NOUS 5 - The Panic Issue by NOUS

FOR MODERN MINDCULTURE AND EMPATHIC THINKING

NOUS MAGAZINE FIVE

The Panic Issue hysteria, imagination and escape

spring 2015 £8

team

trident

press

Editorial & Art Direction Lisa Lorenz Proofreading George Odysseos Words Angus Stewart about.me/angoos August Priebe augustpriebe.de.vu Cathy Bryant cathybryant.co.uk Delyth Telford delyth22.tumblr.com Emily Godden auditchaos.blogspot.co.uk G. Evelyn Lampart gelamp@gmail.com Gary Beck garycbeck.com Hal O'Leary oleary37@comcast.net Jake Duff jakeduff1991@hotmail.com John Gosslee johngosslee.com Karl Astbury @Poet_is_Priest Lizz Brady brokengreywires.com Lynn Hoffmann radiationdays.com Mitchell Grabois facebook.com/mitch.grabois Richard King Perkins II roguesatellite@yahoo.com Stephanee Walker stephaneewalker.com Stephen James folknwords.tumblr.com Viltautė Krupickaitė about.me/v.krupickaite Illustration Alessandra Genualdo alessandragenualdo.com Danijel Cecelja danijelcecelja.com Eglė Gudonytė eggl.weebly.com Jimmy Slater Say »Hello« at Koffee Pot Kati Szilagyi katiszi.com Sonny Ross sonnyross.com Ezra Zubairu cultivatefilmart.blogspot.co.uk

Photography

Watch

Broth Tarn brothtarn.tumblr.com Chris Bethell christopherbethell.com Delaney Allen delaneyallen.com Gwen Osmond ladansedegwendolen.tumblr.com Martina Hoogland Ivanow martinahooglandivanow.com Primoz Zorko www.primozzorko.com Rebecca Bibby rbibbyphotography.co.uk Sara Hini sarahini.com Stéphanie Vivier stephanievivier.org

La Haine (1995) Mathieu Kassovitz Dog Day Afternoon (1975) Sydney Lumet Funny Games (1997) Michael Haneke Audition (1999) Takashi Miike Elephant (1989) Alan Clarke

Painting

Mangal Raghunath Joshi

Sound paint lesson no.3, by spuzz: Graham Wann, Jordy Alex, Ash Davies, and Ashley Van Dyck Listen Feine Sahne Fischfilet Wut The Smiths Panic POST New Built Fears Love Kult Country Hanging Crown Kyōgen Deeper Understanding Mutter Wer hat schon Lust so zu leben? Ben Khan Youth BC Camplight Atom Bomb Time Zone World Destruction MOTHER My Lies Scott Walker Hero Of The War Read The Bell Jar Sylvia Plath The Tin Drum Günter Grass The Visit Friedrich Dürrenmatt The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Douglas Adams

compiled by Ezra Zubairu cultivatefilmart.blogspot.co.uk Typefaces Arek Khajag Apelian

Paper Steinweis 80g/m² Cyclus 200g/m² 100% recycled paper Marc the Printers marctheprinters.co.uk Publisher NOUS 5 - The Panic Issue is published as Element #004 by People of Print (In Perpetuum) London, UK. Printed on a Riso in flat gold, fluorescent pink, and black in Manchester, U.K., May 2015. teamtridentpress.com Contact & Info NOUS magazine Ltd Studio 404, Islington Mill M3 5HW, Salford hej@nous-magazine.de www.nous-magazine.de © All rights remain with the authors. No parts may be reproduced or copied without the written consent of NOUS. Danke. Edition

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N O US M AG A ZI N E 路 PA N I C

But don't the days run by your window so fast, a n d d o n ' t y o u k n o w, nothing round here ever lasts.

GRAHAM M. WANN

New Built Fears Love by POST

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Cover

Eglė Gudonytė

Imprint

Editorial

Inner Cover

Chapter Links

Poster

Cards

spuzz

Rebecca Bibby

Ezra Zubairu

Stéphanie Vivier

One Hy s t e r i a CHAOS, RULES, AND DECONSTRUCTION

Boyz

Back From Combat

Broth Tarn

Mitchell Grabois

Tumultuous

The Shooter

Turbulence

Lynn Hoffmann

Delyth Telford 42 20

To the Right

Sting Operation

Chris Bethell

G. Evelyn Lampart Gwen Osmond

54 Progressive Engineering

Gary Beck

Insane Society

Martina Hoogland Ivanow

Hal O'Leary Jimmy Slater Content

64 Bear with Me a Minute Viltautė Krupickaitė

Tw o Imagination TRAUMA, DREAM, AND ILLUSION

71 9780141183794

Three Escape RESOLUTION, PROGRESS, AND HOPE

Emily Godden 107

148

Meret Becker

A Necessary Calm

Whilst the Monarch

August Priebe

Richard King Perkins II

Butterfly Passes Over

Karl Astbury

Danijel Cecelja 110 82

Lunch in the

150

Hour Of The Wolves

New Century

Bangkok Panic

John Gosslee

Valentine

Delaney Allen

Angus Stewart

118

152

Panic on the Streets

Needle Side Kidz

of Manchester

Broth Tarn

John Aylesworth 84 Destructive Interference Lorraine Berry Kati Szilagyi 92 Bear Heel Stephen James Sonny Ross 96 Illusions of Control Stephanee Walker Sara Hini

Lizz Brady 128 You Are Invited Cathy Bryant Alessandra Genualdo 137 Fruit Bowl Jake Duff Primoz Zorko

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N O US M AG A ZI N E 路 PA N I C

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Dear Reader, A FOREWORD BY THE EDITOR

Panic can be an uncomfortable feeling in your guts. It can rise up from unexpected depths, and it will go from nought to sixty if we let it.

This year started with blind panic, politically and socially, and we can only wonder how these different sorts of extreme fear and hysteria are created.

Many things make us panic: a telephone bill you cannot pay; choosing between skinny, fullfat, or soya; collapsing buildings in Kathmandu; Salafist terrorists threatening bike races; German passenger plane pilots commiting suicide; ripped shoe laces; a stain on your job interview shirt; xenophobia; the foreigners; being alone; being together with someone; being a bad influence; being forgotten; ebola; cancer; sex; love; having no words.

Can we link those feelings to the increased mental difficutlies many experience? What can we learn, and how can we understand the world around us from recent and historical observations? In the first part of this issue we will look at the post-financal-crash world we live in, a society of war, and the scary mechanisms of our health services.

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

In part two, we will take a step inside. A comical yet serious intercourse with Meret Becker is followed up by the journey of a woman to the darkest depths of a forest in the search for comfort, but finding brutality. In its final part the Panic Issue will show off ways of healing, the possibility of escape, making peace, and forgiving.

