Nocturnal Enlightenment

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR

Dear noctámbulos,

This one’s for you, gargoyles of the nightvalley. Stoners hitting up seven eleven for late night munchies. To those that speak to the espiritus chocarreros in the shadows. To the noctambulants from Pacoima to West Hills every Saturday night; to all the exhausted commuters back home standing inside the bus. To the insomniacs rolling up another blunt on the porch. To the romantics overlooking this electric crater from the hood of their car. To the poet watching a balloon slowly spin alone in their room.

Out here there’s always a show going on in someone’s backyard. There’s always some weird experimental shit going on with 808s, acid, and wax. At night pigeons hold satanic rituals outside of DIY venues.

This issue was born in a laptop screen. It was named and brainstormed in pieces at all the breweries all over the 818–yes, we’re still on our shit. The poems, stories, and visual art in our fifth issue explores life under pitch-black skies and neon lights. We are excited to feature 26 artists from the SFV and beyond express what illuminates inspiration for them after sundown.

We’ve compiled an issue born out of stories that go like this: It’s 1 am. You just ate a shroom and the cops are raiding the place (a residential house where the show organizers parents’ live). You came to support your buddy and his noise set still had twenty more minutes to go. You don’t have a ride back home. You probably won’t but your phone will certainly die. But maybe your new homie’s got your back. Sounds like a fucking nightmare and somehow it works out.

It’s born out of memories like the one of la mismisima muerte ambling out of a hole in-the-wall nightclub in Reseda wearing a black cocktail dress with a neon light stare dead fixed to my eyes–you bet I looked back. Rolling by Las Hadas, ponte a bailar Salsa. Go to El Sierras a bailar quebradita que mañana hay tacos de birria.

Don’t mind me. I’m trying to say we’re transients of the night becoming aware of our mortality. Only in the dead of night do we question our solitude. Only then do we turn a screen to drown out the silence of the shadows. We emotionally dump after drinking one single stout and joke around but we get to know each other more closely sip by sip. Like John Rechy wrote, we’re “embarking on that journey through nightcities and nightlives–looking for I don’t know what–perhaps some substitute for salvation.”

Darkness shadows and the moon are the ultimate muse. We become alive at the dying of the light until we collapse in bed to shut out the madness because the real nightmare happens when your eyes are wide open so you search for that medicina, un poco de mota…un poco de baile y desmadre no le hace daño a nadie.

Iván Salinas Assistant Editor

How to Invoke La Llorona

Sleepwalk along the sewers between Figueroa and First Street

Where she was last heard a coyote’s howl coiled in moonlight

Light three velas beside the concrete

Reza to las tres Santitas del Barrio:

La Santa Maldita, patron saint of hickies and septum rings, Come Forth

La Santa Cabrona, patron saint of moshpits and broken noses, Come Forth

La Santa Malvada, patron saint of tattoos and skateboard wrecks, Come Forth

In the name of the Mothers and of the Daughters and of the Holy Me I call upon you, Llorona, luz obscura, luna llena full moon, dark light La más chingona de las chingonas, Come Forth

Smudge manzanilla oil around your eyes

Pinch a blue spider bite above your lashes

If that doesn’t work,

Follow her steps through the Sixth Street Bridge Drown your old clothes Apply violet lipstick, a spiked denim vest Hail Llorona, la homegirl más firme, Who walks amongst these callejones Searching for sus hijas, Las hijas de la chingada como yo

Inhale her reflection rising through gas puddles Hail Llorona, full of rebeldía, Deliver me into temptation And keep me there Cast a storm shadowed above the city, a halo of smoke Rosie Angelica Alonso

Evan Lopez-Anaya @portra818

TRIAD

A swirling mist engulfs the streets. Without a watch Time would be unknown.

A triad cloaked in black Explore where others do not Knowing no moon shines tonight.

Their steps part the path Aiming only for the ruins within sight. For the mist engulfs the streets And no moon shines tonight.

Trails are left behind with the shroud of branches blackening their path Piercing cracked steps, Shadowing loosened handles, And creeping through cracked glass Of township ruins in the mist Where no moon that shines tonight.

Scattering pebbles kicked by curbsides, Cascading liquids wasted along sewage drains, Deafening echoes unclaimed break the winds Silencing creatures of the night,

That fear the kids in the mist With open bottles in the streets Under no moon that shines tonight.

Jennifer Baptiste @wheresmsb

Nightclub

Valerie, darling @softcorekitsch

The clock is quietly ticking past midnight as I finish my drink.

I tilt the last two tendrils of liquor onto my tongue. Easing the coupe from my lips, I set it on the table, across from her. Her dress is as black as pitch and drips even more slowly down her legs.

My red lipstick is on the rim of the glass and I pass a glance at her thigh as she runs her pink fingernails up her skin. Meeting her eyes, I grasp the transparent stem and push it to her. I reach beneath the table and find her knee, easing it open. She slides her dress up to her hips. I watch as she takes my glass in her hands and guides it between her legs, swiping the red mark up her lips: a mirror image ready to kiss.

Los Gatos Negros

I only knew her in the shadows we were black cats sleek and supernatural she was on the hunt I was just chasing my tail again navigating a desolate landscape we found some solace in one another then got lost the shadows are where it stayed love, undomesticated to me, she is more mythical creature than human being a kind of Godly shapeshifter her magic exists in the realm of possibility ever-expanding & contracting but never disappearing black cats always seem to get a bad rap in this reality but when I dream just right I see two black cats drenched in moonlight smoke on their lips steam on their skin sipping on cheap wine drinking each other in

Vaughn Upward Garcia @vaughn.ug

G Tarifa @gs_archives

G Tarifa

@gs_archives

Bellies communicating rings of energy to the second umbilicous Bodies harboring touched bodies They share rings of communication one promulgates HhHhHhAaAaAaAaAa

Sigils open Inside the mouths of others across the foundry hard shapes of skin toil breath coils of 8 wilted snapping hearts moving ordinately back to front gates coillier velvet scraped fabricforts kinda like 1

inner child rolling in my hips Cast initiate latchkey tents keep eye user mind protection ... I point bone out at the government

Unsold part-time on Earth

Paige Martell

DUPLEX after Jericho Brown

The empty security line at LAX. The masks we pull down to kiss.

