the
b’k
bitchin’ kitsch
Volume 5, Issue 12 December 2014
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Thank you everyone who made this year another special one: This year we saw 1,101 submissions and we were honored to accept 298. We reached 245 followers on Facebook and 398 on Twitter, 4,997 registered users on our website and 259 people for our monthly newsletter. We launched our very own calendar featuring our unique and dorky submitters. All in all, this has been a memorable and wonderful year. Thank you so much for supporting The B’K and the arts! We literally could not do it without you! 2014 Covers
the
b’k
2014 Submitters Acuna, Hector
Eckles, Hannah M.
Kiselevach, Laura
Eder, Lara
Knight, Jamie Lee
Ahmad, Arif
Escort, The
Krszjzaniek, Eric
Ahmad, Shanzeh
Eubet, Raegette
Kurtz, Craig
Alston, Mel Jr.
Flaco, Ray
Larson, Shelby
Andreasen, Adam
Ford, Rachel
Lee, John
Ashley, Michael
Freezy
Leib, Ben
Bardookie, Roo
Grabois, Mitchell
Longe, Patrick
Barnes, Christopher
Grayhurst, Allison
Lowe, Jack Phillips
Beck, Gary
Grey, John
Lunatic Swan Studios
Beg, Mandal Bijoy
Gurney, Kenneth
Mack, Trel
Brennan, Tim J.
Haber, Ira Joel
Mahwite, Kudzai
Brown, Amanda
Hardie, Brian Anthony
Maier, Mark
Buckles, Sissy
Harrison, Dawnell
Marshall, Josh
Bullet Brak
Haskell, Jan
Marvin, Louis
Bunty Beats
HeartFlo
McGhee, Myron
Cano, Valentina
Heindl, Bleu
Metz, Tim
Carver, Marc
Heindl, Paula
Moran, Sarah Frances
Cathey, William
Hill, Jenn
Moro, Ozzy
Christie, Morgan
Hobkirk, Rob
Mr 703
Chox-Mak
Huffman, A.J.
Mundan, Max
Clay, Louie
Interstate Snake
Mwanaka, Tendai R.
Cluff, Mike
James, Colin
MXSFLXWETICZ
Cope, Russ
Jebsen, Jens
N-Tone
Cummins, Louis
Jenson, Ivan
Niditch, BZ
Da Frezhman
Jewett, Mike
Noah, Stanley M.
Debeljacki, Tatjana
Jones, Stephanie
Page, Lauren
DeHart, JD
Jus Daz
Parkin, Tim
DJ YRS Jerzy
Karos, George K.
Parren, Kristina
Dragona, Danielle
Keith, Michael C.
Parsons, Zak
Duffey, Emery A.
Kerimian, Kay
Penney, Toby
bitchin’ kitsch
Volume 5, Issue 12 December 2014
2014 Donors Haskell, Jan Jones, Stephanie Richard, Charles The Talbot-Heindls’ West, Tallulah
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Conscience. That stuff will drive you nuts, Sissy Buckles
Chewing the fat, Sissy Buckles
Hot Enough For Me, John Grey
For the sake of heavens, for heaven’s sake, Arif Ahmad
Philibert, Leslie
To Love Sophia
Pino, Robert
Tomlinson, Marin
Poddar, Kushal
Trilla, Ray
Pohlplatz, Kirsten
Troy Ave
Polk, Douglas
Unger, Adam
Pondea
Veenum, Jack
Prihoda, Michael
Waldman, Dr. Mel
Provencio, Jess
Walton, Jeremiah
Quick, Rich
Ward, Anthony
RAB
Werachowski, Danny
Richard, Charles
West, Tallulah
Change You Can Believe In, Caroline Taylor
Ringlund, Andrew J.
Wlkn_Fire
Sun Madness, Sy Roth
A new world, Josh Marshall
Rockman, Aura
Wyatt Dun, Robin
Roe, Chris
Xavier, Peter
Ronsmans, Alexis Hope
Yuan, Changming
The Bumble Bee, The Bird, and The Money Tree, Louis Marvin
She was a picture in old Spanish lace, Sissy Buckles
Rosenthal, Joanne
Zable, Jeffrey
Rite, Morgan Christie
Roth, Sy
Zurawski, Jacob
The Fifty-Seven Other Ways, Michael Prihoda
Rudin, Kathy Rutter, David Salzano, April Sarkar, Sreyash Savage, W. Jack Scott, David Seis, Kyle Sen Adreyo Sen, Gautam Sermersheim, David Smoke Dollaz Spruiell, Chase Stamp, Laura Steimel, Bekah Still Rill Supriye, Sushant Sweet, Malice Sweet, Mario Talbot-Heindl, Chris Talbot-Heindl, Dana Taylor, Caroline Taylor, Kristopher D.
