LB
KELLIE LEHR FEATURED ARTIST, p17
Anne Oleson • Alison Myers • José Enrique Medina • Gad KynarKissinger • Anastasia Jill • Laura Beth Johnson • Thomas Sanders • Alisha Waldrop • Tyler Meredith • Andrey Glazkov • Zoe Lea • William C. Crawford • Jen Evans • Gretchen Gales
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EDITOR & PUBLISHER CREATIVE DIRECTOR EDITORIAL BOARD CONTRIBUTING WRITERS
FEATURED ARTIST CONTRIBUTING ARTISTS
COVER PHOTO
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J O U R N A L
Claire Meler Heather Nonnemacher Amber Weaver Mary Imgrund Anne Oleson Alison Myers José Enrique Medina Gad Kynar-Kissinger Anastasia Jill Laura Beth Johnson Thomas Sanders Alisha Waldrop Kellie Lehr Tyler Meredith Andrey Glazkov Zoe Lea William C. Crawford Jen Evans Gretchen Gales Swept Away / Becoming By Kellie Lehr
LB Lady Blue Literary Arts Journal is a publication of Lady Blue Publishing. For inquiries, submissions, or suggestions, contact us at: LadyBluePublishing.com cmeler@ladybluepublishing.com
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Clarksburg by Tyler Meredith
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PUBLISHER’S NOTE Where elegance meets eloquence, you’ll find Lady Blue. If art is the highest form of hope, then the remarkable works contained within these pages attest to just that: the capacity of expression and craft to uplift, to console, and, perhaps most importantly, to illuminate a fierce courage in the wake of adversity. Presented in this issue is a collection of enduring hope, of unmatched artistry. Poets Anne Oleson, Alison Myers, and Alisha Waldrop share intimate snapshots of life, beautiful vignettes that explore our humanity; photographers Jen Evans and Gretchen Gales elucidate reality by abstracting it, injecting light and color into everyday scenes to make the ordinary extraordinary; singer-songwriter Laura Beth Johnson entwines spoken word poetry and music in an emotional reflection of the self; and so much more. My deepest thanks to Mary Imgrund and Amber Weaver, whose commitment to Lady Blue and to our submitters saw this issue to fruition. To our readers and contributors I also owe a heartfelt thankyou; your support and creativity never cease to impress and inspire us. It is with tremendous pride and adoration that I present to you the fifth issue of the Lady Blue Literary Arts Journal—may you find as much allure and enjoyment within these pages as I have. With love,
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CONTENTS 06
TEA BY ANNE OLESON
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WORDS UNVERSED HAVE NO HOME BY ALISON MYERS
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PEACE BY JOSÉ ENRIQUE MEDINA
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A THOUGHT BY GAD KYNAR-KISSINGER
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EXCHANGE BY ANASTASIA JILL
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BARLEY FIELD CHILDREN A SONG WRITTEN AND PERFORMED BY LAURA BETH JOHNSON AS SORROW ESTATE
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FEATURED ARTIST INTERVIEW WITH KELLIE LEHR
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CARNIVAL OF THE ANIMALS BY ALISON MYERS
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SOMEDAY I’LL LOVE TOMMY SANDERS BY THOMAS SANDERS
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HUMMINGBIRD BY ALISHA WALDROP
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SOMETHING (HIDDEN AND) BLUE (ABIDES) BY ALISON MYERS
From the series The Invisible by Jennifer Evans (left)
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TEA BY ANNE OLESON Your eyes drift upward toward the pink clouds of flowering cherry and the steam from your china cup, phantom-like, drifts upward as well. You're dreaming, gone away where I can't follow. Somewhere someone else brings that ghostly smile to your face, makes the corners of your eyes crease as you lift the teacup to sip softly at a memory born before we met, and that gentle happiness is a pang behind my ribs, a longing of my own to be there, where you've gone— then the moment passes. You return to this garden chair, this wrought-iron table, where you set your saucer down with a click and wipe the smile from your lips with a white napkin.
