Inky Squib Magazine - Issue Three by matt dicosta

ISSUE THREE INKY SQUIB MAGAZINE

INKY

adam sibson ben q claire penson glen binger joseph mc car thy kevin conder kimberley owen laura glitsos lindsey jane matt dicosta maura recoba micahel lombardi mirium skare steven dicosta squiz steve toa se tiff dougla s

CONTRIBUTORS

feature artist - michael lombardi

letters with love

the ninja attack - episode three

photography - love captured in the street

feaure artist - michael lombardi two

looking for love in all the worng places

interviewing the generations - love.

new york light - a short story

INKY INKY

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CONTENTS

ARTIST

MICHAEL TAKES US ON A RIDE THROUGH THE WORLD OF SWING DANCE AND CAFE CULTURE, SEDUCTION AND FLIRTATION.

MICHAEL LOMBARDI 001

PACK YOUR ROUGE. YOU'RE GETTING HOME LATE TONIGHT.

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ARTIST

"I'm an avid swing dancer and lover of life drawing".

OUTLAW

GIRLLOOK

ROBOT 003

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THEME

ARTIST

O O O O

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ARTIST

describe your work ? I draw inspiration from working in animation , love of old cartoons and the various retro scenes Perth has to offer. My artwork prominently tries to capture the feeling of 50's style characters and scenes from other bygone era's.

what artists do you like?

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i like a lot of animators work, and follow a lot of their blogs. In terms of artists, there are quite a few who draw from the same inspiration I do, such as the artist's found in Outre gallery.

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EXPERIMENTALIST

letters with love. We humans are governed by our emotions and our need to be loved. Are we alone in this thinking? Inky found some old love letters that help answer the question.

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IMAGE BY MIRIUM SKARE

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EXPERIMENTALIST

THEME

BY GLEN BINGER

love letter By the time you read this, maggots will be well on their way to devouring my organs. Any emotions that were once shared will be emptied into infinite space, rotting with the rest of my soul. But I don't mean to sound negative here. I'm not a Debbie Downer - you know that. I'm just impatient. I'm writing you this to reinforce the feelings I've developed with you along our given time. To finite the infinite. I want you to know that everything was mutual, even if my side is currently bouncing between meteors and distant galaxies and massive, flesh-eating space worms. It is important to me, to you, to us that you understand the emphasis I am putting on 'forever.' Forever, I'll never forget the salty taste of your flipflops after a long night of partying or the way you watch me shit in the middle of the street only to clean up after it. I may not have shown you my appreciation then, but that's why I'm leaving you this letter. I hope you will see. No one will love you the way I love you. I hope those dead rabbits at your doorstep illustrated that well enough. Don't worry - one day we will be together again, floating through space on infinite boat rides. And there, dogs will be allowed in the water - we can swim together and play catch all day long. It will be like old times, when we were young and our muscles were taut with energy and joy. Until then, I'll be waiting for you at the door, my tail uncontrollable and my heart about to burst. Yours Truly, Sparky 010

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THEME - INTERVIEW

EXPERIMENTALIST

BY MATT DICOSTA

Every evening your eyes light up.

wink

She dances from the fridge to the stove with bags of leaks and tomatoes. Every so often she looks at him through her window. Her dance class is tomorrow night but he knows that. Across the road, he ashes from the window ledge as she chops at the vegetables. They have secrets. The secret kiss they blow to each other at bed time, that’s one. The fact they’ve never met, another. They maintain a perfect alchemy without touching. Without speaking. But without us they wouldn’t be possible, just as, without them your eyes wouldn’t light up for me. I’ll tell you their story so you can understand mine. They’ve been looking at each other for five months now. Ever since she moved downtown. In summer they hang their legs from the windows and salute with red wine. The sun lights up the busy street below and, between the chatting and coffee sipping , in secret, I salute you. When she leaves for dance class his window stays closed. Still, I watch from the shadows. Every so often someone will stop to admire. Those arched corbels, that detailed recess work, they don’t love you the way I do. At night he stares at the ceiling and talks about her. I try to concentrate but her soft skin ends up pressed stone. Her smile a row of beautiful shop fronts. Her glistening hair, fire escapes. Those beautifully crafted, wrought iron fire escapes. This is something you should know. Every evening when your eyes light up, so do mine. But, unlike our friends, i'm unable to reach you. So the next time you see the light flickering across the street, think what it could be. Could it be my old power cables playing up again, yes, or could it be your secret admirer winking at you. With Love. 54 Parkview Drive

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EXPERiMENTALIST

EXPERIMENTALIST

BY JOSEPH MC CARTHY

to my dearest To my Dearest Simile, Your letters are as graceful and sleek as a cat; you are as clever as a fox and wilier than a coyote. You always help us understand by comparison a description like a guide describing art. Yet you’re more like the circular brush strokes on the ‘Mona Lisa’. Simple and genius. I miss you as the moon must miss the sun during periods in between eclipses; our meetings are rare and fleeting but more inspiring than a lobster telephone. We are both a type of metaphor you and I, so how birds and bees do it, let us fall deeper in love, deeper than the deepest chasm, if you prefer. Our love will grow larger than a mountain and we shall look down upon

all other figures of speech that appear to us as ants. We’ll declare our love louder than the speakers of a Rammstein concert and be farther than any whale’s sound could travel. As Dickens said, ‘…the wisdom or our ancestors is in the simile’, you are not only as wise as an owl but you make others wise, as a teacher does for her students. I love you Simile, as long as an immortals life span and as strong as an ox. I hope this tribute to some of your most classic appearances will show the devotion I have for you. I am as devoted to you as a road is to its destination. Love always, Hyperbole

