The Comet - March 2022

EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE

EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE

everything will be fine

editor: Ron Evans

contributors: Sarah Sims, Cory Calhoun, Skylar Hansford, Lance Reese, Lindsay Breidenthal, Bill Griffith, Christopher F. Hart thecometmagazine@gmail.com

Cover painting by Justin Gibbens

COMET HEADQUARTERS

Greetings,

As I write this, I have three screens going — staying plugged into the coverage of the attack on Ukraine and trying to make sense of it all. As it turns out, that may have been an exercise in futility. Still doesn’t make a lot of sense. To me, or to the smart people on TV who deal with geopolitical unrest, the economy and mental stability issues on a daily basis. But it’s been fascinating to watch, I have to say.

Liberals are cheering for citizens being handed high-power rifles by the government. Or by anybody. Many conservatives are appalled at what Putin is doing, but a growing pocket of Trumpsters are already denying the severity of the attacks and even claiming Putin is just there wiping out Ukraine’s secret bio-labs (where alleged viruses are being made) as if he’s some sort of knight for humankind. Yes, that’s actually their stance. Many countries that swore to look the other way are now, sure as shit, looking. There’s a lot that can change in a week. Or a day.

When I saw the news of the attack, I was just starting to get over the initial sting of losing Mark Lanegan. As a longtime fan (obsessed, really) of The Screaming Trees and Lanegan’s solo work, this was a big fat sucker punch to the gut. But what a life of work that troubled ol’ boy left us with.

On the day of Lanegan’s passing — 2.22.22, which somehow seems significant, but it probably isn’t — Seattle radio icon KEXP played music from the Trees, his solo work, and from his many collaborations with other bands like Queens Of The Stone Age. It was like a funeral in all the ways a funeral is like a funeral. Sad, empty, beautiful, healing and final. But the overall impression I was left with at the end of the evening was - fuck. Pain can make the most amazing art.

It was no secret that Lanegan had his demons. He practically wore them on his sleeve in the words of his music. Music that we will have forever. No, it doesn’t take away his suffering. Or ours. It doesn’t heal anybody he hurt along the craggly road of his trials and tribulations. But it’s proof that art can spin gold from just about anything — if it’s honest. And that’s one word I would use to describe Lanegan’s words. Honest, as a motherfucker.

I was lucky enough to see Lanegan at a small, intimate venue in his hometown of Ellensburg just a few years ago. When I heard the show was happening I almost spilt my beer. Never thought I’d see Lanegan even visiting his old haunts, let alone performing there. And with fellow Screaming Tree, Mark Pickerel, no less. It was a surreal and beautiful evening — made only more so now, of course.

Anyway, I’m rambling and bummed out so…let’s just raise a glass, a joint, a vegan smoothie -or whatever your joy is- to all of the people that have moved you with their art. Remember, acknowledge and honor the ones that are gone. But more importantly, show some love to the ones who are still here to receive it. They’ll take it with them forever.

Happy Trails, Ron Evans Editor of The Comet

My Irish side bids you Erin go Bragh. My Welsh side says them’s fightin’ cheerses.

CORY "DAMN YOU" CALHOUN'S

Puzz e Corner

CROSSWORDS & MORE MADE EXCLUSIVELY FOR THE COMET

THE 2 ND PUZZLE OF 2022'S "MEGA-META" EVENT!

What's a mega-meta? It's basically an extra contest that ends in November—but if you want to enter it, you can get startedright now! Here's how it works: throughout 2022, solve the 6planned meta puzzles like normal. (The first part of this contest was January's meta contest puzzle.) If you choose to enter the mega-metacontest before it ends,use any or all of 2022's meta puzzle answers to solve it.Whatmight the lucky winners receive? Cool mystery prizes, plusa custom 21x21 crossword made for you by me! Get full entry and contestdetails at tinyurl.com/2022megametarules.

On to 2022's 2nd meta crossword! If you've never tried a meta crossword before, giveit a shot—and note that entering to win this puzzle doesn't obligate you to enter to win the mega meta. You can enjoy (or suffer from?) this puzzle on its own. For a chance to win this month's mystery prize, keep reading—and remember, it's OK to use Google if you need help! ... HOW TO ENTER:

1. Solve the crossword below. 2. Solve its meta puzzle (instructions at tinyurl.com/corymetas).3. Email just the meta puzzle answer for the hint (don't send the solved grid!) to cscxwords@gmail.com by 12am PT, March 24, 2022. (One submission per entrant, please.) We'll randomly pick a winner from the correct entries, and announce the winner and puzzle answers in the next issue. Good luck!

" SOLID INNER CORE

Hint: Look for an 11-letter adjective.

ACROSS

1. LGBTQ ___ (what a rainbow flag symbolizes)

6. Shark tale of 1975

10. Empty spaces

14. Submarine detector

15. Complexdwelling

16. Raison d'___ (French for "to be")

17. "OPEN," "SALE!", and "10 itemsorless"

19. Sportscaster Andrews

20. Circus sight

21. Knee part, for short

46. Torrents

48. Founded: Abbr.

50. Gravy ingredient

51. Elastic properties that allow stretched materials to snap back to normal

56. Impatient

57. Dinghy propeller

58. Gymnast Korbut

62. Linguist Chomsky

63. Rich coffee cake with a two-color swirl

66. "Please, that's ___ ask!"

67. Against

9. Peter, Paul and Mary: Abbr.

10. "Golly!"

11. Heart chambers

12. Jimmies

13. Have a feeling

18. Postpaid encl.

22. Choose

24. "Yeah, right!"

25. "Hey, we wanna come with you guys!"

26. Astin of the "Lord of the Rings" movie trilogy

22.

23. Boo-boos

Under typical conditions, the state water's in when temps are high

27. Hard to understand

30. Alien-seeking org.

31. Sour-cream-topped pancakes

32. ___ carotene

34. Bit of lemon peel

38. "___ the fields we go..."

39. Thing that gets "pulled" in order to deceive

42. Compete

43. Wool sources

45. "Bye!"

68. Throat's "punching bag"

69. After-bath powder

70. Head

71. Fix a driveway, say

1. "Hey ... over here!"

2. Automatic

3. Aware of

4. Tranquilizing weapon

5. "Able was I I saw Elba"

6. Electricity,slangily

7. -Saxon

8. Come out on top

Trigfigure

37.

ANACROSTIC CHALLENGE

Start of a play

Cleveland's lake

Pertaining to earthquakes

Pardon

Artful

"Gone " (Gillian Flynn thriller)

Rushed toward

" Holmes" (2020 Netflix mysteryfilm)

Drag one's feet

Instructions @ tinyurl.com/coryanacrostics

54.

61. Way, way off

Rustic digs

Scoundrel

Apple variety

Capt.'s superior

"I'll take that as ___"

Where It.'s at: Abbr.

SOLUTIONTOPREVIOUSCROSSWORD

SOLUTIONSTOPREVIOUS DOUBLEANAGRAMCHALLENGE

Themeofnewwords: Numbers. TEEN - E = TEN, GONE - G = ONE, FROTHY - H = FORTY, ENVIES - I = SEVEN, EXISTENT - T = SIXTEEN. LeftoverlettersE, G, H, I, and T anagraminto EIGHT

I CRAVE FEEDBACK! Thoughts? Suggestions? Lemme have it. CSCXWORDS@GMAIL.COM

"

FEATURING:@stephengibbart

Canadian artist known for work with Trippie Redd, Hope Tala and others.

ZEN & THE ART OF SKETCHING

By Ron Evans

Sketching is often a means to an end, to some degree. A rough outline of an idea that occurred to you at the coffee shop. A loose blueprint for your backyard deck. A quick roadmap for a complex graphic design project, later to be fleshed out. But sketching itself is its own art form and one that is not only artistically beneficial, but often therapeutically useful as well.

