In This Issue:
AT AT MM Fall 2011
• The Art of the Busk Bingo at 7, Bed at 8
Blu-Ray Blus
The Amazing Invisible Bookshelf Quick Broccoli, Stilton and Walnut Quiche
Coffee Brewer Head to Head •
From The Editors
Brendan
Spencer
Ashleigh
W the air.
hen I was a little girl I used to dream about fall̶a
magical time when trees exploded into bright colors, the air turned crisp and cold, and Halloween was in
Growing up in the shadow of Northern California s evergreen
mountains, this was pretty unattainable but it didn t stop me from waiting with for the moment when fall would shyly show its face.
One day the temperature would be below 70 and I would know that fall was here. Then school would start and everything would begin to shift quickly. Everything, even the mundane, was new.
Like squirrels preparing for winter, we begin to draw inward in the
fall, readying ourselves for the coming cold by surrounding ourselves with as much warmth̶physical, emotional, visual̶as we can. For the 2nd issue of the Atom, we looked for pieces that evoked this feeling̶the transition from summer to fall, from shorts to sweaters, from outside to inside.
We hope that this issue will help increase your squirrel
preparedness level and welcome in the season with open arms and a hot cup of freshly brewed (and roasted!) coffee. Enjoy!
A
Featured Photographer Jorge Moreno Jr.
I
m a native San Franciscan who became passionate about photography as a teenager. I m a self taught photography addict. I take photos everyday, always looking for ways to improve and learn more about photography as art and lifestyle. My photography leans towards portraits which are intimate and personal. I believe people make the best subjects, yet I try to give that intimacy to any subject I shoot. I use photography as a means of self-expression ‒ I make pictures for myself, to identify with hidden qualities of my character, to better u n d e r s t a n d m y r e a l i t y, t o e x p r e s s m y interpretation of the world around me, and to interact with people I would otherwise not be able to engage with. My goal is to use my camera like Alice s rabbit hole, to open an unexplored world, a place of curious selfexpression, but also a world of new relationships, new experiences and most importantly new stories. My work is passionate, expresses intense feeling, and it is spunky, full of liveliness. When people see my work I would like them to feel a connection with the subject. Feel free to check out my work at www.jmorenophoto.com
AT AT MM Editorial: Ashleigh R. Hill Brendan G. Nystedt Spencer J. Sands Contributors: Berto Preciado Claudio Rodriguez Valdes Eli Sanchez Erin Fraboni Fordy Shoor Gwen Rowland Jayinee Basu Jonathan Weed Jorge Moreno Jr. Kyla McCracken W. Clay Illustrations: Garth Von Ahnen Sabrina Hill Additional Photography: Canbuydesign David Allen Smith Heather Moore Liz Clayton Puuikibeach Yara Tucek On the cover: Photography by Jorge Moreno Jr. Editor Illustration: Emily M. Seva PR Intern: Emma A. Nystedt
All work is property of each respective creator except for Creative
Commons materials used under the CC License. When attempting one of our DIY projects, please take proper safety precautions. Don t be a dummy.
Special Thanks: Our friends and families Dana St. Coee Roasters SJ Made
Š2011 Atom Magazine
Erin is from San Jose, California. She is currently living in La Jolla, California with her four fabulous roommates. Erin is a junior at UC San Diego studying Literature and Writing. She plays many instruments, focusing on violin in the jazz and classical genres. Erin hopes to pursue her love of writing and music at UCSD and beyond. Mostly everything makes her happy.
Gwen likes food. She always has done and always will. After a fitting amount of wondering, wandering and eating in different places she decided that living in Edinburgh, eating without meat and working for a homelessness charity was just right. Some evidence can be found here peasandloveblog.blogspot.com
Fordy Shoor is a Writer/Musician living in the South Bay Area. He is currently working on a book of short stories and a novel entitled Steady Diet, as well as helping co-write and develop the animated serial Copernicus Pox. Also a seasoned bassist, he has played with the bands Acid Westerns and The Ghost of Wrights. Kyla McCracken is a Seattleite living in Brooklyn, NY, where the streets are paved with good intentions. You are becoming a part of history by reading her first published work. Most days you will find her riding a bike, playing dress-ups, and recycling. Other days you wont find her at all, because she likes to be off the grid for short periods of time. She really likes to do arts and crafts, but leaves projects incomplete so that if she dies suddenly she has "unfinished business" to come back for and can haunt the shit out of people. Kyla has read the entire internet.
Eli has realized very recently that the whole point of his college education was to finally understand the humor that he heard as a child uttered around the old kitchen table. Since then, he has been in search of a small dog who haunts his dreams and hopes to finally come face to face with a dachshund named Robert Dog who has been conspiring against him all over the United States. He lives in Oakland, CA with his wife and a very fluffy cat.
I am one of many things, above all else...El mas chingon. Why Berto, whatever does that mean? Well I ll tell you friend, it means, The Baddest Motherf*cker . You can ask anyone that knows me and they ll tell you the same thing. I m originally from the Central Coast of California but now reside in Queens, New York with my girlfriend and two roommates.
Garth von Ahnen has been working as an independent graphic artist since graduating with a BA in Art (minoring in Astrophysics) from the University of California at Santa Cruz in 2010. Garth has been illustrating for years in a variety of media, often blending ink, oils, acrylic, watercolor, and hand drawings using photoshop to create multimedia imagery and animations. You can see his portfolio at www.artbygarth.com
Jonathan Weed is a writer, comedian, translator, tutor, and all-around good guy originally from San Jose, California. His work has appeared in Nerve, The Faster Times, and the Chinese version of ESPN Online. He is the cofounder of the Business Flannel writing group, which you can find online at businessflannel.com. Jonathan lives in New York city with his roommate and zero cats.
Jayinee Basu is a writer based in Walnut Creek, CA. She graduated with High Distinctions from UC San Diego in 2010 with a B.A. in Literature/Writing and Political Science. Her fiction has appeared in India Currents Magazine and her Bengali to English translation of Sukumar Ray s HJBRL is published by Yapanchitra in Kolkata, India. She has also translated several other Bengali poems by Rabindranath Tagore and Purnendu Patri. She is interested in neuroscience, eliminative materialism, gender theory, and is currently finishing a pre-med post-baccalaureate program at UC Berkeley Extension.
Claudio Rodriguez Valdes is an award-winning and published artist based in Darmstadt, Germany. He is self-taught and works mostly in digital media. His work has been greatly influenced by animated films and comic strips but also by artists with a unique approach of imaginative character creation such as Michael Kutsche, Bobby Chiu, Jason Seiler and Stephen Silver. He strives to always improve his art and learn as much as possible from each piece of art he creates.
W. Clay is a college instructor who occasionally attempts to teach. In his leisure time he enjoys watching dark crime dramas with his wife, and drinking snobby microbrews, playing violent team sports, pretending to play musical instruments, and confusing his daughters by using too many weird words.
Build a Home Brew Coffee Roaster The Amazing Invisible Bookshelf
BUILD
[DIY PROJECTS]
Quick Broccoli, Walnut & Stilton Quiche Sando De Panda The Omnivore’s Dilemma
CHOW
[OF THE KITCHEN]
Sucker Punch Blu-ray Blus My Chinese TV Family
REACT
[MEDIA & CULTURE]
EXPLORE
[ACTIVITIES]
TRAPPINGS
[EQUIPMENT]
IMMERSE
[ESSAYS, FICTION & ART]
The Art of the Busk From Peter Pan to Peter Banning A Night at the Opera
Coffee Brewer Head To Head What’s in Your Bag?
!
!
Bingo at 7, Bed at 8 Object/Subject The Young Man Featured Artist
Build a Homebrew Coffee Roaster Text and photos by Brendan Nystedt and Spencer Sands
O
nce upon a time there was no Starbucks. I know it s hard to believe, but it s true. To further compound the issue, there were no art house coffee shops where you could sit and type away for hours on your screenplay. Not to bore you with a social history, but I assure you it is relevant. Coffee became the staple of the American culinary pallet that it is today during the Colonial Period, specifically during the Revolutionary War when American tea supplies were cut off by the British (damn them!). That said, coffee looked very different. People bough green beans and subsequently roasted them in the convenience of
their own homes. There were no fancy roasters, simple pans sufficed. Green beans last a lot longer than roasted beans and it was not feasible until vacuum packing for pre-roasted coffee to become commercially available in the market place. Even with the abundance of well roasted coffee, roasting your own is certainly worth a try. Roasting your own coffee lets you experiment and figure out exactly what you are looking for in a cup; you get do-overs and you can try many things at a very low cost. Ultimately, it is just a wonderful exercise in the scientific process. With something as simple as a cast iron skillet, you can
give it a go, but that being said, the complexity of a home roasting set is limitless. Many sites offer wonderful advice on constructing your own roasting, Sweet Maria s being one of the best. More that just suggestions for building, sites like this have amazing step by step guides to what to look for while you are roasting. With sage wisdom from people much smarter than ourselves, we set out to build a roaster on our own. Being frugal (read: poor) we wanted to build a roaster in the shadow of the many fancy home brew machines we saw on the web. Bear in mind that they way we did it is far from perfect and there are myriad other ways in which you could accomplish the same goal, and quite possibly, you could even do a better job. Self depreciation aside, we absolutely succeeded and here s how we did it. We started at our local thrift store. We found a Stir-Crazy popcorn popper (effectively a hot plate with a arm that moves the beans around the heated surface), which is a common component in one of the most popular home brew roasters, colloquially referred to as a Turbo-Crazy. Our popper is mated to a countertop convection oven to heat the beans from both above and below. We were lucky enough to stumble upon a similar convection oven on the black-market Craigslist; however, our model was dissimilar enough to require modifications outside of the scope of a tradition Turbo-Crazy. A convection oven works by circulating hot air continuously and to be successful it requires at least a partially inclosed area. Because the dome that kept the hot air contained during our oven s former life was nowhere near the same circumference as the hot plate we had to improvise. We built a simple stand out of 1/4 steel rod to suspend our oven s heat source above the center of the hot plate and then made a 6 tall circular sheet metal wall to fit the circumference of the hot plate. The sheet metal serves to keep the hot air circulating while still allowing for exhaust (the coffee will smoke towards the end of the roast, so be sure that ventilation is not going to be issue). Another simple way to make your own roaster is to buy an air-popper (again, of the popcorn popping variety). That s pretty much it. At the most, you will have to ad a simple metal mesh lid to keep the beans from flying away. With a roaster of this variety, small batches are absolutely essential as temperature will be very difficult to control. To simplify it to the max, you could simply place the green beans in a skillet over low heat and stir them constantly.
After the roasting is complete, the coffee will need to rest and off gas for 24 hours. For the day immediately following the roast, the coffee will release a lot of CO2 (carbon dioxide) and if you consume the coffee before this gas has escaped, it will not taste as awesome as it could. That being said, the CO2 will act as a preservative so keeping the coffee sealed with that CO2 will keep it from oxidizing. Typically, your roasted beans will taste best if brewed after that first day, but before a week has elapsed. Atom Magazine never shies away from due diligence. so we talked to the roaster at one of our favorite local shop, Dana Street Roasting Company in Mountain View California, Aaron Bratton. He was fascinated by our attempt and was kind enough to explain to us just how stupid we are. He pointed out just how important temperature is, but the point he made that stuck with us was the way he used his senses to check the beans. As we spoke with him, he was constantly pulling beans out, smelling them and looking at their color. He also had a home roaster of his own, a commercially available one, which he swore by. In effect, it did exactly the same thing ours did, just much more efficiently. Acquiring green beans is not difficult. Most roasting houses (at least in our experience) are happy to sell you un-roasted beans. Moreover, there are a plethora of wonderful websites that will ship you beans, (we ordered ours from sweetmarias.com). Sites like this offer many varieties of beans from around the world and home roasting gives you the opportunity to explore the our favorite aspect of coffee; region. Different parts of the world grow vastly different coffee (shocker) and it is a treat to explore and find which part of the world suits your pallet best. For our money, North Africa, specifically Ethiopia, is wonderful; the coffee tends to be sweet with bright fruity notes like blueberries. As earlier stated, green beans are much less sensitive then their roasted counterparts and shipping should not effect them in the least. Like anything you do on your own even though it would be easier to buy it done, home roasting coffee is deeply satisfying. We re sure that it is entirely psychosomatic, but our home roasted coffee was rich and flavorful with deep chocolate notes. This is a great way to explore the food we are eating, something that we take for granted and really get in touch with both its history as well as the techniques behind its creation.
(1)
(2)
(3) (1) Welding a frame together to suspend the convection oven above the hot plate. The convection oven sits about four inches above the heated surface.
(2) We used a MIG welder to put pieces of 3/32 steel rods together to build our frame. We carefully washed all the welded metal to remove any trace of the ux from the weld.
(3) You don t need to weld to build a frame but, for the amount of heat being put out by the convection element and the popcorn popper, it made sure we didn t have anything melting come roasting time.
(4) The roaster pretty much complete, missing the galvanized sheet steel cylinder that holds in the heat and keeps the beans for blowing away. (5) This is what the beans looked like about 5 minutes into the roast. The arms kept the beans moving and if they jammed, it simply reversed direction. Even this early in the process, the beans had started to change color. (6) The ďŹ rst batch that we ďŹ nished. It was a little uneven but all in all, it did a pretty good job. Half the fun of a project like this is the ďŹ ne tuning that is necessary to make it perfect.
(4) (5)
(6)
I
and bolts are the most important addition to this project as we will hanging the selves from the bracket instead of supporting them. The washers are going to add a level of security to the project and really make sure that wood isn t going to fall.
To make your shelf (not yourself) appear to be floating while simultaneously holding up your junk, you ll need a few simple things. First off, your need a section of wood, preferably 1 x 6 or even 1 x 8 . I like to cut the wood into lengths that are multiples of 16 because that is how studs are hung in most homes. For our shelves to hold any weight at all we are going to need to catch a stud on both ends of our shelves. Any wood will work and it is important to choose wood that will match whats already going on inside your home. If the urge to paint the wood possess you, so be it. Next up, you will need two steel shelf brackets for each shelf you intend to install. You will also need hardware to hang your shelves, which is typically (depending on your brackets) two dry wall screws, long enough to hit the studs and two 1/8 bolts with simple washed for both sides. The washers
Once you have all of that, you ll need the part of the project that really sets it apart: two hardback books. This is your opportunity to really show off and/or get really strange looks from the people who will see this. I chose books that people who know me know I would never read. Also, the books will have to be big enough to completely your shelf brackets. Once you have the books, you ll have to designate the books for either the left bracket or the right. Let s start with the left. You ll want to open it to the back cover, like you are reading a Japanese book. Next, lay in your shelf bracket, square with the bottom of the book. Trace the shape of the bracket and then cut a number of pages along that tracing via X-Acto knife. Somewhere between 10-20 pages should be enough depending on the thickness of the brackets. Repeat the process for the the right side bracket, though this time, open the book to the
love bringing a little bit of illusion into my home. That s why I became an amateur magician. I m just kidding. I hate magic. Sincerely though, design wise, anything I can build that is going to make people ask how I did it is always going to be a hit with me.