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SHORT STORY

BY TIFFANY DOUGLAS

celestial The celestial hum of the tube fills his ears every night; he sits there and basks in the warmth of the artificial glow. He no longer must feel the violence of another night alone; he is addicted to the static of the lazy love of the lonesome. Reggie lay there in his chair on a Tuesday night, the air was the same as the night before, it hadn’t moved, he hadn’t the need to disturb the atmosphere. In his throne, surrounded by a kingdom of cardboard boxes and shiny fast food wrappings, he set the recliner forward, slicked his hair back with his bad hand and grasped the remote with his good one. There was only one thing on his mind

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when he woke up in the afternoon to when he goes to bed in the morning, it is her, and she is all there is, all that matters. His fingers caressed the black remote, tired from a thousand journeys they have shared, tired from all the happiness they had wrought, and together they explored the world. Beyond Reggie’s throne stood the universe. “Click” with that subtle noise came a flash of light that would be their journey into oblivion, searching for the only place he could find himself he set his destination, channel 46, 12:06am “Star Scope”. Reggie’s eyes opened wider to drink in all the richness of his joy, the theme started and he was from then on,

all hers. Her rich Red hair burnt his heart, her pale white skin soothed his very soul, and he loved her more than any man could desire a woman. Captain Astra O’Brien is his one and only true love, the one that burns his very being. He laughed with her as she proves wrong all those that oppose her, he cried with her when she loses one of her crew but he has travelled with her, for years he has shared her life, if only she knew just how much he yearns to be with her. The three episode run came to an end and they must say goodbye, she has defeated the psychic space policemen who were framing her for the murder of the universal magistrate, all is well in the universe and now Reggie can rest, comforted

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SHORT STORY

by the glow of his only solace. The time he sleeps is not kind to him; flashes of terrible visions blind his mind to the light. Violent visions of anger and torment, scratching him and digging at his eyes. They make him feel dirty, unnerved, the way he felt before he found the light, before he found something to let them live for. Just when he thought he was lost again, she held out her hand, her soft hand, she held him up and held him high, above the world. He awoke, startled by the dogs barking next door. Four hours before he even needed to do anything, he picked himself up and put back on his flannelette shirt, hiked his tracksuit pants just over his enormous belly and sent himself outside, into the make believe world. Each with their judgemental eyes the folks of the neighbourhood stare at him, clasp at their children and mumble the same thing under their breath â&#x20AC;&#x153;they should have never let him outâ&#x20AC;?. Reggie quickly gets his fish and chips and heads back to his trailer, back to the real world, his world, the

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world where he belongs.

universe, Is she thinking of me? He wondered, musing how aware she is He shuts the door behind him and of his feelings, he would never hurt all the chattering stops, they never her; he would never hurt another forget, never forgive. The people of woman ever again, just to please their world will never let him live her. Then suddenly as of some without the knowledge of who terrible thrust back to reality a rock is he used to be, how he made the launched through the window of his whole world feel his torture, by caravan, and another, and another. inflicting his pain upon them. Can They hit his kitchen and all the two a man not change? Can a man not plates and glasses he has. He turns be lifted from his evils by the arms around to see who it is but then of love? He did his time, in a cold something more important occurs to cell for twenty one years he sat and him, I must protect her. He flies over contemplated all the terror he had to his throne and throws himself in bestowed to the women who he front of the television, as the rocks felt such contempt for, but not any still are thrashing into his home, he more. With only a collection of old gets struck on the back. He huddles videotapes to show him another around the television, holding it way, only her stern hand to show close, shielding it from harm. His him the way home. He sat and ate shirt fills up with blood from blow his food in silence, not caring how after blow after blow, he begins to he looked while doing it. He thought lose conciseness, and drops the TV of Astraâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s lips, how they separate on the ground. every time she is nervous about a decision, how her hair constantly The only one he had, the only one moved elegantly across her body. there was, the only thing he had in How her eyes reflect the stars into the way of himself. Is gone. oblivion whenever she looked out of her command deck into the

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NINJA

BY BEN Q

the ninja attack in biggleswade

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I approach the church silently, crouching low to the ground. My trike is parked about a hundred metres away from the rear entrance, in a bush. I’m carrying a length of hosepipe in my right hand and my digital cameraphone in my left, ready to catch a shot of one of these stealthy little freaks. They’ve covered the entire outer wall on this side with black silk that’s twisted into ropy lengths so that they can climb up and slide down from the roof. They love doing that. I’ve been watching them. They mostly come at night. Mostly. As I get to the front entrance I see that the door is slightly open. I check around me for silly ninjas that aren’t very stealthy, then tiptoe closer to the door. And then I hear it. It’s a sound. An indescribable sound. I ignore the sound and carry on into the church through the gap in the door. It makes me feel good to be stealthing around myself, so I start to hum a little theme tune. It gives me a bit of a boost, so then I start singing a bit louder, and I throw in a few beat-box riffs and start moonwalking into the foyer. I stop at the font. I saw a shadow move. Inside the main hall. Among the pews. Perhaps one of them heard me singing. I drop and roll. A little closer to the hall now and crouching right in the middle of the doorway, my grip tightens on my hosepipe weapon. I’ve never used one before but I heard about it being a weapon in a computer game and I figured it would be pretty cool to be hitting ninja with hosepipes so I cut up the one that Aqulak made me buy for doing the lawn. I had never used it before, but now I was glad of it. I breathe. Nothing. Then suddenly something. Then nothing again. I crouch-walk forward a few paces. My senses are tingling. I can feel my hair. Looking towards the back of the dark church hall I faintly make out that ropes of the black climbing material have been slung in through the high windows. And one of the ropes appears to be moving. Bang. Out of nowhere a massive, solid wet blow to the side of my head. I’m suddenly falling. My wrist hits the ground and then my elbow and my shoulder and I’m down. My mind realizes what’s happening and I turn to see where my attacker is and he’s right there in front of me raising his foot backwards and BANG! 021

