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"a graphic assortment of scholary preoccupations" fall 2013 vol. 9 issue 2, num 17

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columbia

zine

Table of Contents THINGS YOU SHOULDN’T

THE SEVEN CRUSHES

INTERSECT

24

8

ASTRO

LUCHADOR

BY DENORA DAUJATAS

FOSTER

&

RAVENSWOOD

16

BY: EINXEL REYES

JACKIE BOYS DEAD

BY ANDREW STAROSTA

BY: PABLO OLVERA

TWENTY I

KILLED GUCCI MANE

BY: ALISON TOMICH

28 40

MEMORY

by Myrene Gallardo

12

DO ALONE

BY: LESLIE PRESTO

4

HEARTSTRINGS

THIRTY TWO

BY: MARIAH BEAVERS

PUFFERFISH

WHAT IS YOUR

BY DEREK GREEN

FREEDOM?

36

BY: DONALD WU

Denora Daujatas 9-16-13

Some things you can’t, and some things you can, but there are some things you shouldn’t do alone at least once in your life. Once you find a friend, there are some things you might try, such as going to the zoo, rock climbing, ice skating, reading a book, walking to the park, learning something you didn’t know without the help of Google, talking on the phone, jumping off the high dive, learning a new recipe, shopping for groceries, swimming with dolphins, painting a house, going to a concert, learning a new sport, flying a kite, playing a videogame, jumping on a trampoline, moving out, painting a picture, riding the subway, tiling a floor, walking a dog, riding a rollercoaster, taking pictures, talking, eating a pizza, going to the Eiffel tower, witnessing a crime, stargazing far away from the city, going shopping, collecting rocks, cleaning the kitchen, shooting hoops, watching Star Wars, climbing a ladder, going to the top floor of a sky scraper, attending a funeral, baking cookies, going to jury duty, building a fire, going to school, fighting an alligator, reading comics, watching a new TV show, telling someone how you feel, learning how to surf, facing your fears, writing a letter, helping others, going to the jungle, swimming at night, firing a shotgun, meeting a celebrity, using power tools, following the rules, breaking the rules, bowling, finding a new job, taking a road trip, making someone’s day, eating ice cream, doing what you think is right, eating too much chocolate, dusting the furniture, learning how to drive, plugging something into the outlet, building a table, playing cards, making new friends, going in the mines, flying a plane, buying new shoes, doing gymnastics, writing a review, decorating, going to the casino, working on an electric fence, visiting someplace new,

riding a horse, telling a lie, visiting a friend, going to the library, crossing the street, going to a bad neighborhood, buying a car, going to the hospital, cooking, walking in a forest, carrying a large amount of cash, going to a skate park, playing a board game, going on a cruise, going to the gym, going hunting, studying a beehive, watching a scary movie, performing a laboratory experiment, going to a restaurant, shark diving, going to a wrestling match, walking on the beach after midnight, and lifting something heavy. Doing things like that alone isn’t a healthy way of life.

Astro Luchador What if wars were settled on the ring and each country was represented by one person? Not just any person, but a masked hero, a luchador. Astro was only seven years old when the 2099 war was started by robotech, a japanese interplanetary weapons company who supplied androids to most of the countries in the world. One day robotech grew power hungry and secretly started building a new droid in an underground base. The “mechakasi,� a samurai soldier that could travel at fast speeds. Robotech also ventured into the discovery of world holes and einstein rosenbridges. They believed that portals could beplaced all around the universe through fields of high energy. The first attack happened on june 6th 2099 when japan invaded the shores of what used to be California, which now laid in ruins after being flooded by the effects of global warming.

Astro’s father a masked general for the navy seals lead the counter attack. After three years of fighting back and almost half of the west coast brought down to rubble the battle was over. The U.S. managed to drive the mechakasi back to the shores of japan. His father however died in battle but not in vain. After the war the rest of the world decided to form the WWUN or world wrestling united nations. It was decided that wars would now be settled in the ring which in time evolved into a world wide sport.

Countries would gather each year to fight for bragging rights. The winner would get to control the trade of space goods. Goods that were vital to the survival of human kind.

Who ever controlled the trade controlled the world for one year. When his father died a fire grew inside of astro, a fire that would grow so intense and uncontrollable, no one would be able to stop astro from fullfiling his destiny, little did astro know but he would change the fate of the

universe.

