Letters from Bummer Camp #3

LETTERS FROM BUMMER CAMP #3

Editor’s letter This may come as a shock to some of you, but we're having some problems in our scene. There is a problem with misogyny. There is a problem with sexual violence.

There is a problem with racism. These are things we need to be talking about. Boundaries need to be established so that people don't have to be prepared to get into physical fights defending their own honor at shows. Going to shows and connecting with the people in this community has been my #1 activity outside of school and work for the past 5 years, and I've watched things change while a lot of these problems stayed the same. Back then I didn't feel that I had a say, a voice to use to speak out. Turns out I do, and I'm ready to use it.

As long as someone feels unsafe in this community, we are doing something wrong. There are so many people standing next to you at shows and passing you on the street on the way to a show, who have been hurt and assaulted by someone they thought they could trust because they met them from going to shows. So many of these people- these women and queers- your coworkers, friends, neighbors and classmates- are in a position where they feel they cannot speak up for themselves, when in reality they should be the ones talking the loudest. They should be the ones yelling into the microphone, running the shows, organizing events.

We're in a fucking basement. How have we let patriarchal values trickle down here? It's bad enough that we have to deal with this at our jobs- most often at corporate businesses- where we can be harassed by our coworkers or managers without consequences, because it is done in such a casual way that doesn't cross the line into punishable offenses by company standards. A basement is not a fucking corporation with spotty policies. There is no rulebook so you need to stick by your convictions.

Let me tell you a little story- this past summer at my job, everyone had to take an anti-harassment assessment.

This was an online quiz that we were required to complete on the clock. We got paid to do this. I had nothing to complain about. In fact, it was kind of a relief knowing that everyone, including the managers had to do it. Not everyone felt this way. I had to listen to two male managers complain about how long it took them to complete it, straight up whining about it. Out of all the tedious corporate bullshit we deal with every day, this is what they decided to whine about. Grown men who I work for, whining to my face as if it was such a burden for them to be reminded that certain behavior shouldn't be tolerated in the workplace. Again this wasn't so much a test as it was a guided course.

The company didn't want anyone to fail. In fact it was designed in a way that you actually couldn't fail. It was like an open book quiz with the answers already bookmarked.

Here's the funny thing I noticed- This is how it works in real life. No one wants you to fail the real-life anti-harassment test. I am not being tough because I want to see anyone fuck up. But when I'm practically yelling the answers at you, why would you pretend not to hear them? I yell and lose my patience, because I want so badly to believe that the men in our lives, and the people who have been socialized as men, won't violate us. But unlike [workplace redacted] we are not required to do this. we do not owe it to you to teach you not to rape and not to be a shitty person. After enduring catcalls and street harassment on the way to work class or a show, do we really want to argue with our peers about certain language or behavior being not okay? No. Now, I know there are plenty of men around here who proudly call themselves feminists. Are you guys listening? Because don't think for a fucking second that you are remotely close to being off the hook. Here is your call to action: Watch your friends. Watch yourself. Watch the men you surround yourself with and remind them to watch themselves. This goes not just for cis men, but non-binary folks as well who benefit from the same social advantages that men do. Spend less time telling people how socially conscious you are and put it into fucking practice.

Call out your friends when they fuck up. Don't tolerate rapists, misogynists, or racists in your social circle.

And most importantly, stop talking over us. We don't need to be told how feminism works. We can write the fucking book and that's without taking and graduate theory seminars. Stop taking up so much space and let us take the stage. When I first started going to shows here I was inspired by the women who were organizing and playing all these events. Now, I can't tell a fucking frat party from a basement show. Male feminists, I'm still talking to you. Sit the next few out. There are people in this community with a passion for art, music, and social justice. They are n ot looking for power. They are not looking to control. There is no room in this scene for the power hungry. Power and control are what we're trying so hard to fight against when we set up a basement show, or attend one. Please, put the torch down and give us our scene back.

-amr summer 2015 New Brunswick, NJ

-Dana Brady

CSA (Customer Service Associate) hi, how are you?

4pm // ask me if i graduated high school one more time if you aren’t 18, i feel you but you can’t buy cigarettes. it’s okay i’ve been there. do you want to bum one?

6pm // can i eat these expired hostess products the lottery depresses me it gets under my nails your wins aren’t worth ruining my fucking manicure 7pm // we need more red bull do you want a bag? sure thing.