“Many people making art, but particularly people who define themselves as artists, may be aware of entering a state of ‘flow’ when drawing, painting or creating. It is that sense of getting lost in your process. You are less aware of what is happening around you. Your body is calm and focused and your mind is engrossed in the lines you are creating or the strokes you are making and everything around you fades or disappears. Drawing and making art activate the reward pathways in your brain that activate flow, lower levels of cortisol, a hormone that helps the body respond to stress. Even when the idea of drawing can be intimidating to individuals who don’t consider themselves artists, the pleasure of engaging in drawing or the pleasure of creating something can increase levels of hormones in the brain which improve happiness including dopamine, endorphins, and serotonin.” says Michelle Ferber, a local Licensed Mental Health Counselor with an MS in Art Therapy.

Henry Stinson and Steven Reddy are two stylistically different artists I have seen out and about, peacefully sketching and illus-

trating the world they see. I reached out to each of them to chat about their love of sketching, especially on location.

Talk briefly about your history with art and what you’re currently up to.

STINSON: Currently I am finishing the work on my studio, insulating, drywall, plumbing, electrical, not in that order. My history: I started out sculpting, working in clay and metal. I moved on to figure drawing. My first figure drawing class was at WSU, what a waste of tuition, no instruction from a tenured professor. It was a high priced open session.

I started going to open figure sessions in Seattle with a buddy of mine (Alan Rushing) in an attempt to teach myself how to draw. We would sometimes draw up to twelve hours a day at open sessions. You’ve got to put the miles in to get better at anything in life.

In 1990, I found my painting teacher, Ron Lukas. I discovered him by attending his open figure drawing session and I was blown away by his work. I knew that he could answer my questions about painting that no one else could. Ron taught Ukrainian Impressionism. It was in my blood my grandmother’s family immigrated from there at the turn of the century. I studied under Ron four nights a week for three almost four years, he made me what I am today. I am blessed to call him friend.

REDDY: I’ve kept a daily sketchbook

Henry Stinson

FEATURING HENRY STINSON AND STEVEN REDDY

journal since high school. In 2010 I met some “Urban Sketchers” at the Gage Academy of Art drawing jam. Until then my sketches had been rather undisciplined and eclectic. Regularly drawing on location gave my work a focus and a shortened time frame for each drawing, which made them less fussy and precious. After a year of sketching in Southeast Asia I published several illustrated journals and the how-to book Everyday Sketching and Drawing.

When and how did sketching or drawing on location enter the picture for you?

REDDY: Drawing with the Seattle Urban Sketchers helped me to draw based on observation and also gave me a finite time frame, so when the session was over, the drawing was done and I moved on without belaboring it. My sketching changed from being about the end product, to being about the process of drawing in the moment.

STINSON: Well Alan and I started drawing on location to supplement our figure drawing, going to coffee shops and bars on Capitol Hill in the 80s. Drawing was our life, we pushed each other to go farther, faster in the medium of drawing. We were a great duo.

What are some of the unique aspects of sketching what’s in front of you versus pulling solely from the imagination - or drawing as a means to construct a more finished work?

STINSON: I love drawing on location, training my hand and eyes to work together as a unit. An added bonus is building my visual memory, so when I work from my imagination I can flesh my ideas out fuller.

REDDY: Drawing on location for so many years has made me less likely to draw from my imagination. My imaginative drawings don’t contain the specificity of a drawing based on observation. I occasionally publish graphic novel style memories, dreams, reflections and conceptual pieces in my books, but the bulk of my work serves as illustrations for a series of very personal memoirs.

Do you find therapeutic benefits of sitting in a public space and capturing the world around you?

STINSON: Yes! I am never bored when I have my sketchbook with me.

REDDY: Absolutely. The meditative aspect of observing the same location for a couple of hours is one of its many allures. To be completely lost in the contours, patterns, textures, colors, shapes and geometry of a complex scene can be immersive to where my ego drops out and I’m surprised that hours have passed and the drawing is finished.

What are some of your favorite places or subjects to sketch?

STINSON: Waiting room, sporting events, airports, coffee shops, public pools are all

Steven Reddy

my muse. People first and foremost — I get ideas from the people I sketch for future paintings, the clothes, style, hair, etc.

REDDY: Because I draw slowly with close observation, I rarely draw moving targets. People, dogs, birds, boats, vehicles, don’t hold still, so my drawings tend to portray somewhat of a ghost world, unpopulated and still. To avoid overthinking my choice of subjects, I’ve lately been setting my phone alarm to random times and committing to drawing whatever is in front of me when the alarm goes off.

What are your favorite materials to sketch with? Are you always carrying them in case a scene you want to capture arises?

STINSON: I always draw in pen in my sketchbook, even when I paint. I never use pencil in my sketchbook, it smears. Also you can erase, which is highly overrated. It takes courage to draw in pen, never fear making a mark. “Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid.” ~ Basil

King

When I paint I use watercolor and gouache, and I carry all my sketching supplies in a wheeled backpack that in its former life was a bowling bag. No joke.

REDDY: I’m never without my materi-

als which are very simple and compact so I can carry them in my pocket. Uniball pens, a tiny watercolor kit, brushes and my sketchbook are all I need. My most recent publication, Walks with Willa, is about exploring north Seattle with my new labrador. Because she’s always moving and we walk all day, many of the drawings in that book were drawn from photographs. During Covid I drew a lot through the windshield of my parked car.

Do you often take these drawings and flesh them out into more finished projects?

STINSON: Yes, I will use them for inspiration for a oil painting. No, I don’t work up the sketch into a larger painting itself. It gets me started looking for a model or set to fit my vision that the sketch started.

REDDY: The only time I do any planning sketches are for the graphic novel style narratives. The Urban Sketches are begun and finished on location. Even if I resort to drawing from a photograph I don’t let myself draw for longer than a few hours and I hold myself to the same time constraints, as if I was drawing on location.

Are your drawings compiled and archived in any way? Do you flip through old sketches from time to time?

STINSON: Ha, ha! Don’t make me laugh. Archived, compiled, all loose sketches go in a large drawer in my flat file, sketchbooks get thrown on a very large pile of older sketchbooks. Although I can tell newer books from older ones in that the newer ones have stickers of my art on their cover. Sometimes I do go back and look through my sketches, but that can be a wonderful or dreadful experience depending upon my mood.

REDDY: All of my drawings are kept chronological in their sketchbooks. On my bookshelf are hundreds of 9 x 12 hardbound sketchbooks. The only time I look through them later is for scanning them to be printed as books or when somebody contacts me about purchasing a drawing. Since I post almost everything when it’s finished, it’s simpler for me to flip through Instagram to see a previous drawing.

Any suggestions for people who are looking to get out there and experience the Zen of sketching for themselves?

STINSON: When I taught figure drawing in Seattle, one of the things that I would have my students do is draw on location. I would have them bring their large drawing pad (18”x 24”) so that they could not hide. It helped them get over their fears of working in public. Work from love never fear.

It’s also good to have a partner in crime when you’re beginning this adventure, someone to support, and in turn be supportive when you need it.

I’ve made so many ugly drawings to get where I am now, don’t let that stop you in your quest to record your truth. Acknowledge the effort you put in, a bad day painting is better than not painting. Each minute you invest puts you further down the art road towards your goals/visions.

REDDY: My book, Everyday Sketching and Drawing is available everywhere and has hundreds of tips and tricks for inspiring artists to go out and draw from location.

But most good advice about drawing on location boils down to drawing for the love of drawing. Not for the final reward, not for the accolades and pats on the back from other people, not through a competitive streak where you want to be as good as somebody else’s work that you’ve seen — but drawing for the love of being absorbed in the moment in a specific location, thinking of nothing but what’s in front of you. C

Steven Reddy

Henry Stinson

EVELINE FIRSTAPPEARINGINDUBLINERS

She sat at the window watching the evening invade the avenue. Her head was leaned against the window curtains and in her nostrils was the odour of dusty cretonne. She was tired.