The masks we all pull down to kiss. Congrats autocorrects to confess,

Congrats automatically corrects, Crying to Que Sera Sera in the Lyft, Sly & the Family Stone hit, different— Text: last week I got pregnant. I was pregnant. These past few weeks. Applying lipstick without a mirror,

The audacity of an antique mirror— Quarantine sex, petrichor, red lips.

Quarantine mirror selfie sext, The empty security line at LAX.

Karla Lamb @vinylowl

ANOTHER DUPLEX after Jericho Brown

Another sockless winter.

I want to coffee, I want to gluten.

I want to coffee, I want to gluten. Yes, I finally like my tits.

My tits are finally avocado size. I run a knife down my side, every time.

Every time a knife, an avocado— The only thing we carry, to term.

The only thing. We carry. Cut through the fleshy part, A.S.M.R.

Cut through the fleshy part, A.S.M.R. Avocado—a sad & irrational heart.

My sad, irrational heart. Another sockless winter.

THE SKIRT

we walk over it like a crack on the sidewalk/ children skip over it like a jump rope/ the other señoras in their sarapes/ step over it with a prayer stuck/ behind their teeth/ the tourists almost trip on it/ pretend to catch themselves before fumbling/ phone cameras in hand/ the leg sticks out from under the long black skirt/ the leg is black & stiff & consumed in gangrene/ the gangrene is stiff & still & black & sticking out from under/ the señora who sits on the concrete/ leans on the gate/ gangrene glowing in the daytime like a black light/ & the blackness of the gangrene crawls up the leg of the señora sitting/ back leaning against/ the cathedral gate/ on the concrete/ of the city/ & the guards pat us down before we enter/ as we enter the gate/ we enter lightly/ into the metropolitan cathedral of nuestra señora de guadalupe/ as we enter/ the guards pat us down/ check our bags for bombs/ before we enter/ as we enter/ the guards check us for mass destruction/ we enter the cathedral church of the catholic archdiocese/ the guards pat us down our side bodies/ say no/ photography the guards/ are worried about the phone cameras in our hands/ worried that if we take a picture the cathedral will split down the middle like a plague/ the guards are worried the cathedral will sink/ along with the rest of the sinking city/ the cathedral has been sinking/ into the lakebed from the day it was built/ the cathedral/ built on top of the aztec sacred precinct/ near the templo mayor on the northern side of the plaza de la constitución/ downtown mexico city/ a city that’s been sinking since the day it was born/ the sacred precinct consumed by the cathedral/ gangrene & the señora that begs/ at the entrance of the metropolitan cathedral sinking/ with my city/ begging you for a few teeth/ the localized death of her leg begging/ city that tries to restore as it sinks/ the legs of the city gangrened since birth/ the birth of a city stepped on/ skipped over/ children skipping rope/ songs of dead señoras in sarapes with prayers stuck/ behind their black teeth/ gangrene that sinks/ gangrene that begs/ & prays the long black prayer of the city/ my blackened city that was built/ on lakebed bodies/ brown indigenous bodies/ long black skirt/ of the city exposing the gangrene consumed leg/ cathedral body that sinks its prayers into my body/ my body that sinks prayers

Karla Lamb

p o p

Caitie Kohl

Estephanie Seis

@la_babe_ruthless

STANDING THERE HOLDING HANDS

Central Los Angeles, superhighways swell in mirage inducing heat. Little Armenia wholly swallowing us in. What’s the best way to get into Hollywood? The Bette Davis mural on Fountain Ave. asks. Face chipped graffiti blush. Turkish bakery where we get croissants, garnish of cinnamon & car exhaust, chalk in the throat. Street kissed with discarded styrofoam cups, little crescent moons bitten off. Romanticizing litter, evidence of now absent bodies, and me connecting clues, geo-caching their secret lives. Bodegas lining Sunset Boulevard, abuelitas with facemasks tucked under double chins, rows of headless mannequins side-hustling counterfeit Adidas track suits. And yes, the greening of skinny palm trees too. Non-native like the rest of us. Tears stuck in their aqueducts. DIY sign taped to a fence tempts us to order fresh tamales, my tradition we’ve adopted, but opted out of. There’ll be enough food at the party we both think but don’t say, walking home carrying the two candyless ox-shaped piñatas we bought from la señora on the corner. In the sun. On the overpass. On the last day of 2020. Subsumed by the breadth of transit, everyone migrating somewhere, homeland heartache palpable. The loose translation of this scene cementing itself in my psyche. Remember this, I whisper to concrete riffing traffic, my blind spot opening opening opening

Karla Lamb

@vinylowl

I Wanna Stay Here

Caitie Kohl

Erick Romero

@ornerycrab @streetsidecarcass

The Secrets of Shadows

The night time is when I whisper my secrets, Cry in the dark When most of my important phone calls occur, (it’s the time when the person on the other end of the line tells me bedtime stories) It’s the time I laugh the loudest and dance without caring how people perceive me

The night is when I unravel. I can breathe easy.

In the shadows of the night, I perfect my paintings The night is made for memorable outings (Going through the drive-thru on foot with friends and my power wheelchair, laughing drunk at the only pizza parlor that’s open, pulling up on that guy you hardly know for a New Year’s kiss) It’s the time for el desmadre (madness) on the streets when all the gay clubs close in West Hollywood

In the shadows is where I play catch-up In the shadows of the night, I blast Yaeji from the car with all the windows rolled down It’s nights strolls to El Taurino for late night tacos Followed by deep conversations and opening a bottle of wine from a friends’ moms wine collection The night is made for forgetting your only lighter in the car and getting pulled through the beach sand in your old quilt as you laugh so hard your inner child is beaming with excitement It’s your first date with the “social worker” that does yayo on the weekends. They take you to a fancy spot while forgetting to check tonight’s events. You end up crashing a Bar Mitzvah. In the shadows of the night anything is possible In the shadows of the night is where I escape.

Pausing The Night

As the weather turns colder, the nights get longer. The night burrows from the day and I thank him for that.

Some days I drive home, some days I walk and take a different route.

As it gets colder, I buy more honey than time.

There’s sorrow in my pockets but I rather keep my hands there, then leave them outside When I see the lights of the vending machine.

I know I’ve walked too far.