I hope you will enjoy your read. If this was not enough, I am sure the reading list and filmography we put together for you will last till the next issue - coming out in November 2015. Welcome to the fifth NOUS and remember: »Don't Panic!« Lisa 0

We are most proud of having an even fatter mag with ever more and ever newer contributors. A big thank you to everyone who stayed by our side loyally from issue one till today.

Editorial

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CHAOS, RULES, AND DECONSTRUCTION

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One Hysteria TUMULTUOUS TURBULENCE STING OPERATION INSANE SOCIETY

BACK FROM COMBAT THE SHOOTER

TO THE RIGHT

PROGRESSIVE ENGINEERING BEAR WITH ME A MINUTE

Tumultuous Turbulence Delyth Telford

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N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

Tumultuous turbulence Writhing in the veins Beyond sense Utter strains Beyond reason or rhyme A strange paradigm Utterly frantic Beyond pedantic Grasping at what need be Though you cannot see All that could And all that should Falling end over end With a message to send Sometimes pays dividend Sometimes a downward trend.

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ÂťIn law enforcement, sting operation is a deceptive operation designed to catch a person committing a crime. A typical sting will have a law- enforcement off icer or cooperative member of the public play a role as cr iminal partner or potential victim and go along with a suspect's actions to gather evidence of the suspect's wrongdoing.ÂŤ

One - Hysteria

Sting Operation

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Sting Operation WORDS G. EVELYN LAMPART

PHOTOGRAPHY GWEN OSMOND

It was a cover-up. A front.

They were on their way.

Always had been. »Use your sirens!« I said, and The accountants in the second floor

told them to have a good day.

office, together with the lawyers and the real estate agents, were all

I wasn’t going down without a

criminals, and in cahoots with my

fight. Without declaring that I knew

mother. They were going to bust me.

who was to blame for calling my

I knew they were being watched by

mother. And they weren’t going to

the cops since I told them they were

get away with making me crazy. I

plotting against me. I had called the

would let it be known far and wide.

precinct. They recognized my voice

With bristling energy I pressed TALK

immediately. And they promised

on my intercom and shouted to the

that they would come and check it

street down below, the main avenue:

out right away. It would be a sting operation. That would show the guys in the office who was boss.

»It’s a Sting Operation. Downstairs. Farber & Garfield.«

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

The people walking by would hear

When I stood outside Max’s door

and spread the word. And I did it

the night before, I rang the bell on

again. I pressed and screamed:

his intercom, and all of his neighbors’ bells as well. No one rang me in. But

»It’s a Sting Operation. I am warning you. Watch out.«

that was okay. I was giving them a warning sign. They would know. Max always knew where I was. He

They were my neighbors, after

wouldn’t break the mirror and race

all. They should know what was

down three flights of stairs and let

coming their way. And I did it again,

me come in. Max couldn’t. There

louder and louder each time:

would be no morning after if he did. I pressed his bell again anyway — a

»Sting, Sting, STING!«

code — to let him know they were getting close to locking me up. Again. A card had been left under my door from the

I needed more coffee. Nothing but grounds in the percolator. I boiled water. A smidgen of milk in a container in the fridge was a surprise. It would

Mobile Crisis Emergency Unit

take too long to brew. I ran back to the intercom. The job had to be done right.

the day before. Not good.

Whatever a sting operation was, and I wasn’t sure, I had hit the jackpot. My voices were never wrong. Winner

A psychiatrist and a social worker had come to my door. They were going

tell-all. Losers keep quiet down

to return. My apartment was no

below. I wasn’t going to be quiet.

longer safe. I left my apartment then

Not anymore.

at night. No hesitations. If I had my

One - Hysteria

Sting Operation

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beige belted raincoat from high school, I would have gone to see Max long ago. Years ago. Beige and belted I could have made my exit from Brooklyn and entrance to Greenwich Village classic. Never too late, I heard clearly. The voices knew all. They knew that I didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t even have my black turtle neck. High School. College. My mother was crazier then. No one knew. No one saw the deep red scratches on my neck. Not even my mother. Now they would know. I was making sure. The headlines would be catastrophic:

STING OPERATION BUST IN PARK SLOPE And the cops made it. They showed up as promised. With Protective Services. And my mother. My mother would have to leave. Dreadful. She would stuff the medicine down my throat with raw eggs and mashed rotten bananas.

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

The caseworker had black hair dyed

The lime green and pale pink

darker than a bat’s wings, black nail

and dusty blue nightgowns my

polish, and a black studded leather

mother bought for my birthday.

wrist bracelet on her chalky white wrist. She wasn’t dressed right for the job. She was not going to come in. I was dressed appropriately for

All I had wanted was a card.

visitors. A brown and green sweater. Cable stitches. And brown velour pants. A find. T J Maxx. My marathon

»Yeah. I could hang out here.«

shopping sprees always paid off. The cops were getting comfortable. »Step away from the intercom,« I was ordered.

»Nice view. And quiet.« Young and American men

»Look at me. And look at her!«

could see that I had it together and knew what to do.

The cops looked at me. Good. They were cute.

»I have a sandwich. In the fridge. Half a sandwich… You can have it.«

»Sorry there is no coffee left.« I faced them all. They were »Nice place.« And the officers sat

friendly. They hadn’t handcuffed

down on the couch, new, and on the

me. Or run into my bedroom to

coffee table, also new. The apartment

see if I was hiding anyone.

was clean. No clutter anymore. Trashed. Every artifact of my last ten years were dashed out the bathrooom window,

»We’ll let him know. Tell him. It’s quiet up here. Nice.«

and down the four flights of stairs.

One - Hysteria

Sting Operation

I knew they meant Max. I went

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»Rules ‘n regs. No exceptions.«

with them willingly. They promised me that my mother wouldn’t ride

I knew what the next scene was

in the ambulance with me, and

going to be. I had performed it many

they sent the caseworker back

times before. I let myself go limp, and

into the field to her next case.

offered no resistance as the straps were adjusted around my waist. I

»I’ll be back.« I announced to a crowd of strangers

asked EMS to turn on the siren. »Let’s get this over with.«

gathered outside my building, and to Jeffrey from across the street. He was shooting pictures

»Can’t do that unless it’s a heart attack.«

of the cops, the ambulance. I wanted to point to my heart and A scene, with me as the star. In the

show them, but my hands were bound

ambulance I sat freely with the EMS

tight around my middle. If this isn’t

worker. No straps this time. No sirens

a heart attack, I thought, this is a big

to race me back to the hospital. EMS

mistake. Maybe it wasn’t too late

was a young woman, blonde pony tail,

for me to remain silent, and pretend

long red nails, and gum cracking.

that I wasn’t the person who had made that phone call to the police.