Few people passed. The man out of the last house passed on his way home; she heard his footsteps clacking along the concrete pavement and afterwards crunching on the cinder path before the new red houses. One time there used to be a field there in which they used to play every evening with other people’s children. Then a man from Belfast bought the field and built houses in it—not like their little brown houses but bright brick houses with shining roofs. The children of the avenue used to play together in that field—the Devines, the Waters, the Dunns, little Keogh the cripple, she and her brothers and sisters. Ernest, however, never played: he was too grown up. Her father used often to hunt them in out of the field with his blackthorn stick; but usually little Keogh used to keep nix and call out when he saw her father coming. Still they seemed to have been rather happy then. Her father was not so bad then; and besides, her mother was alive. That was a long time ago; she and her brothers and sisters were all grown up; her mother was dead. Tizzie Dunn was dead, too, and the Waters had gone back to England. Everything changes. Now she was going to go away like the others, to leave her home.

Home! She looked round the room, reviewing all its familiar objects which she had dusted once a week for so many years, wondering where on earth all the dust came from. Perhaps she would never see again those familiar objects from which she had never dreamed of being divided. And yet during all those years she had never found out the name of the priest whose yellowing photograph hung on the wall above the broken harmonium beside the coloured print of the promises made to Blessed Margaret Mary Alacoque. He had been a school friend of her father. Whenever he showed the photograph to a visitor her father used to pass it with a casual word:

“He is in Melbourne now.”

She had consented to go away, to leave her home. Was that wise? She tried to weigh each side of the question. In her home anyway she had shelter and food; she had those whom she had known all her life about her. Of course she had to work hard, both in the house and at business. What would they say of her in the Stores when they found out that she had run away with a fellow? Say she was a fool, perhaps; and her place would be filled up by advertisement Miss Gavan would be glad. She had always had an edge on her, especially whenever there were people listening.

“Miss Hill, don’t you see these ladies are waiting?”

“Look lively, Miss Hill, please.”

She would not cry many tears at leaving the Stores.

But in her new home, in a distant unknown country, it would not be like that. Then she would be married—she, Eveline. People would treat her with respect then. She would not be treated as her mother had been. Even now, though she was over nineteen, she sometimes felt herself in danger of her father’s violence. She knew it was that

BY JAMES JOYCE

that had given her the palpitations. When they were growing up he had never gone for her like he used to go for Harry and Ernest, because she was a girl; but latterly he had begun to threaten her and say what he would do to her only for her dead mother’s sake. And now she had nobody to protect her. Ernest was dead and Harry, who was in the church decorating business, was nearly always down somewhere in the country. Besides, the invariable squabble for money on Saturday nights had begun to weary her unspeakably. She always gave her entire wages—seven shillings—and Harry always sent up what he could but the trouble was to get any money from her father. He said she used to squander the money, that she had no head, that he wasn’t going to give her his hard-earned money to throw about the streets, and much more, for he was usually fairly bad of a Saturday night. In the end he would give her the money and ask her had she any intention of buying Sunday’s dinner. Then she had to rush out as quickly as she could and do her marketing, holding her black leather purse tightly in her hand as she elbowed her way through the crowds and returning home late under her load of provisions. She had hard work to keep the house together and to see that the two young children who had been left to her charge went to school regularly and got their meals regularly. It was hard work—a hard life—but now that she was about to leave it she did not find it a wholly undesirable life.

She was about to explore another life with Frank. Frank was very kind, manly, openhearted. She was to go away with him by the night-boat to be his wife and to live with him in Buenos Ayres where he had a home waiting for her. How well she remembered the first time she had seen him; he was lodging in a house on the main road where she used to visit. It seemed a few weeks ago. He was standing at the gate, his peaked cap pushed back on his head and his hair tumbled forward over a face of bronze. Then they had come to know each other. He used to meet her outside the Stores every evening and see her home. He took her to see The Bohemian Girl and she felt elated as she sat in an unaccustomed part of the theatre with him. He was awfully fond of music and sang a little. People knew that they were courting and, when he sang about the lass that loves a sailor, she always felt pleasantly confused. He used to call her Poppens out of fun. First of all it had been an excitement for her to have a fellow and then she had begun to like him. He had tales of distant countries. He had started as a deck boy at a pound a month on a ship of the Allan Line going out to Canada. He told her the names of the ships he had been on and the names of the different services. He had sailed through the Straits of Magellan and he told her stories of the terrible Patagonians. He had fallen on his feet in Buenos Ayres, he said, and had come over to the old country just for a holiday. Of course, her father had found out the affair and had forbidden her to have anything to say to him.

“I know these sailor chaps,” he said.

One day he had quarrelled with Frank and after that she had to meet her lover secretly.

The evening deepened in the avenue. The white of two letters in her lap grew indistinct. One was to Harry; the other was to her father. Ernest had been her favourite but she liked Harry too. Her father was becoming old lately, she noticed; he would miss her. Sometimes he could be very nice. Not long before, when she had been laid up for a day, he had read her out a ghost story and made toast for her at the fire. Another day, when their mother was alive, they had all gone for a picnic to the Hill of Howth. She remembered her father putting on her mother’s bonnet to make the children laugh.

Her time was running out but she continued to sit by the window, leaning her head against the window curtain, inhaling the odour of dusty cretonne. Down far in the

avenue she could hear a street organ playing. She knew the air. Strange that it should come that very night to remind her of the promise to her mother, her promise to keep the home together as long as she could. She remembered the last night of her mother’s illness; she was again in the close dark room at the other side of the hall and outside she heard a melancholy air of Italy. The organ-player had been ordered to go away and given sixpence. She remembered her father strutting back into the sickroom saying:

“Damned Italians! coming over here!”

As she mused the pitiful vision of her mother’s life laid its spell on the very quick of her being—that life of commonplace sacrifices closing in final craziness. She trembled as she heard again her mother’s voice saying constantly with foolish insistence:

“Derevaun Seraun! Derevaun Seraun!”

She stood up in a sudden impulse of terror. Escape! She must escape! Frank would save her. He would give her life, perhaps love, too. But she wanted to live. Why should she be unhappy? She had a right to happiness. Frank would take her in his arms, fold her in his arms. He would save her.

She stood among the swaying crowd in the station at the North Wall. He held her hand and she knew that he was speaking to her, saying something about the passage over and over again. The station was full of soldiers with brown baggages. Through the wide doors of the sheds she caught a glimpse of the black mass of the boat, lying in beside the quay wall, with illumined portholes. She answered nothing. She felt her cheek pale and cold and, out of a maze of distress, she prayed to God to direct her, to show her what was her duty. The boat blew a long mournful whistle into the mist. If she went, tomorrow she would be on the sea with Frank, steaming towards Buenos Ayres. Their passage had been booked. Could she still draw back after all he had done for her? Her distress awoke a nausea in her body and she kept moving her lips in silent fervent prayer.

A bell clanged upon her heart. She felt him seize her hand:

“Come!”

All the seas of the world tumbled about her heart. He was drawing her into them: he would drown her. She gripped with both hands at the iron railing.

“Come!”

No! No! No! It was impossible. Her hands clutched the iron in frenzy. Amid the seas she sent a cry of anguish!

“Eveline! Evvy!”

He rushed beyond the barrier and called to her to follow. He was shouted at to go on but he still called to her. She set her white face to him, passive, like a helpless animal. Her eyes gave him no sign of love or farewell or recognition. C

EVERYTHING IS FINE.