The Amazing Invisible Bookshelf
front cover. Be sure to cut out little slots for the bolts in the bottom of pages. Place the brackets on the wood in the position that they will be in when you hand them. The brackets will need to be inset on the wood about a quarter of an inch to make the book sit plum with the far edge. Mark the screw wholes on the wood and drill out holes the same thickness as your bolts. Counter sink the holes on the bottom side of the wood the same diameter as your washers to help hid the nuts. Next you will hang the shelves. Find a stud either with your knuckles or a fancy stud finder (wussy) and, using the dry wall screws, install the first bracket. Using a level, find placement for the second bracket on the other stud. This is a place where we really need to measure twice and drill once. Once both brackets are in place, you ll hang the wood. Install the bolt and be sure to include washers on both sides of the bolt. The bolt side should be facing up and the nut should screw into the hole we created with the counter sink on the bottom. Tighten it all up and make sure that everything is level and secure. Now comes the magic. Invoke the spirit of a dead ax-murderer and take the book we designed for each of the respective sides and place them over the bracket. If it looks bulgy or uneven, take the book off and cut out more pages to accommodate the bracket. Once everything is dry fitted correctly, take a little of your favorite adhesive (I m coo-coo for Krazy-Glue) and put enough on the cover of the book that will be touching the bracket to hold it in place. Finally, place your books or DVDs or BRDs tightly enough that both end-books are being touched. Voila!
For Metalsmiths, Jewelers, & Makers
60 Celebrating 60 years of artistry
Featured Exhibitions
in metal and jewelry arts, sponsored by MAG
Remembering MAG
Lireille Gallery, oakland
October 20 - November 13, 2011 Opening Reception Oct 20, 5:30-8:30pm: Live music by Brandon Mei 3980 Piedmont, Oakland CA 94611 www.lireille.com Featuring work by MAG’s Founders and Leaders and selections from MAG’s Permanent Collection
MOveMENT
724 Studios, San Francisco
November 4 -19, 2011 11-11-11 Celebration/Opening Reception Nov 11, 6-10pm: Live music by Ramshackle Romeos and DJ Nicky 724 Valencia St @ 18th St, SF CA 94110 www.metalartsguildsf.org California artists embracing the movements that define the Bay Area
Plus, see work by Forging Communities presenters:
Conspicuous
Lola Brooks & Andy Cooperman
November 10-21, 2011 Opening Reception Nov 10, 6-9pm 2441 Balboa St @ 26th Ave, SF CA 94121 www.mondayspaces.com Nationwide jewelers in collaboration with Anzfer Farms Investigating jewelry and interactive displays for the home
Velvet da Vinci, San Francisco
Monday Spaces, San Francisco
& work by Amy Tavern:This is How I Remember it November 2-30, 2011 Opening Reception for Amy Tavern Nov 4, 6-8pm Reception for Lola and Andy Nov 12, 7-9pm 2015 Polk St, SF CA 94109 www.velvetdavinci.com
www.metalartsguildsf.org
Register Now - Space is limited!
www.metalartsguildsf.org
emiko@rewarestyle.com
Quick Broccoli, Stilton
Quiche
By Gwen Rowland
&
Walnut
I
t is a truth universally acknowledged that a normal sized woman in possession of a glossy magazine must be in want of a miracle diet. Those glossies want you to feel overweight so that you will buy them for their screaming cover promises to tell you how to lose half your body weight in a week. Luckily, I read Jane Austen and cookery books more than Vogue and celebrity magazines, so I developed a healthy interest in food and cooking. However, a good few years ago I read a phrase in some glossy which continues to haunt me: Pastry is a nutritional nightmare in anyone s book. This recipe came about due to it echoing around my head while wanting quiche and looking at a packet of tortilla wraps.
What to do:
This recipe makes enough for four people, or six as part of a meal.
In a separate bowl whip up the eggs, milk, salt and pepper then pour into the dish.
Preparation time is about 40 minutes. 15 for preparation, 25 for baking.
Crumble pieces of stilton all over the quiche. If you don t like stilton then any hard cheese will do; I recommend good old cheddar.
Ingredients: 2-3 tortillas 6 eggs 1 or 2 heads of broccoli 2 onions A tablespoon or two of tomato paste 2 handfuls of walnuts A splosh (tablespoonish) of milk Stilton cheese. The amount depends on how much you like it. (i.e. use more cheese if you re that sort of person) Vegetable oil, enough to fry the onions A teaspoon and a bit of brown sugar Salt and pepper (more salt than pepper in my opinion, but it s up to you) You will also need:
An oven proof dish. If you have a choice of sizes then choose the one that looks as though a quarter of it would be a generous helping of quiche. The best size is one where a tortilla wrap will cover the base and go up the sides to the lip of the dish. If you don t have this then any size that fits in your oven will do as the wraps can be layered to cover the whole dish.
Cut the broccoli into manageable pieces and steam it until it s cooked but still very firm. Put it to one side, but not under the hot water or it will continue to cook! Chop the onions then fry them gently with the sugar until they start to caramelize. Place the tortillas in the dish. Spread a thin layer of tomato paste over the base. Spoon in the onions evenly, then the walnuts on top of them, finishing off with the broccoli. If you like charred (i.e. burned) broccoli, as I do, then leave some parts sticking out.
Bake this in an oven preheated to about 500̊(280 C) Check it after about 20 minutes. It s ready when the eggs have set and the top is nicely golden. To double check that this recipe works I made it again with a friend who doesn t like bleu cheese but had a hankering for feta. So I did more or less the same thing but swapped the cheese, removed the walnuts and instead of caramelizing the onions I chopped them extremely finely and layered them over the broccoli to make a sharper taste. I have a bit of a fear of making the same thing twice... The way I see it each meal is unique. Quiche is nice with chips. The moral of the story is summed up by a quote from the Baz Luhrmann song, Everybody s Free (To Wear Sunscreen): Don t read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.
Sando de Panda
サ サ ン ン ド ド で で パ パ ン ン だ だ By the Atom Editors
Making (and eating) Japanese-style pocket sandwiches
T
here is an video that has captured our imaginations here at Atom Magazine HQ, something only the internet could show us. Something that reveals a perhaps hitherto unknown, universal truth about the nature of sandwiches.
It features a young Japanese man making disgusting sandwiches with more mouth-made sound effects than a first-grade fart contest. He artfully combines fluffy, thick white bread, Spam, pre-wrapped sliced cheese, and baked beans in a myriad of combinations all of which culminate with the use of a miracle product called Sando de Panda. It is a simple, plastic device which, simply put makes Smucker s® Un-crustables using your own ingredients. We can now reveal to you that it is as amazing as on the internet. We here at Atom Magazine were lucky enough to have one of our own go to the island nation of Nippon as a sex-tourist cleanup volunteer. He was kind enough/receptive to our threats enough to buy a couple of these wonderful devices*, and, in planning a get together on the day of his return, we received this email:
Although these unconventional ingredients might not make for an ideal American sandwich, beans, Spam and cheese work well together; low brow, Japanese bachelor cooking at its finest. Well, that wasn t good enough for us. We needed to take Sando de Panda and push it to the very limit of gourmet sandwich making. With that in mind, we present to you six sumptuous variations on a theme.
*If you don t have a friend in Japan, you can pick up your own Sando De Panda on Amazon.com
Italian Treat
This is a simple combination: fruit and Nutella or whatever hazelnut chocolate spread you like are always a great combination. We used blueberries but pretty much any berry would work, though we
would recommend staying away from stone fruit. We think Silvio Berlusconi would approve.
Vietnamese
Blending traditional French elements with bright Asian
flavors, Vietnamese sandwiches are a treat. Start by shredding carrots and cabbage with a cheese grater and place in a bowl. Add two tablespoons of rice wine vinegar and another tablespoon of soy sauce, along with any chili
sauce you might have (we used an asian chili and garlic
sauce). Let sit for twenty minutes. On one piece of bread, spread mayo and on the other, spread your favorite paté
(the more flavorful the better; we used canned pork liver).
Place a tablespoon of the slaw mixture on bread, stamp and eat.
English Tea
A classic sandwich from across the pond. Designed to be light and tasty the English tea sandwich is simply cucumber (the English kind is preferred) and
cream-cheese (preferably the Philadelphia kind). Thinly slice the cucumbers and spread the cream cheese on one of the two pieces of bread. Press and eat with one pinky fully extended.
The Greek
Hummus is a food fit for the gods and it pairs so perfectly with sun-dried tomatoes. Simply spread the
hummus on the bread and artfully place a couple of tomatoes. Pickled artichoke hearts or kalamata olives would make excellent additions. We promise this sandwich isn t bankrupt on flavor.
The Elvis
It is well known that The King s habits weren t the
healthiest, especially towards the end of his life. By all accounts, one of his favorite eats was the fried peanut
butter, banana and bacon sandwich. Although this sounds like a disgusting combination of flavors, we
thought we could one-up it: a bacon fluffernutter. A fluffernutter, for those not in the know, is a peanut butter
and marshmallow creme sandwich. Our Elvis sandwich is a fluffernutter with bacon, in the tradition of Mr. Presley
himself. Spread peanut butter on one half, marshmallow creme on the other and make some bacon strips. Make
sure the bacon strips don t extend outside the perimeter
of the sandwich. Stamp, cringe, eat, smile. Take our word for it, this one is delicious.
Fig and Goat Cheese
This idea comes from a delicious pizza combo. Make a compote of diced fig and onion in a pan
with butter and olive oil, caramelizing for twenty
minutes. Add two teaspoons of crushed fennel seed and cook for another minute. Season. Place compote on the bread and dollop with goat cheese. Press and enjoy.
The Omnivore’s Dilemma
L
By Anne Tucker
ike all of the other food fads that have bubbled to the surface in the past few years, veganism almost seems like just another trend at first glance. Along with the constant barrage of new gluten-free foods and milk alternatives, it s hard not to classify these passionate (and for many of us, unfamiliar) foodies as either temporary or extreme.
I d certainly never thought of myself as vegan ̶ like most middle class suburban kids, I grew up on turkey sandwiches and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese ̶ but as I ve gotten older, my awareness of the food I m putting into my body and what kind of impact that food has on the world around me has increased pretty dramatically.
After hearing about it from loads of writers and chefs I admire, I decided to grit my teeth and read Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer. A sort of 21st century version of The Jungle, I knew going into it that it was going to be a difficult read ̶ not just because of the graphic descriptions of slaughter, but also because of the deep shame I knew that I would feel. This shame is one of the main themes that Foer explores in the book. If we know that the way that so many animals are dying is so wrong, then why do we keep doing it? At the end of the book I found myself asking why I thought it was okay to keep doing what I was doing.
Stir fry ‒ Broccoli, brown rice, tofu, spicy peanut sauce (natural peanut butter, sriracha, soy sauce, ginger)
Of course, I know that switching to a vegan diet isn t easy. It s become a goal of mine, but after reading different accounts online, I ve decided that easing into it is the best option ̶ going cold turkey has more potential to get too complicated and overwhelming. Then there are the other concerns: Will I be able to feel full? Will I miss certain foods too much? How will I get my vitamins? Will I get enough calcium?
At the end of the day, I can say quite honestly that the cooking and shopping aspect of a vegan lifestyle isn t as difficult as I thought it would be. I ve realized that a vegan lifestyle can be borne out of several different motivators. It can be just as much about animal ethics and morality as it can be about considering where your food is coming from and controlling what is put into your body.
The short answer to all of these concerns? It s a lot easier than you think. My first grocery store trip after reading Eating Animals wasn t just easier, it was less expensive (God only knows how much money I ve been spending on salami and gouda all these years). I visited three sections of my local Whole Foods: the produce section, the bulk foods section, and the canned foods section. I bought vegetables I knew were flexible, easy to cook with, and convenient. And I ve really stuck to the same staples since then, with just a few variations as the seasons change. I realized that it was easy to stick to a few key and flexible ingredients, and play with spices and textures to make things interesting.
What I like to make: White bean soup ‒ Cannelini beans, spinach, canned tomatoes, onion, garlic, vegetable broth. Udon soup ‒ Udon, tofu, mushrooms, spinach, green onion, soy sauce, ginger. Roasted cauliflower salad with kidney beans, herbs, and lemon. Vegetable bake ‒ Cauliflower, Onion, peppers, tomatoes, zucchini, basil, garlic. Broccoli slaw ‒ Broccoli, carrots, raisins, pumpkin seeds, onion, lemon garlic dressing.
Quinoa salad ‒ Quinoa, black beans, tomatoes, onion, herbs, lemon. None of that sounds terrible, right? Not only is all this food delicious, but leaving out meat and dairy makes it much easier to cook. Finding baked goods without eggs and milk is a little harder, but not impossible. And it s pretty easy to make your own bread and muffins with a few clever substitutes.
Making a full, mental commitment is a huge part of that as well, especially when it comes to the pressures of eating socially. I m not there yet ̶ I haven t quite been able to give up my brie and baguette ̶ but I m hoping that I ll get there soon.
Recommended Reading: Eating Animal, by Jonathan Safran Foer Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life, by Barbara Kingsolver Why We Love Dogs, Eat Pigs, and Wear Cows: An Introduction to Carnism, by Melanie Joy, PhD The Food Revolution: How Your Diet Can Help Save Your Life and Our World, by John Robbins
suck•er |ˈs"k"r p"ntʃ|
punch
n.An unexpected blow or attack.
v.To wallop someone when they aren t looking.
n. A truly rotten film written and directed by Zack Snyder.
By W. Clay
I
ve been sucker punched before ‒ the inevitable result of growing up an incorrigible smart ass - so I know what it feels like to be assaulted violently by surprise. I ve also seen plenty of bad films (I am a film instructor, so it comes with the territory). I figured I could handle it. To be honest, I think I d rather have the black eye or broken nose ‒ I deserved those ‒ than have my belief in humanity and Hollywood shaken to its foundation. Sucker Punch... [Insert collective sigh] No, I didn t even try to like it, like so many other fans did.. I hated damn near every second of it ‒ but, felt compelled to endure it, because I needed to know Why?! Like apartheid, Alex Smith, Hurricane Katrina, Scientology, North Korea, and Taco Bell, Sucker Punch is inexplicable, calamitous and simply beyond reason (practically Lovecraftian) ‒ yet to understand it is to perhaps prevent it from happening again. How did it happen in the first place? This I long to know. Having worked in Hollywood, I know that squeezing even a penny out of a studio is well nigh impossible, at least for mere mortals and starving indie directors. But if you have the right connections, and somebody, everybody knows that you are destined for greatness, then raising something along the lines of $82,000,000 is relatively easy. Zack Snyder made zombies run. He is a visionary. Give him the keys to the kingdom. Snyder s Dawn of the Dead wasn t a bad film, but it wasn t a particularly great film either. 28 Days Later, on the other hand, that was pretty groundbreaking, but made two years earlier by
someone else. 300? Well, it got the intensely homo-erotic part of the Greek experience right, but visually it took many cues from Sin City. At this point I ve lost grasp of what a visionary is. A visionary doesn t follow trends, with the emphasis on the word follow. A visionary is detached from the zeitgeist ‒ giving shape to something savage in the wilderness. The work of a visionary should smack you in the face and knee you in the groin. Watchmen is the work of a visionary, but alas, I refer to the graphic novel and not the film. It is a work of penetrating beauty and horror with a connection between form and content impossible to replicate or adapt into another medium. It is mind-altering, though unlike some of the work of others in the same medium (Grant Morrison for example), not harshly so. Snyder s adaptation, though lacking most of Alan Moore s structural eccentricities, is still quite faithful. Visually it is impressive and manages to replicate some of Dave Gibbons panels. Omissions and changes are logical if not entirely satisfying. Overall it captures the heart of the source novel, but not its soul. So, if Zack Snyder is a competent yet not masterful director with a penchant for choosing projects that are more or less in tune with what the public wants (having just heard about or seen something similar), how does that explain the Amtrak pile-up, T-rex turd that is Sucker Punch? Allow me to digress...
