The Girlboss Issue

COMMENT What makes a Girlboss? Is it her obsession with skinning a bunch of spotted puppies?

Or is it her demonic nature covered up by designer brands? Maybe the ridiculously complex scheme to frame her husband for her own murder? Whatever the case may be, the Girlboss has been a figure of controversy and criticism ever since she stepped into the pop culture spotlight with her manipulative ways and her not-so-diverse cast of representatives. Avoid gaslight and step through the gates with Buzzsaw as we explore this complex and problematic character, the history that set her up as the underdog and the tools she used to shatter the glass ceiling.

Staff List: Managing Editor News & Views UPFRONT Ministry of Cool Prose & Cons Sawdust Seesaw Layout Art Website Editor Social Media Editor Photography & Section Dividers Copyediting Advisor Founders

Special Features: Have You Forgotten?

By Kevin Gyasi-Frempah (Page 6)

Julia Batista Rachael Powles Julia Dath Brennan Carney Greta Unetich Guadi Fanelli Sarah Borsari Joe Minissale Quinn Karlok Rachael Powles Adam Dee Carolyn Langer Julia Batista Brianna Tovar

Being the “G.O.A.T”

By Olivia Celenza (Page 11) The Hidden Stories of Powerful Women

By Navroop Kaur (Page 18) 10 signs you’ve Girlbossed too Close to The Sun

By Eliel Safran, Staff Writer (Page 67)

Joe Minissale Kevin Gyasi-Frempah

Write Us!

Carlos Figueroa Bryan Chambala Sam Costello Thom Denick Cole Louison

Our magazine exists to inspire thoughtful debate and open up the channels through which information is shared. Your comments and feedback are all a part of this process. Reach the editors by email at: buzzsawmag@gmail.com.

2

News and Views

Current events, local news and quasi-educated opinions.

4 UPFRONT

Selected dis-education of the month.

9 Ministry of Cool

Arts, entertainment and other things cooler than us.

18 Prose and Cons

Short fiction, personal essay and other assorted lies.

26 Sawdust

Threatening the magazine’s credibility since 1856.

59 3

news&views

4

School Yard Diplomacy

Holding leaders accountable in the Ithaca City School District // by George Christopher, Staff Writer

O

n January 26, 2021, Dr. Luvelle Brown, Superintendent of the Ithaca City School District announced, in an abrupt change of course, he would be remaining in his position. Two weeks earlier Brown had announced he would be stepping down from the position to enter the private sector. While Brown insisted it was unrelated, it came in the midst of controversy.

Some weeks before this, petitions circulated by a group of concerned citizens in support of Anjanette Brown, the exspouse of Dr. Brown, called for an investigation of Dr. Brown.

The petitions make several allegations against Dr. Brown including misappropriation of school resources, nepotism and abuse of power. Ms. Brown has also levied even more serious allegations of emotional and physical abuse of her children.

The group has also levied complaints at other members of the school board who they say participated in obstructive activities. Back in January, School Board President Robert Ainslie was caught on camera throwing papers, which had been served to him following the filing of a petition by Ms. Brown to the New York State Department of Education, into the snow.

Dr. Brown also serves on the Ithaca College Board of Trustees. Among those who organized around Ms. Brown was Peyi Soyinka-Airewele, a Professor of Politics at Ithaca College and a member of the Tompkins County Human Rights Commission. Professor Soyinka-Airewele is originally from Nigeria, where her father Wole Soyinka made his name as both a playwright and a freedom fighter. Professor SoyinkaAirewele became the first Black woman to gain tenure at Ithaca College. “I was born into the idea of struggle,” said she during a Zoom call alongside Anjanette Brown.

It should be noted in the interest of full disclosure, the author of this story is a student of Professor Soyinka-Airewele.

And it was in her class that I first became aware of this story.

But this story has been written independently of coercion or incentivization of any kind on the part of Professor SoyinkaAirewele. Professor Soyinka-Airewele knew both Anjanette, who she calls Anjie, and Dr. Luvelle Brown from their positions in the community, but never knew of the relationship between the two until a few years ago following Ms. Brown’s divorce.

Prior to the publicization of the petition, Ms. Brown and her supporters attempted to work through the ICSD itself.

However, the ICSD reported to Ms. Brown that the allegations levied were out of their purview, and were a personal matter.

Ms. Brown rejects this notion pointing to the New York State Department of Education’s response to her petition stating that the ICSD’s statement “improperly minimized” the allegations

levied by Ms. Brown. This was according to documents provided by Ms. Brown. Despite this acknowledgment, the NYSDE still refused to find any error in the ICSD’s decision to not seek an independent investigation.

The supporters of Ms. Brown have continued to publicize the allegations through a Facebook page and a website called ICSDAccountabilityFiles.wordpress.com. Here, they publish documents that they say prove the serious allegations against Dr. Brown.

Despite their extensive work, Ms. Brown and her support network had seemingly exhausted every legal avenue with nearly all coming up short. That was until they were contacted

by IC Alumni Against Austerity. The group, which was heavily involved in the fight to “Open the Books” and opposed the APPIC, reached out to Ms. Brown and Professor SoyinkaAirewele looking to meet and discuss their case. The group was concerned with Dr. Brown’s position on the Ithaca College Board of Trustees, and whether his conduct both personal and professional bode well for leadership positions within the institution.

“Seeing the ways in which these women, who I have so much respect for, have been shut down in our community was something very concerning,” said Sarah Grunberg, a member of IC Alumni Against Austerity, and graduate of Ithaca from the class of 2008.

Speaking alongside Elijah Breton, another member of IC Alumni Against Austerity and class of 2016 graduate, Grunberg echoed common themes of toxicity related to not only the behavior of Luvelle Brown, but in the Ithaca College administration as a whole.

“We’re continuing to let this culture fester into something that is completely unacceptable,” said Breton, discussing a pattern of problematic behavior in Ithaca going back years.

While Dr. Brown, a man of color, has often evoked an image of fighting racism and white supremacy in the classroom, Breton, a fellow man of color, says his image doesn’t reflect the damage he has done to the work of other people of color.

“What Luvelle Brown is doing is a complete disgrace,” said Breton discussing the hard work of people of color to build themselves and their careers. “What he has done completely undermines that for other people of color.

“Ultimately, there needs to be swift action taken against Luvelle Brown to ensure he is no longer on the board,” said Breton, making clear the organization’s goals concerning Luvelle Brown. But Breton made clear that IC Alumni Against Austerity’s concerns do not stop at Dr. Brown. “There needs to be systematic change,” said Breton, discussing long-term

5

issues with IC’s administration back to the years of former College President Tom Rochon, who resigned following a wave of protests against his administration in 2017.

“We should hold all our leaders to the same kind of principles that we expect,” said Professor Soyinka-Airewele while reciting several allegations of lawbreaking, corruption, and general abuse of power by Dr. Brown which they detail on their website. “It should not happen that our students are studying in an institution that considers these as negligible offenses. They are major.”

We reached out to the Ithaca College Board of Trustees to comment on this story. In their response, they acknowledged that they were aware of the allegations, which they called “personal.” The suggestion that the allegations against Dr. Brown are a mere personal matter is not new to Professor Soyinka-Airewele. She says these are not personal issues, but an issue of ethics and character of those holding positions of power within Ithaca College.

“Let me say this without any ambiguity. This is not about a domestic, personal situation. This is about a public problem about the misuse of public office both in the Ithaca community and Ithaca College,” said Professor Soyinka-Airewele.

We also reached out to Dr. Luvelle Brown for comment on this story, but as of publishing, he did not respond.

This fight has taken its toll on Ms. Brown, what she described as “exhaustive progress.” But, Ms. Brown has seemingly come out of it with some silver linings. She has taken a position along with Professor Soyinka-Airewele on the Tompkins Human Rights Commission and gained a strengthened resolve.

“I’m in this for as long as it takes,” said Ms. Brown acknowledging the fight is not merely one of right and wrong, but a personal one for herself and more importantly, her children.

Visit our website for a detailed list of grievances against Dr. Brown.

George Christopher is a third-year journalism major who is always asking the toughest questions.

They can be reached at gchristopher@ithaca.edu.

Have You Forgotten?

Reckoning with racism at college and beyond // by Kevin Gyasi-Frempah, Staff Writer

I

t has been almost six months since America’s supposed reckoning with its horrific relationship with people of color.

In Atlanta, a man went to three different spas and murdered 8 people, 6 of whom were Asian women, following a year in a pandemic that has exacerbated anti-Asian sentiments and actions. Lives stolen because we live in a society that made these actions acceptable; a society where warning people that calling a deadly virus as China Virus, Wuhan Virus, or Kung Flu would lead to hate crime is labeled “political correctness.”

So it proved frustratingly predictable when President Biden said of these attacks: “It’s wrong, it’s Un-American and it must stop.”

It is wrong. It must stop. But is it un-American? I will concede that these attacks go against the values of egalitarianism and liberty that America claims to champion. However, a nation founded on white supremacy has a familial relationship with hate crimes. A nation that enacted policies such as the Chinese Exclusion Act and Executive Order 9066 wouldn’t have antiAsian hate crimes out of its capacity. This anti-acknowledgment of this country’s real past proves symptomatic of its favorite pastime: forgetting.

White Americans have the luxurious gift of forgetting pain. I say this knowing that white people feel pain and encounter hardship. However, white Americans hardly ever feel pain or encounter hardship because of their whiteness.

White Americans were not kidnapped, chained and whipped for centuries. White Americans were not murdered or had their land stolen. White Americans were not kept out of the

country by law for decades. The white supremacy of America kidnapped and enslaved Africans. The white supremacy of America murdered the indigenous and stole their land. The white supremacy of America banned and excluded Asians and Latinx. The white supremacy of America thrived in the nation of “all men are created equal.” Those that suffered at the hands of white supremacy are cursed with those scars of memory.

I don’t fault the descendants of those white Americans who whipped, kidnapped, chained, murdered, stole and excluded.

No one should not be blamed nor irredeemably tarnished by the sins of their fathers. However, the sins didn’t die with the father. They stayed from generation to generation and century to century. And now that sin, the sin of white supremacy, has also created this prevalence of forgetting. Even when it appears that more white Americans will remember, the habit of forgetting will always return.

In 2020, America seemed to reckon with its abusive relationship with Black Americans. With mass protests occurring over the murders of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor, this time looked different than all the other murders.

However, the same hope for justice that appears with every high-profile murder dissipated and turned false. A few months afterward, support for Black Lives Matter dropped, even as the very same threat of state-sanctioned Black death remained.

While all groups, besides Blacks, had lowered support, white Americans had the sharpest drop. It went from 60% to 45%.

It went from a majority of white Americans supporting the movement to a minority. Contrary, other racial groups’ support

6

decreased but maintained a majority. This could be possibly due to many reasons (decreased media coverage, etc.). But at the core of this situation is the power of forgetfulness that moved those numbers. If one pays attention to this country’s history, one could’ve predicted that George Floyd joined the all too long list of names forgotten by white America until it cares to remember. The pain still resides, but some have, by choice or habit, forgotten. Even in smaller arenas devoid of racial brutality, forgetting is still a tool for the privileged, while others still have those small wounds with them. I have my own remembrance wounds.

In my first year at Ithaca College, a predominately white college (a type of college that preaches about diversity and inclusion, but it had as much diversity as the Garden Party scene in Get Out), I joined Buzzsaw as a copyeditor.

Buzzsaw’s ethos is this: “publish original creative journalism, commentary and satire that works to deconstruct society, pop culture, politics, college life and dominant Western beliefs.”

This sounds attractive to me as a writer influenced by the politically conscious works of James Baldwin and Ta-Nehisi Coates. Three months into it, I made a joke to one of my colleagues there, let’s call her Emma.

I asked Emma to read an essay I wrote, to which she said yes. Later in the week, she told me she couldn’t because she was busy (which was no problem for me). When I went to our weekly meetings, she waited for everyone outside while reading a book. We, along with two other members, entered the classroom. I said: “oh, you have time to read a book, but not my essay,” in a slight ribbing fashion. It was not read that way. I don’t exactly remember what she said, but I clearly remember the tone. An air of condescension, mixed with a feeling of insult that I thought I would even speak to her in that way filled her voice. I sat in a chair while she stood up and looked down at me. My near 6 foot, 230+ pound body was subjugated and made small by a little-over 5 foot, skinny white woman. She reamed me out in front of the two people already there who watched with somewhat astonishment at this verbal stoning. What threw me off: I didn’t know why she was speaking in this way towards me. I had grown up around white people talking down to me and patronizing me in ways I thought I didn’t have to deal with when I went to school up North. Was Emma talking to me like this because she’s white and I’m Black? In the end, I diffused it by telling her

that everything is fine. I tried to forget and carry on in the following minutes, but I am not spoiled with that power.

I left the meeting lying about stomach issues. Later, when I got back to my room, I felt shame for causing conflict and potentially hurting her feelings. I sent her an apology text. To which she later realizes what happened and said I didn’t need to apologize.

Afterward, I saw one of the other people there, let’s call him Richard. He knew the truth of my departure. I sat with him along with his friends to start eating as soon as I got off work, and he said: “You both hurt each other’s feelings,” and overemphasized her feelings and never asked how I felt. I told him how I, as a Black person, feel uneasy when a white person talks down to me. He dismissed it as ridiculous. The table, who knew the situation, joined in Richard’s dismissal and laughed it off with him as well. A few weeks later, he told me, “It would be stupid if you were still mad about it.” This predominately white group dismissed me. And I never talked to him about this nor countered whatever he said because I was the new kid trying to fit in, trying to find a community, and I didn’t want to jeopardize it. However, I had talked to Emma about how I felt about how she spoke to me, and she completely understood where I came from. I am not burdened with this memory, but I carry it, and Emma carries a form of it as a lesson for her.

However, I doubt Richard will remember those instances as if they’re mere throw-away instances for him, but I doubt I will forget them.

Forgetfulness is easy when it’s not on you to remember. We’re cursed with memory but also blessed with remembrance. We are more aware of the world’s true nature than the forgetful.

The world shows us its ass, and we remember, so we’re not blindsided the next time by the world’s cruelty. When we remember, we remember those who have lost and those experiences to not create this repetition of those hardships and fate. And in absolute defiance, we live. We go out and live our lives because it serves as the ultimate payback for our memory. We counter by creating memories of joy and love and happiness against the memories of alienation and pain.

Because life is not all misery. We also fight. However, what do we do when some choose to forget?

Kevin Gyasi-Frempah is a third-year writing major who will not stop asking you to remember.

They can be reached at kgyasifrempah@ithaca.edu

7

Six Reasons Barbie is the Ultimate Girlboss I wish I could write this in Barbie pink, but it’s trademarked...how girlboss is that? //

By Miriam Schatz, Contributing Writer; Art by Adam Dee, Art Editor

H

er name is Ms. Barbara Millicent Roberts, though most (fake) fans may know her by the moniker most heavily associated with her global stardom: Barbie. Who is Barbie? Well, it’s hard to say.

She’s done just about everything: I’m talking rocket science, modern cinema, actually making glittery orange hair extensions look good. If you don’t know what a girlboss is, look no further than Barbie and the top six reasons she encapsulates everything it means to be one.

Reason 1: Snaps for Capitalism A successful career is essential to being considered a girlboss.

Whether it’s climbing the corporate ladder in a pair of sensible heels, starting an Etsy shop that sells candles with scents like GRL PWR and MENS TEARS or doing something for the greater good in hopes of garnering a punny nickname (looking at you Notorious RBG), a girlboss simply isn’t a girlboss without a profession. So, it comes as no surprise that ultimate girlboss Barbie has over 200 careers on her resume. Though she started out as a fashion designer, Barbie doesn’t just have experience in the world of arts. She has worked in the medical, scientific and even political fields. Move over, Bush! Barbie was even a candidate for President of the United States in the year 2000. Does it get any more girlboss than that?

Reason 2: Fashionista TM Power suits, party dresses and pumps. Barbie does them all, and she does them well. You can’t think of Barbie without thinking of one of her iconic ‘fits. She isn’t afraid to be bold, rocking crazy colors and patterns. But she also knows when to keep it modest, and isn’t afraid to indulge in a classic Christian Girl Autumn look. And don’t forget accessories. Seriously, it’ssuper easy to lose those things...

In more recent years, Barbie has branched out into the world of social media, and what do you know, she’s a natural. Not only does she have a thriving Instagram where she shares aesthetic photos and monetized #ads, but she’s also a YouTuber.

Reason 4: THE BCU What do Marvel and Barbie have in common? That’s right! Their very own cinematic universes. The Barbie Cinematic Universe includes nearly 40 movies. And you thought Pepper Potts was a girlboss. Films in the BCU canon spread the message that friendship can solve anything, but if you don’t have friends, a comb that magically changes your hairstyle will do. This is empowering to aspiring girlbosses everywhere because it can be lonely at the top, and a unique talking animal just may be your only companion.

Reason 5: Mrs. Monopoly What’s a girlboss without some Flat Tummy Tea AdSense money in the bank? Barbie sells and she does it well. Not only has she partnered with iconic fashion designers like Yves Saint Laurent and Christion Louboutin, but she also has connections with influencer brand favorites like Sephora and fast-fashion hotspot, Zara.

Reason 6: God, I Wish That Were Me Is a girlboss truly a girlboss without making others feel like shit about themselves? Barbie has the perfect, truly unattainable (literally, like, her proportions are off ) body. She has several thriving careers.

She has a steady boyfriend, but it kind of seems like they’re in an open relationship or something (like maybe she’s his beard?). She can make anything look good. Life in plastic...it sure does seem fantastic!

Reason 3: Like and Subscribe!

Miriam Schatz is a first-year creative writing major who painted her Barbie dream house black. They can be reached at mschatz@ithaca.edu.

8

UPFRONT

9

This is Your Sign to Stop Promoting Perfection Social media’s problem with unrealistic lifestyle culture // by Mikayla Tolliver, Contributing Writer

Y

our alarm clock goes off at 6 a.m. in your perfectly organized bedroom. You roll out of bed with no problem before sauntering off to the bathroom to complete your full ten-step skin care routine. Next, you make your bed and begin a sunlight-filled journal session. Not only do you work out, but you wear a matching workout set and go for a walk too.

You make a green juice, drink a lemon water and cook a plantbased meal. Wait. But you forgot to look perfect while doing it. The morning is ruined. How can you be “That Girl” without this essential step?

What is "That Girl"? Contrary to the name, "That Girl" is not a particular girl or person. It can be anyone who wishes to take on the lifestyle that comes with being "That Girl.” "That Girl" is someone who has their shit together. She wakes up early, she works out, she eats healthy, she never looks tired, and most importantly, she’s incredibly productive.

The "That Girl" trend first began on TikTok in April of 2021.

Now, instead of only being on TikTok, "That Girl" trend videos have traveled over to YouTube and have been adopted by lifestyle creators.