PHOTOGRAPHY

CAPTURED IN THE STREET. WE SENT OUR FLEET OF SNAP HAPPY CREEPERS TO FIND LOVE IN THE STREET 022

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PHOTOGRAPHY

BY MATT DICOSTA

OLD SONG Remember that song you loved for a time It etched your heart and the back of your mind Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s timing and chorus turned time on its side It turned dark into light, shy into pride You understood this song, as it understood you When you sang along, nothing mattered to you But as the seasons changed, too did your mood Still in teaming rain, it sang for you It never missed a beat, never changed on you The angelâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s whispered love, they whispered for you Some things can never lie As some things can never die But then like a shot, you went and forgot I begged you to stop Egged you to hold on I pray that you not Make me your old song IMAGE BY LYNDSEY JANE

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PHOTOGRAPHY

BY SQUIZ

RECEIVED DIRECTION Hey you remember me? I chased you in a dream I caught your tears in a cup I muffled silent screams

Hey you remember me? I destroyed the trust you grew I deceived my friend, the only one I wish you never knew

Hey you remember me? I delivered the secret code I wrote the forgotten lyrics I carried half your load

Hey you remember me? I considered me alone I relayed direction down wrong paths I left you with no home

Hey you remember me? I sewed together the threads I sold my soul, the one you owned I was born again when dead Hey you remember me? I lit the light in life I opened the door of memories past I stabbed you with this knife 026

Hey you, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m sorry For all that I have done Both apart, both content Both alone, who won? IMAGE BY KIMBERLEY OWEN

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PHOTOGRAPHY

BY KEVIN CONDER

IMAGE BY LYNDSEY JANE

SEMI PRIVATE

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no one listens to anything I say anymore singing all day through this tracheotomy tube hummingbirds hit the window

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PHOTOGRAPHY

BY TIFFANY DOUGLAS

ON FALLEN GROUND

The dirt on Mars falls through my hands, and into the atmosphere, a dark bellowing swamp ahead of the sands, with a stench that feels so near. I loved this place when I was young so bright, the light, I felt. I fell to the wind and clung, to all that beauty that was dealt

From outside the city I felt all the blames that rushed at my soul. I was never tormented by the names until the spirits came and invented the cold. I pitied them once when I only saw their torture, their pleas, so drawn. But that beast is still there on the floor with my wife cut upon like a fawn. Our new life, stolen in our slumber, our chains were built thereafter. The shouting and coughing that

came from under never stifled the sound of their laughter. I performed for them when I was there I fought, I mused, I forgave. Looking out into the clean free air, no faces saw a soul to save.

My brother you are free, to tear through the cold blame, devour their smiles whilst beckoning me, to dance at the ruin of their name. I served on Mars when they came my home, the night, and day. All our brothers felt the same The humans will forever pay.

IMAGE BY LYDNSEY JANE

Now from the mountains to the sea, there are screams fallen in blood. Nothing that is here is fit for me for I am and always will be , the flood. I hated them once when I felt rage the anger,

so fierce, they wrought. In a gleam of madness I opened the cage and the beast with his smite was brought.

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FLASH

BY MAURA R E

COBA

FLASH

FLYING PIGS W

ITH DIRTY WIN

So if the sky should start falling.. And birds start crawling, Cats flying all through the air, pigs with wings everywhere. Would it be all that bizarre? Upside down, sky made of tar. The sunshine at our feet, Clouds make up the streets. Would your tears fall up, Would your smile face down. How crazy it would look, If your smile was a frown. Would the world feel that wrong, Or maybe feel just right, Would our clarity feel hazy, If the sun shined bright at night? Bright rays at our feet, Wear sunglasses to sleep. How do you love upside down? Love means tears and a big ol' frown. To be faithful you must cheat, No secret is ever meant to keep. So if that is backwards, our world must be just right. Our world makes senseFrom morning to night.

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How do you work in all the wrong ways? Does having a heart mean you have no say? Do only the cold make the cash, To win, you must knock over all your associates in this mad dash. So our world is forwards, We love in all the right ways, No money is dirtyWe are honest in all that we say. We speak of how crazy it could be- but don't you see, Take a look at us now, I hurt you, you hurt me. Look at how vindictive and backwards our ways can be.

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SUBMISSIONS

SUBMISSIONS SHORT STORY - < 2000 WORDS FLASH - < 500 WORDS POETRY - 11 POINT / ONE PAGE

www.inkysquib.com 034

ALL ART WORK, SUBMISSIONS AND OTHER WRITING PLEASE EMAIL

INKYENTRIES@HOTMAIL.COM

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FLASH

BY LAURA GLITSOS

77528 Soft, undulate. She is perfect. Wise, never stating the obvious. She does not twirl her hair or giggle. I am never lonely with her. I was nobody but now, now I am King. She comes everywhere with me. Mostly waiting in the car. We always joke about that. She has legs, long and smooth – she just never likes to use them. With legs like those, she can get away with whatever she likes. We joke about that too. It is then you know you have found Her. Sharing balanced perfection between humid desire and child-like laughter. The picture on her cover is slightly textured. Her hair; jet black – infinite. There are no creases in her eyelids. A testament to the country of her origin; her ‘manufacture’. But there is nothing manufactured about this purity. Unconditional love. Endless and enduring.

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It is momentarily interrupted as I put her in the wash. The instructions read ‘do not dryclean’. Only the best for my Baby. I wait in silence at the Laudromat. Only the Laundromat has machines big enough for her. I wait in silence as she turns, as she gets wet. Even now, my jeans get tight. I shift my bodyweight forward so other customers do not judge. She is the only one who does not judge. The customers stare at us both as I rescue her from the machine. We are together again. They do not understand. How could they? How could anyone understand until they receive their own special package in the mail; with words understating the beauty of the contents… “1 x Full Length Body Pillow. Model ‘Kanji 77528’”.

