Stevens Point (and neighbors) Calendar of Events Art
Through August 10 Kristin Thielking and Keven Brunett. Reception, Friday, August 10, 6:00 - 8:00 p.m. Scarabocchio Art Museum. Through September 15 Member and Commission Artists. Gallery Q. Through September 17 Dual Lives: Chinese Opera in New York City. Noel Fine Arts Center. August 9 - September 9 Places from a New Perspective. Riverfront Arts Center. August 14-28, Tuesdays Illustration. 6:30 - 8:30 p.m. UWSP Continuing Education. August 25 Farmshed and The Stevens Point Sculpture Park Appetite for the Arts. 5:00 - 10:00 p.m. The Stevens Point Sculpture Park. www.farmshed.org. August 28 - October 4 Ryan Weisenfeld. Scarabocchio Art Museum. Dance
August 9-11 Point Tap Festival 2012. 9:30 a.m. - 4:30 p.m. UWSP Noel Fine Arts Center. August 13-17 Point Dance Ensemble’s Summer Rehearsal Intensive. 10:00 a.m. 5:00 p.m. Music
Through August 1, Wednesdays Stevens Point City Band Concerts. 7:00 - 8:00 p.m. Pfiffner Park Bandshell.
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August 1, 8, 15, 22, 29 Jazz on the Patio. 5:30 p.m. SentryWorld Sports Center. August 1, 9, 15, 22, 29 Sing That Tune Karaoke. 9:30 p.m. Partners Pub. August 3 Piano Ensembles Concert. 11:00 a.m. Michelsen Hall, UWSP Noel Fine Arts Building. August 3 Harp Festival Concert. 1:00 p.m. Michelsen Hall, UWSP Noel Fine Arts Building. August 3 Viola, Cello, and Bass Festival Concert. 4:15 p.m. Michelsen Hall, UWSP Noel Fine Arts Building. August 3 Violin Festival Concert. 7:30 p.m. Theater @ 1800. August 3 Icky Friction. 7:30-11:00 p.m. The Square. August 4, 11 John Lambert, Acoustic Classic, Pop, Rock and Soul. 2:00 - 6:00 p.m. Shipyard Bar and Grill, Mosinee. August 4 Eddie Biebel. 7:00 p.m. Rising Star Mill, Nelsonville. August 4 The Swing Crew. 7:30-11:00 p.m. The Square.
August 9 Chamber Music Student Orchestra in Concert. 7:00 p.m. Michelsen Hall, UWSP Noel Fine Arts Center. August 9 Chamber Music Student Ensemble Performance. 8:00 p.m. Michelsen Hall, UWSP Noel Fine Arts Center. August 10 Piano Ensembles Concert. 1:00 p.m. Michelsen Hall, UWSP Noel Fine Arts Center. August 10 Cello Festival Concert. 4:15 p.m. Michelsen Hall, UWSP Noel Fine Arts Center. August 10 Violin Festival Concert. 7:30 p.m. Theater @ 1800. August 11 Open Mic with Tim “The Granddad” Krogman. 7:00 p.m. Kristin’s Riverwalk. August 22 Live Entertainment. 5:30-9:30 p.m. Amber Grill. August 24-25 3rd Annual Bluegrass in the Pines Festival. 12:00 p.m. - 11:45 p.m. Rosholt Fair Park, Rosholt. Outdoors
Through August 27, Mondays Moonlight Bike Ride. 9:00 p.m. UWSP sundial.
August 6 American Suzuki Institute Faculty in Recital. 7:30 p.m. Theater @ 1800.
Through August 28, Tuesdays Tai Chi in the Park. 5:30 - 6:30 p.m. Pfiffner Park Bandshell.
August 7 The Cheney Cello Trio. 7:30 p.m. Theater @ 1800.
August 1 August Full Moon Ride. 9:00 p.m. UWSP sundial.