INT. OFFICE – DAY A Studio executive sits in an immaculate office somewhere off of Santa Monica Blvd. His phone rings. He answers it. !
!
! ! ! EXECUTIVE Zachary, my boy, how are you? ! ! ! ZACK SNYDER (voice) Hey, yeah, I’m good. ! ! ! EXECUTIVE That’s great. We are just totally stoked over here about your next project. ! ! ! ZACK SNYDER (voice) Really? It’s kind of a personal piece, I’ve had pieces of it for years… ! ! ! EXECUTIVE I’m sure it’s going to be great, and really we’re just pleased as punch. ! ! ! ZACK SNYDER (voice) I’m still trying to iron out some of the details, really… ! ! ! EXECUTIVE Great stuff. The naked blue dude. And those Greeks were so fucking pumped, man. Where do you come up with that shit? Awesome. ! ! ! ZACK SNYDER (voice) Well, you know, I’ve always been a big fan of graphic novels. ! ! ! EXECUTIVE Can’t stand them to be honest, but now that we’ve got you, who cares.
He laughs, heartily. !
! ! ! EXECUTIVE (CONT.) Can you tell me something? Where did you get the idea to make zombies run? That just blows my mind.
! ! Umm.
!
! ! THE END
!
ZACK SNYDER (voice)
I m sure that there was far more to it than that. There had to be ‒ or maybe not. But if whoever signed off on this project did his or her due diligence and actually bothered to read the script, perhaps we would all be in a different place right now and I wouldn t feel compelled to write this article. But what s done is done and all I can do is dig deeper and try to solve this terrible mystery. I will go with my gut and trust my intuition. I believe the secret is in the source material. Seems our little visionary can t write. His prior films all began with grade-A source material or were written by someone else. No shame in that ‒ Martin Scorsese doesn t write, neither did Akira Kurosawa. But, hey, writing a script can t be that hard, can it? A director can give it a shot, read some Syd Field, maybe, pick it up along the way. Unfortunately $82,000,000 doesn t come with training wheels. Writing a script is hard, actually, damn hard. I made my own disastrously bad film a few years ago. Well, to call it disastrously bad is kind of an insult to the other people who worked on it, but I can tell you for certain that the script was a royal piece of shit. Unfortunately I didn t know it at the time ‒ was blinded by the need to simply have something finished on time to start the cameras rolling. I wrote, I revised, rewrote, but never really received any serious critical feedback (which is absolutely essential to the writing process, IMO). I figured the rough edges would be sanded smooth by the production process. No such luck. Bad writers write bad scripts. Bad scripts = bad movies. You kind of have to be involved in this process a couple of times for the lesson to really sink in. Do I sympathize, then? Maybe a little. But then again, my films usually cost about $2000 to make, and I have a hard time imagining Snyder or any other director of note taking a tongue lashing from an assistant producer assigned the arduous task of picking up pizzas to feed an army of extras (because it is bitch work ) or cleaning out his location s clogged up toilet at 4 am just so he can shoot the next day (because one of the extras thought it would be cool to stuff it full of pizza). At the first screening of my crummy film, as I stood in the theatre lobby, a viewer walked out of the auditorium, straight up to me and proceeded to declaim how the movie flat out sucked. That is the kind of honesty I am offering Zack Snyder right here and now.
Not Nolan Zack Snyder is not Christopher Nolan. Both literally and figuratively. The comparison is necessary, because the two men occupy similar directorial niches: large-scale superhero and fantasy films for nerd connoisseurs. But whereas Snyder s films conjure up stunning visual imagery and often little else, Nolan s invoke hidden depths and brain-teasing enigmas. The difference between the two filmmakers in their films lies principally in the writing. To compare Inception and Sucker Punch is kind of unfair, but still necessary. Both deal with multiple layers of reality and the fluidity of the human (sub)consciousness. Both films rely on visual spectacle to get the point across. Unfortunately, the one written by Nolan is intelligent if overly expository and almost unbearably taut and tense at its conclusion, while the one by Snyder is flat, lifeless and almost completely devoid of dramatic tension. Since there are no stated consequences for the characters the protagonist Babydoll s subconscious, there is no reason to care if something happens to them. If you die in Babydoll s mind, do you die in real life? We never find out since we don t know which characters are real. When Rocket, Blondie, and Amber die in Sucker Punch, it seems as if it is only because they are merely discarded fictional characters that Babydoll constructed in the birdcage of her mind. Sucker Punch also fails to provide any characterization: Sweet Pea is a bitch, Rocket is a rebel, Amber is Asian, and Blondie isn t blonde ‒ and none of the protagonists progress from here. Blue is interesting in that he is creepy but utterly devoid of menace, which is kind of a liability for a villain. He also speaks lines that should never be uttered in a film, simultaneously telegraphing plot points and saying absolutely nothing of any importance (the film often settles into this same sort of pattern). His demise is one of the only satisfying moments of the film (besides the credits) and not because he has done terrible things to the girls and is a danger to Babydoll, but because he finally shuts the fuck up! They are cardboard cutouts with no past and no future.
One Flew Over the Turkey s Nest It is hard to go wrong with a film set in a mental institution. You ve got the creepy, gothic interiors,
the crazy people, the strange torture devices lying around that allegedly did people good at some point in the distant past, the sinister doctors, the brutal orderlies ‒ all great stuff that usually evokes fear, disgust and measured outrage in the average moviegoer. One Flew Over the Cuckoo s Nest, The Jacket, 12 Monkeys, Cheech & Chong s Nice Dreams: all great institutional films (or films with institutional scenes) that get the formula right. Once you involuntarily institutionalize your main character, all you need to do is bring in actors like Brad Pitt, Michael Berryman, and Pee Wee Herman to play whacked out acquaintances, add a mean-ass nurse and a doctor with questionable ethics and the audience will eat from your hand. So, why then in Sucker Punch are we whisked away to do erotic dances, fight with orcs and dragons, and do battle with kabuki robots, when we could be getting up to excellent trouble in a sinister nuthouse? Babydoll is fighting for her sanity (or at least a fully functioning cerebral cortex) which is a little more gripping than battling a train full of digital robots to defuse a bogus bomb which will blow up an imaginary city. Forced electro-shock treatment, false imprisonment, attempted rape ‒ these things are scary. Zombie Nazis? Nope. Orcs? Not unless you are a hobbit. Kabuki robots? Only if you eat too much sushi before bedtime. Girl, Interrupted (which I respect but still kind of hated) really got the institutional vibe right. Even if you check yourself into an institution because you feel too crazy to deal with polite society, the place will screw you up even more ‒ or even worse you might have the misfortune to become friends with someone like Angelina Jolie s character, Lisa, who is more evil and frightening than all of the socalled evil characters in Sucker Punch combined. Maybe Snyder was trying to back away from this, because it was too raw, too real. Maybe he thought to himself, what if Wynona Ryder s character wasn t compulsively having sex with random family acquaintances, but instead was a video gamer? and he ran with it.
Zack Pilgrim vs. the World I m back to graphic novels again, whoops. Actually I ll skip over the fact that the Scott Pilgrim book series is one of the greatest pieces of literature of the past millennium and skip straight to the movie, which kind of sucked. But although it butchered
its source material in unforgivable ways, it does manage to appropriate and utilize certain video game aesthetics and modalities that are, when placed in a cinematic context, totally freaking hilarious. It also makes a serious statement (through humor) about the current youth generation s filtration of reality through electronic media. How does Sucker Punch contribute to this dialogue? Well, it certainly references the gaming experience: in video games you have to find maps, keys, fire, knives, etc. and run around shooting things while you do it. If you die trying to accomplish your mission there are no consequences, you get another life and try again. Sucker Punch certainly plays by these rules and accomplishes these extremely limited goals. But playing a video game is an interactive experience, whereas watching a movie is a passive one. Watching Sucker Punch is like watching someone else play a lame-ass video game. It reminds me of the game Dragon s Lair, which was the newest and greatest technological marvel in 1983. It utilized laserdisc technology to up the ante graphically, so it looked great. It also cost 50¢ to play, which was twice as much as another video game of the day, but players ponied up the extra quarter gladly. There was one problem: the actual gameplay sucked. You couldn t do anything really except hit a single button and hope your character didn t die. It was a passive and disappointing experience. Although my DVD remote has more buttons than Dragon s Lair, when I watch Sucker Punch, every button I push produces the same unsatisfying result.
Magical Girl If Babydoll had a talking cat, I reckon there would be lawsuits. Paying homage to an iconic manga/ anime character is kind of nice in theory. But, anime has a lot of elements that are wrapped up in Japanese cultural traditions and mythology that lose much of their meaning in translation. If you are a slightly odd kid (and let s face it, fans of anime are) and anime speaks to you on a personal level, then by all means keep watching. If you are Takashi Miike, go ahead and make live-action manga adaptations because your films already play out like disturbing cartoons (I just watched the one with vaginal darts the other night). If you are a Hollywood director on the other hand, you are messing with something you can t ever hope
to fully comprehend. The inscrutability of Japanese culture is a big part of its charm: so stoic, yet so perverted, so traditional, yet so iconoclastic. Mess with this, it s likely to go off in your face. If Babydoll is dressed like Sailor Moon and that is meant to attract tween girls ‒ why does does the film work so hard to seem like a disturbed pubescent boy s naïve fantasy of sexual violence?
One Baz Luhrmann is one too many Yeah, that s right. I m not a big fan of postmodern, cross-genre, multicultural pastiche. Luhrmann can almost get away with the MTVgeneration quasi-musical stuff he does because he was the first person to really do it and he is Australian (watch Not Quite Hollywood and all will become clear). If Snyder wanted to mix darkness, drama, and musical numbers, he should have studied Dennis Potter s The Singing Detective. I m sure there is a very good reason why none of the musical sequences made it into the final cut of Sucker Punch and I hope for everyone s sake, they never see the full light of day. The reaction shots ‒ sweaty brows, confused greasy smiles (as if to say, I just ate a spicy sausage ) ‒ are bad enough. I do not want to see Babydoll dance. Ever. Gyrating hips and trans-orbital lobotomies don t play well together.
Rebirth Will Zack Snyder ever be forgiven? He already has been ‒ his meteoric rise to A-list director status already suggests that someone important is looking out for him ‒ one little (make that effing colossal ) misstep is unlikely to shake the confidence of devoted fans and benefactors. Look at Brett Ratner, who almost single-handedly destroyed the X-Men franchise, it didn t slow him down; he s still having blowouts at his mansion, dating important athletic women (and underwear models), and making more money producing than I even want to think about. If you live a charmed life, a complete financial and artistic failure is but a ripple in the road. So much is this the case that WB has now given Snyder one of their most valuable properties: Superman. For Snyder, Man of Steel will happen, and people
will just...forget. Then there will be more muscular men in tights, Greeks in speedos, maybe even running zombies. When asked about Sucker Punch, collective amnesia will afflict the viewing public (traumatic events sometimes have this effect) and no witness will be unable to recount the details of its obscene ineptitude. I on the other hand, cannot forget, nor am I willing to forgive. Sucker Punch is an atrocity of bad taste, poor judgment and creative bankruptcy. If I was judge and jury of my own high court, sworn to prosecute crimes against the cinema, I would throw the book at Zack Snyder: $82M in restitution to the victims (he could make the check out to the state of California), 10 years of hard labor in a maximum security film school (janitorial detail, preferably), and 5 years of directorial disbarment (he can only serve as a PA or script girl on low budget shoots while wearing a special ankle bracelet). Or, he could waive his rights as a citizen and volunteer for experimental treatment: Eyes pinned open while hastily combined scenes of Sailor Moon, Moulin Rouge, Inception, Super Mario Bros., and One Flew Over the Cuckoo s Nest run in an endless loop and bad covers of good songs play at deafening volume. The punishment would fit the crime.
Jorge Moreno Jr.
By Eli Sanchez
I
t is that time of year every year in which
Yes, think about it, the Fanboys wet dream with all
films to some format or another that promises to yield something different than
every fanboy and girl who drives beat up handme-down Nissan Stanza probably could've have
Hollywood releases all their money making
it's predecessor, or in some cases, offers a bit more than the theatrical releases.
Earlier this year, Peter Jackson released the entire Lord of the Rings Trilogy Extended Edition on
Blu-Ray to satisfy the drooling fan base who had
the bells and whistles of a car with options that
saved up for had their film collection not
superseded their need to avoid constant repair bills.
I can see it now...
previously enjoyed the regular DVD releases of
Coming December 15th to a retailer near you:
theater. So, in essence, we had to wait about 7 years for those editions to come out.
Mega-Happy Edition (both a boys and girls edition), complete with modeling shots of Emma
these in the years following the releases in the
With that, WB s been slowly releasing the Harry Potter Ultimate Edition Collection out that
boasts reintegrated scenes that were left out of the original theatrical films (that being said, you can actually see that footage on ABC Family any given weekend when they do have a Harry Potter
marathon on cable ‒ if you have the stomach to sit through commercials for the umpteenth intellectually desensitizing teenage melodrama
The Complete Harry Potter Collection: The
Watson and/or Rupert Grint (each edition can be color coded based on your sexual persuasion).
You can eventually be hardwired into the complete
Mega-Happy Edition universe in which your whole world will become Hogwarts. Don't get me wrong, you'll still go to work, and live a normal life,
but you'll be plugged into a virtual reality in which
the movies play non-stop through your head the round-the-clock.
with overly made up 15-year-olds, that is). Those
That last customer who claims you short-changed
point only the first 6 films have this edition
appear as Voldemort. In order to destroy his
releases have been slow in coming out and at this available and no mention has been made of the final releases of the two parts to Deathly Hallows,
though rumors have circulated that the theatrical version releases November 11, 2011.
