The Comet - June 2019

everything will be fine

JAIME’S TATTOO GARDEN PAGE 16

EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE

EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE

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JUNE 2019

THIS issue editor: Ron Evans publishing assistant: Sarah Sims contributors: Cory Calhoun, Dustin Hays, Allegra Hart.

WEB: thecometmagazine.com facebook.com/thecometmagazine instagram: @thecometmagazine twitter: @cometmagazine info@thecometmagazine.com

b-sides..................................PAGE 4 crossword..........................PAGE 7 events..................................PAGE 8 writings...............................PAGE 12 more writings.....................PAGE 18 yep. more writings.............PAGE 19 the spacepod.......................PAGE 20 doc is in................................PAGE 22

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COMET HEADQUARTERS JUNE 2019

ONLY THE CLASSICS, PLEASE.

Have you ever had an encroaching project deadline with 20 other things you will see in the responses I got in the Q&As. on your plate and at the last minute the people you had scheduled to collaborate with on said project stopped answering their emails?

I love that some people are simply compelled to write. Some every day, some only when a certain idea or theme occurs to them, but something Well that’s what happened this month at Comet World Head Quarters so I almost forces them to sit down and block off some time to get the thing was left scrambling a bit for content. That’s when it occurred to me that I down, however possible. Not all compulsions are bad. have been wanting to do an all writers edition for a while now and this was the perfect time to do it. Panic and desperation often lead to good things I hope you enjoy this issue and when you can, support you local writers by and this is no exception. There wasn’t time to do a “new works” call or showing up to poetry readings, buying their books (you have no idea how hold submissions so I reached out to some of my writer pals for completed much writing you have to do to get to a full book) or even offering to help works they would like to share, and that’s how we got The Writers Issue proofread works in progress. And on that note...

Vol. I. I’ll leave you with my favorite Hemingway quote: I have always loved anthologies of any kind. TV shows like the Twilight “Write drunk. Edit sober.”

Zone, films like Creepshow and old radio broadcasts where you had a mixmatched variety of styles, genre and topics. This is somewhere along those Happy trails, lines as we have poetry, fiction and memoirs all told by very different writers at varying stages of their writing journey.

Ron Evans Editor, The Comet Magazine I also asked some of them a brief Q&A because I love hearing about how any creatives work, but maybe writers most of all. There is something romantic about the lone wordsmith, locked away in some remote cabin in the Ron Evans is the owner of RadarStation art gallery at 115 S. Wenatchee Ave., woods while penning a poem or a tale laced with heartfelt metaphor. Of host of the Tales from the Spacepod podcast, author of “Edgar Rue,” and crecourse that’s rarely the case in the real world of ‘get your writing hours in ator of many other things, many of which have robots in them. He is editor of whenever and however you can.’ There really is no wrong way to write as The Comet and lead designer.

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B-SIDES: i wenatchee by dick rossetti I grew up in the underwhelming village of Richland, Wa. Only thing I knew about Wenatchee was that the Bombers played you guys and these grotesque things called “Aplets & Cotlets,” (that have a flavor only Great Depression survivors could enjoy) came from nearby. First time we came over was about 5-6 years ago with The Jilly Rizzo. It seemed like forever to get a contact at this place called “Wally’s House Of Booze” and some dude named “Ando,” a Friday nite was secured and when TJR arrived, this cat Ando bounded out to help unload the band shit, this never happens.

As the nite ensued I found myself on the bar in my underpants and socks with a pair of maracas and a new friend named “Sunshine” while Ando & assorted characters shook bottled beer up and aimed it at ceiling fans where it spewed pretty much everywhere. THIS WALLY’S PLACE RULES OK!!

TJR morphed into Ball Bag. Met this kid (we have colonoscopy scans older than him) Dustin Hays who has this outstanding group The Nightmares (“County Line” is the best NW song of the last 25 years). The Bag starts coming over to Wenatchee about 2-3 times a year, it’s weird cuz over on the west side we played gigs and there’s not much glad handing between bands anymore (maybe it’s because we’re long in the tooth, look square, maybe kids think we’re narcs? That’s cool with us) over here people go out of their way to say you’re doing alright… and they know the words to the songs.”

Isaac Olsen is an indie film maker from Tacoma; he did a documentary on Tacoma legends Girl Trouble and then for some disturbing lack of judgement decided to make a movie about my failures as a DJ on 107.7 The End in Seattle. It had shown in Seattle, Tacoma, Portland but of course couldn’t find anywhere to screen it in the Tri Cities (the place will never be unlame). Ron Evans who runs the coolest art space, the RadarStation steps up and shows the thing… and people went! What is this place? Why do these people understand the good shit?? Who are you fuckers??