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FLASH

BY STEVE TOASE

the keys

Carole kissed me on the cheek. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Can I borrow your keys? I left mine at work.â&#x20AC;? she said through a mouthful of toast. Nodding I dug them out of my pocket and threw them on the table. The front door slammed behind me. You could almost hear Carole wince (Slamming doors were one of her pet hates) but it made sure the lock caught properly. You can't be too careful, even round here. Already late I rushed to the car, reaching across the passenger side to unlock the drivers door, climbing in and turning on the radio. The engine started, reluctantly, and I drove to the the bottom of the culdesac to turn around. The figure stood in our bedroom window, at six foot too tall to be Carole. His eyes caught mine and a smile broke across his face, just visible through the mask. I stopped the car and dived across the narrow street. My shoulder hit the door repeatedly but the lock held solid.

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L L O MICH MBAR A HAEL LO EL LO M M B ARDI ARDI ARTIST

A B I M D R O A BEL L A 040

ARTIST

I D R

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ARTIST

work for sale -any of my artwork is available to be printed. I can be contacted at

lombardi _Michael@yahoo.com websites, blog -

http://mr-lambi.livejournal.com/

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ITHINKYOURLO VELETTERSARE SQUIBSFILLED WITHSWEETNES SANDAROMAGO ODENOUGHTOT EARMYTISSUES APARTANDLETOU RYOUTHREENACT.

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UNDER THE WINGS

looking for love in

UNDER THE WINGS

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all the wrong places I've always been a big people watcher, and after spending countless hours sitting in cafes and bars and observing people in Asia, I'd have to say I have developed a knack for spotting transvestites. You can laugh, but trust me....you'd want me by your side when wandering the streets of Bangkok after ten beers. A popular misconception held by many tourists is that transvestites, like the Thai lady boys, are all very similar to the 'Priscilla Queen of the Desert' dudes. Travellers assume these 'ladies' are all flamboyant, innocent and funny people. It's not the case. Forget Priscilla, cabaret, big hair and makeup. Instead, think Thai mafia, drink spiking, assaults and theft. Robbing drunken Westerners who are looking for love is big business for many Asians, and behind the well hidden

BY ADAM SIBSON

penises and fake breasts, lays a dark and violent underworld. It was my third trip to Thailand. This time it was a boy’s trip away to Koh Phangan to catch the Half Moon Party in the jungle. It was the night before the half moon and we were at a beach party on the main stretch. I was sitting at a beach bar with my two English mates and we’d just finished drinking those infamous Thai ‘mushroom shakes’. It was a good party, but I'd suddenly realized the presence of lady boys and had become tense. I knew about lady boys....they made me nervous. I'd seen some bad stuff go down on previous trips in places like Phuket and Koh Samui, and unlike many other 'green' travellers in Thailand, I knew they were conniving, aggressive and not to be trifled

with. I'd noticed that the lady boys were hugging the outskirts of this particular beach party. They were lurking in the shadows and waiting for people to get drunk... slowly working their way in towards the centre of the crowd. The mushroom shakes had kicked in. I suddenly realised I was using two hands to hold my head upright because my neck felt like a strand of cooked spaghetti. My short little English mate next to me had gone foetal …hugging his knees to his chest, shaking his head and rocking on his stool. I noticed my other taller English mate was gone, but after a while I spotted him sitting crosslegged on the sand right in front of the local fire twirling performance (five metres in front of all the other spectators who were all politely sitting in designated chairs). The 047

UNDER THE WINGS

flames must have been burning his eyebrows he was that close. He was in the zone, completely absorbed in a hallucinogenic yellow haze of flames and ‘whooshing’ sounds. I remember ordering a beer and the volume of my voice surprised me as well as the confused barman, who took a startled step back from me… this was a strong shake. As I sat there fidgeting with the beer bottle label, I noticed a guy just to my right was standing watching the fire show with his arm around a local girl. He was a young American guy, probably no older than 20…. and he seemed quite happy with himself after pulling this particular Thai girl…except she wasn't a girl. Over the next half hour, I couldn’t stop looking at the American and the lady boy. I kept thinking, ‘Maybe this guy is into transgender sex?’ If he was, fair enough, whatever floats your boat. But as time went on, it became clear this guy had no idea that the ass he was caressing belonged to a male. I felt bad for him. Whatever was going to happen to this poor dude tonight would affect him forever. I knew he would either get robbed, drugged or scared into paying money once he got her

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home and his wandering hands ran over bumps where there shouldn't have been bumps. The mushroom shake must've affected me more than I'd thought, because I had no idea how badly I was staring. The lady boy on the American’s arm had suddenly clapped her hands above her head and a shifty looking local guy in board shorts and an entire torso covered in tattoos, walked over to her and started talking. They suddenly both turned and looked at me, the lady boy pointing directly at me. Fuck. The guy with the tatts started menacingly walking over to me. Panicking, I jumped off my stool to walk away but as soon as my feet hit the sand I collapsed, completely paralysed by the damn mushroom shake. I opened my eyes to see the skinny tattooed Thai guy looming over me and waving a flick knife in my face. “You no farking say ok? You no farkin say to 'im,” He hissed at me. “Fucking hell, OK OK, I no say,” I splurted back. He darted off into the shadows and I suddenly felt two hands under my armpits, helping me to my feet. It

was a dreadlocked, scruffy looking hippy guy. By the look of him, he’d overstayed his visa a long time ago and was bumming on the island. “Thanks mate, what the hell was that about?” I stammered. “You just met a member of the Thai mafia, bruv” He was a geezer. “Mafia?” “Yeah, they run most of the island ‘ere. Some ‘ov ‘em provide some ov the lady boys wiv’ ‘omes, and in return the ladies rob the tourists and giv’ a cut to the mawfia. Vat bloke was kinda like a pimp, know wot’ I mean” “Oh, ok then” “Guess he 'fort you were gunna give da' game away to that yank mate. Don’t git involved 'ay, and best not stare bruv!” He then wandered off into the crowd. After taking an eternity to shuffle back onto my stool, I looked over at my short mate sitting next to me. He’d missed everything, completely comatose and focusing on his head shaking. My other mate was still making a spectacle of himself, sitting google-eyed in front of the