»If my boyfriend wrote plays about

I was about to play an old role

me, I wouldn’t be depressed,« speaking

when we got to the hospital, the

to her partner she looked at me. How

part that had made me a star.

could she know that Max wrote plays. »When do I get fed?« »How do you know?« I wanted to hear myself say EMS winked at her partner, and told

something; anything, loud and clear.

me that she was going to have to buckle me in. For my own good. She didn’t want to. But it was standard policy.

»I’m hungry.«

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

The partners assigned to watch over me turned their backs as the ambulance wound through the streets of Brooklyn, over the Verrazano Bridge, and into the fifth and forgotten borough of Staten Island. »Are we there yet?« I wanted to know. »Are we there yet?« I repeated. »Are we?« EMS wasn’t paying attention. She was busy writing in her black leather log book and the ambulance came to a sudden stop in front of a stone barrack like building. The show was over. 0

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Sting Operation

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N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

the arch of hysteria

a physical release of psychological suffer ing as described by the nineteenth-century neurologist Jean Martin Charcot (18251893). Working at the Salpêtrière Hospital in Par is, Charcot sought to represent hyster ia by documenting the performances of his female patients. T he physical tension of the hyster ical arch - an intense muscular contraction, resulting in immobility and paralysis of the limbs - is emblematic of an equally extreme emotional state. Osmond explores discrimination based o n g e n d e r, c h a l l e n g i n g the misconception of hyster ia as a female malady.

One - Hysteria

Sting Operation

One - Hysteria Insane Society

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N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

WORDS HAL O'LEARY

VISUALS JIMMY SLATER

T hougths on the definition of insanity in Wester n culture, the dissolution of gender values, and the r idicule of law.

Insane Society I would refer you to a full

3a : extreme folly or unreasonableness

definition of insanity as stated by Merriam Webster.

3b : something utterly foolish or unreasonable

Full Definition of »Insanity« I would then ask you whether or not 1: a deranged state of the mind usually occurring as a specific

it is possible for a body politic to fall victim to insanity given this definition.

disorder (as schizophrenia) Has the body politic in America gone 2: such unsoundness of mind or lack

mad? With almost half of the public

of understanding as prevents one from

in agreement that every citizen should

having the mental capacity required by

carry arms for protection from the

law to enter into a particular relationship,

murder of each other, and now, many

status, or transaction or as removes one

of the formerly sensitive, sensible

from criminal or civil responsibility

and better half of our society are demanding the right to don uniforms with their male counterparts.

Even they would pick up

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that a nation-wide review of the very

automatic weapons to exercise

principles and morality, upon which

their constitutional right to

this country was founded, is needed to

murder men, women and children

restore at least some measure of sanity.

around the world. What other than madness could explain such

Now, lest you call me out on the

behavior, since each are acts of

constant use of the word ÂťmurderÂŤ

murder in every sense of the word.

please hear me out. The following is a justifiable description of murder and its

Have we become an insane society?

consequences as found in Wikipedia. Murder is the unlawful killing, with malice aforethought, of another person, and

I would maintain that we have

generally this state of mind distinguishes

become addicted to murder. The very

murder from other forms of unlawful

obvious fact that our own government

homicide (such as manslaughter).

can, not only with immunity, but with public approval, murder, not

As the loss of a human being inflicts

only suspected foreign enemies and

enormous grief upon the individuals

agents but its own citizens without

close to the victim, and the commission

indictment or trial, suggests that

of a murder is highly detrimental to

violence has become the accepted

the good order within society, most

means of resolving disputes, and a

societies both present and in antiquity

way of life. That the better half of our

have considered it a most serious crime

society, which has, heretofore, managed

worthy of the harshest of punishment.

to maintain a respectable sanity, seems desirous of the opportunity

In most countries, a person

to, not only condone, but to commit

convicted of murder is typically

murder in their own right, suggests

given a long prison sentence â&#x20AC;&#x201D;

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

possibly a life sentence where permitted, and in some countries, the death penalty

4. Intent to commit a dangerous felony.

may be imposed for such an act — though this practice is becoming less common.

These two crimes in particular represent reprehensible infringements

In most countries, there is no statute

on the rights of another.

of limitations for murder (no time limit for prosecuting someone for murder).

And, grievous though they be, I contend that the murders carried

A person who commits murder is

out by our military by far exceed

called a murderer. In this regard, I

the noxious consequences of even

imagine you would agree that the

those heinous acts. Entire families

first two examples cited adequately fit

are murdered indiscriminately.

this description of murder. There was malice aforethought which constitutes

Here, you may righteously scream that our brave soldiers are defending our

The following states of mind:

freedom and therefore the killing of the

1. Intent to kill

which distinguishes murder from

enemy cannot be construed as murder. It is what is termed »Unlawful«, killings that are done within the

2. Intent to inflict grievous bodily harm short of death.

boundaries of law, such as execution, self-defense or the killing of enemy soldiers during a war, which in this

3. Reckless indifference to an unjustifiably high risk to human life.

case, grants immunity to the military. It all sounds so legal and above board.

One - Hysteria Insane Society

BUT, what if the so-called war was

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Does this not make the bombing

itself illegal. What if the freedoms

and invasion of Afghanistan

our brave soldiers are supposedly

illegal, particularly since most

defending are in graver danger of

all of the supposed hijackers

being eroded here at home than

were from Saudi Arabia.

they are from enemies we have created abroad? We have suspended habeas corpus and privacy rights.

Does the bombing and invasion of Iraq for supposed possession of WMD which were never found

American citizens can now be assassinated

make that entire operation illegal? Neither Afghanistan or Iraq represented any threat whatever

by order of the President, or

to the United States.

detained indefinitely without even a hearing. Does that not effectively kill »defense of freedom« as our ostensible reason initiating war?

We have justified both of these atrocities under the dubious label of the

»War on Terror«

Initially Afghanistan was bombed and invaded, so we were told, because the Taliban refused to hand over Bin Laden, the supposed mastermind

which is as ridiculously designed and deceitful as the »War On Drugs«. My friends, we must understand

behind 9/11. Actually, the Taliban did

that all of these inexcusable offenses

offer to surrender him to a neutral

are not just violations of our own

country upon presentation of evidence

laws and treaties, but they are

that he was indeed responsible.

international crimes against humanity. In that respect, the killing that

This evidence was never presented.

results must be considered murder.