So, with that, there are complete sets of Superman, Transformers, Planet of the Apes, Underworld and various other popcorn movie
them at the drive-thru window will suddenly horcrux, you'll find a lit cigarette butt and thrust it into their Whopper at the most inopportune moment. If you have the Lord of the Rings software in your head, you can yell out, "You shall
not pass!" and then slam a mop handle into the tiled floor if someone claims they didn't get enough fries with that.
franchises that been released over the past
It is highly recommended that you don't plus
certainly give any earnest fanboy excitement beyond the dreams of avarice.
been recent upswells of incidents in which people get pulled over by the cops and the driver
several years in the Blu-Ray format that will
So, as next year promises to probably fill out the
HP slate, plus the expected 8 film box set of the
Harry Potter Universe, plus the rumored Indiana Jones Quadralogy being released to Blu Ray,
plus the promise of other film franchises getting sequels/remakes/reissues, etc, it is time to finally
yourself into Star Wars while driving.There have
responds with, "These aren't the droids you're
looking for." It is possible that Lucas has already released the Mega-Happy Edition of the Blu-Rays of Star Wars, but no one has really said. Lucasheads tend to be mum in public, but instead post their angst on the internet.
give a universal name to the monolith editions that
This is not to say that all Fanboys work at Fast
My vote is....
Case in point, September 16th (which is a Friday
The Mega-Happy Edition.
Blu-Ray) boasted most likely the biggest release of the year Blu-Ray wise with the highly anticipated
have consecrated the bowels of online retails, Best Buys, and the now defunct Border's Stores.
Food joints or drive erratically but you get the picture.
instead of the usual Tuesday releases for DVD and
box set, Star Wars: The Complete Saga.
Cantina Scene including a woman that Han Solo is
as are the rarely-if-ever seen deleted scenes from all six films. The deleted scenes from the original
more to the film in the long run? Hard to say. The Special Edition added some of the scenes that
Normally, the movies are not so much the intrigue
trilogy specifically are so hard to come by that
you d think that Lucas had left them under lock-
smooching with in his little booth. Does it add
were originally deleted.
and-key with the chromium guards of THX-1138
Empire Strikes Back s deleted scenes offer
The Star Wars Saga on Blu-Ray offers a
suit knocking over big blocks of ice.
keeping watch for the last 30 years.
cornucopia of appetizers that is sure to whet the
additional comical wampas parading through Echo Base. In essence it is a guy in a big Wampa/Gorilla
appetite of any Fanboy on earth. Specifically,
Return of the Jedi s most interesting scene
smack-dab in the middle of the dubious Star
his arrival at Jabba s Palace. Also included is the
buried within the bonus disc for Empire Strikes Back lies the fabled Boba Fett Cartoon that was Wars Holiday Special that featured no less than
Mark Hamill with even blonder hair, wearing foundation makeup, and Carrie Fisher singing at the Life Day Celebration : Life Day is pretty much a Wookie Thanksgiving. In this made for TV
movie, we met Chewbacca s family. Alas, we don t
offers the never before seen Luke constructing his green lightsaber in the desert of Tattooine prior to sandstorm that Luke and company have to walk through to get to the Millenium Falcon after
Jabba s death. They don t lend much to the films, but they offer again another glimpse into the further-reaching storyline.
get that here. However, for about $20 you can
The prequel trilogy offers additional sequences,
assuming you can get past the fact that most of
Star Wars Saga.
probably get that from some online seller who copied it in the late 70 s. Of course, this is the film is in
Wookie
with no subtitles and
some involving Padme s family, but not much that really sticks out as giving much more heft to the
features the talents of Art Carney, Bea Arthur, and
The whole saga does benefit from getting an
disks.
of the lightsabers in Episode IV, deleting the
Harvey Korman outside of the reappearance of the original cast. Sadly, you won t find it on these
You will find a great blooper reel of various humorous bits surrounding Star Wars, including nods to Robot Chicken, Family Guy, The
Simpsons, Weird Al, and, hold on to your hats...Donnie and Marie.
There are other nuggets, including a very nice documentary on the 501st Legion, a group of
Fanboys who have spent much time and money recreating their own stormtrooper costumes to be worn at charity or public events. Specifically, these
folks were chosen for the Rose Parade leading into 2007 when it was the Star Wars 30 Year Anniversary.
The deleted scenes offer some additional glimpses
into the Lucas world that was created so long ago in a galaxy far, far away. From the original Star Wars, we finally get to meet Biggs Darklighter, Luke s boyhood chum of whom we meet during
the Death Star Trench Battle, from an oddly-paced
scene at Toschii Station in Anchorhead. With that, we also see some additional footage from the
additional doctoring, what could be called the Extra Extra Edition which includes fixing the glow matte lines behind all the crafts and spaceships in Episode V, and Freaky Blinking Eyes from the
Ewoks in Episode VI. The most unnecessary change was adding a howling NO! yelled twice by Darth Vader both before and during his turn back
to the good side of the force and throwing him into the reactor pit in Death Star Mark 2.0.
Anyway go plunk down your $60 to $90
investment on the probable 10th different release
of the Star Wars universe, sit back, enjoy, and make sure you reintroduce yourself into reality
immediately afterward. It is best to have a marathon that weekend and do all your grocery shopping the night before to avoid uncomfortable
situations, erratic driving, and inappropriate
obscure comments made to the general establishment.
家有儿女 My Chinese TV Family
By Jonathan Weed
I
n 2009, one month after my college
Growing Pains, for those unfamiliar, is a
English. My 15- and 16-year-old students
suburban Seaver household. Mother Maggie
graduation, I moved to China to teach
were fascinated by American culture and
thrilled they had an American to discuss it with. Unfortunately, they had not developed the finely tuned sorting mechanism American teens have and could not distinguish between what
was cool and what was not. Sure, they watched the Lakers and Celtics play basketball, but they
traditional multi-camera sitcom set in the
returns to her job as a journalist, leaving father Jason, a psychiatrist, to run his practice from
home. Maggie and Jason have to juggle these new professional arrangements with the challenge of raising their three children. Chinese people can t get enough.
watched the Bobcats, too. They liked both
Which brings us to the Chinese television show
Museum. Lady Gaga and Linkin Park were
Chinese Jia you ernv, which unfortunately
Avatar and the sequel to Night at the equally welcome their MP3 players. (Which, for
the record, included both iPods and Microsoft
Home with Kids (a literal translation of the
misses the original s vague pun on the phrase
Rah Rah Children! ‒ a less sensible but, I find,
Zunes.)
strangely appealing name for a sitcom). Home
And when it came to television, their
the success of Growing Pains with a Chinese
enthusiasm for reliable favorites like Prison
Break and Lie to Me was matched only by their love for the Growing Pains.
hit
American sitcom
I should note that I did not myself grow up with
Growing Pains. During its run from 1985 to 1992, I was less interested in watching sitcoms than I was in being a baby. And, since then, it s continued to have almost no impact on my life.
Growing Pains is nowhere close to the first show I d mention when asked about American
TV, but talk to a Chinese person and I ll bet you, dollars-to-dumplings, that Growing Pains comes up within the first 20 seconds.
with Kids is an undisguised attempt to capture cast. And, like Growing Pains, it s a huge success.
Like Growing Pains, Home with Kids chronicles a small family as it struggles with a big change; unlike Growing Pains, it doesn t
involve the parents careers. Instead, mother Liu Mei (pronounced
Leo May ) and father Xia
Donghai ( See-ah Dong High ) are newlyweds
with children from previous marriages. After
the wedding, Donghai s two children, one boy and one girl, move in with Liu Mei and her
mischievous son. Together, this family learns to
navigate the ins and outs of their new relationships; like the Seavers, they eventually
discover that with a little bit of humor and a whole lot of heart, they can weather anything.
I first learned about Home with Kids after I moved to China and began searching for a way
to improve my Chinese. My Chinese education
in college had consisted of reading articles from newspapers; when I arrived in China
knowing how to say stagflation but not light bulb, I realized that this particular pedagogy had left some gaps in my vocabulary. This
combined with my less-than-perfect listening
comprehension and grammatical skills made my Chinese sound like it belonged to a lobotomized five-year-old who happened to be surprisingly
conversant with reproductive policy. I wanted to make my speech sound at least somewhat more natural, so I started to look for an
engaging Chinese television show I could watch
the first place. For Growing Pains, the funny
comes from the feminist switcheroo: the idea
that a father stays at home with the kids while the mother goes out to work is just far enough outside the traditional model that the show
feels fresh without being totally unfamiliar. But even though this seems like it ought to be a
source of comedy, Growing Pains doesn t take this premise all that seriously. The pilot episode of Growing Pains begins with Maggie cooking
breakfast for her children while Jason makes
oblique sexual advances as the children look on, a scene which could appear in any number of shows over the past three decades. And this
pattern continues throughout: aside from a few brief references to Maggie s new job as a journalist, the show does little to embrace the radical possibilities hinted at by the premise.
in my spare time.
Hence Bonnie Dow s identification of Growing
Finding a show which met those needs proved
television ‒ television which depicts a
challenging, especially since Chinese friends
were likely to suggest their favorite TV show rather than one useful for learning the
language. (I made this same mistake when a
Chinese student asked for a good American show and I unthinkingly recommended The
Wire.) After several people suggested that I might like a Hong Kong drama about the
abalone trade, I decided that it was time to ignore everything my friends said and do some
Pains as an example of
postfeminist family
independent, professional woman without
buying into the larger feminist critique of traditional gender roles in the nuclear family. I think one reason I find Growing Pains so
unappealing is that this basic complacency has aged very poorly. Growing Pains no longer
holds anything new, so it doesn t hold anything
funny either. The show doesn t surprise me, and I end up being bored.
research on my own. I watched a lot of pilots,
Unlike Growing Pains, though, the premise of
stand, and the only one to hold my interest
unusual: in China, a home with kids (plural) isn t
but Home with Kids was the first show I could after an episode or two.
After a few months, I realized something strange: I actually liked Home with Kids. I
found myself laughing out loud at jokes that an
earlier me would have found merely laughable. I find very little funny about Growing Pains, but somehow Home with Kids was a hit. Was
China making me stir crazy? Or had the Chinese state-run media apparatus really
managed to churn out a better version of a
Home with Kids is truly subversive or, at least, just a sitcom set-up, it s often a crime. The onechild policy (which prohibits most urban families from having more than one child at the risk of
stiff fines) is the Chinese government s main political weapon in the fight against
overpopulation, and, since its inception in the
late 70s, it has meant that many young people don t know what it s like to have siblings, and many young parents don t know what it s like to raise more than one child.
classic American sitcom?
Home with Kids doesn t hide the conflict
Of course, to answer this question, we have to
policy. In the first episode of Home with Kids,
figure out what makes Growing Pains funny in
between the show s narrative and Chinese Donghai encourages Liu Mei to accept his
daughter into the family by saying, you ll be
things, but the understanding and respect
Of course, Donghai and Liu Mei aren t breaking
Pains is something I really yearn for. There s
the mother with the most kids in all of China!
the law because their children are from
previous marriages (and Donghai s two children
were partially raised in America), but it s still
strange to see Donghai and Liu Mei celebrate a family which for most watchers is legally
between all the family members in Growing
something about these shows that appears to offer access to a different type of world. And if you can t be a part of the world yourself, experiencing it on TV is the next best thing.
inaccessible.
But, as a foreign viewer, this tension didn t
I think I liked Home with Kids for the same
Home with Kids. (Watching a sitcom from
Chinese families was on parent-teacher
resonate with me, just like many things about
another country invariably means occasionally
being confused.) So why did I keep watching? And why do Chinese people keep watching Growing Pains, long after its premise has worn out for Americans?
The traditional view of comedy is that it s a
means of escape, but I think many comedians today would agree that we enjoy comedy
because it s true. In other words, we find something funny not because it s escapist but instead because it resonates with some truth inside us that we long to give voice to and long
to experience. Laughter is the cathartic release
the comes from recognizing our desire and seeing it take form.
Perhaps Growing Pains felt true once. The show s predictable plots and run-of-the mill premise certainly make it comforting. But I think that, eventually, that comfort got in the
way of a deeper truth and sapped Growing Pains of its staying power: the Seavers
everyday troubles may have confirmed what
viewers saw at home when the show first aired,
but they lacked the insight that would make
them appealing to the more liberal and fluid American families of today.
I think Chinese people, on the other hand, watched and continue to watch both Growing
Pains and Home with Kids as fantasies--joyful
visions of a loving nuclear family. These shows
never mirrored what they saw at home, but they see in these shows truths that they want
to believe. One poster on an online Chinese forum about TV says,
Not to idolize foreign
reason. The only time I really interacted with
conference day, when parents and students are both nervous about the latest academic results.
Consequently, my vision of Chinese families was
bleak. I saw only children beleaguered by parents outsized hopes, and parents who didn t
see the strain their hopes put on their kids. I didn t know what Chinese families were really
like, but I wanted to think that they were something like the family in Home with Kids.
The show was a fantasy for me too, a way of
convincing myself that the true version of the Chinese family was as supportive and loving as my own had been.
Maybe, someday, as Chinese culture becomes more and more like the culture of the west, Growing Pains will become recognizable and will lose its appeal. And maybe, when I learn
more about China, Home with Kids will
become stale for me, too. But for now, Growing Pains and Home with Kids are an open door, an bridge from the truth we see
around us to the truth we d like to believe in. They may not be realistic ‒ they may not even be funny ‒ but they re real. And, until we find some cross-cultural versions of a good TV show, they ll have to do.
e h t T r A f e o h T sk Bu By Erin Fraboni
T
he rabbits were what initially caught
picked up his guitar and began singing. The
there on their crate, cute, fluffy, and
accompanied with the strums of simple chord
my attention. The little animals sat
irresistible to anyone walking by, the perfect
accompaniment to any beggar. So the rabbits sat, sniffed, and drew the wandering eye to the
toothless, crazy-eyed man sitting to their right, seeking the spare coins and strewn bills of the
passersby. Most of the crowd ignored the man, seeing nothing but another bum. The man may have been rugged looking, but other bums had
nothing on this guy. Carrying more than your average piece of cardboard, in addition to the
rabbits, the man toted an acoustic guitar which
laid in its case covering the few coins and
dollars he had made earlier in the night. Once my friend and I approached the man, he quickly
man was not bad; he sang folk tunes, which he progressions, filling the whole block with music. The rabbits continued to sit. After playing a few tunes, with a crooked grin spread across his face, the man seemed pleased with his
audience. At that point, his guitar steadily
balanced on his knee, he reached to his left, picked up one of the rabbits, and placed it on
his head. Without hesitation, rabbit now firmly settled in his thin hair, he continued singing and
strumming, only in a far more bizarre fashion. The whole scene was strange, entertaining, and impressive in its own way; ideal qualities of a successful busk. As a busker myself, I have learned all of the tricks and traits of the
busking business; however, my approach is a bit different than that of the rabbit man.
As much as I loved my friend, I decided to avoid
Before picking up busking, I had seen buskers
accompaniment. Once I had found a guitarist, I
but gave them little attention. Most of the street performers I would pass by were old, untalented, and potentially crazy, traits I
deemed unworthy of the coins in my pocket.