Stevens Point (and neighbors) Calendar of Events August 10-12 18th Annual Midwest Recumbent Rally. Fri 10:00 - 7:00 p.m., Sat 10:00 - 6:00 p.m., Sun 8:00 - 2:00 p.m. Hostel Shoppe. August 18 B-3 Bike Tour. Check-in at 6:30 a.m. Stevens Point Brewery. www. bikereg.com. August 21 Poky Pedaling Potluck Picnic. 5:15 p.m. Goerke Park. August 25 2012 Run, Bike, Unite Duathlon. Race starts at 8:30 a.m. Sentry Insurance. www.unitedwaypoco. org/Duathlon. August 25 Bike Fun: Tiny Museum Ride. 12:45 p.m. Goerke Park. Other
August 1-2 Kids Summer Movie Series. “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs” 10:00 a.m. Rogers Cinema. August 3-4 Corn on the Curb. The Square. August 4 Central Wisconsin Environmental Station Farm Tour. 3:00 p.m. CWES, Amherst Junction. August 8-9 Kids Summer Movie Series. “Journey 2: The Mysterious Island” 10:00 a.m. Rogers Cinema.
August 11 Midstate Sisters of Skate Rollerderby. 6:00 - 10:00 p.m. Arnott Lions Park.
If you would like to see your event in The Bitchin’ Kitsch next month, please email the details to chris@talbot-heindl.com.
August 11 Taste of Town. 5:00 - 9:00 p.m. Big Brothers, Big Sisters. August 11-12 Iola Vintage Military and Gun Show with Vintage Tractors and Equipment. Opens 7:00 a.m. Iola Old Car Show Grounds, Iola. August 12 Truckin Buddies Truck and Car Show. 8:00 - 3:00 p.m. Pfiffner Pioneer Park. August 17 Free Movie Night. “I Remember Mama.” 7:30 p.m. Rising Star Mill, Nelsonville. August 18 Golden Sands RC & D Dinner Celebrating 40 Years of Conservation. 5:00 - 9:00 p.m. Jenson Community Center, Amherst. August 25 Amherst Quilt, Craft, and Amish Furniture Auction. 7:00 -3:00 p.m. Portage County Fair Grounds, Amherst. August 31-September 3 Portage County Fair. 8:00 a.m. - 10:00 p.m. Rosholt Fair Park, Rosholt.
August 11 Food Dehydration. Amherst. www. midwestrenew.org/workshops.
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content august 2012 Bust - kaleeM rajA
cover
Calendar of Events
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News
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Underneath: Jared, Jesha, Christian, and Trinity - Chris Talbot-Heindl
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Dear Stevens Point - Eric Krszjzaniek
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Portrait of Eric Krszjzaniek - Chris Talbot-Heindl
Robin Lee - pg. 8
chris talbot-heindl - pg. 16
on the front cover: Bust
kaleeM rajA Ink on paper
on the inside back cover: who’s that deal douglas somers Print
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Sam Gustafson - pg. 9
Andrew Peterson of OVER NIGHT EMPIRE- pg. 17
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Cutting Commentary - Kenneth Spalding Mirrorage - Robin Lee
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King - To Love Sophia
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Widdershins - Michael Cluff
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Brahman - Sam Gustafson
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the frontal lobe as a broken typewriter - Dan Hedges
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#1 For My Sister - LM and XY
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Patrick Zimmerman - Michael Cluff
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I Know... - Anand Salve
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Reptile - To Love Sophia
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On why I am not fun at concerts - 11-13 Eric Krszjzaniek Happy for you... - Anand Salve
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Moon Cat - LM and XY
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Odyssey - Michael Cluff
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Redemption - Marc Carver
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Godless - Marc Carver
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Three Guitars - LM and XY
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Underneath: Sarah B. - Chris Talbot-Heindl
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Gila Monsters - Dan Hedges
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Meus 3 - Andrew Peterson of OVER NIGHT EMPIRE
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Painted Turtle - Robin Lee
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Donors and Index
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who’s that deal - douglas somers
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chris talbot-heindl.
Underneath: Jared, Jesha, Christian, and Trinity Chris Talbot-Heindl Ink and Gouache on paper
news:
In an effort to honor all artists and art forms, the bitchin’ kitsch has started a page for video and music submissions! This month’s “issue” link of video and music can be found at www.talbot-heindl.com/bitchin_kitsch.html or www.youtube.com/TheBitchinKitsch. If you have a video or art submission, please send the link or file to Dana Talbot-Heindl at dana@talbot-heindl.com.
about b’k:
the bitchin’ kitsch is a zine for artists, poets, prose writers, or anyone else who has something to say. it exists for the purpose of open creativity. if you have something you want to share, please email it to chris@talbot-heindl.com.