2014 Features fuzzy slippers, Jess Provencio A somewhat rambling..., Eric Krszjzaniek Reflex, Lara Eder Doppleganger, Valentina Cano Afterwards, Myron McGhee No Hemingway, Sy Roth Uncle Ray and the Double-Wide Wiener Dog, Louis Marvin twitter poetry, Kay Kerimian Where Are the Mandelas, The Gandhis of This Century, Arif Ahmad Blessed Rifles, Jeremiah Walton
In the Circles of Progress, George K. Karos Copycat (Or Why I Won’t Paint That For You), Amanda Brown
Poetaster, Michael C. Keith Bull Terrier, Christopher Barnes Purple., Lauren Page
Untitled, Bekah Steimel
I moved like a moon, Allison Grayhurst Brooklyn to Prescott, AZ to Texas: Travel Plans for Cupcakes, Jack Veenum
After We’d Seen Too Much, Michael Prihoda Not with Just Our Eyes and Ears, Louie Clay First Date, Robin Wyatt Dunn
The Newest Improvement in Failure: An Apocalyptic Comedy, Craig Kurtz
Letter to a Friend, Andrew J. Ringlund
Butthole Problems: Constipation, Lunatic Swan Studios
Losses, Dr. Mel Waldman
Breakfast at Nine O’Clock, Kristina Parren A blind theme of sensual deliverance, Allison Grayhurst Cocoa, Andrey Sen We Had Some Woods, April Salzano Awaken, Jan Haskell The Day That Scott Walker Invated My Workspace, Chris Talbot-Heindl
In Gandhi’s Country, Sushant Supriye
You go girl, Arif Ahmad and Shanzeh Ahmad This Book is Boring as Hell: A Monologue, JD DeHart Your Name, It Tastes Like Cigarettes and Shame, Max Mundan Chinese Food: Three Dishes, Louis Marvin Hushed Ambience, David Sermersheim
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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. All submissions are due on the 26th for the following month’s issue. Please review the submission guidelines on our Submissions page (www.talbot-heindl.com/bitchin_kitsch/submissions) before submitting your work.
community copies:
Stevens Point readers, sit down and read The Bitchin’ Kitsch at our community locations: zest, the coffee studio, tech lounge, and noel fine arts center.
advertising:
The Bitchin’ Kitsch is offering crazy low rates. Order ads on our Shop The B’K page (www.talbot-heindl.com/support_us/shop_thebk).
donation and acquisition:
Printing costs can be a bitch, which is why we continuously look for donations. Any amount helps and is appreciated. We also sell back copies of The B’K. To do either, visit our Shop The B’K page (www.talbotheindl.com/support_us/shop_thebk).
resources
On top of being the best publication ever created by human hands, The B’K would also like to present other opportunities that may be helpful to you as creators. If you have suggestions that could improve our list, please let us know. Resources we are privy to can be found at our Resources page (www.talbot-heindl.com/bitchin_kitsch/resources).
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table of contents.
8 – Get It, Rob Hobkirk
18 – Peregrine Winds, Sy Roth
9 – Accommodations Or, Advise for the Disingenuous, Craig Kurtz
18 – biking incident, Danny Werachowski
10-11 – The Party Spokesman, Gautam Sen
19 – Privilege, Chris Roe
12 – I Am a Terrorist, Sarah Frances Moran
19 – Melancholy Thoughts Persisting Through the Night, Kristopher D. Taylor 20 – Cold Night, Ozzy Moro 21 – My Calico, Rob Hobkirk 22 – Joggle, Brian Hardie 23 – Stress, Adam Andreasen 24 - Donors and Index
Rob Hobkirk - pg. 8
On the Cover
Wicked Owl Adam Andreasen Illustration marker facebook.com/AndreasenArts
On the Back Cover Comic Jock Dana Talbot-Heindl Graphite on paper www.talbot-heindl.com
In This Issue 2-3 Year in Review 6-7 – Where the Wheels Fell Off, Jack Phillips Lowe
Adam Andreasen - pg. 13 13 – Exhaustion, Adam Andreasen 14 – Field Trip, Hannah M. Eckles 15 – Signposts, JD DeHart 16 – CrabApple, Chris TalbotHeindl 17 – Wanweird, Dr. Mel Waldman
Chris Talbot-Heindl - pg. 16
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jack phillips lowe.