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UNDER THE WINGS

fire twirling, like a first grade student listening to a story in class. I looked at my watch... 1am. I hesitantly looked up from my beer, and noticed the lady boys had moved in and were now working the crowd. For the next hour, I sat locked in a hallucinogenic, paranoid state… witnessing dozens of people getting robbed, attacked and drugged. There was nothing I could do. I'd wanted to leave immediately, but I couldn’t walk because of the mushroom shake... so I knew I was stuck at the beach bar until I straightened up. There was no way I was going to step in and object to these lady boys screwing people over, not when the Thai mafia had their backs….and certainly not when I was tripping balls on mushrooms. All I could do was bow my head and stare into my beer, occasionally looking up to scan the crowd, trying not to stare or make eye contact with anyone. Every time I looked up though, bad stuff was going down all around me. To my left, two large football players were chatting with two lady

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UNDER THE WINGS

boys when I saw one of the 'ladies' quickly pull a canister out of her purse and tip its contents into one of the guy's drinks. Not long after seeing that, I realized the drink spiking must have been rampant, because guys were dropping like flies. Completely paralytic men drooled and lurched around in the sand, while their confused friends tried to help them up. The lady boys were on these guys in a flash, sifting their hands through the drugged out guy’s pockets while pretending to help them to their feet. I remember looking down the beach and seeing two tourists walking back to their villa in the moonlight, about 50 metres away. Suddenly two long haired shadows approached them from a hut further up the shore. The two shadows suddenly jumped on one person and the other ran off, panicking and waving their hands in the air for help. I must have seen about six or seven guys get blatantly pickpocketed, one lady boy using the bump and grab method while the

other lady boy distracted the drunk victim. I couldn’t believe all these things were going on unnoticed. The massive Western crowd was oblivious to what was happening. Everyone was in a drunken haze, intent on sexual pursuits, jumping over flaming skipping ropes and experimenting with small, sand buckets of liquor filled with straws and mini umbrellas.

Westerners when they're at their most vulnerable...drunk, holidaying and looking for some love. I looked closer at the behaviour of the partying westerners, and I realized part of me didn’t really blame these lady boys either. They get stared at, pointed at, laughed at and made fun of by a bunch of naïve, loud, and drunken travellers who are using and abusing Thailand.... and in a way, I suppose I could paint myself with After a while, I noticed the shake the same brush. Koh Phangan is fast was shifting gears on me. I’d becoming the whore of the world, become slightly introspective yet the Thai people living there while sitting at this bar watching remain desperate and poor. Deep the events unfold. People were down I knew, that if I were dirt poor coming here to enjoy a holiday and and these people came to my home hopefully trying to pick up….because country and behaved the way they let’s face it, a holiday romance is in did...I honestly think I'd be slipping the back of every young travellers’ my hand into a few oblivious, mind. You go to beach parties ready drunken tourist's cash-filled pockets for love and looking to get wasted. as well....although, I probably draw While holidaying on a tropical beach, the line at wearing a skirt and taping you’re not concerned with constantly my wiener to my stomach just to watching your back. But you have assist my pick pocketing technique. to be….that’s the way the world is... there are literally millions of people who make a living by ripping off

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RANT

BY STEVEN DICOSTA

rusty pots

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I have the dubious honour of working for one of Britain’s national collections. I say dubious only because the prestige once afforded to the protection and presentation of historical objects was long ago traded by the government for a pair of football boots. Consequently, the few, the proud of today’s museum world have inherited granny’s dusty trunk of precious memories, but receives precious little help to shake

them out and impress the capitalists in the rummage shop downtown. A tangled metaphor, I’ll admit, but one that I like because it allows me to visualise holding up an enormous pair of granny’s knickers that haven’t seen daylight since wartime. I will say this: working in a museum offers an invaluable insight into what people know and what they don’t and what they think they know but actually have very, very wrong.

I find most people’s historical knowledge is as follows: In the beginning were the dinosaurs, they were killed by the Egyptians who were in turn killed by the Romans... the Greeks were neighbours to both and invented sport. The Greeks and Romans were outwitted by DaVinci and his flying machines - he was friends with Shakespeare, who was the grandson of King Arthur.

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RANT

Shakespeare wrote plays for Queen Elizabeth the First who was the present Queen's grandmother. The assassination of Ghandi led to the First and Second World Wars during which we fought both the fascist Germans and the communist Russians. World War II was wrapped up in time for the birth of Madonna, who invented bras. Present Day. More interesting for me are those delightful characters that believe they have in their possession the greatest treasure since Tutankhamen’s Mask. They will corner you in a lonely gallery and begin with an innocent question along the lines of: “How much do you know about dentists’ chairs…?” Before you know it, you’re being asked to provide a rough estimate in monetary terms of some rusty piece of nightmarish medical equipment that has been kennelled away in some garage

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in Bolton for the last thirty years. Their disappointment would be pitiable if they weren’t so insistent that perhaps the curators would be interested to go and view the item in question. Let me tell you something about curators: they aren't interested in travelling halfway up the country to assess Uncle Roland’s disused torture device anymore than the man who works at your local drycleaners - in fact, probably less. Curators are a very peculiar bunch of people. It makes a strange kind of sense when you consider the likely disposition of a person who chooses a career path that is essentially glorified hording. As children we all collect something; stickers, comics, dolls, baseball cards or whatever… but the obsession is usually shortlived. Some people become ‘collectors’ and amass absurd

amounts of knick-knacks that usually tie into some kind of animal fixation. Representations of frogs, pigs, cows and cats seem to be especially popular. These people are unquestionably quirky, but nevertheless tend to have lives of their own besides. The curator is a different animal. This person makes a living by obsessively appropriating objects from a ludicrously specific subject area: Sicilian cookware from the late nineteenth century or ceramic representations of camels from countries that start with the letter ‘A,’ for example. They move alone and in the shadows. They speak rarely and bluntly. They also secretly enjoy the fact that everyone thinks they’re mad. I must confess it was only when I realised this last point that I finally started to like them.