You guys have got it all here! A record label (Snatchee), the best club to still play rock music (Wally’s), and an art space that has strip tease and tv dinners (RadarStation)!

Bands ask us about it but I kinda wanna selfishly keep it under wraps, it’s special, y’know? The top of “Rock Mountain” has been located and you’re living on it.

ROSSETTI IN HIS SEMI-NATURAL HABITAT - PHOTO BY BILL REID

DUSTIN HAYS SPORTING THE SQUIRT (ONE OF ROSSETTI’S 23 BANDS) STICKER

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lE francis LE FRANCIS: FOOTNOTES Contour An ascendant of catacombs, dawn-lit foothills in feral sage sleep: wait for spring, wait for thaw, wait for May, for the wake that tempts skyward the snowy chambers of the lily’s bloom; heartlike & complicated as the ice-deep bones of rivers that held close the flesh of winter.

so loved Eta, queen of my nothing, heart like morning, bridging the long reach from center into the lobes of night-sky where day overflowed.

We’re fortunate, my love, blessed through distance, the ache of our gravities too dear to overcome; would I fall toward you — Fall with ears like barbells, fall uneclipsed & hollowing, mine fields for eyes & half-heart pulsing to the supernova’s thrum, I fear, I fear, we would change: Revelation before distortion, a shift from heel to toe, foot & foreleg, stars at the harvest; solar grapes crushed under Dionysus’ staggered step.

Indeed, we’re lucky for these miles for now, for an orbit that was not ordained to decay. Beg mercy, I watch you now & should Castor care to dance, how fine would the crush be, a giant branch vintage aged in a cask of pining.

I’m LE Francis. I live in East Wenatchee. I guess I’ve been writing since childhood.

Over the last decade it has become a particularly problematic impulse. I write poetry, horror and dark fantasy genre fiction, and the occasional non-fiction thing.

Do you have a dedicated writing location?

Not really. I tend to move around.

How often are you writing?

It depends. I intend to write several hours everyday. Then there’s life and that stressful everyday ‘socialization’ stuff that can leave me burned out and numb — overly prone to zone out to TNG or Trailer Park Boys instead of being productive. And of course good old depression, self-loathing, and existential dread occasionally pop in for a quick reminder that my ideas are boring, I’m a stupid person with a stupid face, and I’m going to die anyway so nothing matters and I should just have a glass of wine. My intentions are good though… Really.

Do you write on paper or is it straight to the laptop?

I will write on whatever is handy. I have file folders full of paper scraps from getting an idea at an inopportune time. Recently, I’ve gotten into the swing of writing and editing short things in Google Docs on my phone.

Favorite writers/authors/poets?

It kind of all started with stealing paperbacks off of my mom’s bookshelf — Stephen King, John Saul, Whitley Strieber and Peter Straub. I’m a Lovecraft mythos fan but he’s kind of a tough guy to like. Lately, I’m reading too much Anne Rice and Kelley Armstrong because I’m a broken person trying to figure out how to write a good romance subplot. I love Chuck Wendig’s “Star Wars: Aftermath” series. I love all things Alan Moore and am still trying to digest “Jerusalem.” I’m a big fan of William Blake’s poetry and overall aesthetic. I’ve recently enjoyed poems by Ai, Kaveh Akbar, Tod Marshall, Louise Glück, M. Stone, Chen Chen, and Danez Smith.

Do you listen to music while you write? Do you have any other writing rituals?

I have endless fiction playlists but prefer silence when I’m trying to figure out a poem.

My in-process novel playlist is mostly Stolas, Dance Gavin Dance, Mastodon, Thank you Scientist, Sleater Kinney, and The Dear Hunter.

What is your proudest moment as a writer?

I hope there will be big things coming someday, but the fact that a few people have opted to publish my work at all is pretty cool.

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TBD, ????????? ??, 20??

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CORY CALHOUN'S PUZZLE CORNER Crosswords & more made exclusively for The Comet

META CROSSWORD #4:

BRIEF INTROS

Hint: Look for a 2-word phrase describing part of a story.