But as a violinist playing in large bands and orchestras across a variety of genres, exposed
to musicians of the highest caliber, who was I to
stop for a couple of folk tunes played on a
poorly tuned guitar? Young and musically conceited, I was lured to busking by that ego.
Dress rehearsal had just finished. Now there
were just seven hours to go until show time. I wish I could say this was for a huge rock concert I was playing for, but in actuality was
for something much less thrilling: my fellow
high school classmates and I were summoned to the Fairmont Hotel ballroom to provide
the trombone and seek out a more suitable never went back to brass. The guitarists I played with were not your average tab reading amateurs, but talented jazz musicians which
meant I had to learn to swing. Jazz was new to me; up until that point, the only music I was
familiar with was classical or romantic symphonic pieces. This new genre provided me with a new perspective on music. Jazz became an escape from the classical world. By
improvising jazz melodies on a typically classical
instrument, I gained a sense of rebellion. And busking only strengthened that rebellion. I took
jazz with me to the streets. No formal attire, no
concert halls, no dress rehearsals, just unrehearsed performances made up on the spot. Jazz and busking seemed to go hand in hand, so I got better at both.
entertainment for our school s annual gala
In the beginning of my busking days, it was all
hotel elevator had only taken up a couple of
that freedom became more familiar, I became
event. Eating, wandering, and joyriding in the hours, and I had no interest in doing homework
for the rest of my break until the show. That s when my ego kicked in and busking crossed my
mind. Having been given a couple of solos for
about the freedom I had as a musician. But as
more interested in the bills that landed in my case. This meant that the techniques of busking had to be further analyzed.
the upcoming show, my teenage self was far
I like downtown areas a lot, especially on the
I looked for any excuse to whip out my violin
diverse and content. This became the first of
from humble when promoting her musicianship.
and show off. So, violin by my side, I saw a
group of classmates loitering outside of the
hotel, and decided to take advantage of the opportunity for attention. Not wanting to go at
it alone, I persuaded my trombonist friend to join me. Despite the bizarre combination of
violin and trombone, we opened up our cases, set up our instruments, and began to improvise.
weekends. I can always expect a good crowd, my strategies. I quickly learned that weekend
busks are a must. The many restaurants, bars, clubs, and shops are guaranteed to produce an abundance of happy customers, willing to share a spare dollar during their evening stroll.
Among these diners, drinkers, and shoppers are the expected classifications of passersby.
Like we had intended, we had claimed the
The first of these common stereotypes is the
other people as well. By no means could we
nightlife of downtown areas. Downtown
attention of our friends, and surprisingly, of have sounded impressive or even cohesive, yet a crisp one-dollar bill seemed to make its way into my case. An hour and $14.68 later, my
friend and I were amazed. Though a small sum,
that $14.68 had opened up a whole new window for us, especially me.
couple. Young and old, couples dominate the provides the perfect date--dinner, movie, and
drinks for the romance seeking couple. What I noticed about each pair of lovebirds was the man. No, it isn t the dreamy gazes of these men
that catch my eye, but their wallets. Determined on impressing their lovely dates, the guys of
downtown shed dollar bills in exchange for
appearing so gracious in the eyes of their
thirty and fifty dollars, with an occasional candy
more promising for me is their offspring. After
more often than not, the money goes to dinner,
significant others. What makes couples even a family outing of dinner and ice cream, live music is the perfect additional special treat to the easily amused child. And what parent can say no to their little angel s request for a dollar
to put in the nice lady s case? Ninety-eight
percent of the time, no parent can refuse. Couples and children are my preferred
bar, phone number, or foreign coin. However,
drinks, lost bets, and parking tickets, whatever I happen to need it for on a particular night. Paying for dinner is one of the best uses,
though. Leaving the quantity of one dollar bills
only a stripper or drug dealer would carry in the dinner check amuses me every time.
audience. They are generous with the tips,
Busking is my favorite part of the week. It
making a good amount of money in a night, the
relax, all while bringing in some cash. It has
compliments, and smiles. As much as I love feedback means just as much to me. Although busking is an informal performance, the
classical musician in me still values stage presence and musical delivery, so a little recognition is greatly appreciated.
While these classifications of listeners are my
ideal audience, unfortunately I deal with the other end of the spectrum as well. Once the after dinner crowd heads home, the bar
hoppers and clubbers come out, which can be a toss up for buskers. On any given night of
busking, encounters with drunken individuals is expected. I deal with ridiculous song requests,
wolf whistles, and idiotic remarks but I am always sure to stick around for the easily manipulated. Anything as little as extra
enthusiasm in my playing or even a shiny pair of stilettos is guaranteed to catch the buzzed eye. And if you want to interrupt me to tell me about how you played the violin in middle
school? Sure, go right ahead if it means contributing to my case. Literally dumping out entire wallets full of cash or allowing blurred
vision to tip me a ten dollar bill that you thought was a Washington are just some of the reasons I thank the buzzed souls of downtown and the margaritas that put them in that state.
Oddly enough, there are not many other groups. The people that do not fall into one of these categories are mainly groups of
teenagers or those on their way to or from work, uninterested in the works of Mozart or Miles Davis. But really, the couples, kids, and
partiers are all I need. On average, from a couple hours of playing I will make between
allows me to socialize, practice, experiment, and really become my solution to everything. Bored
on a weekend? Broke? Suffering from stage
fright? Busk. In more ways than I ever imagined, busking has become a huge part of my life and
made me a better musician and a happier
individual. And if it makes me crazy and I one day begin toting rabbits on my head to grab attention, I m alright with that.
Jorge Moreno Jr.
W
By Berto Preciado hen we started out as boys and
something that was thought of as in the far
a family was. Some learned it from
future and many of my friends are getting
girls we all had the concept of what
sitcom TV, some from their actual parents, and others from their friends families. The social
construct of the family structure never became more apparent, to me at least, than when I was forced to play house. The mother was the
caretaker and the father was the worker. This way of thinking has since been changed as more modern families have arisen where both
parents trade the roles of caretaker/worker. As children we merely aped what we saw or heard about with no real understanding of what being a parent actually meant. As we grew into
adolescence and eventually young adulthood
(the college years) being a parent was
future. Looking down the years it s now the far
married or having children now. It s something
that s beautiful to those involved but also terrifying to me because, well, my friends are popping out mini-me s or going down that road. It s kind of sudden to hear that your friend is
expecting a child or that they are getting married. It s kind of diďŹƒcult to wrap my head
around the concept because I m just a normal
guy with a girlfriend that expects that he will go
down this road as well sometime in the far future but not anytime soon. My peers see me
as immature, which is not completely true, and I
can laugh at cartoons along with kids. I can play
video games and geek out with D&D and my
comics so it s not so much immature but more
daughter Aria. Finally joining the group is my
action figures till I was 15... I m not as
and proud father to his newborn Patrick. I hope
of a big kid. I m not going to lie I played with responsible with my finances as I should be because I want to get the next new gaming
thing. I m stuck in that Peter Pan land; I don t want to grow up yet. Eventually, but not just yet. It turns out that we all go through these liminal spaces in our lives that lead us into the
old friend Billy, a 26-year-old college grad/actor that if you are expecting or are just curious about what it s like you can get a feeling through these men s words of the
transformation that they, and someday you, will go through.
next part of our lives.
When you gents first heard the news of a
To those familiar with anthropology and the
reaction?
concept of liminality, when does this change in
baby being on the way, what was your first
a person occur? To those not familiar with
Bradley: I was shocked since it was not
bro. You done yet? What do you mean you d
there was a shift in the universe.
these concepts, I ll wait... Wikipedia that shit, rather I explain it... Fine. The way that I learned
something that I planned for and I felt as if
it was through the teachings of Victor Turner
Fonzo: I was so happy I couldn t stop smiling...
societies where rites of passage within tribes
Billy: I was elated but terrified. Tracy and I had
moment when someone experiences a change
everyone the joyous news, and a ways into the
and his study of tribal societies and non-tribal
led children into adulthood. He explained it as a in thought or experience that ultimately leaves them the same person but different in the way
they perceive life. A great example would be
either a quinceñera where a girl makes the
transition from little girl to a woman (that usually happens at 15), or a bar mitzvah, where
a boy makes his transition to manhood (in
been pregnant before, had announced to first trimester we lost the baby... It was rough,
man. However after we had healed, the news of
a new arrival came as a joyous occasion but we were much more cautious about our happiness.
I think there was a fear that something might happen again.
Jewish culture that happens at 13). Both of
Was your conception planned or not?
ceremonies and such but they come out of it
Bradley: Sorry about answering that question
these moments in the child's life consist of
the next day no different than they were the
day before. But during that moment something
before you asked it.
did change within them that made them adults
Fonzo: It was and it wasn t. After she
happen for a man becoming a father?
enrolled in LaGuardia Community College, we
in their respective cultures. When does that
I happen to have a couple of friends that have recently become fathers and I have interviewed
these Dad Sages to find out more about the difference between being a kid/man/father and to see how one deals with going through the
graduated from our university and before she talked about children and said if it happens it happens. However, her feelings about it
changed when she enrolled in school again
because, as she put it, she didn t want to drop a shorty in the middle of class.
liminal space of manhood to fatherhood. My
Billy: Eh... Yes and no. I know, great answer for
dubbed him, now is a 22-year-old college
finding ovulation dates and religiously trying.
friend Alfonso, or
The Fonz
as I have just
graduate that became the proud father to his daughter Sofia 9 months ago. Joining him is
Bradley, a 25-year-old who is also a college
graduate and father to his 2 month old
an interview right. No, we weren t actively
But... Yes we were hoping and ready for it. I ll be
honest... we really didn t have to try . I have confidence in my swimmers and knew that
when the time was right they would Michael
Hallmark and odd it sounds, but I needed that
What did you do to prepare for your child's
What kind of guy were you before? Has any
Phelps their way to that egg.
arrival (first, second, and final trimester)?
Bradley: First trimester I prepared myself
more than anything, I think.
of that changed? If so, what has been the greatest change?
psychologically by meditation. Second trimester
Bradley: I have always been a very sociable
wanted to be. The third trimester was me
buddies while consuming as much alcohol as I
I was trying to figure out what kind of father I talking with the mother of my child and figuring
out what would make her most comfortable and happy.
Fonzo: The first two trimesters was me reading
a lot of What to Expect When You re
person who loves to go out and party with can stand. Now that I am a dad, I definitely still
love to drink but do so in moderation. The greatest change has to be how driven I have become, because I m not just living for me anymore.
Expecting and making sure that Vikki was
Fonzo: Before Sofia came along, Vikki and I
We went to buy baby things and didn t have to
weekend tradition, as well as eating at
taking all of her prenatal vitamins and iron pills. buy much because most of our friends gave us
a lot of their old baby things. A lot of the
planning came at the very end when we had to figure out when I would be available to take her to the hospital, we had to borrow her parents
car, and prepare a birth bag for when we actually went to the hospital.
Billy: Holy crap man...gotta few hundred pages?
There was a gradual progression with me, like a
would go out a lot. Watching movies were a
Applebee s. We have gone out maybe four or
five times since she s been born. On the other hand, I ve always been a gamer and that hasn t
changed at all. Currently I m trying to be more
mindful of my finances, but haven t been completely successful. I ve realized that I need
to make sure we have enough money for
Sofia s needs. We don t live for ourselves anymore, we live for her.
snowball picking up speed. Priority was of
Billy: I m essentially the same person I was
Tracy and I decided that we were going to go
disembodied voice going, I now bestow upon
course, the health of the momma and the baby. with a natural childbirth at (wait for it...) home!!!
(Bum Bum Baaa) This was important to us and very important to Tracy. We did the ultrasound which consisted of me saying,
Holy crap, I
think he s a boy! Get a load of the size of that thing.
and the nurse replying,
Mr. McCoy,
that s the umbilical cord. However, I was still
scared shitless that it would all disappear. I just had this dark nagging voice whispering
constantly... It s all fragile...It won t be there
before. There wasn t a flash of light with a you all the powers of fatherdom!
I m still a
nerd for comic books, still like Next Gen over the original series, and I still believe in the power of a well made sandwich. If anything has changed, I gotta be honest, I feel like I was lazier before the kid.
What was your first reaction to seeing your child out in the world?
tomorrow. My turning point was actually during
Bradley: When I saw my daughter I felt this
said,
felt prior suddenly lifted. At the time it was the
the ultrasound when the nurse laughed and There s his hand...He s waving to you.
And sure enough I could see a hand. It was as if
the universe and Patrick had conspired and he was all like, Hey Dad, I know your scared. I m here, man. Let go of some of that. I realize how
overwhelming happiness while this anxiety I d happiest day of my life, but that continues to be superseded every time I see my daughter stare at me.
Fonzo: I was so happy she was here and
my family because that by far has been the
her. I don t know if I ve ever been happier.
The advice I would give someone else is to do
healthy. I bawled like a baby myself when I saw
Billy: Joy... Relief... Shock... In that order. And
love. I never knew I could instantly look at someone, that had been so abstract a moment ago and think,
This is the physical
manifestation of Tracy and my love. This is literally what our love looks like. man.
Kinda cool,
What are you looking forward to the most as a father? Is there any one activity that you can t wait to share with our child?
Bradley: I am looking forward most to the day
that my daughter can say, Oh my gosh, Daddy, why would the Giants not go for it on 4th down!?!?! It was just inches away from the 1st,
They re killing us! She is my lil NY Giants fan. It would also be awesome if we could run a game of Madden and/or any first person shooter and she genuinely whoops my ass!
most difficult aspect of this stage of my life.
your best to support your baby s mama but make sure to do what you can to keep yourself
happy. Taking care of a child is stressful sometimes and if you don t take the time to
make sure you are okay you will not be able to make sure your baby is doing well.
Fonzo: I would say bring it. I ve wanted children
for a while now, so telling myself I would be becoming a father soon would be exciting. It
would also be mostly weird though, because I
would be scared that seeing my past self would cause a crazy rift in time that would destroy the very fragile time space continuum. Whatever, I d
still be excited. Advice to others: Don t worry about how to be a father. Support your partner during their pregnancy and when the baby comes you ll do fine. Fatherhood comes
naturally. You won t know how to be a father just because you read a few books. You ll just feel it out and there is nothing wrong with that.
Fonzo: I am excited about tea parties and dress
Billy: I wouldn t want to spoil a single moment
I look forward to. When it comes to video
sadness, happiness, elation, sacrifice,
up. I think it will be adorable and it is something games, I would like her to play them. However, I would like her to not be addicted to them and have other hobbies, unlike me.
Billy: Dude, I m looking forward to sharing passions. In no particular order, Goonies, video
g a m e s , I n - N - O u t B u r g e r, F a m i l y G u y ,
Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, comic books, etc... The most though? Disney World.
For some reason, I can t wait to take the kid out on adventures and the like.
You guys have been great but I have one more question for you. If you could go back in time to let yourself know what to expect,
what would you say? What advice would you give to those looking to travel the same road of fatherhood?