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

While it is acknowledged that

With even American women now

an exclusion to murder is »The

clamoring for the right to kill even

killing of enemy combatants by

though it be acknowledged as murder,

lawful combatants,« it carries with

I find myself at a loss to explain why.

it the addendum, »In accordance with lawful orders in war.«

Then, when you consider that the only reason for the murders is so

The Military Code requires obedience

that a certain 1% of elite bankers, entrepreneurs and manufacturers can increase their obscene wealth at the expense and sacrifice of those

only to lawful orders. Therefore, if

who remain oblivious to the truth.

the instigation of the action is itself illegal, the orders and their execution

What else but an insane society?

must also be considered illegal and a

capital crime. In both cases, since the attacks by us were premeditated and preemptive with no evidence of even a threat, the attack on Afghanistan having been planned prior to 9/11, there can be no plea of self-defense.

Of course there is always the possibility of a plea of insanity

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Back from Combat WORDS MITCHELL GRABOIS

A tale of the retur n of a post-war romantic to a land of austerity and old memories.

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

The arteries of peacetime were those

The arteries of wartime were

of a child, who lay on his back on

clogged. He needed to get out, but his

lawns and in meadows and watched

term in Hell had not yet expired.

clouds move across the sky. He found mythical creatures there (like those

It wasn’t the Vietnam era—he wasn’t

in the worn hardcover his grandfather

running off to Sweden or Canada or

had given him shortly before he died)

wherever. He drove his truck into a

and described them in his notebook,

group of terrorists who were firing at

which was tear-stained because:

him with Kalashnikovs. He ducked down low under the dashboard and

»Why did Grandpa have to go?«

heard their bones crunch under the oversize, knobby tires of his fifteenthousand-pound Deuce-and-a-Half. He was grim, delivering death.

The boy had not yet comprehended Death, but he would when he followed his Grandpa into the Marines, a

I'm back from combat.

foolhardy way to express his love and pride, he understood later. A

A sundial marks off the minutes

wave of youthful enthusiasm had

before the bank takes my home. The

swept him into the recruiter’s office.

Happiness of Loving My Brunette has

Later his enthusiasm waned.

been eclipsed by the misfortunes my brunette and I have experienced.

It became harder, then impossible, to see mythological creatures

Miro went to bed without any

in the clouds. Instead he saw

supper and saw shapes on the ceiling.

armaments, and body parts that

Those shapes became his paintings.

had been blown off his comrades.

One - Hysteria

Back from Combat

My brunette and I look in the front

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It never had a mortgage.

window of the house we worked hard to acquire and now have lost. We spend some timeless time surveying Still Life With Old Shoe.

»I will assassinate painting.«

In a hidden closet in the barn I discover a fifty pound bag labeled

Arsenic and DDT I remember: Grandpa used it in the orchard. I gingerly open the bag and examine the powder. I feel

»I will break Picasso’s guitar. I

its latent power, its deadliness.

kick in the front door. I remember once fixing the hinges.«

Our family members are hoarders. We’re cursed by too many generation

Man and Woman in Front of a Pile of Excrement.

in the same place, seven in this farmhouse. All the »cherished family heirlooms« — they’re like tenants

»You didn’t have to do that,«

who don’t pay rent and lay around

I tell my brunette

all day drinking beer, but for some

»I wanted to.«

legal reason you can’t evict them.

»Now we’re a caricature, as portrayed in news features.«

When I’m dead and rotting, all

»I don’t give a shit.«

this stuff will still be here, haughty

»You just did.«

in longevity. I fantasize a tornado coming and carrying it all away.

We dissolve in hysterical laughter and fall into each other’s

Three out of four bedrooms

embrace. Three days later, we’ve

is warehouse, so I sleep on the

retreated to the old family farm.

couch in the living room.

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

My sister Cheryl shares a room

I admit that I fantasize about Cheryl

with our mother, who is really sick.

and my mother getting spun out into

She’s a Christian Scientist so she

space by a tornado, never to return,

won’t see a doctor. She lives in a

never to be found, the house blown

Nyquil haze eighty percent of the

apart, all the junk blown away.

time. The other twenty percent — don’t ask. Cheryl has something wrong with her too, in the head.

At the end of everything, I’m sitting dazed on the lawn, wind-beaten but happy, with no obligations and

If I had to sleep in the same room with that old bat, year after year,

no possessions whatsoever, not even a fucking toothbrush. 0

my head would be twisted too. My brunette doesn’t get along with Cheryl — who can blame her? Our mother snores so loud I think that maybe

a tornado has finally come A fifty pound bag of Arsenic and DDT. I don’t tell anyone about it. It’s my secret weapon of mass destruction.

One - Hysteria

Back from Combat

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The Shooter WORDS LYNN HOFFMANN

Head full of hornets, eyes blinking in code, cold and heat waving through his arms lips molding inquiet words hate like a baby in his belly waiting to be borne on the air, your air, your heirâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s air everywhere air.

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

Shall we give him a gun? Huh? No, too narrow a screen for this shattering touch. Let’s give him bombs and planes poisoned candies and viral aerosol sprays that prey on you, me, her. Let’s give him the strings and feel what monstrous jerks emerge.

One - Hysteria The Shooter

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England ha s nâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t bee n kind to its working class over the past decade. T he recession plunged its capital into a housing crisis, evicting people from their homes just to replace them with luxury f lats.

To t h e R i g h t WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPHY CHRIS BETHELL

One - Hysteria To the Right

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

Auster ity measures meant

But where does this leave

that thousands were made

England’s lowest earners?

redundant, with not many

It’s hard to communicate the

new jobs being created.

intr icacies of economics, but it’s easy to find a scapegoat.

Most people no longer identif y with being a patriotic English man.

The English Defence League is a movement bor n out of a lack of understanding, a loss of control and therefore, panic.

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One - Hysteria To the Right

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One - Hysteria To the Right

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Progressive Engineering WORDS GARY BECK

When cities became large enough that you didn't know everyone and needed transportation from one place to another, horses, sedan chairs on hard dirt streets in winter, muck and mire in summer, because central authority didn't repair roads. An early bureaucrat got rich maintaining the streets and charging for the service.

N O US M AG A ZI N E 路 PA N I C

As cities became larger they needed a constant supply of food, fuel, building materials, anything else citizens required they couldn't provide themselves. Carriages and wagons were needed to deliver goods, transact business, mandating road improvement and continuing attention to keep the wheels of commerce turning.

More and more people left the land moving to cities for an easier life than tilling fickle fields that broke the back, then the spirit.

One - Hysteria

Progressive Engineering

0 57

So cities grew bigger, faster, the daily pace accelerated,

The vulnerable in urbana

daily needs became enormous,

only kept provisions

as residents discovered

that could nourish the people

their dependency on the land,

for only a few days,

distant manufacturing

except for the wealthy

to sustain a huge population

with extensive resources,

that no longer hunted/gathered,

possibly enough security

nor grew their own food.

to survive public rioting when food became scarce. . Vast industries emerged and sold to those who could buy, the government taking the rest, at least surplus foodstuff for the poor and needy, until manufacturing became too costly for capitalist owners, who built factories abroad where cheap labor meant more profit.