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eric krszjzaniek. Dear Stevens Point
By: Eric Krszjzaniek
Wow, eleven years! Can you believe it? I can’t. Well, I won’t, anyhow. Because admitting that means that I admit to myself that I’m about to turn 30, so there’ll be no belief or acceptance, only incredulity and denial. As I sit and reminisce about you, Stevens Point, I have to admit, we had good times. There was the time you elected me to the County Board of Supervisors. There were also those times you did not elect me to School Board and City Council. Whatever, it’s cool. There were the late nights skinny dipping in Lake Joanis. Then I found out there were snapping turtles and I didn’t do that anymore. There was the time Bret and I got a bucket of fried chicken and 40s of Colt .45 and sat on a curb on campus and ate dinner. There were the radio shows on your 90FM. Point Blank Radio was one of them. There were the STV shows Milk & Cookies, a debate forum for the political groups on campus! We made the front page of the paper for that one. Of course, there were reasonable College Republicans and College Democrats back then. Reason may be gone now. There was being friends with your School Superintendent and having him buy all the drinks. He taught me the importance of always moving your hands and arms and to always gesticulate when you don’t know what you’re talking about while public speaking. I still use that one bit of advice. Stevens Point, there were the warm summer nights without end spent without plans and there were the cold winter days snowshoeing through Schmeekle with frozen hair and snowblindness. There was every relationship I’ve ever had - all in you! Of course, they all ended. But that’s not your fault, Stevens Point. Well, maybe if I hadn’t been so tied to you for some of them and…that’s not important. The important thing is we had each other. 6
What else did we have? We had the state’s best Korean restaurant. Though it did close down. Oh, Friendly Bar was always a memorable night. Though that closed down. Willy’s/Willy’s II had the best freaking brats and fries. Though Willy kept having heart attacks and that closed down. Cranberry Creek was a nice change of pace for the month it was open eight years ago - you can probably take down that sign now. The fun times at Bella’s Wine and Cheese made me forget I was in central Wisconsin and made me feel absolutely cosmopolitan. It’s too bad the owners couldn’t get along and it had to close down. Who could forget the Spotted Cow and Chicago Dog Special I’d get at bar time at Joe Mama’s? Of course, once it moved into the mall, that became impossible. Then the mall closed. Working at your JC Penney gave me valuable retail work experience, letting me know I never wanted to do that again. Then JC Penney closed. Going to brunch every Sunday at Holiday Inn/Ramada was always something to look forward to. But then Holiday Inn moved, and the Ramada closed. Walking the aisles of Plonsker Books, I’d always find some used book - it’s even where I bought a 25th Anniversary Edition of “The Fountainhead” to read at the same time Joelle read it. Neither of us finished the book (side note: it sucks), and the store closed. The cool old Ace Hardware on the south side next to the laundromat was cool to explore when I first moved here. But then they tore down that entire block. But the Colligan’s Bakery they put in had good food. Of course, that closed down. I remember going to Hibachi Joe’s a lot, once with Amy Heart to speak to a Old People’s Club (Lions? Optimists?) about her mayoral campaign. I watched an old man with an eye patch and two hooks for hands eat lo mein and open a fortune cookie, he never smiled once and seemed perturbed about two people in their 20s talking to him during his Old People’s Club meeting. Then Hibachi Joe’s closed down. The Other Side wasn’t just a great place to eat, it also was a great place to work. It was my first foray into food service and making tips was pretty sweet and Phil and Ann were pretty cool to work for. That closed. River City Diner was a cool retro diner to eat in, and when it became an antiques mall, well, that place was awesome. Of course, that closed. Supreme Bean was a great place to just sit and people watch downtown. That closed. Oh, but your music venues, Stevens Point! The Clark Place and Mission Coffee House - so many good concerts and
eric krszjzaniek (con’t), chris talbot-heindl. good times. Those closed. But then I’ll always remember your honest to goodness nightclubs, like Steel and Bruiser’s. Steel with its stripper-chic dance floor, and Bruiser’s with its speakers of mythic proportions, both of which I sheepishly admit to having danced upon. Places a bit different than the usual night out, a good time. Those closed. Tess’ Twist had some crazy cheap ice cream and homemade root beer, an iconic stand on the corner where you could stop on your Green Circle ride and restock your body with calories. That place was neat. That place was demolished. Oh, but it was okay, because in Tess’ place was built the amazing, delicious, “Is-This-Really-In-Stevens-Point?!” Cafe 27. Oh my god, the breakfast pizza, the hamburgers, the side salads, the croissants, the local ingredients. That closed. Hometown Grocery, that was cool, the downtown finally had a grocery store, and I could walk there from Noel Group on my lunch break to get something to eat. That was demolished. Apro Po Gifts was a neat store selling modern furniture and futuristic design. Lots of stuff that reminded me of A Clockwork Orange’s set decor. That burned down. The south side Dairy Queen added a nice option instead of Belt’s for desserts and they had good fries. That burned down (fryer left on, I think). Club Night Out, the area’s closest thing to a gay bar, many fun nights with friends at that hidden gem. That burned down. The Park Ridge Strip Mall had some great stores, I remember having to go to the upholstery store there a few times when I worked for the Upholstery Shop at the University. That mall burned down. Twice.