Where the Wheels Fell Off By: Jack Phillips Lowe
It would have to be somebody foreign. Americans have always required a foreigner — Thomas Paine in Common Sense, Alexis de Tocqueville in Democracy in America, Charles Dickens in American Notes — to explain to us when, where and why our shit hit the fan. This time, the job belongs to comedian Karl Pilkington. Karl, being Britain’s favorite lunkhead, is therefore just the man to dumb the issue down so that even Sarah Palin could follow along without footnotes. It would make a fine Syfy Channel travelogue — An Idiot Uproots the Idiocy in Modern America. Picture it: Karl, traveling back in time in a steampunk contraption borrowed from Doctor Who, visits the Land of the Free in the watershed year of 1984. The program contains many telltale scenarios: Secret Service men ejecting Karl from the White House after he confronts President Reagan on Reaganomics; Karl riding on the back of Malcolm Forbes’ motorcycle; Karl narrowly escaping a lynch mob at an NRA convention in Dallas, Texas after Charlton Heston singles him out as “a shifty-eyed limey pinko.”
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jack phillips lowe (con’t).
The show’s climax, however, finds Karl standing outside of a surprisingly nondescript locale: a Sam Goody records and tapes store at the Stratford Square Mall in Bloomingdale, Illinois. There, we see that a group of teenagers has gathered to laugh and point at Karl’s orange-shaped bald head. On the program’s soundtrack, Journey sings “Don’t Stop Believing.” After cadging some gummy bears from one of the kids, Karl turns to the camera and sums the matter up thusly: “Here’s where the wheels fell off of Uncle Sam’s gravy train. It wasn’t so much Ronald Reagan’s half-assed policies or the greedy corporate culture. They both helped, of course. It was really these bleedin’ mall rats — pissin’ about all day, eatin’ crap, wastin’ time and money on silly shit, while lettin’ serious things go to hell. In time, the mall rats got older, but they never really grew up. And now, they run the country.” Karl frowns and spits out a gummy bear. “Fookin’ candy’s stale,” he grunts, stepping off-camera. The credits roll and the screen fades to black.
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rob hobkirk.
Get It Rob Hobkirk House paint on burlap on panel http://hobkirkartblog.blogspot.com/
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craig kurtz.
Accommodations
Or, Advice for the Disingenuous
By: Craig Kurtz
The point of view is up to you, there’s many choices to peruse; stoic, nihilist, sensualist, pragmatic, pious, Socratic. Try Hegel, Nietzsche or Lacan, a side of Kierkegaard and Kant — whatever rationale you seek, some august school of thought will fit. In life, all motives start somewhere — the stomach, loins and Id contend; there’s glory, wealth, sex and control or, failing these, sweet old revenge. But “doing what the hell I want” seems crass without some valorizing clause; the trick, my friend, is to qualify your not-so-disinterested aims.
If it rankles your conscience to backbite, plot or cheat outright, all this weltschemerz can be allayed by ageless sophistries, waylaid. Knives in the back — it’s relative; pig-headed graft — jesuitical; there is no metanarrative on earth casuistry cannot improve. Discrepancies abound amply in tomes’ endnotes and translations; one can justify most crimes with axioms without context and ideologies remixed by academics and pundits who accommodate most any scheme with theorems, postulates and cant. So! The point of view’s all yours, weltanschauung is versatile: the timeless texts in athenaeum await your nimble apothegm. There is no stance you can’t posit with citations and a filched wit; all that counts is your defense confounds ethos, and common sense.
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gautam sen. The Party Spokesman By: Gautam Sen
The report that a leader from my party Has been caught on camera Kicking one of his domestic workers Is mischievous And wholly fabricated. What actually took place Is this: The domestic had been attacked By a flying object Of considerable size That had been hurled at him By an unknown intruder, Who fled the scene Immediately after committing the heinous act. The party leader concerned, Who was then in friendly conversation With the domestic, Had spotted the air-borne missile At the nick of time And, to prevent it from striking Its target, perhaps fatally, Had, with the greatest presence of mind imaginable, And an athleticism remarkable for his age, Thrust out a helpful leg which, As you will appreciate, Has a far greater reach than either of his hands, To push the domestic firmly and effectively Out of harm’s way. It is most unfortunate
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gautam sen (con’t).
