No.1
presents
F U T U R E
A C H E S
GOING TO LLASA I don’t know about that he says while looking at the magazine. I think it’s dangerous. Living with each other for that long, we’ll get sick of each other. And so I’m thinking about all the things that could happen to make us hate each other if we did this. Like I’d have to pick out the yak fleas from under his buffalo skin hide and wring the water out of his belt after his fishhunting in the river. And I’d do it the wrong way and make a tear through the strip and he’d not have a belt and have to be pantless for the rest of the year up in that cold mountain. And repeat that day after day for a year.Wouldn’t you get sick of it, want your pants back? Or maybe some monk falls in love with me being the only woman up there that he’s seen in his life.That we find eyes with each other in the cool sunlight of morning prayer. And then I am discovered with the monk with his robe hiked up and thrusting over and over into my body while crying Ahmitaba forgive me, for I have given into temptation and me his unmaking, as unmade as he on the floor and my legs in the air that they never are in a place of worship, us both back to the primordial soup.
“ Wouldn’t you rather destroy something extraordinary than preserve something mediocre I say, our last shot. ” Robes spilling off shoulders as we run through the snow, well maybe you should have seen it coming, angry tears licked away by the wind. Or us becoming lighter and lighter in our souls with age as we became as pale and as cool as the melting winter ice, we atwined and ascending to meet there where the drop fell. That Lhasa was the road and if we both believed it that it would be possible for us to do that kind of aching wonderment for ever. How we would destroy each other when we returned back to normal life and normal days, if we had not already. How we would languish over soggy plates of spaghetti, as dull and discolored and sullen. How much happiness would we
have borrowed from our future to pay for that one year in the West. But still I am a fool and I want to pack it up and make it there. I want to breathe in the cold air at the top of the temple and look out over the empty tundra and feel the snow in my bones. I know I will be shivering and cursing and there will be no romance but the cold. Maybe I only want it in a way that if they had a parfum or an electric blue soda named Tibetan Tundra I’d fry up my quarters in a minute at the vending machine and scoop them down the tract katink katink or talk to some nicely dressed storelady at the Macy’s for that fifty-dollar boxed parfum gift set on the top right of that shelf please. But how will I
ever know unless I do go. Babe, I say to him with a nice in my smile that don’t mean it. I want to us to do this together. I’m testing him, a brick in my heart, telling him I want to do it together. What lies. He says right on cue, picking up my hands in both his saying I want to be with you too, and my eyes go aglaze. Wouldn’t you rather destroy something extraordinary than preserve something mediocre I say, our last shot. I would he says. I would he says, hearing me none with his head there turning to the right side so all I see is his big wonderful shell ear and the whorl of a hole down the shell. His arms come around me like two trees growing into each other, so lost and slow.
They were all there: MEXICAN SANDWICH The hour was 7PM. A deep and grueling hunger had brought me to my local subway at a nearby plaza. As to avoid other vehicle activity I parked my car in the far corner of the parking lot. I was tired; the last thing I needed was to have to look around before backing out of my spot. I just wanted to go, damn it. Heading forth into the arms of my precious turkey club, something in the far distance caught my eye. I blocked the sun from my eyes to get a clearer view, and yes it was just as I suspected—a ginormous Mexican family
walking in slow-motion in the direction of the Subway. My heartbeats quickened fiercely as I watched them waddle in predictable form toward my Subway. They were all there: the tired, beaten father in a wife beater; the frumpy, out-of-shape mother whose hopes and body had diminished with better times—thus if better times were ever considered when present; and of course, there were the children. The oldest daughter was a preteen who dressed in clothes far too advanced for her age. Next to her was a stubby boy whose
“ the tired, beaten father in a wife beater; the frumpy, out-of-shape mother whose hopes and body had diminished with better times—thus if better times were ever considered when present; and of course, there were the children. ”
beady eyes and brick haircut led him to appear more like an Ewok than any living human I’d ever seen. Then, so predictably skipping ahead was the youngest daughter, a generic clone in a flimsy pink dress, stained after days of neglect. I tried telling myself they were probably going to the Asian buffet next door, but seriously, in what reality would that happen? As it became more and more evident they were headed for the Subway, my thoughts began blasting out of control. I’m no fool, I knew the terrors I would
face if they managed to get in ahead of me. The mounds of orders, the indecision, the time, the hard choice little José would have to face when asked if he wanted the cookie or the chips. It was chaos! And that was just the brink of it. Imagine yours truly, Michael Roque on the crumbling edge of a brain aneurysm, standing amongst that hell of little children running about his ankles, screaming and fiddling with trays. I’m a strong man, but not that strong. I asked myself if I should run for the door. I
knew I’d look stupid, but those twelve minutes that it would probably take for them to order were too much. I looked around in every direction. The Ewok’s foot had touched the pavement—they were merely a few feet from the door. I bolted as fast as I could and as the beaten, poor father held the door open for his lumpy wife, I slyly walked in behind her.Yes, I walked in a champion, a victor in my own mind. I ordered proudly as the large caravan stood behind me, waiting. Then, with sandwich in hand, it was back to my humble abode.