PERFECTIONISM, MY MADWOMAN

BY VERUCA SALTY

CW: trauma, gaslighting, self-shame

I just finished reading the book “Burnout” by Emily & Amelia Nagoski, and woah. I can’t recommend it enough. It is definitely geared toward women and female identified folks, but honestly I think everyone could gain something from it. The last few chapters are absolute fire. They bring up this concept of “the madwoman” which is actually based around the 1944 classic film, “Gaslight,” starring Charles Boyer and Ingrid Bergman. The film title comes from the constant dimming and flickering of the gaslights in the film, which were used to make Ingrid’s character question her reality and sanity. The phrase “to gaslight” someone - to purposely drive someone to insanity by way of psychological manipulation and emotional abuse - was derived from this film.

For our purposes we can call it “the madperson.” This madperson is our inner critic, the voice inside that berates and gaslights you, tells you why you’re not enough and never will be. I’m just assuming we all have one of those? Maybe you’re healthy and don’t have horrible internal monologues that haunt your ev-

ery move? If so, congratulations! You’ve got a good brain! I, for one, have a very toxic madperson. I used to think of it as a demon, a curse, and sometimes as a ghost that haunted me. That’s not too far from how it feels. My madperson suffers from toxic perfectionism. I envision mine as a vicious old woman. She sits back and watches my every move, points out every single time that I mess up, that I come up short, that I don’t give it my all, and critiques anything and everything I do that might make me feel like a failure. And this bitch works overtime. I can’t even go to sleep without her reminding me of something that I should be ashamed of or something that I didn’t do exactly right or that I could have done better, etc. I recognize that mine is probably more intense than others. But growing up in toxicity, neglect and abuse, well my madperson has had a lot of years of training.

I’m realizing, with the help and insight from reading this book, that I’m not just going to instantly get rid of this old nagging witch. This thing is years - nay, decades - in the making. It’s going to take a long time to come out of it. The first step will not be me suddenly being perfectly kind to myself (there’s that word ‘perfect’ again). The first step will be to start showing love and kindness to people outside of

myself – because it’s way easier to notice it when it’s not within you. I get plenty of practice with my kids, luckily, because.. surprise! They’re human! What’s interesting is when I witness my children not being perfect, I congratulate them for it. I praise them, I tell them how wonderfully human they are. “Look at you not being perfect and still being worthy of love and acceptance.” I can see it so clearly in them that perfectionism does not equal love, it does not equal worthiness, it does not equal good enough. Just being themselves is enough. So I practice, and I notice how it feels to have someone else be NOT perfect. And honestly it’s pretty easy. Then, once I have enough practice outside of myself, I will start to do the inner work. I will start to have compassion for myself when I fall short or when I don’t live up to my own expectations or when I don’t do it just right on the first try. I’ll allow myself to be a beginner because I have never given myself a chance to be anything less than perfect.

The funniest part of it all is that I can see so clearly that it doesn’t matter how many goals I reach, how many adversities I face and come out on top of, how many times I was so close to giving up but chose not to; it was never enough for her. I’ll never be able to satisfy this nagging perfection-

ist in the background criticizing me and tearing me apart. So the issue isn’t that I wasn’t perfect enough, the issue is that my madperson inner critic is insatiable. I don’t need to please her better, I need to shift the power and control she has over me. And I have a plan... baby steps. Always baby steps with this big life trauma healing type work.

Step 1 - I’m going to just notice when perfectionism comes up, notice what it feels like to see her without judgment or fear.

Step 2 - I’m going to have more love and understanding for everyone outside of myself when they fall short of perfect.

Step 3 - Eventually... years, maybe decades down the road, I’ll start having compassion for myself.

And that’s enough for now. Baby steps.

This old, witchy, toxic perfectionism hag can suck it. I’m coming for her... slowly, but oh so surely. She’s ruled enough of my life; she doesn’t get to have me forever. In the wise words of Sarah from Labyrinth, “you have no power over me!” C

COLLAPSE PUNCH

Collapse Gallery in Wenatchee will be treating you to a group exhibition brought to you by their neighbors to the South, PUNCH Gallery in Thorp WA. And likewise, PUNCH Gallery will be hosting a group show of Collapse Gallery peeps there. Reciprocity never smelled so sweet!

From its 10-year history as a gallery in Seattle, to its current iteration as a rural arts collective, PUNCH has worked to promote visual dialogue between urban and rural art communities. In an ongoing effort to promote artwork that is thoughtful, fresh and contemporary coupled with a desire to further bridge urban rural connections, PUNCH Projects supports the cultural vibrancy of rural art scenes by spurring creative awareness, cross-cultural engagement and economic vitality.

For this exciting switcheroo, Collapse welcome these amazing artists from PUNCH :

Renee Adams – sculpture

Justin Colt Beckman – photo-based mixed media, cowboy art, spaghetti westerns

Howard Barlow – sculpture, mixed media

Will Bow – painting, sculpture

Justin Gibbens - painting, natural science illustration

As promised, a survey of work by Collapse artists will be on exhibition at PUNCH Gallery. With Amber Zimmerman, Lindsay Breidenthal, Alessandra Piro, Chad Yenney, and Michelle Anderst. Should you find yourself in Thorp this March, be sure to stop by and check it out!

Collapse Contemporary Art Gallery

115 S Wenatchee Ave, Wenatchee, WA Hours: 12-7pm Fridays and Saturdays

Opening Reception at Collapse:

First Friday, March 4, 4-9 pm

Synopsis and images provided by Collapse Gallery

WENATCHEE GALLERY AND THORP

PUNCH COLLAPSE

THORP GALLERY SWAP ARTISTS

THE ECLECTIC ART OF TOBACCO CARDS

By Ron Evans

Commercial art and illustration has come a long way in terms of being acknowledged for its artistic merit - separate from its impact as its intended use. The artists that created these works have been somewhat less acknowledged. There are old catalogs featuring hundreds of intricately crafted hand-drawings, gouache paintings and etchings depicting anything from sewing machines, automobiles and rifles, to hamburgers, lingerie and cocktail menus. Who made those? In most cases, there’s no way to even begin to find out. The artists were hired. They made stuff. They got paid -usually in peanuts-, and they went away. Sure these names lived in some Rolodex (or whatever existed before the invention of the Rolodex by Zephyr America in 1956. I looked it up.) on some desk at some businesses at some point, but preserving these unsung craftspeople for posterity was hardly a priority. Or even a thought.

One of the legions of industries of these incredible but nameless artists was the world of tobacco cards — collectible trading cards that came inserted with each pack of cigarettes. In the early days of cigarette packing (long before the invention of the hardpack) tobacco companies were hearing far too many complaints about their fine, cancer causing products not faring well in one’s pocket or purse. Too flimsy. So…they began inserting a plain white card into the packaging to add a bit of rigidity without adding too much to their shipping costs. You know the little white index card under your Twinkies? Same idear. And admit it…you scraped your Twinkie cards. It’s only shameful if you deny it.

In 1887, one shrewd business-minded fella at US tobacco co., Allen & Ginter, thought that since they were going to the trouble to insert the cards they may as well print some neat shit on them. Ad-

vertisements at first. Then random celebrities like sports players, stars of the theatre, famous Indian chiefs and pinups. But in 1893, cancer merchants, John Player & Sons (if you don’t recognize these names that’s because at this point in time there were over 300 tobacco companies, unlike the 3 or 4 giants we all know today) put a twist on the printed card idea when they printed their first full collectible series of picture cards, “Castles And Abbeys.”