That this graceful and thoughtful act, Which is indicative Of an uncommon largeness of heart, Is now being construed In the worst manner possible. While the party leader, Taking into consideration The trauma suffered by the said domestic, And the latter’s consequent need for quiet and privacy, Has desisted from going to the police on the matter, He has, nevertheless, ensured Increased security protection around his house, Where the domestic also resides. I would like to take this opportunity to affirm That the party leader in question Has always treated his domestic workers Like members of his very own family, As his behavior in the present case Most eloquently testifies. The entire sequence of events, Including the mysterious appearance Of the slanderous photograph, Smacks of a well-planned conspiracy, And we strongly condemn this nefarious design To malign our party, Whose rising popularity Is causing obvious concern and trepidation In certain quarters. That is all I have to say on the matter, And I leave it To the people of our great country To come to their own conclusions. Thank you.
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sarah frances moran. I Am A Terrorist By: Sarah Frances Moran
It turns out that, Pat Robertson is onto me. It turns out that, I’m a terrorist. I have no plots to bomb anything. I don’t care how you dress who you love where you come from or to what God you say your prayers. I’m a very care-free, happy and tolerant person. But…. I’m in love with a woman. And not only am I in love but I want my love to be treated with the same respect anyone else’s is. I want to hold hands in public without fear I want the right to get married I want my short hair to NOT be an immediate head turner in the women’s bathroom. I want my love to NOT be a valid reason for losing my job. I want my love to be free and open. I want acceptance. Please be aware that this is an extremely militant agenda. There is a good chance that having read this, you could all leave here lesbians. Even the men. I’m that radical. When I’m done here, I’m going to head back to my Gay-cave of master plotting, so that the plan to take over the world can commence. I am the lesbian Megamind and you all will be my minions.
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adam andreasen.
Exhaustion Adam Andreasen Illustration marker facebook.com/AndreasenArts
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hannah m. eckles. Field Trip
By: Hannah M. Eckles trash cans full with heaps of beer bottles, and empty souls. I graze my hand across the kitchen counter, where it consumes a layer of loneliness and regret. laughter rummages through the outskirts of the cracked, shitty, tile floor. you’re unseen while I struggle with the in between, wishing I wasn’t as old as nineteen and then I see the yellow door. my toes are light across the floor as if they’ve never took a step before. I peer in, just to see your body roll over revealing a bruised chest while sweat trickles down your forehead and lands on the slight dimple in your cheek the days have passed when you were loved by the sun, as I looked up from my swing and heard you sing, “Unlovable” by the Smiths. Eight years gone, no word and here I am a wanderer in your house, watching you through the yellow door that the sun must’ve let me in.
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jd dehart. Signposts By: JD DeHart
The princess is really a rebel but wait the frog is the villain. At last we know the truth. He’s got the dapper velvet look of a nemesis, the bumpy exterior. You were thinking prince. Think not. How’s that for turning a trope? The queen has a shaved head, the jester is the genius, the king the clod. Notice how the queen rolls in, tucked in a lacy tank, Molotov cocktail in hand. All signposts of subtle creative change as the narrative approaches the end of work day, drained coffee mug, hearth with no sparks left behind, the characters endless iterations of the same fairy folk.
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chris talbot-heindl.
CrabApple Chris Talbot-Heindl Digitally enhanced ink on paper www.talbot-heindl.com
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dr. mel waldman. Wanweird
By: Dr. Mel Waldman When the world swirls away from you, old man, you spin around on the merry-g-round in your head, clutching yesterday, and yearning for lost time. Ancient one, you live in the past, ensconced in a womb chair, that clings to you as you-to it, for only shattered memories feed your wounded spirit with sacred breaths. No one remembers you, antediluvian man, for all who loved you sleep in the earth now. And no one loves you, you believe, for you exist only in the mirror of the past. Who are you if your flesh is invisible, as you trudge across the deep snow, over alien streets, of your existence, inhaling the eerie miasma of unreality? Everlasting pain eats your soul, a lovely butterfly whose papilionaceous beauty dissolves and dies each day. Is your battered clock whirling out of control, dancing with the looming shadows of dusty death? Once, perhaps, you were as glorious as a Piaget Manchette, a gorgeous watch, magnificent and sexy and powerful with jade and diamonds. Once, perhaps, you were as lovely as a peacock’s dazzling feathers. Resurrect yourself inside the whirligig of your broken mind. Don’t give up, old man. Despair is the skin of wanweird, an unhappy fate. Don’t give up, beautiful old man. We are one, and I love you.
