Hair Metal Bubblegum

Page 1

t



Credit Edited by Jana Miller Cover photo by Jake Zilinski (circa 2010) Written/everything else by Nicholas Arthur



For Theresa one of the coolest people I’m ever going to meet.


Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum By Nicholas Arthur Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum Hair Metal Bubblegum.



Freshman Year I still remember your Converse shoes, covered in faded Sharpie hieroglyphs of lost love and your favorite bands. I remember sitting on hot blacktop, against a parking curb and the way your hand felt. Everything felt permanent in the overbearing July sun for the first few days. Wide-eyed teenage love. It gave way just as easy to glassy-eyed hatred and hesitation marks. We haven’t spoken in nearly six years.

1


5/21/11 If the rapture occurs on Saturday I’ll be behind a cash register at Kohl’s, scanning clothes for middle age women wearing large golden crosses and t-shirts from their vacation bible study groups. People who think that I’m part of a vast conspiracy with Barack Obama to steal the money they waste on clothes that they won’t need if their savior really does come back, sweeping them off their feet to sit on a cloud, watching us confused looking pagans below their name brand sneakers.

2


The Laminate of Your Table Swaying sawdust lungs cough and hack furniture of average to impressive quality. Polished cherry, maple and oak. Perfect for resting coffee and beer. Condensation aiding water logging. Human habits leading to nicks and scratches. Making love, making war, wearing away and eventually ending up at a resale shop for a very modest value to be picked up and used. Subject to the same practices until one of those practices damages it beyond reasonable repair. Tables sit on curb sides, bitter that their cigarettes are too wet to light as they wait for their new destination. Dismantled on a barge. Decomposing. Back to the dust they were when they were summoned out of swaying sawdust lungs.

3


Wisconsin I dreamed about some futuristic land in Wisconsin. Everyone wears sweatpants. It’s pretty damn comfortable. Relax. Life is too short to be continually uncomfortable. It creeps me out to see you stuff your contours into society’s molds. Falling out, falling down, flag waving. Fingers shoved down your throat binge, purge, fit, consume, love, repeat.

4


Cobweb Skyscrapers Up tight and concerned, pressed against dope-sick eyes heavy with sadness. Dumb-fuck lover boy blues are in heavy rotation on the jukebox in the abandoned bar. Cobweb skyscrapers ascend to the bar stools. The copper piping is long gone, but the jukebox wakes up to play everyone’s favorite loser tune every now and then.

5


Wires I once had a teacher who stepped on an extension cord with the sharp heel of her shoe as she was teaching us about multiplication. Inanimate electrical spirits poured out, jumping and dancing from the cord, a shocked look transfixed across her wrinkled features. It was good to have a break from the multiplication.

6


Ballad They’re playing our song on the moon. Not much makes sense about this, but it feels good all the same. Worn out happiness is echoing down the creators, falling on empty ears. Licking wounds, kissing bruises making up as best I can. Even though you’re long gone.

7


Falling Apart I bought a cheap plant from Meijer. Not much water, not much care, couldn’t be too difficult. When things started to come apart more and more the shades were closed more often. Water didn’t come as much. Maybe the increased levels of Elliott Smith did in my leafy green silent friend. Either way, the once strong green leaves withered brown and fragile. Falling away behind the book shelf, on to the sea of chords below.

8


Young/Dumb I wouldn’t exactly change any of it I guess. The afternoons spent in hazy orange bliss. Floating into the ether. Endings are usually complicated, pointless, misery. I regret prolonging that rather than appreciating what we had.

9


Western Connecting your birthmarks in the faint light of the neon sign in your bedroom.

10


Whippersnapper Dandelion love-sick kids cling close, attempting to slow up the hands on the clock a bit. You won’t always get the chance to make seniors uncomfortable as you make out on the patio furniture at Sears. Soon they too will tense and grimace at youth that once seemed never ending.

11


Abandoned Theater You drew a picture of us together at the theater where we first met. You probably threw it away after we split. Now that crinkled piece of paper is playing re-runs of Quarantine for an audience of other disregarded inanimate objects. In a galaxy of coffee grounds, spaghetti sauce and paper plates where we’re still as interested in one another as we were on that night.