When researching the “That Girl” trend on YouTube, a video made by the content creator Vanessa Tiiu comes up titled “The Ultimate Guide to Being ‘That Girl’.” The video has over 1.9 million views. It begins with a vibrant montage of the different parts of being "That Girl": working out, nourishing your body, journaling, practicing self care, and overall working on yourself. With each phrase she puts up, ten glossy and glamorous images of mostly skinny and attractive women working out in cute workout sets are shown. For the most part, the pictures she includes show a glamorized version of everything she mentions.

Tiiu then shares her own "That Girl" morning routine: waking up at 5:50am, following her skin care routine, making her bed, journaling, walking, drinking lemon water, working out, getting ready and dressed up for the day, eating a healthy breakfast and getting started on work.

Surface level, there isn’t anything wrong with this. The consistent theme with the "That Girl" trend is the ideology that it’s all about bettering yourself and becoming the best version of yourself. Underlying is a theme of needing to be consistently productive. "That Girl" content creators will include the phrase “super productive!” on the thumbnails or titles of these videos to lure people in. While the "That Girl" trend inspires many to “get up and get at ‘em,” it also creates a narrative that you need to be productive every morning and every day if you want to have it together. While some will say

that self care and mental health is important in being "That Girl", most videos don’t actually showcase relaxing or self care.

This trend is a highlight reel just as a lot of social media is. It is easy to splice together short clips of staged selections of one’s day, especially in TikTok videos where it is easy for a creator to take a two-second clip of themselves making an acai bowl and then another of them going for a jog. We rarely get to see what’s happening behind the scenes. How long does it take to make this video? Are the creators filled with energy and positivity consistently? Is everything as perfect as it looks in those curated shots?

Social media is known for negatively affecting the mental health of teenagers, especially teenage girls; it’s a breeding ground for toxic comparisons. According to BBC News, “Heavy social media use was linked to negative well being and self-esteem, regardless of a young person's mental state, with more girls experiencing feelings of depression and hopelessness” (BBC News). If this trend is about wellness, then there should also be clips of those days where you don’t want to get out of bed, or you take a little bit longer working on something. It’s one thing to romanticize your life, and another to force images of perfection 24/7. Undoubtedly, this cannot be positively affecting the mental health of not only those watching the videos, but also those creating the videos who might feel like they have to display perfection.

The "That Girl" trend shows tiny shots of girls living their best lives and also creates the illusion of perfection. The girls in the videos are always put together: their hair and makeup is done, they wear trendy outfits, and nothing about them or their living space seems to have any flaws. The "That Girl" trend pushes the subconscious requirement that if you want to join the world of "That Girl,” you too must always be put together and everything must be “aesthetic” or aestheticallypleasing while you’re doing it.

Connected to that is the physical image of "That Girl.”

Those who engage in the trend often say anyone can be "That Girl" and you can be "That Girl" in any way that works for you, but many of the creators making successful videos in this genre are white and follow conventional beauty standards. My search on YouTube only saw two popular women of color creators out of the top forty videos. This is a consistent themetheme when it comes to creators, especially those who make lifestyle content.

10

That being said, is this content truly all bad? I’ve been watching lifestyle content since I was in seventh grade. I started off watching Bethany Mota and discovered more creators that made similar content from there. I consistently watched lifestyle videos with the goal of trying to be super productive.

Young girls today are watching these videos which promote being ultra-productive. This can become harmful, especially when girls are younger because they shouldn’t have to worry about looking perfect while completing everyday tasks. But these videos suggest that you’re not good enough if you don’t. Add the additional layer of a lack of representation in this genre, and it then suggests that you must be white, skinny and wealthy if you wish to achieve this seemingly glamorous lifestyle. If you’re not, then you’re not worthy enough.

At this point, I still enjoy lifestyle content: it often inspires me

on days where I know I have a lot to do but am not feeling motivated. I tend to tune out the productivity narrative all of these videos have in which they push being as productive as possible. I take these videos with a grain of salt. If I like the journal idea they have, I’ll translate it to my own journaling.

If they get up early in the video, and if I’m feeling up to it, I’ll get up early too. Overall, I think it’s okay to watch these videos, but we have to be aware of the underlying messages some of them give out, regardless of whether the creators are conscious of it or not. We must remember that all forms of social media are highlight reels. They show us the best points of someone’s day. It’s completely fine to be productive and get your stuff together, but it’s also okay if you have days where you don’t feel like doing anything at all.

Mikayla Tolliver is a second-year writing major who knows the value of some rest and relaxation.

They can be reached at mtolliver@ithaca.edu.

Being the “G.O.A.T” Society’s Pressure on Black Women Athletes // By Olivia Celenza, Contributing Writer

P

icture this: You’re a young female athlete and the pinnacle of greatness within your field. You have spent your life dreaming of success and working to leave your mark. Where all your hard work, dedication and sacrifice will finally amount to something as you step onto the world’s greatest athletic stage. Throughout history, you’ve known the Olympics stand as a beacon of hope, uniting countries and cultures from all across our vivid mosaic of a globe through the celebration of completion and sporting, and you desperately want to be a part of it.

There is a suffocating amount of tension put on your shoulders to succeed. You MUST succeed. Failure is not an option as our society will praise you for your accomplishments yet chastise you for your shortcomings and failures. Not only must you be placed on a pedestal and treated as a machine, forced to continually perform at an unrealistically high level without regard to personal health or mental wellbeing, but you are also thrust into the spotlight, becoming the voice of the younger generations.

Millions of eyes watching you at every waking moment of your life, ready to scrutinize your every word and action, no matter how insignificant it may seem, all while being expected to represent your country, your people and your sport with infallible excellence. But no pressure, right?

Simone Biles. Over her extensive career, this powerhouse of a gymnast has twisted, vaulted and soared into America’s heart, becoming a household name and one of gymnastics’ most decorated Olympians.

She began making a name for herself in 2013 where she won

her first U.S all around title. Following her victory, Biles went on to compete at World Championships, where she has now claimed 25 medals, 19 of them gold, more than any other gymnast in history.

After asserting her dominance in the gymnastics world, Biles led the U.S. gymnast team to triumph at the 2016 Olympics in Rio, and went on to win three more golds and a bronze.

All the while being one of the hundreds of gymnasts assaulted

by Larry Nassar, who's still on trial to this day.

With a growing collection of medals, world renown, and even namesake skills, the world was waiting in eager anticipation to see what the G.O.A.T was going to bring to the Tokyo Olympics. However, when Biles withdrew in the height of competition, due to emotional exhaustion that was hindering her ability to perform, the world collectively gasped, unable to comprehend the fact that a top athlete made the conscious choice to step away from the peak of an event, especially the Olympics.

And yet, in a way, it made perfect sense. Biles was saying “no” to the gargantuan pressures, both psychological and physically, that an event of such magnitude demands. In a variety of ways, she’s lucky. As a champion both on and off the floor, she has already proven her superior talents, supported by a lengthy history of accolades. She had the option of exit. But she wasn’t stepping down just because she could or “quitting” because things got hard. “There’s more to life than gymnastics,” Biles said to reporters after her withdraw as she placed mental health at the forefront of the conversation.

Of course while Biles normalized the topic, we cannot ignore

11

not ignore the ignition to her flame: the four time-Grand Slam Champion and a force to be reckoned with, both and off the tennis court. Born on October 16th, 1997, Naomi Osaka was introduced to the sport of tennis by her father, who was inspired by Serena and Venus Williams to make Naomi and her elder sister Mari Osaka to follow in their footsteps and become the next greats in the courts.

Fast forward to 2018, and with a few titles under her belt, Naomi took what appeared to be the most pivotal steps onto the tennis court as she came face to face with tennis’ most decorated and recognizable icon and personal hero Serena Williams. And while most would cower under the weight of the superstar and her insurmountable legacy, Naomi rose to the occasion, surpassing Serena in the upset of all upsets, becoming the first woman of Asian descent to win a major title.

However, when all was said and done, celebration didn’t seem to be in the cards for the young tennis star, who suffered from severe bouts of anxiety and depression surrounding media interviews. The next month, she then withdrew from Wimbledon, earning both praise and harsh criticism for taking personal time before competing in the Tokyo Olympics, where she would carry the honor of lighting the Olympic Torch and make it to the third round of competition.

To combat the “controversy”, Osaka wrote an essay for TIME and discussed the pressure she felt to cite mental health as her reason for withdrawing.

"In any other line of work, you would be forgiven for taking a personal day here and there, so long as it's not habitual,” Osaka wrote. “You wouldn't have to divulge your most personal symptoms to your employer; there would likely be HR measures protecting at least some level of privacy. In my case, I felt under a great amount of pressure to disclose my symptoms — frankly because the press and the tournament did not believe me. I do not wish that on anyone and hope that we

can enact measures to protect athletes, especially the fragile ones."

In addition, Naomi has addressed the unrealistic expectations forced upon her to be the sole representative of the entire athletic mental health community.

“I feel uncomfortable being the spokesperson or face of athlete mental health as it's still so new to me and I don't have all the answers,” said Osaka. I do hope that people can relate and understand it's okay to not be okay, and it's okay to talk about it. There are people who can help, and there is usually light at the end of any tunnel."

Simone Biles and Naomi Osaka he first and most likely not the last black female athletes who must continually push the narrative forward. The burdens placed on their shoulders is too great for a normal individual, let alone Olympic champions who have been pushing their limits from the moment they decided to embark on their athletic journey.

The “strong Black woman” archetype designates that Black women must be inhumanly resilient, independent and invulnerable. Because these women are strong, they’re also expected to never crumble under the unfathomable weight of the expectations set for them. So when they speak out and stand up for themselves, they’re perceived as problematic and polarizing figures disrupting sports culture. The sports industry has only even begun to recognize Black women athletes as leaders and symbols of resistance, and while this small step forwards is something to be celebrated, it is in no regards enough to rectify for their past actions of isolation and neglect.

They are living human beings not meant to exist for our entertainment. They are living, breathing human beings, who deserve a place at the table and to be treated with respect.

Olivia Celenza is a second-year exploratory major who loves watching the Olympics. She can be reached at ocelenza@ithaca.edu.

Reclaiming the Movement The History of Body Positivity // By Sofia Nolfo, Contributing Writer

I

f you look under “#bodypositivity” on platforms like Instagram or TikTok, you will not see many fat people or people from marginalized communities spreading their messages.

Instead, you will often see skinny white women posing in front of the mirror, quotes like “you are not fat, you have fat” on Canva templates, and videos telling you not to worry about the little pouch of fat on the bottom of your stomach because it’s “just your uterus.” To be clear, the insecurities of these women are entirely valid. Women live in a patriarchal society where we have been taught to hate our bodies no matter what they look like. However, the issue is they have taken over an entire internet movement that

was created for the acceptance and liberation of fat people, although they are skinny women who benefit from thin privilege. This is the issue with the modern body positivity movement: the history has been erased, and the face of the movement is now people who do not need it to achieve equality in our society.

The body positivity movement has its roots in movements for fat liberation and acceptance, which have several different origins. One story goes that a man named Bill Fabrey was angered by how his wife, Joyce, was treated due to her size, so he started conversations about the unfair ways fat people were treated by society. He then went on to form the

12

form the National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance (NAAFA). Others believe the movement began with secondwave feminists in California who sought to spread awareness about the mistreatment of fat people. They pushed for fat liberation rather than acceptance. Black women were especially important voices in the early days of this movement, and activists such as Johnnie Tillmon and Margaret K. Bass spoke up about the intersectional discrimination they faced as fat black women. Regardless of who started the movement or where it began, it initially was a movement for radical acceptance and liberation of fat people. These activists wanted fair treatment of all people regardless of body size, and were not afraid to be loud and controversial to get what they wanted.

The introduction of social media in the 2000s gave a new platform to fat activist groups. Although many negative messages about bodies spread through internet forums and online news, it also gave a platform to fat activist groups.

Communities of women of color sprung up on platforms such as Tumblr and Facebook during this time where users could share their experiences as fat women of color.

It was an incredibly supportive and positive space. Things looked good for this movement on social media, at least until the rise of influencer culture that began around 2012.

More people, including those who the fat liberation and acceptance movements were not aimed at helping, began to see the term “body positivity” thrown around now that the whole world had access to it. The movement began to shift.

Quickly what had once been a radical movement to support marginalized bodies turned into a watered down movement of self-love and blind positivity, and the consequences have been huge for the original movement.

TikTok has specifically been a very strange place for the body positivity movement. There have been lots of trends on the app that claim to promote body positivity. However, these trends often have underlying fatphobia, or just miss the mark entirely. These trends are also often taken up by thin white women trying to prove to themselves that they are actually skinny. Danielle Pragdat, a 19-year-old college student from New Jersey spoke to me about issues she sees on social media regarding body positivity. She says she has been affected negatively by content surrounding bodies on the internet, and sees many issues with how the body posi-

tivity movement has been taken over by thin white women trying to create “relatable” content for their audience.

“There’s people who take pictures of themselves posing a certain way and making it seem like that’s ‘their normal self,.’” Pragdat says.

There have also been several trends where people post their exact weights to promote “normalizing” being at the weight they are at, even though people who have suffered from eating disorders have made it very clear that behavior can be triggering for them. When thin creators on TikTok and other platforms get called out for their actions, they often get defensive, saying “skinny people can have insecurities too!” and “it’s always body positivity until it’s for a thin person.” These reactions show a complete misunderstanding of the movement and show how watered down it has become. Again, anyone is allowed to have insecurities and vent about them, but when they do it under the guise of body positivity and perpetuate fatphobia while doing it, that is when it becomes a problem. It’s inaccurate to pretend that they are the ones being mistreated for their content while fat creators on the app get brutalized every day. When fat creators try to post about loving themselves, or what they eat in a day, their comment section is full of people trying to give them health advice or claim they are “promoting obesity.”

As much as social media has done to detriment the original movement, there are some benefits from the introduction of body positivity to social media. Danielle tells me that although in the past her social media feeds used to be full of people who would make her feel bad about her body, she now tries to only follow social media creators with real body positive messages.

“I want to educate myself to be part of the change”, she tells me. Even though algorithms tend to push white, thin creators, there are diverse communities having important, nuanced conversations about body positivity and introducing the idea of body neutrality. There are people doing the real work out there. There is a long way to go to get to a perfect place in the online body positivity community, and the only way to get there is to return the spotlight to those who started the movement.

Sofia Nolfo is a second-year CMD major who wants everyone to know that #bodypositivity is more than a social media trend.

They can be reached at snolfo@ithaca.edu.

13

Is This Still In?

Social Media and Misogyny Drive the Trend Industry // By Erin Terada, Staff Writer

V

SCO girl, Alt-girl, coconut girl, girlboss—all these style trends have circulated through social media and into the closets of Gen-Z girls. It is almost as if we cannot keep up with the trends and how fast they go in and out. As trends have risen and fallen, we are able to see that these trends are more than just clothes, but also raise questions about the ethicality of the fashion industry and how misogyny may contribute to the cycle.

Fashion trends have always been around throughout the decades. Each decade has several iconic trends that define that moment in fashion history. However, it seems that as fashion has circulated widely through the internet and social media, these trends become more amplified and therefore trend cycles move a lot faster than ever. Clothing brands have taken advantage of trending subcultures and styles, and begun to knowingly utilize numerous micro-influencers by sending them PR clothing packages in exchange for a post to be made. You may have seen women on Instagram promoting clothing from Fashion Nova, or women on Tik Tok promoting Princess Polly or Motel Rocks. This is in hopes that as the audience (potential consumers) scrolls through their social media feeds, they repeatedly see the same clothing pieces, making them think that these are currently trending pieces. These brands produce clothing that fit in with the current trending aesthetics, whether it be VSCO girls in 2019, or coconut girls of summer 2021.

A lot of popular clothing pieces we see throughout the seasons are considered micro-trends because many of these are not timeless pieces that can be worn into the next season.

Timeless pieces are clothing pieces that are considered classic items that can be worn throughout any year and are implemented as staple’s in one’s wardrobe. Everyone’s opinion of a timeless piece is different, but some examples include a plain white t-shirt, blue jeans, a little black dress, etc. Essentially, they are clothing pieces that have survived the trend cycle and are considered staples to one’s wardrobe. In contrast, microtrends often go out of style within the season. Because micro-trends are rapidly coming and going, this has fueled the fast fashion industry like never before by driving the production of new clothing styles faster.

Ithaca College senior Makayla Carozzolo is a journalism student who has researched the impacts of fast fashion and the current trend cycle and became conscious of how it influenced the industry and her own consumer habits.

“I’ve always bought things that I personally like and I refuse to buy things unless I love it,” said Carozzolo. “I definitely notice advertizing that push certain styles but if I don’t give into microtrends if I don’t love them.”

The fascinating thing about this generation’s fashion trends is that many of them coincide with different viral youth subcultures. As expected in this generation, many of these subcultures are influenced by social media and young people often strive to achieve a certain aesthetic of their liking. The variety

of subcultures seem to come and go as the fashion trends do, but there seems to be another invisible force influencing the cycle even further—internalized misogyny.

We often witness an interesting phenomenon both online and in real life of hating and making fun of things teenage girls and young women like. In many cases, many of the perpetrators are women and girls themselves. When a trend is over popularized, it is then somehow considered out of style and “basic”, which pressures consumers into buying new clothes that are considered currently in style. The pressure to keep up with these trends and aesthetics are not only put on influencers who showcase them, but also to consumers as well. An influencer who is sponsored and has partnerships with clothing brands may be able to keep up easily because they are being sent free clothes, but this isn’t viable to many young women who are on a budget, even if they are buying from cheap fast fashion brands.

Philosopher Kate Manne, who is a professor at Cornell University, wrote in the Boston Review of the different types of misogyny that manifests in the political climate that we have today. Manne says that women can display misogynistic behaviors without being self-hating, which is a common misconception of women who have tendencies of internalized misogyny.

“But women may also be prone to police other women’s bodies and behavior, elevating themselves in the terms of patriarchal values or signaling their loyalty to patriarchal figures.”

Manne wrote.

We see this type of policing especially on social media regarding style trends and fashion. Women and girls are put down by both men and women for being “basic”, or adhering to mainstream trends, products, and music.

“Whoever the enforcers are, women who transgress are liable to be punished for any number of spurious reasons,” Manne wrote. “Or they may simply be subject to crude insults, mockery, and derision.”

The case of the VSCO girl trend is the prime example of how a style trend rose and fell due to the trend cycle and misogyny. Countless articles, YouTube videos, and posts on social media mocked girls who dressed like VSCO girls and bought products that were popularized by the trend.

Another internet-popularized term for someone who displays internalized misogyny is the “pick-me” girl. The “pick-me” girl puts down other girls for the things they do and like for male validation, showing that they are “not like other girls.”

This behavior is not only harmful to young women and their self-esteem, but also to the environment because of how this misogyny contributes to fueling the fast fashion industry.