Merrick The Miserable There is a legend around these parts, a legend about a hero who once saved a beautiful young girl’s life from a terrible creature in the woods of Galster Park. Though the hero had only been seen once, his brave act of valor caused him to become so famous that his name of Merrick the Miserable became known in almost three other towns across the county. Most people don’t know what happened to Merrick after that fateful night. Some say he was just a rogue, a passerby who continued his quest for unknown destinations. Others say he was a hunter of dark creatures and had been merely doing his duty as a hero of the night. Of course, those are all just wild guesses from campfire stories and elementary school children. But I know the truth. Yes, the absolute truth. Now, I know what you’re thinking: “What does this guy know? The schmuck who works at the Verizon booth?” Yeah, fine, whatever. Judge if you will. But that booth is at the center of the fucking mall, a.k.a. the center of the fucking town. I hear all and know all. And I know Merrick’s true story. Though he did indeed perform a brave act, he was not a wandering hero. No, his heroic act is actually the climax of a larger tale, a tale mainly made up of isolation and the bright light that a computer screen brings into a dark room. You see, Merrick grew up the shy, awkward type—the type who was an easy target for bullies and humiliation. While most children eventually grew out of this stage, Merrick fell in deeper, eventually dropping out of high school at age seventeen and beginning his life as a young adult with no direction in life whatsoever. He didn’t have many friends at the time and usually found himself more interested in staying home rather than ever completing school or getting a job.
“
he was the creepy villain in his own story. ” At first he told himself that his life situation was just a phase that he would eventually grow out of. It never happened. Seven years passed and Merrick was a twenty-four year old shut-in who had not matured mentally at all and was quickly letting life pass him by. His typical day would begin with him waking up at around three p.m. and instantly turning on his PC. From there, he would check all his go-to websites for about three hours and proceed to play video games until ten. He would then venture out of his room and grab whatever leftovers from his family that he could find for lunch. After that, he would usually play videos games again and stalk his favorite message boards until he fell asleep after dawn. On weekends, he would actually leave the house and wander the town, usually hanging out in bookstores. He always wore headphones so that no one would speak to him. He did this even if he wasn’t listening to music. And whenever somebody approached him anyway, usually it being a store clerk asking if he needed any type of assistance, he would immediately drop eye contact and whisper a response. I even remember hearing about a sworn-to-truth eyewitness speaking about witnessing an awkward Merrick moment right in front of them. It of course happened one weekend evening in the manga section of the Barnes & Noble. “Can I help find anything?” the pretty bookstore girl asked a terrified Merrick. Merrick immediately froze. “N.....n......no thanks,” he whispered. “Umm, excuse me?” And that was the end of the conversation. Merrick simply walked out of the store in a heartbroken panic. But he always returned. If you ever saw a dreadfully skinny guy with untamed facial hair wandering around the magazine racks or the manga section of our local Barnes & Noble, that was most definitely Merrick. And trust me, he knew he looked terrible. He felt even worse—this was mainly due to seeing people engage with one another. This would occur after his bookstore visits when he would walk through the town promenade for a cigarette smoke. The groups of friends hanging out and couples happily holding hands gave him an aching he could not handle. He always hoped that one chance, one opportunity would arise for him to join their ranks of happiness. But chances like that never came to Merrick. On those nights he never stayed out long. When his depression got that low, he would usually head home and end the night masturbating to porn and trying on his mother’s lipstick. Not much more is known about this except that it included much weeping. For the most part, his parents didn’t bother him—they were old as shit when he was born and were even older now. He didn’t blame them for the way he turned out. In fact, he appreciated how they went along with this arrangement. Merrick knew they had given up hope on him years ago. He lived for nothing and for no one. People he had gone to high school with had already graduated college and were well on there way to starting their careers. Even the townies who