N O US M AG A ZI N E 路 PA N I C

Making things at home dwindled and we became more dependent

And madness possessed many

on foreign manufacturing,

armed with automatic pistols,

low-cost imports,

an urban staple, along with drugs,

until some of us recognized that daily existence relied

And they used modern transportation,

on the kindness of strangers,

car, bus, subway, train, plane,

as long as they profited.

to make surprise visits to targeted recipients

This startling revelation

and deliver fatal shots.

extended urban angst already traumatizing

Facilitated by technology

many of our citizens,

that released stored up anger,

since it was beyond

mindless, murderous sprees

our resources

ended in self-destruction,

to assist them, heal them.

part of the march of civilization in societies grown so vast they can no longer control deviate behavior.

One - Hysteria

Progressive Engineering

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N O US M AG A ZI N E 路 PA N I C

Far Too Close

Martina Hoogland Ivanow

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N O US M AG A ZI N E 路 PA N I C

Far Too C lose is a visual meditat ion on distance, both physical and emotional, of closeness to a subject and remoteness from a place. Martina inter weaves family portraits and interiors of home with landscapes of some of the most remote and far f lung locations at the very ends of the Earth. Over seven years she travelled to Siberia, Sakhalin Island north of Japan, Tierra del Fuego on the southern tip of Argentina, and the Kola Peninsula in Russian Lapland. Each of these places has its own dark history and has been the focus of dispute and discontent. Combined with photographs of her own community, a literary tale emerges which shifts f rom disturbing to familiar connecting history and emotion from afar and nearby.

Co-published in February 2011 with SteidlMack Books, London

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N O US M AG A ZI N E 路 PA N I C

Far Too Close

Martina Hoogland Ivanow

0 65

Bear with Me a Minute WORDS VILTAUTE KRUPICKAITE

Now I'm inscribed with something tantalizing, The more I try to decipher this, The more I must consider others. But my words haven't been ringing true since I was born. I have been following a set pattern. I'm dallying like heretofore. Please, link up with me.

Please, steal my presence of mind,

I'll have a presence,

Believe me, it's not a quarry,

Your presence is required.

Just a complexity of singularity. I'm not having a clue Just giving prominence to myself, While something collosal Is unambiguously flourishing inside all around.

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

Dabar aš sužeista Kažkuo labai kankinamu, Kuo labiau stengiuosi iššifruoti tai, Tuo labiau turiu rūpintis kitais. Bet mano žodžiai neskelbė tiesos nuo gimimo. Aš einu nutiestu keliu. Aš svajoju kaip ir ankščiau. Prašau prisijunk prie manęs, Aš būsiu graži, Tavo dalyvavimas būtinas. Prašau, pavok mano proto blaivumą, Tikėk manimi, tai ne laimikis. Tik painiava vienatvės. Aš nieko nežinau tikrai, Tik sureikšminu save, Kai kažkas didingo Nedviprasmiškai veši Viduje visur aplink.

One - Hysteria

Pasidalink su manimi minute

0 67

N O US M AG A ZI N E 路 PA N I C

TRAUMA, DREAM, AND ILLUSION

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N O US M AG A ZI N E 路 PA N I C

Two Imagination NINESEVENEIGHTZEROONEFOURONE ONEEIGHTTHREESEVENNINEFOUR MERET BECKER

HOUR OF THE WOLVES

DESTRUCTIVE INTERFERENCE BEAR HEEL

ILLUSIONS OF CONTROL

9780141183794 Emily Godden

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For reasons both external and internal The justification goes far beyond prevention. There is something in the psychological Situation that encourages hostility. A certain amount of these impulses Returns to original choices and conditions. The equivalent phenomenon and obsessive Illness maintained unconquerable anxiety A capacity to exploit forbidden fears. The reason given for this last restriction Seems an obvious contradiction â&#x20AC;&#x201C; We do not have sufficient space. Our interest does not require us, The situation is rendered more difficult That is fine to the excess of anxious concern Of a vocabulary constantly being changed. How are we to explain the beginning? Connected to a motor impulse opinions change In various obscure premonitions. The bond of unity is conceived, regarded A stranger even, everyone was interrogated Freed from the need to trace ourselves I speak of a disillusion everyone will know. Mourning a profoundly painful performance The disorder of self-esteem is absent, I was Initially startled and collapsed â&#x20AC;&#x201C; overwhelmed.

0 75

Excerpt of August Pr iebe's

Meret Becker

autobiographical Aga Saga »Pythagoras tanzt«. A story about delir ium, dream and blur red lines.

WORDS AUGUST PRIEBE

ILLUSTRATION DANIJEL CECELJA

Während einer seelischen Krise, ausgelöst durch eine unerwiderte Liebe, entwickelten sich immer

During an emotional crisis, triggered by rejected love, I developed severe back pain.

stärker werdende Rückenschmerzen. My decision to move from Cologne Da ich auch beschlossen hatte mit

to Berlin to continue my studies

dem Studium von Köln nach Berlin

added extra stress. The move was

zu ziehen kam eine weitere große

accompanied by organisational

Anspannung hinzu. Der Umzug war

problems and concerns about the

von organisatorischen Schwierigkeiten

future of my social life in Berlin.

und Ängsten bezüglich meiner

When I finally got to moving, the

sozialen Zukunft in Berlin begleitet. Als ich schließlich umzog waren

pain had become so bad I wasn't able to do anything without taking

die Schmerzen bereits so groß dass

painkillers. Luckily, a close friend

Aktivitäten ohne Schmerzmittel

of mine, with whom I had studied

nicht mehr möglich schienen.

music in Cologne, could help out.

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

Während des Umzuges half

He had recently decided to drop

mir ein Musikerkollege, dem ich his dream subject of music science während meiner Zeit in Köln sehr in favour of the lucrative study of verbunden war. Er hatte zu dieser Zeit medicine. He chose geriatric psychiatry beschlossen sein Wunschstudium, die - well, I guess he won’t have any Musikwissenschaft, aufzugeben und problems getting enough patients. His sich dem Brotstudium der Medizin father was a doctor too. A famously zugewandt. Auch beim Spezialgebiet war er sehr realitätsbezogen: Er wählte die

pre-eminent spine

Er war sehr realitätsbezogen.

Gerontopsychiatrie

specialist. That’s why my friend had been well acquainted with the topic since childhood.