on and lakes to watch the sun set on. Your university gave me more happiness and friends than any letter could ever convey, and certainly more education than I needed. It also brought in culture. Dinner with Michael Parenti. Elbow Room with Antonia Juhasz. Forcing Jakob Dylan to hug me after a Wallflowers show. Forcing Carol King to hug me after a John Kerry stump speech. Learning that Bill Cosby is kind of a dick. Though he probably doesn’t force people to hug him, so who am I to judge? You gave me a serendipitous job that helped me feel as though I was making a difference. We’ve had our occasional differences, but we always worked them out. You and I, we always came easy to one another. No fights, no grudges, we were what we were and it was fine. It was great. The creamy middle of the candy bar, no hard edges, no gross coconut, just smooth sailing. Unless you wanted to sail on McDill Pond, that’s gone. Though, I like you better without it, Point. Which means, of course, you’ll fix the dam and it will return. Stevens Point, you’ve been a city perpetually on the cusp of greatness, a secret handshake that those of us
Papa John’s, Tiger Bowl, Hot and Now, Stanley Project, Burger King, Curry in a Hurry, Gotta Hava Java, Rainbow Falls, El Tapatio, Witz End, The Keg, The FAIR Store, Carousel Candy, Stonecrop Organics: closed, became Green Tea, became Republican HQ, became tanning salon which is now closed, closed, closed, demolished now Mark Toyota, now Tempura House, closed, demolished for apartments, closed, closed, closed. Geez, Stevens Point, I’ve only been here eleven years, it’s hard being a survivor in a city of memories. But, you’ve been there for me through a lot. Heck, just this year you gave me my first fillings in my otherwise immaculate dental history. Though the one did need some…adjustment. (I still feel impure.) You gave me trees to find shade under and rivers to boat
Portrait of Eric Krszjzaniek Chris Talbot-Heindl Turkey deli meat and bacon www.talbot-heindl.com
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eric krszjzaniek (con’t), kenneth spalding, robin lee. who have lived here have known and carried with us, sharing it with one another when we are away from you, guarding it like a treasure that unlocks a shared sense of happiness and purpose, hoping it never gets discovered TOO much. Well, I think you’re about to get discovered. Great things are happening here. You are an island of ideals and progress, a perpetual blue oasis surrounded by a red desert. I came to this town as an 18 year old. I knew so much more then than I do now, and now I know it. Thank you for the fullness and sweet regrets of never having enough time to fit all your friends and times in.
Cutting Commentary
By: Kenneth Spalding
Abortion foes never want To admit the fact they won’t confront: Those unviable tissues that they treasure Are not babies by any measure. Yet righteous guys, who never bear A mote of life, will fiercely swear, It’s against God’s will to terminate Cells gals alone can germinate. As long as dogma directs the issue Of what to make of useless tissue, Womens’ rights will be repressed By those who think they know what’s best.