got knocked-up as teens were starting to settle down with their families and were beginning to enjoy their fulfilling lives as young parents. But not he. Going on twenty-five, with zero social experience outside of 4chan and other message boards, Merrick had nothing. There literally was no point to his existence. Though he felt hollow inside, he didn’t know what he wanted. A girlfriend? If he somehow got over the fact that he couldn’t talk to people, he knew he didn’t have anything to offer a woman. Even if he chose to lower himself to dating a high schooler, he still had nothing worth giving. Friends? Same problem as having a girlfriend. A job? That would also require a lot of social requirements. Social requirements that he could not handle. The fact was his only true motivation was to stay in his dark room and let the days go by. He realized this at twenty-two years old while reading The Lord of the Rings and figuring out the one character he related to the most was Golem: a loner who hid himself from the world in deep dark holes. He was the creepy villain in his own story. In his online life, he chose to be a hero. He had always enjoyed high fantasy, from novels to online role-playing, and was especially happy that his name naturally fit into those kinds of tales. It was quite possibly the only thing he liked about himself. Across Warcraft sessions, other MMORPG games and fantasy-related message boards there had been seen the screenname of “Merrick the Miserable” many times. It was in this world that Merrick ever felt a sprinkle of pride. In truth, that was his ideal world. It was a world he flourished in. It was possibly the only time his computer screen ever brought some positive light into the darkness that was his bedroom. Turning twenty-five revealed a horrible truth for young Merrick. He was halfway through his twenties and had nothing to show for it. No friends, no memories, nothing. His youth was fading fast and Merrick could do nothing except spend the night crying furiously into his pillow. “I’m Just A Kid” and “Worst Day Ever” both continually played on a loop—a testament to both his undeveloped music taste and level of maturity. When the tears had run out, he decided that the least he could do for his birthday was reward himself with a night walk through the town. As he strolled through the quiet neighborhoods and looked at all the dark houses with its inhabitants fast asleep, he realized that this world around him was his suburban nightmare. A nightmare he could escape from if he just decided to leave forever. Fuck everything, he thought. Fuck these people, fuck their lives and fuck their friends. I hate this town. He rubbed his left eye as he began to tear up again. The heaviness in his heart was heavier than ever. It was heavy enough for him to finally want to do something about it. I can do it right now. I’ll just walk into the night and never stop. NEVER. I’ll find other places and other people. A place with new situations and new opportunities and a chance to start all
over. If it’s all new maybe I won’t be scared anymore. Maybe I’ll be able to talk. There’s still time. Maybe it was due to reaching his mid-twenties but for the first time in eight years, at that moment in the moonlit street, Merrick was at last ready to make a huge change in his life. He took a deep breath and walked into the night. He strolled for an hour with a determination he had never felt before. He took a deep breath of the cold air around him and even smiled to himself. If that bookstore girl had suddenly appeared in front of him, Merrick thought he may even have the confidence to say, “No thanks, I’m fine,” using his normal voice tone. This is awesome. He kept walking until he came to an end of the houses and to a line of trees that made up the forest area around a large hill that made up most of Galster Park. There was a steel gate opening into the forest and that began a path leading up the hill. Most people would be a bit nervous entering such an isolated area, but as someone who thrived in isolation, Merrick saw this as almost an invitation. He thrust his hands into his pants pockets and walked in. He would go to the top of the hill, look over the town one last time from its peak and then leave forever from the other end. He couldn’t see much except for the large tree shadows that stood on each side of the path. The sounds he heard were that of frogs, crickets, and the trickling of water from a nearby stream. He began to pretend that he was in one of his MMORPG games, on a quest to rescue a sexy princess from a fucked up looking frog-king. I’ll slit its throat and then she’ll be mine. Heheh. Merrick began to fantasize heavily in thought and goofily grin while doing so. Anything can happen now that I’m out in the real world. Maybe I’ll finally get to have some fun. Merrick was almost to the base of the hill when he suddenly heard running footsteps heading in his direction. The mind fantasy instantly collapsed and his heart began to pound. The fuck? He of course knew the old tales of Galster Park. Everyone in his town did. His thoughts instantly began to race about ghost boys and murderers. Merrick stopped walking and squinted his eyes against the flame of his lighter, doing his best to see what exactly was running toward him. A figure quickly ran into his view. “Hey!” Merrick shouted. “Get away!” Whoever it was, the person screamed when he saw Merrick and dodged around him, continuing his dash toward the main gates. From what Merrick quickly saw of the runner, it looked to be a teenage boy. He was scared out of his fucking mind, Merrick thought, trembling a bit himself.