8pm // just watched a man smoke cigarette butts in the ashtray outside please don’t hit on me please don’t hit on me “how old are you, baby? i can eat a whole pizza” i looked up the sexual predators in the area i wish i hadn’t

9pm // sold milk to rape in the 1st degree i drink a lot of free coffee.

20 pumps of caramel shot of espresso because i forgot my adderall 11pm// please don’t let me die here sitting on a crate of natty ice in the back cooler 12am// please don’t let me die here 1am // please don’t let me die here have a good one!

-Sarah Waldron

How to move to the city if all you know is the suburbs.

This summer I left my hometown for the first time. I mean, of course I’ve left it to travel and stuff, but I’ve never really lived outside of it. I went to college 20 minutes away from the house I grew up in. And I still live there now, with my parents and my youngest sister.

Partially because of this, I was itching to get out and try someplace new, but a little fear of the unknown kept creeping in. My younger sister–the middle child–she did it just fine. She went to school in a different state. I hate the whole birth order personality thing because if that were the case, then I, as the oldest, should’ve been the brave enterprising one who went out to try something new. I guess our town was a little small for my sister. But to me it’s home, and it’s the only size I ever really knew.

This summer I left home to work in Washington, DC. I’m writing this during my lunch break on my last day of work. I’ve been keeping a really detailed journal, as I always do. Journals help you keep your brain in order.

Anyway, I learned a lot while I’ve been here. And I thought I’d share it for all the other drifting souls out there, too scared to leave and too bored to stay.

1. This summer I learned a lot of adult stuff. Like, how to successfully navigate public transportation, how to buy and maintain a car (and get the oil changed all by myself), how to manage my own bank accounts and prescriptions. I flew on a plane to a wedding in Ohio. It was the first time I ever flew alone. I know this doesn’t sound like a lot, but I was scared of doing all this stuff by myself because I never had to do it alone before.

What made me anxious is that adults are supposed to easily know how to do all of this stuff, and I didn’t.

When you’re in a big city, it looks like everyone knows what to do. You learn a lot by watching people. You play it cool and you do as the Romans do, and then it’s done and you realize it wasn’t so scary in the first place and you’re just as capable as everyone else is.

2. I learned that home is a state of mind. Not everywhere can feel like home, no matter how hard you want it to.

But the place you lay your head can still be comfortable for you. It can still be a base, physically and spiritually.

You just have to keep an open mind and an open heart. You can bring little pieces from your home with you if you want, whether they’re objects or routines or just buying the same brands. It’s not that you should try to make a new place feel like home, because that’ll just remind you that it’s not actually home and make you feel worse if you’re the homesick type. The thing to do is make an entirely new place, a different place, that you can still feel safe and relaxed in. A place that feels like a home because it is a home, just another one. Different is not bad. It’s just different.

3. On the train you might feel like people are watching you. I don’t know, I’m like an animal or something. Like, I read non-contextual eye contact with strangers as a form of aggression. It’s not very reasonable, I know, but I always feel like everybody’s staring at me and judging me. They’re probably not. Everyone in the city is so hung up on their own shit that they probably don’t even fully notice other people, really. They’re not looking into your soul. They’re probably looking at your shirt or your hair or your tattoo, just a tiny part of you. And you know what?

If they are noticing you, and if they are judging you, then you can stare back at that sucker.

They’ll look away. Or you can move cars. Your lives intersect at this one point in time and they never will again. And you’ll be free. It’s a nice reminder, kind of, for how life is. Sometimes some bad, uncomfortable shit happens, and you can either sit through it for a short time, or you can make a tiny adjustment. But eventually, it will probably go away.

4. There are cool people everywhere. Maybe you think you won’t make any friends because either you won’t meet anyone or because you think no one will find you cool enough to hang out with. Maybe you find it hard to open up to the people you do know because you think they won’t be as cool as your friends from home and they won’t accept you. I don’t know. Making friends in new places… there’s a lot of variables there. And it is kinda scary.

Now I’m not gonna bullshit you and tell you how easy it is to make friends. I’m not gonna advise you to just strike up conversations with strangers. That worked for some of my college friends who could just find buddies in every class and organization and on the goddamn bus. It didn’t work for me. I met friends through other friends, and if I made new friends it was through being in the same situation, like work or some program or something. You have to know what works for you. (Of course, if you want, you can try something completely different to make new friends, but sometimes changing too much at once is overwhelming.) You know where you’ve found cool people in the past. Try to find that situation again, and put yourself in it.

