babyteeth
winter 2024 // issue 1
Dear Baby, Welcome to the most cunt-tastic edition of babyteeth yet. ALERT! We are now surfing the linguistic zeitgeist. THE ELECTION IS COMING!! Freak the fuck out guys. Call MN senators Amy Klobuchar and Tina Smith to demand a CEASEFIRE NOW! Amy: 612 727 5220 Tina: 651 221 1016 Now that you’ve done that, you are free to enjoy this week’s titillating edition of babyteeth. Olivia wants you all to know that she tasted wine over break. It’s giving that girl Liesel from The Sound of Music. You know the vibe. Ruby is Gretel. Lily is a rejected Brigitta (call back but no role, that went to Lily Govrik?! Like who is that.). Sofia is Serena because she has to go. Olivia may break out into song at any given moment - her karaoke go-toe are Bob Dylan’s “Mama, you’ve been on my mind” and “how to solve a mf problem like Maria.” For real tho, the band is back together, so we are just like the AI Beatles song. Except we’re the real thing. The real deal. Baby. And we won’t break up! We’ve said all we can. Now it’s up to you. And your intellectual and creative baby juices, as well as your moral integrity. baby therapy, practice healthy communication folks. signing off from the same google doc on 3 different computers and a phone, Lily “macbook air” Akre sofia “ditched our meeting for the competition and REFUSES to use google calendar and PROUD OF IT” durdag olivia “mine is also a macbook air but did you know i tasted wine” ho ruby “am typing on phone cause computer is cold and stickerless”
contributors elsa snowbeck, E.J. Talbot, billy bratton, tyler chodera, joe, drew rodriguez-michel, adiana contreras, sunniva maharjan, stewie goon, olivia ho, ava blaufuss, lily akre, sofia durdag, kate fair, ruby mead, max vortuba, ethan kinsella, noel wang
Amy: 612 727 5220 / Tina: 651 221 1016 My name is [YOUR FIRST & LAST NAME], I’m a [CONSTITUENT / SUPPORTER] of [SENATOR/REPRESENTATIVE NAME], and I’m calling about Palestine and Israel. [YOUR KIND GREETING] For Representatives: [REPRESENTATIVE NAME] must publicly call for a ceasefire, pressure Israel to allow more humanitarian aid into Gaza, and vote NO on sending more weapons for this war. A “humanitarian pause” is not good enough. They should cosponsor the ceasefire resolution, House Resolution 786, introduced by Representatives Cori Bush and Rashida Tlaib. For Senators: [SENATOR NAME] must publicly call for a ceasefire, pressure Israel to allow more humanitarian aid into Gaza, and vote NO on sending more weapons for this war. A “humanitarian pause” is not good enough. They should introduce a Senate Resolution calling for a ceasefire, similar to the one in the House. I am passionate about this because… I have family/friends in the region and… I visited Palestine and witnessed firsthand how My faith compels me to… While I am speaking as an individual… I talked to my neighbors about this and we all agree that… I’m a member of … and we all agree that… Most U.S. voters agree that the U.S. should push for a ceasefire. Thank you! from AFSC
billy billyand andhis hissister, sister,molly molly
An An Excerpt Excerpt from from a a Collection Collection of of Letters Letters Not Not Sent Sent My Dear, In the quiet hours, beneath the whisper of twilight’s veil, Thoughts of you dance like leaves in a long-forgotten tale. Once we walked a path, where dreams like rivers flowed, In that sacred space, our past like moonlight glowed. Yet, as seasons turned, so did the tides of fate, Leaving behind a silence I can’t articulate. In the forest of our memories, where footsteps still do roam, I wander like a specter, amidst our once-dear home. In this place where longing and regret intertwine, I find a solemn peace, a resignation solely mine. For it was I who left you, standing on that trail, For despite best efforts, love could not prevail. The day I can recall, when you spoke that fateful phrase, I knew I couldn’t reciprocate, haunting me for days. Quickly I departed, it was impossible, I thought, For another to truly feel that connection which I sought. Now I see your face and I cannot hold your eyes, In the depths of my remorse, I bid my silent goodbyes. I wish I could return, make up for my mistake, But I fear that I once more would cause your heart to break. So, with a heart heavy yet whole, I pen this verse to you, A testament of affection: deep, sincere, and true. In another life, perhaps, where old wounds find their mend, Our paths might cross again, in a time where hearts can bend. With an enduring and gentle goodbye,
E. E. J. J. Talbot Talbot
art by Elsa Snowbeck
art by Ava Blaufuss
art by Tyler Chodera
I’m gonna fight it, I tell my mother in the parking lot of the oral surgeon’s office. She laughs. When I’m in the chair, a needle through the knobbly veins of my hand—they tried my inner elbow first, there was a spurt of blood, and the nook between humerus and radius was quickly and silently abandoned—I feel a cool, thick unblood spreading up and through my veins. They strap a plastic tube around my face without asking. I want to remember falling asleep. I want to fight it. The last thing I hear is the beep of my heart rate monitor, suddenly very slow. I blink back into memory in another chair. I can feel the whole world between my fingers, as simple and linear as a length of red ribbon. There is so much my mother needs to know. It’s a racket! I yell, railing against the practice of wisdom teeth removal. I have solved teeth extraction. I have a whole new orthodontic procedure that they don’t know about! As I flop bonelessly from side to side in my chair, I suddenly know it all. They put drugs in my oxygen line, I tell my mother confidently. I accuse her of being “one of them”. Everything I say is limned with a burning clarity. I am the only one who sees the world bare of pretenses, free from the lies of the dental community. But slowly, I realize there are thirty minutes I don’t remember. My mother has talked at length with a Sofia who no longer exists, who has been forcibly disappeared into another person’s recollections. Something has been stolen from me. I begin to cry, wailing that memories are so so so precious. When I’m okay’d to leave, I do a jig out the door, to prove to my mother that I’m not high anymore. Then I go home, and in about twelve hours my face balloons to twice its size. Due to the opioid epidemic, I am told to take only copious amounts of Advil and Tylenol, so instead I burn my face numb and bright red with ice packs. My cheeks swell so much that my teeth leave delicate, perfect imprints along the inside of my mouth, like the pearlpink interiors of shells. The sheet of paper says my pain should peak on the third day. But it only gets worse and worse. I lie awake at night, a bag of frozen blueberries glued to my cheek. I can’t sleep from the pain. It is electric, animal, whiplashing over my cheek and through my jaw. And I can’t get rid of this bafflingly horrendous taste in my mouth, like some kind of oral demonic possession. I fill my google searches with “wisdom teeth removal bad taste” and “wisdom teeth removal pain day five” and “wisdom teeth removal can’t open mouth”, beginning a tumbling descent into Quora comments. But I decide that wisdom teeth are supposed to hurt, and hurt badly. They are modernity’s punishment. If I call the doctor, they will only tell me condescendingly that these are perfectly normal side effects. I am absolutely, utterly certain I do not have an infection.
I go to my surgeon for my day seven check-up. He looks in my mouth. You have an infection, he says.
@stewie_goon on insta