So, it’s important that you know that I’m not leaving you because of anything you have done or anything you could have done. It’s not your size, it’s not your “I’m hot/I’m cold” fluctuations, it’s not your beauty, it’s not your intelligence, and you’re not Wisconsin Rapids, so we know it’s not your smell. No, what it comes down to is it’s no reason more than you have kept me so secure for so long - that I need to feel what it means to be insecure again. I need to rebel against my tendency towards complacency and find a challenge. I need to grow and miss you. It’s not you, it’s me. You have a lot of great people in you right now, doing a lot of great things, I am leaving you in capable hands. And I want to make sure that you hear it from me: never once in our eleven years did I ever once think about what it would be like to be in Plover. I knew what I had, and I was grateful. As I’ve learned over the years from watching others, there’s a good chance I’ll be back. And that ain’t necessarily a bad thing. All my love, Eric Mirrorage Robin Lee Ink and watercolor on paper creativecollectivity.ning.com
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to love sophia, michael cluff, sam gustafson, dan hedges, lm and xy. King
By: To Love Sophia King of your Burden Queen of Deceit King of Equity so discrete King of Chaos Queen of Art together forever always apart Coincidence Synchronous Unambiguous fate Not enough Heart too much too late King of my Burden Queen of Superficiality Queen of Assumption King of My Reality
Brahman Sam Gustafson Pencil and Photoshop Illustration
Widdershins
the frontal lobe as a broken type-writer
Demonize the different the ballast jettsioned for an equality only some can maintain in a reliquary way hidden like a johnnycake under a crepe suzette
Letters rain sideways and drop down from Gutenberg in the frontal lobe. The torrential imprinting tends to mechanize reality, so as to become an industrial unit where letter-shapes pay homage to semantics.
Enemies are better in grey grab swallowing crustless bread than ermines and lavender water.
Cry, I know it hurts But look, my heart is in my hands And I am right here beside you
By: Michael Cluff
By: Dan Hedges
#1 For My Sister By: LM and XY
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michael cluff, anand salve, to love sophia. Patrick Zimmerman By: Michael Cluff
The nine dollars I found today was a vindication of all the care I have put into her, my handicapped sister, all these years after Mom then Dad died quickly without prelude nineteen months apart. It may be interest from a karma I am sure I don’t totally deserve.
Marbles would not have hurt so much to the soul if that would have been what Josephine had pilfered while I was showering, sleeping, out of sight, indisposed; such orbs of swirling crystallines beg to be stolen the way I used to horde them.
I have not married because of her she is my albatross which I refuse to place fully upon some woman’s even willing neck.
But fives and ones tender of the land was too parasitic the rape of robbery, a lack of regard of who I was, am and who I keep tryng to overcome.
Josie’s thanks for that I do, never forthcoming, with a little, reasonable grudge, waiting on the wind, a wing and morsel of fool’s gold.
So the coins are in a safe deposit box the bills, a cabinet in my office.
I Know...
Reptile
I know somewhere you are fine, because you are mine. Let the world knows what happened last night. I called you after nine when you went from home. As the silence was your answer, my mind blowing from dirty picture. My heart began to mourn, when I started searching you. With broken heart, thinking of you, weeping inside, I left alone. With every corner and street, I searched you, thinking why you haven’t phoned? As it was cold, I could not resist my soul. I came across one street where no one was there. With my soul freezing my mind devastated into thundering. I asked angel “where is she?” Angel replied “Do you love her?” I said “Yes I love her more than my life”. Suddenly someone came from behind and hugged me tight, She replied “where you have been? I am sorry”. I felt nothing but hugged her as tight as I could. I kissed her and said “My life is nothing without you”. Absence of her for the short period as if like my life is in dead coffin. Today night I understood the true meaning of my life. Thanking angel for giving my life back and promised not to leave her alone. Wiping my tears she consoled me, we went happily to our sweet home. I want this story the world should know, And take the moral “never hurt the person whom they love the most”.
Lurking around like a Reptile Slithering into my home without a smile
By: Anand Salve
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By: To Love Sophia
Tail between your legs All part of the show Acting on your Addiction Pretending you didn’t know You’re only here for a tongue fuck
eric krszjzaniek. On why I am not fun at concerts.