Overconsumption of clothing was always an environmental issue, but has been put in the spotlight in recent years due to social media. Brands like Shein that sell microtrend pieces for a cheap and affordable price are often subjects of haul videos, videos where someone shows off what they’ve bought. Large

14

Shein hauls are attainable to both influencers and young consumers, promoting overconsumption even more.

Is there a way to end the cycle? Some say that until sustainable fashion is accessible to all, it is not right to demonize consumers of fast-fashion and microtrends. A better way to promote ethical fashion is to educate consumers about the harms of overconsumption and encourage buying and wearing timeless pieces that they can wear for years throughout multiple seasons. There is nothing wrong with following trends, but when mounds of clothing are being worn once and thrown away, it is a huge environmental issue.

Carozollo said one way she keeps her shopping in check is by evaluating whether she’d wear a piece multiple times.

“I ask myself, ‘can I wear it hanging out with my friends, going to school, and going out?’” said Carozzolo. “If I can do that, then I know a piece is worth it.”

Another way to slow the pace of the cycle would be to stop policing women for their clothing choices when their personal style isn’t considered trendy or up-to-date. Without the pressure to constantly keep up with trends, this will allow individuals to find their own personal style that they might’ve not discovered yet, or to stick to an aesthetic that they love without ever feeling like it may go out of style.

Without having the pressure to conform, this would minimize the misogyny that also contributes to the trend cycle, which benefits both young consumer wallets and their personal wellbeing. It is becoming harder to keep up with fashion and style trends, and once this consumer mindset shift occurs, it is possible that fashion will be more inclusive and diverse.

Erin Terada is a senior journalism major that is tired of fast fashion.

They can be reached at eterada@ithaca.edu.

15

Digital Age Women

t Ar

By

lyn

ro Ca

ger

Lan

Growing Up as a Woman Socialized on the Internet // By Brooke Willer, Contributing Writer Content Warning: This piece contains discussions of eating disorders. If you are someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder, there are resources to help.

National Eating Disorders Association (NEDA): https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org NEDA Help Line: 1-800-931-2237

The Alliance for Eating Disorders Awareness: https://www.allianceforeatingdisorders.com

efore the internet, social spheres were limited to local communities. Through global networks and spread of communication, the need for proximity to exchange ideas has become essentially extinct. Humankind is now almost entirely connected, and with this comes a type of gender socialization never seen before. Socialization of the body, learning what appearances are acceptable and what gets you the most attention, is amplified on the internet.

Different ideas of what kind of woman is most “acceptable” in society promotes insecurity in the natural bodies. Encouragement and sexualization of the “mature looking woman,” is advertised by several social media influencers, which is mainly destructive to young women and girls. The opposite is true for the health and beauty standard in media which is commonly portrayed as thin and petite, promoting a “youthful” appearance. Other forms of media such as music, particularly by men, foster female standards and commodified depictions of women in their songs. The ideal woman is thick but not fat, idealistic but not realistic. It creates an endless chase, an endless competition for perfection. However, social media functions specifically to create the illusion that perfection is attainable. Reinforced by the media, the goal always stays moving.

“They make it look so easy to be popular and loved online,” says one 19-year-old student. “I guess that’s what makes perfection seem attainable, but the goal really is always moving. I’m always stuck comparing myself to others online because social media is literally endless. I can scroll

forever and repeatedly feel the same thing. I don’t know why I do it to myself, does anyone?”

Social media provides a platform for young women to constantly seek out their desires, whether it be conscious or not. Thinspiration, otherwise known as thinspo, holds its grip on social media and has done so successfully for years.

The popularity of pro-eating disorder content emerged on platforms such as Tumblr, with dangerous hashtags, tips and tricks, easily becoming a tutorial for young women. It can also be seen on YouTube, with former influencers such as Eugenia Cooney and Dr. Dray promoting pro-anorexia content to millions of subscribers. Comments under eating videos, such as those by muckbang YouTuber ‘Nickado Avocado’ contain comments essential to upholding the eating disorder culture on the internet, concerning content gone ignored by YouTube for years.

The competitive nature of eating disorders is enhanced by comment sections such as those on YouTube and TikTok, which further cultivates a dangerous world. Eating disorders are a communicable coping mechanism and the social media monolith gives it an outlet. The terms of service online will completely ignore harmful rhetoric as long as it plays a r ole in increasing profit margin.Tumblr and YouTube’s dangerous content has made way for TikTok. Video content of exercise routines and ‘what I eat in a day’ intensifies the existing problems surrounding body image. A young woman already suffering from dysmorphic self image previously instilled by

B

16

parents, peers, brands and advertising industries, is immensely susceptible to the toxic sub cultures present on TikTok. New York Times statistics show that, “In June 2019, nearly half of the daily users in the United States were estimated to be 14 or younger.” It doesn’t take a computer science major for even younger kids to click a few boxes to verify their age.

“I got all my socials when I was 12 or 13 I think, and I would say the youngest I’ve seen is about 6-8 year old primarily on tiktok,” says a student.

Others say they’ve seen literal babies. Susan Ice reports, “The incidence of eating disorders has doubled since the 1960s and is increasing in younger age groups, in children as young as seven. Forty percent of 9-year-old girls have dieted and even 5-year-olds are concerned about diet,” as noted in the American Psychological Associations article on rising eating disorders due to youth presence on the internet.

Along with concepts online such as thinspo and pro-ana content is a trend called “body checking.” One student defines body checking as “lifestyle influencers who like, preach healthy living and being “real,” but like they make these TikTok videos posing so that they look skinnier or so that you can’t see bloating.”

“It’s really normalized on TikTok and I find myself doing it a lot more now because of TikTok,” another student says. “I love TikTok. I go on it when I need to decompress and find some sort of comedic relief. There’s some funny shit on there

and I feel like it gives me a community I’ve never had in real life. It sucks sometimes though, when I’m laughing at one video and then I scroll and suddenly my brain just overflows with self-hating rhetoric because of someone else’s body. It’s not fair because I know the person on my for you page is not responsible for my self image. They aren’t even responsible for it though, it’s all part of one system that is designed to screw us up.”

Though there are debates about topics like body positivity, and if the term “body checking,” is really a thing, most people would agree that social media plays a vital role in eating disorder culture among young women. The effects of growing up socialized on the internet are showing, both online and in present spaces all around. It may be possible for social media and in particular for social media users to cultivate a space of complete body neutrality, but until that day the real dangers will continue to present themselves to continuously younger generations.

Brooke Willer is a first-year exploratory major who is ready to shift the landscape of social media.

They can be reached at bwiller@ithaca.edu

17

ministryofcool

18

The Hidden Stories of Powerful Women The time has come to redefine girlboss // By Navroop Kaur, Contributing Writer Art by Carolyn Langer, Staff Artist

I

f you’re an avid social media user, no doubt you’ve seen the word “girlboss” gain traction these past few months.

The term was made famous in 2014 by the founder of Nasty Gal, Sophia Amoruso, when she released her book titled, #Girlboss. Through this book, she tells the story of how she founded Nasty Gal despite the struggles of working against a patriarchal society. To label her success, she calls herself and others like her a girlboss.

Once again, this word is circulating through pop culture, but it holds more meaning than people realize.

When you think of a girlboss, what comes to mind? How do you define success? To be successful, does one have to be wealthy, educated and powerful? A girlboss can be a woman thriving in a traditionally male-dominated profession. Or they can be a powerful woman that was able to work against patriarchal social expectations and work their way to the top. Can you see the pattern in all these definitions?

All these traits are good things for a person to want in a role model, but they are centered around traditional ideas of success. If this depiction of a girlboss is the only one that is made

popular, it creates a tunnel view of how we picture successful and strong women.

The girlboss movement has transformed itself into a wave of feminism as people on social media work to uplift other women and congratulate them for their accomplishments.

The major flaw is the obvious exclusion of racial and social issues that are intertwined with feminist issues. The media already struggles with incorporating intersectional feminism and bringing to light the overlapping identities of people and their struggles. For a term like girlboss to become something more inclusive, people must widen the scope of their knowledge of women and how they define success.

Much of the fashion industry is dominated by women. However, these corporations are built on the backs of garment workers, and a majority of these workers are women.Cultural stereotypes, as well as economic and social vulnerability, push many women to take these back-breaking jobs to make a living. Large fashion companies, such as Zara, are notorious for the workers’ rights violations in their factories; the workers are often denied bathroom breaks, work long hours and are

19

underpaid, all to support their families at home. Have you ever seen stories of these women when you look up girlboss?

If you have Instagram, search #girlboss. What do you see?

Aside from all the Met Gala pictures and memes. The examples of girlbosses you’re going to find on the platform usually fit into the traditional traits that were mentioned above. Articles and social media posts about girlbosses consist of powerful and wealthy women, business and corporation owners and so on. You won’t see any posts highlighting the stories of garment workers and the women that work behind the scenes of these business moguls.

Another classic girlboss icon is Rosalia Mera. She co-founded the fashion company, Zara, alongside her husband, Amancio Ortega. From philanthropy work to activism, Mera worked hard to gain her wealth, as well as advocate for others. She is politically active and spoke out against Spain’s abortion laws and cutbacks to health care and education programs. Mera is one of the wealthiest self-made women, and her story is one of hard work and inspiration. Exactly what people want to see in a girlboss, right?

Now introducing Daliya Akhter. At age eleven, she ran away from home and got a job at a clothing factory in Bangladesh. ​​ The combination of poor working conditions, worsening pay and loss of rights led to Akhter creating a union. She was one of the first women in Bangladesh to start a garment workers’ union. Unfortunately, her success and the impact she and many women like her have on factory workers’ conditions are often overlooked, and even more rarely covered in the media.

They do not receive the same idolization as Mera, but ignoring these women and their stories furthers the polarization in the feminist movement itself. It uplifts certain feminist issues in the media while burying others.

Girlboss culture follows many social media influencers promoting companies, especially fast-fashion companies like Zara, Fashion Nova and Shein. Scroll through TikTok or Instagram, and you’re likely to see someone with a large following advertising clothing from a fast-fashion company. Social media promotes commodity culture and centers around obtaining wealth, power and popularity. Trends and movements like girlboss culture build off of these previously established ideas and exclude a multitude of people. The goal of feminism is to be inclusive of all people; uplifting a specific personality and character to be the head of a movement or symbolize success is invalidating and harmful.

With that said, social media needs to reframe its use of girlboss and girlboss culture. We need to move away from glorifying a specific archetype for success and instead highlight other women whose stories are not shared but should be. We need to bring to light that there are feminist issues that’re being ignored and social media movements like #girlboss that allow for the exclusion to continue. It’s time for our feeds to share the stories of the women being covered up by the big and powerful figures that dominate our media and culture.

Navroop Kaur is a first year writing for speech and language pathology major who thinks girlbosses on all levels deserve our hype.

They can be reached at nkaur@ithaca.edu.

20

Top 10 Elite Girlboss Songs That Should Be On Your Playlist Before you even try and read the list: no, Olivia Rodrigo is not on here // Molly Fitzsimons, Contributing Writer

D

isclaimer: These are my hype up, feel like that bitch, fuck the patriarchy songs.

1. “My Lovin’” – En Vogue An entire song showing that men cannot just walk back into a woman’s life after they messed up. He had his chance and lost it, and now she knows her worth enough not to let him hear her again. Also, the breakdown is *chef’s kiss*.

2. “THAT BITCH” – Bea Miller Title speaks for itself and you should definitely give this a listen. Anything said about this song just does not do it justice.

3. “Crack” - India de Beaufort This song was a new discovery for me. Published right before the 2020 election, it includes topics such as feminism, racists voting for Trump again and the idea that women are quickly labeled as a “bitch” or a “bore” for simply having opinions.

4. “Better in Color” – Lizzo There had to be a Lizzo song… obviously. This song is the best to blast in the car or headphones — trust me on this one.

It is incredibly empowering and focuses on the idea that women of all shapes, sizes, colors and orientations are amazing.

5. “H B I C” – Gin Wigmore Spoiler alert: it stands for Head Bitch In Charge. On top of it being a great rock song, it’s a great, hard-working girl song about how Gin Wigmore is done rolling over for people.

6. “Ain’t Shit” – Doja Cat Anthem. Fuck men. They ain’t shit.

7. “Think” – Aretha Franklin (with Blues Brothers) We don’t do a woman power song list without the Queen herself. An anthem about how she can see through his manipulation and telling him she’s smarter than that.

8. “Take a Hint” – Victorious Cast I will not hear backlash on this one. An entire song dedicated to the issues that come with rejecting men and when men should just back off. Also, Elizabeth Gillies!!!

9. “None of Your Business” – Salt-N-Pepa Another artist that we do not exclude from girlboss song lists.

This is a great song about how you should do what you want, and that it really is no one else’s problem. If nothing else, listen to, or at least read the chorus: “If I wanna take a guy home with me tonight/It's none of your business/And she wanna be a freak and sell it on the weekend/It's none of your business.”

10. “9 to 5” - Dolly Parton The idea of a hard-working woman who is making her way through life by simply putting in the work to ideally be successful one day is rarely talked about, let alone in music.

Thank you, Dolly, for this one.

Molly Fitzsimons is a second year integrated marketing and communications major who listens to this playlist in order to slay their next presentation. They can be reached at mfitzsimons@ithaca.edu

Upfront

21

Raw From the Saw

Movie Review: Annette

By M. Minton, Contributing Writer

I

f you’ve been waiting to see Adam Driver burst out a musical number while giving oral sex, director Leos Carax’s new wild creation “Annette” is right up your alley. The less that is known about this insanely original musical’s plot before you watch it, the better. “Annette” recently had its premiere at Cannes, where it won the award for Best Director. Starring Driver alongside Marion Cotillard and Simon Helberg, with a screenplay and songs written by Ron and Russell Mael of The Sparks, this is a film that swings for the fences and doesn’t care who gets lost along the way. I love it. For its ambition, for the visceral nature of Carax’s direction of the musical numbers and for the dark humor and tragedy of it all, “Annette” is a wonderful creation all around.

The brilliant performances help drive Carax’s brilliantly hypnotic vision, with Adam Driver’s lead role as Henry, a standup comedian, offering Driver his most meaty — and frankly best — performance to date. Driver gives Henry a demeaning sense of authority; a violent and terrifying attitude through the way he commands every scene, but also a sense of cowardliness underneath what he puts out to the world. In some earlier scenes where we watch Driver perform stand-up, we get a true sense of Henry’s physicality and controlling nature that finds its way into his marriage with Ann, portrayed by Oscarwinner (for “La Vie en Rose”) Marion Cotillard. Ann is an opera singer who possesses a heavenly voice. The dramatic and sensational nature of her performance within the film mirrors not only her relationship with Henry, but the very structure of the film’s opera-like musicality as a whole.

Then we have Simon Helberg as The Accompanist who, in my opinion, is the standout of the cast. His role is definitely supporting, but even with limited screen time, he manages to

make a terrific impression in a funny but also deeply sad and heartfelt turn.

Truthfully, the Hollywood-movie-musical-type is not the award and box office darling it once was. The age of the Technicolor of “Singin’ in the Rain” and the grand, beautiful scale of “An American in Paris” has since fallen out of place. Sure, once in a while we’ll have a “La La Land” level hit that reminds Oscar voters and audiences of the pure magic of musicals, but that is the exception. Today’s audiences crave something different; musicals are often seen as childish, or something of a different era entirely. But why can’t musicals be deep?

“Annette,” as much as film enthusiasts like me sing its praises, is not going to suddenly revive the musical genre — its audience is extremely niche, and its award chances are slim, to say the least. Regardless, “Annette” remains a testament to the beauty of what the musical genre can be used to invoke; the film’s musicality and the scale of its musical numbers allows us to feel the pure power of such a tremulous marriage, the dangerous lengths that someone may go to for anger and revenge and the love that carries through, even when the world is all but gone.

M Minton is a first year writing for film, tv and emerging media major who has faith in the triumphant return of the Hollywood-movie-musical.

They can be reached at mminton@ithaca.edu.

Movie Review: The Card Counter

By Thomas Lawson, Contributing Writer

“W

hat better way to die than on the job?” asked Paul Schrader on Facebook last May. A bit-player on the writer/director’s set had caught coronavirus, suspending production just as the finish line approached on the Mississippi-based shoot. Schrader clearly wasn’t happy. His habit of taking to social media to vent his outrage mimics that of his angst-ridden, diary-keeping protagonists — Travis Bickle

in “Taxi Driver,” for instance, or Ethan Hawke’s pastor Ernst Toller in “First Reformed.” “Write what you know,” as the old adage goes.

William Tell (Oscar Isaac), the titular card counter in Schrader’s “The Card Counter,” also keeps a diary. We’re privy to many of Tell’s inner monologues on the nature of blackjack, poker and his nihilistic worldview shaped by his years as a tor-

22

of ritual, shrouding motel room furniture in white sheets as he hops from casino to casino, eking out a repetitive living by skilfully — and illegally — turning the odds in his favor.

A chance encounter with Cirk (Tye Sheridan), a young and debt-ridden lone ranger, leads Tell on a dangerous collision course with Maj. Gordo (Willem Dafoe), Tell’s former supervisor at Abu Ghraib. All the while, a budding relationship with the moneyed backer La Linda (Tiffany Haddish) threatens to derail his controlled existence.

Schrader has plenty of fascinating ideas, and doesn’t shy away from unorthodox combinations. While the contrapuntal themes of climate change and loss of faith harmonized into a powerful narrative in “First Reformed,” “The Card Counter” fails to synthesize its two radically divergent storylines.

Tell’s nightmares recalling his time in Iraq under Gordo give us some sense of his trauma, but the revenge subplot remains just that: a subplot, one that never makes a dent on the casino happenings. It’s an odd juxtaposition that just doesn’t pay off, with the movie flip-flopping its attention as one might while channel-surfing late on a Friday night.

It’s a shame since Oscar Isaac delivers a solid, endlessly watchable performance as the troubled Tell. The same cannot be said for Tiffany Haddish, however, whose comedic leanings hang over her performance like a Sword of Damocles, threatening at any moment to show themselves. For a film with

such a dour atmosphere and serious tone, it should be asked whether her casting was the right decision. Tye Sheridan delivers most of his lines without conviction — perhaps another odd directorial choice by Schrader. At least the reliable Willem Dafoe gives a memorable, off-kilter turn as Gordo.

There are flourishes of brilliance: the ultra-fisheye lens through which we view Tell’s memories of Abu Ghraib turns them into something akin to a sickening VR experience, or a Google Street View tour of hell. Similarly engaging is a short scene in a garden of lights, with thousands of miniature bulbs surrounding Tell and La Linda on a midnight stroll as the camera floats up and above. “The Card Counter” is at its best when it breaks out of the rigid, unfeeling style Schrader has favored as of late — again he homages the “Transcendental Style” of his icons Bresson and Dreyer. His reverence for their films worked wonders in “First Reformed,” but he couldn’t repeat the miracle twice.