Creation by Gretchen Gales (right)
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WORDS UNVERSED HAVE NO HOME BY ALISON MYERS I envy the writers of fiction whose damages hide under characters, setting: somewhen with the destruction of love rewritten as shipwreck, death's hand metamorphosed into a spaceship or thunderstorm or fingerprints on a low-ball glass. My words wound: truth ripped from frayed linen, a tapestry unraveling, and if I pulled a thread, it would end at your hand. My words washed ashore or left drifting, beloved flotsam sunken to clatter on coral, safe harbor in your arms or nowhere at all, become nothing at all. If I rewrite us, you’d know— the way isn’t lit by stars but damned by man's turning of the earth into something it's not, writing about something we're not, and this fiction falls away to find the heart's only home in the words of a poem.
ABOUT | ALISON MYERS teaches high school English by day and yoga by night. Her work has appeared in Ender’s World, SWWIM Every Day, trampset, The Esthetic Apostle, and great weather for MEDIA’s Suitcase of Chrysanthemums (2018). Although she has studied philosophy and Italian literature, Alison prefers to play adequate acoustic guitar and get kicked out of art museums for staying too late. She currently lives in “Coastal Philadelphia” (New Jersey) with two dogs and an overgrown garden.
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Night Moshi, Tanzania by Andrey Glazkov
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PEACE BY JOSÉ ENRIQUE MEDINA He imagined he was a pair of bare feet, cut at the ankle, caressing each other, enjoying the warmth and touch of one another, no tumult of brain or heart, more balanced than Adam and Eve, desiring the mirror image of each other.
ABOUT | JOSÉ ENRIQUE MEDINA earned his BA in English from Cornell University. He writes poems, short stories, and novels. When he is not writing, he enjoys playing with his baby chicks, bunnies, and piglets on his farm in Whittier, California.
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A THOUGHT BY GAD KYNAR-KISSINGER TRANSLATED BY NATALIE FEINSTAIN When a thought plummets at my feet, bruised, I bandage its wings, which I clipped, until it revisits me in faltering flight. I then shoot it again.
ABOUT | GAD KAYNAR-KISSINGER (70) is a retired associate professor from the theater department at Tel Aviv University. His poetry was published in major Israeli literary periodicals and supplements and compiled in seven books, including a bi-lingual Hebrew-Spanish publication Lo que queda (What Remains). For ADHD he won "The General Israeli Writers' Union" Award (2010). Kaynar is a stage, TV, and film actor, and his translated 70 plays from English, German, Norwegian, and Swedish. For his Ibsen translations he was designated in 2009 by the Norwegian King as “Knight First Class of the Royal Norwegian Order of Merit.”
Over The Lake by Zoe Lea (right)
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// OVER THE LAKE BY ZOE LEA
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// [ 12HANGING ] I S S ULANTERN E 0 5 | BY N O ZOE V E MLEA B E
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EXCHANGE BY ANASTASIA JILL What do we do when we’re not in our heads? Worry about being profound. I suppose instead, we could always conjure a ghost. This wheel of fortune is a real joke. We of all people would know. We are breaking in much, rich in absolute nothing. We had a spirit full of poetry and woe that we traded along with a kidney for a small fortune. We’re worth our weight in heirlooms, in wires, in bolts. Uh-uh, daddyo. We’re not better than any of this.
ABOUT | ANASTASIA JILL (Anna Keeler) is a queer poet and fiction writer living in the southern United States. She is a current editor for the Smaeralit Anthology. Her work has been published or is upcoming with Poets.org, Lunch Ticket, FIVE:2:ONE, Ambit Magazine, apt, Into the Void Magazine, 2River, and more.