By: Eric Krszjzaniek
I found out about Rage Against the Machine reuniting much the same way everyone else did, from their friend Grant yelling it in their ear at bar time four days before tickets went on sale. I don’t pretend to understand the marketing strategy involved with this method, but, hey, it seemed to work as tickets became sold out for the concert within hours. Having always felt slighted that Rage broke up before I could hop on the bandwagon and see them in concert, I knew that I had to be at this Alpine Valley concert. And how serendipitous that by this time I had gained rock credentials to get me in! I was a blogger for a small circulation magazine for record collectors! Exploiting these credentials for all they were worth, I was easily able to pay full price for a ticket while waiting in electronic line for 45 minutes on TicketMaster. com the Saturday morning they went on sale. Plus convenience charges that added up to $20. Sweet, sweet credentials. The week leading up to the concert was a week that gave Wisconsin the need for Federal Disaster Relief from flooding. Yes, it rained for a week straight and on the day of the concert it was a forecast of thunderstorms. The day started promising enough. No rain, just overcast skies, and me in my Nader/LaDuke t-shirt that I acquired about the time I got into Rage. Around Madison, however, two hours from the destination, the heavens opened up and poured a cold baptism upon this pilgrim with the same rage usually reserved for machines. Eventually, after one and a half hours of sitting in traffic, the rain lifted and I actually got into the concert and began looking for my “Lawn Seating.” With the Queens of the Stone Age closing down their set, I stood at the top of the ridge that once surrounded what one could guess held lawn at one point in its history – but, no, not tonight. Tonight the “Lawn Seating” was “Mud Sliding.” The Hollywood Hills are more stable then what slid before me, as the teeming masses that surrounded and stood
below collectively struggled for footing. But, perhaps it was their form of dance. I have been to Grateful Dead alum concerts, so I am no stranger to erratic and spasmodic movements that some call “feeling the music.” Still, I believe the collective seizure was a result of a 45-degree slope, six days of rain and no grass holding the 4 inches of mud to the bedrock below. Partly sliding and partly walking sideways with hiking boots, I proceeded down to the belly of the beast in an attempt to stake out the best view of the stage. I followed the one path that existed, the one path that was not lined and crammed with human beings… groping, ever groping, human beings…along the perimeter of the 150 foot mudslide from the top of the ridge to the fence below. It was a majestic sight. The drunk and the drugged throwing reason and caution – and all things that make a society – to the wind, running and belly flopping face first in a mud deluge that would only stop when they hit concrete gutters and a metal fence at the beginning of assigned seating below. “Assigned seating?! Damn it, this blogging gig doesn’t mean crap!” I thought. But, then I thought, “No, this is how it should be, this is the experience. This is how Rage would want me to witness them.” When I reached the depths of the mud bath and spasmodic motion and the drunken revelry, standing like a mountain goat before rock’s altar, it hit me, figuratively and literally: Rage fans are a bunch of #$#%$#% (these symbols do not represent the actual letters of my opinion). Figurative in the sense that no one would move or help me move, and literal in the sense that someone threw a mud ball at my head while another guy grabbed my shirt in an attempt to bring me down with him as he stumbled forward yelling “Wooo!” into my ear. Then the human deluge occurred. I always imagined that being caught in a cattle stampede would be scary and potentially deadly, but after 1,000 people sliding as one and smelling of a mix of Marion Barry and Slash comes at you, little fear remains in your soul if you survive.
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eric krszjzaniek (con’t). This Concertental Drift (copyright pending) was all the impetus needed, as I began to scale the mudslide and find a place on cement. Walking with the care of a tightrope walker, screaming frat boys funneled past on their stomachs and backs screeching “Wooooo!” and reaching the cement perch that jutted out into the brown abyss of mud and frat, just in time to see an old woman take the stage. I have no idea what she said, but it must have been very wise, because after all, she was old. I do know what the last three words were that she said, because she shouted them with a raised fist: “Against the Machine.” Leading me to believe that either the fourth to last word she said was “Rage” or that she was a Pat Buchanan-voting old Jewish woman still upset over Florida in 2000, and she was, in fact, just against voting machines. But when the lights went down, I knew then that, yes, she had been introducing the band. This was it, the payoff, my rock climax. What would Zack de la Rocha look like after these years of solitude? Would he, like Axl and Elvis, have gotten fat? Would he be wearing sweatpants and Nikes? But more importantly, would he still have those damn dreadlocks that had inspired so many white kids of my generation to embrace something that looks terrible on them? The question was soon answered as the band tore into “Testify” and Zack demonstrated that in the ten years between Battle of Los Angeles’s release and this concert, he had stayed in shape and practiced his stage moves by lighting himself on fire and jumping around a lot. It seemed to work, he looked fit and he moved with the agility of a man half his age – which thanks to Wikipedia, I can tell you would have been an 18.5 year old. Also, he cut the dreads. Do you hear me impressionable young white youth hoping to make a statement? Zack says it’s okay to cut the dreads. And the jumping! Oh, how every member loved his jumping and kicking! After a few songs, watched mainly on the giant televisions surrounding the stage because I had given up my slippery spot in order for stability (and, yes, I know