12


12:35 a.m. Cheap liquor burn and menthol cigarette smoke rise to the full moon. Large fumbling dumb nothings splinter in two. Trying to impress you even though you like me anyway. Comb my hair messy just the way you might like. Stand up straight only to hunch over out of habit.

13


Moon Face I kept poking and prodding, scratching and squeezing until it finally R E L I E F. At least until morning. When more will sprout up like dandelions in an abandoned field.

14


Oranges When waves crash over a deserted beach at 4:00 a.m. causing the insects to burrow into the wet sand. As the wind moves underneath the branches melting into a droning silence. We will be in opposite rooms celebrating the same holiday that isn’t highlighted on the calendar in the living room. Eventually we will realize that we are in different rooms and the celebration will fade into longing for one another.

15


Cures My nasal passage clogged up like I-94 at 5:00 on a Friday. I blew my nose until the goddamn Earth shook underneath my feet. I put all of my weight into each fist that hit my pillow for the scattered sleep. I took a bath and felt my nose unclench and run into the water like a broken faucet, only to clench back up with twice the determination when I was dry. I took the small round red “decongestants.� Not a single thing. I woke up dry mouthed and miserable. The same way I closed my eyes.

16


Tacos at the Diner down The Street The despair still seeps out between the cobblestones of the dungeon that has been turned into a tourist attraction. Where t-shirts and snickers bars are sold next to a place where a portion of mankind suffered unimaginable agony. The breeze moves through the shackles that remain and the fake plastic skeletons that they wrap around. The gift shop’s florescent bulbs hum and flow together with the sustained moans that still echo the hallways. Despite the surreal juxtaposition of human suffering and commerce the only thing I can think about are tacos. Not even good ones. In fact the ones encased in grease from the local diner would work. People might say that it’s a strange time and place to want some cheap tacos. However, the ghosts that still inhabit this 16th century torture 17


chamber could probably go for some tacos as well. So I’m sitting in this diner now telling you about my day, trying to fill in the awkward spaces in conversation while eating this taco in memory of the ghosts that dwell in a dungeon that’s now a tourist attraction.

18


Marshmallows Wood grain dreams hula hoop telepathic nonsense across the chair lift wires that bridge the gaps between the snow white mountains of your teeth. Skiing enthusiasts zig-zag down the slopes, laughing and carrying on as they tumble down the mountains and I realize that it’s hard to stay mad at you.

19


Hey If you’ve got a good idea ringing in your ears don’t be afraid to share it. Come over and we can watch infomercials about salvation and exercise machines until the sun stumbles over the horizon.

20


Submarine Sunsets I sat in the same padded chair at the end of the fiction section. I read the newspaper. I dreamed we were watching a sunset. One where the sun looks like a gigantic orange blimp transforming into a submarine. Slowly descending. Carrying out deep sea explorations that are the stuff of National Geographic cover stories. I dreamed I didn’t have glasses that could vaporize an ant in a few moments with a good beam of sunlight. I dreamed that you noticed me as you put books away.

21


Movies about Vampires We sat in the theater teenage eyes glazed over and worried, trying to watch the boring movie about vampires. Trying not to think too much.

22


Falling Through a Time Rift and Meeting My Future Self When I was at work there was an older guy who needed help finding a card for his wife. He said he couldn’t find anything. I looked around the corner and found a whole section of cards that were for wives. They were the less serious ones with cartoons and light hearted sentiments printed across the front. When he saw them he said “No, not those ones, I’m trying to get laid.”

23


Blue Every kiss ends with eventually driving home under the haunting glow of moonlight. Traveling down empty expressways. Water appears on blades of freshly cut grass. The engine hums through the open windows. Open the door slowly, so you won’t wake your parents up. Pretend you were asleep all along. It’d be cool if you were here too.

24


Crates The twist of your hips, the pressure of your lips accented by the moonlight. Dark blues with a white glow round the edges. Crates full of old soul records are stacked in your room. Cigarette smoke floats and weaves with heavy bass lines. Romantic clichés are clichés for a reason. There’s not much skepticism here. I don’t smoke cigarettes, but I do now, at least for this moment.