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>>> For tips on solving meta crossword puzzles like this one, visit tinyurl.com/corymetas <<<

ACROSS 1. Fix a certain puppet, maybe 5. Slam 9. Race tracks 14. Idle of "Monty Python" 15. Big name in DIY furniture 16. Band output, often 17. Seemingly endless 19. Amazon's wheelhouse 20. Super Bowl runners-up of 2019 22. Due follower 23. 0.0625 of a gallon 24. The Hawks, on NBA scoreboards 25. Dorm supervisors, briefly 26. Slam 28. Sailor 32. Romantic February honoree 36. Criticize, slangily 37. Garden dweller of legend 38. Moisten, culinarily 39. What America would have if Puerto Rico joined the Union 42. American symbol that would change if Puerto Rico joined the Union 43. Furthermore 44. UFO pilots 45. Post-Q queue 47. Cancel 48. Tallahassee coll.

ANACROSTIC CHALLENGE

P E E R A C A I H O T P I J O H N A T I T L O G O O O H P L A N Y E N N X W S C I S H E A N I T R S A Y I

ANSWERS:

They may be found in a jar

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18. Type of creepy visual "valley" 21. Sound 25. Feminist punk rock movement members 26. Like some walks 27. They may be pale and bitter 29. Sound 30. Small group of carpenters?

31. "Full Frontal" host Samantha 32. It may be square, triangular, or gaff-rigged 33. Kodak or Fuji alternative 34. Logic diagram with overlapping circles 35. Jazz, for one DOWN 36. Pal for life, briefly 1. Passed out 40. It may be taken with a raised 2. Zeal hand 3. Step after "lather," often 41. Cashmere, e.g.

4. Org. with 48-Across as a member 46. Eye sores 5. Mindy Kaling's green "Inside Out" 47. September blossom character 48. Conform 6. "Why do ___ trying?"

49. Place to chill by warming up?

7. Close up 50. Like neglected needs 8. "Ditto" 51. Yuletide 9. Undisguised 52. Blizzard type 53. Italian clam?

10. Info on births, deaths, 54. Without ___ to stand on marriages, divorces, etc.

55. Confessed 11. Garden dweller of legend 56. Lotion bottle letters 12. Circular floral arrangements?

13. It's between fa and la SOLUTION TO LAST EDITION'S CROSSWORD

>>> For solving instructions instructions, visit tinyurl.com/coryanacrostics <<< (SOLVING HINT: This puzzle is perfect for this issue ... but also would have been well suited for a few issues ago... :)

CLUES:

51. Like a citizen of either Korea, regionally speaking 56. Pathetic 57. Final demand 58. "Get Out" Oscar winner Jordan 59. Wobble 60. 1982 Best Musical Tony Winner whose numerical title = the Fellini film it's inspired by + 0.5 61. Dance with swinging arms and clenched fists 62. Shrek, for one 63. Tiny annoyance, say

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"Zip it!"

Large leafy one Allow Winter walking surface, sometimes Recreational water activity need Go left or right

H E C K Y E A T H E E D O R F E F O N B O N N

A M M R R Y K E T S H S S E L W O L E W I D I V Q E D S E D L I V T O W A S S

A A B R E D Q U E E N

P A C K M U L E U S S R

A T T I R R O Z A I R O P E D O A D D H A E V A R I R T I S L E D O E R I R M Y D T O C K O V E R O I L S

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SOLUTION TO LAST EDITION'S DOUBLE ANAGRAM CHALLENGE

QUOTE: 1

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Theme of new words: Dog breeds.

BETTERS - B = SETTER; ENCIPHERS - E = PINSCHER; UNHOOD - O = HOUND; STIFF-ARM - R = MASTIFF; EXPLAINS - X = SPANIEL. Leftover letters B, E, O, R & X anagram into BOXER

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

32 34 book series, 1978-2017

EMAIL @ >

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GTFO: EVENTS WORTH LEAVING YOUR HOUSE FOR

Evan Egerer

JANuary Mondays: Ye Olde BookShoppe Open Mic

Ye Olde Bookshoppe • Wenatchee • 6:00pm • Free A new year; a new night! Bring your words, your song, your voice, your ears, your heart and soul. Join our weekly open mic, a casual and fun way to express yourself and meet some like-minded folk :)

andRADARSTATION Bee: JANuaryBushel Thursdays: Open Mic

Leavenworth RadarStation • Wenatchee • 7:30pm • Free Music, Comedy, and Poetry. Hosted by LAPH ProducLiveThursday Music - on Troy & Bosáya tions every the Lindsey world famous RayGun stage. Sign up atJune 7:00,16 with Sunday, at performances 8pm - 10pm, around 21+ 7:30.

