FOOD
NOT
Bombs
a UCLA non-profit organization fnbzine.blogspot.com
Vol. 1 No. I
Bumblebees in our midst pg 14
Every Thursday, we gather donations and cook food for the homeless from 8–10:00 pm. Food is distributed from 10:30–11:30 pm on Third Street and Wilshire next to the Old Navy in Santa Monica. We’d love your support and time!
EPIC THANKS GO OUT TO ALL FOOD DONATORS, Volunteers, writers and artists!!!!
Special thanks to tom trudeau, Carrie Holmes, Adam, yasmine, gabe, Fiona, Elise, Jackie, Jen (aka Fart), Oren, lesley, Patrick, and brian B.
your contributions helped many hungry people get through another day :) 1✌
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C ntents
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Welcome to the
first issue of FNB!! F
ood Not Bombs is a group of organizers who feed the homeless at Third Street Promenade. On Thursday, our day starts by picking-up food donations from various markets and eateries. Cooking takes place at volunteered locations (these are usually the helpers’ home kitchens) from 8 till 10 pm. The food we cook is vegetarian, but if meat is donated, it will not be wasted. We believe that if we use all the food that is thrown out, there would be no hunger. We distribute from 10:30 to 11:30 pm and, at the end of the night, we gather to plan for next week. As part of UCLA, you can meet other students who make a difference in the community. We are always looking for more volunteers, go to fnbzine.blogspot.com and sign up for the e-mail! In this issue we have an exciting Culture Jam interview with Steven, Contemptibly Worthless but Boundless in Creation by Cassie Pinner and Cool Stranger by Stephen Gabrielson. Brad’s submission to the Zine by Brad. The life and times of, oh god, somebody please kill me, I hate my life but am to afraid to die by Victor. Stripped (in)2 (the)vagabondage by Theda, and Bumblebees in our Midst by Natalie Hines.
Cover concept by Carrie Truong
Hector Torres FNB Volunteer fnbzine@gmail.com
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(i)nterview
Culture ja m During food distribution, I noticed a man holding a violin case. I decided to have a simple conversation to connect with a member of the community. As it turns out, Steven is a talented musician who is currently looking for gigs and plays at Third Street Prominade. Hector Torres
H: What’s your name? S: Steven. H: What did you get by coming to Food Not Bombs today? S: I got the opportunity to get free food. As well as eating at some other places in the neighborhood. All these people share similar fates. It’s not the most enjoyable experience. I get the sense of some kind of community. H: Do people bother you here or is it a positive experience? S: I’ve come here many times but never seen or heard anything negative. I think everyone appreciates what’s going on here. It’s far from many negative thoughts and actions. H: I noticed you had a violin case. Do you play music? S: Yeah a few times I play music on The Promenade. H: What kind of music? S: Different styles. This is my violin case, so yeah that’s what I do for cash. H: That’s great. How did you get started playing music? S: I’m from a musical family; it’s in my blood. H: Amazing! That requires talent, which not that many people have. S: Talent, work, everything. I got it all but I don’t have the connections. It seems that work and talent are not all you need in music. H: Oh right, talent. I don’t know that much about music. I know that it’s nice to hear. How long have you been playing music? S: All my life. 3☎
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H: What was your highest achievement in music? S: I have played with symphony orchestras in different states. I just moved here and couldn’t find a job for a few months and it seems like I picked the worst possible time, you know, to come and move out. And that’s why I’m pretty much on the street and working on the street. And thanks to these people, I can eat tonight. H: That’s great to hear. That’s why we come out here to give some hope. I think it’s a good community, helping each other. Maybe one day you’ll get into the music industry. I know a lot of musicians who play in shows but they don’t really get paid. It seems people take music for granted. S: I do understand what you’re saying. Most of the shows and performances I play are with bands and musical ensembles. They’re not really paid or not paid at all. H: Yeah, it’s terrible. It seems like it’s mostly luck that people get paid for it. Like it’s just a luck thing. Where are you originally from? S: Europe—Hungary H: I want to go to Europe some day. Never been there. That’s pretty much it, Unless you want to say something? S: These are my general impressions for people on a Thursday night. I’ve come here a couple of times. I’m probably not the one who can give you all the best description because I’ve not been coming here so long. But, so far, I found out about what they’re saying and am happy there are people who help other people. H: Is there a way someone can contact you if they know someone in the music industry or something? S: Well, I play here pretty often, if anyone’s interested. H: And that’s the Third Street Promenade? S: mmh H: Great! Maybe somebody will read this and be like let me go and help him out? I don’t know. It’s worth a shot. Thank you!