From there other cigarette companies followed suit and soon there were not just cards of the stars of the Chicago Cubs, but the whole team. Entire sets of movie stars, royalty from far off lands, oddities and freaks, and legends of the Old West. You only got one card per pack so if you wanted the complete collection (most were from 50-100 cards in all) you best get to smokin’ them sticks. It was a marketing scheme for the ages. These companies knew this would sell more packs to smokers, but they couldn’t have foreseen how many collectors would buy the packs just for the prize. And since they were buying them…well, they may as well smoke the damn things, right? And smoke they did. Sort of like those waxy, stale pieces of bubble gum that always came with each pack of collector trading cards (which were an evolution of cigarette cards) that nobody really wanted. But it was there so...chompy chompy.

And with the invention of the bigger, less cancery trading cards - the tobacco card faded away by the 1950s.

The most valuable tobacco card sold to date, is the T206 Honus Wagner (Pittsburg Pirate - shown below) that sold for well over 3 million in 2016. And while many of the artists and photographers who created the images are documented - the overwhelming majority of these creators’ identities are unknown. Lost to time. No respect I tells ya. C

A MILE IN MY SHOES

By Bob Stowell

“Dwarfs are still the butt of jokes. It’s one of the last bastions of acceptable prejudice.” ~Peter

Dinklage

St. Patrick’s day used to be one of my favorite holidays. My love for Irish music, the parades, the parties, the festive spirit. But that joyous spirit wore off as the years went by. As one of the few people with dwarfism in our community, it turned into the occasional outburst of “HEY WEEMAN!!! Let me put ya up on my shoulders and you can be my lucky Leprechaun.” The drunken men that would chase me around the pub, trying to lift me up and the ladies who’d laugh at that behavior. Those moments became the downfall to what could be a

great time.

What is it that draws so many to continue to make people with dwarfism the acceptable form of harassment and prejudice? There is a minority within the minority of little people that seem to enjoy that type of humor. M***** Wrestling. Dwarf tossing. Mini-this and wee-man that... Little people that find no problem in selling-out on their size. And I get it. I’ve been there myself. Before having kids and during my drunken younger years, I had no problem going on stage and performing for others at the cost of my dignity. From Spokane to Wenatchee, many people would see a drunk, naked M***** fall around on stage while performing with a theatrical rock show. Why? Mostly for a sense of acceptance. I mean, if you’re gonna point and laugh at me, it might as well be for a reason.

Now that I’ve grown, settled down and become a responsible father to my children, I realize how damaging my actions were to the progress and success of others with dwarfism.

I strongly believe that another factor to why LP’s (little people) choose the route of comic relief is that it’s very hard to find employment when you’re short.

My son and I, who share the same type of dwarfism, have been passed over for jobs, only to see our friend or another — sometimes less qualified person — get the job. Where as my average height daughter could find a job with little to no issue. A large percentage of the employment I’ve had came with a strong reference or recommendation from a friend.

I can’t blame the management. How often from birth to death do we hear “Your child is so tall and handsome (beautiful).” Society has placed this distinction that height equals quality. So from where I’m standing, I can see many excuses to why LP’s look to acting and comical arts.

You might have noticed in the news recently that Games of Thrones star, Peter Dinklage stirred a lot of emotions when he called out Disney’s Snow White remake. “You’re still making that fucking backwards story about seven dwarfs living in a cave together. Have I done nothing to advance the cause from my soap box?”

He was trying to make the point that Disney is continuing to reinforce society’s prejudices. Even if they had seven real dwarf actors (not CGI), those actors are agreeing to take on demeaning roles that perpetuate this negative attitude.

Without respect, there cannot be equality. Society has come a long way from the days of sideshows and jesters. People with dwarfism have made some major strides that don’t involve comical themes. There are doctors, lawyers, teachers, mechanics, and the list goes on. By no means, am I putting down little people who want to follow their Hollywood dreams to become actors and actresses. Meredith Eaton, Nic Novicki and many others have made a great career in acting without taking roles that were based on their dwarfism. But humanity is lost when people are referred to as adjectives, instead of their real names.

At this point, you’ve probably noticed that I won’t type out the M-word. And out of respect for all LP’s, I try not to. If you haven’t figured out what the M-word is, it rhymes with Gidget. The term comes from ‘midge’ which refers

to a small fly. I never hear it used in a way that makes me feel warm inside. It’s very dehumanizing. As unwelcome as that term is today, it was once used in the title to the association that Billy Barty had organized in 1957. The association was assembled so that other people with dwarfism could meet and mingle. It was an opportunity in that, for a moment, they would feel companionship amongst others. Since then, they have changed the name of the group to Little People of America. What started as a small group of 21 actors and actresses, has grown to over 7,500 members across America. And every year they hold a national conference filled with family type activities, medical forums, workshops, dances and other social activities.

Going back to the words of Peter Dinklage when he accepted the Golden Globe award in 2012 for his role in Game of Thrones — at the end of his speech, Dinklage mentions a friend he’s thinking of, Martin Henderson, from New Zealand who was a dwarf that had been tossed by a drunken England rugby fan. The fan and the English rugby team had just been to a dwarf tossing event held at the local pub in Somerset, UK. Martin was out celebrating his 37th birthday when he had stepped outside for a cigarette. The rugby fan came up to Martin, picked him up and dropped him on the ground. Martin suffered serious injuries that left him wheelchair bound and in 2016, he passed away at the age of 42. I tell you this, because it happens.

People, often men - often drunk, will try to pick me up. They aren’t expecting my 4’4” body to weigh as much as it does, because they usually fall, dropping me. By whatever powers that be, I’ve never been seriously injured. This, and so many other reasons (don’t get me started on public restrooms), will cause a high level of anxiety in me and other LP’s whenever we step out. From childhood to adulthood. Most of us with dwarfism just want to live our lives. We’re not here just for your comic relief. That’s not to say I don’t have a sense of humor. There’s a huge difference when you’re laughing at someone vs. laughing with someone. Such as laughing at me and my son as he’s standing on top of the shopping cart to reach top shelf items vs. laughing at this picture of my son and I having our annual passing of the Lucky Charms.

Happy St. Paddy’s Day!

LOCALLY WRITTEN POETRY

THE WRECKAGE

By Jo Fine Bow

I bleed out an ocean of myself for you, and when the time came to clean up and move on seeing the wreckage and depths of my soul I poured out for you compared to the mere drops you gave to me I know even when I was fully yours you were never fully mine

In distant lands you selfishly held my hand while I lost moments of life memories of things that I never breathed into existence, you professed to me that my body was purging what was no longer needed, your prophecy was right because I was purging you.

FACTORY OF SINS

By Carrie Casio

One by one they come down the conveyor belt. Evenly, down that noisy line. I pick each one of them up, hold it, think a moment.

If it speaks to me, I shove it into my pocket. Otherwise it continues down the line. That noisy line. into the arms of its proper owner. Sins are so personal.

FOG

By Ron Evans

The fog assures me you are still within reach. If I can’t see that you are not still there, you must surely still be there.

I stare into the mist with a hopeful ache. I picture you emerging from the dense, heavy grayness. I fight a childish smile as I anticipate you fading into view. Returning.

Then the smile subsides. I remember.

Cracks of miserable sunlight pierce my beautiful, precious cloud of deceit. The glimmering, deep blue, sharp edge of the sea begins to appear. “No. Hold on. Don’t lift.” I beg of the mist.

It hears me. It pities me.

With a sigh of cold, salty sea spray - the mist settles back in. The spears of light blur, then dim. The color of the shore morphs back into a patchwork of gray. That glorious gray.

And once again, I can see you. Out there.

Through the fog.