Maribel Prudencio @

DEAD VENUES WITH RAUL GARCIA

Interview by Iván Salinas

Photo by David Fearn AKA Shitshow Dave and webby sweater by Kelsey Rubenstein

The first time I ever met Raul Garcia was in the North Hollywood Recreation Center park where we threw a pop-up zine event with our friend Rebecca Gross from Off Menu Press. She invited a few musician friends to bring their guitars and jam out at the pop-up. Raul showed up with his acoustic guitar ready to go as soon as we had set up our tables. It was the end of July, a warm afternoon with a gentle breeze from the nearby traffic so there was no hurry for the music to start. About an hour later, when we had a little crowd going, we sat on the grass to enjoy the sets. We were lucky enough to hear a couple of new songs Raul had been working on, they would go on to be included in his third studio EP, “Thank You,” which he released in the winter of 2021.

As a singer and songwriter from Mexico City based in the San Fernando Valley, Raul’s musical style in this EP meshes his influences of 70s folk and psychedelic rock with groovy tropical rhythms and uplifting melodies. The careful arrangement of percussion, keyboards, and guitars contrasts his earlier work, traditionally composed of the standard rock sound of guitars and drums. Though each song feels more at peace, there are more layers of instruments in them, creating an upbeat easy listen that allows the keyboards and cosmic sound effects to harmonize during the bridge and intro/outro sections. As a result, they radiate a more somber tone, complemented by the beautiful artwork of L.A. artist Stephanie Godoy.

To add to the mystical sound explored in this EP, Raul’s own songwriting is a main factor. Perhaps the most consistent element in his music, Raul’s lyrics are personal and brief. They are just vague enough to place the listener in a story that you feel you’re a part of, especially for his narrative in the second person. In “Bite,” the first track off the EP, he sings about controlling the urge to say more when it’s time to move on, “Gonna bite my tongue and mind my own life,” someone who’s come to terms with the difficulties in two sided communication with ongoing relationships in his life as he says, “you can find your way.” Whereas in “Would You Believe” the speaker reminisces on the past, “Strange as it seems I have no regret/Gonna think about it until I’m dead.” The fourth song, “Oven,” stands out as the most exhilarating tune, spicing it with a trumpet and a rough vocal lead. Raul’s first self-titled debut EP was released in 2017 with a grunge approach, recorded right after he graduated from college. On the other hand, his second EP, “Grow” (2020) delivers a more mature set of songs that play off the influence of the 90s alternative scene of Rock en Español.

To talk more about the making of his latest EP we invited Raul to chat with us for our Dead Venues Series and share more about his recording process, and as an avid concert-goer we asked him about some of his wildest experiences.

Iván: Can you tell me what that process has been like for you to record your new EP over a year and a half?

Raul: It’s been a really fun involved process. The only way I’ve been able to do it has been with the help of a lot of dear friends. Some of these are songs that I’ve been playing for a long time. One of the songs I played tonight, “Whisper” was written with my friend Josh Abramovitz back in 2016 when I was still at CSUN. There were a bunch of song ideas that I had been bouncing around for a while. I’ve even played different versions of the songs, and then the pandemic happened and I was looking to do some recordings. Because of the pandemic, my friend Tyler McCarthy–who’s amazing at anything music-related–happened to be in town. We got together and recorded these songs. I had written the songs as you heard me play them solo, but they were not as well arranged with other instruments. Tyler’s a very inspirational person to me who just has that ear for musical arrangement and anything to do with making a record. So he helped me develop the songs into the form that you just heard, and I thank him dearly for it. It was a really lovely process that I hope to do many more times.

Iván: What was the timeline from recording demos to the finished product?

Raul: I started going to Tyler’s studio between July and August of 2020, and because I was working full-time in Burbank I was still commuting at the time. We would meet up two or three times per month up until February of 2021 when the mixing was done. After that, it was off to the races with everything else (like the artwork). The songs are also pressed onto vinyl so that was a whole interesting process… to figure out how to get the art photographed and edited. My girlfriend Brenda Lopez helped me with the layout for the files that needed to be sent to the pressing plant and my friend Josh Jalil helped me with some Photoshop editing of the photographs (by Rafael Cardenas) of the paintings that Stephanie Godoy made for the EP art.

Iván: Do you collect vinyls? Was it something you grew up with?

Raul: I collect too many records. Yeah, it’s a gift and a curse. Way too much money spent on records during the pandemic. Shoutout to Record Safari and Amoeba Hollywood! I didn’t [grow up collecting vinyls]. I didn’t even listen to The Beatles till I was in college. I had a friend in high school that gifted me an album on vinyl and that was way before I even had a record player. It wasn’t until I was in college that I’d go to shows and see bands sell their albums on vinyl. I would go to the record store next to The Echo, which was called Origami Vinyl. That store then became Permanent Records, which is now something else. I also had a friend who I was in a band with that had a ton of vinyl and he lent me a ton of records to listen to. Besides that, I would go to my cousin Elly because he had a lot of music like Iron Maiden and Metallica on his iTunes. I had an iPod nano and I would unlock the ability to steal–I mean borrow– the music and listen to it. So I just had an iPod full of music I thought was cool and I think my record collecting stemmed from there later on. The seed had been planted and when I was finally able to buy the records, it was game over.

Iván: Was most of your upbringing in the San Fernando Valley? I understand you were born in Mexico City, which is where I’m from, too!

Raul: The very early part of my life was in Mexico City so between 1993–when I was born–through 1999 I was in Mexico City. We would occasionally visit some family here in Tarzana, California because they lived here before officially moving here, but to be honest the valley’s been home since I’ve been consciously aware of it.

Iván: Cool! You had most of your childhood years in D.F. during the 90s. Do you think that having been surrounded by two different environments impacted your music?

Raul: Yeah, definitely. I think for art ideas, my grandma is always bringing cultural things from Mexico. Like, there’s this really nice light blue color and she’s always like “you should use this for your art!” I think it’s Aztec blue (actually, Mayan blue). It’s a kind of light green blue. Yea and you know also being a valley metal head I was into Metallica, Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath… I was the little Led Zeppelin shirt kid.

Iván: You started listening to the classic stuff, more on the heavy side of things. Your first EP which actually has that blue color you were talking about, right? It has tigers on it?

Raul: Yeah! That’s my Mexican animal blanket that I photographed with my phone and then photocopied to make a collage

Iván: Dude, la cobija!

Raul: Exactly! I had a cobija that my mom was about to throw out and I was like, “No! What do you mean you’re gonna throw it out?!” I was looking for it to make the collage and my mom had already thrown it in the trash. So I took it out, washed it, took the pictures, made the collage and that was the artwork for the first EP I ever made right after college.