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Open mic
Cool Stranger Stephen Gabrielson, clydeowen.blogspot.com Hey there, Cool Stranger, What happened to your eyes? It looks as though you’ve seen the sun about a hundred thousand times. The ocean’s getting greener, year by year. I went around to see it, but the water wasn’t clear. I’ve been dialing your number, but you won’t pick up. My mind tells me to cut it out, but my heart says “good luck.” It’s raining in Perris, you hop on the train. That train ain’t going anywhere. You smile and call my name. Your eyes are like diamonds, and you’ve got cold black hair. You ask me what the matter was Life just ain’t fair. You’ve got one foot on the platform, the other on the train. I asked him what his name was, he laughed and said “some other day.”
Contemptibly worthless but boundless in creation Cassie Pinner, classy022@gmail.com In a drawn out paralyzed state of what you may think is non-productivity. Developing ways to transform the temporal sensation into personal information. Indicators that you are blind to pulling me toward a specific street where a specific garbage can is naseous with McDonalds today. Peering over the garbage can’s shoulder, what a spoiled greedy rat. An entire discarded kitchen in its mouth with no teeth to chew. Animal and vegetable matter rotting fast on this 88 degree afternoon. You may think I am lost, but rest assured, I will pull it all together after I find a bodega to take a shit in. Maybe you are trapped Johnny 9-5. I have no forced interaction no alarm clock. No desk to sit at and grow my gut. Birds outside your window forcing you to wake and continue into a shallow death scored by the dollar bill. Those birds are my brethren, living with me. They nudge me and whisper that the sun is waiting at my door to greet me. Again. The most perfect visitor, and so responsible.
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check out Victor’s site for more comics www.doomage.com
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Brad’s submission to the zine Brad
L
ike most people, my entire life has been a series of failures large and small. The failure I write you of, however, occurred right on the cusp of success. I and a friend (but mostly me) had coined a catch phrase for popular 2009 indie-rock band Animal Collective. I don’t want to give too much of the story away, so I will save the catchphrase for later, but, right at the time, I believe the phrase and my person was likely to catch on. It was PLAGIARIZED UNACCREDITED by popular indie rock website Pitchfork Media. People still use the phrase, I have to assume, but now when they do — with high fives abundant — they think of Pitchfork instead of me. I myself have moved onto other things, but I would like to take this opportunity to set the record straight. Our story begins sometime in 2006, with my friend and I attending an Animal Collective (AC) show in Chicago. Before the show I noticed that “the Geologist” (a band member) was milling around, likely hoping to sign autographs or make small talk about his personal life and the year 2012 with fans of the band he had never met. I knew this was my opportunity. “Sup. Are you Geologist?” “Yeah. What’s on yo mind bro?” “I was just thinking it would be a good idea during the set if you or someone else would say ‘LETS TURN UP THE AC!’” “RIPPIN.” 10★
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I think he also made a backhanded comment about not having a microphone to say it through, but that he would give the gist of the idea of Avey Tare (another band member). Anyway, although I couldn’t understand anything Avey said during the show because I had taken special K, LSD, cough syrup, and banana peels, I think he may have said it at the beginning. Later, my friend at tinymixtapes wrote the following stories referencing the now infamous event: http://www.tinymixtapes.com/Panda-Bear,3104?var_ recherche=emceegreg http://www.tinymixtapes.com/The-Story-of-How-AnimalCollective?var_recherche=emceegreg Please do note the dates. I DO NOT MENTION THIS TO BRAG OR WASTE YOUR TIME. A few days later I received a hurried phone call from my friend. He said that Pitchfork had stolen our schtick. He relayed a URL over the phone, which I quickly typed in. The ubiquitous phrase right in the middle. (This URL has now been conveniently deleted, but, if it were available, you would see that the date on it is after the dates on the article above.) Now, when I heard about this, I started trembling. To make matters worse, the night before this, somebody had written “SMALL PENIS” on a soft taco shell filled with cheese curd and then smashed it on my car windshield. The combined stress was too much. My legs gave way and I busted my head through my glass coffee-table, rendering it to shards. I posted a story to this effect on an Animal Collective discussion board, and for a few days it looked as though I might get mine yet. However, the enthusiasm soon died away, and most of those people on the discussion board are now dead. (One has to assume.)