Thomas Lawson is a fourth year Cinema and Photography major who is working to watch every “a man in a room” film before graduating. They can be reached at tlawson@ithaca.edu.

TV Review: Gossip Girl (2021) Gossip Girl here, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of… Instagram’s elite? //

By Brianna Tovar, Social Media Editor

N

ail appointment at 6 a.m., class at 8 a.m., Chanel popup at 4 p.m. and party at 11 p.m. This was the typical schedule of any wealthy and privileged character in “Gossip Girl” (2007), more specifically Blair Waldorf, the character that everyone wanted to be. This over-the-top TV series was all that anyone talked about as social media and fashion trends became much more popular. There was something about the idea of upper-class, label-obsessed young people in NYC who like to drink, take drugs, have sex and treat each other in the worst ways possible while dressing in the best couture from head to toe. Six seasons of backstabbing and partying later, the show ended. But it left its mark in pop culture, fashion trends and famous actors we know today, like Blake Lively.

Since 2007, the Instagram influencer has become far more important and fashion influencers have taken over the world.

Fashion and influencer trends have blown up on social media and now Instagram and Tiktok tell us what’s hot and what’s not. There has always been this constant change in our generation’s social world due to social media, so it makes sense why a reboot was brought into question. Guessing from how the last episode of “Gossip Girl” ended — five years after they all graduated — it’s a good time to do a reboot, especially to introduce an updated storyline without it being too unfamiliar, and to show how much social media has changed our lives.

From the moment the trailer was released in June, people

had mixed emotions about if it was a show worth watching.

Within an hour of the first episode’s premiere, the show was trending No.1 nationwide on Twitter, continuing as a Top Five trend through mid-day. But the reviews weren’t all positive.

Some couldn’t handle the idea of knowing who Gossip Girl is from the very first minute of the show, and others had high expectations for the main characters which were not met. One new addition to this reboot is a more diverse cast with issues that are more timely to the era. Off the bat, Zoya and Julien are two half-sisters who come from completely different backgrounds and attempt to make the effort to finally meet and attend the same school together. Apart from the main story, you have Aki and Audrey’s rocky relationship with their sexualities with Max stepping in to make more drama; Luna and Monet, Julien’s sidekicks whose jealousy often takes over; and lastly, the angry teachers of this prestigious school who all side as ‘Team Gossip Girl.’

As a fan of the original series, I thought this reboot wasn’t all that bad. It took me a second to appreciate because reboots often don’t go well, but mostly because I did have high expectations for this show considering how much I loved the first one. I enjoyed the similarities of characters like Blair and Serena’s sister-from-another-mister relationship and Zoya and Julien actually being related, as well as the love-hate relationships that go with the rest of the characters. I think they did a

23

relationships that go with the rest of the characters. I think they did a good job representing issues that are realistic in our current world today like attending protests, the struggles of being a social media influencer rather than a celebrity, family issues like divorces or finding a new partner and of course, being a new girl at a very prestigious school. One thing about this show that I do love, and that stays true to the original show, is the obnoxiousness of the characters. The whole point of this show is really to depict the lives of very spoiled kids who make the worst decisions, and I think it’s fun that these characters are specifically the main characters. It also just goes to show how if they are particularly the most privileged kids at this school, imagine the other kids who also go there.

One character that I absolutely love is none other than my king, Aki. He is the most unproblematic one and minds his business every time something goes down. I’m really excited to see where his relationship with Audrey goes, and also how he explores his sexuality, whether that be with Max or not.

One thing I hate about this show is Obie, who I think is trying to be too much like Nate from the OG series. If you’re all caught up with the show, you know that Obie has a thing

for the sisters and it’s very odd. I hope that when the show resumes again, we get a new love interest for either Julien or Zoya because they deserve better.

Honestly, I understand why people hate this show after the impact the OG series left, and it makes sense as to why many think we don’t need another one. However, I do understand why we have received one. It adds a new perspective and also drives a newer audience to this show. Overall, I can’t wait until the show resumes in November and hopefully we get some cameos or mentions of the OG cast to shake up the plot.

Brianna Tovar is a fourth year integrated marketing and communications major who has a pinterest board for each Gossip Girl queen. They can be reached at btovar@ithaca.edu.

Album Review: Sometimes I Might Be Introvert by Little Simz The underground rap star solidifies her acclaim with her fifth LP // By Jess Williams, Contributing Writer

B

ritish rapper Simbiatu Ajikawo, better known by her artist name Little Simz, is one of the most celebrated names in the underground rap scene. This is true especially after the release of her third full-length studio album “GREY Area,” which was a grand departure from the winding concepts of her previous output in favor of harsher production, more direct and pointed lyrics and a darker attitude. “GREY Area” brought Simz critical and commercial acclaim, affirming her place as a boundary-pushing artist at the forefront of hip-hop. With her fifth LP, “Sometimes I Might Be Introvert” sees Ajikawo return to the highly conceptual attitude of previous records like “Stillness In Wonderland,” with a very refined approach.

“Sometimes I Might Be Introvert,” which can be written as the acronym SIMBI (a clever reference to her nickname), is a lush, gorgeous, immaculately arranged and eclectic group of expertly-crafted tracks. It is a deep dive into Simz’s past, her life, her personality and her role in the music industry, painting this detailed, flawed, realistic and relatable portrait of one of the most forward-thinking and fresh artists in hip-hop.

The orchestral bombastic bliss of “Introvert”; the innocent and exciting playfulness of "Little Q,” backed up with some heartwarming children's choir vocals; the experimental minimalist banger “Speed.” In the masterfully-executed highlight “Standing Ovation,” Simz has crafted a bold statement on who she is as an artist and a person. She is assertive, solid and perfectly subtle in her words, her flow, her production and her aesthetic. Every song is a standout in it’s own way, but

Art by Carolyn Langer nothing swept me off my feet quite like “I Love You, I Hate You,” which might go down as one of the coolest, heartpunching genius musical moments of this year. Over a continuously looping sample of “I love you, I hate you...” Simz addresses the complicated relationship she has with her father, going into impressive detail about the emotional impact

24

he left on her. Her verses ebb and flow as she masterfully balances scolding her father’s actions, while still respecting him as a human being and acknowledging how he shaped her into the person she is today. This impossible balancing act becomes increasingly impressive as she continues to deliver these bars while following the narrative pattern provided by the “I love you, I hate you” sample underneath her. The emotional maturity on this track is stunning, as Simz describes her process of forgiving her father, and how she has grown as a person both from his absence and from her own forgiveness.

"Lately, I'm paranoid, I feel my life is a mess I'm just usin' my voice, hope it will have an effect, he was just once a boy, often I seem to forget.” Her empathetic perspective is scolding, but she's not using empathy as a weapon, or to justify her father’s actions. She's using it as a stepping stone for her to rise above her own grudges and to grow as a person.

"I keep you in my prayers 'cause life is short as we know Every mistake you make should contribute to your growth What you choose to avoid'll probably come in your dreams I'm not forgivin' for you, man, I'm forgivin' for me" “Sometimes I Might Be Introvert” is without a doubt my favorite rap album to come out this year so far. It's bold, diverse, lyrically stunning and inventive. No hip-hop album this year has stopped me in my tracks like this one. Little Simz has made something truly special, so special that it might not just be my favorite rap album of 2021, but my favorite album of 2021.

Jess Williams is a first year exploratory major who blasts underground rap in their dorm room to hype up for a test.

They can be reached at jwilliams16@ithaca.edu.

Album Review: The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack by Saint Motel “The End is Coming.” // By Emily Imanishi, Staff Writer

T

hose daunting words didn’t signal anything malicious, but rather the third and final installment of Saint Motel’s album “The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack.” “The end begins May 14th,” another phrase posted by the band on their social media, hinted to fans the release of the first single of the album. The album was released in three parts: Part One in October 2019, Part Two in March 2020 and Part Three in June 2021. Covid-19 frequently affected and changed plans for the album up until its release. The band’s tour for the album was slated for fall 2021, however they just recently decided to cancel it due to the pandemic. Personally, I had tickets to see them in Buffalo, so I was more than crushed to learn of the cancellation.

If you vaguely recognize the name Saint Motel, it’s probably from their 2014 hit “My Type.” The song launched the band into the spotlight and got them gigs on late night shows and festivals, including playing the main stage of Coachella in 2015. Although the band has risen in popularity since then, the upbeat and catchy nature of their songs has stayed constant.

“The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack” starts off with the song “Old Soul.” This slower-paced song feels like it would fit right into a 1920’s movie, full of glamor and grace. The second track, “Sisters,” is my personal favorite. It has a very 50’s sound to it, with the chorus even sampling the 1957 Sheppard Sisters song “Alone.” One of the more popular songs on the album, “A Good Song Never Dies,” brings a ‘slick, spy-like sound that would fit perfectly in a James Bond movie. Meanwhile, the song “It’s All Happening” brings the sci-fi action feel of movies such as “The Suicide Squad.” This theme of movie genre-type songs is part of what gives the album its

grandness. Each track conveys a different feeling and a different genre of music that you wouldn’t expect to see from an indie band like Saint Motel.

Accompanying a few of the tracks are visualizers featuring dramatic openings followed by actors dancing and creating a visual story to the song. This was done only for songs of the first installment, likely due to Covid, however they did release acoustic and mariachi versions of several songs from the album on their YouTube.

An album trying to embody the grandness of movies is something I’ve never seen before, and the way Saint Motel does it on “The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack” makes it look effortless. Seamlessly transitioning from western to classical, the songs somehow never feel out of place. They tell their own story through the lyrics and instrumentals, making each track its own mini-movie. Whether on shuffle or in order, the songs on the album carry a weight unique and unforgettable.

Emily Imanishi is a second year writing for film, tv and emerging media major whose top artist on Spotify has been Saint Motel for five years straight. They can be reached at eimanishi@ithaca.edu.

25

prose&cons

26

Adhikari Motors

By Tyler Dale, Contributing Writer Parvathi dabbed her forehead with a wet washcloth and glared past the sun’s beams at the rickety sign her father had put up thirty-five years ago. Being able to stand in front of his auto-shop and hear the ear-piercing howls of mechanical engineering at work brought her a great sense of pride, yet she also felt anxious at the idea of what her father would think of what she was doing beyond the storefront. She’ll have Ghale take it down tomorrow. That should take some of the weight off of her shoulders. Then again, how many times had she thought that? She averted her eyes from the sign and turned her gaze upon the city streets with anything but genuine interest. The shop was nestled, hidden even, in one of the more dense parts of the city, where the people walked shoulder-to-shoulder to the distant rhythms of car horns. Business would always be decent. Just the way she liked it.

She wore a red-orange coverall- practical given her work, but in keeping with her innermost desire to look fashionable and feel vigorous. It was symbolic of her and only her. It was also her favorite color, and it had been her mother’s favorite color. Not only did it combine the pure intensity of her passion with a hint of her courageousness, but it was also outlandish and she knew that. She had to stand out to a certain degree if she expected the world to see what the underground world feared. Fear, she thought. Fear is what kept her on top, and she had the firepower to back it up.

The sound of music coming from the back room brought her back to her senses. It was that annoying shit with the bells and chants that Ghale always blasted in the afternoons on his break. Even though Pavarthi hated it, she hadn’t bothered to tell him to stop listening to it. Tanisha didn’t like it either–too old-fashioned, too conservative. She was always a new age kind of gal. Her forbearing and dominating personality is what attracted Parvathi the most. She looked up at the sign once again. “ADHIKARI MOTORS” it screamed back. She thought of her father, then of her mother, then of Tanisha, then of herself, then of Ghale’s music. One thing at a time.

She slipped her aviators off and marched into the back room past some of her workers fixing various scooters.

Aside from some neon eyesores, it was dark and smelled of weed. Ghale was seated next to his radio with a Sterling submachine gun draped over his shoulder and a joint plucked under his moustache.

“Need me to take down the sign today?” he quipped.

“Turn off the fucking music,” she snapped.

“But it’s about to get the best part!” he protested, shaking his arms cartoonishly to the beat. “You gotta feel the music, Pavarthi!”

She suddenly pulled out the collapsible knife from a pocket in her coverall and carefully and nonchalantly made a clean cut from Ghale’s wrist to his shoulder. The thin, reddish line soon oozed out onto the floor. He cried out in pain and gripped his arm, heaving and aching.

“I’m not in the mood, you ape,” she growled. “Turn off the fucking music!”

Ghale nodded steadfastly. “S-sorry,” he cried. “I got a little carried away.”

“Damn right you did. No more of that garbage!”

She tucked the knife back into her pocket and noticed two other armed men watching with shock and awe on the other couch as they counted stacks of money next to meticulously wrapped baggies of pure white goodness.

“Get off your fucking asses and bandage him up before he bleeds all over my father’s shop!”

They scurried away and dragged Ghale along with them.

Pavarthi grimaced at the bloodstain on her coverall. She scratched her hooked nose–the one thing she was selfconscious of–and tried to remember how much Tanisha had told her she loved it. Yes, Tanisha. It was hard being away from her. The image of her father crept back into her mind and cast a shadow of dejection over her. It was five hours till closing time, but maybe she could leave and visit Tanisha at the gardens where they had shared their first kiss under the stars to the tune of “Dancing Queen,” coincidentally before she herself had become a queen, as the trains rattled past and past and past to the next city over where police would soon find her grisly handiwork.

“I salute you, Mother!” they would soon cry.

Soon they would all salute her.

27

Body Tremors Tyler Dale

Heaving, shaking, to-and-fro Back and forth, side-to-side Hold my hand through them Everything is cascaded in neon green Yet you are illuminated in that bluish hue You, yes you I want to tell you that I love you Hold me close, hold me tight Please don’t let me slip away into the night Body tremors Helluva thing You’re my beacon I can't tell you the things I want to say

28

Requiem (the final chapter or really where it all began) Ava Briccetti Even as she dies the flowers celebrate; each Trillium a different mourning call.

An array of tiny ballerinas bent delicately towards the flaming sun.

While spring waits for the does’ tracks to disappear, fire rises over the hillside and refracted flames drip into hollowed palms.

As silent dew collects on the edges of her sunken cheeks, I envy the birth of a buckhis antlers forged from the burning cross.

Tucked away in the grass, she lays.

Bound by a Birthroot that gives life as quickly as it takes it away.

29

She believed with conviction she was tethered to a celestial body For how did her light dim in perfect synchronicity?

She knew Every time she looked to the moon Slowly, she’d come back to full too

Grace Condon

30

To: All the women who deny themselves, or don’t even know what they want for themselves, who have been too caught up in being something for someone else— Progress isn’t becoming prettier. It’s becoming wiser with your energy. That’s real beauty.

Reconcile the voices in your head. Give them less jurisdiction. Many were not planted by you.

Silence is more valuable than pettiness. You deserve more than unnecessary resentment and criticism. Loving yourself is... telling yourself that regardless of what you’ve accomplished, it’s okay to relax your shoulders. Go outside and enjoy the sun. It’s okay to come back to what you are working on later. You are worthy of more than worry. You are worthy of patienc and calm. They ask too much of us. We don’t have to conform to when you no longer are the career woman, the scholar, the creative, the mother, wife, cook, homemaker, and the world forgets you, you’ll have much more to remember yourself by. You’ll see yourself in the ivy that climbs up brick buildings, in the kids’ laughter playing in the street, in the flowers you take home from the supermarket. You’ll see your innocence, your beauty, your expansion, that you are more than one thing or anything. You are free. Do you see the value in treating something so precious with care? Be wiser with your energy.

Grace Condon

31

Drowning in a Bathroom I imagine this is what drowning feels like.

Or suffocating.

My lungs are still breathing.

In and out, in and out.

But each breath I pull, the less I take.

The panic arrives when the ache doesn’t ease, no matter how many breaths I keep taking in.

I can’t stop the feeling of being trapped or stuck or never coming back from this setting in and engulfing me.

My lungs are still breathing, but I’m falling fast and not moving at all and still fighting for that one breath that can save me, but the panic is fully settled deep inside me and I can't possibly know what to do next.

My hands are tight around the icy, porcelain sink – holding me up as I forfeit my whole weight onto this tiny, white thing.

Hard, brown eyes, stare back into mine.

They’re telling me to get a grip, but how could I possibly “get a grip” when I am drowning from the inside out right here on this bathroom floor.

Julia DiGeronimo

32

Niñez Faltaba poco, Pero sabía que con cada paso, y arrastro Los dibujos hechos de tiza que vivían en la vereda se irían desvaneciendo Translation: Childhood Little was left, But I knew that With the scuff of each footstep The chalk drawings That lived on the sidewalk Would slowly fade away

Guadi Fanelli

33

Graverobbers

Billy Lemon was the first to strike the ground with his shovel. The dirt was fresh, but not fresh enough.

They were in for a real challenge. Jebediah was a little further away from the dirt mound, leaning against the Oldsmobile and looking up at the stars with a sort of whimsical look on his face. The cosmos fascinated him as much as they would fascinate anyone else. What lies beyond our reach? He often wondered. Jebediah’s look of wonder soon shifted as he remembered something that he’d been trying to keep out of his mind.

“Ah, shit.” He grumbled. It wasn’t an aggressive “Ah, shit!” It sounded more defeated.

“Could use some help, you know,” Billy muttered out loud.

“Ah, shit,” Jeb repeated to himself. “Man…. Billy what do you think she meant?”

“Who meant what exactly?”

“Ella-Mae! What do you think she meant?” Jeb was desperate for a little color commentary on Billy Lemon’s part. Unfortunately, Billy hadn’t been listening on the car ride to the field.

“Eh, sounds as simple as it can be, I guess,” Billy said half-assedly, figuring a generic response such as this would entertain Jeb enough to put his mind at ease. He was wrong.

“I just….man, I just can’t get it out of my head!” Jeb exclaimed. He gently tapped his shovel against the earth and put his hand on his hip. “I mean, there’s all kinds of ways to love someone, right? She could have meant I love you like we were siblings or something. But, she could have meant actual love, right?”

Billy quietly groaned to himself. Too much talking, not enough digging. But he knew Jeb, and he knew there wasn’t gonna be any diggin’ until Jeb got his piece of mind or Billy gave him a piece of his. Either way, the digging would take forever.

“Do you love her more as a sibling then, Jeb?” Billy asked with genuine interest as he continued digging into the earth.

“No, no!” Jeb coughed. “’Course not!”

“Do you show her that you only love her within the idea that the two of you are siblings?”

“Well,” Jeb said whilst trying to wrap his head around the slightly strange way Billy had worded that question.

“No, I guess not.”

“Similar question now Jeb,” Billy said with a hint of annoyance. “Has she done that?”

“Nah,” Jeb said. “No, she hasn’t. Fact, she’s been awfully over-affectionate.”

“Then there you have it!” Billy said, hitting the ground with some extra elbow grease on that last word. “She loves you because she loves you.”