Bradley: I would tell myself to get ready because it is going to be one hell of a ride. I would also tell myself to not move away from
of discovery or excitement. Every moment of
frustration... happened at just the right moment it needed to. It was important to my
development as a father. I wouldn t want to
cheapen that. But if I had to I would tell myself to stock on diapers, because this kid poops like
a champ. To another guy I would keep it short and sweet... Enjoy the ride, my friend. Don t worry about becoming a father, you have the
skills inherent within you to be one. Be brave
enough to leave the things that aren t important behind and be excited about your future... and buy diapers. Your kid will probably poop like a champ.
SPENCER ASHLEIGHBRENDAN
ATOM MAGAZINE
W
e, the editors of Atom Magazine, were oered the opportunity to attend the opera
in scenic downtown San Jose. Given that
none of us ever been to an opera before, we jumped at the chance. Collected on the following pages are our reactions
to the performance. Because we are all giant children and couldn t agree whose piece should get to to ďŹ rst in the article, we decided to try a bold exercise in magazine laying-
out. Each editor s article is contained in one of the three colored bars you see to your left. Brendan s is in violet,
Spencer s in grey and Ashleigh s in dark purple. Follow the colors from one page to the next.
Like my fellow editors, this was my first experience with the opera. I know a little bit about it from popular culture (Looney Tunes) and from hearing opera music and that one song by the band Cake.
I was very excited to finally go and see what I had heard was a good production of a scarcely-
Brendan
performed Mozart. I was extra excited when I learned that this opera wasn't one of his Germanlanguage operas, rather being in the traditional operatic tongue of Italian. The opera we saw was
Idomineo, set during the aftermath of the Trojan War. It's a classic story of the gods mucking everything up. I was surprised to find that I had a great time. Although the storytelling is a very slow, deliberately paced affair there was enough to keep me interested. Opera is all about the internal monologue, hearing the inner conflict within characters as their individual plot lines zig and zag. The
titular character is upset because he made a deal with Poseidon to keep his crew alive. Of course, as
there always is with those goofy gods, the catch is that he must kill the first person he meets once he gets home. Spoilers ahead! Idomineo meets his son. D'oh! Hijinks ensue!
Opera is interesting in that it is almost impossible not to know something about it. Whether our
previous knowledge on the subject is based in Looney Toons shorts, that part in Batman Begins were baby Bruce Wayne freaks out and subsequently gets his parents killed, or any number of
Spencer
commercials where rubenesque women in horned helmets sing Wagner, we all understand the basic idea. Despite its place in our collect consciousness, I know very few people who have ever been to
one, present company (myself) fully included. When I was given the opportunity to attend an opera, I figured this would be the perfect opportunity to expand my cultural horizons. I did attend, and
honestly, Looney Tunes shorts did a poor job preparing me for what was to come. Despite my youthful confidence that I would instantly fall in love with the art form, I did have qualms. That said, I
did like it. In so far as thesis statements are concerned, I ll say this: opera, while certainly a mainstay of refined society , does not necessarily play to modern sensibilities; however, it is something worth experiencing, if only once.
As a self-identified theatre nerd, I love live performances of any kind. If you ve taken the time to put
it on stage I already love it and I already love you. Even the worst theatre I ve ever seen I ve found
things to latch on to and love, which sometimes means I spent 2 hours staring at one chorus member or transfixed by a lighting rig. Typically I leave the theatre a happy camper, my soul
Ashleigh
humming gladly at having gotten to experience even the teensiest bit of theatre magic. So when Spencer called and said he d gotten us tickets to the opera, I was already in love with entire experience.
Now, I should mention a couple of things up top: 1) I have never been to the opera before and 2) Most (all) of my knowledge of opera comes from movies̶Moonstruck and the 1998 remake of
Little Women. As far as I knew, going to the opera meant getting dolled up, waiting for a young Nick Cage to whisk me into the theatre and then having Gabriel Byrne whisper in my ear for two hours. All of these things I am totally fine with. None of these things happened.
Because the titular character doesn t want to kill his son, he waffles on what to do with the situation. All the while, Poseidon haunts him and eventually
One thing I reserve judgement on is the style of the production. Although I've seen plenty of
Brendan
American-style musicals, Shakespearean theatre, regular dramatic productions and other stage plays throughout my life, this Opera had a much different feel to it. Like I mentioned previously, it had an
extremely deliberate pace. The blocking was very stiff which is something I attribute to the extreme effort it takes to sing opera music. These amazing, perfectly honed singing machines need all of their
strength and concentration in their diaphragms. It never ceased to blow my mind that despite the mediocre acoustics of the venue, the cast always filled the space with voice. Because of their skill, I tended to cut them a break on the acting front. It s hard enough being an actor in a musical where
you have a microphone stuck to your face with clear tape. I can t imagine my weak diaphragm being able to boost my voice to such immense levels of volume.
The singing is amazing, which is good because, get this, opera has a lot of it. We were lucky enough
to have subtitles for the Italian that they were singing in, because without them, I suspect I would
have been very, very lost. But these translations were also a source of frustration for me as they offered us insight into exactly how little was actually going on in relation to how long it took the
Spencer
performers to do anything. Apparently, Justin Canadian Heartthrob Bieber was not the first to just use the same line over and over again. Despite the apparent redundancy, the singing was beautiful and when thirty people were harmonizing in the huge choral numbers, it was utterly breathtaking.
The men s voices more than the women s were particularly captivating; if anything I found the female singing a tad shrill while the male voices had the rich, resinating baritone to fill the room.
The opera was saw was long. Like a Gone With the Wind slash It s a Wonderful Life double feature
long. The one we saw was a little ditty called Idomeneo written by that laughing jerk from that movie
Amadeus. To condense three and one half hours into three and one half sentences, the titular king
Here s the thing̶I think opera is a fantastic idea, I really do. I love the sheer audacity of a group of people attempting to tell a story completely through singing. I love that the audience doesn t have any idea what is being said because it is in a foreign language. I think young people should go to the opera. As Spencer so aptly put it while waiting for Act III̶it is a hipster s wet dream. Serve PBR and
Ashleigh
allow flannel and the entire genre would be revitalized. It d be so cool even the ghost that haunts the theatre would never have heard of it.
As high as my hopes were for the evening, they were dashed by the time we reached the first
intermission. The performers were talented, no doubt, but they lacked any shred of authentic
emotion (or exaggerated emotion for that matter). This, to me, seems to be the key to telling a story
to people who don t speak the language. To fix this, the production used projected supertitles. Still,
the performances felt robotic, especially since the supertitles clearly showed that what seemed like long soliloquies were actually just the same four lines repeated for ten minutes. After the 3rd refrain
The set design was another really cool part of this show. It integrated paintings from Crete and
Greece as backdrops for a few scenes. An extremely epic, 3-story set was unveiled in the third act,
serving as the setting for the climactic sacrifice scene. This production had some real cash in it and
Brendan
no expense was spared when bringing this story to life in a somewhat realistic setting. By realistic, I mean for a theatre production. Although a few songs were belted in front of giant paintings and the
curtain, the sets weren t at all minimalist, modern or abstract representations ‒ the designer clearly wanted to be true to the period of the piece to play a crucial role in the drama.
Was it long? Yes. Very long. The theatre was also not very well air conditioned and the seats were less than supportive. However, our seats were on the balcony and that s always awesome. Despite these issues, I have to say that it was a worthwhile experience and I would like to see another opera
someday. That way, I can have some kind of comparison and will be able to see what parts of this
has been away fighting in the Trojan War where, up his return he makes a deal with Aquaman for his
life that he will kill the first person he meets upon his arrival home. Dun dun dun! It s his son. And he
is in love with a Trojan prisoner of war, but some other broad loves him, too. Can you handle it? If
Spencer
this opera told at a pace more congruous to modern tastes, it would take like 45 minutes to resolve.
Ultimately, I think what made the performance seem to drag into infinity and beyond was an overall lack of movement. I don t know if this is typical of opera, but this performance mainly featured people standing still. Unlike musical theatre which features a ton of flashy/well-choreographed
danced numbers during the songs, this opera had people remain largely stationary for the entire
duration of the 15-20 minute compositions they were singing. This is sounding very negative, and that s not entirely fair; there was a scene were the priest were preparing a sacrifice to their pagan god, Aquaman, and the slow, deliberate/complete lack of movement made it that much more
I was ready to stand up and scream, Get on with it, already! The story was SLOW (the risk of any
Greek play) and the music just wasn t that interesting (sorry, Harpsichord). Add the fact that there was no air conditioning and we were sitting on itchy velvet seats and I was literally rolling my eyes by
the time we got to Act VIXXIIII and the curtain came down. And truly, all of this I could have forgiven,
Ashleigh
I could have pawned off on the fact that this one opera wasn t for me...until the curtain call.
After taking 3 and a half hours to tell a story that could have taken 15 minutes tops, the cast came
out to take a bow. After such a long show, they certainly deserved some recognition, but what happened absolutely sent me over the edge. The cast came out SLOWLY, each of the soloists taking
an excruciatingly long time to take center stage and bow. When one female actor literally started mouthing Thank You over and over again, I almost lost my mind. Many years ago I learned that
curtain calls are intended to be a time to thank the audience. That s why you bow, you are literally
showing the audience respect and thanking them for their attention. The audience, in return, shows
particular production were chosen by the creative team and what parts are operatic tradition. Plus,
it s always fun for me to get my suit on, spend too much time deciding which tie to wear (never mind the choice between bow tie and regular tie!) and do something that feels like I m an adult (most
Brendan
things I do totally don t.).
I know my fellow opera-goers had wildly varying opinions of what they saw that night and so without further ado, please enjoy it as they tear poor Idomineo apart!
P.S.: If Ashleigh gives this show crap for being long, I d just like to let the world know that she is a Lord of The Rings fanatic. Those are some damn long movies. That is all.
sombre. That being said, after three hours, they did throw in a brief ballet, which sincerely made me feel as though the ghost of Mozart was laughing at me from beyond the grave.
I cannot say enough for the costuming and the set design. This performance s backdrop was
Spencer
meticulously modeled on ancient Greek architecture and I really love the creative ways the chose to communicate different scenes. To represent a ship caught in a violent storm the production team
cleverly built a wrap around cyclotron that they projected beautiful blues and greens upon as well as strobe lights to mimic lightning. It looked amazing and even came with a seizure warning.
I won t mince words, the opera was long. But it was beautiful and startling and thoughtful. I can safely say that if I was offered the opportunity to go again, I undoubtedly would. It is an important
part of Western culture s historic and artistic identity and while it does not really lend itself to our modern, mass media sensibilities, it is absolutely worth a try.
their respect and thanks by clapping. At 11:30 on a Tuesday night, taking a 10 minute curtain call is
not respectful. I was so beyond done with the whole experience by that point that I left the theatre in
Ashleigh
a ranty huff, quietly bitching to myself about respect and its limits.
I believe I have it in me to be a great fan of opera. But this experience, as my first opera experience, left a bit to be desired. Opera has all the makings̶singing, over-the-top story telling, glittery
costumes, more singing̶of an extremely accessible theatrical medium...when done well and with respect for the audience. You can t put on an opera and assume that the audience just isn t going to
get it. You ve got to want to take them on the journey with you. And truly, all bitching aside, I have high hopes for my next opera experience and look forward to it. If you get the opportunity to go I say encourage you to do it. Just be sure to pack a snack.
Coffee Brewer Head To Head
By Brendan Nystedt and Spencer Sands
A
s many ways as there are to drink
coffee, there are even more ways to brew said coffee. And as many ways
ourselves to highlight some of our favorite lowcost/high quality coffee brewing apparatuses.
as there are to brew coffee, there
Before we get too far in, we need to talk about
culture, we have learned to settle. We happily
for our bad coffee as the brewing methods.
are a staggering number of ways to ruin it. As a drink burnt, boring, dark roasted coffee that s flavor is dictated far more by the mediocre way
it is brewed than the effort that went into the roast. The culprit is the omnipresent drip style coffee pot. No device is more capable of taking
the rich and exciting flavors of coffee and
making it into a bland over-extracted pot of near boiling water. Perhaps the greatest irony with these mass produced pieces of crap is their price. For so much less we can make significantly better coffee. We ve taken it upon
grinding. Blade-grinders are as much to blame While cheap and cheerful, they are too
inconsistent in the chopping (not grind) of the beans for even extraction to occur. Burr
grinders certainly represent the better option,
but in a lot of cases their price can be
prohibitive. However, hand crank ceramic grinders are highly cost effective options. It is important to be aware that different brew
methods require different sizes of grounds, there is no blanket answer.
We decided to test a series of low-cost coffee
brewers and being the Mythbusters fans that we are, we thought we should apply something that vaguely resembles the Scientific Method.
We bought a pound of coffee and had the good folks at our local shop divide it up and grind it specifically for each of the machines. Though we have used all of these brewers many times
on our own and, as with all things, have developed our own way of doing it, we followed the best available directions we could find.
The classic on-demand brewing method is the
french press (course ground coffee). Arguably, the french press brews a very bold cup of coffee, its metal filter not trapping oils the same way that a paper filter does. The oil will give the coffee a lot more mouth feel than coffee The Aero-Press is a wonderful device that
brewed with a paper filter. When brewed with
than on your countertop. It uses fine-ground
little weak. It was watery, a little over-extracted
coffee through a thin paper filter (though metal
said, it was undoubtedly the easiest and fastest
seems like it belongs more in a doctor s office
the french-press, we found the coffee to be a
coffee. The plastic syringe forces the brewed
and had a very sharp, acidic flavor. That being
filters are available) using air pressure created
of the methods that we used.
a considerable amount of pressure forcing the
The Chemex (medium corse grind) filter is a
atmospheres typically associated with an
by a team of chemists (hence the name), the
said, the coffee it brews splits the difference
While the filter itself certainly plays a huge role,
standard brewed coffee (the end result is
just as important. Water temperature plays a
little bit of additional hot water to make it
between the coffee and the added water.
the traditional Aero-Press method was full
brewing methods, the ritual associated with the
mouth feel and left the strong flavor in your
popularity. When we brewed with the Chemex
by the user pressing down on it. While there is extraction, it is nowhere near the 9
favorite amongst coffee aficionados. Developed
industrial-strength espresso maker. With that
paper is often used in posh coffee houses.
between a shot of espresso and a cup of
the specifics of the pouring of the water are
similar to an Americano) and will often require a
huge factor as well as the weight ratios
readily palatable. We found the coffee made in
Perhaps more than any of the mentioned
bodied and very strong. It had a wonderful
Chemex is an essential part of the brewer s
mouth.
we found the process to be very slow. By the
complexity to the Aero-Press and closer to the flavor of espresso than regular coffee. Using
the Mokapot we were also able to extract a crema, something not possible with the other brewing methods discussed here.
time the coffee had passed through the filter, it was borderline tepid. This may be partially due to the fact that it is recommended you start with water around 190̊.