Astro’s mask was blue with white trimming, he worked at a mine in planet ISO6, a planet with dangerous conditions and only good for the mining of plasma 6, a metal that was discovered to be stronger than any metal on earth. Astro lived there after his mother passed away from illness when he was 18. Now astro was 23 and felt like he had more to give more to fullfill. He decided to join the intergallactic armed forces. He joined the mask alliance and that’s when it all changed for him. He was trained in the art of masked wrestling and would be on the path to fulfill his destiny. Â

Everyone has a crush. It is the one thing that can tear you apart, or be a great learning experience.

Crushes are what makes the world go round—you start them and then you get over them.

For me, I was never the boy crazy type. I was the type of girl who the boys thought of as a friend.

In Pre-K, I experienced my first encounter with the meaning of having a crush. His name was Mario. Mario was popular among the girls in Pre-K. He was a very sweet and gentle fellow.

Parallel to his cute fashion sense, Mario had a great smile. I never knew how pretty one's smile could be until I saw him laugh and giggle about something. The next three boys were short lived.

Neil was a play date boy I liked because he'd let me play with his Might Morphin Power Ranger action figures. Scott was a blonde hair, blue eyed boy who turned out to be a real douchey kid, even at eight years old. And Paul was someone i hung out with at after school care who I thought was cute and nice, but turned out to be yet another mean boy.

But my everlasting crush on Michael felt like I have actually fallen in love with him; even at the age of 11. I've known him since kindergarten and as we got older, we got closer. But with all crushes, there were complications. Every girl in our grade had a crush on him and he knew that.

Once we entered junior high, he got popular while I just stayed in the background. I never did stop liking him, even up until high school.

After Michael there was David. Oh, David... He was my coworker at my first job and I thought he was the funniest guy I'd ever met. David was three years older than me, and to my delusion, I thought that he could be my first real boyfriend. We'd always flirt and make stupid remarks to each other, that I became so infatuated with him. It wasn't until we were at a small party that I embarrassingly professed my love to him in my drunken manner. My friends said that he didn't see me in that way and I tried my best to get over him. My friendship/lack of relationship with him was an on and off roller coaster. One day I say that I'm over him, the next I say that I'm not.

It took me pretty much two years to get over him.

And then there was Josh...the crush of all crushes that didn't crush my crushing. Not only

has he become an important person in my life, he has become one of my bestest friends. Almost three years later, I'm so fortunate to still have him around. Â

Foster & Ravenswood by Einxel Reyes There I was sitting on the squalid curb of Foster and Ravenswood. Beads of sweat ran down the side of my forehead. Across the street, a large woman was selling elotes while her lively children blew bubbles and played with hula hoops. The once frozen mango paleta was now embedded into my skin from the blistering heat. I forgot how it felt like to be in this area during the summer time. Had I become too suburban? Did I lose myself from the sheltered streets of Skokie? I refused the idea of what I had become and knew deep down inside there still lived the same mushroom haired wild child that freely roamed the streets of West Foster.

I decided to head back to my colorless suburban home through public transportation.

Rays of sunlight beamed through the CTA windows, flashing on a gloomyfaced mother and child carrying an abundance of laundry and coin wrappers. In an instant, I was reminded of how it was to be so frugal yet live so blissfully. I remembered how my mother and I walked a few blocks to the Coin Laundry World with oversized trashbags full of our hand-me-downs from the Philippines. We spent the whole day there staring at loads of laundry spinning endlessly, but I didn’t mind. I had my mom and Batman and Robin action figures with me. Falling asleep in my mother’s arms, she sang, “What’s up?” by 4 Non Blondes. I looked forward to those Saturday mornings. I

really did.

In my room, I had an shoebox full of aged photos of myself. I looked deeply into the eyes of my ten year old self. I realized things had changed, I had changed, and there was no amount of forced forgetting that was going to make things exactly as they were before.

The photos gave me a feeling of sadness that only West Foster had. I stepped outside onto my porch to enjoy the remaining days of summer.

From a close distance, I heard a familiar noise. “Twenty-five years and my life is still.

Trying to get up that great big hill of hope. For a destination.” With a sincere smile, I sang along to the Gen X song. It took me a back to a simple time where I felt confident and sure. I truly knew what love meant and gave everything I had. I was comfortable in my own skin. I didn’t know what it meant to look ridiculous or have the insecurity of people judging me. I was ecstatic to have a picture taken with a bowl cut.

Every street we’ve walked down, every house we’ve lived in, and every film we see becomes engraved with the person we were when we did those things.

I Killed Gucci Mane.

I was selena gomez but I didn’t go home. What I experienced wasn’t apart of the reality.

It was what I kept telling myself was supposed to happen. One long drawn out week was now a blur.