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sy roth, danny werachowski. Peregrine Winds By: Sy Roth
In morning mist eaten by an indolent sun, she strode in the west arms robot dancing to the plucked strings of her shamisen. Discordant vowels, followed by non-rhyming verses wrapped in her circling ambulation followed along the path of her. Round the court, porcelain figure, her getas wore tracks scraping kutani markings into the asphalt. Wind from her flailing arms kicked up. Plucked my hair into a comb-over ponytail high into the air. Her peregrine winds swirled around, rajioo taisou in her mind. Arms, cutting a counterclockwise path, whipped the wind that traveled my way. I watched the morning, as she slipped into its folds, confines of memory. And the winds slapped a relentless beat-box against my ears in reminiscence.
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biking incident
by Danny Werachowski we ran into each other on bikes from this angle his adam’s apple is noticeable he asks to buy a cigarette so i give it to him for free there’s a tuft of green bristling out the gravel we say something or other we pull down the rain in long strands palms up under the clouds “sorry about the rain” as he cycles away
chris roe, kristopher d. taylor. Privilege By: Chris Roe
Today I have eaten, Today I was able to drink Clean, uncontaminated water. Today I have a house to live in And a bed to sleep in, Today other members Of my human family Starved to death
www.talbot-heindl.com
Melancholy Thoughts Persisting Through the Night By: Kristopher D. Taylor
I flip the bird and scream, not noticing the irony until the next morning, wondering why these crows have so much free time at night, when all the others rejoice in the quiet.
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ozzy moro. Cold Night
By: Ozzy Moro
I sneak to get high Oh so high Mesmerising stars flash before my eyes The night so beautiful Oh so bright So crisp, so cold So full of life I drink in public I’ll be your entertainment I sing, I dance I’m a stumbling comic Eccentric, erratic Unpredictable Just how you like babe For the moment, not forever
Cigarette Cigarette I love the night I fight I’ll sing your song With violence I serenade strangers With heartfelt love I share white lines with companions Made this night
Cocaine confidant I’ll walk you home I’ll touch your ass I’ll forget where I live I’ll wander in wonder Against the wind I shout at the rain I kick the walls I’ll punch the air And strangle myself With another cigarette The devil is sly He plays the friend He laughs and smiles His arm ‘round my shoulder I wobble I fall He leaves me alone To die, I’m cold In my own piss puddle
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rob hobkirk.
My Calico Rob Hobkirk House paint on burlap on panel http://hobkirkartblog.blogspot.com/
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brian hardie. Joggle
By: Brian Hardie from the face flowered before magic feels coated with candy the last view of my passion felt where time dealt With the ink threatening to melt Everything I wrote She began to remove my belt the innocent years a time the regret the moment 
 Realize life’s spun the shiggy then bam. Fucking bam.
Second Space Send proposals to Steph Jones at jonesin54481@yahoo.com.
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adam andreasen.
Stress Adam Andreasen Illustration marker, pen, & ink facebook.com/AndreasenArts
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donors, index. artists Andreasen, Adam
cover, 13, 23
DeHart, JD
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Eckles, Hannah M.
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Kurtz, Craig
Hardie, Brian
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Lowe, Jack Phillips
Hobkirk, Rob
8, 21
9 6-7 12
Sen, Gautam
Moro, Ozzy
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Talbot-Heindl, Chris
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Roe, Chris
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Talbot-Heindl, Dana
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Roth, Sy
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Taylor, Kristopher D.
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Waldman, Dr. Mel
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Werachowski, Danny
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Moran, Sarah Frances
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, Teri Edlebeck, Stephanie Jones, Eric Krszjzaniek, Dana Lawson, Jason Loeffler, Justin Olszewski friends of the bitchin’ kitsch ($11-50) - Charles Richard, Kenneth Spalding, Tallulah West lovers of the bitchin’ kitsch ($51-100) - Scott Cook, Keith Talbot partners of the bitchin’ kitsch ($101-1,000) - Felix Gardner, Jan Haskell parents of the bitchin’ kitsch ($1,001-10,000) - none yet, become a parent! demi-gods of the bitchin’ kitsch ($10,001 & up) - The Talbot-Heindl’s
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