You will find someone. There are cool people everywhere. Most people act normal and boring when you first meet them, but you will see them and they will see you, I promise.

Also, I’m not one for meeting people online or having dates set up with people I’ve never met in person before, but some people I know have a lot of success with shit like Tinder. It’s great for people new to an area because there are lots of folks in the same boat as you and I strongly recommend that you try it. Just download the app. It’s free, and if you hate it, you can delete it. (That’s what I did, but at least I tried it, right?)

5. When you move to a new place that’s completely unfamiliar to you, you might feel like there’s some kind of establishment routine you must conform to, like a checklist of things you have to do to settle yourself in. Like, you have to have met a certain amount of people by a certain date, or you have to have your ducks all in a row after X amount of days after moving in.

But this is bullshit. You have to do things at your own pace. And do what makes you feel comfortable. If you feel uncomfortable because you think you’re going slower than you should be, or things haven’t happened the way you want to, you have two choices: make a small change and try something new, or just ride it out.

Before you do that though, the first thing you should do is breathe and figure out what you need, not necessarily what you want.

Starting over in a new place takes a lot of planning, but consider the fact that planning and setting too many expectations can be a hindrance. It can feel like failure if you don’t meet some of those goals. So set the important stuff up first, like money and health and safety related crap, and let all the social and spiritual things fall into place. It’s not like school anymore where the social groups settle in by week two or three. This is grown-up life that doesn’t turn over once every semester, and you’re not on limited time. There’s time to come and go, and there’s time for other people to come and go, too. It’s unreasonable to base your own sense of success on what and how you see other people are doing.

Anyway, you gotta do you, and don’t let your own expectations –or anyone else’s–get in the way.

6. This whole time I’ve been telling you that you don’t have to go all out and throw yourself in full-extrovert mode when you move somewhere new, especially if moving to the city is a big change for you. I wasn’t used to buildings so tall or seeing so many of them. I wasn’t used to trains being underground. And I especially wasn’t used to walking everywhere, or people being all over the place. There are going to be a lot of unfamiliar, sometimes uncomfortable things.

But honestly, sometimes the best way to get over that is to wash yourself in it. Wash yourself in the unknown, sit with it, explore it, learn it. If you try something new, you may hate it. And if that’s the case then you can turn around and not do that again. At least you learned something. But if you try something new and you like it, then that’s good. Every place is different, and finding the differences between this place and your old home… it’s kind of fun.

I’ll be honest, after a while, things will stop being new, and then they will stop being fun, but the differences you see keep things fresh. Otherwise, this new place is going to feel like home but it won’t be home, and that to me is a deeply unsettling feeling.

So I guess I’ll wrap this up. But the short version of what I learned is that home is not one single place, that new things can be scary but you learn and you adjust, that places can change you in little ways inevitably and that’s okay, and that growing up is something everybody does at their own pace. I’m driving all the way back to North Carolina tomorrow, back to my family. North Carolina for me is a home, but now I have a home in DC too because I learned how to make one, and I’m glad I did.

-Carolyn Caggia

-MK RIX

The Aloof Age Lately I've noticed something that I dislike about myself which I hope other people can relate to. It is the way we treat romance in this technological age like it's a game of Stratego. It has never been, at least in my case, as simple as just liking a guy and texting him to say hello. Nope.

There are at least ten million steps before that which include panels of your friends and rough drafts, screenshots and nail biting while waiting for a response (all of this, of course, depending on the severity of the crush).

And god forbid you do something "wrong", you don't meticulously track the number of texts you sent versus how many you've received, then you've fallen down the black hole of "I blew it". Is this just a girl thing? I don't know, maybe to some extent but I also think it's a very human thing these days. It's the way we live. And it's driving me fucking crazy.

Who invented all of this pressure to be the person who cares the least? Who made these rules? Why do we let ourselves live like this? "Well, I asked him to hang out last time so I should wait for him to ask me to hang out this time, but last time we hooked up so does that mean it's my turn and if he didn't respond to my text but he DID like my Facebook post then does that mean he's still interested or should I wait to see what my friend thinks I should do before I hit send?" THAT kind of shit makes me want to go so far off the fucking grid that I end up waiting in some uncharted jungle while a group of natives decides upon the best way to cook me in a large person-sized pot.