The morning mimosa wouldn’t do the trick this time as our flight headed back home.

Boobs.Bongs. Bikinis & beer. Was Harmony Korines 2013 season sensation, Spring Breakers, a soft porno or a salutation to the prime party week of college students across the nation? Easily both, but the film captures a greater meaning that most viewers don't recognize. Korine emphasizes in several interviews that his vision for the film was to create a feeling of transcendence. He emulated the desire of spring breakers. Stories that aren’t of what exactly happened, instead stories that easily exceed beyond the ordinary. Stories that go above the range of normal experiences. Getting trashed and wrecking hotel rooms was only the beginning.

I (Selena) bible reader, firm believer, every night prayer sweated over the idea of misbehaving.

Gallons of Malibu and liters of sprite later, I and two best friends found ourselves sunkissed and splattered across the heavenly florida sand. What we fantasized about our spring break started to become true. We wanted more. Craving craziness led us to our own James Franco character. He didnt have a grill, corn rows, or blow a handgun. It wanst about his awkward accent, but his motive was the same. Korine saw that spring break girls envied over bad ass boys. Most of all a seven letter word starting with t... TROUBLE. For us the story ended here. There were no shotgun dance parties and no one got shot for real. Our bad boys boosted our confidence, bought us beer after beer, then our week was already over. Selena didnt get the chance to go home early because we didn't make it that far. But I would have stayed. All of the adrenline mixed with hormones...it felt like I killed gucci mane.

What Korine does in the film is expose how we felt about our spring break trip. YEA SO WE FELT LIKE MAYBE WE MADE FRIENDS WITH SOME DRUG DEALER, RANSAKCED ALL OTHER SPRING BREAKERS, THEN KILLED GUCCI. Of course it would never happen in real life which is why people have no appreciation for the movie. The film uncovers the ultimate spring

break story that no one would ever get away with, although its all how we imagine it. Its a perfect exaggeration.

Perhaps it's a bit over the top. Yes, some of the shots and voice overs sound really awkward and forced.

Then again so was my suitcase when I flet it was necessary to pack six different bathing suits and paint my nails neon orange. Â

The story begins with two girls who live two separate lives, with nothing in common. Not the car they drive, the friends they have, or any interests. In a matter of one decision their lives will come together in an instant. One night a few days before halloween one of the girls was driving home from a night out with friends, as the other was driving home from a night out with her friends as well. Both listening to music enjoying the quite drive home, they both were also 5 minutes from their destinations. On this particular night she had been drinking, with her impaired judgement she decided to get into the car and drive home. Almost home she approaches an intersection and see’s the driver come to a rolling stop.

She continues through and almost clearing the intersection she is hit abruptly, her vehicle spun out of control into the middle of the street. Both air bags deploying, driver side air bag crashing through her face, ripping through layers of skin.

Once the car came to a stop through her cracked windshield she see’s the car continuing through the intersection dragging her bumper along with it. When leaving her mangled vehicle she reached for her cellphone which was on 5% battery and dialed 911 “911 Whats your emergency?” said the operator. “I have just been in an car accident” as the words came out of her mouth she still could not believe what was happening around her. “Where did the accident happen” Only a few blocks away from her home she stumbled around trying to see where she was, “Woodridge drive, and 83rd.” “Police officers are en route now.” She hung up to a voice of a older women who lived on the corner. “Are you ok!?” She looked up still in shock, and replied “yes, did you see the vehicle that did this?” The older women

replied and said, “No just that it was a dark car.” Sirens get louder and louder, the police pull into the middle of the street and ask “where did the vehicle go?” She pointed down the street, and the officer sped off in that direction. As she walked around to see what awaited her on the other side of her vehicle. She had been hit on her passenger side, due to severe impact the car had been totaled. The passenger side of her car was unrecognizable, the back door had ended up in the middle of her back seat. Her back tire was bent underneath her car, she was in disbelief. As the police officer approached her he told her that they had caught the person who had hit her, a bystander vehicle cornered her so she could not continue to drive any more. These two lives and cars intersected because of one decision to drink and get into a vehicle under the influence. Altering their lives forever one live will forever have a record of driving under the influence, and the other will spend most of her live going in and out of doctors, hospitals, and physical therapists offices.

Jackie Boy’s Dead!

This graphic retelling of lyrics derives from a short-lived Chicago hardcore band, Jackie Boy’s Head (JBH), and is a set-list transformed into an interesting tale of two anti-heroes. Our characters must remain nameless because they simply do not exist, and are fictitious. However, their psychotic relationship together is assumed as vigilantly pointless, and the gritty actions by these individuals are carried out within a span of three days. Our story begins with the end.