Raul Garcia and The Loved Ones from the “Thank You” EP release show at The Smell on December 4th, 2021. From left to right: Cesar Hernandez, Ryo Nakamura, Josh Solomon, Raul Garcia, Matthew Perez, and Sam Ramirez. Photo by Cesia Eve

Iván: That EP has more energy into it and more of that ‘teen spirit’ than your sophomore record and even the songs from your newest EP. I like the grunge sound of it and even the mic you used in it, what mic were you working with? Cause it sounds vintage, you know.

Raul: I think it was just a couple SM-57 and SM-58s. We recorded it at my friend Josh Abramovitz’s house, and I would go over to his house and he had a little FocusRite interface. We just had two inputs and everything was approached in a ‘how can we do this?’ type of way. He has more knowledge on how to work with music software than I do so he helped me arrange a lot of stuff in there, but it was a lot of trial and error and like ‘oh this pedal makes this backwards noise that sounds cool.’ It was more of a hodgepodge of throwing things against the wall and seeing what stuck, which is a totally different approach from what we did this time around in the studio with my friend Tyler. With Tyler it was more about keeping the arrangements simple and finding specific things that would sound good in the arrangement of the recorded song.

I do also want to shout out the homies. It wasn’t just me and Tyler working in the studio. It was also my friend Josh Solomon who’s an amazing bass player, my buddy Alonso Figueroa who’s an amazing percussionist and drummer, my friend Paul Slater who shreds on the drums, and my friend Austin Drake laid down a little trumpet solo in one of the songs… Also, Stephanie Godoy, thank you for being so down with making this artwork, it’s amazing! I’ll never forget it, I have these pieces of art hanging in my house that I’ll always treasure.

Iván: I’ve noticed that you use a lot of acoustic guitar in your songs, as opposed to that first EP–which I guess is the 90s in you–I don’t want to just use the word “clean,” but for lack of a better word, I notice that acoustic style in your music.

Raul: Yeah, when I was in college I had to take classical guitar lessons to go along with the major that I was in, which was the music industry program at CSUN. I got this 40 dollar nylon-string guitar and because of school, I got super busy so I had to stop playing with my old band which was really sad for me. It did end up becoming a perfect moment though where any free time I had I would write songs with that guitar. To this day it’s the guitar I use the most so I feel like that particular guitar always finds itself in, or if it’s not that guitar, the spirit of it translates over, because you bond over a musical instrument, you know. It’s like Prince said in an interview, “I always try to sneak my guitar in the mix.” I’m paraphrasing, but he had that special bond with the instrument that I admire. I think me and that nylon are like two sides of the same coin.

Iván: I understand you’re also surrounded by music all the time. You work in the music industry, does that influence you in any way in the process of making your own music? Has it become a way for you to collaborate with other musicians?

Raul: I would say work is pretty separate from it. I think I meet more people by just having an anchor date for a performance and finding people to play from there. Like going to shows and just asking a friend if they know someone who’s a drummer or keyboard player, that’s usually how I meet someone. I went to this show at a cafe in Long Beach and I met my buddy Matthew Perez who’s an amazing Jazz guitar player and musician in general. It was just a chance encounter. You end up sitting in front of this person and you say hello, you have a chat and then you hang out a couple of times and become friends. I have a lot of encounters like that that make me believe in the power of saying hello and it sparks a conversation and a friendship.

Iván: What are some of your fondest memories, or maybe not so fond, from the music program at CSUN?

“Thank You” EP art by Stephanie Godoy

Raul: I think it was a defining four years for me. I actually met Josh Solomon and my friend Christian Doboe at this event that their class from the music program was hosting at the Orange Grove Bistro at CSUN after I had graduated. On a side note, I also used to volunteer at Pehrspace and The Smell which is where me and Josh Solomon would see each other around before we officially met. We knew that we’d seen each other somewhere! Turns out me and Josh also had all the same music teachers at Pierce College. Me and Christian ended up working a bunch of Golden Voice festivals together along with Josh Abramovitz and Paul Slater and that was a bit after I graduated… but it’s crazy that this one day that I just decided to go post flyers around CSUN for a show I was playing, I just happen to pop into this event at the Orange Grove Bistro and I meet these two very meaningful people in my life.

Iván: That’s awesome. Some of the most supportive people you’ll ever meet in your life show up very unexpectedly. I’m glad to hear you’ve had many of those encounters. Having played live at a number of different venues, what is a crazy experience you’ve had at a show?

Raul: There was this show at a place called Lot 1, rest in peace.

Iván: RIP!

Raul: It’s now a Monty’s burger place. Fuck Monty’s.

Iván: Fuck Monty’s!

Raul: I played there with an old band and there was this other band playing from Oakland, they were on a tour. We had just played our set and it was cool, but this Oakland band packed this tiny space that Lot 1 had and I remember being there in the crowd watching this band with my friend Stanley Jeong, who was the drummer of the band I was playing in at the time… all of a sudden we see a dude in this Mickey Mouse costume just walking outside. There was this big window where you could see out onto Sunset Boulevard from inside the venue and we just saw a random motherfucker in a legit Disneyland Mickey Mouse costume. One moment we see him outside and didn’t think about it that long, but then me and Stanley are like, “let’s crowd surf”, so we get picked up and are crowd surfing, and all of a sudden we see that Mickey Mouse

crowd in that tiny tiny room. I’ll never forget that show.

Iván: Damn, goals. I want to say I’ve crowd surfed with Mickey Mouse. Did you ever find out who was behind the costume?

Raul: No, we never did. But shoutout to the dude in the Mickey Mouse costume. He was probably legit Mickey who came to crowdsurf from another dimension.

Iván: What have been some of your favorite live performances?

guy right next to us on top of the

Raul Garcia and The Loved Ones from the “Thank You” EP release show at The Smell on December 4th, 2021. Photo by Cesia Eve

Raul: If anyone’s ever been to Grand Performances in DTLA, they do these free summer shows and Kamasi Washington did a show there in 2015. I want to say I saw everyone from my musical past and present there. Everyone I met in different eras of my life who were also music fans and/or musicians were there. It was this beautiful experience where Kamasi and his group united a whole city of musicians all in one place. To this day I haven’t seen anything like that. Eduardo Arenas also has a really great live show and Thee Oh Sees have one of the best shows I’ve seen around the city.

Iván: Thee Oh Sees live is awesome. I got in the pit for their show when they played at Tropicalia in 2019, it was awesome. Do you get in the pit?