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INTERVIEW

interviewing the generations.

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IN A RAPIDLY CHANGING WORLD OUR VALUES, THOUGHTS AND WAYS OF LIVING ARE UNDER CONSTANT THREAT OF UPGRADE. IS THIS EVOLUTION NECESSARY? INKY ASKS 'THE GENERATIONS' HOW THEY FEEL ABOUT LOVE.

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meet joren TEN YEAR OLD

Hey dude, how’s it hangin? Ok How’s school? It is finally over!,holidays Do you hate it when adults ask that question? Yes a lot So do you have a girlfriend? No If yes, tell me about her? I said no What do you guys do together for fun? Stop it already

How old are you going to be when you get married? Around 30-36 What are going to do for a job when you get older? I'm going to become a radiologist Are you going to have kids? Yes How many? About 2

If not, why not? Because they can be annoying

Are you going to be like your parents when you get older? No I will be different. I want to be rich

Don’t you like girls? I like them a bit but only a bit!!!

Do your friends have girlfriends? No they're single

Why don’t you like girls? Because sometimes they don't stop nagging

What do you think love is? I don't have any idea

Are you going to get married one day? I will definitely get married Why do you think old people have girlfriends? Because they like each other

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Describe your dream girl for me? I don't have one

Give me an example of love? A couple go three years without a single fight Ill let you get back to video games now…That’s enough adult stuff for one night. Thanks mate.

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INTERVIEW

meet tara and ash TWENTY SOMETHINGS

Hey girls, can I presume youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re not married? A: Married to this woman? At 20? No way. T: NOOOO What are your thoughts on marriage? A: Complete imprisonment and you end up a broken, damaged soul usually by the end of it, but whatever floats your boat if your

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boat is the ride to complete selfdestruction. T: Could potentially be lovely if it was with the right person, but there are so many broken marriages that you know of everyday and Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m constantly reminded of that. How long have you been together? A and T: We have officially been together for 8 months

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POETRY

What does it take to be in a working couple? A and T: It takes patience and understanding. We think a good relationship is built on trust and honesty. Spontaneity definitely helps if you are the type of person that gets bored easily.

love regardless of gender. Screw tradition, it’s 2011. T: Some drunk and the hooker he picked up off the street in Las Vegas have more of a right to get married than a same sex couple that completely love each other, what sort of government is that?

What is it that you love about each other? A: Nothing. I joke, I love that she’s beautiful, ambitious, clever and talented. I love that she is there for me and understands me the way no one else has. I love that we can argue and easily and healthily overcome our issues together. She makes me happy, and I love her for that. T: Everything, I love the way she supports me, the way she makes me laugh and the way she understands me. I love that we can turn a pathetic argument into something silly and just have a good laugh about it.

Is getting married important to you? A: Not really, I’ve never seen marriage as sacred however if in the future the woman I love wants the papers to say so then so be it. Maybe my thoughts will change later. T: Yes and No. There is no point in getting married to someone you do not love. If it is likely to end in divorce then why bother. If I loved a person truly and felt they were the right person for me then yes marriage would be very important, I feel marriage shows a persons true and full commitment.

Does today’s world put pressure on What are your thoughts on marriages? Temptations, thinking? governments that disagree with gay A: I don’t know what you mean by marriage? that, media? Religion? In terms of A: There is no problem with two media influence yes, how many people of the same sex getting celebrities do you see in and out of married. I’m usually indifferent when marriages? it comes to marriage but I know T: Not really. that everyone should have the right to be married to person they When you think of old people 062

married for 60 years what do you think? Feel? A: I think it’s adorable that they’ve managed to stay together throughout it all. Good for them, I respect that. T: Its admirable, that two people can stay together for years and years even when they are old and wrinkly looking.

A: There are all different types of love; I can only feel it not explain it. How corny. T: Love is when you can fully appreciate someone else for exactly who they are, and love them for that.

What do you do to show your love? A: Generally I’m very generous toward a lot of people and I like to help. I show understanding, empathy, and I listen and learn. With Do you aspire to this? Despise this? A: Neither. Maybe aspire if I met the Tara it’s a whole different world. She knows I care for her, I cook for her, I woman of my dreams in the future surprise her with little things, I give but see Keira Knightley is currently tied down, give me a few more years her massages, I buy her things, I tell her I love her and my cuddles are to until I can sweep her off her feet. die for. T: Not particularly. T: LOTS OF KISSES What is love to you? 063

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Older generations consider sharing partners in sexual encounters out of bounds. What are your thoughts on this? Has this thinking changed? A: Well out of general respect and courtesy for the person you’re with, if the two are in an agreement that it’s a monogamous relationship, then yes sharing partners is out of bounds. Personally I believe monogamy is unnatural, people cheat and it’s just one of the laws of nature, we’re animals. I feel thinking has changed and media is a huge influence. T: Three’s a crowd. A relationship with more than two people is not a relationship. Yes it has definitely changed, but I think that two people should stay completely loyal to each other in a relationship.

INTERVIEW

your love? A: I wrote a sarcastic page of ‘my last thoughts’ about the imprisonment of our relationship and its trigger on my horrible and dark past, which made me drink heavily and have re occurring thoughts about suicide. My last paragraph was my plan to end my life. It was obviously a joke, and she took it seriously. Now she understands my twisted humour. There was also the time we were at the pet store to buy a rabbit together, I wanted a rabbit and she decided that we’d get bored of it and it would just be a waste. I said

we could leave it on the road when we’re done and let it fend for itself. We left the store that day saving the life of a bunny. Is there any pressure from your family to get married? A: No, I don’t think they care. My dad is just happy if I am. T: Not really, but my mum would love to plan my wedding!

you’d still probably feel lonely. So no, unless you like the feeling of being completely independent and lonely. T: Yes, if you have a lot of cats. It would be hard but loving someone is an experience people should have at least once in their life.