25


Tiny Closing Credits I saw a spider float through bits of breeze on a length of web, swinging from the ceiling fan in the living room. He floated down to the carpet and made a run for it. I’d like to think he floated on to some happy existence: A web full of dull gnats and some peace and quiet. Instead he’ll probably be crawling through our blankets and sheets only to be crushed by frantic legs and feet, once dreaming and still.

26


Muted The clouds muted everything to a blue gray glow. Goosebumps and love bites. Scratch marks crisscross my spine. Things are quiet aside from the drone of the interstate.

27


Strawberries I remember you far off but clear as can be, your lips forming closing credits to films that had their funding cut. I looked at the faded heart you drew on my wrist in black pen. We were eating strawberries on a stairwell in a condominium. I kissed you and you waited until it was over.

28


1:47 a.m. Making mac and cheese for myself while I watch spiders build their homes in the corners of my ceiling. Bob Dylan talks through my stereo about some girl I don’t know who I try to morph into a girl that I do know.

29


Starry Canopy Underneath the artificial starry canopy we point out accidental constellations, laying next to one another. My heart jumps against my ribcage. You’re finding more constellations, but I’m too nervous to focus on the false solar systems. My thoughts are submerged in this moment with you and the glowing stars I typically take for granted. I realize how beautiful you are in this moment and wonder why I didn’t realize it sooner. Chasing hopelessly after girls who didn’t care about me, spending lonely nights consoled by quick fixes. When I could’ve been here, complete and happy, leaning over toward you in the dark. Our lips finally meeting.

30


...I'll Talk to You Later or Something I like you as much as fundamentalist Christians like being secure in their belief that there will be some space in the clouds for them when they pass on.

31


Growing Up I remember digging through the pebbles on the playground, hoping that there would be some gold or other sought after material buried away among the small smoothed over stones. Financial burden melting away. Just hair ties and strange insects lurking beneath. Pinchers and legs, nylon and plastic. I continue digging. I reach a trapped door. All the kids that once surrounded me are gone. Just me and a trapdoor underneath the pebbles. It’s a wooden door. It creaks a bit when I open it. I can’t hear anything. Pitch black. Just a distant rustling. I can’t see the entry anymore. Keep crawling forward. I can’t see what’s in front of me. I hit a wall. I feel the wall a bit. Another door. I open the door. 32


In the room is a large dragon. The dragon is too large for the room. He is doing tax returns. He looks up from his tiny spectacles in a reassuring grandfatherly like way, something that you wouldn’t expect from a dragon stuffed into a subterranean lair. "Look kid, things might be tough. She likes the other boy with more self-confidence and parents who will buy him whatever he bothers them about, but he will develop a wicked problem with narcotics. You’ll be okay. Things are going to work out. Just wait it out a bit longer.” I was back on playground. Sounds of my classmates rushed back to my ears. I felt better until the scary older dudes started calling me some weird name they made up for me. People laughing at me, the girl included. Sometimes it’s difficult to take the wisdom of subterranean dragons doing tax returns in the present, even if it seems obvious in hindsight. 33


Hair Metal Bubblegum I thought about a moment the other day. One where we were both in each others arms and laughing uncontrollably. I'm not sure about what exactly, but those memories tend to leave a weird resounding ache. They only seem to deepen with time. I have a hard time understanding why.

34


Motel After mouse clicks and frantically tapped keys we sat on the motel bed. We looked at one another with apprehension and desire. I turned your chin with my thumb and forefinger gently, lovingly. Then it all fell away. Evaporated into a cool summer breeze from an open window. I was sleeping next to someone else. I’m glad we never met. I wouldn’t have been what you were looking for. I’m glad all of that potential heartache is only crammed into dreams rather than our living, breathing, everyday existence. 35


Flooding I thought about you over shop vac hum. My old work shirt is covered in sewer water and sweat. Rain fell and the drain hacked up more water, flowing over discolored gray flecked tiles. I thought about distant daydreams that haunted and lifted my delirium filled cranium. I tried to imagine I was still laying next to you, trying to figure out what to do with my arm.

36


Longing You remind me of gaps in polite conversation where everyone would like to start talking again, but they can’t. Maybe they’re thinking of a joke that no one else would understand or maybe they’re thinking of an odd moment with a person they loved. Warm tingling wide-eyed, melted heart thud resonating through their bones. Only to snap out of that world to a polite conversation that has stalled out.