Jeb chuckled to himself and curiously twirled the shovel in his hands.

“Love is a crazy, confusing thing, Billy.”

“Indeed it is, Jebediah.”

The two men returned to their work like brothers in arms. It didn't take long for them to strike what they were looking for. Billy laughed a little to himself; he always forgot it takes less time than he expects it to take.

“This is always the hardest part for me.” Jeb sighed.

“It's a hard way of living.” Billy replied. “May the Devil damn us.”

He threw the shovel up out of the sizeable hole they'd dug and listened to it crash into the ground. Jeb looked back up at the stars as Billy started to break open the coffin. He found so much solace in the nighttime sky–about as much solace as he got in Ella-Mae's arms. The box was open now, but Jeb didn't care. He didn't care about much else at the moment except for Ella-Mae. “Ah, pixie dust.” Billy muttered to himself as he plucked a rusted locket from the corpse.

Jeb felt his eyes become wet.

“I hope to be the man I need to be for her, Billy.”

“God forgive you then. Let the Devil damn me, old friend.”

Tyler Dale

34

I Can't Sleep Tyler Dale Lorelei Horrell “Sea Shift” I can't sleep Too many things on my mind All the things I want to say All the things I wanted to say All the things I need to say All the things I feel All my feelings come back to you I can't sleep My head is spinning It's too hot Point that fucking fan towards my face– This shit doesn't do anything I'm tossing and turning now All the things keeping me awake Shut out that light and turn off that phone!

But what if it's you messaging me?

I can't sleep All the things on my mind Why is this so hard?

I just want to sleep But I want to tell you how I feel Tell you all the things I want to say All the things I want to say All the things I want to feel Those assholes downstairs are yelling more Fuck me and fuck this Would seeing you even help?

Maybe, maybe not Either way I don't hate I just can't sleep I can't sleep

35

“Sea Shift”

Daphne picked at a splinter in her left index finger. The skin was burning red, but she didn’t know where

her tweezers had gone. It was possible one of the other maids had borrowed them. Or they had just gotten lost in the daily shuffle of the castle.

After their night at battle, the sea shift women had come back to their rooms to scrape off the blood and salt. The sun was rising hot and bright, and Daphne watched with jealousy as they walked to bed. She was getting ready to leave the maids’ quarters and start her shift in the kitchen when someone nudged her elbow. Across the narrow hallway stood a small woman, Kathryn, in a blue dress and white apron with a shadow slicing across her face.

“Did you hear about what they saw?”

The last of the sea shift came through the hall, pushing the two apart, so Daphne paused. Kathryn and Daphne had started work at the same time and trained together. A maid should be neither seen nor heard, they were taught.

So they had long understood each other more in silence than in speaking. Once the stragglers were out of sight, Daphne looked at Kathryn and shook her head.

“Something big, I heard,” Kathryn whispered. “That’s why they’re all so quiet today.”

“Did it see them back?”

Kathryn nodded, her knuckles white around the belt of her apron. A bell rang somewhere, and Daphne hurried away without saying goodbye. Kathryn did the same.

The rest of the castle was noisier, but no one else paused to speak to Daphne like Kathryn had. The maids were a serious bunch. They were always in mourning. So Daphne was left alone all day to stew over the new monster.

Dark things in the sea, scaly and cold—they had all seen them. Trade ships fled the harbor without leaving behind the goods they had traveled to deliver. The kingdom’s best sailors, who had survived in new lands without so much as a map, were found drowned in the morning if they dared to stay out after sunset. These creatures were a blight on the legacy of the land.

The people asked, who among us can be responsible for filth while maintaining a certain sense of pride? The answering question: Who can clean vomit in the washroom one moment and go to dress royalty the next? The maids had discipline. And most of all, they were good cleaners. They needed to be cleaned after, these creatures.

But for the maids, it wasn’t all somber and death. Details had come together over the years. They had learned, adapted, and grown strong. They found out that the creatures could be lured by human blood and couldn’t see well in the dark. That they were strong, but not fast. That they could, in fact, be killed.

36

Each night, the sun set. The sea shift rowed out in their wooden boats and held their breath. Each day, the sun rose.

Some maids never returned, and new girls became maids in their place. Older women, the survivors, taught their daughters how they could be the killers.

Daphne had not chosen to be a maid, but she liked cleaning just fine. She was scrubbing one of the kitchen

sinks, admiring the way the surface shined after her sponge passed over it. She squinted to see a hint of her own reflection as if she was looking into the waves, trying to find a creature lurking below the surface. She caught her own eye in the reflection for a moment and smiled. She wished to be on the sea shift.

Every day at lunchtime the sea shift list was posted in the maids’ quarters. Daphne never knew if it was punishment, reward, or random chance, but she had never been assigned to go out on the boat. She wanted to be assigned. In her mind, she begged for it. Every time she checked the list, she crossed her fingers in her apron pocket, feeling waves welling up inside her chest and crashing against her rib cage.

The same today: a white piece of paper with scrolling writing, tacked to the wall opposite the windows. The maids lined up one by one, scanning and hoping, one way or the other. Only enough to fill one wooden boat were selected, a very rare fate—but still, a fate for maids alone.

Daphne stepped up to the list, running her splintered finger down the names, hoping to get caught on her

own. She did not. She hadn't been selected.

She stepped to the side, keeping her face neutral, and began picking at the splinter again. The list was no matter.

The maids minded their own affairs. She just hoped she would get another glimpse of the beast tonight.

Lorelei Horrell

37

Impulsive Crave

By Annelisa Milano Wrap me up while I crumble, while I fall apart In the hollowness of my tears. Let me sink.

Where have you gone, if not everywhere but here.

My eyes scan every billboard, every screen That your lips are painted on, searching for those Cigarettes that make my lungs black with obsession.

Pretty girl, kill me soft and slow.

Look at you, up on that stage, talking like you got a clue.

I want to hear that voice, I want to eat up what you say, and Throw it up in a lonely stall. Look at that blonde hair Falling down your back. I want to run my hands through it, and Rip it out. Give me your spotless skin, your tapered nose.

Give me a chance To put on a mask and disappear into the illusion of your world.

Though I still draw breath, allow me to die by these desires.

Pretty girl, kill me soft and slow.

And so this is what it’s come to; standing on your porch, Unsuspecting of me across the street, fingers grazing What rests in my pocket. Finally, I see you for what you are, In flesh before me, I’m thirsty for your touch.

Wrap me up while I hold your body, while I shut your eyes In the lake of your existence— you drained of life, and I of envy.

38

Dead Old Men Joshua Pantano The old, beat-up gunslinger walked out into the open square that afternoon with a gun on his hip that he had fired a thousand times before. The people in the town watched the bearded, dirty-faced man stand alone with a hole-riddled poncho draped over him, and his right hand hung low, vaguely swinging over his holster. Across from him, fifty meters away, five outlaws stood in place.

“You’ve done us a disservice, old man!” one of them yelled.

The outlaw wore a black, short-brimmed hat that looked almost brand new. His eyes were bright and vibrant but tainted by the allure of outlaw life. They glimmered underneath the hot desert sun.

A scar marked the outlaw’s face, colored a bright red, and ran down the side of his forehead like a streak of blood. It hadn’t been there long. The gunslinger could hardly bring himself to notice these details, but usually found himself able to notice anything other than a gun. He stood in place and muttered to himself.

When the gunslinger didn’t respond, the baby-faced outlaw cried out again, “I said you’ve done us a disservice! And you’re about to pay for it.” He signaled behind him. “If y’all could-?”

The four people behind him stepped forward. A thin, wiry man with an aged military cap held a rifle at his side and stood at attention as though the echoes of military life still rang through his skull. Two other men, almost identical in appearance, but much shorter than the wiry man, wore long, dragging coats and had faces burnt from the sun. They each carried dual pistols with long, smooth barrels. The last member, a woman with a partially shaved head and a pair of large, puffy pants, held a shotgun over one shoulder. She spit something into the dirt.

They stood in a straight line, completely separate from one another, yet entirely united under one goal.

Their leader smiled again. He kicked the ground, and with a single hand, reached under his short, brown coat. He pulled out a shiny revolver. The gunslinger kept his hand over his holster.

“This is your last chance!” the leader yelled. “We ain’t scared of you any longer! You think you can run us out of this town again?”

No response.

With a furious frown that quickly shifted upwards into a toothy grin, the leader whistled. The four members of the gang stepped forward and aimed their weapons at the gunslinger. He didn’t move.

A silence tore through the air while people watched from their homes and shop windows. Complete silence. And then, a bell rang in the distance.

The gunslinger reached for his gun and moved it out of his holster without any sense of urgency. It dragged on the leather. Before he could point the weapon at any of the outlaws, the leader yelled, “Fire!” and they unloaded on him. Countless bullets flew at him and caused him to slip and stagger backwards. Bullet shells dropped from the outlaws’ weapons. The gunslinger throttled back and forth as he tried to maintain his stance, but quickly discovered that he couldn’t. He flopped to the ground like a dead fish as his gun skidded across the dirt. He hadn’t fired a single bullet.

The barrage of bullets came to a quick, sudden end. The leader of the outlaws began

39

to say something, but the gunslinger didn’t hear him. A familiar pain caressed and choked him as darkness shrouded his view. Before he disappeared from that moment, he heard one more word: “-again!”

The dirty old man laid dead in the town square for at least six hours, untouched by a single person. Nobody, not even a curious child, wanted to poke around his corpse that didn’t seem to rot right away. Instead, he looked like he had fallen asleep, only with eleven holes in his chest and a patch of red dirt underneath him.

Hours later, when the moon cradled the sky and not a whisper of noise could be heard throughout the town, the gunslinger woke up. A terrible pain burned in his chest then gradually subsided.

He laid in the dirt with old blood on his face and clothes. Holes riddled his poncho and shirt, but there were no longer any holes in his body. Instead, spots of new, baby-like skin appeared where the bullets had once entered his chest. The gunslinger felt something trapped in his chest and hacked and coughed as hard as he could until it finally came up his throat. He spit it out. In the dirt, covered in blood and mucus, were bullet casings.

He sighed a breath of relief and rolled over onto his back. He placed a gentle hand on his face.

It felt smoother, maybe a few weeks younger. The death had been worth it, he assured himself.

And tomorrow, there’d be another one, and another, and another, until he was finally back to his prime. With his body, mind, and soul rejuvenated, he got up and walked away into the distance, completely sure of his destiny. He’d be back.

40

Miss Perfect “Ms. Rose is so cool! I hope I can be as successful as her one day…” Lucy chuckled to herself, hearing her young coworker praise her so highly as she passed by.

Just 25 years ago, Lucille Rose was born as the youngest of three children in the Rose family, raised in comfortable suburbia with two rowdy older brothers who were always on her nerves. Growing up with older brothers taught her to be tough, although not in the traditional tomboy-ish way one might expect. No, quite to the contrary, she carried herself with an elegant, lady-like presence befitting of a queen. She took pride in it from an early age, her own act of rebellion against her brothers’ disgraceful “manly” behavior and ideals.

God, she hated men.

Well, she couldn’t care less about her brothers these days. She had long since proven herself to be leagues better than them, earning endless praise not only from her parents, but from practically everyone around her. She was only 3 years out of college and already a high-ranking executive in the marketing department of Solstice, a trendy clothing brand selling garments with a luxury look and feel for a fraction of the price. It had grown especially popular with ambitious young businesswomen, much like Lucy herself, and she took full advantage of her position, effectively becoming the public face for the company’s advertisements.

She had begun marketing herself as an ideal, a beacon of success for other women to strive for, and she constantly worked overtime to bring the company to even greater heights.

Sales had never been higher.

“Oh my god, have you seen Ms. Rose’s garden? I passed by her house the other day and she added another flower bush! They are so gorgeous!”

Lucy sighed in relief as she lowered herself into her desk chair. She had worked herself to the bone on her garden yesterday, and now her back and feet were positively killing her! Oh, how she loved that garden, to go to such great lengths for it!

It was her pride and joy, an idyllic explosion of color adorning her splendid home. It was a small, modest little place, but one that she owned, all by herself.

No boyfriend, no kids, no pets. It was just her. She thought it suited her perfectly. Having no one waiting at home was perfect for when she worked overtime.

At her age, such a thing as owning a whole house was practically a miracle. And yet, here it was: her adorable little cottage, any classy woman’s dream. Of course, the property was very expensive, but she got paid a damn good wage and she had lucked out when she found it. The previous owner apparently had suffered an unfortunate death in his immediate family and needed to sell the house fast, dropping the price to practically dirt cheap to get it off his hands. It was an astounding deal.

41

She wondered if her natural fertilizer had helped her newest bush grow such beautiful blossoms so quickly.

“You know that pain in the ass manager that always gave us a hard time? I heard Ms. Rose got her fired! She’s so cool, getting shitty people fired just like that! I wish I could have as much influence as her!”

Lucy wiped her hands off with a handkerchief. They always got so messy after a long day’s work!

She was still just one executive, but she had already decided this office was her own. She wouldn’t let anyone disturb her sweet, innocent young coworkers, and she sure as hell wouldn’t let anyone oppose her or threaten her position. It was all too easy to get what she wanted with a bit of sweet talk and coercion. And so, in no time at all, she had become the de facto queen of Solstice.

My, that stain in her blouse just would not come out no matter how many times she washed it! How terribly annoying...she had loved that blouse. She’d have to be more conscious of what she was wearing next time she worked overtime. She couldn’t go around ruining all of her nice clothes!

“Hey, is it just me or does Ms. Rose look kinda sick today? Is something up with her?”

This just wouldn’t do at all. Lucille Rose was perfect. Letting herself look so disheveled...what was she doing with herself!? Just because she was stressed out didn’t mean she could look like this! She had an image to uphold! And yet, President Freesia breathing down her neck just pissed her off so much!

Damn that bitch of a President...didn’t she know Lucy was the real face of this company?

“Hey, did you hear- oh, good morning, President Rose!”

Lucille Rose was the President of Solstice. But of course she was. She did everything for this company. Anyone else being in the position would just be silly.

Three weeks ago, Lucy had decided to add some freesias to her garden. They were blooming splendidly.

“Jessica, you aren’t going to believe this...I...I walked past President Rose’s house last night and I...I thought I heard screams…”

Lucy was standing in the corner past the water cooler. She crushed her cup with a vice-like grip, spilling water all over herself. Well, this was quite the predicament. It seemed she’d have to work overtime again tonight.

“Please...please...I won’t tell anyone…! Please don’t hurt me!”

What an irritating scream this girl had. And here Lucy had thought she was one of the good ones, one who had looked up to her so much. What a shame it was...

42

Oh well, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do! She had made sure to wear an appropriate red tshirt this time.

She sighed. Digging a hole was always the hardest part of overtime. Oh, but soon, her garden would look even lovelier, fertilized with this fresh hunk of meat she dragged out of her back door!

Callie had always loved tulips. She would surely be happy to fertilize a vibrant rainbow of them.

Yes, her wish had been granted. She had always been enchanted by Ms. Rose’s mystical garden, her beloved pride and joy. Now Callie too could contribute to its beauty.

Lucille Rose was simply perfect. She swiftly eliminated anyone who caused her trouble, and with each one, added even more elegance to her gorgeous home.

Living such a perfect life, how could anyone not love her?

Cassandra Raineault

43

The Lion’s Den

The writer stumbled out of the den and into the alleyway. He appeared to be struggling to light the pipe hanging limply from under his large handlebar moustache with one hand, while clutching a present covered in outlandish blue wrapping paper and gold ribbons under his other arm. Dried tobacco leaves flew about, and speckled his all-black suit. The tobacco didn’t taste as good as whatever scientific tomfuckery he just had in the den, but perhaps that’s why he was smoking it now. Better get off this high as soon as possible, and move onto the next one. The sky was asleep, but the skylines weren’t. Neon lights continued to beckon him from around the corners of the darkened alleyway. Which color of the rainbow would he pursue now?

“Pardon me, miss,” the writer said to no one. He had finally gotten the pipe lit and waves of smoke erupted into his face just as he crashed into a nearby dumpster. Not his finest moment. In fact, this wasn’t his finest day. Or was it not his finest week? Time is irrelevant when you’re in the den.

Coughing and mumbling, delirious and focused, the writer shambled along like a shadow in the night. The sound of his leather shoes scraping on the gravel surrounded him. Hearing colors and feeling sounds, the writer thought. Christ! I’m losing it! He kicked a random bottle into one of the buildings to his left and watched it shatter. The urge to fight was strong. Better avoid the sidewalks; better avoid the people. Keep to the darkness. He pushed the edge of the present deeper into the gap between his ribs.

The city was a bleak, unforgiving creation. Cool, twilight wind bit his skin and bones without shame, burrowing its way into every orifice of his body and chilling him to the point of unrelenting pain.

He had lost the rainbow at some point in his walk. Further ahead, the men were waiting for him. The writer spied them like a disturbed lion, beads of sweat and drool rolling down to his chin. He recognized the man in the middle. The bloated director he had been saddled with for his project, standing erect with his red bottle and white beard.

“We’ve been waiting,” the director chimed. He threw the bottle.

“What was it,” the writer managed to spit, “that Michelangelo said of Raphael? You might as well be the chief of police with such an ensemble.”

The director was stone-faced. “And did Raphael not see Michelangelo as an executioner? After all, they’re fit for walking alone at night given that all they bring is death.”

“Fuck you” the writer said after the wind brought his senses back. Why had he said that? The men around the director became more alert. Two had knives, the third had a metal pipe. The writer continued glaring intensely. It didn’t help that his oily, yellowish skin, untamed hair, and low-pitched groans only made him seem like a starved animal even more.

The director pulled out a pistol. No rest for the wicked in the land of stars and egos. The writer stood idly with his nose.

“Do you want to die?”

Good question. The writer thought. Vigilance was exhausting. He was a pale outcast in a strange land. He was out in the open. Exposed. His only source of solitude was now on the opposite side of the

44

country it seemed, and all manner of fears had now sprung upon him. Should have found the sidewalks.

Should have gone back home and left the palm trees behind. There was no telling who was watching him or who had control.

“My mother is dead,” the writer said, holding up the present. “I’d like to go home now and see what's been left. It’s been a few weeks.”

The writer held the present even tighter than before. He noticed that the director’s eyes were bloodshot.

The den had gotten him too. No rest for the talented. He coughed before hocking a foul, steaming spitball into the night.

“Well then,” The director said. “That’s that.”

The writer walked out into the street. The director and his crew stuck to the alleyway.

Keep to the light. Stay out of the den.

Yes, mother.

Tyler Dale

45

I’ve Never Really Known You

By Gabrielle Topping Don’t you want him to be happy?

Yeah, of course. But not at the expense of my happiness.

Not when my unhappiness causes them happiness.

It’s not worth it. The price is too high.

Why should I care about his feelings when he doesn't care about mine?

I don’t hate you.

But it stings that you don’t care-if I do or don’t.