Raul: Not really, but I was working at Tropicalia Fest in 2019 and I snuck backstage during lunch break because I had this production pass… not sure if I was allowed back there, and I saw them kill it from backstage. Once my lunch was over and I was back at the customer service booth, I was your boy, the customer service/lost and found guy…if you needed something, I was there.

Iván: What were some of the items you received at the lost and found?

Raul: In the festivals I’ve worked at, I’m surprised at the amount of people that lose their brand new iPhones. It’s an insane amount of phones, but I don’t think there has ever been anything crazy that I’ve personally gotten… just a lot of lost phones, so take care of your shit people, that shit is expensive!

Iván: Hang on to your phone, people! Madi has a question: what do you order at a taco truck?

Raul: Al pastor. Three al pastor tacos. There’s this one place in Hawthorne (@tacoslosmixes). Brenda’s going to chuckle at this: her parents get these tacos at Hawthorne near The Forum and it’s the most amazing Al Pastor I’ve had in the city.

Iván: Shoutout to Hawthorne! And the Al Pastor Taco Truck.

Raul: This place destroys Leo’s. What about you guys, what do you usually get?

Iván: Our go-to is usually a quesadilla de asada for Madi and I get a quesadilla de chorizo con tres tacos al pastor or suadero if I’m in the mood. We’ll take you to our spot next time we hang out! Thank you for this wonderful interview, Raul.

You can buy the“Thank you” EP via Bandcamp or listen on all streaming platforms. www.raulgarciamusic.com IG: @raulgarciayo

Jasson Bautista @jassonb

Late Night Tacos

Jasson Bautista @jassonb

VANISHING IN THE CAMERA OBSCURA at 3 AM

Stop-motion skeleton choreography the death dance somewhere over the colorblind rainbow running its course hidden by pale sky fortress shimmer, floating palace place of origin: Roy Roger’s horse Trigger and Lone Ranger’s Silver both Cosmic Renegades born in tinker tanks belonging to interstellar Geppetto Poor here, poor there... in the space between determined to careen the tangible fairgrounds the giant’s elbow room in God’s country to gallop upon the happy planetary trails where voices speak in Honky Tonk about A.I. stallions, mares, future-talk a good steed is needed to ride through the charcoal forest and navigate noche obscure del alma unsuspecting, it creeps up daylight disappearance twilight tumbles, night falls devoid upswing, no parental eyes streetlights redirect shadow gates boulevard is broken, not the dreams spoken in night breath trances spells of invisibility lining tinted window of an outdoor world arcane thicket exterior surrounding the tiny busted Zenith T.V. antenna surgically removed power cord scissored, umbilical cord snip snip dialed in, tuned out Mister Ed advises none the neighs and nostril whoa-Nelly yahs snort retorts to soul grabs grumbling grips refusing to yield to the dark night peak creaking on the edge of 3 the long goodbye strikes again bleak a.m. 3:01 deed done.

Daniel Yaryan @danielyaryan

Night Clock Afterthoughts

greeting japan, the sun ran from the city of red rivers she looked back sending that pink gaze that she always delivers fms and ams and bluetooths and 5gs making me feel bad for the bees pretty lights, pretty thighs, heavy highs, heavy cries, city of fiends

need more than chips and caffeine for lunch cuz these street taco stands are making demands on my cruise home through LA’s badlands i feel love for this place i call home but i don’t adore the metro’s lore missions galore through Cali’s coastal shore

sore feet from today’s expedition got me sketched by the city’s paradoxes surviving for those spiritual equinoxes while camping by the stacked iceboxes this life during these times feel like speeding a light it ain’t easy, everybody knows when the red glows to hold on tight

Javier Dezma

DRIVE THRU

Castro Jr. @castrojrsketch

To me the night is a time to imagine other worlds.

Star Swimmer

Brenda Lopez @brendartsun

Observation I: Note to self

There is a small beast

That sleeps between The walls of my chest; It spends long periods of time Hibernating. When it awakens, It is so starved that It acts in unruly ways. I –am its keeper, I must tame it. But first, I must learn What it feeds on, What it so deeply craves.

Angelica Sanchez @mirroreffects

Estephanie Seis @la_babe_ruthless

Night, the Abode of Secrets

The touches of sunlight are reminders Of nocturnal resurrection, the calm, Claimed stars envisioned As order. Soon, burned away will be the twilight. The sleepless reddish-rust of the heavens Immersed in

Black: night, the abode of secrets, with insights

Against the established systems of power.

After deadened day with burdensome workload–released, Night liberates the mind from authorities, the hidden haven With conditioned inhibitions overcome Then forgotten for a transcendence that claims The stars as its own constellations Of insights connected by Tibetan “crazy wisdom.”

Breaking down to break free

Moving to the scarcely heard At the decision to walk into darkness, The illusory omniscience dispels The broken drum of a heart beat, rusted Twilight blood rushes delusions–unseen But felt in flesh, the dream realized –Awakened

With the moon for a skull, nocturnal tides turn Metamorphic phrases Supernatural to pen and pencil. They unwrite the oppression, the volatile.

Nelson Gary

By Alejandro Duran @chicanomothman

Art by Madi Parsley @thiscatcollages

Alargo la vista y veo muchos más puentes de los que recuerdo haber estado allií antes. Se multiplican en la distancia como saltamontes y siento ganas de caminar por el lecho del rio hasta contarlos todos. Pero para hacer eso tendria que atravesar el enjambre de luz y humo, carne y concreto, que envuelve esta ciudad cada noche. Una tarea que a cualquier hombre cuerdo le resultaría imposible. Ademas, hay asuntos mas urgentes que atender, cuestiones que solo se aplazan con la muerte. No he venido a profanar este templo arcaico de muros agrietados y pisos mohosos con mi locura; simplemente soy (como todos aquellos quienes anuncian su llegada con el bullicio de los claxons y de estaciones de radio piratas) un humilde peregrino cuyo calvario termina en esta metrópolis efímera, donde el amor nunca alcanza materializarse por completo. Es mucho más fácil incorporarse a la autopista 5 dirección sur que desfilar como mendigo por una calle empedrada.

Carecemos de catedrales góticas, de bronces de hombre a caballo, de monumentos a una patria ficticia, y de todas esas cosas que la alta cultura exige de un poblado. Nos satisfacemos con nuestros puentes y con los ritos dionisíacos que allí se celebran, pues el simulacro de la antigüedad se torna real al fin de mil jornadas, como si en verdad este lugar fuera una ciudadela amurallada del medievo.