MusicTrivia - The+ Chumlilies JANuaryLive Thursdays: Humane Society Night

June 23 •at7:00pm 7pm - 9pm, 21+ Tap andSunday, Putt • Wenatchee Trivia Nights At Tap and Putt. $3 to enter and a chance Chateau Faire to win the $$$ pot.

We LePont: also donate $1 of every draft purchase to the Humane Society to show the animals Wenatchee some love and help us help them!

The Winery Comedy Tour at

FaireNight LePont JanuaryChateau Fridays: Bingo

Killdeer String Band Ridge. Whether you ski under the lights or come up just Jan 4: Art of Beer Flight Night for a rockin’ show, Mission Ridge is the place to be. All Wenatchee Valley Brewing Company • 108 Islandview St. the excitement goes down inside the Hampton Lodge We are currently brewing a lot of fun new beers, and and can be enjoyed from either the Chair 5 Pub or the this event includes four of our experimental batches KaWham Café. served on a flight. The experimental flights will be at a Jan 5 Dynamite Supreme special price: Normally $8 --> $5 for regular customers --> $4 for our Mug Club Members.

Jan 12 Massy Ferguson Friday, June 14 atflights 7:30pm - $10 Icicle Brewing Company: Experimental come with- a21+ tasting worksheet, Jan 19 Cosmic Serenity Theand Complete Works Of Brewers Williamwill Shakespeare at least one of our be there to explain Leavenworth Jan 26 TBD Abridged by and Adam Daniel Singer, and the brews howLong, they were produced.

Jess5:00-8:00pm Winfield features three hero actors attemptLive Music: Fox and Bones

January Music at Icicle Brewing

Saturday, 29 at •6pm - 9pm Icicle BrewingJune Company Leavenworth Fox and Bones are the modern-day Bonnie and Jan 4 Evan Egerer, 6:00pm Clyde, if Bonnie and Clyde had driven a Volvo Jan 5 Sarah O’dea, 6:00pm and played folk pop music.

Jan 9•16•23•30 Sergio & Co, 7:00pm Jan 11 Justin Froese, 6:00pm RadarStation: Jan 12 Christina May, 6:00pm Wenatchee, 21 + only Jan 17•31 Bluegrass Night, 7:00pm Jan 18Mic Cascade Cascade, 6:00pm Open Thursdays at 8pmString - Free - 21+ only Jan 19 Killdeer Band, 6:00pm Comedy, music andString poetry.

Hosted by LAPH Jan 26 Glass Heart Choir

Tap andSaturday, Putt • Wenatchee June 29• 7:00pm at 7pm - 8:45pm Every Friday at 7pm.recognized Get a free board with each draft the Productions every thursday on the world faNationally comedians travel purchase and chances to win Wild Tickets, Gift Cards, country tasting local wine and making new fans January mous RayGun stage. Doors at 6:30, sign up at Music at McGlinn’s Swag, Growlers and more! in this new comedy circuit that brings quality McGlinn’s 7, performances start• Wenatchee at 8.

Public House • 7:00pm comedy to folks for a fraction of what antiquatJan 4•5 Champagne Sunday JANuaryedSaturdays: Music Series comedy Mountain clubs demand.

Kristen Stanton Jan 12 Marlo/Luke Martina Celeste Mission Ridge Ski & Board Resort • 6:30pm Saturday, June 8 at 7pm Jan 18•19 Eddie Manzanares Saturday nights are all about live music up at Mission Collapse: Tickets at radarstationart.com $10, 21+ Jan 26 Nic Allen

Wenatchee

Alcohol Ink Creation Class Saturday, June 8 at 2pm - 4pm Learn to create abstract pieces of alcohol ink artwork. We will start with a ceramic tile/coaster, then practice on yupo paper which we will turn into notecards, then create a set of magnets!

The class is $30 and includes supplies. RSVP to pretty.nice.creations@gmail.com to save your seat, as space is limited. RadarStation will be open for cocktails, wine and beer purchase.

Two amazing performers from the Westside playing acoustic originals.

Troy Lindsey w/ Bosaya with special guest Paul Graves Wednesday, June 12 at 6:30pm - $8, 21+ Two locals and an exotic Russian vocalist will make for an exciting evening of mid-week tunes.

The Complete Works of Shakespeare (Abridged)

ing to perform thirty-seven plays in ninety-seven minutes.

FastCrawford paced, witty, and physical, it’s JAN 5: Aaron an evening of Alaughter for Shakespeare lovers The Vogue: Liquid Lounge • Chelan and Live haters alike music with country artist Aaron Crawford. One of the best shows we’ve had. Don’t MISS!