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Stripped (in)2 (the) vagabondage Theda Techopichetwongsa
I
think my main beef with commodified exhibitionist sexuality is that it does nothing new for the hackneyed paradigm of the female body as an object or site for/of desire. It also tends to do more harm than good for a woman overall, I think. Women may associate notions of “empowerment” with feelings of being desired, but I think that while this may be partially true, such a proclamation is primarily intended to mask any unpleasant feelings of social stigmatization, guilt, etc., that a woman may feel doing such work. I know that some women are made genuinely happy and earn a lot of money creating these feelings in others, but, for the most part, people are already pre-programmed to respond strongly and viscerally to sex, and so, in my opinion, it is really not much of an accomplishment to evoke these basic feelings for pay. ESPECIALLY if you’re a good-looking woman, which you pretty much have to be in order to become a stripper or exotic dancer, etc. More importantly, the costs of such a career or job choice to a woman’s health likely outweighs the immediate (or long-term) benefits. Most of these “hot” women are young and so probably not psychologically and/or mentally/emotionally mature or stable enough to really deal with all potential consequences of such a lifestyle. Sex-industry workers, when not actually (healthily) capable of handling the ramifications and implications of their work, tend to seek [other] unhealthy means of coping with their realities, such as drug abuse, etc. While I’m not suggesting that their jobs led them to abuse drugs, I am reiterating the obvious—that overall, these are risky lifestyle choices some young females will unwittingly and/or eventually be harmed by. More so than any other average kind of employment, I’ll venture to type. And 12★
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if it is not her own or her family’s health that she is compromising, she is nonetheless on some level communicating that at this moment, the best she can do is use more her body and less her brain to survive, which often, I think, is unfortunate if she actually could do “more” with her brains, or both, even… In general, I do not think stripping or exotic dancing is worthy of condemnation but I do think that it is sad when people choose what they think is the easiest or only option they have, without first educating themselves of other possible resources, of which there are many— in a country like America, at least… I also think that, like many forms of entertainment, the money to be made at the top is disproportionate to the actual “use value” of the service provided. For instance, how could the job of literally saving a life be less monetarily rewarded (in a comparison of these economic sectors) than say, making someone laugh or become aroused? Our society needs to re-evaluate its priorities, I believe. Personally, I think humanity’s—or at least, media’s obsession with sex is indicated by its successful over-commodification, and this has had some dehumanizing, and/or demoralizing effect between the genders, reducing live, 3+ dimensional personalities to mere moving parts for pay. I think overstimulation of the senses in primitive ways, though yes, can be seen in a celebratory way, cannot help but become banal and maybe soul-numbing after tireless commercial sexploitation. For me, aside from the occasional athleticism and “artistry” displayed in some performances, strip/exotic dancing seems very aesthetically limited (usually to just one female body at a time) and limiting; ultimately unoriginal, and so uninspiring. For others, like the performers, I only hope that they can carefully, mindfully decide for themselves if this is the best way they can represent their spirits, if their needs have already been met. And if their [financial] needs haven’t already been met, I hope they consider to whether or not such work really is the best or only way for them to meet them.