- nun, da wird es in Zukunft keinen Naturally, I panicked when he Mangel an Nachfrage geben. Sein Vater whispered sardonically: war auch Arzt, eine bekannte Koryphäe für das Rückgrat. Der Musikerkollege

»If it is a disc prolapse ... it could

war also mit Rückenproblemen seit lead to paralysis if you're unlucky.« Kindheitstagen bestens vertraut. Und so war es kein Wunder dass ich in Panik

I ran, or better, hobbled to the rental

geriet als er mir sardonisch zuraunte: car I had hired for the move and sped to the closest hospital. Eventually, I »Wenn es ein Bandscheibenvorfall was examined. They took a close look ist kann es in ungünstigen Fällen at me lying on a medical stretcher. zu Lähmungen kommen!« Being in such a state of panic they asked me if I had recently taken any drugs. I vehemently denied it.

Two - Imagination Meret Becker

0 77

»You neither have loss of feeling in your legs, nor can we detect anything wrong with your spine. I can rule out a disc prolapse, 100%.« Ich sprang bzw. humpelte in

The all-clear and sympathy led

den Mietwagen, den ich mir to a great relaxing when, all of für den Umzug ausgeliehen a sudden, I heard a loud crack hatte und raste zum nächsten from the end of my spine. Krankenhaus. Dort angekommen wurde ich dann auch irgendwann

I knew I was the only one who

untersucht. Auf einer hochgestellten heard this crack. It came from both Untersuchungsbahre wurde ich another dimension and from my body begutachtet. Da man mir meinen simultaneously. I started to move panischen Zustand anmerkte wurde my limbs like a fakir. Like a creature ich nach etwaigem Drogenkonsum moving independently for the first time gefragt. Ich verneinte vehement. after birth. A light-energy streamed up my spine like a waterfall. My »Weder haben sie Taubheitsgefühle in conscience cracked open like a cloud den Beinen noch ist etwas am Rückgrat ceiling torn apart by the sun. And erkennbar. Also ein Bandscheibenvorfall everything was a song. Everything had ist mit an 100% heranreichender meaning. Finally I jumped up, started Wahrscheinlichkeit ausschließbar.« dancing and singing in a peculiar language which, to this day, I can still Die Entwarnung und die hear in my head and perform out loud. Anteilnahme führten zu einer großen Poles usually say it’s Russian. Russians Entkrampfung und plötzliche hörte think it’s Polish. Sometimes other und spürte ich ein lautes Knacken slavic languages come up. Yiddish am Ende meines Rückgrates. and Hebrew are other favourites.

Two - Imagination Meret Becker

diesem eigentümlichen Singsang,

seine Gliedmaßen benutzt.

charade! Vain pretentiousness!«

Mendacious mummery! Beguiling

doing? What a pitiful travesty!

between dream and reality.

time. I could not tell the difference

think I had slept at all during this

approximately half a year. I don’t

thoughts popped up in my mind:

»Hey, what the hell are you

energy: I entered a state which lasted

When singing in English, irritating

never succeed: it just felt wrong.

Back to those weird outbursts of

in those strange tongues!

English, or even German, I could

Hopeless. And now I was singing

notes. Whenever I tried to sing in

Kopf hörbar ist und auch jederzeit

der seitdem jederzeit in meinem

auf, fing an zu tanzen und sang in

Geburt zum ersten Mal selbständing

And don’t even start with German.

Bedeutung. Schließlich sprang ich

bewegen. Wie ein Wesen dass nach der

was that I knew how to hit the

But the truly peculiar thing

von der Sonne aufgerissen wird. Und alles sang zu mir. Alles hatte

sich wie eine Wolkenfront, die

ganz eindeutig in meinem Körper meine Gliedmaßen wie ein Fakir zu

hinauf. Mein Bewusstsein öffnete

anderen Dimension und trotzdem am Ende des Rückgrates. Ich begann

Eine Lichtenergie stieb wie ein tosender Wasserfall die Wirbelsäule

Doch wußte ich dass nur ich dieses Knacken hören konnte. Es war in einer

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

Two - Imagination

Meret Becker

blue, I had a break-down. An eternal, depressive residuum commenced. Almost in a coma, I was lying on

around and found someone who I

thought more suited for having these

ideas, something inside me said:

amp, I wandered across Berlin.

confident of success. With my portable

was so full of energy that I was still

which complicated things. But I

in Berlin - in spite of a sport injury

I started playing the electric bass

thoughts like objects in a room.

only meal of the day: Shawarma.

to Bayrischer Platz where I ate my

Just saying. Once a day I made it out

the Playboy, because of Meret Becker.

only time I bought

That was the

of Meret Becker.

a Playboy poster

apartment in Schöneberg staring at

It's him thinking this! Not me.

In my mind I could see other people’s

world blended.

inner and outer

Somehow the

me. I got it now!«

»Ah well, it’s him thinking this, not

months the pain returned. Out of the

place thoughts. When I then looked

my fold-away bed in my rear house

and then I would sing, too. But after six

surprised at thinking such out-of-

I would sit down anywhere I could find a socket and start playing. Now

Sometimes I found something

strange pop up in my head, and I was

78 0 79

andere slavische Sprachen genannt polnisch. Manchmal werden auch russisch. Russen meinen es wäre

von mir demonstriert werden kann.

Polen meinen in der Regel es wäre

N O US M AG A ZI N E 路 PA N I C

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Auch jiddisch und hebräisch

Ich konnte nicht zwischen Realität

kommen als Vermutung vor. Doch

und Traum unterscheiden. Manchmal,

das wirklich Eigentümliche war nicht

wenn mir etwas Komisches in den

dass ich in einer mir fremden Sprache

Sinn kam, wunderte ich mich wieso

sang, sondern dass ich mit Lust sang

ich mir solche, für mich untypischen,

und plözlich wusste wo die Töne sitzen. Bei meinen

Gedanken machte.

What a travesty!

Versuchen auf

Wenn ich mich dann umschaute

Englisch oder gar

und jemanden

Deutsch zu singen war mir dies

erblickte, zu dem die Gedanken besser

nicht gelungen: Es fühlte sich falsch

passten als zu mir, dachte es in mir:

an. Beim Englischsingen kamen »Ach so, der denkt das,

dauernd kritische Gedanken auf:

nicht ich, schon klar!« »Hey was machst Du hier! Welch erbärmliche Travestie! Verlogener

Irgendwie verdrehten sich innere und

Mummenschanz! Blenderische

äußere Welt. Ich meinte die Gedanken

Charade! Eitle Prätendiererei!«

anderer Menschen wie Gegenstände

Und Deutsch ging gar nicht. Absolut

Berlin fing ich wieder an elektrischen

gar nicht. Und nun sang ich mit diesen

Bass zu spielen. Obwohl eine

im Raum wahrnehmen zu können. In

mir eigentlich fremden Lauten! Zurück zu diesem eigentümlichen

Sportverletzung

Ich war so voller Energie!