Dark horse option: Turkish coffee truly resides
in a realm of its own. That being said, it meets both our criteria in that it is cheap and nonstandard. When brewing Turkish coffee there is
no filtration whatsoever. You effectively heat
water with the finest conceivable grounds till it foams, but not boils. The coffee is thick and harsh, not recommended for the faith of heart.
In defense of the drip coffee pots, if you really
don t mind and are not interested in the additional work associated with all of the other devices we ve highlighted, then use a Mr.
Coffee. There is an element of craft and,
subsequently, margin for error inherent with all the listed brewers and if you aren t interested in a taking that chance, simply don t.
Consistency is something that a drip coffee pot absolutely has over our picks, and while that is Another favorite is the Bialetti Mokapot. The Mokapot is a time-tested design which is similar to a percolator but uses divided compartments
to keep the coffee strong. Boiling water is pushed under pressure up through fine ground
coffee and is deposited into a top compartment where it can be easily poured into a cup. A Bialetti only needs a light cleaning after use and it is always advantageous to keep the place where the brewed coffee sits dirty because a
seasoned Bialetti tends to make better tasting coffee. We were impressed at the richness of
flavor the Mokapot produced. It was of similar
something we are happy to eschew, we will understand if you aren t.
Jorge Moreno Jr.
Ashleigh: First of all, my bag is never this clean. I usually am carrying the curriculum for whatever I am teaching and a tambourine. But the essentials that I always have with me are my cell phone, wallet, business cards, a few makeup things (which always includes a compact with a mirror), a clip on tuner (I always forget to switch it between instrument bags so I just carry it with me all the time), and a ďŹ nger puppet for ďŹ ghting road rage--it is hard to drive mad with that on your hand.
Brendan: I like to travel light so I keep a bare minimum of things on me at all times. Usually I ll have my MacBook, a power adapter, two Fisher Space Pens (my favorite!),a paper notebook, sunglasses, headphones, a soft cloth for cleaning, a USB key, a book to read and my trusty cellular telephone.
Spencer: Obviously I m a very serious and business oriented person. Subsequently, my bag is filled with an ever changing collection of: beanies (to keep my head warm), a very mature pedometer (PokéWalker), notebooks (for doodles), pencils/pens (also for doodles), comics, computer and power supply, para-cord (just in case), dice of all types (for dungeon crawling, or teaching math) and ear protection (because I don t want to be deaf).
The Atom Editors suggest the following for your bag: - A snack! - Lock picks - Gum/mints (for make-y out-y times) - Headphones - Tea bags (so you can have tea any time!) - A Leatherman or any equivalent - A sweater - Advil or Tylenol - Krazy Glue - Handkerchief - A paperback book
What’s in Your Bag?
James Dean and Marlon Brando made the t-shirt popular...
De Martini of Globe Canvas brought us the messenger bag...
•Evozip combined the two•
+ (Bag)
=
(T.Shirt)
(Evozip)
•Interchangeable: Every bag fits every skin •Recycled: Skins made from t-shirts found at thrift-stores •Open Source: Instructions available online Buy bags and skins at evozip.com Join us at facebook.com/evozip
Bingo at 7, Bed at 8
The Life and Times of an Aspiring Grandma By Kyla McCracken
T
here's something I've been struggling with for quite some time now. It all stems from one simple question: Does anyone out there really know where the flap they're going? In life, I mean. Like, at all? It would bring me much-needed comfort (followed, I suppose, by crippling anxiety) to know that everybody else in the world is just sort of winging it, too. The thing is, I've reached this Crisis Point in my life. That sounds really severe and dramatic given the actual situation, but I don't really know how else to describe it. Calling this a "Turning Point" makes it seem like until just now I've been going in one direction and now have some sort of other ideas or plans in mind that I'm pursing instead, which I totally don't. And Crossroads sounds completely ridiculous, thanks to the 2002 Britney Spears disasterpiece. Isn't there a nice, poetic euphemism for having absolutely no idea what the fuck you're doing? I'm certainly not "Exploring My Options," because I have none. Nor do I feel that I'm quite ready to be "Reinventing Myself." I mostly just feel like I'm "Floundering." It's been two very quick years since I received my undergraduate diploma, and now it sits framed in my room, laughing at me every time I write another heart-rending check to Sallie Mae. In 2009 I convinced myself I was just going to "figure stuff out" and "have fun" for a little bit, before I settled into a professionallady career, and now I find myself regularly calling my mother in a panic over my lack of direction. She tries to be encouraging, listing my post-collegiate accomplishments as proof that I'm not the worst ever, and somehow ends up unintentionally shaming me like WAY worse than that $200,000 piece of paper on the wall. "But you bought a BIKE!! You live in an APARTMENT!! You do your own LAUNDRY!! You're GREAT!!" I mean, sure I haven't eaten a whole box of cereal for dinner in a while, and I managed not to kill my roommate s cat while she was out of town, but I also peed my pants last month. More than once. This doesn't really illustrate what I mean, but it feels really good to get that off my chest. Back to the arrival at Crisis Point: I went to this fancy schmancy East Coast college where they literally tell you that as long as your resume bears this particular school's name, you can have any job you want, anytime. This is obviously the truth because I work full-time in a
restaurant. But say, for example, I want to be the head writer for SNL. My advisors made it seem like I'd just have to walk in to 30 Rockefeller plaza, collectively give the security guys the finger, and show Seth Meyers my infallible degree. He would then burst immediately into flames, making me his successor. I'm pretty sure all of this is in the Bible, so it seemed accurate at the time. Anyway, I decided that since I'd already been accepted to the magical University of Job Security, I was free to make myself otherwise as useless as possible in the Real World American Workforce by studying Theater. And just to hinge my bets on being unemployed, underpaid, and/or misunderstood by everyone around me all the time, I minored in Childhood Education. So NOW what I do is I basically invent a thousand different career paths per diem (that's Latin for "on the reg") and pursue none of them. For example, this morning I was like, "I should design and create a line of fashionable, multipurpose bike clothing so that you can have a padded seat in your shorts while you ride and also go out to lunch not looking ridiculous. I have a sewing machine that I can barely use so I could totally do that." And then an hour later I was reading this article where the author said "their" when she meant "there" and I said, "Goddamn it all!! Grammatical errors get me so worked up! I should be an editor. I should write a letter to this very magazine demanding a job editing their stupid articles. Even if they're not looking for someone to work over there at their establishment, my services are obviously needed." And by editing I think I really meant proofreading. And I pictured myself doing it while wearing a green visor and chain smoking in a dimly lit room. And I was probably using an adding machine with a big crank on the side. I'm pretty sure I was mixing together several outdated job stereotypes, and I don't even smoke, but the intention was REAL for the whole three minutes I thought about it. In the last month (okay, the last week) I've also decided I should create a vegan cooking show, open a co-op preschool, start busking full-time on the subway with my ukulele, grow and sell a milder strain of marijuana to aging hippies, become a graffiti muralist, marry rich and be a housewife, train as one of those body-painted humanstatue people, and also sell all my worldly
possessions and move to South America and be a nomad. Or maybe Thailand. Or New Zealand. So I constantly have all these awesome half-baked ideas that I can't seem to combine in any way into some kind of a sustainable, fully-baked idea. I start to panic, feeling like I don't know what I want to do, or even how to figure out what I want to do. And if I ever figure it out maybe I wont even know how to begin doing that thing, or maybe by that time it'll be too late and the world will have reached it's quota of body-painted ukulele players who edit magazines and I'll be totally shit-out-ofluck and have to start back at square one. Or worse, square zero, depending on how you look at it. And if I don't know WHAT I am, do I even know WHO I am? Holy crap, that's terrifying. This Crisis Point just became an Existential Crisis Point about being at a Crisis Point and that is WAY too freaking meta for me to deal with right now. Does anyone else feel this way!? There really is only one thing that I know for sure about who I am, and it's taken great deal of deep self-reflection over a long period of time to accept and admit the truth. My name is Kyla McCracken, I'm an unmarried, 24-year-old mother of zero, and I'm a Grandma. I'm more of a Grams, not quite a Granny. I dislike loud music and uppity teenagers, and I don't own a television because I don't really understand how it works and therefore don't trust it. I really enjoy crocheting and cooking big pots of soup in my free time. When I cook I do so as though I have a husband and nine children plus some stray neighborhood kids to feed. As such, I regularly guilt my roommates into eating with me, and refuse to accept that they are "full" or "just ate" or "have other plans." They must eat, because they are growing kids and they are skin and bones. I watch to make sure plates are clean. I don't hear very well, but refuse to admit this or do anything about it, and rather than constantly hollering, "What?? Talk into my good ear!! NO!!! MY GOOD EAR!!!" I just nod along placidly to whatever I'm being told, then later deny having agreed to anything. I have a collection of porcelain bird figurines, I shout out answers to Jeopardy with a 40% accuracy rate, and have an ointment that I rub on my hips because they act up from time to time. I save and reuse ziplock bags, quietly judge everyone on the bus, fear the microwave, and straight up lie to cashiers at the grocery store
just to save 50 cents on frozen peas. I mysteriously found a fistful of butterscotch candies in my purse the other day. I love talk radio. My hair is falling out. I draw the line at storing kleenexes in my sleeves, but that's mainly because I prefer to go sleeveless and have an embroidered handkerchief instead. It's just like the Magic 8-Ball says, "All Signs Point to Grandma." So where do I go from here? If this is my back page of Oprah magazine, my ONE thing I know for sure, shouldn't I run with it? I feel I would be remiss if I passed up this opportunity to turn my geriatric tendencies into a valid career path. I mean, this is America, isn't it? Why can't this be MY American Dream? I could knit sweaters as my contribution to Social Security. I can take the stairs one at a time to support lower emissions standards. I'm willing to take fiber AND calcium supplements if that's what it takes to prove my dedication to this cause! Everyone's always up in arms about the economy, isn't this an untapped resource? With a fresh surplus of grannies abandoning the convenience of the internet to do everything, think of all the things that have become passe that would suddenly sell like hotcakes! Stamps, bank bonds, JFK memorabilia, photo albums, calendars, jigsaw puzzles, home spa foot tubs, film processing, pet taxidermy, cribbage boards--I'm just brainstorming here! Forget babysitters, there is literally nothing a Grandma like myself loves more than a big fat baby and an unsupervised afternoon. That sounds risque, but what I mean is that if parents didn't have to blow so much cash on greedy teenaged caretakers, they could spend more out on those "date nights" and BOOM! What recession? A strange Indian man once told me, in what I believe was a vague misquote of Anthony Hopkins in Meet Joe Black, "When lightning strikes, you must dance like a dervish." It doesn't really make any sense, but it also sounds really deep. In fact, that might just be all the justification I need to move to Florida, make a cup of tea, and start keeping all the frisbees that my neighbor's goddamn kids throw into my yard. Now, who's with me?
Jorge Moreno Jr.
Jorge Moreno Jr.
Object/ Subject
C
three-story cement staircase, we enter our room, slip out of our coats, and eat a cold dinner of bread, fingerling potatoes and dry gin.
By Jayinee Basu
A Prince
ement Cities
When I first spoke to you between the shelves
Clouds marble the grey night.
of our high-school library, I thought you were foreign.
Are you Russian?
No, you said, grinning. I am from here. My
The electricity crackles through a wind-blown
parents are Dutch and German.
The sky looks like the interior of a massive
There seemed something too vertical and urban
connections between swollen neurons. The
No, you said, I was born in a small hospital
chink in the curtain.
brain, spider lightning creating instant
Then you must have grown up in a big city?
about the way your hair fell over your eyes.
earth is thinking.
two miles away and have lived in this town all
wide open. You look at me as if you have never
Then how to explain all that you seem to know
You awake suddenly and turn to me, your eyes seen me before.
Do you know that you re beautiful? you ask
me.
I stare blankly.
my life.
that others cannot see? You smiled your tinygapped smile and made a violent motion of smashing your head against something hard.
Foreign accent syndrome. It s the only
We live in a cement city. The cement buildings
neurological oddity that can be called chic .
silver-green potted olive trees sway with a dull
and quickly looked down at the marled carpet.
grow from the cement ground, and even the cement shine. Sometimes we look out the
glassmetal windows of the seminary to see a
pigeon flutter onto the sidewalk. Then only its
greenish pink shining throat is visible through
I glanced at your blue eyes for a split second
You remind me of Prince Myshkin, I said. Who is he?
Dostoyevsky s Idiot, a character in a book I
the grey.
read a long time ago. He is kind and epileptic
When the giant mesh-speakers toll eight
grandfather s copy he has fair hair and blue
o clock, I do not move to get up for dinner. Instead I wait by the window and watch the blue woolen flood of students pour through the
doors of the three buildings. I look for your curly blonde head in the mass of dark blue coats and find you pushing through the door of the Metaphysics building toward the
and incongruous̶on the cover of my eyes and a golden scruff just like you.
We both breathed for a while. I am epileptic, you said.
What? Really? No you re not! That would be
too strange!
Why did I not believe you?
Ontological west wing where I sit and watch. I
Lamotrigine
a pack of cigarettes and kiss me tightly on the
When you were young, you saw specters in the
detergent and cigarettes. We walk past the
Once in a swimming pool, you rotated to the
grab my coat and head out to you. You toss me
mouth. You smell like soap and laundry
cubic fountain that regulates the irrigation of the seminary orchard and head back to our
apartment three streets over. Exhausted by the
weight of education and the long trek up the
air that froze you; your eyes glistened wetly.
left in a small circle and did not answer your uncle s calls.
These ghosts soon shook you, took you by
erupting and I think that Welsh guy upstairs is
and thrust you into your own electrical storm.
̶frantically trying to pick the lock with tiny
force into the densest night without a flashlight You could smell them coming and your skin whitened in fear.
Small cream-colored pills in the shape of a shield; such little fury things that make up your
mornings and nights. You are allowed these to keep your mind. To lose your mind is illegal even if you choose.
Three years and some months after that day in the library, the scorched land of Sudan burst again into the flames of civil war. Again the horsemen did ride with their red scarves
blowing in the wind while black bodies piled up in the desert and the thirsty sand drank up their blood and tears. We protested this new genocide, a group of students self-caged on
the vast seminary lawn by chicken-wire. You
clogging again and then I realize̶
pins, walking in circles through piles of buried
shirts and combat boots and hearing your
muffled groans sob through the linoleum and I want to open your airways but I can't see̶
̶a slice of your face under the door crack̶ the fan whirring like a chopper̶
̶yellowish light flooding flashes of your red wet mouth,
elbows crooked̶
̶joints crammed into the cupboards̶ while I whisper cheek to carpet:
you're okay, you're okay, you're okay.
You emerge through the door like you ve been
pulled out of an icy bath, blue eyes turned
black. You look at me as if you ve never seen me before.
Where am I?
and I awoke at dawn and crossed the fence
We lie down and hold each other under the
was a perfect rose, all clean. My mind raced,
you gather the china shards of your memories
together, huddled in our sleeping bags. The sky eyes buzzing like a thousand invisible bees. You turned to me and said,
I feel like sea mist, pale and inconsequential.