The Last Day: At Home Lobotomy At home alone, at home lobotomy; Escape your own, escape reality; Forget about, forget society; Create new ones, create anatomies; Complete control, complete calamity... …I think it’s about time for a fresh fucking start.

Blank walls white space, Blows up in your face!

You can’t be so melodramatic You can’t even be mellow with me.

I want you to beg for me.

Instead you beg for this lobotomy.

Two Days Ago, Late Morning: Hero in the Sky Look at your atmosphere; he is what you must fear.

Hero in the sky Fallen very high.

Take my advice.

It would be nice.

To become a hero in the sky!

Don’t be alarmed by holes in his arm.

Hero in the sky Fallen very high.

Took my advice.

It wasn’t nice.

To become a hero in the sky!

Earlier That Day: Choked Up! Lie by my side, choked up, swallow my pride.

Aren’t you glad you finally have a bite of me now?

Don’t stop now. Show me how you showed off to the rest.

Be the best for me now. Be the best…

I’ll close my eyes. Open your throat. Let’s see how far this goes.

She sucked on this dick; and after she licks, I’ll squeeze on those tits. She’ll lick my pride and joy. Enjoyed my pride. 1, 2, 3, 4…

Meanwhile:

Billy the Kid More drinks for me; can’t cut me off cause the night is early.

Roll heads in deep; hold me back because I’m fightin’ dirty.

You just fucked up.

You blame me for what I did. I look up to Billy the Kid. Life’s a bitch now.

You can’t blame me.

Just give up now.

You can’t tame me.

Life’s a bitch now Bartender’s lame, balding fuck pushing over thirty.

Forget my name; doubt you will after I fuck up this place.

You can’t maim me; I’m Billy the Kid!

After the Bar: Los Banditos This is story about money, and it’s a tragic one of many.

Two Bandits robbed a bank, They couldn’t care what you think.

Shots fired in the air, The banker pisses in his chair.

This is a stick up, bitch!

Victims hit the ground with their hands up.

Stay. Right. There. YOU UGLY FUCKING BITCH! No one needs to die As long as you comply; I’d like to see you try And make this a bad day.

The Next Day: Ballpoint Rage Wake up, coffee White shirt, black tie Car keys, traffic.

Parking’s havoc!

Early morning elevator ride, You get the memo? You’re going to die!

Water-cooler rumors laid to rest.

You’re so surprised by this bulletproof vest Stabbed in the head with my ball-point pen Ink mixes in with red; you lay there fucking dead.

I’m not fucking around I will chase you.

Still not fucking around When I find you.

The cock of a shotgun is not as bad as, The click of my ballpoint, the sound of my pen Be scared of my pen.

Memory One memory I am most fond of is neither happy nor sad, but fulfilling. Throughout my childhood, I’ve been made to think like an adult, to understand my consequences as they come.

Back then, I never fully found the words to express how I truly felt. These thoughts would swim around in the back of my mind creating oceans of endless questions and what ifs. What if my mom didn’t tell me about my father’s mistress? Would my perception of his loyalty change and reroute its way to feelings of happiness and youthfulness as oppose to an array of misleading assumptions? Why am I the liaison of their relationship? Why couldn’t they speak with each other instead of expressing how they truly felt through me? There were too many questions scattered in my mind and this starting at the age of 8.

“He’s a liar!” she screams. “Don’t believe your mother,” he says to me. At the age of 8, this was our most frequent conversation. Who was I to believe who was right and who was wrong? I was 8 and still trying to understand what was going on. It wasn’t until I was the age of 13 that I found he was the true liar and it hurt my feelings. It hurt my feelings; a phrase that is most commonly used when something smacks in you in face with reality. This hurt feeling of mine was a feeling I was most used to. I was hurt because I couldn’t live my youth, because I substituted their happiness for my happiness, because I was so naïve to think that he was loyal and loving, that my parents would never lie to me. “She calls the house obsessively. She only speaks when he answers,” my grandmother would say. I remember hearing the phone ring. I picked up the phone only to hear breaths of needy desire. I was heated and my language changed, “How dare you have the audacity to call my mother’s house you shameful bitch?” She responded, surprisingly, which only brought on disbelief. “I am not a bitch,” she yells in her Filipino accent, “He’s not your real father anyway so why do you care?!” I stopped to catch my breath, to think. How would she have known he wasn’t my real father unless he had told her?