If this were the last time you saw each other, what would you say? A: It’s a spur of the moment thing, so Is it possible to be single forever and I can’t say I’d know what I’d say right happy? And why? now. A: Maybe, if you had one-night T: I love you? sexual encounters with a million strangers every night, even then

What do you think of the aussie dream, buying a house, having kids, settling down? A: Well it’s not for me. Living that life frightens me. I want to experience everything life has to offer before I settle down, IF I settle down. T: It’s not for everyone, but ideally I think everyone would like to have their own home as for settling down. As for settling down I think personally I’d be more career driven. Can you tell us a funny story that helps paint the readers a picture of 064

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INTERVIEW

meet jody and shane FOURTY SOMETHINGS

How long have you been together? We have been together for 17 years. What age did you get married? We were married at 27. What does it take to be in a working couple? Patience, communication and working as a team.

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What do you think of young people today (regarding how they treat each other)? I don't think they are that different from us. I think many have bought into the disposable culture that is in the advertising and commercialism of today. This translates into relationships as well. It is like a fast food fix where many have got to 067

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have it now. If they don't get what they want they quickly move on so that they do. Reality for some, is the Hollywood movie love affair where both couples are happy and all things that they want for, they get. Reality is not like this. Was getting married deemed a big priority when you were younger? Was it instilled into you? I feel as a female there was an emphasis placed on marriage. Where as I was not given any expectations and told to go do as I please. What are your thoughts on old couples and how they treat each other? I have not thought too much about

INTERVIEW

this in my life as what goes on behind closed doors can be very different from what is perceived when with others. How-ever I think older couples play the male and female roles more separately. Females are to cook and clean while men are the bread winners. If a couple is unhappy they are more likely to stay together because this was how it was. What are your thoughts on gay couples? I don't see how their relationships are any less real or significant than a heterosexual relationship. I think they face more obsticals than a heterosexual couple due to less numbers, so finding Mr or Mr's right is more difficult.

What is love to you? I think that love changes depending upon where you are in your life. When you are young, love is passionate, new and gets explored. As you get older love becomes more familiar and comfortable. Love grows as you learn to accept each others good and bad points no matter what. Love can not exist without honesty, without trusting each other and mutual respect. What do you do to show you love? It sounds really silly but its its normally in the little things like making sure dinners on the table after Shane has been at work, making sure the house is clean etc. Always asking how was your day. For me it is working to provide money for the family. Helping Jody when I can. We both make sure we spend some time each day to talk

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and listen to each other. Is love just a chemical, or is it more? Love is just a chemical. It is not until you have gotten to know someone that you can truly say you love them. Love and a relationship to me are two different things. You can love cat, cry and be upset when its run over by a car. A relationship on the other hand is life changing. What changes have you noticed through the generations? The female role has changed drastically, which in turn has changed the dynamic of relationships. David Bowie said that society was becoming androgynous where the roles between male and female are becoming blurred. I think this will continue as the trend in the future too. Does todayâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s world put pressure on marriages? Temptations, thinking? 069

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Yes. Media must have a huge impact on relationships. Its not fashionable to be married at the moment. More emphasis is put on single lifestyles and they promote these as being fun and carefree. What do you think of the aussie dream, buying a house, having kids, settling down? I think its great if that is what you want. However I don't believe it is the only way. I think this is also changing with the passing generations. The Baby boomers would say this is the way to go. Generation Z on the other hand would say owning a house is out of the reach for 95% of them and would not pursue this as it would then limit their lifestyle.

INTERVIEW

stated she liked on two occasions. Once she tried it one I suggested we buy it. Leaving the store Jody asked, “does this mean we're getting married”? I replied,”yes”. She answered with, “okay, just checking”. We walked off in silence down the street – both comfortable with the silence... Is it possible to be single and happy forever? For some yes. We are not all the same so our needs are different. Does today’s society seem like a place where marriage seems relevant? We don't think so. Laws and expectations have changed.

If this was the last time you were to Can you tell us a funny story that see each other what would you say? helps paint us a picture of your love? We would say thank you for the last I guess how I didn't propose to Jody 17 years its been a great ride. was the best way to win her heart. Jody and I were walking past a Anything else you would like to add? Jewlers when I suggested she try on I see dead people! a ring in the window. One she had

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INTERVIEW

meet frank and tilly SIXTY SOMETHINGS

How long have you been together for? They squabble between each other. Then Frank says, we’ve been sleeping together for 23 years. What does it take to be in a working couple? Understanding, patience and trust.

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Trust is a big one. And a good sense of humour, frank says smiling. What is it you love about each other? Her – His integrity, his loveliness, tenacity and loyalty. Him – Her honesty. How do I look hunny? Fuckin awful, she replies. We all break down laughing. 073

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Him – I couldn’t care less. Her - They should keep it to themselves. The gay pride festival is obscene. Why do they need to advertise like that? That kind of behaviour only alienates them more. They say they want to be accepted into society. Its when they walk around gyrating each other it bothers me. I don’t walk around talking about what positions I do. What are your thoughts on gay marriage? They can have the same rights that marriage gives you, that’s fine, but a marriage is between a man and a woman.

What do you think of how young people treat each other? There is respect within small groups but not to each other. There is a lot of peer pressure that influences kids, and I think that is sad.

Was getting married deemed important when you were young? As important as everything else at that time. You couldn’t logically have sex before marriage back then.

Did you have to sneak around to Where do you think the pressure is meet up? coming from? Her – I did a bit, yes. The front seat The content of what the media is of a Morris 1100. It wasn’t accepted delivering. Sensationalism. There is a that you did it. I got pregnant before class structure developing amongst I got married and my mother walked young people. around the lounge room screaming ‘ 074

what will our friends think!’. Does today’s world cater for working relationships? There are a lot of ways for people to be devious. I suspect the people who cement relationships with houses and kids are expecting more than partner in their life. Its becoming a way of life. What are your thoughts on gay couples?