The fact that you thought through your actions, And intentionally followed through with them anyway.

It wasn’t a mistake.

It was a decision.

It was a conscious choice.

I’ve tried to defend you.

I’ve tried to rationalize your behavior in my head.

I’ve tried to just let this be “normal.”

Lots of people have it worse-I know that.

But still it doesn’t justify the way you’ve treated me.

You’ve had it worse.

You know how it feels.

And yet you’re repeating this dysfunctional pattern.

I wish you the best. I really do.

But not at the expense of my happiness.

We’ll have to carry on in this new “normal.”

I’ve accepted that we can’t change what you’ve already done.

But we can change how the rest of this story unfolds.

It’s been a bumpy road filled with unexpected potholes But I hope that the damage can be repaired.

I don’t like this version of you, but I know there’s a better one.

I’ve seen glimpses of it over the years.

I’ve never really known you, But I’d like to.

46

Portrait of a Woman in a Dark Room: One hand covers the eye— Its wrinkled knuckles painted stark white Visible ancient eye rimmed by soot From a forgotten fire Scar, leaking from the corner where tears would come If she could cry The lighting cascade shape of it reaches to the temple Maybe worship there, by the cortex Low light flowing Brown eye simmering in it Just the corners of her mouth tremble Slightly open lips hungrily breathe pockets of dark air Drowning in starless skies Pantomiming spotlights blaze down from heaven Shine her into tetraplegia So she stands there calcified, alone

Ryan Vincent

47

Office Lullaby:

Beneath black skies and adjacent to a stretch of potholed highway, Rich let himself into the law offices of Angelou and Martinez through a window with no screen and loose screws along its frame. It was a small office with runny grey paint on its walls; the textured bumps of air bubbles trapped within the pigment like fossilized amber.

There were three floors. The first being a small lobby and reception area. This is where Rich found his way in—the window above the long couch for clients that need a place to sit. This was a nice setup because he could flounder his way through the window all he wanted and still end up falling onto a moderately comfortable canvas couch.

Tonight, he did flounder, sprawling onto the material with a quick exhalation that edged him further into exhaustion than he had been in weeks. Rich fought the urge to try and fall asleep right there in the front office, caught red handed at 6:45 in the morning when the blonde woman named Franchesca came in first thing to start the mail route throughout the building—a routine Rich had observed a few days ago from across the highway with a pair of Lecia Trinovid 10 x 25 binoculars. It was always 6:45 on the dot, and she started from the first floor, then the third, making her way back down in a zig-zag pattern to make sure she hit all the cubicles.

This gave him roughly four hours and two minutes to find a good place to sleep.

He normally went to the third floor for this, but found that being higher up did not necessarily make him more comfortable as he thought it would. It just reminded him of being in a bunk bed with his brother and looking out over the edge of the top, worried that the guard rails were just too small or too fragile to hold up while he dreamed.

Rich didn’t want the first floor either. In the case that he overslept (which he only had done once before, but once was enough), the first floor would be disastrous. The second floor would grant him the most time to realize his mistake and get the hell out of there before Franchesca made her rounds.

He went up the stairs, sleeping bag in hand and pillow tucked under his arm. Sometimes he considered swaddling up in the stairwell and resting there for the night. Something about the echo on the rubber steps, the tight walls, and the cool air was even more solitary in his mind than any room in the building itself. Nonetheless, he knew the neck pain he’d procure if he indulged in this particular desire outweighed the potential benefits.

The second floor were the cubicles for the middle-workers, the ones who didn’t get their own offices like the titular Angelou and Martinez of the law offices of Angelou and Martinez did.

The last time Rich slept here it was in one of the cubicles. Tom Hartman’s, to be exact to the nameplate on the cubicle. He liked how bare it was, how limited and enclosed. There was only one photo of a woman that Rich presumed to be his sister due to the resemblance of their brows and cheekbones, but he could have been mistaken. There was that and a company calendar with all the important dates, which Rich took note of. He thought it was strange they took off Columbus day, but he wasn’t complaining that there were extra days of vacancy.

Rich didn’t want to sleep in Tom Hartman’s cubicle. He rarely liked to sleep in the exact same spot more than once, especially when there were so many other options.

Lisa Hamlin’s was nice enough, but she didn’t clean like the others did, and the last time he checked her spot there were dust bunnies big enough to nibble on carrots lying in the corners of the enclosement.

Henry Polak’s had too many photos of his family. Just walking into the little four-walled space felt loud with all of those memories screaming back at you. Rich would occasionally move objects around to better suit his needs, but a rearrangement of those proportions required some level of precision and memory he did not possess.

Going through the options, Rich found himself settling for the northeast corner of the hallway. Cubicles were too similar and too different, and Rich learned that when he became indecisive it carried on far too long for anything even moderately productive to arise from it. He cut off his self-argument at the root and threw the sleeping bag down on the carpeted floor.

48

It was vacuumed very recently, Rich presumed after spotting the janitorial staff leaving the building last night in their van as he drove by on the highway. That’s what spurred him to give this spot another try, anyways. He was sick of the bigger buildings and their white tile that never came quite as clean as the wetvacced carpets, or at least the carpets had the courtesy of being able to hide small specks of refuse between incomprehensible fibers instead of letting them lie on the whiteness, as loud stains that did not let him sleep.

Rich settled his pillow against the corner of the wall and slid beneath his sleeping bag, taking off his socks and placing them neatly outside the bag. He spread his toes along the cool interior of the sleeping bag, feeling another wave of exhaustion come over him.

He was so excited to be so tired, but had to suppress it so that excitement didn’t transfer into energy of any kind. Rich wanted to be empty.

He hadn’t slept in nearly a week. Rich tried many offices, always getting in, but never able to find sleep when he closed his eyes. This was the worst bout of insomnia he’d had all year, but he figured it to be about time for his luck to run out. Before this particular sleeplessness, he had even started to remember his dreams in the morning. Now, it was just darkness and the eventual transition to light.

Rich never held a job in an office. It was only by happenstance did he trespass within one a few years prior and discovered their loveliness at night, their rhythmic cadence of abandonment that hushed him to sleep like a mother’s humming lullaby. There were no places in the city like these at night that suffered so much quiet.

Rich shivered beneath the covers like a cold, thin wave had washed over him. He ached for sleep, he ached for sleep like one aches for a lost lover when spotting their silhouette in a pillow by their resting head. He felt compelled to fall into some kind of endless pit just so the blackness below could be so complete, so abject and solid, that he would sleep in it as the air became his cushions.

Thinking of this, Rich closed his eyes. The alarm on his watch would wake him up three hours and forty-eight minutes later—three minutes before Francesca would walk in the door. Enough time for him to slip out on the out-of-code fire escape through the window a few feet above him.

A tear welled up in his eye. He wiped it with his shoulder and sniffled. Rich wondered how long it would take him to die if he could not fall asleep. It didn’t feel like it would be long.

But he knew not to think about it too much. Something deep in the building hummed. Rich heard it through closed eyes, and it sang him to sleep.

Ryan Vincent

49

Yesterday’s Shine: Smooth jazz hands Washboard flow Headlamp strapped on uneven Forehead skin Leaky light Peppers black skies Mirage of sun Mirage of light Footfalls on dirt crunch Light seeking cherries Like eyes above their eyes Juice on their fingers Heat falls up Radioactive dirt Leftover burns From yesterday's shine They look for them Along silhouetted bushels And still wind Hot air Cherries, before vengeful morning Burns them away There’s sweat in their eyes

Ryan Vincent

50

Second Summer 06/05/2021-06/18/2021 In the thick of the second summer, The smell of rain hangs high in the air, close to the clouds next to my open window. The fever of a thunderstorm beyond holds my face in its heart-shaped palms.

Mist hangs low in the valley that holds the lake in cupped hands. I have never seen it mist like it does here.

The second summer runs its fingers through my damp hair, as if telling me a promise. The cycle of mist and clouds runs and repeats as the night grows deeper.

A memory from a very long time ago— My shins pressed into the wet grass, stars above.

The Dippers, Cassiopeia faint in my mind.

A book of stars sits on a shelf of my desk.

In the morning, my white t-shirt, grass-stained, on my floor.

I am sitting on the floor with my back against the wall, looking up at you. I reach my hand out. You take what is in it, we touch for a second, and you keep moving.

The second summer is a hundred degrees hot, sticky on my face and the backs of my knees. When I open my door with you close behind me, holding my life in your hands, I see the blood-gold sun streaming through my window from all angles like a flare, coating all four walls of my room in a bright, thick syrup. The still, hot air holds the sticky smell of sugar from ripe fruit. Groceries that need to be put away lie helter-skelter on my floor: peaches, strawberries, cilantro, granola, peanut butter, bananas, limes, peppers. My dirty shoes are untied. Fresh bug bites cover my shins. Every strand of my hair is a flyaway, caught in the humidity. Behind me, pink carnations sit in a glass jar on my windowsill, watching, knowing. Your silhouette stays on my closet doors.

A song of the second summer, you play the piano on my back.

Four hours away and over twelve hours earlier, my friend drove to New York City to see someone who loves her. She kisses him when I kiss you.

For the length of the days that follow, I wish to tell you, softly, Come here.

Alone now, I lay on my back in bed and listen to the cars outside. Gold lights of the city glimmer through the trees. My eyes search the dark.

The humidity of the second summer breaks. The spaces between the trees fill with mist, and it pours and pours. The earth cools. The forest across from my room looks like a jungle, the sun shines like a halo above the horizon, lightning strikes a pink cloud in the sky. The rain falling straight down on the rooftop seems to be demanding attention, while inside, your fingers drum the surface of my skin, quieter, closer, slower than the rain. My head switches between the lethargy of your fingers on my back and the urgency of the rain, Your fingers and the rain.

51

I see you for an incomplete second, outside my door, half of your face looking through the frame. The moment flutters like a small bird, and then it is gone.

In a dream, I am sitting on the floor with my back against the wall, eating strawberries, looking up at you. I hand you one. You take it, and you look at me.

In the middle of a night of the second summer, the air moves. Our clothes cover the floor and the moonlight covers our clothes.

If you ever come out with me at 7:00 on an evening of the second summer, I will show you the secrets I see every night: daisies congregating in expanses of Indian grass, honeysuckle bushes growing tall, bird calls, breeze blowing in the direction of the sunset, replacing the humidity.

The breeze blows away another day of the second summer. The sun sets behind a building. A claw scratch moon hangs in the quiet sky.

The second summer Left as it came— raining down From tall thunderheads Collecting as mist in the bowl of my memory, held by cupped hands.

Greta Unetich

52

Second Summer (Reprise) 06/27/2021-07/10/2021 At the ends of my heartstrings, a couple of stars hang in space.

Getting ready for bed together— A sacred thing.

In the night, two small chips of aquamarine, Two soft and silver spoons.

For a short second, you look back at me, and the sun haloes your hair.

Your eyes, two blue dishes.

You have crossed, with me, from one life into the next. My hand closes around yours, around me.

If I see you again, you will be my miracle person.

Your eyes are two memories that demand to be recalled.

Next, I will start believing that they are stars.

I have wanted you for longer than I remembered. You are why I have found myself back here.

Alive in the corners of my mind.

Love is, like all else, A wound, Sitting up, waiting, A clear and starry night, A bowl of bright red cherries.

Stay here for an evening when it rains.

You can smell the mist through the window.

The weather will be perfect.

For the first time in over a week, the sun shines past 5:00pm. Somewhere, I can hear cars driving on a road I cannot see.

In July of the second summer, we walk into the woods to talk about us, To tell each other stories.

Two hearts break and come back together.

I convince myself that the woods at the turn of day to dusk is a dream, glittering in the back of my eyes.

53

The thunderstorms of the second summer are incessant and persistent, Coming down hard, Dancing in the wide puddles in the parking lot, Illuminated only by the streetlights.

What are you doing when it’s raining sideways?

In the dying sun of an evening of the second summer, I watch the light alone through my window. For a moment, all I think I am good at is losing love. Then, I go outside and lay on my back in the grass. The sun is still bright. My legs and hands are covered in dirt, and I am laughing.

Greta Unetich

54

Two Colors In My Head The man stared at the screen in front of him, empty in the court’s precedent. But after the sound of three piercing, ringing knocks, the judge spoke, and his words initiated the typing.

This court is now in session.

He typed, and the words appeared. He did his job as the judge continued.

Calling the case of the people versus Edward Decman. Mr. Decman has been charged with the

murder of Sarah Tolve in the first degree.

He just typed.

The bus pulled up in front of him when it was supposed to, and he got on as soon as it was stopped. He had headphones on to mute the sound of the city around him. With his head leaned against the bus window and his eyes closed, as felt right when listening to music, he was taken home submissively.

When he was up in his apartment, he felt the wear of the whole day on his shoulders. But with a light drink before bed, he slept. Leaving his bed the next morning was a strain but the bus left at the same time it did the day before, and he was on it.

The court began with three knocks once again, and he continued typing all the words that were spoken.

He had been a court reporter for many years now, and this meant that the man was well acquainted with the fact that to write words, you had to be aware of the messages they carried. You sensed every word as much as he who said it.

He was familiar with this, but it was different, more difficult this time. He didn’t want them, yet the meanings and implications wrung around inside his head and it could not be helped. But his fingers kept recording, the words just wouldn’t stop, and he was getting sicker and sicker of what he wrote every second. The words he typed were insects that crawled around inside his head.

As the bus moved into its stop, the man found himself craving a drink more than he had in a very long time. He got on and sat down in a subconscious drone of routine. The sun was lowering sooner than he felt it should and when he got home, it took more than one glass for relaxation to settle.

But that was just how it was; some days were harder than others.

The knocking signaled the start of the day again and the man’s head was heavy with a dull pain.

He looked around the room and wondered if everyone or anyone else felt what he felt.

His eyes stopped on the figure behind the wooden table across from him. And it was the first time he took notice of Edward Decman’s stature, his tall and skinny form peering at his hands folded neatly on the table in front of him.

He jerked back to stare at the stenograph screen in his lap. But this made nothing better. His head was splitting.

His teeth rattled inside his skull as the glass of the window shook against it. He couldn’t close his eyes and shut it all out with his headphones this time. His mind raced.

55

The day had nearly been enough to send him over the edge. The little girl. People used her name in the room upwards from fifty times, and he wrote it. But she was dead... and they kept saying Sarah, Sarah Tolve. He didn’t want to write it after five times, after ten, but he had to. Pieces, they kept saying.

The pieces of her they found; ears, teeth, fingers. It was all grotesque. And they just kept saying it.

He raised his headphones’ volume, but his thoughts only mutated.

His sister had taken a different path in life. Singing, as the others in her band made music. He was well familiar with the effect music had on people’s lives.

His head painfully rattling against the window, he enviously thought, she makes them remember there’s a good side.

He badly needed a drink when he got home. He saw in his head that the pages were full and yet kept on filling and filling and he couldn’t stop seeing it, so he drank.

Drinking. Drowning out. Drowning out.

It just kept going. They talked. And he typed.

Why the hell am I here? Are these old bastards gonna forget the filthy shit that’s coming

out of their mouths?

They heard none of this, for it was thought, and lost. But their words were imprinted and left to stay.

He grimaced and thought, Well if they ever think about forgetting, don’t worry. I’ll be here to let them know how the world is.

There was a new development in the court today. A camera that someone brought out from somewhere.

Decman sat, unbreathing. The stream of words flinging through the air only thickened with the camera’s arrival, and the man’s heart froze.

I’m not writing that, he thought.

I’m not, fucking, writing that shit.

The man struggled against each syllable, but he typed it all.

And everything was dreadful.

He didn’t leave the courtroom as soon as the session was over that evening. Instead, he watched as Decman rose and left the room, opening the doors from the hall.

After today’s events, the evidence from witnesses, the repetition of the girl’s name and now of the camera, and mentions of fingerprints... It seemed unlikely that Decman would ever do so again in quite the same way.

The man peered on as Decman walked down the corridor.

And the man followed him. *** He made a slow trip to the freezer after his door creaked and shut behind him. Staring inside at the white light for a moment, he wondered what his sister was playing right then.

56

He grabbed all the bottles that were left in the freezer and didn’t wait until he was in his armchair to feel the slosh of the liquid in his throat.

As it began to rain, he gazed into the darkening city outside his window.

When the first crack of lightning briefly lit the sky, he reached for the paper he had picked up on his long walk back home.

There was only all the same as there ever was in the papers; a train accident, a shooting at a breakfast cafe, the updates on what the top dogs in government thought about the other, slightly lower dogs in government. He kept reading for the friction between the paper and his fingers more so than for the stories described in the infinite tiny black letters.

He put the paper down.

Rain splashed against the window and he took another drink.

When he threw the paper onto the coffee table in front of him and lowered the bottle in his hand, now emptied, his fading gaze suddenly stopped on a photograph just now made visible from behind the folded front pages. The photograph peered out from the bottom right corner of the back page, showing people standing and smiling - in a lawn? - a fence behind them - one younger - sitting on the grass. The girl smiled at a yellow Labrador which gazed up at her from her lap.

The man leaned over to hold the paper up to his eyes and surveyed the words under the photograph.

When he was done, he leaned back again and listened to the sound of the rain.…

Then he put his bottle down carefully, and the paper down more carefully, stood, walked to the kitchen, and concealed a blade in his coat pocket before he left.

The buildings loomed higher than ever as the elevator descended. The streets were empty at the dark of the hour and rain echoed infinitely as he stepped onto the pavement and lifted his umbrella.

Damp air filled his lungs and he felt lighter.

Only a few steps later, he began a deep hum to the sound from the headphones over his ears.

When he arrived at the house, there was little light around save from a lamp post a few dozen meters down the walkway.

At first, the man was unsure of himself. He looked at his shoes on the ground and up to the light a few houses down from here. But only a few moments passed before there was a sound.

A rattling alerted the man to a presence behind the door. He swiftly moved behind the other side of a car parked on the street, and the door opened. A figure emerging from the house jangled a key into his coat pocket and opened an umbrella as he stepped down from the door.

Unaware he was being watched and carefully considered, Decman began down the sidewalk. He didn’t notice the shadow following behind him quietly, quietly...

The man stabbed him and Decman slumped to the ground.

So simply, and it was over.

For a long moment, the man stood and watched as Decman quietly struggled. Fullness in his eyes only returned when a distant roll of thunder awoke him, to realize that Decman, bleeding, had turned over to look up at him.

They faced each other.

And then Decman spoke.

57

You want a confession.

He smiled for the wrong reason for people to smile.

I did it. Yeah I did it. I chopped her up into those little pieces. So bad her family wouldn’t have

recognized her if she wasn’t dead in her own bed. Her bitch dog tried to stop me but I did it.

The blood seeping across the street thickened steadily.

But, you know, I did all that only after I used her f Shut the fuck up, the man interrupted but then found his tongue caught in the back of his throat.

He couldn’t think of what else he wanted to say. The infinite things he wanted to say.