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‘fucking help me!’ the girl shrieked. ” He had been running away from something. And that something was just ahead. Merrick marched forward, with his heart beating so fast it was causing him to tremble. The path turned into a corner that led to the hill’s base. There were noises of movement coming from around the bend. Fucking Galster. It’s true. It’s all true. Be it a ghost or some sick rapist, whatever haunted Galster Park was just a few feet away. It’s not too late. It’s not too late for me to disappear forever. And it’s also not too late for me to go back to my room. This was it. Merrick closed his eyes and turned down the path. When he reopened them, he saw movement on the ground before him and the weeping of a female voice. He squinted his eyes and could barely make one body atop another. A rape? Is this guy raping her? He saw a powered flashlight near him, undoubtedly dropped by the teen who had ran off. Merrick quickly grabbed it and pointed it toward the figures on the ground. FUCK. It definitely was not a rape. And whatever was on top of the girl was not human. It was black, but almost fuzzy, like something that didn’t quite physically exist. It was almost like a semi-solid shadow. Ever hear of shadow people or the Hat Man? It was definitely that fucking shit. As soon as Merrick had the light on it, the girl frantically looked toward his direction. “Its killing me!” she screamed. No one is sure why Merrick did what he did next. Either he had truly undergone true change, with his dormant maturity finally being awakened on his twenty-fifth year of birth, or it was just a combination of that perverted fantasy he had earlier combined with newly-risen confidence. Whatever it was, Merrick slowly bent on his knees and felt around for anything he could use to fight that thing. His hands grasped around a jagged rock. Merrick took a deep breath. “FUCKING HELP ME!” the girl shrieked. Merrick sprinted forward and dived upon the two on the ground. He brought the rock down against the shadow person’s skull. It rolled off her and quickly tried to attack him. But Merrick could not be deterred. He slammed the rock against the shadow person’s face and then proceeded to bring it down again and again. He was killing it. And it felt good. Really good. All his years of frustration were released with each blow. After his fifth strike, the shadow person moved back and then faded away. It ended as simple as that. And it just was a boy and girl both breathing heavily in the middle of a forest.
“What the fuck was that?” she gasped, wiping the mix of dirt and tears from her face. Not responding, Merrick quietly processed what just happened. Whatever the shadow person was... it was something beyond them. Not human. Something beyond friendships. Beyond love. And fighting it... killing it... felt so good. It was like... a real fantasy. I’ll probably never see anything like that thing again. He grinned slightly. Not here. “Cigarette?” Merrick asked, breaking the silence. He didn’t realize this was his first time talking to a girl in years. He also didn’t realize that he was not terrified of her whatsoever. “No thanks. I...I have my own.” “No, I mean give me one.” “Oh, sure.” The girl stumbled through her purse and handed him one. Merrick took it and headed back to the gate. “Wait!” The girl called. “Who are you? Stay with me. Please.” “My name is Merrick,” he replied, not even turning his head. “Merrick the Miserable. And next time, don’t date a guy who’s a total pussy.” And Merrick went home to continue his life within his bedroom. But he no longer felt sad or loneliness or an ache to be a part of the world. In fact, he sort of despised outside society. He had his chance to be a hero and achieved that goal. It was a feeling that made him happy. A feeling he wanted to keep. So he returned to his computer. To continue his adventures fighting strange creatures. You see, Merrick at long last realized that if he just blacked out the rest of the world, if it just didn’t exist to him—then the games he played in his bedroom were more real than any of the disappointing possibilities that awaited him outside. In his games, there were amazing kingdoms that existed, ripe for exploring. As long as he had the internet, he would be happy.