Will he be there tonight? How can I find out and what should I wear and I have to screenshot this and send it to my friend and ask her to dissect it into a million pieces to find out how long it will take this guy to just start ignoring me.

We all do it, to whatever significant or insignificant degree.

And if you're sitting there thinking you're so cool because you NEVER do anything like this, then I guess good for you? But you probably do it, too.

But no more. I'm about to turn 25 and I've made the decision that I am no longer going to be a cog in the fucked up DOES-HE-LIKE-ME wheel. If I want to say something, I'm going to say it. If I want to text a guy then god damn it, I'm going to text him even if it means totally blowing my weeks of building up a nonchalant exterior. If I'm not feeling nonchalant then I'm not going to fake it. I'm too old and bitter and jaded to be anything but my old bitter jaded self.

Because boys will come and go and if I want to know if you'll be there on Thursday, I'm gonna text you and say "Hey, will you be there on Thursday?" The roof will not cave in, the sun will not super nova, I will continue to be exactly who I am because that will never change based on the response or non-response of a guy It's living dangerously, I know. But why not give it a shot.

And I am the most guilty of it, I do it all the time, almost like its a game. Like an app I downloaded. It would be called like, SocialLife or iSocial or Crushstagram or PleaseKillMeThereIsNoHope. I'm always wondering if I'm saying the right thing to whatever guy I've decided to be interested in that week. Am I saying/doing too much or not enough? Is he in control of the conversation or am I in control? Who has the upper hand?

-Kara DJ

-Laura Mar

I listened to a lot of Joni Mitchell & Rhianna before I wrote this I learned a long time ago that the term “community” would hang in the air like faint smoke, like that of incense burnt in a censer swung by priests in a town square. Sometimes it was thicker, like smoke off a cigarette caught in the sun’s rays, all indigo and feathery. Community. It has become a quest for something I lost long ago and only recently recalled having lost. It is a conversation that has been brought up time and time again in the past months. What does this word mean in the space we occupy in the time we occupy it? I read it as an extension of self, an interest beyond oneself and when I’ve felt its presence it has extended from others as a kindly aura. It has been represented acutely through dance and art, through weavings and songs, through festivals and fundraisers that feed the towns in which they’ve taken place. “Community” was a word that was used the morning a hurricane broke and my town gathered to shovel bodies out of mud.

I thought that this summer was a milder one from others, and shortly after feared that dissociative tendencies took root--no longer blooming to prove their threat. I would hear my friends discuss the word without explicitly mentioning it. I would hear it when they were sensitive to certain pronouns and the people they encompassed and not to others. At times this came from spaces of unknowing and exhaustion, but I’ve heard it from spaces of assumption, anger and self-defense too. Community. I’ve had experiences in the past with language where I follow words down a road of disillusion. I reject them because I find that they mimic a silent, condescending politeness towards a person. Words like: “preferred” and “female/malebodied.” Why do we still ask people how they would prefer us to refer to them as instead of asking them who they are? Why do we still refer to queer bodies as female and male. I mean to take no power away from those who compromise one of their selves in these spaces to reinforce another, especially at the cost of losing your access to a ‘community.’ To those who experience both a queer self in conjunction with either I praise the tender spaces in which you commit to both and experience the difficulties of maneuvering these avenues. If these are one and the same for you, or neither, I speak to you too.

We have embraced words of empowerment and used them against one another to create a silent violence.

We have used language without acknowledging the constructions and implications created with these words as they are spoken. We have maneuvered ourselves instead into the grey, neutral spaces of liminality where we pretend to cozy on up to one another but still go behind each other’s backs and tell each other half-truths. We are scared of hurting one another so we hide ourselves away from one another. My ‘community’ has used my identity to displace one another. My identity is mine to discuss.

I question ‘community’ when friends use this to assert themselves over one another. I question ‘community’ when I see it happen to others. I question why my ‘community’ calls me a bitch when they are not empowering me. We have competed against each other; conversation turned debate because those involved could not understand each other’s language and refused to compromise. We have spoken over one another or simply walked away.

We have censored our vulnerability. Instead we have replaced it with, “our scene/ friends/ generation/ group/...” Where are these things? Why do we turn to group experiences and close off individual voices?