What makes me so insignificant? I kept these questions in my head and replayed her words verbatim until I figured out her code of retribution. I stopped speaking to my dad after

this. He wouldn’t even answer my question to who she was and why he acted the way he did. I lost all trust. Although I had lost all trust, my emotional state still loved him. I’ve learned to accept who

Puffer Fish As I sit on the edge of the tub making tiny ripples with my index finger, I wonder what she’s thinking about while she lays under the water. The last bubble came up about a minute ago, but beneath the still surface of bath water I can see her eyes gripping mine with pain and betrayal. Her stare does nothing to me; I no longer feel anything. This is why I can watch the love of my life drown.

FLASH Almost as if a camera had gone off, I’m back to when she first asked me to see a therapist. “Nathan, Nathan are you listening to me? Where do you go inside your head? I feel like I’m losing you. You don’t sleep at night and you won’t talk to me. I love you and hate seeing you like this. Will you please see someone?”

“Huh? Yeah sure I’ll get around to it. Don’t worry about me, Ellen, you know

how I get sometimes.” I recalled saying and….

FLASH

I’m back in the bathroom dragging my finger across the top of the water.

Only a few moments have passed, even though it felt like I’d just re-­‐lived an entire memory. I sit and watch Ellen’s perfect twenty eighty-­‐year-­‐old breasts slightly move, not from breath, but from her heart desperately pounding to keep her alive and…

FLASH

I am sitting on an expensive leather couch with a therapist talking at me and

I’m not listening. My mind is wandering on about some movie I saw about a neurotoxin that is derived from a puffer fish. It causes a person to be conscious, but

paralyzes all voluntary muscles at the same time. That’s when Mr. Ph. D. says “Nathan, I’m putting you on Ambien” and…

FLASH

I’m back in the bathroom. Again hours seemed to have pass, but I am

suddenly back in the moment. I see Ellen is in the same exact position as she was before I drifted off. It doesn’t matter if what is happening is wrong or right because at this point I am an empty shell. Watching Ellen drown is about the same to me as the power going out, or forgetting to take the garbage can to the street on Tuesday night…

FLASH

I am taken back to earlier today, coming home to find a brown UPS package

about the size of a shoebox on my front porch. I walk in with the box, Ellen greeting me with love as always. “What’s in the box, babe?”

“Oh, it’s an herbal relaxant I ordered from this obscure online teashop. Would

you like to try it? I ask, and…

FLASH I’m back at the tub. I look at my watch and what I thought was only moments had turned into an hour. Still submerged, Ellen is surely dead. I slowly pull the phone out of my pocket and dial 911, “I would like to report an emergency.”

What Is Your Freedom

Donald Wu Publication Design

What does freedom mean to you? I’m sure everyone has their own definition of what it means to be free. For me, freedom is more of a feeling, than a concept. To be free, is to be alive. And to be alive in my opinion is to be here, present in the NOW, face to face with the reality around you. Personally, I believe that there is no better freedom than riding a bike in the streets of Chicago, especially on a nice sunny day.

I have a heavy steel frame bike weighing at about 35 pounds. Towards the front of the top tube are old school gear shifters, I am pretty sure this bike was manufactured in the 70s. The handles bars are wrapped up with beige-­‐colored foam grips, which used to be white. It has a black saddle mounted on the seat post. I put a sticker of a head of the Buddha on the fork. My bike will stand out like a sore thumb because the frame is painted in a reddish burgundy. Despite a few chips and exposed rusty spots, my bike can still catch up to some modern road bikes.

This is the love of my life. It has become a joy to take my bike out for a cruise into the streets of Chicago and not knowing where I might end up.

You don’t get the same feeling from driving a car. Something special happens when you physically engage your full body with something.

Just like working out, you detached yourself from the mental conversations that your mind normally have. The reason being that you put all your focus away from you mind, and into your BODY.

When you get on a bike, you become one with the bike. A bike by itself, is just a bike. A bike controlled by a rider, is an adventure waiting to happen. All of life’s problems no longer exist once I get on my bike. I become a participant of a HUGE world, where the road is the sea, and my bike is my ship.

That is freedom to me.

Everyone has a calling in life, and I believe that mine is to travel around the world. I have this deep inner urge to go out into strange and

unfamiliar places. Maybe everyone has this inner desire to want to explore, I mean our ancient ancestors were a nomadic species after all.

As much as I want to set sail into the ocean like Christopher Columbus, my current life situation provides me a narrow chance of pursuing my dream. But for NOW, my solution to channeling my urge to travel is my bike.