“ ‘my name is merrick... merrick the miserable. and next time, don’t date a guy who’s a total pussy.’ ”
dear argo
the fight
Let’s play a game. Let’s pretend that my fingers are guns. “Bang, bang,” I say. You die a drawn out death. You giggle sometimes. You’re not supposed to giggle but you do it because you think it’s funny. As a nine-year-old with little life experience, you don’t understand the severity of the subject yet. To you, death is something that happens in a cartoon. It makes you laugh because cartoon characters tend to die exaggerated deaths where lots of anvils and dynamites are involved and they come back to life in the next episode. They always do. It’s no big deal. You giggle and I don’t like it because it’s wrong. Death isn’t this funny thing—it’s a serious matter. When people die, they don’t come back. They don’t go to heaven. They don’t go anywhere. They’re just gone. So I yell at you. “That’s not funny! This is serious. We’re playing pretend like it’s for real.” You tell me to knock it off. This is only a game. You tell me I’m being weird again. “Don’t be difficult!” I shout. I give you a little push. You’re shocked. I’ve upset you. I’m not used to upsetting you because up until this point, we’ve always agreed upon everything. But this time you’ve upset me so I upset you back. That’s just how things work. “Hey!” you cry. You push me back. I shove you harder this time. We stand there like fighting cocks with their feathers raised, slowly circling each other, each waiting for the other to move first while making slight jabbing movements. Finally, you leap forward and send a flying blow to my ear. I dodge and your fist
grazes the side of my head. I reach my arm around your neck and fling you onto the floor, my legs grappling the side of your body while I struggle to beat your face with my small fists but your hands keep getting in the way. We are a tangled mass for several minutes, both too stubborn to let go. Suddenly, you roll over with such a force that I topple over. You stand up hastily and raise your hand. Truce. “Let’s stop,” you pant. “No,” I reply. I ram you really hard with all my strength and knock you back into the wall. You yelp and slide onto the floor. Now you’re crying because you’re really hurt. Somehow, you’re bleeding. “That’s what you get,” I rasp. “That’s what you get when you don’t take death seriously enough.” You just sit there and glare at me with watery eyes, your hand over that bloody spot on your head. “Fuck off, Nothing,” you whisper. You mean it. You’ve never called me that before. I scream and kick you in the gut. I didn’t even kick you hard but you shriek anyway and fall over. Your left hand is clutching your bleeding head and your right arm is wrapped around your stomach. You lie there and whimper. I stand over you and put one foot on your back. I place my pointer finger tip-of-my-gun against the nape of your neck and say, “Any last words?” You sniff in reply. “Fair enough,” I declare. Bang. You’re dead.
生活？ 甚麼才是生活的本質？ 是情感的構建，還是對於 自我對於生命的探索亦或 是其他？ 我們為了使自己活得 更有意義，不斷地尋找可 以消解無聊的事物。我們 注重於所有所謂“現實” 的事物，將它們用數字計 算，狂妄地加上我們自以 為的正確的規律。但誰 又能確切以及篤定地說： 那就是所謂的現實，那就 是我們要面對的真實的世 界？如果真的有這樣的 人，那他一定是陷在了自 我的牢籠裡，看不到遠方 的世界。 如果有上帝，上帝便創 造了世界。如果有菩薩， 菩薩便普渡了眾生。如果 你相信自己，那麼這個世 界便是由你創造，便是由 整個人類創造。每日將你 困擾的所有的慾望，也便 是你自己創造出來的。 生活豐富的人在嘲笑孤 寂單一的人，孤寂單一的 人在羡慕生活豐富的人。 事情繁多的人在想自己甚 麼時候能夠結束這痛苦又 快樂的一切，而無所事事 的人又在思考甚麼時候自 己也能成為能令自己都傾 佩的那個人。
我們都活在自己的想象 裡，從未逃出。 我們一直為自己設立了 偶像和目標，無論那些是 否真實或者可行。 其實你有沒有想過， 你覺得最無聊，沒有興趣 愛好，沈浸在柴米油鹽的 人才是真正的智者？因為 他們似乎瞭解了生活的真 諦，他們承認了生活的無 聊，也坦然接受了生活 的無聊。他們每天早起按 時吃早餐，準時上班，努 力賺錢，找一個可以一起 生活的人結婚亦或自己一 個人去感知生活帶給他們 的種種挑戰，而不是主動 尋找那些我們覺得有意義 並能稱之為“豐富”“美 好”的東西，他們從不逃 避，面對生活，他們如此 勇敢。 因為他們知道快樂與 興奮一樣都只存在於一瞬 間，大部分的時間我們的 生命都被空虛和不知為何 為人的不解所填滿，痛苦 也只是我們臆想出來的一 個名詞。你真的相信我 們口中所謂的“痛苦”就 是整個宇宙所定義的“痛 苦”，有可能，這種感覺 在另一個平行時空被叫做 了“快樂”。
我們在失戀時會喝酒， 因為大家都說喝酒能消 愁。 但是，你知道麼，酒 是不能直接灌進腦子裡去 的，那樣估計你就會變成 腦癱了。而且腦子裡也沒 有一條叫做“憂愁”的神 經，你能隨便一挑就能使 憂愁一消而散。 你的憂愁只緣於你對事 情的介意程度，對未來的 惶恐程度。 而說到未來，那又是你 自己定義的時間維度了。 我們每日每夜如此的 焦躁，說著生活好複雜生 活好苦，抱怨著卻還不得 不面對這一切的繁瑣。可 是，仔細一想，這些的憂 愁全部源自我們自己，我 們對於生活的期盼值太 高。這個世界最先耐不住 寂寞的人，發明瞭興趣， 然後廣而告之大家“人一 定要有興趣有自己的追求 才能活得真實”，但這一 切都是發明家的主觀臆 想。 其實這個世界，只有天 和地。 其實“生活”，也只是我 們自己造出來的名詞罷了。