SATURDAY, MARCH 5 AT 2 PM – 5 PM The Skiffs at Tsillan Cellars Tsillan Cellars & Sorrento’s Ristorante in Chelan

THURSDAY, MARCH 10, 2022 AT 5 PM – 7 PM Live Music: Hans Joseph Hessburg at Tipsy Canyon Winery in Chelan

SATURDAY, MARCH 12, 2022 AT 9:55 AM Ariadne auf Naxos - The Met: Live in HD Icicle Creek Center for the Arts

SUNDAY, MARCH 13, 2022 AT 7 PM Da “Are You MADD Yet” Tour at Old Skool’s in Ellensburg

SATURDAY, MARCH 19, 2022 AT 8 PM – 9:30 PM Taste Chelan Comedy Show w/ Andrew Sleighter @ Sigillo Cellars in Chelan

THURSDAY, MARCH 24, 2022 AT 5 PM – 7 PM Live Music: Seth Garrido at Tipsy Canyon Winery in Chelan

SATURDAY, MARCH 26, 2022 AT 9 PM – 11 PM Ball Bag & The Nightmares 31 N 1st Ave, Yakima

Wanna plug your kickass event? Send it our way at thecometmagazine@gmail.com

ARTBEAT

“It’s not where you take things from, it’s where you take them to.”

Hello you atomic wonders and typical, everyday miracles! Did you know that you and I are made of the same 6 elements, more or less, than every living thing on earth? We are the same cast of recycled materials that have been knocking around our atmosphere for billions of years. It’s mind blowing that the same stuff can shape-shift into a bazillion different forms and still come up with something unique. This is encouraging to think about through the lens of creativity, especially if you take perverse pleasure in telling yourself what an unoriginal hack you are.

As Jim Jarmusch says in Movie Maker Magazine #53,“Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery - celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: ‘It’s not where you take things from - it’s where you take them to.’” Thank you, Jim, for embracing both the futility and the beauty.

In other news - I’m happy to report that the NCW Arts Alliance has made its name official - I know, you’ve been waiting on the edge of your seat. It is a relief to the handful of dedicated people who make up the steering committee...like finally picking out what you’re wearing to the dance. Contact info, links, and a QR code for the Art Beat Newsletter have been updated and we’d love to hear from you! If you have info relevant to the creative community across North Central Washington regarding an event, opportunity, or advocacy effort, please reach out! NCWAA is a fledgling organization, working to provide better access to experiences that feed the creative mind and inspire independent thinking for collective benefit.

Email us: arts@ncwarts.org or sign up for the Art Beat newsletter at eepurl.com/hL4KKf

UPCOMING EVENTS

MARCH

3 - Environmental Film & Speaker Series: Expedition Reclamation - Wenatchee Valley Museum - 7-9 PM

HYPROV: improv under hypnosisNumerica PAC, 7:30pm

FIRST FRIDAY

4 - First Friday Art Walk

PUNCH Projects ‘Bait and Switch’ at Collapse Contemporary Gallery and PUNCH projects, a rural art collective in Thorp, exchange art!, 4-9pm

‘Divine Feminine’ - Opening Reception: March 4, 5-7pm - Gallery One - Ellensburg

2022 Members Show - Two Rivers Gallery5-8pm

Scott Bailey, ‘Accretions’- MAC Gallery, open until 7PM

Tumbleweed Shop hosts Brenda McGowan, open until 7PM

42nd Annual Regional High School Art ShowWenatchee Valley Museum 5-8PM

Brooke Ivey Studio - Cafe Mela, open until 8PM

Casual Science Illustrators - Lemolo Cafe & Deli, open until 8PM

Olivia O. - Ye Olde Bookshoppe, open until 8

5 - ‘Bait and Switch’ at PUNCH ProjectsPUNCH & Collapse Gallery exchange Art!, Satur-

days 12-4PM - Thorp,WA

6 - Bridge and Wolak - Wenatchee Community Concerts, 7PM - WHS

10 - One Night in Memphis - Numerica PAC, 7:30PM

11-12 - Cold Winter Nights Comedy, Kyle Kinane - Numerica PAC, 7:30PM

12 - April 23 - ‘My Ancestors Taught Me’ - Confluence Gallery - Twisp

18,19,20 - People of Our Past: Remembering the Appleyard Explosion of 1974 - Wenatchee Valley Museum - 6-7:30PM

26 - Cold Winter Nights Comedy, Jay JurdenNumerica PAC, 7:30PM

John Denver Musical Tribute - Wenatchee Community Concerts, 7PM - WHS

OPPORTUNITIES & DEADLINES

March

1 – 5 - Leavenworth Summer Theater ,Videos Accepted. Audition videos and paperwork will be accepted beginning March 1 through the evening of March 5. We will not accept early submissions.

7 - Employment/Temporary Podcast DirectorStory Board Podcast, see listing through Artist Trust

Employment/ Adjunct Faculty Instructor, Visual Arts - at Columbia Basin College, see listing through Artist Trust

3,10 - Office Hours: Grant writing help - Artist Trust via phone or zoom, 10-2PM

6 - Mini Confab: Your Art Legacy, Life After Death Gallery One, 5-6:30pm – ZOOM

- Jean Luc Godard

ARTS-CENTERED RESOURCES, OPPORTUNITIES AND EVENTS IN NCW

BY LINDSAY BREIDENTHAL

9 - Life Drawing Session - Collapse Contemporary Gallery - 5:30-7:30PM

Pricing Your Artwork - Gallery One, 6-7PM - ZOOM

12,19 - Clay Modeling WorkshopWenatchee River Institute -1-3PM - Leavenworth

14 - Monsterlove Masks: Paper Mâché WorkshopWenatchee Valley Museum , 10AM - 1PM

16 - NCW Writers Group - NCWR Library -,4 - 6 PM

23 - Collapse Contemporary Gallery - Life Drawing Session, 5:30-7

25 - Poetry Podium - at Collapse Gallery, doors open at 4, reading starts at 4:30 **poetry podium USED to be on the last Wednesday, it will now be held on the last Friday of each month at Collapse

APRIL

1 - Write on the River - 2022 Writer’s Contest deadline

LINKS & RESOURCES

*Artist Trust - https://artisttrust.org/

*Arts WA - https://www.arts.wa.gov/

*Icicle Center For the Arts - https://icicle.org/findevents/

*Methow Arts - http://www.methowarts.org/

*Mighty Tieton Warehouse - https://www.tietonarts. org/events

*Wenatchee Valley Symphony Orchestra- https:// wenatcheesymphony.org/

*Call for Entry (CaFE) - https://artist.callforentry.org/ calendar.phtml

‘Hello Chukar’ by Cyndi Noyd - Casual Science Illustrators showing at Lemolo

FIFTY SHADES OF FUCKED UP THE CASE AGAINST EL JAMES AND THE DANGERS OF THE FIFTY SHADES TRILOGY

By Skylar Hansford

Ihave started, stopped, deleted, and restarted this column so many times today. Mainly, because it seemed a little harsh to begin an article with “fuck Christian Grey.” After giving myself time to collect my thoughts and re-examine my approach to this article I realized that, in saying that - I was wrong.

What I meant to say was: fuck EL James.

It is a constant surprise to me that, to this day, long after the debut of EL James’ Fifty Shades of Grey franchise, that I am still asked for my thoughts and opinions on it as a sex and kink educator. But it’s downright terrifying to read messages in my inbox (email and social media) where it becomes clear people are putting themselves and/or others in harm’s way in the name of acting out their Fifty Shades fantasy, with little to no regard for the complex nature of kink or BDSM.

So here is my opinion: EL James and her Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy did for kink and BDSM what Jaws did for sharks and beach-goers alike.

The damage done by Jaws had to do with an inaccurate portrayal of the behavior of a great white shark, preying on a primal fear of humans. The damage done by Fifty Shades is directly tied to its inaccurate portrayal of ongoing consent, BDSM, dom/sub dynamics, and risk awareness — as it pertains to BDSM and kink.