Hanging Lantern By Zoe Lea (left)
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Remembering My Roots by Gretchen Gales
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BARLEY FIELD CHILDREN A SONG WRITTEN AND PERFORMED BY LAURA BETH JOHNSON AS SORROW ESTATE My smile drowned in tears but happiness stayed, and my fingers, they stopped, but the guitar still played. O I lost my voice but heard myself say: "My feet stayed put but I ran away.” "My feet stayed put but I ran away.” This body, so strong and young, yet so weak— like barley field children, laugh and weep. Oh the sun shines bright, but the future is bleak My eyes opened, but I fell asleep; my eyes widen, still I cannot see. Mind, you're weak, don't speak. heart, you’re ill, stay still. Polar musician, she hypo-creates, exhausted, but she patiently waits, then quivering pen in trembling quakes, sickened, abandons all that she made, sickened, abandons all that she makes. [ 14 ]
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My mistake, I shake, Heart, you’re ill, stay still. But the stillness is sterile, pure stagnant remorse, machinery humming, don't know what it's for. One iron light switch switched down at the door— the workers left early to join with the poor, the workers all hurried to become the poor. Mind, you're weak, don't speak. Heart, you’re ill, stay still. I’d rather be alone than entertain another one who doesn’t see my sadness, don’t know my madness. Spoken: I used to think I was crazy and special, clothed in halfness like a goddess. My mind, an earthspine of crooked mountain vertebrae: closer to the stars, closer to the core, always both, sometimes more. Then came The Naming, condition-labeling— I'm not special, just sick; not special, just crazy, not a goddess, a gene pool mistake, a fluke. The name stripped me of demigod cloak, mortal now, mortal forever now And those pills— they have these pills and light boxes and herbs, medicines to cure. What I hate most is that it would work. They don't need to know me, just my sickness, cures to bulldoze my mountainside. I'm not special, just crazy. I am all empathy, [ 15 ]
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all selfishness, all compassion, all anger. I am always all. No. Pills through my pelican throat, I am all nothing, all nothing, all nothing, all nothing, I am the biggest nothing I have ever seen. I used to think I was crazy and special, catching children in the barley field. I am just a statue torn naked by wind, watching them fall. I used to think, now I do. I do swallow them. Now I am not crazy or special.
Full performance and accompanying interview available at LadyBluePublishing.com.
ABOUT | LAURA BETH JOHNSON is an award-winning poet and singer-songwriter. In 2017, she was honored with the Lucy Monro Brooker Poetry Award by University of Indianapolis for a spoken word piece titled "Crazy and Special". The poem appears on the song "Barley Field Children" which is included in an album of original music Johnson independently released in May of 2016. Johnson won Eden Café’s “Songwriter” and “Vocalist” categories at their 2017 Songwriter Competition and will be seen this summer at the MOVE Music Festival and Albany's Annual Tulip Festival. Johnson’s poems have been published in Babblings of the Irrational, Etchings Magazine, and The Lanthorn. She holds a Bachelors in Writing from Houghton College. Her music can be heard on iTunes, Amazon, Spotify, and YouTube under the moniker "Sorrow Estate."
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NOVEMBER 2018 | FEATURED ARTIST KELLIE LEHR lives and works in Fayetteville, AR. After receiving her BS in international economics, Lehr lived in Russia and California before returning to Arkansas in 2007. Her work is in numerous private collections, and was recently selected for the 59th Annual Delta Exhibition at the Arkansas Arts Center in Little Rock, AR. She has been in several juried exhibitions and was an award winner at the 2017 Annual SAAC Juried Art Competition in El Dorado, AR. Her work was recently on display at 21c Museum Hotel Bentonville as part of their Elevate program featuring regional artists. Lehr is represented by Boswell Mourot Fine Art Gallery in Little Rock, AR.
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You mentioned that your work in marketing and technology influenced your painting—how does your career feed into your craft?
“I
I worked in technology for many years with companies such as IBM and Microsoft and then began consulting with smaller technology companies. I’m painting almost full-time now, but these experiences do come out in my work; I think about what space looks like on the internet, and I like integrating those ideas with reality and seeing what happens. I’m interested in making an unknown love it when known, in seeing something new and letting something the painting develop within the painting that I don’t recognize.
starts to take the shape of something unexpected.”
We live in a world now that is so tangled with technology—it has become a part of our landscape. One moment I’m looking out the window or taking my dog on a run in the neighborhood, and the next I’m looking at something on my phone, stepping into another reality. It’s complicated and confusing when you stop and think about it. We live in two very different worlds but somehow make sense of it all. How do you prepare when starting a new piece? It differs, but often music is really important to my process. Lately I’ve been listening to electronic music that has no words. The music falls away after a while, but it helps me get into the flow. Sometimes I don’t want music at all if I’m working out new ideas and don’t want to be distracted; it depends on what I’m doing and what I intuitively need at the time. Painting simultaneously allows me to lose myself and also grounds me in what is real. I also meditate, and that has had a big influence on my life and my work. What are the first steps you take when staring at a blank canvas? Ideas are usually swirling around in my head, so I write them down to find clarity. I usually start new paintings with an idea, thought, or feeling, and often these concepts are oppositional. I try to let go and allow the painting to evolve; I love it when the painting starts to take the shape of something unexpected or different than what I originally intended. I then have to let go of the original impetus to some extent and just go back and forth with the painting itself—it’s a kind of intimate dialogue, a call and response. I’m really interested in the unexpected and unplanned moments.