life? What is the essential meaning of life? Is it a construction of emotions, the exploration of human nature and existence, or something else? In order for us to live a meaningful life, we are constantly searching for ways to vent our boredom. We focus on something we’ve named “reality” and give it monetary value; we label things and place them into boxes where we think they belong. Once we make these “realizations”, we tell everyone, “This is the truth”. However, who are we to say it with such certainty, that our so-called “reality” is the world that we actually face? If there is such a person, then he must be trapped in his own egocentric world, far removed from everything else. If there is a God, then God created the world. If there is Buddha, then Buddha will guide us into nirvana. If you believe in yourself, then the world is created by you, by the entire human race. We want things and our world shapes our desires, but the pathetic thing is we created this world. People who live flourishingly laugh at those who cannot; people who live miserably envy those who are not. There are those who sacrifice their dreams for money, constantly wondering
when they will be able to end their pointless day job for the life they truly want, and those who are unskilled and unmotivated to work yet daydream about becoming someone they would like to be. We are always living in our imagination with no escape. We set up high standards and goals for ourselves regardless of whether they are feasible or not. Have you ever considered that the most boring, hobbyless people immersed in the daily necessities of life can be truly wise? Because they seem to understand the meaning of life, they admit to and accept the boredoms of life. Everyday, they get up early to eat breakfast on time, get to work on time, work hard to earn money, find a person they can settle down with and marry, or they will face all of life’s challenges alone. Rather than take the initiative to search for a “deeper meaning” and create a “flourishing” life, they never escape the doldrums. They know that happiness lasts as long as excitement does—it only exists for a moment. Most of the time, our lives are either filled with void or puzzlements of our existence. But “pain” is just eikasía. Do you really believe what we define as “pain” is the same for the entire
universe? There is a possibility that in a parallel universe, this kind of feeling is defined as “happiness”. We get drunk when we break up with someone because people say drinking alleviates the pain. However, you know that alcohol cannot be poured into your brain directly or you will become brain dead. And there is also no nerve called “sorrow” that you can simply cut out. Your sorrow is generated by how much you care and your fear of the future. Speaking of the future, it is one of the dimensions of “space” and “time”, which are also defined by you. Day and night, we anxiously complain about the complications and strains of life as we must deal with them. But, if we think carefully, grief comes from us because we expect too much out of life. People who cannot bear loneliness were the first to create interests. Then, they advertised to the public, “People must have interests and goals in order to live meaningfully”, but that is all subject to the inventor. In actuality, this world is created by five basic elements. In actuality, “life” is just a noun that we invented.
hello, thank you 4 calling 1-999-hell. charles debike
illustrations: dear argo Crystal Chen going to llasa Saejean Oh www.saejean.com the fight Anna Topuriya www.topuriya.com merrick the miserable, et al. Pei-Jeane Chen www.pei-jeane.com
Photographs:
published by:
Like Like Zine likelikezine.tumblr.com
mexican sandwich Michael Roque 生活 / life? Katherine Zheng
Stories: going to llasa Crystal Chen the fight Pei-Jeane Chen mexican sandwich Michael Roque michaelroque1989@gmail.com merrick the miserable Vince Roque 生活 / life? Katherine Zheng
design: Pei-Jeane Chen
contact: likelikezine@gmail.com
Small Tune Press smalltunepress.tk © September 2013
angst! Angst! angst! Side A: 1. Jack Nance Hair Comet Gain 2. Days The Drums 3. Lullaby Priscilla Ahn 4. Scott Moses Campbell 5. Hold On Former Ghosts
Side B: 1. Epic Problem Fugazi 2. Search and Destroy The Stooges 3. Wasted State of Mind And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead 4. Deceptacon Le Tigre 5. Grey Machine Pinback
printed in hong kong /200
Please Stand By Like Like will return after these messages
ISBN: 978-988-15250-5-5