BDSM is a condensed abbreviation for bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, and sadism and masochism. And while each of those acts, and the dynamics in which they may be carried out, can look vastly different from one person/ coupling to the next — the core theme of all of it is ‘Consent.’ A core theme that is missing almost immediately when it comes to Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele (the two main characters in Fifty Shades). And in that troubling theme we

find central tension of the books/movies: Ana loves Christian but doesn’t want to be his submissive and does not enjoy being struck or punished within their sexual activity. Christian is turned on by violent sex and requires his partner to be his submissive.

As any kink practitioner/educator will stress, there are healthy, ethical ways to consensually combine sex and pain. All of them require self-knowledge, communication skills, and emotional maturity in order to make the sex safe and mutually gratifying. Kink and BDSM communities regularly use acronyms such as SSC (safe, sane, consensual) or RACK (risk aware consensual kink) to describe these core values.

The problem is that Fifty Shades casually associates hot sex with violence, but without any of this context. We see this in many forms throughout the books/ movies. From Ana sometimes agreeing to more violent acts during sex (such as paddling) without first being aware of the risk of those acts, agreeing to acts she normally would not agree to out of fear of losing Christian, finding herself becoming hurt beyond what she has consented to, and even becoming the subject of Grey’s obsessive and stalker-like behavior.

Now, Fifty Shades of Grey is far from the first of its type — books that included either explicit sex or BDSM. In the late 18th/early 19th century, novels from the Marquis de Sade (the name sake of the word “sadism“) depicted explicit and violent sexual scenes. In 1870 Leopold von Sacher-Masoch (the namesake of masochism) wrote about a dominant/submissive relationship in his novel Venus in Furs. Even best-selling author Anne Rice wrote her “sleeping beauty” series under a pseudonym in the 1980s about an imaginary medieval world where the main character is trained as a submissive sex slave.

But nothing took hold in the mainstream the way the Fifty Shades books did. Mitchell Kaplan, the owner of Books and

Books — a Florida chain that was one of the first booksellers to carry Fifty Shades in the U.S.— thinks the series’ appeal was in its intimate experience. “It was not something that you had to go into an Xrated bookshop (to get),” he says. “It had all the elements of successful commercial fiction — it was also just very explicit.”

When it comes to people’s sex lives, BDSM has long been considered deviant and marginal. For this reason, many praised the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy for making the subject more mainstream and thereby “more accepted,” even if they took issue with how the book portrayed those acts.

And while I will concede that because of its mainstream popularity, the subject of kink or BDSM became less taboo to talk about… Let’s not pretend that the book’s portrayal did anything to help. In fact it pathologizes and over simplifies the BDSM world that it’s partially fetishizing. Grey’s obsession with BDSM is portrayed as a “dark secret” that makes his relationship with Ana almost impossible… But the relationship wins out because she turns out to be “his savior.” The one who can help him overcome himself (the “I can fix him” narrative). By the end of the third book he is portrayed as being “cured” of his dark desires with the help of Ana. The book that people praise for mainstreaming conversations about BDSM and kink still portrays BDSM and kink as perverse, dirty, something to be ashamed of and needing to be “fixed.” The Savior fantasy in Fifty Shades is especially problematic because it is complicated by portrayals of abuse, a poor depiction of consent, and the pathologizing of BDSM — with the main character excusing all of this under the header of “that’s just the way he is.”

And yet, despite that – Fifty Shades had become the new standard for “hot sex.”

A troubling thought considering Grey routinely violates boundaries, ignores consent, stalks Ana, engages in clumsy and wildly unsafe activities, has poor communication skills, and exhibits many

traits of an entitled narcissistic abuser. This took a dangerous turn when people began to forget that this was a FICTIONAL work. One could argue that EL James’ depiction of Christian Grey is more dangerous than all other fictional Dominants because of how the reader gets drawn into thinking that what he’s doing is acceptable and normal outside of the fantasy world in which he dwells.

Novice submissives joined the community and expected that any contract they sign is legally binding, that it is their Dominant’s right to trespass against their boundaries and take control of their decisions, that their Dominant doesn’t need to provide aftercare or emotional support to a submissive because that’s not what Dominants do.

Novice Dominants joined the community and thought they could ignore people’s limits because “it’s what they (the sub) really want” (a line regularly used in the trilogy) - that a Dominant isn’t responsible for a submissive’s physical and emotional wellbeing, and that a Dominant’s will is more important than anything a submissive needs.

Wanting to experience or experiment in BDSM or kink, while they may be a private practice to you and/or you and your partner, is certainly nothing to be ashamed of. But BDSM and kink require research. In-depth and ongoing. It requires open and honest communication between you and your partner.

In a time where any answer you need, multiple ethical sources for BDSM or kink related questions, are literally at your fingertips - a few keystrokes away... fiction is not a substitute for critical thought and research.

Skylar Hansford: (sex and kink advice/education) from For The Love Of It in Wenatchee, WA.

Questions or comments: skylarshansford@gmail.com C

Jeffrey Hiatt and Skylar Hansford - photo by Keith Friedle

“...there are healthy, ethical ways to consensually combine sex and pain.”

BY LANCE REESE

“We’re on the list,” we say at the Crystal Ballroom box office. The attendants silent as they fumble across their desk for a clipboard — then flip through pages. “What’s the name? Who are you here with?” We answer their questions, then they ‘in’ us — only a handful (three) of names I can see and we’re two of them.

There’s a stress walking up to a Will Call, not having a ticket. Just counting on the band giving access to the show, backstage — the inner workings behind the scenes. What happens if your names not there? Turn around and walk away? Protest? The Crystal’s all business and the Psychedelic Furs are pros. And my wife’s connected, so we’re checked in. They issue us lanyards. I’m not one to advertise, so instead of around the neck I hang my tag from the belt — can’t have that gaudy thing out in front all night for the world to see. So we’re shepparded and left at the metal detector. After being herded through the cattle I set off all the sirens — maybe my hat, my belt, the buckles on my Birkenstocks. Alarms are going off and I’m pulled aside by security, no big deal — I’m used to this. With long hair and a beard I got singled out and searched every time I tried to get on a plane in the 2000’s. Every time getting ready to board, I’d see them scanning down the line and sure enough, we’d lock eyes. Next thing you know I’m behind a five foot partition half stripping down as TSA manhandles the contents of my carry-on. Fortunately concerts are not a matter of national security, so the red flashing light and the bong-bong-bong only has me off to the side with some burly guard and his

detection wand. I raise my arms from my sides at his instruction and as I do, my untucked button-up pulls above my waist. A keen-eyed supervisor catches sight of the VIP tag on my belt and explodes across the room to me. “SORRY SIR! SO SORRY.” He motions off the guerilla, pushes my arms down to my sides, “So Sorry sir, right this way, sir.” and we’re off as royalty.

This is a far cry from my first “on the list” experience. No my friends, for that we travel back to 1997 to the RKCNDY (rock candy) in Seattle. I’m over visiting a radio DJ — that used to be a big deal, to be on the radio — now FM’s all a syndicated bullshit corporate play list, no soul. But in the 90’s there was local flavor over the airwaves and every once in a while a Jockey still had the stones to put a show together that they believed in. One that showcased music that wasn’t being pumped down the throat of the masses.

I was working at a record store and other than some exotic 7” their wasn’t much vinyl — compact disc was all the rage, except for the broke rap and metal kids and some local artists still schlepping their home brew on cassette.

But this DJ would come in and I would sneak her new store inventory to play, all the good shit, and she’d play it on the air after midnight.

I’m over in Seattle and she’s got a new place in Belltown overlooking the water (Belltown’s not cool yet, or it is but just hasn’t been overrun with money yet) but it’s walking distance from Pioneer Square and the Central, the OK Hotel, Crocodile and Sit and Spin, and now I’m in the heart of it.

“We’re going to the Screaming Trees at

the rock candy (RKCNDY) tonight.” she says and I drive us down in my ’82 Merc and she’s got us on the list. This isn’t the backstage list it turns out — just pushes us through the door without a ticket. This, the second night of a double header, a last call for a culmination of a Seattle music scene of the late 80’s and early 90’s, the epitaph of Grunge.