Champagne Sunday 8:00pm-10:00pm • All ages Thursday, June 20 at 7pm Tickets at radarstationart.com $10 - 21+ Jan 10: Wayne’s World OneNumerica of our favorite groups returns with their Performing Arts Center • Wenatchee impossibly of tunes, perforMonthly entertaining Movies on theshow Big Screen for only $3. Part of mance Featuring an appearance the and 2019burlesque.

Cold Winter Nights Comedy Series.

by The Radar Dames Burlesque Rated PG-13 | Running Time: 1troupe. hour 35 minutes 6:30pm • www.numericapac.org/event/waynes-world/

Aberdeen Live - by Matt Sheehy Saturday, at 7:30pm JAN 10:June Brian22 Regan Tickets Eventbrite.com $24 - 21+ TownatToyota Center • Wenatchee PartJoin rock Zone.

Port- and us concert, for what ispart sureTwilight to be a night of laughter land’s Sheehy Brian (LostRegan Lander) returns funMatt as comedian stops by thewith Town Toyota his ever growing stage show Aberdeen. Film elements with music and spoken word. If you like Twin Peaks, dark storytelling and fine indie music, this show is not to be missed.

Stand Up Comedy Night Friday, June 28 at 7pm - $15 - 21+ This Probably Doesn’t Matter and The Happy Crop Shoppe present an evening of live comedy featuring Mike Coletta and Tyler Smith along with a few local openers.

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JUNE 2019

Sway wild Center as part of his 2019 tour. Don’t miss out!

7:30pm-10:30pm • Tickets are on sale NOW at www.towntoyotacenter.com

social justice.

7:30pm • Tickets $17-$21 • www.numericapac.org/event/ villalobos-brothers/

ture audience. Seating is limited!

7pm • Tickets: $22 • VIP Tables: $140 • Series Pass: $60 • www.numericapac.org/event/cwn-andrew-sleighter

JAN 11: Matthew Perryman Jones w/ Molly Parden

JAN 18-19: Compedy at Campbell’s with Gabriel Rutledge

AN 19-20: Bavarian Icefest 2019

Brewminatti • Prosser Originally from Pennsylvania, Matthew grew up in Redcut Lion - Grizzly Lounge: Georgia and hisHotel artistic teeth in the Atlanta music scene before heading north to Nashville. Songs from Wenatchee across his catalog have been featured in dozens of film and TV placements, and tours have taken him across Comedy at The Grizzly w/ Tyler Boeh the U.S. and abroad to share with legends Thursday, June 13stages at 7:30pm - 9pm like Shawn Colvin and Patty Griffin.

7:00pm • Tickets at brewminatti.com/upcoming-events/ Comedy at The Grizzly w/ Gina Brillon

Thursday, June 20 at 7:30pm - 9pm

Jan 12: Michael Carlos • Cowboy dan

Wally’s House of Booze • Wenatchee Comedy at The Grizzly w/ Jimmy Shubert The annual Michael Carlos Birthday Show!!!

Also feaThursday, June 27 at 7:30pm - 9pm turing Cowboy Dan and spoken word artists. Come out and party with us!

Stein: Show at 9:30 • $5 cover • 21+

Leavenworth

JAN 12-13:June Bavarian Bruisefest 2019 Groove 7, 7:30pm - Mugsy’s

Leavenworth Festhalle June 8, 7:30pm - Bandits of The The 5th Annual Bavarian Bruisefest is here! This Animal Kingdom 10-team tournament hosted in beautiful downtown June 13, 7pm Twin Skinny Leavenworth has become a massive attraction for teams June 14, 8pm Red House all over the PNW. June 15, 8pm - The Chumlilies First game starts at 9am; last game ends around 7:30pm June 16, 7pm - Gina Belliveau on Saturday. On Sunday, 9am first game; last game June 20, 7pm - River ends around 6:30pm.

Games on theDog hourDuo all day long.

June 21, 8pm Twin Skinny Championship ceremony will take place on Sunday after June 22, 8pm - Hot Damn Scandal the last game.

June 23, 7pm - Wonder 9:00am-6:30pm leavenworth.org/event/bavariianJune 27, 7pm - Nate Weakley bruisefest-2019/

June 28, 8pm - Nate Weakley Project June 29,Brothers 7pm - JA+LB Jan 17: Villalobos 30, 7pm Twin• Wenatchee Skinny Numerica June Performing Arts-Center

The Villalobos Brothers (Ernesto, Alberto, and Luis) Music toCollective: use their Undertow violins and voices redefine contemporary Mexican music.