Igual aquí una misa dura menos que un álbum de rock, y como no es el pan el que se multiplica en estas calles inmundas sino las ansias, el sermón es siempre el mismo. Busco sus palabras en las madrigueras que construimos entre los roedores pero casi sin excepción consiguen escabullirse antes de que me acerque a ellas. Ahora, en esta función clandestina, si que se escuchan, aunque se distorsionan en el nido de cables y extensiones de luz que yace a nuestros pies junto a charcos que parecen ser todo menos agua. Es por esto que hemos venido.

Las ansias de un pueblo entero (si así puede llamársele) no caben dentro de un vocalista demacrado, ni en la arena en miniatura que los roadies duran diez minutos en alzar. Como regla se desbordan. Se esparcen por el aire hasta llenarnos los pulmones. Intoxicados por esta pesadez, hacemos a un lado una sección del alambrado que nos separa del río y comenzamos nuestro descenso. La pendiente por la que bajamos se asemeja a un antiguo rompeolas, cuyas ruinas enlamadas ocultan el sepulcro de sus arquitectos. Pasamos sobre estas tumbas subterráneas hasta llegar a la base de la construcción, donde nos espera un mar de sombras. Sus intenciones nos son un misterio, tan ininteligibles como sus rostros. Entre las siluetas monstruosas que cruzan frente a mi, creo ver algo que respira,o que desea más que nada tener aliento propio. Cuatro lucecitas resaltan en la oscuridad,

ardientes y rojizas, y es sólo al acercarme que alcanzó distinguir los cigarrillos de los que emanan. Los sujetan unos dedos largos y delgados, cuya delicadeza sólo sirve para acentuar su olor a tabaco barato. Se han sentado junto a nosotros unas muchachas (supongo que conocidas de mi amigo, pues me saludan y una de ellas ofrece su cigarrillo).

Durante el transcurso de la noche me morderé la lengua, temeroso de ofender a alguno de mis acompañantes. No diré que aquellas muchachas son las más bellas que he visto en mi vida, ni preguntaré de ellas, de sus nombres o sus rumbos. En vez, les preguntaré respecto al grupo que llega a ocupar su lugar cuando las muchachas se marchan a buscar alguien quien les venda cerveza. De ellos terminó enamorándome también.

Un muchachito aún más delgado que yo, con el pelo teñido rubio, y quien parece ser el líder, o la mascota, o quizás el hijo caprichoso, conversa en español con una muchacha rubia que bien pudiera ser su hermana, o quizás su novia, y con un gordito de pelo largo y desarrapado quien viste una chaqueta de militar.

–Hay mucha raza aquí, ¿no?– le comento a mi amigo algún tiempo después–.

La última banda ha abandonado el escenario. Puede ser que consistiendo aquella cosa de algunas bancas y un par de bocinas desatendidas la palabra escenario sea excesiva.

–Si –responde él con frialdad en su voz–. ¿Acaso se ha ofendido por el comentario?

–Si– repite, –la mayoría son raza. Latinos. Estoy ebrio de modo de que su respuesta no me sacude. En vez, yo le insisto –por donde viven tus amigos, ¿de donde son?

–Se están quedando con Grimace, el gordito que ves por allá con la camisa empapada, es un amigo mutuo.

<<¿Qué le habrá pasado al joven con pinta de morrissey pero con pelo teñido de rubio. ¿cual tragicomedia Griega se está desenvolviendo en su vida para que se vea forzado a alojarse con su amigo? Me imagino que lo han echado de su casa, a él y a su hermana. O tal vez a él y a su novio aunque bien podría ser otra cosa, menos grave, o más grave aún. Lo podría estar buscando algún trabajador de servicios humanos o un policía por absentismo escolar; es muy joven después de todo, o al menos parece serlo>>.

Por dentro me estremezco y jalo de mi cigarro con abandono. Cambio la conversación (Según yo, la cambio orgánicamente) y me dirijo hacia un tema más agradable, más lleno de cursilerías.

–un show debajo de un puente, en un foso enorme que apodamos Río de Los Ángeles, y todos han llegado.

Ante las miradas duras que se dirigen a mí, les clarifico, –los güeritos de por allá, sentados justo debajo del techo del puente son, diría yo, de West Hills o de Brentwood.

–Arrancados de un catálogo de la American Apparel –agrega una voz incorpórea–. Cuando aún se oía el zumbido de la maquiladora por las noches.

–Así es –le respondo–. Y los que están junto a ellos, los que parecen arrancados de algún café en el que más que café se trafica en gafas oscuras, mota, y pantalones rotos, son el contingente de Silverlake. Seguramente esos güeyes de allá son de East Los, como también hay algunos quienes emprendieron la travesía desde South Central, y desde aún más lejos. Y míranos a nosotros, yo soy de Highland Park, ustedes de Glendale, este colado de acá dice que viene del valle. Ha

venido todo Los Ángeles. Cada barrio ha enviado a sus respectivas delegaciones a la cumbre de los Punks Unidos a que adoren en el altar de la guitarra eléctrica y la batería.

Con esto último se me acaba el aire y me quedo callado por algún tiempo. Mi amigo me contesta con más entusiasmo de lo que esperaba, simpatiza con el sentimiento de lo que he dicho, si no con la torpeza con la que lo he expresado.

–Si. Se unen tras una bandera esta tribu sin lealtades.

No me ha entendido, al menos no del todo, pero es inútil seguir esta corriente. El humo endurece las carnes y me eriza la piel. Uno de nuestros acompañantes, un tipo negro y alto, nos sugiere que nos retiremos debajo del puente. Un helicóptero del LAPD nos ciega con sus luces. Sus demandas son transmitidas por megáfonos y por bocinas especializadas que montan por debajo del fuselaje. Son las mismas de siempre y además vacías.

–¡Dispérsense! El alguacil y el comisario del departamento de bomberos han prohibido esta reunión. ¡Dispérsense! Esta será la única advertencia.

–Leen el mismo discurso cada vez y nunca se atreven a hacer nada –dice mi amigo–.

Su voz está llena de una bravura que no se esperaría de un muchacho de apenas cien libras. Yo por naturaleza soy un cobarde pero aun así me sorprendo al ver como muchos comienzan a escalar los empinados muros del canal para regresar a sus coches y marcharse. El contingente de West Hills, a la sorpresa de nadie, se encuentra entre los primeros en emprender la retirada.