We’re there late, not sure why — now a days I’m in line for days to get a place up front where I can lean on the edge of the stage dead center. Actually I prefer just to the left of center — never wind up to the right — always center or just to the left. But we’re late on this one — and up top in the horse show balcony looking down. The crowd’s thick and packed tight up against the low stage. TAD opens heavy, the singer’s big in sound and life, wrapped in a black and white cow skin shirt/coat –not sure which – and they give it their all till the end. After a break, the Screaming Trees are there. Turns out I’m not special, as Gary Lee Conner (Trees guitarist) will inform. Screaming Trees must be the most popular band in Seattle because “Half you fuckers are on the guest list.” And from all the fist fight Ellensburg parties that have produced this crowd he’s not wrong. This intimate crowd, where everyone has grown and lived with this band. As the set digs in, Mark Lanegan is up in front. Hair long and drenched in sweat. He’s frail but there. He extends his arms in front of the crowd — he’s their Jesus and they’re the disciples and his voice preaches and cuts the crowd apart. But this is the end of a Seattle era. He misses most of the encore set, and a year later the RKCNDY shuts it doors. It’s bulldozed and today there’s a fantastic parking lot. And now... Mark

is gone too. Why is it that the death of the grunge oracles destroy us? The annual A-list celebrity deaths barely phases us — but rightly a Kurt, Chris or Mark makes New York Times’ front page. The pain they expressed, so real in life, we all relate to in their death

A lifetime later I’m in Portland with the Furs doing their thing, but James takes the cake as an opener, electing to abandon their 90’s alt-pop radio hit success and, instead, dive into a new message of acceptance. It’s rhythmic, tribal and then the singer’s crowd surfing 20 years past his prime, and it’s real and pure. So the Furs come out and play their hits and we hang out backstage after the wrap, till it’s late and they head for the bus.

The salt water soaking pools are closed at the hotel and other than the lyrics painted on the wall the rock stars have all gone to bed. So we’re on the street looking for food at the 24 hour diner down the street. We swagger through the late night/early morning crowd next door. The short, shorts latex and suspenders spilling out of the club and pushing through. We’re in the safety of a red vinyl booth at Ruby’s. Signed celebrity photos from every decade lining the walls. I’m riding a wave of blissful drugs and booze when a waitress is across the counter to the door — all five feet tall of her in the face of someone trying to come in “Get the FUCK OUT!”

She’s yelling out of nowhere, then over to us apologizing, “sorry about that.” “All good” I say. I’ve got no fucking idea what’s going on, but perfect timing. My country fried steak and hash browns with gravy are there. All in the universe is complete.

RIP Mark

Mark Lanegan. Photo: Heavenly Recordings

THE FUNNY PAGES COMICS AND NOVELTIES

DAD JOKE OF THE MONTH

How excited was the gardener about spring? So excited he wet his plants.

1) Back over last summer, a town in Indiana was having itself a parade and festival they hold every year. But this year, a new float was built and drove through the parade that a lot of people found to be a little distasteful.

The float itself was submitted and driven by the City’s Republican Party. What did the float consist of?

A) A giant 13’ semi-interactive voting machine that only would allow you to select Biden

B) The float was a large prison cell holding a Hilary lookalike

C) Giant models of the twin towers billowing smoke

D) The float featured a giant cross with a crucified Jesus body with Trump’s face on it

2) A 34 year old math teacher decided to start putting some of his math tutorials online. Being a math enthusiast, he wanted to share his love of number crunching to as many people as possible. Oddly, he found the most success posting his videos here:

A) Tik Tok

B) Only Fans

C) A Flat Earth Society message board

D) Pornhub

3) In 1922 a young man named Charles Osborn was hanging a 350 hog for slaughter when he took a tumble and hit his head.From the moment Charles got up until 68 years

later, he suffered from THIS NONSTOP:

A) Hiccups

B) Constant Blinking

C) Non-stop yawning

D) A half erect penis

4) A 27-year old New York woman made waves recently when she shared a horrific accident that happened to her boyfriend during a round of the Devil’s Business - an accident left the poor boy with an impaled schlong. Youch. What happened here?

A) The man attempted to tie his member around the woman’s stiletto but oopsie…dial 911.

B) The man did a somersault in bed but came down on the pointy bed post.

C) The man was impaled mid-coitis after encountering an IUD that hadn’t fully mounted

D) The woman’s dangly earring had fallen off and during the tussle, became lodged in the log.

5) A Las Vegas Thai food joint is currently under investigation for the suspicion of this:

A) Employees having sex parties after hours in the kitchen

B) Lacing food with THC

C) Following customers home to rob them

D) Selling half-sized servings to save money

ANSWERS: 1) C- Giant models of the twin towers billowing smoke. 2) D - Pornhub. 3) A - Hiccups. 4) D- The man was impaled mid-coitis after en-

countering an IUD that hadn’t fully mounted. 5) B - Lacing food with THC.

How is it March already? I don’t know where the last month went but I guess here we are. Find out what your toxic trait is based on your zodiac sign.

Aries - Your toxic trait is arguing to the death even when you KNOW you’re wrong. So fun!

Taurus - Your toxic trait is aggressively chewing like you’re a starving hyena who hasn’t had a meal in 2 weeks.

Gemini - Your toxic trait is talking through the entire movie.

Cancer - Your toxic trait is having fictional conversations with yourself, taking them personally, and then letting them ruin your day.

Leo - Your toxic trait is unfollowing anyone on social media who is more good-looking or more swole than you.

Virgo - Your toxic trait is thinking the entire world is at your disposal. Nothing is sacred.

Libra - Your toxic trait is taking charge of the music but then changing the song every five seconds when you think of something better to listen to.

Scorpio - Your toxic trait is just your personality in general.

Sagittarius - Your toxic trait is talking loudly in public on speaker phone. Shhhhhhh!!!

Capricorn - Your toxic trait is wishing other people would pull their weight while simultaneously never allowing anyone to help you because they’ll never be able to do it right or as good as you.

Aquarius - Your toxic trait is squeezing the toothpaste tube in the middle instead of from the bottom. And immediately losing the cap...

Pisces - Your toxic trait is taking on more than you can manage and then resenting everyone around you for not appreciating your martyrdom.

1.F. Scott Fitzgerald

2.Agatha Christie

3.John Grisham

4.George

Orwell 5.James Joyce

6.Harper Lee

7.J.D. Salinger

8.Charles Dick-

ens 9.J.R.R. Tolkien

10.Roald Dahl

11.John Steinbeck

12.Dr. Seuss

13.Lewis Caroll

14.Jackie Collins 15 Iain Banks

16.Ray Bradbury

17.Jane Austin

18.Anne Rice

The Cold Winter Nights Comedy Series returns, bringing you some of the up and coming comedians around! Seating is limited so get your tickets asap. Presented by Atlas Fare, in partnership with LAPH Productions. Intended for a mature audience. TICKETS: $24-$27 (dependent on show) tables $140-$200 (INCLUDES 4 TICKETS)

From the brilliant minds of improv and comedy legend Colin Mochrie and Master Hypnotist Asad Mecci comes a brand new, mind-blowing, jaw-dropping, side-splitting show. Hypnosis and Improv — two art forms that have mystified and entertained fans, sceptics and everything in between for decades worldwide – come together as two masters of their crafts unite for a totally unique comedy experience — HYPROV: Improv Under Hypnosis. SPONSORED BY

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negative covid-19 test for all performances and public events held indoors. Masks are required to be worn at all times while not actively eating or drinking. Go to www.NumericaPAC.org/covid-safety-protocols/ for more info on our Covid-19 protocols.