2020