Shut up, Edward.

There was only the sound of rain. …

They’ll have you for this. You’ll face the same thing I did. You stupid jackass. And it’s funny... I

don’t think you’re really fucked up. Not like me.

Laughter.

Does that surprise you? That I know what I am? ‘Cause I guess most of us... what? looneys?

Don’t know we have a problem. But listen to me say it, listen. I’m fucked up!

He laughed again...

Well, of course you know.

...and the man was sick to his stomach.

I mean... I put photos of a dead little girl online for christ’s sake!

They waited in the blanket of rain as it seemed to begin easing off of the earth. ...

Then the man spoke.

We’re all a little fucked up, Eddie. But I’m not going to watch while you tell the world that that’s

the biggest side of me. You’re not inside my head, Eddie. I choose what’s in my head. And let me

tell you. It sure as FUCK! ISN’T going to be YOU!

He unplugged his headphones and the music faintly lingered within the sound of rain on the ground.

He held the phone to Decman’s temple.

This, you hear this? This is music, Eddie. It’s good, you know. I’d say damn near beautiful...

A light turned on in a building window behind him.

Look, Eddie. The world, and the people!

He gestured to the lights as more and more began turning on across the sides of buildings.

Look at the colors out here!

And the stars lighting the sky...

Damn near beautiful.

He set his eyes on the corpse and his pool of blood on the street.

Why are you here?

By Pacifico LoBianco & Will Cherico

58

sawdust

59

Half Baked

One Couple’s Attempt To Ease Financial Concerns // By Andrew Donnelly, Contributing Writer

W

ESTCHESTER, NY - While the pandemic left thousands of Americans in a state of financial insecurity, some upand-coming entrepreneurs have pushed ahead and created opportunities for themselves in this new economic playing field. Two of those aforementioned entrepreneurs are Haley and Michael, who are taking a modern approach to a classic: the All-American Bake Sale.

“Well, we consider ourselves to be pretty business savvy,” Michael said, throwing a plastic tarp over a white folding table. “I don't mean to brag, but I’m a Brown graduate with a degree in marketing.” Following this completely unprompted comment, Haley arrived, unloading today's goodies from the back of her Kia Soul. “You always hear people saying to ‘think outside the box’. Well, we thought, to really think outside the box, we should look inside the box,” she said while surgically removing the cellophane from a tray of fruit loop bars. “With all the craziness in the world, I think what people really want is some good old-fashioned, sugar-induced fun!”

Despite shiny first appearances, not everything is sunshine and rainbows in Haley and Michael’s world. The young entrepreneurs have found themselves in a rather unpleasant predicament: they are hemorrhaging money on a near daily basis. “You know, it’s a little frustrating. We put all this work into baking all these tasty snacks, and hardly anyone gives us the time of day,” Haley said. “I’ll be honest, the muffins don't surprise me. But the amount of blondies we have to throw out at the end of the day… it’s concerning.”. While many would consider the parking lot of an outlet mall to be the perfect place to attract heavy foot traffic, customer turnout has shown anything but. “We aren’t breaking even most days. I mean, this many cookies, muffins and assorted pastries aren’t cheap you know,” she said, to which Michael quickly responded: “Oh? Well, I’ve never thought of it like that. I mean if that’s the case, we certainly wouldn’t want to throw out our entire inventory every day and start from scratch”. Haley responded quickly with “I already told you dammit, we can’t just go around serving stale goods, Michael! People don't want to eat rock-hard brownies! As though you would know anything about rock-hard anyway…” to which Michael responded: “Oh very professional, Haley!

You don't hear me bringing up your personal issues.”. Haley then said: “Wait a minute, are you writing this down? Have you been writing all of this down? Why in God's name are you still writing? Stop writing! What the hell kind of journalist are you? Get out of here!”

While Haley and Michael further discussed private matters, I had the opportunity to speak with the head, and frankly only shareholder, Chip. “Yeah, I leant them a couple hundred bucks two months ago,” he said. “They told me they were working on a startup. I know it wasn’t a lot for building a business, but they’re my friends, so I wanted to help.

Looking back, I may have been a little generous.” Chip, as it

turns out, is also a regular customer of Michael and Haley’s establishment. In fact, he is one of very few regulars, if any at all. “They keep telling me that I’ll start seeing the money soon, and at this point I’m tempted to just tell them they should keep it. I honestly don't know why I’m still a part of this. I mean, I’m turning thirty in like a week.”. After this comment, Chip went really quiet and just stared off into space for a bit before returning to his car, oatmeal raisin cookie in hand.

It is said that one of the pillars of capitalism is competition.

Well if that’s the case, then Haley and Michael certainly have their work cut out for them. Just across the parking lot, with a line of hungry customers as far back as the eye can care to see, is Suzie’s Bake Stand, run by one Suzie Jones, age eleven. Some would consider her to be the Norman Rockefeller of the baking industry, the notion of which she humbly rejected. “I really love to bake with my grandma, and I wanted to share all these tasty treats with everyone!” she said, offering a complimentary rice krispie. “I sometimes like to give free samples, that way people know it’s good and will buy more.” Although some may see this as an unorthodox strategy, it certainly gets results. Suzie’s Bake Stand rakes in an estimated $5,000 a week, judging by the comically large jar of cash with PROFIT written on the side in thick red marker. With the exception of Haley and Michael, it would seem that Suzie runs her sweet and savory empire uncontested. As some rumors have stated, Suzie has offered to buy out Haley and Michaels business, an offer which they refused. Upon being questioned about whether or not this is in violation of the Sherman Antitrust Act of 1890, Suzie responded with an innocent “I don't know, we haven’t learned that in school yet.”

Although things might seem bleak for the upstarts, hope is not lost. Michael and Haley both stand strong with the cando attitude of the American worker; and, if all else fails, they each have a modest trust fund to fall back on.

Andrew Donnelly is a second-year theatre studies major who bribed their professor with baked goods to get an A. You can reach them at adonnelly1@ithaca.edu

60

Grimes is the Marie Antoinette of the 21st Century Help Save Grimes // By Connor Stanford, Contributing Writer

H

ey guys. So we all know c might be getting the ol’ fashion guillotine, and I just wanted to post something to defend her.

Grimes doesn’t deserve death, because she has become the Marie Antoinette of the 21st century. They’re doing her dirty just like they did to Marie, because none of the things she actually did harmed anyone. Yeah Grimes may have done and said some questionable things, but that doesn’t make her a villain. Just like when Marie said “let them eat cake” Grimes said “why don’t homeless people live in virtual reality?” People resent Grimes for being glam in a time of struggle, as they did Marie. She’s just living her best life and dressing the way that expresses her art. Her outfits should be taken as an inspiration when our clothing manufacturers have entirely collapsed due to the revolution. We should really blame Elon for being a sucky partner, just like we kind of forget about how shitty Louis the 16th was. Elon was her best shot of getting to space, and honestly I have to respect that move.

We have to remember that Grimes started as a humble independent artist. Yeah she was getting her neuroscience degree paid for by her rich parents and dropped out, but the energy is the same. Grimes committed herself to living the starving artist lifestyle. Living in a crack den until her toes got frostbite, having shockingly terrible haircuts; that’s what puts the grime in Grimes. We loved her so much before she went mainstream.

You can’t really say that Grimes is at fault, because her instability and mental illness should exempt her. She said she locked herself in a room for two weeks and blacked out the windows and didn’t eat and did a lot of amphetamines in order to go intentionally insane to make Visions...that seems pretty crazy to me. Remember when she only really ate spaghetti on tour to the point where she was malnourished and balding? Or the story when she beat a guy over the head with a banjo? She even changed her legal name from Claire to c in lowercase and italics because it’s the scientific symbol for the speed of light. Not sure if you can plead insanity for 30+ years of your life, but it seems solid enough to me.

The artistic contributions to culture Grimes has made are so important too. I really don’t know where it all went wrong really, but it might have something to do with when she joined Tiktok and did the whole “I have a propothistion for the communithsts” thing.

Claire De Lune was one of the best records of 2022, and I don’t know any artist that would be bold enough to release a visual album which included animated robots having lesbian oral sex! The youtube guidelines had to be reformatted to prevent pornographic content from non-human, animated entities; very iconic.

Grimes even pushed the technological boundaries, working with Elon to program the first Neuralink for her record Unseelie. Sure, the Neuralink started playing ads directly into your brain if you stopped paying for your subscription, but that’s not Grimes’ problem. And sure, trying to control hormones and cure mental illnesses with a brain chip was bound to make someone go on a murderous rampage across Nashville. Again, blame Elon for that one. The brain chip wasn’t the only alteration Grimes got during that era, remember the antennae? I literally screamed when I saw her unveil them, unwrapping the bandages while singing “Chrysalis” ...actual chills. And yeah, they fell off due to tissue necrosis six days later, but what can you do?

000 was the epitome of a mother and son relationship, you can clearly see how much she cares for X Æ A-XII when she let him help write the record as an eight year old. Some of the lyrics about dairy-free yogurt were strange but I liked the production. It was weird to find out that he was actually a child cyborg, but it was technically legal so no problem there. Letting him get all his teeth plated in platinum may have been unwise, but unconventional parenting is not any reason to execute Grimes.

She even recreated her artistic process for Visions to create the sister album Hallucinations. Going into space for two weeks in isolation might be the most superfluous use of SpaceX technology and resources, but being the first artist to entirely create an album in space is worth it. I don’t support the choice to fast and do amphetamines for two weeks in space, but it was mostly harmless.

By the way, don’t you dare bring up the auto-car crash.

It was a Tesla fully-automated prototype, it was purely a coincidence that it crashed with Grimes in the car. A 14 car pile-up isn’t that bad, at least it wasn’t 15. Saying “Immobility really isn’t the vibe” to that one guy who got paralyzed in the accident wasn’t the move, but we all know Grimes has social anxiety.

Anyways, the Hatsune Miku cosplay at the downtown LA general-strike protest in 2037 was such a moment too. I actually was there! She even signed my picket sign, I felt so blessed. The sign is actually hanging on my wall right now.

Seeing her fist in the air and those aqua blue wig ponytails was so inspirational. Grimes really is a kind-hearted and socially aware human being <3.

I even had a heart attack when the news broke. I was completely devastated to find out that she had died in anaphylactic shock, but who could tell if you’re allergic to durian before you even try it? But it turns out it was just promo for her album Goodbye! It was kind of a low note to go out on before hiatus, but I understand why she did it. c wanted to

61

commit her time to supporting Elon’s political career and campaign. We could’ve had first lady Grimes, but I'm glad she could make music instead of doing boring political stuff all the time.

It was such an insightful glimpse into her life on Elon’s floating eco-island in the middle of the Pacific to listen to Eden 2. It was so apparent that she needed an escape mentally, but it also made sense because Elon was facing so much outrage. It wasn’t cool that they burnt down those Tesla factories, but it wasn’t very cool of him to create on-site housing and instate Musk-Bucks for the employees.

That’s the main problem really, the common denominator is Elon. It’s all his fault for being a shitty imperialist dudebro honestly. Grimes doesn’t deserve this, but TBQFH...Elon does. Haha. Anyways please petition the Union of American Citizens so that Grimes doesn’t die <3.

It was pretty shocking to see Elon’s head ripped off lol. I really liked that they let her come to the execution and kiss him goodbye. Her tribute song was so beautiful, “Lethal Affection” is one of her best songs yet. I think I’ll leave this with a couple of my favorite lyrics.

Bleeding hearts they scab so quickly But cherry blossoms in spring will remind me The poison in your head, so vindicating I’ll give up my goodbyes The reflection in your eyes will die But I will live on through your lethal affection Edit: Thanks for the reddit gold kind stranger!!!

Update: YAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY! c isn’t dead! I’m so glad that I did my little part to save a musical treasure like Grimes.

Connor Standford is a first-year theatre studies major who wants to be adopted as Grimes’ second child.

You can reach them at cstanford@ithaca.edu.

Art by Adam Dee, Art Editor

62

Promising Young Woman The Five Most Girlboss Moments // By Stephanie Tokasz, Staff Writer

H

ave you heard of the film Respectful Young Man? No? Hmm, that’s interesting. Well, you probably haven’t heard of it because it doesn’t exist. And Promising Young Woman pretty much explains why. You know, the movie with #girlboss Cassie. Sure she’s a girlboss on her own, but it’s the structure of society and actions of those around her that make her reign even more #powerful. If you’ve seen PYW, then read on. If you haven’t, go watch it bro. Either way, here’s Cassie’s most #powerful #girlboss moments. *Warning: Spoilers Ahead* Scene #1: Girlboss Meter: 8.5/10 You would think that the dean of Cassie’s ex-medical school being a woman is a feminist moment until she starts talking.

When Cassie confronts Dean Walker, the dean practically reads a script of all the words used to victim shame. She says that she can’t “ruin a young man’s life every time an accusation is made,” and she has to give men “the benefit of the doubt.” I mean aside from the fact that Cassie lowkey kidnapped the Dean’s daughter (we’re not gonna talk about that one), Cassie’s comeback to Dean Walker is outstanding; “Luckily, I don’t have as much faith in boys as you do.” Not to mention the fact that Cassie literally came up with this plan entirely on her own and made the Dean switch up so fast. It’s also hard to believe that Dean Walker had the audacity to victim-shame Cassie while wearing a low-cut blouse. I would say go off to her attire, but she doesn’t get to go off until she cleans up her act.

Girlboss One-Liner: “Luckily, I don’t have as much faith in boys as you do.” Girl go off!!

Scene #2: Girlboss Meter: 9/10 I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you usually don’t have a connection with someone because you made out while you were drunk. Or in these circumstances, forced someone to make out while they were drunk. So, Cassie is a #queen for calling out the awkward dude snorting you-know-what in front of her, thinking that she’s completely wasted, and then claiming to have a connection. Not to mention that she’s way out of his league. I don’t know if it makes it worse that this dude is literally McLovin. But she shuts him down with a series of questions: “What do I do for a living? Sorry. Maybe that one’s too hard.

How old am I? How long have I lived in the city? What are my hobbies?” She pauses. “What’s my name?” And then he goes on to claim that he’s a “nice guy” even though he practically assaulted her while she was “drunk.” I’m not tryna come off as a misandrist, but this movie makes me want to burn all men in a fire.

Girlboss One-Liner: “What’s my name?” The POWER. Scene #3 Girlboss Meter: 9.5/10 C’mon Cassie, you can do it, pave the way, put your back into it… You know the rest. Anyway, not Bo Burnham also being in this movie. And not him also being another “nice guy.” The way that Cassie finds a video of what happened to Nina is absolutely disgusting, but Cassie shows no hesitation in not only cutting Ryan out of her life but destroying his life #sistersbeforemisters. And her not being scared to confront him is the scene I think we were all waiting for. I mean his reaction is pretty typical, considering he’s a “nice guy.” He says he was just a kid and then switches up and says, “Then we both won’t be doctors you… failure” (we’re just gonna omit that one word but it’s pretty obvious what he said). Like bro, you were literally an adult in pre-med school. Grow up. Any other person would probably want to scream back at him, but Cassie’s response is cool and collected, “Nice.” Every guy in her life literally betrayed her, but she still prevailed. Cassie is the real CEO here.

Girlboss One-Liner: “Nice.” Need I say more?

Scene #4 Girlboss Meter: 10/10 Emerald Fennell basing the whole movie on Cassie drunkenly saying “What are you doing?” and then saying the same line sober is the ultimate power move. Cassie’s #power also radiates through this opening scene. There should’ve been some sort of trigger warning because the opening scene, let’s be real, the entire movie, can be triggering. The movie on its own can be

63

traumatizing, so the lack of a trigger warning is validly controversial. There’s really no easing into it because the first scene just dives right in and makes you fear for Cassie’s safety. However, the tone of the entire scene flips in a split second and there is literally a sound effect to emphasize this. I don’t know about you, but I could feel Cassie’s power through the screen. Women have watched the destruction of themselves onscreen for the entirety of the industry, but she literally turned the tables all on her own and ate it up while doing it.

Girlboss One-Liner: “What are you doing?” Literally a question that should be asked to most men on the daily.

Scene #5 Girlboss Meter: 11/10 Sure, the movie may be controversial, but the nurse costume Cassie wears doesn’t have to be. The amount of courage it took to show up at that bachelor party, literally looking like a queen, and confront Al shows some insane dedication. But now that we’ve established Cassie is an absolute #girlboss, let’s just talk about how none of it ever had to happen. If Al could’ve been a respectful young man, Cassie wouldn’t have had to literally die to get justice for her best friend. And it wasn’t just Al who was behind all of this, but it was the structure of society that allowed his actions to not be punished. Society shouldn’t have enabled things to go on the way they did, but it is girlbosses like Cassie that can flip the switch. Rest in power bestie.

Girlboss One-Liner: The nurse costume. That’s all.

Go and be a respectful young man, so we don’t need to be a promising young woman.

Stephanie Tokasz is a second-year film, photography and visual arts major who has been camped outside Emerald Fennel’s house for weeks. You can reach them at stokasz@ithaca.edu

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Get Yourself Out of Bed And Put On Some Pants! // By Lenley Aikin, Contributing Staff

G

ood morning, girlboss! Are you ready for another day of taking names and kicking ass? You find yourself going into work full of confidence and power. There’s no thought or worry of being patronized by the men at work, or being harassed and overlooked by any means. In fact, you take note that the men at work are coming to you for validation about their performance and asking, “Hey… are my dress pants and shirt too tight?” or “Was I supposed to be wearing a tie? Shit, do you think this will affect how my employer sees my work?”

With the men turning to the women in the workplace, you realize that you and the other women are the top employees

at work. There’s a sense of pride and entitlement, and you admire this perfect world you live in. Then suddenly, you hear a faint beeping. Beep. Beep.

You wake up to the sound of your alarm and find yourself in the bed of your tiny apartment. “Fuck! It was only a dream… the same damn dream again,” you mutter to yourself. You find yourself laying in bed and slowly coming to the realization that you still live in the shitty patriarchal society that puts men over women. Still being in bed, you run through your daily list of why women are equal to or better than men at conquering life:

64

Women are highly intelligent.

Yes, men can be intelligent too, but men tend to jump between thoughts, or run before walking with these scattered ideas.

We all know how acting before thinking turns out...usually sitting in the dust with their friend named consequences. At least women properly lace up their thoughts before running with them.

Women can and will consider all the details.

How else do you think female serial killers get away with murder? They certainly don’t get away with it by simply bringing a shovel to the party. Female serial killers are more like Joe Goldberg from Netflix’s “You.” Target spotted. “Hello, you.”

Men claim to understand and advocate for women’s needs and bodies.

Umm, excuse me…when was the last time you had to pay the Pink Tax? There should at least be a tax for wearing too much Axe Body Spray and blinding our sense of smell. Also, how long have you lived in a society that has unattainable and unrealistic standards of appearance? So what fruit do you best

fit? An apple? A pear? A banana? Or an hourglass?