37


Broken Flowers Flowers cut and arranged, destined for buckets filled with 1/3 water in an artificially refrigerated purgatory. Destined to be hurled back into harsh elements with no way to eat or drink, griped in the hands of forgetful lovers, celebrating love that will crumble and collapse. Swept into the margins of history books. Stuffed hastily into cheap containers in fits of ecstasy and agony. Dependent on the feeding tubes of vases. Broken flowers that are left to dry up on a window sill. Collecting dust, living out their last days in a doom encased existence. Their once lively green leaves curling into brown silhouettes.

38


6:45 a.m. Remember when I used to try to inflate sunrises like beach balls? Beach balls that bounced as good as when they were first free from their plastic cocoon. Coffee chatter works its way through weary limbs as your cat licks my palms. I watch you put on your uniform. Inconsiderate and lazy, lodged in my happiness with you.

39


Stock Into the black tarp with holes punched in it. Cold air flowing in and out of weak lungs. Tail pipe snowdrifts gather around worn out tennis shoes covered in snow, soaked in cold water. The moon knows your social security number and that you want to wake up two weeks earlier.

40


Drunk in a Red Aluminum Galaxxy I just wanted to drink alone in your sitting room and listen to power ballads. Safe from having to talking to people when I’m drunk. My insides feeling warm, my mind drifting down stream. I wouldn’t wake up with vomit all over my shirt. I wouldn’t wake up with the notion that I tried to hook-up with you and got turned down. At 22 I’m living in a succession of awkward moments. This is a holding pattern, sad and embarrassed. I seem to only like hanging out with pets whenever I go to parties. I’m not a social drinker, just an idiotic slurred inconvenience, making everyone increasingly uncomfortable.

41


Decomposing/Growing My back hunched a bit more. Circles grew a bit deeper. Fingers knotted up. Breath fainter. Feet hurt all the time. Eyes heavy. I just want one more minute laying next to you in the backseat. Just shut my eyes for a bit as I peal off and smooth a bit of tape on the edge of the cash register. When I open them we’ll still be in the back seat. You can talk about time travel as long as you want and I won’t be in a future where I’m on some weird dating site talking to people who aren’t you. Even though I wish they were and maybe they do too, even if they don’t know it. If I went back to a lot of moments like this though I would never have reached that moment with you. Awkwardly tangled and content. Hopefully there’s another 42


moment with you off in the horizon, but I can’t worry about it. I can’t act like I miss you, I have to let you go. One potential future (supposedly) becomes more plausible if I do that.

43


I Make Sure My Head is Connected to My Body Everything would be perfect again as we talked on the phone. As if nothing had changed in the slightest. When I came by you were all uneasy laughter and distance. Your friend picked us up even though I didn’t really want to go. I was told repeatedly that he was a really good DJ. I watched the tree line from the back seat melt together with the dark as we careened down a country road. All narrow and large hills, no street lights. I took a hit of cheap Windexed green and you forced me to blow the harsh smoke between your lips. 44


Your friend started falling into a Xaney slump at the wheel. You were yelling and screaming, then you were driving. A police car followed us for a while. It seemed like hours. It probably wasn’t. We got back and your friend drove off. I walked you to the door. You said I could come in, but to just hold on one second. You came back with ready-made excuses and sad eyes. We held each other for a long time in the hallway to your apartment. I drove home quickly, my stomach square knots of love-sick cynicism.

45


Inside Dust mites locked lips behind drawn curtains over the drone of the neighbor’s compressor. It’s midday and I haven’t stepped outside in a while. It takes longer than I expected to get up, but when I do I realize that it’s probably going to be all right.

46


Caffeine Rotted teeth in a rotted skull where all your lingering dreams slip away. Artificially propping you up at a cubicle. Hands shake, hangovers dissipate and headaches sink their fangs into your temples.