This is not to diminish the impact, the power, or struggles of groups. This is not to take value away from communing with others. If we are attempting to discuss an intersectional setting in which we are ‘communing’ we need to evaluate our language and the methods with which we approach the topics we speak off. When we talk about building safe spaces, for whom are we building these spaces? Can we say these spaces are truly accessible, available, and representative of the groups they are supposedly built for? I have been contemplating what it means to be DFAB and DMAB. To be ‘designated’ as anything from birth, whether within our control to subvert these conditions as we experience them or as we attempt to attain the resources with which we assimilate and “pass,” is a stigma reinforced by our vernacular. It is a stigma expressed in our body language, in the dismissive glazed eyes and phrases with which we are all too comfortable speaking which pretend to express empathy. It is an pretension of experience shared and individual. It is a refusal to ask or even think about.

We should not attack the contradictions within us, when we can instead make these moments of growth.

We should not be afraid of hypocrisy within ourselves but be humble when we encounter it. Say that to yourself(ves) before you attempt to reach outside of yourself. Instead of ‘calling out,’ attempt to discuss.

This is so much more than patience. It’s about opening up a space for reflection and lucid communication of such. It’s about creating lines to read between when they’re not offered. There are experiences in which I found it is all too easy to do away with these beliefs. Experiences that warrant a stronger response; a reactive, raw energy to communicate or establish themselves as “worthy” of being heard. I do not feel a sense of community here, or at least I feel as though I do not belong to any. This is not judgement. There is a strength I have found in being alien. I have a beautiful, strong, dedicated, expansive group of friends.

We have much work yet to do. Not in creating a ‘community,’ but to challenge, question, read deeper into one another and open as many channels of communication within ourselves as well as amongst ourselves. *I experience a multiplicity within myself, each of the many me’s that express themselves at any given moment deserves as much agency as the other. There has always been a low-humming pressure in this town; I’ve felt it creeping in my shoulders, and I’ve heard it harmonizing with the buzz of transformers in the streets. I wonder how this hum has affected others, and whether they interact with it, or let it play as a private soundtrack. Sometimes I think that a choir of cicadas are my only protection from this hum.

-anonymous

BASEMENT SHOW SURVEY data collected from 45 anonymous online participants locations represented:

age range: 17 thru 30, median of 22.

               

gender identity    

female: 18 male: 14 eh/not applicable: 9 non-binary/trans: 4

race/ethnicity     

white: 36 latino: 3 south asian: 1 not white: 1 no answer: 4

Have you ever skipped out on a show because you knew someone would be there (playing or in attendance) that would make you feel uncomfortable, or unsafe?

31%

new brunswick, new jersey new jersey pennsylvania philadelphia/south jersey area brooklyn, new york long island, new york madison, wisconsin amherst, massachusettes indiana connecticut chicago, illinois maryland olympia, washington vermont providence, rhode island new paltz, new york

Have you ever skipped out on a show because the person booking/running it made you feel uncomfortable, or unsafe?

Yes

Yes 40%

No 69%

60%

No

Has the $$ recommended donation $$ for bands kept you from attending shows?

22% Yes

No

78%

!!! GUESS WHAT !!!

If a show is asking you to pay a donation for entry, this doesn’t mean you will be turned away if you have nothing in your pocket. However, if you arrive with a pack of beer and claim not to have anything to contribute, don’t be surprised if the host takes your beer as payment towards the touring bands.

If the above situation does not apply to you, you’re in luck! There are many ways to contribute to a show besides giving $5 at the door. Such as!!!           

Working door for the show Cleaning up before and/or after Making a flyer Distributing flyers Working sound Lending gear Bringing snacks Providing transportation for people who may need it Providing the traveling band with a place to stay Starting a band to play as the local opener Or you can book your own shows and find out just how much work goes into it!

Do you drink or use other substances at shows?

Yes

42% 58%

No

Does alcohol or drug use make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe at shows?

27% Yes No 73%

What don’t you like about basement shows? most popular responses include:               "When they go on for tooooo long. Four bands maximum should be a given. I'm interested in thoughtfully organized 2-3 band shows."