Lets say your son was gay, would you have the same opinion? He can be recogonised, its just marriage it’s a religious thing. The term marriage, its genesis, is from the sharing of a man and a woman. It’s the literal use of the word we are questioning. A gay union would be a better terminology. Im not sure what beastiality would be called. What is love to you? Her – Love is you putting my leg up on a chair for me. She looks at Frank. I don’t know what love is, I just feel it? Today, young love is different. They are in bed before they base a friendship for a relationship. Him – People are trying to get a taste 075

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for something before they evaluate what flower they are getting. Is love just a chemical or is it more? That depends how you define love. What advice do you have for young couples? Get fucked! They both burst out laughing. No, seriously have a look at what life has before you bite off a chunk. And you don’t need stuff. Plasma tv's and entertainment. You need a path of enjoyment. Deep, rich, simple enjoyment.

The pig will come. Is it possible to be single forever and happy? Her – Not everybody needs somebody. Him – I think everyone needs something. Even a pig. But I don’t believe they are as fulfilled as married people.

Do you think the speed of todays society reflects how relationships are treated? Its taken the person aspect out of life. Technology has stopped us Tell us a story that paints a picture of looking at each other. I don’t see your love? that as positive. Rose smelling isn’t We knew our anniversary was very popular these days. coming up. We always keep that and valentines important. I bought a If this were the last time you saw card. We also always buy each other each other, what would you say? a porcelain flying pig on this date. Him – I love you Her – I agree, I love you. Nothing Why? else to say. Because we are like pigs in muck! Happy. They are all over the house. Anything else you would like to add? Anyways we both forgot about the Him –There was a man that came up anniversary until we checked the with a saying 'joie de vivre'. Which calender and realised we’d missed it. means ‘eat life’. Her – make the most of everyday Have you bought a pig since? and see things in a positive light.

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INKY

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SHORT STORY

BY MATT DICOSTA

new york light

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Sometimes they find you and won’t let go. They see you from the same corner you’ve spent most of your life ignoring. The New York sunlight wants you to notice them and, across that shop floor, that’s just what you do.

The shop owner lifts it from the hook and you have no doubt. These two loves of yours, they belonged together. He takes one look at you and smiles, then walks to the register and waits.

The shop owner with the pink afro, the Brooklyn rugger, he hasn’t noticed what you and the New York sun already have. He hasn’t seen it. It’s that same look you had eleven years ago, in that bar, when you walked over to her. On a wooden hanger, in that shop, it wears itself. The thick prickly violet and brown woollen checks run up and down and diagonally, overlapping each other. Red flowers, baby blue stitching and mauve safety pins scatter across its deep purple canvas. Big orange and purple buttons dot the side pulling the coat tight at the waist. The bottom kicks from the thigh in perfect dainty curves. The elbow patches glisten in gold leaf and silk. Between the shoulders reads, ‘life is happy’, the letters stitched randomly in white and brown and grey thread. The collar wraps to the neck in pink stitch, it buttons high to reveal two candy apple flowers. The lining shines of musky orange to finish off what the New York sun knew had to be seen.

At JFK you load your suit bag onto the conveyer and the man behind the counter tags it and bids it goodbye. The next time you see the coat will be on New Zealand time. You stare at the bag as it disappears into the carrier section and feel like everything you’ve achieved in the past three months of travel will mean nothing if you don’t see it again. In Auckland it boards for a final time – its next stop is in her arms, and finally, hers in yours. That was what happened. And that’s all I’m thinking about now, a month later, as I’m laying across my bed watching her unravel me. I ask her, why are you doing this? Why are we arguing? Stood in the doorway, she says, you know why. She says everything has been different since you got home from your holiday and I’m tired of trying. She glances to the thunderstorm howling in the window. I swallow saliva made of pride and 081

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anger and things I can’t describe. She says the people we were before you went away are different to the ones we are now. Her words are different. They’re tired. In moments like these it’s impossible to feel anything but blankness. And even though, deep down, I’d felt this moment coming, the blankness was beating my rationality to the finish line. For our eleven years, I try for some words. I look to the sad doorway and open my mouth and wait for something magic to follow. The kind of worded magic that comes natural from a man who’d never strayed far from his girl’s frequency. Instead my

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mouth hangs empty and silent. She says, I’m going to London. She tells me to go to Vancouver. A voice I don’t know, it’s mad, and it says grab your clothes and leave if that’s the case. A tear trickles down her cheek as she storms into the robe. I roll over and suffocate my head with pillows, furious with my words. Across the wall an angry shadow lunges in and out, rattling and banging about the robe. In there is someone I no longer know. Her actions had become reactions, violent ones, and in my saddest moment I know it’s over. The banging stops but like a shamed

child I keep my head buried, speaking only through the pillow. Is that it? Are you just going to grab your stuff and leave? Her steps leave the robe and stop beside my bed. I feel her watching me. She huffs at me hiding beneath the pillow. She says, I just have to go. She runs out the doorway and down the hallway. Her thuds dull to taps over the veranda; the rev of her engine fades to nothing as she drives out of my life. Everything stops now. All purpose vanishes. The tense air dissolves into cold loneliness and I’m freezing at the end of my bed. Everything I

should’ve said, it comes back to drown me. I’m washed onto the floor. Outside, the storm allows a sheet of light through my window. I wipe the salt from my eyes and it floods over me. It reminds me of not so long ago. It shines past me and onto something in the corner of the robe, to something it wants me to notice. And there, still neatly hung, are all of her clothes. All still on their wooden hangers. In the middle of them is something purple. Something you only sometimes find and promise to never let go of again.

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INKY TRAVELS

www.inkysquib.com

In July Inky Squib hit the road with some sexy promo posters. Attempt to not be turned on by them. Check out the 'InkySquibMagazine' YouTube Channel or our blog to see the videos.

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