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how much I paid for a ticket in order to watch a TV…a machine television, nonetheless!), I thought it time to prove to others I had been at this event by purchasing a t-shirt. Because buying crap is what the concert experience is built around, do not let anyone tell you otherwise. With true indignation I discovered that the only t-shirt that commemorated this specific concert was sold out in my size in all colors it was available in. So, for the fourth time in my life, I found myself cursing this average build of mine. Settling for less and paying for more because I was still in need of a shirt, I sprang for the “red star” logo with the band name on the back. Turning back to the music with my newly acquired swag covering my muddy Nader/LaDuke shirt, I was overcome by the vision of sheer excess that occurs at concerts – even concerts like this where part of the proceeds go to help the “good fight.” Though it would seem the “best fight” would be to keep thousands upon thousands of drunken people from the ability to purchase plastic containers that they will just throw at any guy with a Nader/LaDuke shirt on…I will find that person who did that…or from even traveling en masse to a place where the sheer girth of human filth assuredly kills some eco system somewhere. Plastics, fossil fuels, souvenirs, waste upon waste. This is not what Rage Against the Machine was about! What had happened? It was then that I recalled a track on RATM’s live album Live at the Grand Olympic Auditorium, in which Zack begins a song by asking the crowd if there are any Zapatistas out there that night. To my amazement, the crowd cheered. This was either a lie or the largest gathering of indigenous Mayans outside of Chiapas ever assembled. And if this was such a gathering, or these people were so in tune with such important political causes, then why was there still suffering and turmoil? Why was there still a problem? And I wonder still: can music help political causes or does it destroy them to some end? Can political causes become mainstream and retain their legitimacy? There is a dangerous dance that Rage Against the Machine has
eric krszjzaniek (con’t). been a part of since its first release in 1992. I fear there is an undercurrent of undermining going on when serious causes are attached to something that gains mainstream success and popularity. Does everyone that wears Rage Against the Machine “red star” realize it is from the flag of the Zapatista Army of National Liberation and that it symbolizes something more than a cool logo? (Did I?) Do all the people who talk about how awesome Rage Against the Machine sound and sport the “red star” really believe in antiglobalization causes as they sip their Starbucks, wear their Nikes and shop at the Gap?
Then it hit me and I knew, Rage Against the Machine is simply an experiment put forth by Stephen Greenblatt, and with this I became peaceful. And upon leaving the concert I totally bought an unlicensed t-shirt from some guy selling shirts out of a garbage bag in the parking lot. I knew Rage would approve. Of course, they were out of my size, but it was so cheap and illegal how could I not shop there? You know, kind of like Wal-Mart.
There probably aren’t any good answers to these questions, but that is ultimately what is become of rock in the modern era: we spout what we don’t believe or we believe what we spout and no one takes us seriously.
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anand salve, michael cluff, marc carver, lm & xy. Happy for you...
Odyssey
I am happy for you, because you are the reason that makes my day, Beside every person you are the one who takes me higher. Even though you are not with me, my heart is still beating for you, The soul of yours has struck my heart.
The trail does not drip nor holds any treasure excepting the enduring of a daily corkscrew which penetrates a surface of ersatz waistcoats and polemics; drilling downward into the real pith and sauciness I plan to carry as far as need be to reach Ithaca again wherever it may really be and whenever it will let me back in finally.
By: Anand Salve
I am happy for you, because you are the one who inspires me, You are the person who makes me brighter in dark. You are the fire in my heart that always lights up, And you are the reason for every million smile. I am happy for you, because you are the guard in this desert rain, And even though my heart is in pain, I am smiling for you. Stay with me my love, my heart will die inside if you will not be there, And I will lose you forever in my life. I am happy for you, because I remember your voice deep inside my soul, calling me, I want to be yours forever, Baby don’t leave me alone, I will give all happiness coz you are so close to my heart. Missing you from the bottom of my heart, I am crazy for you when you see me gracefully. My life has taken a new turn when you stepped in my life and gave all happiness that filled my soul. I still don’t know your secret love, but still I am happy for you. You are the sunshine in this beautiful world, the dark world lights up because of your smile. Until the last breath of mine I will be loving you forever. I know my love is so bizarre, and I will let you to know it and feel it. You made me mad for you, you made my heart to pumped fast, I will never leave you alone till the end of my life, but still I will always be happy for you, for you and only for you…………
Moon Cat By: LM & XY
Lunar meow--------Lunar cat box------------Lunar mouse hunt-----------Lunar soft spot for Tom (Jerry’s a wicked rat!)-----
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By: Michael Cluff
Redemption By: Marc Carver
I looked into the busy road A heron was sat in the road I looked at his sad, sad eyes. Cars swerved around him as he begged for help He did not want to die there. I walked into the road, as a bus came toward me Picked him up in my hands and the bus slowed How soft were those feathers I took him to a patch of grass and laid him down. He started to gasp for air as I looked into his eyes I saw that his time was up. Death, as natural as life, Had taken him. I had never seen anything die before And I hope, That I never will again.