Me parece un acto de poca educación, descortés y además indiferente ante el sentido de solidaridad que todos profesan de forma implícita hace unos cuantos momentos pero del que ahora se desligan.

–¡Les dio frío o qué cabrones! –La voz viene de uno de los bateristas–. Ninguno de los grupos muestra cualquier intención de abandonar un show que no está programado para terminar hasta pasada la medianoche.

He aquí su verdadera nobleza, pues demuestran ser de aquella vieja estirpe a la que no le importa más que la música y el desmadre. ¿Cómo traicionar a seres tan puros? La camaradería nos lo impide y las ansias de joven exigen que no demos por concluida esta velada. Además, ¿qué tiene un Mexicano si no sus historias? ¿En que recae un pobre infeliz como yo si no en aquellas anécdotas que tras unas cuantas cervezas se resbalan con tanta facilidad de la lengua?

De acuerdo con nuestra decisión, a la que hemos llegado más con gestos y miradas que con cualquier palabra, nos recostamos todos contra un muro mientras les mentamos su madre a los policías. Yo de la manera reservada que se esperaría de alguien que ha fumado más de la cuenta, y mis amigos con un entusiasmo febril que resulta contagioso de pronto llena el aire con un mar de insultos y majaderías que no he escuchado desde hacía mucho tiempo. El ambiente es sublime en lo absoluto.

Sobre nuestros gritos resalta el chillido de una guitarra eléctrica y luego un bombardeo ensordecedor de notas. Un tragafuegos emerge desde la multitud tomando buches de mezcal y escupiendo llamas vivas en la dirección del helicóptero. Conforme va creciendo el bullicio la hora de partida se posterga más y más ennuestras mentes, y siento que por fin entiendo las obras de Wagner, el porque los dioses optan por la inmolación en vez de aceptar la realidad de un pueblo ateo.

Check out the English translation on our website drifterzine.com!

CONTRIBUTORS

Estephanie Seis: Estephanie is a renaissance woman. She is a disabled artist, advocate, and model.

IG: @la_babe_ruthless

Valerie, Darling: Valerie is the author of three volumes of poetry: “A Fever I Can’t Sweat Out,” “Nice Kids Dancing to Good Soul Music,” and the upcoming “The Honey-Eaters.” She has been writing poetry since she was in elementary school.

IG: @softcorekitsch

Angelica Sanchez: Lesbian Latinx artist from the SFV who explores themes of isolation, longing and renewal through poetry and images.

IG: @mirroreffects

Brenda Lopez: Brenda is a chicana artist from Inglewood, CA. Besides making art (most nature inspired) she enjoys dancing and discussing ways of dismantling capitalism and how to end the US blockade on Cuba. IG: @brendartsun

Caitie Kohl: Catie’s hypersexualized mixed media paintings are exciting and absurd. The human female form is amalgamated with non-human matriarchal creatures - creating surreal and unsettling compositions. Kohl’s work is a protest on societal gender norms and standards. The hybrid female figures depicted in her paintings allude to a sense of protection and power, as they claim their space as matriarchal beings. Kohl’s work explores and plays with the clout of the male libido in our society.

IG: @caitiekohlart_

Castro Jr. : My name is Castro Jr. and I am a cartoonist from Moreno Valley, CA. I write and draw comics, usually fiction, I also do more personal or autobiographical stories.

IG: @castrojrsketch

Daniel Yaryan: Daniel is the poet-author of the illustrated volume Sorcerers: Through Dimensions Infinite, a collaboration with fantasy artist Fitz. “It is the first full volume of cosmic pulp poetry,” says Los Angeles poet/writer Nelson Gary, who also calls the book “ingenious.” Yaryan is the founder of the Mystic Boxing Commission, curator of the Kamstra Sparring Archive and an event organizer throughout California. He is editor of the upcoming Sparring With Beatnik Ghosts Omnibus. His books are available at www.sparringartists.com.

IG: @danielyaran

Alexia Pilar: Encinoman is the DJ alias for SFV based artist Alexia Pilar. Influenced by futuristic Ítalo disco, noisy industrial and dub bass, Encinoman is not afraid to go beyond the limit and experiment with sound. Born and raised in LA, Encinoman got her start with sound collaging. During a study abroad program, Encinoman felt inspired by UK rave culture and began mixing acid house and electro. Fast forward to the present, Encinoman performs live with both digital and vinyl mediums. Follow her on Instagram at (underline)@encinoman818 to stay up to date on events and Mixcloud at (underline)mixcloud.com/encinoman to hear her latest mix..

IG: @encinoman818

Erick Romero: Perceived as an Artist by his peers, graphic designer, screen printer and sculptor based in the San Fernando Valley. Clobbers together what he can and prays to whatever God will listen in hopes his pieces won’t burst into flames.

IG: @ornerycrab @streetsidecarcass

Evan Lopez-Anaya: Evan is an artist from the sfv. @portra818

G Tarifa: I am a brown, non-binary film photographer who documents their experience. My work focuses on honoring humans, nature, and community. All of these images were captured at night with no flash.

IG: @gs_archives

Jasson Bautista: My name is Jasson Bautista. I am a photographer and native of the San Fernando Valley. I document the valley’s culture and lifestyle.

IG: @jassonb

Javier Dezma: Javier is a Chicano LA-SFV artist working on photography, digital art, poetry, and other mediums. Enjoys farming and cruising through the city.

IG: @jvr_35mm

Jennifer Baptiste: Jennifer Baptiste is a school librarian by day and writer by night. She loves creating lyrical pieces that resonate with the heart and mind to promote healing and curiosity. Jennifer had a unique upbringing of summers spent with her Catholic Haitian immigrant father in Utah and school days with her American Southern Baptist mother in Texas. The two opposite worlds exposed her to a world of diversity and a storyteller was born. With a Masters degree in Library Science from Sam Houston State University, and a Bachelor’s degree in Sociology from the University of Houston, Jennifer continues to take writing workshops and also publishes some of her poetry in various ‘almanacs.’ She loves patio planting, café writing, hiking, cooking, cycling, audiobooks, creating video content, and herbal tea. Her presence on social media can be found as @WheresMsB on twitter, instagram and youtube.