47


Tin Can Dial Tone I saw a barn. Paint chipping, bare rotted wood underneath next to an overpass. Nothing surrounding it but tall grass, yellowing in patches. Finished cigarettes, plastic bottles, a shirt torn to pieces. I saw you strolling around by the barn. Gaunt looking and strung out, eyes melting black. Mouth ajar. Pale as milk, yellow sweat ingrained deep. Whispering odd nothings into a tin can. The string spanned some distance and ended behind the closed door of the barn. You giggled a bit. A strange look came over your features. Happiness means different things to different people. For some it’s someone next to you. For others it’s material wealth. For you it’s an old barn by an overpass that knows all your favorite jokes that no one else quite gets.

48


Honey You can call me whatever you want I guess, as long as you stick around for a bit. We could stay in bed all day, snow drifts of covers, ordering pizza. I shouldn’t be so particular and self-conscious. I should just try to be happy for once.

49


Idiot Days I texted women who will never text me back. Women who used to look at me with starry-eyed fascination that gave way to bitter disappointment. Disappointment brought on from my apprehension and irrational twenty-something idiocy. I searched through broken down old phones for numbers thought lost and gone forever. Phone numbers I’d erased in embarrassment or a self-satisfied sort of renewal. Loneliness and nostalgia walk hand-in-hand down city streets of neon rainwater jarred awake only by passing cars.

50


Sand I’m still finding memories of you in odd places of my day. Brought about by things that sort of remind me of when we were together. Like taking a vacation and still finding sand in everything you brought with you months after you return.

51


Hives Deep resounding empty jumps and howls inside my belly. Dinner’s getting colder, the circles grow deeper. Getting old is weird. Abandoned houses with boarded up windows and cracked concrete out front stare back over the imaginary abyss. Gently mumbling "stop being such a goddamn wuss all the time.�

52


Far Away from the fighting that now consumes our time together. We’ll smoke a bowl. I’ll make you Mac and Cheese. We’ll lay together and talk about how much we used to love each other.

53


Better We split three bottles of cheap red wine. My voice cracked under the weight of alcohol and nervous happy. My palms sweated against the plastic Vanilla Coke sign I stole. I put my arm around you as we walked back to your house.

54


Red Flowers A man with a gray beard to his belly holds a bouquet of bright red flowers. Must’ve been something cheaper than roses. His eyes are iced over black swimming pools in February. His feet are unsure. His shirt hangs loose and is covered in sweat stains. It is 9:00 a.m. and he’s walking quickly.

55


Ghost Town Whiskey Soot still clung to my jacket as I looked up at the stars. A mouthful of love songs that all want to escape at once, feet made of springs, bouncing two-and-fro. Cold against my cheeks warm in my belly.

56


23 I woke up with a few less phone numbers and a few new ones. Cigarette burns against a pillow and blankets bunched up between my arms. I woke up with a lot of sorrys and goodbyes. My stomach tangled up granite, my eyes red overcast. I woke up kind of late to the last of the cicada hiss and the start of September.

57


Thank You Mom Dad Tony Kim Alex Ridel Alyssa Hardin Amanda Shreve April Connor Audrey Mercer Ben Moxon Bryttan Johnson Christy Castillo Chuck Taylor Claire Mahoney Cody Gomez Cosette Daniel Dave Edwards Dillon White Ellen Krezezewski Erica Smith Frances Mackey Gabby Conti Gino Korkis Jake Zilinski Jana Miller Jenifer Raymond Jessica Lisey Jessica Sicilliano Justin Donoghue Kathleen Trombley Kristen Kliener Lauren McCoy Lauren Sibu Matt Booza Melissa Johnson Nate Tavel Nick O’Keefe Nik Hill Pat White Phil Pomber Rachel Krolczyk Robert Heady Sam Gurney Sam Scannell Sam Tinette Scott Stafford Stefanie Doetzkies Stephanie Love Tom White Tylar Williamson

58


About

Nicholas Arthur is 24 years old and currently lives in one of the many lake towns in Michigan. He is a Wayne State University graduate. Along with poetry he dabbles in music, writing and art. When he is not writing he can be found looking in the bargain bin at the record store, drinking coffee far too late at night and eating breakfast any time he pleases. He has a cat named Simba.

59


Turn static files into dynamic content formats.

Create a flipbook
Issuu converts static files into: digital portfolios, online yearbooks, online catalogs, digital photo albums and more. Sign up and create your flipbook.