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Bumblebees in Our Midst Natalie Hines
Y
ou may wonder—what’s does the life of one of the weekly attendees of Food Not Bombs look like? Bobby is one who never let an adverse circumstance get him down. Instead, when others may have said he couldn’t fly, his wings fluttered and he soared through the air like a bumblee. According to 20th Century folklore, a bumblee Bobby should not be able to fly with such little wings on an oversized insect body. Scientists used to say that aerodynamic calculations did not explain the phenomenon. However, as the folklore goes, the bees were never told that they could not fly, so they happily left the ground and went on to greater heights. Bobby, too, is flying when naturally it looked like there may be limitations that would hold him back. The start to Bobby’s life was picture perfect, with five brothers , one sister and 250 chickens outside in the coop, just 2 miles from Harrisburg, PA. His dad worked hard at a steel mill, while his mother faithfully plugged away each day at her job at the local DMV. But one day, while collecting soda bottles for extra cash, his world would change. That day Bobby was hit by a car, that left him in a 48-hour coma. When asked about the incident, Bobby says he is a “lucky one” to have woken up. However, life would never be the same due to the damage to his brain. Yet Bobby, like the bee, didn’t seem to notice limitations others may have placed on him. In a high school of 2,000, he tried out for the football team and not only made it, but after a few years of playing, was awarded a scholarship to Purdue University and the University of Pennslyvania. The 14★
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only hindrance? Due to the damage to his brain from the accident, his SAT scores were too low. “Kids at Purdue are smart,” Bobby says. “Astronauts went to Purdue.” When asked if he was sad about not being able to play university football, he said, ‘No, it’s okay.” Instead , Bobby worked in construction, in restaurants and on farms. The heat and humidity, as well as the 12-hour days, made this stage of Bobby’s life not-so -fun. But he was used to the long hours. In high school he had worked these jobs in the summers, so he could afford clothes for school. During these years, he lived with his mother and father, until his father died in 1986 and his mother in 2001. The money used to pay the mortgage on their house went to his mother’s nursing home before her death. The bank foreclosed the house and Bobby was left with no place to go. So Bobby decided to move out to Los Angeles, to be close to his twin brother, Bill, a bodybuilder in Venice Beach. “I’m 4 minutes older,” Bobby proudly says. In 2003, Bobby got a job in the kitchen of a Japanese restaurant, Taki Sushi. When the restaurant closed down in 2005, Bobby got a job as an AT&T sign holder. While that job did not sustain him fully, his brother introduced him to a couple in Beverly Hills who owned two Japanese restaurants. Their home boasts 18 bedrooms, 4 baths and 2 kitchens. They needed a housekeeper, so Bobby took on a second job. His Beverly Hills “bosses” are really more like family to him. They treat this man who grew up in the quintessential country environment, with 250 chickens running around his yard, to dinners on Rodeo drive. They also provided Bobby a home to live in, in one of the apartment buildings they own in Venice Beach. But even with the “royal treatment” Bobby receives from his housekeeping managers, he still makes it a priority to come down to Food Not Bombs weekly. “Friends and food,” he says are the reasons. The community aspect is very important to him. At any given Food Not Bombs event, Bobby can be seen making his rounds to say hi to everyone. The volunteers would easily say that he is one of the most tender-hearted and caring people. He remembers a former member of Food Not Bombs, “Jenny is in Ecuador,” he says. “She missed home. She said hi to me on email.” He even mentions the volunteers by name. “There’s Carrie, Yasmine, the other Carrie and Jenny.” “Carrie wants to go to Columbia,” he says. “She visited New York.” One could say that Bobby watches these volunteers take the “flight of the bumblee,” just as he has. And may he continue to fly.
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Homeless Services West L.A. Area 3/20/2010 Showers, Laundry, Free Clothing, Meals, Phone Calls, Computer Access, Mail Pick Up, Psychiatrists: Step Up on Second, 1328 Second St. Santa Monica (310) 394-6889. Clients must register (free) with Step-Up to receive services, and St. Joseph Homelss Services, 373 Rose Ave, Venice (310) 399-6878 (including Spanish speaking staff). Reservations must be made for showers and laundry usage due to heavy use at Step Up Call St. Joseph’s for availability.
Homeless Assistance: Dept. of Mental Health: (310) 399-6878 Westisde Mental Health Center (Edelman): (310) 966-6500, SE Corner of Olympic and Sepulveda:
Didi Hirsch Mental Health Clinic: (310) 390-6612 Daybreak Day Center Health Services: 1614 Ocean Ave, SM also Day Care at Alcott Center: (310) 785-2121 Call 211 for Health and Human Services or (800) 339-6993
Burrito Project every other Tuesday at different locations throughout West LA and Culver City, Silver Lake, Downtown L.A. Contact: Paul Barone, E-mail: CPBurrito@gmail.com, Facebook: http://www.facebook. com/group.php?gid=264911513339&ref=mf
Food Not Bombs: Every Thursday at 10:30 at Third Street and Wilshire next to Old Navy
Union Rescue Mission: (213) 347-6300 Poor People’s Economic Human Rights Campaign: old.economichumanrights.org Want to be listed on the back page? E-mail your service and contact info to fnbzine@gmail.com.