Karla Lamb: Karla Lamb is a multidisciplinary Chicana poet, with work in A Women’s Thing Magazine, The Shallow Ends, Yes Poetry, Word Riot, Coal Hill Review, Fine Print Press, & translated in Revista La Peste among others. Her work has been nominated for Best of the Net Anthology. In 2020, she co-founded the Charla Cultural podcast with author Adriana E. Ramírez. Charla Cultural focuses on performances & interviews centering marginalized artists working in literature, music, & the arts. Check out karlalamb.com & @vinylowl on IG for more info.

Maribel Prudencio: My name is Maribel Prudencio. I was born in Mexico, Michoacan. Woo! At 1 years old, I came to the United States with my parents and ever since, I have lived in the San Fernando Valley. I am 23 years old and I am a Psychology Student. Ever since I was young I have been very curious about life and the human experience. Outside of school, I find a lot of joy in reading and learning about our species. I also like creating and letting my creativity take its role. In the near future I would like to be able to provide therapy and help my community to help destigmatize and popularize mental health.

IG: @lavieenrose_mari

Jeganmones: Jeganmones is an artist living in Pittsburgh, PA who creates minimal line art with her index finger on her laptop’s trackpad. She likes that her lines aren’t perfect but still seen as a piece of art that others can relate to.

IG: jegan__mones.

Nelson Gary: Nelson Gary lives in Woodland Hills, California. He is a Beyond Baroque Fellow. His poetry has been published in many journals and magazines, leading to it being anthologized in The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry. Pharmacy Psalms and Half-Life Hymns—for Nothing, his fifth volume of poetry, will be published by Mystic Boxing Commission in 2022. He has a bachelor’s degree in English from California State University, Northridge and a master’s degree in Forensic Psychology from The Chicago School of Professional Psychology.

Alejandro Duran: Alejandro is a 21 year old English major living in Northeast Los Angeles, with deep ties to the San Fernando Valley.

IG: @chicanomothman

Paige Martell: Tao+Tantric Wombxn, Sexuality Coach, Body Linguist~Ritual Artist ~Boycott Instant Gratification~

IG: @moondaeeeee

Raul Garcia: Raul is a songwriter from Mexico City based in LA. Influences include the songwriting of The Kinks, the guitar playing of Santana, the raw energy of the Minutemen, and the endless pocket of Parliament/Funkadelic. Whether he’s playing solo or with a backing band, Raul’s live set is his bedroom recording project come to life.

IG: @raulgarciayo

Rosie Angelica Alonso: Rosie Angelica Alonso is the chief editor of Acid Verse Literary Journal and the co-founder of the Taurus Apothecary mystical shop. Her first full-length poetry book, The Cockroach Manifesto, is forthcoming.

IG: @_baby_roz & @thetaurusapothecary

Vaughn Upward Garcia: Vaugh is a poet & songwriter from Queanbeyan, Australia. He writes & performs lyrical, free-flowing poetic verse that is raw, emotional confronting, strangely optimistic and laced with silver linings.

IG: @vaughn.ug

Yair Lopez: Yair is a gay Latino photographer based in Los Angeles. Currently, residing in the San Fernando Valley. You can find more of his work here: Poisonshore.com.

IG: @xxyxairxme

Madi Parsley: Madi Parsley is a San Fernando Valley-based journalist and artist. She received her BA in Journalism and English Literature at Cal State Northridge. Her reporting focuses on sociopolitical issues affecting the communities of the San Fernando Valley. Her love for feature writing, poetry, and visual art has inspired her to create her own print and online platform Drifter Zine, which is dedicated to showcasing the creative and journalistic work of San Fernando Valley locals. In her

EDITORS

free time, she creates digital collages and illustrations under the name @thiscatcollages on Instagram. She can be found walking around with Lola, her trusty Minolta SRT 102 that she sort of knows how to use.

IG: @madi_parsley

Iván Salinas: Iván is a poet based in the San Fernando Valley experimenting with words, images, and sound. He is currently a Poetry Coalition Fellow at Beyond Baroque. His literary work has been published in a variety of journals and magazines including Curious Publishing, Dryland, Backlash Lit, and La Raíz Magazine, and more. He earned a B.A. in English, Creative Writing at California State University, Northridge where he’s advocated for a quality of education that addresses racism and social justice. Iván happens to be undocumented; born in Ciudad de México, he immigrated to the valley when he was ten years old to reunite with his family. In his free time he enjoys DJing and interviewing artists and musicians from Latin America.

IG: @ivansali_

RESOURCES & ORGANIZATIONS

The Valley of Change @thevalleyofchange

The Valley of Change’s mission is to liberate Black people from systems of oppression and brutality. By honoring the intersectionality of Black, Indigenous, and People of Color, our efforts expand to uplift all marginalized and underserved communities from systemic inequality and disparate treatment. We aim to actualize our vision through community driven actions, advocating for equitable policy solutions, visible representation and widespread education.

The Social Impact Center @thesocialimpactcenter

The Social Impact Center is a nonprofit organization that serves as a hub for organizers and is a bridge between government, grassroots organizations, and people in underserved communities.

Street Watch LA @streetwatchla

Fighting to empower + protect the rights of poor/unhoused tenants across LA

Los Angeles Tenants Union @latenants

Fighting for the human right to housing

Feed The People Los Angeles @feedthepeople.losangeles

POP UP, WORKSHOPS, COLLECTIVE CARE, Queer/Trans Kitchen Collective, Food Liberation, Food as Medicine, Food as Collective, Food as Autonomy

Youth Justice LA @ youthjusticela

The YJC’s is building an abolitionist youth, family & incarcerated people’s movement to end mass incarceration, deportation & police terror. We use transformative justice and community intervention/peacebuilding, FREE LA High School, know your rights, legal defense, direct action organizing, advocacy, political education, and activist arts to bring about change.

Streets For All @streetsforall

Everyone should be able to use the street safely regardless of their mode of transportation. Fighting for climate & transportation justice.

Immigrant Defenders Law Center @immdef_lawcenter

Immigrant Defenders Law Center is a nonprofit social justice law firm that defends our immigrant communities against systemic injustice in the legal system

Homies Unidos @homiesunidos

Homies Unidos was founded in 1998 to promote peace and end violence in Central American and other immigrant communities across LA

Los Angeles Spoonie Collective @la.spoonie.collective

We’re a collective of LGBTQIA+ Disabled folks working to elevate the voices of our community, educate the world, and end ableism.