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How and why has your work evolved over the years? I started out imitating work I liked and then progressed to learning more about why I liked those pieces instead; the ideas and thought processes behind them were the things I was attracted to rather than the end result. I went back to school in 2013 to study art formally. The fundamentals are important, and I understand now that you need to know the rules in order to break them.
Sand Screen by Kellie Lehr
I’m now studying critical theory—there’s so much to learn, and I keep finding new concepts I want to explore. I still work directly from life and from observation, but I also give myself the freedom to create from my own imagination, dreams, and memory. I’m interested in defining the unknown and creating something that never existed before. I’m most happy when I look at my work and can’t even tell how I possibly made it. My work is constantly evolving and that’s one of the beautiful things about it to me. I learn from every attempt.
What do you ultimately hope to communicate or inspire through your art? Courage. I believe that despite all the challenges, it’s worthwhile to put yourself out there, to choose hope and persist despite the odds. Do what your heart yearns for, what you think you can’t do. Allow yourself to succeed. I love this quote by Theodore Roosevelt, who touches on this same idea: “It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man (or woman!) stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and [ 19 ]
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Today’s Forecast by Kellie Lehr
blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.�
I also love the idea of shinrin-yoku, a term that means "taking in the forest atmosphere" or "forest bathing" in Japanese (it emerged in the 1980s and has become a cornerstone of preventative healthcare and healing in Japanese medicine), and have begun using it in my work by bringing in tree branches from my walks in the forest. Nature grounds me and makes me feel connected to myself and the world around me—we are all connected, and we are all one. Nature is a healer, and we need it now more than ever. What's the most unique response to your work that you've received? A married couple purchased one of my paintings a while back, and because the painting was selected for a juried show, I personally delivered it to their home after the exhibition. They told me how they both were immediately attracted to the piece, but they each had different reasons. The woman responded to a specific memory it triggered. The man responded to the use of space in the painting and [ 20 ]
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Untitled by Kellie Lehr
the way the forms were broken up (he was also a sculptor). It was a gift to me to have the experience of hearing their reactions and being able to see the piece hung in their home.
How do you advocate for your work? What advice might you give to an artist looking to get themselves out there? I’ve primarily focused on participating in local and regional activities. I signed with a gallery—Boswell Mourot in Little Rock, AR—last year and participated in a program funded by the Mid America Arts Alliance called “Artist, Inc.” These things really helped me, but getting juried into regional exhibitions probably helped the most (although everything works symbiotically). I also try to share what inspires me and what I’m working on in the studio on Instagram (@kellielehr). In addition to regional and local activities and social media, a couple of good resources I can recommend are CaFE and Submittable. CaFE is a great place to find opportunities on both a regional and national level; you can choose what activities you are interested in and get an email with updates. Submittable has an app that makes it easy to keep track of multiple submissions in one spot. Meeting other working artists and having a connection to the community has really helped me. I try to keep other artists in mind when I hear about new opportunities and refer them whenever its appropriate. It’s really important to give back and pass it forward.
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Studio View by Kellie Lehr [ 22 ]
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CARNIVAL OF THE ANIMALS BY ALISON MYERS My parents brought them from “home,” stuffed into clear garbage bags (best for exhuming the innocent past of pink bedroom walls yellow shag carpet— colors to conjure a swatch of stomach virus, puking infant, or muted disco vision of a teenager after a fifth of coconut rum); noses pressed to the plastic, sniffing for a familiar scent and searching for the person my mother thinks I still am. They parade and swirl in plastic prison, and songs were my wishes, to be merely pretty: the swan, graceful and stretching its white virginal length, but not the giraffe, equally lithe but too tall for boys’ fantasies, or the button-eyed tiger, declawed and forgotten. They suffocate, holocaust in waiting, bagged like the trash at the vet— mausoleum transparent instead of industrial brown-black, unbeloved and still. Would I be more frightened at a sudden cloud of breath? But all eyes shine flat and plastic; paws maul only polyester pelts. What can an adult do with these? I carry the bags to the basement, bury them next to boxes for holidays, behind the wine rack. They turn to fossils, imprints of wishes upon me. Instead, I take two bottles upstairs to drink alone, in my home, a symphony of clinking glass. [ 23 ]
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From The Series The Invisible by Jennifer Evana (all)
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SOMEDAY I’LL LOVE TOMMY SANDERS BY THOMAS SANDERS After Ocean Vuong You are merely the speckled shells of others’ skeletons suspended inside you. Someone once told you that, or did they tell you you are more? Yes, it was more, and you are breaking bones like bastions now, filled with marrow of past lovers and mothers and imaginary friends. Remember, that skin you wear is only as tight as the stitches you give it. The clothespins you assign to each extremity may only pull as much as you let. So let, and let and let until each pinch a pink puncture to fall out from. Only hold on and do not fall, for they are not waterfalls and you are not water, no— you are Tommy, and that is something. You will not flow from the windows of this bloody room, that is a privilege reserved for others who have died. But you have not died, you are merely sleeping. And someday you may wake up and find these windows are no longer shuttered shut and finally gaze upon yourself.