Energieausbruch: Ich kam in einen Zustand, der

mir das Spielen schwer machte. Doch ich war so voller Energie dass

ich meinte es könnte wieder klappen.

schätzungsweise ein halbes Jahr andauerte. Ich meine während dieser

Ich zog mit meinem tragbaren

Zeit nicht geschlafen zu haben.

Amp quer durch Berlin.

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

Ich setzte mich mit ihm irgendwo hin

Detlev Buck und Christoph Waltz aus

wo ich grad eine Steckdose fand und

Leander Haußmanns »Herr Lehmann«

fing an zu spielen. Ab und an begleitete

lassen grüßen. Von dort wurde ich

ich mein Bassspiel mit Gesang.

aber umgehend ins Schöneberger Augusta-Viktoria Krankenhaus

Doch nach einem halben Jahr kamen

verbracht. Ich war schließlich

die Schmerzen wieder. Ich sackte von

Schöne- nicht Kreuzberger! 0

einem Tag auf den anderen förmlich zusammen. Ein ewig langanhaltendes, depressives Residuum begann.

Schöne- not Kreuzbergian! 0

Fast komatös lag ich in meiner

in Schöneberg. After all, I am

Schöneberger Hinterhofmietwohnung

me to Augusta-Viktoria Hospital »Herr Lehmann«.

starrte das Playboy-Pinup-Poster

They immediately transferred

auf meinem Schrankklappbett und von Meret Becker an. Es war das eine

from Haußmann’s film

Mal dass ich den Playboy gekauft

Buck and Christoph Waltz I assume I must have

so ganz nebenbei. Einmal am Tag

been mimicking Detlev

hatte, weil Meret Becker drin war, schaffte ich es zum bayrischen Platz, aß dort meine einzige Mahlzeit

of Urban Hospital in Kreuzberg.

am Tag: Ein Schawarma.

weird reason, I went to the A&E quite right with me. For some

Als ich es schließlich nicht einmal

occurred to me: something’s not

mehr fertigbrachte die Tür zu öffnen

then-girlfriend, Ina, it slowly

als Ina, meine damalige Ex-Freundin,

get up to open the door for my

vorbeikam wurde mir langsam klar:

where I was not even able to When I’d reached the point

Mit dir stimmt doch was nicht! Merkwürdigerweise ging ich im Kreuzberger Urban Krankenhaus in die Notaufnahme.

Two - Imagination Meret Becker

0 83

H o u r O f T h e Wo l v e s WORDS JOHN AYLESWORTH

He hears the howls and stays awake in his room at the edge of a town surrounded by woods for a hundred miles. The pack will come after him if he sleeps, if he dreams, if he stops fighting the edges of the past around.

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

They’ll catch him and tear him to slices, leave the pudding for vultures and the bones sucked dry of marrow spread out on the highway like trophies. He feels the rustling and the hunger, hears his heart spin, sees anger left when his friends killed him for a while. Inside this room, the wolves will wander, searching for him, for dreams and memories, for a carcass to gnaw on.

Two - Imagination

Hour Of The Wolves

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N O US M AG A ZI N E 路 PA N I C

The effects of societal stigma, the encouragement of misogyny, and the loneliness of a brave woman standing up for herself.

Destructive Interference WORDS LORRAINE BERRY

ILLUSTRATION KATI SZILAGYI

The first Christmas after severing

I knew neither how to sit still,

my marriage, guilt terrorized me.

occupy the moment, let the panic

Each room in my house, empty of

wash over me; nor how to flash-burn

my family, echoed back to me that

the chemicals puddling in my gut.

I had brought this on myself.

I raced across the internet looking for anyone who might distract me. I

If I had been a fifteenth-century

found an artist, alone in his studio

penitent, I would have rent my shirt,

and hoping for company; in less

lashed my back with a custom-

than an hour of online chatting,

made whip of failure and fear.

we agreed that I should drive out to his property, where we could go for a Christmas afternoon hike.

Two - Imagination

Destructive Interference

The car sprayed loose stone as I

0 87

A man emerged from the cabin

gunned it up to the top of the steep

— lodge pole pine, I guessed. He

ridge on a road that had proclaimed

looked every inch my glorified view

a couple miles back that it was a

of the sensitive male artist. Soft

seasonal highway, with no winter

brown curls, checked flannel shirt,

maintenance provided. Someone had

thermal undershirt, well-worn jeans

been maintaining the road, perhaps

on slim hips, hiking boots. I don't

a collective expense shared by the

have to be alone today. I parked.

owners of the occasional houses I could not see, but which entrances to long driveways told me were there.

»Thanks for those excellent directions. I lost cellphone coverage halfway up the hill and I wouldn’t have been able to call you.«

Two - Imagination

Destructive Interference

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

I was about to mention that

I now noticed a converted barn

this qualified as what my friend,

just a few hundred yards down

Elisabeth called a »high self-esteem

the hill. His work excited me.

moment,« but I was afraid he wouldn't understand the intended joke.

Done with his artist’s hands (which I couldn’t stop staring at) and

The sun was weak as chamomile tea.

considerable skill, I thought I saw passion in the cyan, the cobalt — blues that mixed with the cadmium orange and phosphorus yellow — pigments of the shards of glass he assembled into

A sun as weak as chamomile tea

stained windows and lamp shades.

failed to break through the cloud cover. Combined with the dormant, dun-coloured trees, the beige air

»We should take that hike before the sun disappears,« he said.

smothered everything. It wanted my attention; I told it to »shush,« that

Mid-December suns set here

this guy was an artist. Going for a

around four. Cold and miserable

hike would exorcise my loneliness.

were Skaŏi's fraternal twins, but the

artist's company made everything

No one knew where I was. I

a little less bleak. We hiked a

hadn't wanted to anyone I called

couple miles of deer trails. A snow

to try to talk me out of it.

sky loomed, and I remembered the forecast had mentioned light

»Come out to the barn and

snow showers for that evening.

see my workshop.« The encroaching dusk lowered the He led the way, and I marveled that in addition to the cabin,

temperatures another ten degrees.

»We should go in,« he said.

0 89

I felt them then: The cold tingle of flies' feet crawled up from between

I sensed some unease in him, as if he weren’t sure that he wanted me to stay,

my fingers. At first just a few flies, but within a few seconds, more.

but he welcomed me nonetheless into his home. He built up the fire, and the chill in my bones began to dissipate. He offered me a glass of wine,

A cold tingle of flies' feet crawling up.

something from an open bottle in the fridge, but I accepted it, even as I noted

I remembered back to an old

that I would have opened a new bottle

apartment, the time we had moved

of wine for a guest. A warm ruby red,

the fridge and watched a carpet of

not this steel-colored flinty white.

cockroaches run away from their sudden exposure. I recognized panic.