marc carver. Godless
By: Marc Carver All saints have to have sinners All gods must have devils, If only, to judge themselves as great. If we were all good then we would never know how good we were. I am not sure I like life too much It is filled with many things I don’t like Filled, with godless hope. People that only care about money People that only care about looking like the best guy in the room. I know I will never be the best guy in the room And I take great satisfaction from that If nothing else But just sometimes I read a poem Or meet someone who is good Or will just do some small thing And I know that there will always be hope. Always love People holding hands, People smiling at each other People understanding one another Able to spend time. These are the days I live for. And only these.
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lm and xy, chris talbot-heindl. Pay Methany Al DiMeola Bill Frisell
Three Guitars By: LM and XY
Country Acoustic
On a Texas plain in a Tennessee valley Nebraska flat-lands New Mexico steppes
I set up shop in an old jazz haunt Where we don’t start until after midnight
I pick it slow hum boot taps a rooster crows I’ll write a melody for a lost country for simple days forgotten
Hawaii Slack Key
Breezes blowin’ ocean showin’ Ohana blood drips into the strings
An echo of paniolo a dash of cowboy Country side fishin’ plate lunch wishin’ Gabby and IZ Dancing Cat Plucked with Aloha!
Electric City Jazz
Country mouse and island mouse Welcome to my skyscrape house Say:
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Underneath: Sarah B. Chris Talbot-Heindl Ink and gouache on paper www.talbot-heindl.com
dan hedges, andrew peterson of OVER NIGHT EMPIRE. Gila Monsters By: Dan Hedges
We drag a full set of oak pews into the Sonoran desert with the singular purpose of revering a medium-large-square-unfufilled canvas. We sit, We are boy scouts, We are nobody. In our minds we proceed To un-paint disorder with reverse strokes  of the haunting tense. Suddenly, the surrounding desert manifests As a brass Gila Monster hood ornament That tethers on the semantic buzz of constant elegy, and levitates above Arizona in our minds, before we crab-step back to Tuscon.
Meus 3 Andrew Peterson of OVER NIGHT EMPIRE Painting 17
robin lee, donors, index. advertisers Bitchin’ Kitsch
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mcfishenburger
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Second Space
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Shankland for Assembly
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www.talbot-heindl.com
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artists Marc Carver Michael Cluff
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Sam Gustafson
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Dan Hedges Eric Krszjzaniek
Painted Turtle Robin Lee
Ink and watercolor on paper creativecollectivity.ning.com
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Robin Lee
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LM and XY
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Andrew Peterson of OVER NIGHT EMPIRE
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kaleeM rajA
cover
Anand Salve
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douglas somers Kenneth Spalding Chris Talbot-Heindl To Love Sophia
we love our donors!
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We love our donors, and to prove it, we’re going to let you know who they are. Without their generosity, the Bitchin’ Kitsch would probably not make it through the year. If you would like to become a donor and see your name here, email chris@talbot-heindl.com and make your pledge. acquaintences of the bitchin’ kitsch ($1-10) Colin Bares, Casey Bernardo, Eric Krszjzaniek, Dana Lawson, Jason Loeffler, Justin Olszewski friends of the bitchin’ kitsch ($11-50) Charles Kelly, Kenneth Spalding lovers of the bitchin’ kitsch ($51-100) Scott Cook, Jan Haskell, Keith Talbot partners of the bitchin’ kitsch ($101 & up) The Talbot-Heindl’s, Felix Gardner
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a talbot-heindl project 1600 reserve st, stevens point, wi 54481 www.talbot-heindl.com