For fourteen years I have existed as a tarnished penny. I would like to love you through the
spider lightning now, fight through it myself.
itchy covers of our metal-framed futon while back into a vessel.
In our apartment, baby. You just had a seizure.
Your face wrinkles into a child-like sorrow as you bury it in my chest.
I hate it. I hate it. I ve hated it since I was six. I know, my love,
I say quietly, not knowing
For you.
what else to say. Some ants crawl by dizzily on
pills after that.
moonlight. I stroke your hair as the refrigerator
That was a month ago. You stopped taking your
Clonic Mantra You awake again in a shudder drenched in sweat. I am thinking about the word beautiful.
The bed is soaked with your perspiration and I wonder what could ve disturbed your dreams. Are you alright? You re sweating a lot.
Your head moves slowly from side to side, mouth ajar. Do you smell that? you ask.
the whitewashed walls, illuminated by the hums in the dark.
Will you start taking your pills again? I ask.
Sighing as you begin to sink into a dreamless sleep, you say,
I don t know. But tomorrow I need to show you
something that you have never seen before. Bus Windows
Get up! The next morning you kiss my neck
I sniff but only smell the yeasty scent of your
and muss the covers from my body until I
You stand up in one swift motion and flip on the
now if we are to return in time for morning
skin. No, what do̶
bathroom light and fan and shut the door. The lock clicks.
That moment when your limbs hit the floor like
shampoo bottles falling on cold tub, violence
shiver to full consciousness.
We must leave
class.
It is much too early. I sit up and stretch into
long micro-fiber socks and a grey thermal.
Within five minutes I am fully awake. As our austere forms walk, heads bent, toward the
bus-stop, my mind sharpens itself, axe-like, on
We pass a house that wants to grow arms and
the door, a red mouth and blackened irises
maybe run away somewhere with less houses.
the coldness of the morning frost. A crack of
come back to me from last night. A strange night, to be sure. I am hoping for some answers.
Where are we going? I ask.
You merely smile in return and squint toward
the approaching shape of the city bus. It screeches to a slowing halt. We climb on,
legs and choke out the growing dandelions, We pass a house that is not a house, it is a box.
We pass a house that is a tree, we pass a tree that is a tree, we pass a tree. Suddenly there are trees.
The bus screeches to a slow halt. End of the line.
flashing the mirror-eyed driver our passes.
Earthquake
popped into a loony bin. Passengers, leather
The cement ends here and dirt begins. I look to
Only ten minutes passed since the empty bus is faced and old, drowsy, for their working day is
beginning without desire. The sensitivity in
you in confusion.
Where are we? I ve never been here before.
everyone's eyes!
You motion to the clumps of dark green
oilslick voice, Hey, it s not an easy livin makin
of the sloping mountain.
A blueblack man turns to me and growls in his insecticide and god knows it ain t fun but it does keep the insects away.
growing solidly like giant broccolis at the base That way is the forest.
A forest? A real forest?
Steel cranes like praying mantises fold and
You take my hand. A pale purple cloud floats
Bank buildings rise from the ground, so do
moody shade. I notice old unused power lines
unfold their sharp limbs as they build buildings. investment buildings and buildings where sick people lie in metal cots, waiting to get well until they can, once again, push through the
revolving doors of bank buildings and investment buildings and buildings where sick people lie in metal cots.
over the morning sun and casts the earth in a
dipping over the forest. As we walk toward that city of trees, I sense a shift in the earth: an
infinitesimal movement in the tectonic plates,
the leftover impact of the Big Bang. And a curious joy overtakes me.
Windows like picture frames hold the strangest
Whale Song
along.
From deep in the forest, I hear a wail that
Houses
stand on end like porcupine quills. The voice
family portrait of strangers who drop fly-like
Soon you and I are the only ones who remain.
The bus jumps and jerks more insistently as the ground below us changes from smooth black
pitch to a potholed map of neighborhood tragedies. The houses are smaller, the weeds are taller.
We pass a house where the entire family sits
naked, cross-legged inside a blue plastic kiddie pool.
We pass a house where two English pointers stand trapped, their tails linked by Chinese handcuffs.
We pass a house under a single dark cloud and I wonder if that family has ever been cheerful.
makes the soft hairs at the back of my neck
quavers at a note for several seconds and moves to a strange tone I didn t know existed,
charging the air with electricity. It is the voice of
a whale song, a voice of centuries past, a voice that splinters the silent forest into a million pieces of dark green glass. As we get closer to
the sound, I realize that it is more than one voice. A collective wail rises and falls like ocean tides, and I can discern the male and female components. At least I think I can. I clutch your hand tightly, not in fear, but something close to that. You do not say anything but move forward into the black trees.
D
ressed in a distinctly modern
The Young Man recalled the night before when,
Man waited atop a platform for the
of alcohol, his main concern was that he had
business casual outfit, The Young incoming train. As he looked down at
his textured corduroy pants he wondered
whether he had or not he had veered too far from the business side into the realm of the casual . His only suit was far too dirty to wear
in any reasonable fashion. It too recognizably bore the familiar sights and smells of indulgent festivities within its fibers; the musky,
antiquated perfume of smoked out rooms, the
pungent sweetness of cheap gallery opening wine, the pheromone laden tandoori smell of
sweat and the sickly spittle of inane conversation and poor decisions. Not unlike its
bearer, it was wrinkled and loosened in fit from
the ravages of time, a symbol of a vastly different lifestyle than indicated. As it was, the suit now resided in his closet, atop a great
mound of putrefying laundry, wondering when the fortnight s cleaning would come and save it from its cramped and smelly conditions.
The train pulled up to a squealing halt before
he stepped through it s parting doors and sat down next to a very tired looking man. A bag of pistachios peeked out of the side shoulder bag
the Young Man had slung over his right arm.
Over the course of the past week, he had replaced the blossoming nuts with their bleached white shells, allowing the girth of the
bag to remain similar while the weight changed
dramatically. Reaching in, he found the bag slightly open already and noticed a heaviness comparable to full capacity. As he grabbed a handful in starved anticipation, he noticed the
heavy coldness of the snack. Looking into his
palm, he saw scattered shells amidst the familiar gleam of hard currency. But there were
no nuts. Picking out the nickels and dimes, he realized they must have rained into the bag
absentmindedly throughout the week, turning
his bag of pistachios into a self-filling slot
machine. He scoffed at the notion that, earlier in the day, he had desperately needed money yet he had enough food; however now, he found himself in an inversely frustrating position.
upon purging his stomach of copious amounts lost the sustenance of two previous meals, an
expense he was unable to re-accommodate. His teeth chattered from hunger as he decided to redirect his mind, pulling out his E-Tablet
contained within a slick polymer folder. Unsheathing the stylus, he began plugging
away at the device. He took a deep, permeating
breath before opening his calendar interface
and organizing his busy schedule. Appointments, meetings, trips to offices and thoroughly lit financial firms; whatever form
they took, they all promised vaguely to add up to work. The daily concept of creeping
destitution was enough to keep him moving. The Young Man knew he had his work cut out for him but he began to watch a video his friend had sent him instead.
The Tired Man sitting next to him was staring
down at his E-Tablet, sneaking glances with dry, bulbous eyes that resembled worn lottery balls
protruding from his sockets. The Young Man
looked up to peek at the man who, at the slightest indication of movement, would turn his head evasively forward and give it a sorrowful
shake. The boy assumed he had something else
on his mind. Probably his vast family Polish
family or his tireless blue-collar job or the money he gave his bookie for the next Jets
game. Whatever it was, he knew that the man would go home and be able to approach it. With
a life as routine as he imagined the man s to be,
problems are easily approached and maybe even solved, simply because his life was simple.
There were no Bohemian parties to speak of, no drugs, no exuberant leeches, malnutrition or tangible drama on his horizon. Even the heavy jowls and scruffy silver stubble indicated a very different, almost enviable existence to him. And
though the Young Man s life was riveting and
wholly transient in its daily progression, he
envied the focus that must come with a life of consistency.
Considering his lifestyle, it made sense that he would enjoy the Subway, as it was the only place and time he could maintain movement in
was to embody the New York lifestyle despite inconsiderable means.
a wholly static state. The other reason he
As he arrived at his stop, he noticed the
natural strain of his part-time vocation. With his
vein-etched lids, indicating an early stage of
enjoyed the subway, however, was due to the
current job at Green Daze, a middle level Marijuana Delivery Service, he was almost
required to be on call, receiving dozens of
requests a day from total strangers. Underground, he was temporarily relieved of the invasive onslaught of calls but only until he stepped back onto the New York City streets.
He only took the job because his design partner
needed some money for their amateur graphic design firm and the Young Man was truly
desperate. Little did he know of the nature of New York Delivery Services and the high level of patience required. At first, he saw it as a good way to meet people and to enjoy work
fluttering eyes of The Tired Man underneath his
sleep. The Young Man tried not to wake the
Tired Man as he gathered his belongings into his sleek shoulder bag. However, as he did so, the pistachio bag of coins spilled out over the
seat. He collected the prized coins and left the
crumpled bag on the bench seat as the doors slid open to his Midtown destination. As he passed through the pneumatic doors, a reeking body scraped up against him as it made its way
out onto the platform. The Young Man assumed
it was a vagrant until he saw the perplexing object clamped between his spidery fingers: a Tony Robbins book.
variety until his cognizance of the natural risks
The Young Man ascended the concrete stairs
full allowance of the job to consume his life. At
his shoes fitting snugly into the sunken centers
began to develop. Soon, it required of him the
this point, he wanted out not because of the danger but simply because of the desire for
p r i v a c y, t h e d e s i r e f o r n o n - m a n d a t o r y socialization.
Taking on as many opportunities as possible,
the hustle for work had proven to drain his bank account and, consequently, his stomach. In a city of rapid and inevitably fleeting
successes, he found himself working overtime trying to piece together a living. All his interactions, as inherently social as they were,
were all tainted by the nagging, vapid notion of networking , a notion that pulled at his pant
sleeve like a coddled child. Every party had begun to feel like a game of Indian to him, with
of the subway exit onto the street, the soles of
of each step, worn through from countless decades of morning commutes. Within seconds
of reaching ground level, his phone vibrated
with what felt like an absurd number of missed calls. If the ghost calls were from whom he expected they were from, there d be no
messages. As he slid his phone out of his front
pocket, he felt a vibration of an incoming call.
As the nature of the business required equal
levels of trust and anonymity, the calls were listed as Private or Unlisted numbers, usually coming from cloned or disposable cell phones.
Though he never knew exactly who was calling him, the mystery numbers gave everything away.
each person s intentions openly displayed like
He answered the phone with a professional
seemingly obvious to everybody but
vocation. The recognizable yet unannounced
cards atop their foreheads, all their intentions themselves. Through personal growth and
general world knowledge, his Holden Caulfield
pretensions about the nature of this
phenomenon had long since dissolved, leaving
only the relatable concept of necessity as excuse. He knew that this was simply how things worked in the city. The most fatal and consequential imperative for his acquaintances
composure usually reserved for a very different
voice on the other end instructed him to go to 314 56th St. and 12th Ave. for a pickup and
then to 42 77th St and 2nd Ave. for a delivery.
The Young Man reminded his boss that he was off duty, not mentioning the interview he was to
have in a half hour. The voice responded, reminding him with feigned affection that he s
never off duty. Begrudgingly, he agreed to fulfill
his obligation to the voice. He continued
the password to his voicemail and listened to
office where he was to explore a possible
informing him that he had been accepted into
walking at a brisk pace to the silver paneled employment opportunity.
Minutes later, he found himself sitting in the lobby of Atherton Media, a marketing firm specializing in youth oriented campaigns. To
pass time, he absentmindedly sifted through his portfolio, gazing at his all too familiar
handiwork. Minimal duo-chromatic logos and
banners, astutely manipulated photos and cleverly disguised ads lined the pages. Each
one had been co-opted by him with a different intent than when they were produced, meant to reflect his own individuality instead of the initial
individuality of each uniquely uniformed company for which they were made. He was ushered into an empty conference room by a
business pretty assistant, her looks enticing
enough to clients yet standard enough to be ultimately forgettable.
After several moments, an interviewer, no more than a few months older than the man himself,
strode in and shook his hand. Sitting down, the
interviewer spoke about the company, namely its purportedly unique ethos and the qualities that separated it from all other agencies. The
Young Man s phone received numerous calls throughout the monologue, each one burrowing
deeper through his patience as he feigned interest. The inevitable
sell
followed the
speech, at which point the Young Man began to recite his
vocal cover letter , a well-acted
address as meticulously revised and rehearsed as the interviewers .
After having left the interview in a decidedly neutral state, he fulfilled his obligations to his current employers before heading back home
to the Lower East Side. On his way up the stairs, he received yet another call from a Private number and, despite his availability,
decided to simply ignore it. Walking into his studio apartment, he stripped off his clothes
and jumped in the shower to rinse the sediment of the city off his back. Drying his body as he
came out, he noticed the message indicator on his phone was lit up. Picking it up, he plugged in
the message. It was from Atherton Media,
their graphic design department and that, if he was interested, he should respond in no less
than 24 hours or they will move on to other
applicants. He sighed and dialed the corresponding number. Before pressing send,
he stood frozen for a moment in consideration. Tossing the phone with the incomplete call onto his chair, he pulled out his device and decided to watch a video his friend had sent to him.
Featured Artist:
Claudio Rodriguez Valdes
I
The God of Dreams am an award winning and published artist based in Darmstadt, Germany. I am mostly self taught
although I have had some guidance from some of the best artists out there. I work mostly in digital medium and absolutely love how exible I am with it.
My work has been greatly inuenced by animated ďŹ lms and comic strips but also by artists with an unique approach of imaginative character creation such as Michael Kutsche, Bobby Chiu, Jason Seiler, Stephen Silver and many more.
I truly believe hard work is the key to success and even though I don t consider myself a successful artist, I
believe hard work will take me there eventually. I believe art should be more accessible to everyone and that is why my art tries to be unpretentious. I like writing little stories before I start illustrating as it gives me a
clearer view of the characters that I am designing. The stories that I write are normally incomplete and the
illustration is open to interpretation, as there is nothing more satisfying than to read all the comments people send telling their own personal story.
The Old Woman s Pet
Beauty and the Beast Re-imagined The Little Mermaid Re-Imagined is an illustration about an alien that wants to become an astronauts
friend but fearing rejection the alien decided to build himself a suit similar to the astronauts, unfortunately by the time the alien comes back with the suit the astronaut is already dead...
The God of Dreams is an illustration explaining how dreams are delivered house by house by a God and a
group of God helpers... I have my own story of why those things happen the way they happen, why the God looks the way it looks but that is my own personal story... everyone is allowed to create a story.
The Present is an illustration about the relationship between an old lady and a creature that might be a friend, a pet or just part of the old woman s imagination.
My latest illustration is still incomplete and it is based on the Beauty and the Beast, although it is not clear which of both is the beast.
The Little Mermaid Re-imagined
Jorge Moreno Jr.
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