»I can’t offer you much for dinner,« he said. »I haven’t gotten to the market,

I couldn't react to its terrorism in the presence of a stranger.

but I do have soup and some bread.« »You don’t say much,« he said. Typical artist, I thought. So immersed in his own work that he ate only for sustenance. Not joy.

I feared speaking. I imagined him driving me to the local hospital, dumping me off at the E.R.—the

I came into the kitchen, watched him empty a single can of organic

mortally wounded gang member thrown out of a car by his accomplices.

vegetarian soup into a pan, slice up half of a remaining baguette. The soup was thin, tasteless, and unsatisfying.

»Well,« he said, and I sensed his awkwardness — poor guy, he was just like me — »you could go home now, or I could kiss you.«

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

Something inside me told me to

He was behind me, his fingers

run, but the sad, lonely, angry —

stiff like a gun in between

yes, angry — me answered. It was

my shoulder blades.

Christmas. I was alone. Why not? Those workman’s hands weren’t

And so we kissed.

artistic at all; they were hurting me, and in a second, I realized that they only way to get through this was

And so we kissed. It was a hungry kiss, an »it’s been a long time,«

to play along. But my attempts to overcome my fear were met by cruelty.

kiss, a malevolent kiss. And yet I climbed up the spiral stairs.

»For someone who was married a long time, you don’t know what you’re doing.«

Two - Imagination

Destructive Interference

»Christ, Woman. You're awful."

0 91

The blowing snow filled the windshield before the wiper could

»Your tits are tiny.«

clean it. I focused at the far point of the headlights. I didn't want to lose

I closed off my brain. When he

contact with the edge of the road, to be

had finished, I briefly thought the

the shoe in the dryer drum as the car

sensitive artist might come back,

tumbled down the ridge. The primitive

and to reassure myself that he was

road vibrated up through my arms and

not going to brutalize me anymore,

shoulders through the steering wheel;

I tried to snuggle against him.

panic sent its own set of vibrations down my arms. A long-ago physics

»You’re not one of those stupid

lecture kicked up the term destructive

women who wants to cuddle

interference. I snorted a derisive

after fucking, are you?«

laugh. Officer, I was destructively interfered with I would report.

I figured I could leave now.

Better put that idea right out of your head, Lorraine. No one would believe you. At the bottom of the hill, a small

He was done with me. I gathered

town’s faint light seeped through the

my clothes and walked out the

cloud of flurries. I wanted to crawl

front door. The falling snow had

into someone’s arms — someone

covered my car, but I didn’t bother

safe — and cry myself to sleep.

to clean it. I needed to escape. Christmas night: I called a girlfriend Adrenaline pointed the car down the icy road of dirt and stones.

who lived far away. I sobbed as I told her what had just happened.

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

At first, she clucked and fussed

I hit the blinker arm, switching

over me, letting me cry. But then

from »emergency« flashers to a

she sighed. I waited for her to

single blinking left-turn light

say something reassuring.

as I swung back into the rough approximation of my lane.

»I know you don't want to hear this.«

Panic had been trying to warn me. I couldn't treat it as if it were always something to be overcome or dismissed because it made me feel

she said. She paused, and I felt something clench inside of me.

weak. Independent women didn't let fear stop them. But the artist's hands had broken me into shards of glass.

»I know how bad you feel about what you think you’ve done to the girls. Don’t

Panic frightened me, sometimes

you think that maybe you went looking

made me hide. But if I had

for someone to make you feel as awful

listened to today's panic, I would

on the outside as you do on the inside?

not have been raped.

I think you wanted someone to punish you. And I think maybe you found him.«

I needed to sit. Still. To wait for the light that would shine

I stopped crying. Her vitriol burned

through the broken parts of me.

on its way up my legs and into my

Leonard Cohen said that the cracks

guts and chest. I wanted to throw up.

were how the light got in.

»Um. Okay. I have to go now.«

But how long was I going to have to wait before the blaze within me would light my path forward? 0

Two - Imagination

Destructive Interference

0 93

T hose big fur ry animals, too powerful to exist, too calm in hibernation. Sheer panic in a dream – or was it reality?

Bear Heel

WORDS STEPHEN JAMES

ILLUSTRATION SONNY ROSS

The Bear Heel slip, head warm and fuzzy over heels and down the stairs you go »that floor’s a deathtrap!« if only. Scars up thighs, buttocks mauled by a bear in the dead of night while you were sleeping, disturbing their hibernation. They said not to wake them. They said not to wake them. They said not to wake them. But you did; first groggy, stupid, slow, confused and unaware but then boom snap clap and they’re up straight to their feet and their mind straight to their stomachs. The hangover hits them hard but not as hard as it hits you and you fall to your knees, gasping for breath. It’s like you’ve just awoken from that dream again the one where you’re the star of the college volleyball team you look down and you look so good in your uniform yellow bikini, toned stomach glistening in the sun the whistle blows and you look up, ready but for a split second.

N O US M AG A ZI N E · PA N I C

But then you look down and you see

a blurry, misunderstood time in the

your cock sticking out of the right side

morning; bloodshot. Veins creeping

of your bikini briefs you gasp, they

in and around your favourite sensory

laugh and the first pass is thrown,

organ(s) and piercing the surface like

hitting you square in the stomach

parasitic worms begging, bursting,

and you fall to your knees, gasping

pleading kneading the homely soil

for breath. The bear towers above you

within with it’s non-existent knuckles.

and growls not a growl or a howl but

Pounding at your (eye)balls until

a scream; a higher, tighter sound than

they are mush. Not knowing it’s own

you thought a brute like this could

strength, not knowing when to stop

manage hips up and over – good boy –

What have I done? Who am I? Where

knees to the floor, hands forward with

am I? the eyes, the eyes, the teeth and

your weight on the palms, the heels

the eyes the tongue, the teeth and the

that his clickety click click claws graze

eyes. Eyes forward or you’ll never get

at ankles in the air as you scrabble

out of this alive. How on earth am I

scramble over the shoulder red eye

allowed to tell you this before I can

bouldering between the legs and under

even tell myself that it’s me that I’m in

rasped tongue salivating, curling.

immediate danger because of the bear?

sticks and stones may be displaced but

A shaggy, stinking, drooling, dripping,

at least I’m not just pretending to be

bubbles forming around yellowed

getting away from this great gristly

fangs, gruesome, wretched bear.

come on down and help me tear this

There’s a bear. There’s a bear. There’s a

little wimp limb from limb, joint from

fucking bear and my legs don’t work -

hand from wrist until you know that

numb. Not fit to carry me; somewhere

you won’t be able to put him back

between my brain, my muscles

together, with the instructions or not

and my limbs something gets lost

the high quality PDF-file scanned

something is terribly, terribly wrong

in instruction manual that was the

and nobody told me about the bear