After mumbling through your list of patriarchal bullshit, you wonder how you can possibly get out of bed. You lie there in bed pondering the question “Why get up?” and face the realities of the world when you could simply lay in bed, scroll through social media for one more TikTok, or Snapchat story, or Instagram reel to see and speak up against the distasteful misogyny. At least scrolling through social media doesn’t require pants…

No! Lying in bed and obsessively browsing social media is not enough! The patriarchy sucks, but nothing will change by staying burrowed in bed with your oversized t-shirt and underwear. You’re awake, alive, and powerful! It’s time to finally face the world, deny reality, and alter society. Dammit!

Get yourself out of bed and put some goddamn pants on!

Lenley Aikin is a second-year exploratory major who has spent months in a purgatory where they have to present to a room full of male coworkers.

You can reach them at laikin@ithaca.edu

“New ‘Joker’ Movie Announced Women are Preparing to Feel Unsafe for the Next Calendar Year //

By Massey Williams, Contributing Writing

2

019’s Joker, directed by Todd Phillips and starring Joaquin Phoenix as the titular Batman villain was a surprising commercial and critical success, being the first R-rated movie to gross over $1 billion as well as being nominated for 11 Academy Awards. The movie appealed to comic book and film fans alike, as Phillips claims he drew inspiration from Alan Moore’s graphic novel, The Killing Joke, as well as Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy. Young, straight white men everywhere rejoiced. Finally, a movie made for them.

However, there was one demographic that “Joker” never appealed to: women. While men across the country were celebrating this psychological thriller adaptation of their favorite comic book character, women were beginning to notice a surprising amount of men in their circles start to identify themselves with the Joker.

This wouldn’t normally be a problem, as men forming their identities around movie protagonists is nothing new and women have grown accustomed to it. But Joker, much like the Scorsese films that inspired it, centers around a homicidal white man who takes revenge against the society he believes has wronged him. This, along with the rise of online misogynists and “incels” (involuntary celibates) made existing in the same space as nerdy white men a gamble many weren’t willing to take. Women everywhere were subjected to months upon months of Facebook posts by male friends with conservative slogans in front of images of the Joker, and these same men talking about how when they were a kid they idolized

Art by Adam Dee, Art Editor

65

Batman, but now that they’re an adult the Joker makes more sense. This plague of thinly-veiled misogyny lasted for about a year, but eventually, the seemingly endless barrage of “nice guys” in their DMs dwindled.

However, with the new announcement of a sequel to 2019’s Joker, along with a possible Joker trilogy in the works, women are once again preparing to feel unsafe for the next calendar year. Little is known about this new film, but Phillips is already facing harsh criticism. When asked why the Joker seems to target primarily women, specifically his elderly mother and a neighbor he was infatuated with to the point where he hallucinated a fake relationship with her, Phillips wrote it off as a coincidence. Some women are now saying that the success of the previous Joker movie is further emboldening these men. “We thought it was finally over,” explains Katie McDonald, a college student who works part time at the local Regal Cinemas, “but not only do we have to increase our theater’s security AGAIN, I have to deal with my high-school boyfriend changing his Instagram bio to ‘we live in a society where honor is a distant memory’ and hitting me up every month to ask me if I know who Travis Bickle is. I can’t even go on Twitter anymore without seeing one of my male friends mention how ‘subversive’ and ‘twisted’ this new Joker movie will be. Some of them have even started wearing the makeup. There is nothing more terrifying to me than the thought of going to see that movie on opening night.” Geeky women are once again expected to take the brunt of this, as the mere mention of comics or video games around these men will inevitably result in a 30 minute long explanation on why they aren’t a “real fan,” and

how they should stop trying to make these things “political.”

Even though the movie is still in the early stages of production, some women have already begun to prepare for the worst. Sales of pocket tasers and pepper spray are at an alltime high, and men who have Joker profile pictures on their Facebook pages are getting blocked en masse, although questions are being raised about the efficacy of this strategy. They’ve tried to mass-flag posts on social media with the “Joker” and “society” tags, but for every account they get suspended, three more seem to take its place. However, they’ve had some success with co-opting the new Harley Quinn movie to distract these sex-starved young men. When asked about her involvement in these efforts, McDonald explains: “The last Joker movie release, we were unprepared. But now, we stand united against straight, white men who say they’re dangerous because they’ve got ‘nothing left to lose.’ I swear to god, if we have to deal with this bullshit for another year, we’ll probably be in a closer mental state to the Joker than they are. All you Jokers out there be prepared, cuz we have an army of Harley Quinns ready to prove that the joke’s on you.”

Massey Williams is a fourth-year english major who definitely doesn’t have a disturbing amount of clown makeup hidden in their closet.

You can reach them at mwilliams5@ithaca.edu

He’s All That: For Your Consideration A Winner That Shocked No One // By Ananya Gambhiraopet, Staff Writer

T

he Academy Awards ceremony is undoubtedly the most anticipated award show all year, and this season we see a sweep that shocked no one.

Netflix’s He’s All That is the film of the year, with a heartfelt, unconventional story that was truly inspirational to the youth of today, it was the most rewatched film on Netflix. The film also went on to win Best Actress, Best Costume Design and Best Film Editing.

The film took audiences by surprise-even though it is just a remake of the 1999 film She’s All That. The film’s plot follows Padgett Sawyer, an Instagram influencer who pretends she is wealthy to her followers and friends. Padgett soon finds out her boyfriend is cheating on her, and her outburst is unfortunately streamed live to her entire fanbase and her world comes crashing down around her. In order to redeem herself Padgett takes on the challenge of transforming her antisocial, unpopular classmate, Cameron Kweller, into Prom King.

The film is shockingly realistic in its portrayal of high school relationships, with uber-cool themed parties, a dance battle and Cameron riding out on a horse to see Padgett

at the end of the movie. One of the more unconventional aspects of the film is the inclusion of a queer relationship in the film. Nisha and Quinn, Cameron and Padgett’s best friends respectively, end up together at the end of the film, both characters are queer and POC, which reflects how far LGBTQ+ representation has come in the past decade.

In summary, He’s All That is a film that will make you laugh and cry, and want to go back to the sweet, happy days of high school when life was just horse riding, karaoke and Kourtney Kardashian offering you a sponsorship. The award for film of the year is certainly deserved and I personally look forward to seeing more films like this in the future.

Ananya Gambhiraopet is a second-year communication management and design major who is directing a remake of “10 Things I Hate About You”starring Charlie D’Amelio and Lil Huddy.

You can reach them at agambhiraopet@ithaca.edu

66

A Step-By-Step Guide to Telling Men In You Life About Your Accomplishments So They Don’t Feel Threatened // By Lily Tollin, Contributing Writer

I

n an age where men are so respectful (like, not condescending at all), I think it is important for us, as women, to make sure we finally treat them as well as they treat us. This is the point of equality, right? Although there is nothing I love more than making men insecure, we do have to draw the line somewhere. We need to inform them about our passions and accomplishments in a way that they respect us, while still remaining humble. I present to you a step by step guide to get you just slightly less recognition than you deserve-- without stepping on his fragile ego.

Step 1: Casually be sure to mention the difference between your salaries.

If you really want the men in your life to respect and admire your accomplishments, the best place to start is to mention the difference between your salaries every chance you get. The more backhanded you can be, the better! Be sure to mention it especially when money or salary has no relevance to the conversation, or even when he’s seeming to be extremely proud of something he’s passionate about. For example, if he’s talking about his hard-earned work promotion, be sure to mention your own work accomplishments in such a way that reminds him how imbalanced the workplace is.

Step 2: Always interrupt him when he’s speaking. Don’t ever let him finish a sentence.

Nothing he’s talking about could possibly be as important as whatever major accomplishment you just achieved, and he should learn to be comfortable with taking the backseat to your otherworldly productivity. Even if it was important, I’m sure you could explain it better; finishing his sentences for him is not irritating at all, and will definitely make him feel more understood. This in turn will make him much more willing to listen to you talk about yourself more in the future.

Step 4: Only mention topics that you know he’s an expert in.

If he starts talking about his blackbelt in karate or is proud of his martial arts training, be sure to list every bar fight you’ve ever seen or been in! It’s important to master the art of using his accomplishments as a reason to talk about yourself, no matter how loosely related they are.

Step 5: Be sure to comment on what he’s wearing, since he’s obviously dressing for you.

His jeans are always way too tight, so make sure to tell him!

It’s not that you don’t trust him or think that he can’t take care of himself, but you know how other women are. You just want him to be safe, that’s all.

Don’t let him go too far the other way either. He should know that his appearance reflects onto you, and you can’t let your reputation be tarnished by going out with a man who can’t dress.

Step 6: Call him nicknames in front of professional friends and colleagues.

Referring to him constantly as “sweetheart” or something similar in front of his friends and colleagues is a great way to alter their view of him. It's so endearing and humanizing to make sure that all the people whose opinions he values know that he is your significant other. It’s perfectly healthy to not let him have a life where he can be seen as his own individual being.

As you can see, there are so many ways to ensure that there is absolutely no power dynamic in your relationship.

By following these easy steps, you can freely talk about your accomplishments in a way that the men in your life will never feel threatened or insecure. Never let a man or genuine human connection distract you from what really matters: yourself <3

Step 3: Always over explain.

Everything you do is always outstanding and original, so it’s crucial, and actually beneficial to him to explain every background detail. If it’s something academics related, you get bonus points for clarifying something that’s related to his degree. Is he a business major? Try your hand at talking about your investments, and do everything you can to ensure that he leaves feeling as though he handles his own finances poorly.

Lilly Tollin is a first- year integrated marketing communications major who is avoiding telling men about their flourishing buzzsaw career.

You can reach them at ltollin@ithaca.edu

67

What Belongs In a Girlboss’ Bag Tools to Make it Through the Day // By Julia DiGeronimo, Contributing Staff

T

o be the ultimate girlboss, you need a bag filled with items that will help you girlboss all day and night.

The typical girlboss will slash through their enemies and drink their blood, but I prefer a simpler approach to my day.

Personally, I usually start with a snack.

I find that I cannot function at my best without four snacks a day, and since my mom won’t let me carry a refrigerator with me, my bag must always have at least two snacks. When a girlboss goes a day without all four snacks, well, it isn’t good. Smoke comes out of the ears and teeth turn to fangs. A simple granola bar will fend off the fangs and prevent the smoke. The second snack needs to be heavy duty because really all the first one did was make you more hungry. Anything from a sandwich to a whole chicken can suffice.

My second item is deodorant and perhaps a favorite perfume or body spray.

When it smells like you have something green and feral growing under your pits, it’s time to pull out the deodorant.

headphones, they can prevent blood pouring out of your ears from the dreadful words.

Now. Girlboss. These might be your most important items.

Start with a pink, preferably Victoria's Secret, makeup bag. Now inside this back, you might guess, you need to have every single makeup product you own. Us girlbosses cannot get through the day without beating our faces to an inch of our lives. We need that mask to appeal to what everyone wants to see. With the ultimate cover, you can get everyone to bend to your wishes. You might also want to have a chisel or knife of some sorts to get through your base layer. Just like everyone else assumes about us, you know we can’t function without a face of makeup on!

I hope this has helped you pack your ultimate GirlBoss Bag because it chills me to the bone to imagine anyone functioning without these core items. Stop living a drab and honestly, embarrassing life, and start girlbossing!

My third item is a machete.

In order to be a true girlboss, you need to fight through hundreds of men just to get to where you want to be. A semi-large machete will make this task ten times easier and prevent a lot of unwanted touches and tears.

Julia DiGeronimo is a third-year writing major who always carries a bag with 10lbs of equipment, just in case You can reach them at jdigeronimo@ithaca.edu

Fourth is a pen.

Because a girlboss can be anyone or anything, a pen should always be available whether you need to sign an autograph or the deed to your mansion.

The last necessity is a pair of headphones.

People (men) have chosen us girlbosses as the chosen ones, meaning we are subject to every tearfully boring tale they subject us to. If you use a pair of heavy duty

68

10 Signs you’ve Girlbossed Too Close to The Sun You Need a break // By Eliel Safran, Staff Writer

I

f there’s one thing we know about our independent millennial and gen-z ladies, it’s that we love to slay! In our fast-paced work culture, us Girlbosses can feel unstoppable, but it IS possible to work too hard! Here are some signs that you may be overworked and it might be time for a self-care day! In my experience if you find yourself doing any of these things it may just be time to pop on a face mask and sit back with a bowl of popcorn to binge some Riverdale!

1. You’ve been feeling stressed.

7. You notice a change in libido.

Increase or decrease! Both bad!

8. You find yourself losing the better part of days staring into store windows at your reflection, thinking about how nice it would be to be one of the people inside: warm, comfortable, consumed with their daily lives, un-afflicted by the flashbacks.

Don’t feel down! After they’ve met you they’ll get the flashbacks too!

Feeling overwhelmed can be a sign to slow down!

2. You’ve been spending less time on yourself.

You time is important for your health!

9. Your mother-in-law finds the folder labeled “Albuquerque” on your desktop and now she won’t make eye contact and you’re worried she’s gonna tell.

Ease your worries with some Ben and Jerry’s! You’re only human!

3. The CIA isn’t watching you, but they aren’t NOT watching you either.

What can we say! We’ve all been there!

10. You looked at your son the other day and noticed his eyes were green but you were pretty sure they’ve always been dark brown, and now that you think of it, his hair looks a little curlier too and he’s way too old to have a changing eye color.

4. You can hear the people in the floor speaking to you and they’re starting to ask for increasingly fancy cheeses.

Recall that this morning he was talking to you and slipped into a slight southern drawl even though you live in Los Angeles, and then you asked him about it and he denied it but like a little too vehemently and you’re starting to feel uncomfortable and strange around him.

This one’s important, luxury cheese gets expensive!

5. The skeletal nubs that once were your fingers have turned gangrenous and are causing you to black out.

Think of the classic mantra “if they’re turning black, reel it back.”

6. The puppet citizens you’ve placed strategically on school boards and city councils across the Midwest are starting to rebel and demand more agency in their decisions.

Eliel Safran is a second-year film, photography and visual arts major who keeps leaving voicemails to her friends about ‘the great conspiracy,’

It can be tempting to squash rebellion with overblown violence but get a massage instead! Much like those extra pounds, murder charges are hard to keep off!

You can reach them at esafran@ithaca.edu

69

Girlboss Culture Revealed It was Actually Just Capitalism in a Sparkly Trench Coat the Whole Time // By Mikayla Tolliver, Contributing Writer

B

reaking news! We have identified the subject after months of trying! Now that we’ve uncovered who our sneaky subject is, a lot of people seem to be having reactions of complete shock and astonishment.

Perhaps we should update you on the story: early in 2021 a mysterious figure cloaked in a to-die-for pink trench coat made by an unidentified designer stormed the land.

It seemed that the cloaked-figure was everywhere, being found in multiple cities but never being identified. We began to call the subject Miss Girlboss Culture and we began to adore her. We even gave her a little slogan “gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss…”

We’d often spy her waking up before everyone else, stepping on other people and writing three books before the microwave countdown ever had the chance.

I mean, I think we all wanted to be her at one point.

That’s until I think we began getting suspicious of how ethical Miss Girlboss Culture was. I mean how possible is it that you actually get up at 5am everyday and have built an empire by 6am? She was also always trying to sell us new products in her videos she often posted on TikTok. Well folks, we have finally caught the subject and it turns out our sparkly subject was just Mr. Capitalism in deguise. *Sigh.* I mean, are we surprised?

We caught up with Mr. Capitalism to interview him about his little heist. When we asked

him if he regretted manipulating people into working for him he just shrugged and said “they made the individual choice and what’s better than individualism?” He didn’t much feel like answering any of our other questions such as “do you know how horrible you are?”

Mr. Capitalism will not be held accountable for his injustices such as tricking several women to overwork themselves for him without their knowledge.

We caught up with one of Mr. Capitalism’s victims, Miss Boss Babe. Miss Boss Babe is clearly still brainwashed by Mr. Capitalism’s actions saying “What’s wrong with all this? I can sell stuff from my home from the moment I wake up until I go to sleep! Money! Who doesn’t like money?” We sighed and gave up on the rest of the interview.

It turns out people aren’t as surprised as how we thought they might be. I know I might have said otherwise a few paragraphs ago. Contrary to popular news headlines, it turns out the majority of society sort of saw this coming I realize.

Mikayla Tolliver is a second-year writing major who is now afraid to take off their sparkly trench coat.

You can reach them at mtolliver@ithaca.edu

70

Buzzsaw Asks Why… Nobody Will Take Me Up on this Really Good Business Opportunity

T

hree months ago, I quit my 9-5 to pursue a career that had flexible hours, the option to work from home, and the opportunity to be my own boss.

I moved out of my parents house and into a swanky apartment uptown, and I could even afford to shop at Whole Foods. How do I do it? Simple. Once a month, I climb the volcano, throw in the cursed book and make sure it burns.

It all started when I was contacted by an associate of Cutco Knives who had sunken eyes and smelled of sulfur. They promised me that their knives were legit, durable, and that they were only one sale away from ascending to the “plane of possibilities.”.’When I declined the sale, they leaned in and told me that there was another opportunity that may be more tantalizing.

It was then that they gave me the cursed book. When I first saw the cursed book, it smelled of cinnamon and leather and had faded pages like a well-loved library book. Holding it made me feel whole for the first time in months, and I was drawn in by it’s intoxicating intrigue. The associate told me that all I needed to do was destroy the book on the first of every month and endless wealth would befall me. I took the book, unsure of whether or not I would complete the task.

Yet the next day, as I was standing by the water cooler at my job discussing Jessica’s round baby, I felt a piece click in my heart. I quit that afternoon, freed from the chains of my old life.

I have found that the only effective way to destroy it is to climb the local volcano and throw it into the boiling magma. I destroy the book on the first of every month, and a small pile of gold appears beneath my pillow the next morning. The book reappears on my doorstep three weeks later and the cycle continues.

This job has allowed me to really pursue my hobbies and make a comfortable life for myself. I’m making art, dating and really exploring who I am outside the stresses of work. Sure, the voices sometimes get too loud and I have to lay down, and often I contemplate throwing myself in after the book, just to make things easier. Still, I just bought tickets to go to Italy next month and that’s going to be a really exciting trip.

I’m thinking of taking a break from my work, maybe returning to something with more structure. For some reason, every neighbor, friend and coworker I have offered the job to has inexplicably turned it down.

I might have to force the book into their hands and hope that they have the same need for wholeness that I once did. Until then, I am going to keep my head down, climb the volcano once a month, and continue hoarding my gold for a rainy day.

Your Editor who is going back to her MLM,

The cursed book is as solid as steel and as durable as mountains. The first time I tried to destroy it, I dulled all the knives in my kitchen and almost burned the house down. The second time, I dented the front of my car and, the third time, I melted my trash can.

Sarah

71

72