"Sometimes very few people show up. Those sparsely attended shows, usually on a week day or around an important date (Holiday or otherwise), are generally not worth a 15 person crowd. For bands and fans shows like that are bummers."

cliquey-ness, feeling left out not comfortable going alone too much of a "boys club" show spaces that claim to be safe but don't hold up moshing/violence/aggressiveness of men low ceilings/too cramped bad sound, insufficient sound equipment drunk/high people having to run into an abusive ex or past assaulter treating the show like a party shows that go on for too long/too many bands booked poor planning bands are uninspiring or all the same multiple shows booked in one night "A lot of bands don't write songs that are discernible from one another. Sometimes it's hard to "Unsafe environment for tell if a song even has a chorus women. Especially poc women or a hook. I feel like a lot of and trans women. Shows are people don't care about the craft male dominated and non of songwriting as much as they inclusive. " care about having an audience for whatever it is that they do"

"In my experience people will claim a space is safe, but it's not and I think alcohol and drug use can have a big impact on a lot of people feeling comfortable in a show space along with holding people in your community accountable for their actions, which I don't feel like I've seen enough of."

"drunk sweaty men with their shirts off, huge presence of men in general, too many straight people, masculinity, people not caring about abusers playing a show"

What would make you feel safer at shows? most popular responses include:

"If people respected each other's personal boundaries, that would be nice."

         

more people speaking up and calling out the bullshit kicking people out when necessary outing abusers and not letting them into shows less partying show runners being more welcoming to new people responsible hosts/show runners more women/queers playing and booking shows cater to queers/persons with disabilities/poc reliable bathrooms and spaces to go between sets start shows early

"Lights turned on when bands not playing"

"More vocal advocates. AND NO MORE SHAMING OF THE VOCAL ADVOCATES. I'm so tired of male friends talking shit about girlfriends who stick up for every person all the time.

The people actually say shit when they see shit; whether its a person that looks uncomfortable getting an up and down and a talking to from a stranger or people ganging up on someone (even if they think its in good fun) or having to angrily reinforce someone's preferred pronoun. I've never felt unsafe but I've definitely felt uncomfortable. But I can speak for myself, not everyone will or does or can. "

"if the people running shows took a clear stance on certain behaviors (moshing, drinking, drugs, etc). even in the stance is WE ARE OKAY WITH WHATEVER HAPPENS, at least then you know that going into the situation. I don't have a problem with drinking at shows but I think it is valuable to know in advance if a show is going to be sortof rowdy. also, some people booking shows have zero tolerance for sexual abusers so I can go to their shows confident that I'm supporting a good band. at houses where I don't know the booker or they have a bad track record, I am always skeptical of the bands and their character"

"If the people running the shows would see a new person come in, and go up to them and be like "hi! is this your first time here? Cool! how did you find out about the show? Oh hey this is my friend (blank) they are cool too etc etc etc". Maybe not sober shows but like, a generally understanding that some shit is not appropriate."

"Hosts keeping a better eye out for people being disrespectful, hosts staying present during all aspects of the show to handle any problems that may arise whether it be someone in the crowd making a problem or a technical issue or anything. Just knowing that the person who decided to host the show cares about what happens is important"

"There is nothing to be done, unfortunately. New Brunswick is a large city. I know a majority of the people who attend these shows, myself included.

For the most part, it's a good group of people when you find your place. However, it's impossible to sort out the bad apples. "

Troubling identity politics in “Fun Home�

So the Tonys happened and Fun Home won all the awards. Okay, not all of them but a lot of the big ones.

I haven't been to a Broadway show in years, so I can't say if the musical deserves all the acclaim. But if it tells the Alison Bechdel and her father's story as brilliantly as the graphic novel does, then yes, Fun Home deserves all the praise in the world.

Just to be clear, I will be referring to the narrator as Alison and to the author as Bechdel.

The graphic novel chronicles Alison's childhood in rural Pennsylvania and her college years.The book focuses on Alison and her father's relationship and how they deal with being queer and different from everyone else. Alison's father works as a high school English teacher and as a mortician at the town's funeral home, the titular fun home. Rather than telling the story in chronological order, Bechdel groups the events by theme, changing how events are perceived with each additional piece of information.

I found the portrait of the father to be absolutely fascinating. The book begins with the narrator describing her father and all the work he put into the house Alison grew up in. It shows his ingenuity, his artistry and his determination, but these qualities more often than not translate into thoughtlessness and stubbornness. Decorating the house allows him to express himself but he gets so wrapped up in his own self expression that he sometimes forgets about the people around him. I appreciate that he's not a perfect father, but he's not a monster either. As the book goes on and we learn more about him, we learn why he does the things he does (well, Alison gets pieces of information and speculates). Each bit of information engages the reader further and comes together as an excellent character study.