Rainy Day Pavement, Lower Knob Hill, San Francisco by William C. Crawford (right)
ABOUT | THOMAS SANDERS is a 21-year-old undergraduate at the College of Charleston in Charleston, SC. He is studying English with a concentration in Literary Criticism and shares a strong passion for creative writing.
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HUMMINGBIRD BY ALISHA WALDROP I stare at the feeder in her backyard: flowered plastic filled with simple sugar water. The ruby-throated bird, an ancient Mayan legend— Sun in disguise doggedly trying to court the moon— whirrs above it, sips its imitation nectar with Red Dye No. 40. Inside the house my grandmother sings Luther Vandross, nudges a vacuum through the tight space under the coffee table. She smiles sometimes, then looks out the pane as if waiting for something bad to happen. The man who made her worry, long gone now. Gone for so long now. How beautiful he must have seemed, though, before all that. Fire red and Devil’s Ivy green, refracting someone else’s light long enough to trick the moon.
ABOUT | ALISHA WALDROP is a secondary English teacher and writer in Charleston, SC. She is currently in the MFA program at Queens University of Charlotte and serves on the QU Literary Magazine as an editorial assistant for fiction and poetry. She lives with her fiancée Morgan and their two dogs Jax and Pongo.
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SOMETHING (HIDDEN AND) BLUE (ABIDES) BY ALISON MYERS Mining my underwear drawer for forgotten costume jewelry, the grey velvet clamshell of a box, no bigger than a child's palm, emerges as I brush away the thongs I never wear. Unopened since it served as something blue, Bonnema’s aquamarine rests in darkness. The hinge cracks, the creak of 50 years in the jewelry business, and the inside still smells like her: white and coral sweaters, stripes only flattering on grandmas and little girls. Restored from wedding starvation I let it slip onto my middle finger, a perfect fit. Sometimes the past doesn't wreck us, but holds a splint to our halved selves, builds the shell to protect or for Venus to ride. I put it back. The loss would be too great if it fell down the drain, or was left on the sink at work, clattered to the bottom of a gym locker. It trumpets protection at home, hidden, ensconced in the everyday safe nude briefs, its power shielded from healing everyone else, too— I save its cerulean aegis for myself.
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ARTISTS & PHOTOGRAPHERS TYLER MEREDITH earned his MA in creative writing while at California State University, Sacramento. He is the recipient of the Bazzanella Literary Award for Creative Non Fiction at the Graduate Level. His work has appeared in Calaveras Station and Sacramento Poetry Center’s Poetry Now. ANDREY GLAZKOV is a Russian-American photographer based in Los Angeles, California.
ZOE LEA is a novelist and photographer living in the Lake District, UK.
WILLIAM C. CRAWFORD is a writer and photographer living in Winston-Salem, NC. He was a combat photojournalist in Vietnam. He later enjoyed a long career in social work. Crawford also taught at UNC Chapel Hill.
JEN EVANS is a tech entrepreneur, poverty activist and photography artist. She lives in Toronto and specializes in flower and creative photography using layered lights and multiple exposure.
GRETCHEN GALES is a writer, visual artist, and the managing editor of Quail Bell Magazine. Her art has or will appear in cream city review, Memoryhouse, Moonchild, Bad Pony, and more.
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