The book has lots of references to fiction from Sesame Street to Proust and the love of literature brings Alison and her father together. Some of the more classical works discussed in the book might I haven't read every thing that Bechdel alludes to, but I've read a fair few of them. She explains most of what she's talking about to the reader. I didn't find these explanations annoying for the stuff I have read and they were so helpful for the books I'm not as familiar with. Bechdel would have made a hell of a reviewer.

She made me want to pick up Earthly Paradise by Colette and convinced me to give Marcel Proust another shot. I'm willing to bet most people will be familiar with at least one work she talks about in detail, so you will feel smart reading Fun Home and maybe it'll help you decide what to read next!

I struggled to review this book not because I didn't have much to say, but because there's so much to talk about. Fun Home isn't very big, about 240 pages.

The parallels, the crossings and the deviations between Allison's life and her father's makes for a thematically rich book about gender, sexuality, family, culture, literature and so much more. I don't want to write a review of Fun Home. I want to write a freaking paper. I hope to see it on syllabi of many English courses alongside the works the book draws on.

I don't know if you can tell, but I loved the book. A lot.

But there was one tiny thing that bugged me. And if it was a small continuity error or a minor character that seemed a little flat, I probably wouldn't even bring it up. But the small thing made me feel that tiny sting of biphobia. Unlike a continuity error or flat characters, biphobia goes outside of the pages of a book and it very much a part of the real world.

Bisexuality isn't erased like in Fun Home like in other texts. Alison says that she knows that her father might be bisexual but she prefers to think of him as gay so that they have one more thing in common. That just felt like such a petty jab. Bisexual people are so alien to most queer monosexual folks, despite all our shared experiences. We are shunned from a community that we feel kinship with. So when Alison expressed that without softening he words with "I know it's petty, but this is how I feel" or something to that effect it made me remember that too a lot of people, I'm not queer enough for them.

But, I'm a big girl. I've enjoyed media that is far more hurtful and nowhere near as relatable and heartwrenching. I still connected with Alison as she discovered who she was through fiction, interviews and even dictionary definitions. The family tragicomic made me laugh and tugged at my heartstrings. This jumbled up bildungsroman reflected myself in showing the lives of others and I hope it can do the same for you.

-Abigail Gruchacz

Glasses I can still hear It, especially when the time comes to stare at the ceiling imagining minutes get faster or slower than reality There are never enough pillows to swallow the sounds from my ears And the ones that linger like hammers in my head

I hear the belly below the voice box belting the same tune just after the sweltering hot sessions of mid-June I see her clocked in white, swelled like to the max with life eyes closed listening with the intent for me to hear My Father’s melody, the hum laced in smooth silk from his lips, Low enough for me to hear and loud enough for me to kick

Sometimes the sound was as rhythmic as hop scotch On Sundays in the park And as gentle as firm hands on my body tipping me forward Against the air catered by a swing, echoing “daddy higher, higher�

Soon enough I learned my father was more than a singer Soon Daddy had more letters and syllables than “Sir” “Yes” and “What” Soon enough June was too hot for us to be in the same room The texture in his voice box changed folds Suddenly his dynamic would switch He’d call me a Bitch and swing until my glasses broke

I can still hear it, especially when the time comes to sleep There are never enough pillows

Black. listed What is Black?

Black Bears, Black Cats Darkness is black, because To be dark Is to shade into neutral value To be black Black then turns to seek definition or to accept submission having already been defined Shoes can be black, So can ice but your shiny black shoes can’t protect you from the slippery stains of black ice Under the pretty white snow, so tell your children to beware Of black streets that color will stains concrete Cause even trees look black in the light, mimicking a silhouette through the window during the day time sometimes the Black trees dance for you If you pay them enough attention You may see these beautiful black silhouetted leaves pirouette, from the black finger like twigs twirling vigorously with the wind Black Like these black ankles I have significantly darker than brown Like my black elbows and black knees And I barely notice until I’m tangled with the one I love And he’s white all over

Then I notice how black, is my black

Like my scribbles on random white pages in notebooks: Distant from each other in space and time, that speaks of my distorted truths Birthed from infectious lies that sound so good in my head But couldn’t come out and wouldn’t die in So my dark Black lies spin impurities Aching to the core defecating insecurities Vomiting intense feelings of love that I didn’t want to mean Because I am black Not like: Rainbows or birthday clowns Or skittle bags, or spring cardigans sweaters Or Martha’s Vineyard in July Black like old bibles in Catholic churches, Black headdresses on nuns Black like the blood of Jesus Christ on the third day Like suffering from sins craved from your first birthday

Black like no favorite color Black as the hair that grows from my roots, Roots

Black like the soil settled into the earth Trampled over by obnoxious color Black like ink stains on your pants That you kept close for when words danced or Spat from mouth Through black gums Before using your smoking tongue to kiss your lover Under this black like night Lit by balls of light to brighten tonight now I see this phrase with spite Everything is beautiful in a metaphor Except for black Converted catachresis that tells me my skin’s always under attack But it remains black Like my subconscious existence, convicted coalition

...To be dark is to be black and listed

-creepy gen

I have been incarcerated 6 times between 18 and 21 . The most recent was a one year sentence for leaving the state while on probation, stemming from a drug possession charge 4 years ago. When I was 16 and started smoking pot and dabbling with drugs and alcohol I never thought I would wind up strung out on the streets of New Jersey and wind up in a cell, but as dads everywhere say, "shit happens."

I exited Logan Hall in Newark at midnight on October 9th 2014 With $120 dollars and no fucking idea what to do with my life . The hardest part about adjusting to life back on the bricks is the constant slamming of doors. A menial job that the average person would take for granted becomes unattainable: you are a felon. Luckily for me my family housed me until I could save enough money to buy a car and move out, but some formerly incarcerated people don't have anywhere to go. Most of these wind up reoffending quite quickly and return to prison , the only place that they are able to function. It is a sick cycle set into motion by the state and often exacerbated by mental illness and a lack of adequate social services. As rates of heroin abuse in New Jersey skyrocket many people outside the traditional prison demographic are now finding themselves in the grip of a relentless system that never wants to give you up.

Since my release I have been working very hard in a lot of ways. It has been very hard to regain the trust of my family and friends but I have. I was able to land a well paying job (off the books, of course) and buy a vehicle.

Last month I signed the first lease I've ever been on. While I can attest to the power of self will and moving forward it is worth noting that without help from family and friends it is statistically almost impossible to "turn your life around" after multiple incarcerations. I can only hope that others who have been caught in the prison industrial complex can find a way to overcome.

Burn the fucking prisons to the ground.

-Corey Maccaro

Sleepwalker is an album meant to move you thru time. So when I listen to it I get flashbacks, I reassess my past, and I try to understand how I got to where I am now. Every track on the album contributes fully to this experience, standing out separately from each other as they weave in and out of the four corners that square off a year in the life of an introvert. It's like a game of cat's cradle—and New Brunswick’s own Long Beard tugs at the strings of your memories.

Smack dab in the middle of the record, the transition from one side to the other, I believe Suburban Sunset stands out as the most poignant track on the record. The choir of Leslie & Tom's voices paired with drawn-out windy guitar riffs convey a feeling of longing in a way that, I believe, can rarely be found in music today of this indie genre, or whatever you want to call it.

But if yr more into relating to the lyrical content of songs, then Hates the Party is for you. It is not necessarily wordier than the others, but tells a story in a more concrete way. Long Beard becomes that friend you wish you met freshman year of college, commiserating with you until deciding to ditch a boring kegger and climb the roof of a building to look at the tiny version of yr town below.

Just like Death Cab's Transatlanticism and Jimmy Eat World's Futures holds up for me personally, (and I would not hesitate to compare Long Beard's album to those two, both sonically and timelessness-y) I fully expect Sleepwalker to one day become the piece of yr record collection that you pick out when yr ready to reminisce, trying to relive a summer from yr past, trying to reshape a bad memory from a distant winter. Long Beard's songs serve as a catalyst in this way- like a foggy wind that lifts you off your feet, surrounding you in strange darkness that makes you think you're up in the clouds.

Sleepwalker is Long Beard’s first full-length album which will be released on Team Love Records October 17 on tape and October 23 on vinyl. In the meantime, listen to more tunes here: long-beard.bandcamp.com

-Alyssa Rorke

Go to www.nbshows.org

cover art by Rob Romano art on editor’s letter page,“The Answer To Your Problems”and back cover by Gian Camporeale photos on “Glasses” and “Black. listed” pages by creepy gen

Deliver questions/comments & rants/raves to lettersfrombummercamppress@gmail.com

www.spinarecords.com www.intheweststudio.com radcat.rocks