Their original compositions masterfully Wenatchee blend elements jazz, Living rock, classical, Mexican folk Clem of Snide Room and Show to deliver a powerful message of love, brotherhood, and

Campbell’s Resort on Lake Chelan “Gabriel Rutledge is a quick thinking, fast talking, hard Sunday, at 8pm -Weekly 10pm working bad June ass.” -23 Louisville Clem Snide solo show.

These shows are hosted A past winner of both the Seattle International Comedy by fans in private spaces. Each show limited to Competition and The Laughing Skull Comedy Festival, 40-60 All tickets must beappearances. purchased in Gabriel hastickets. made numerous television He advance. is also author of the book “Happiness Isn’t Funny.”

Get tickets at https://rottenapplepresents.com/events/comWally’s Tavern: edy-at-campbells-gabriel-rutledge/

Leavenworth Leavenworth loves winter, and each year on MLK Jr. Wenatchee Valley Brewing Company : weekend we celebrate winter’s bounty with IceFest! The villageWenatchee is still dressed in over half a million twinkling Pybus, lights and this weekend is a flurry of frosty frivolity.

Come celebrate with us!

One Tree Cider winter Tap Takeover Games and events both Sunday at Wednesday, June 19 at days 5pm• -Fireworks 8pm 6:00pm Come join• leavenworth.org/event/bavariian-icefest-2019/ us to grab a pint of One Tree Cider!

JAN Wenatchee 18-27: Lake Chelan Winterfest 2019

Downtown Leavenworth and Leavenworth Festhalle The sixth annual Timbrrr! Winter Music Festival offers a weekend Valley of musicMuseum and northwest wintertime fun.

Wenatchee During the day, attendees and Cultural Center: can take in live music at a handful of venues throughout downtown Leavenworth.

Wenatchee At night, 21+ guests will rock out to the festival’s headlining acts and enjoy local beer from Icicle Brewing Co. Summer Concert: Beer Garden and Timbrrr’s celebrated Hot Toddy Garden. at the Museum Lineup and ticket details: winter.timbermusicfest.com

Records Presents: EastSnatchee Woodin Ave • Chelan LIVE MUSIC AT WALLY’S Nestled among the snow-capped hilltops and glacier fed HOUSE OF BOOZE! waters of Lake Chelan, Winterfest is the perfect escape to a$5 Washington winter wonderland. cover, music at 9:30, 21+ Join us for wine and ale tastings, horse-drawn carriages, intricate ice sculptures, music, activities forPsycho kids of 78, all ages, a June 8 live - Dreadful Children, Datura massive beach bonfire, spectacular fireworks show and June 14 -The Moon is Flat, Human Element, much more! Weird Animal Specific ticket details:Stereo siteline.vendini.com/site/ Juneevent 15 -and Ghost Power, Creeps, DAR lakechelanwinterfest.com

Giveaways all evening long, plus glassware to 25-26: theJanfirst 100Timbrrr! guests. Winter Music Festival 2019

Friday, June 28 at 7pm - 9pm Planning to enjoy the Concert in Centennial JAN 25: Sway (ft.Beer MandyGarden Fer & Dave McGraw) June 21 - Ball Bag, The Emilys, Park?

Join usWild at the at the MuseBrewminatti • Prosser The Nightmares um.

Our parking lot offers a perfect view and JAN June 19: Cosmic We first met them at Brewminatti Block Party 2018 and 29 -Serenity The Peculiar Pretzelmen, listening spot to enjoy The Prefunc live on the Wally’s House of Booze • Wenatchee LOVED them. Excited to have them back.

CowboyDan, Plus Guests Centennial Park stage.

Beer and wine are availSnatchee Records Presents!! A night with Cosmic Serentrailblazers Dave McGraw and Mandy Fer able “...roots for purchase.

Must be 21 to enter. $1 cover. ity, Alterna/Psych from Hilo, HI.

Wenatchee Downtown Association:

Music at 9:30 • $5 cover • 21+

Wenatchee

JJanFather’s 19: Stand-up Comedy with andrew sleighter Day Weekend Ale Trail

Numerica Performing Arts Center • Wenatchee Saturday, June 15 at 12pm - 5pm Cold Winter Nights brings three months of comedy at Ale Trail is a great Father’s Day gift for dad, or the Numerica PAC to kick-off the New Year – including just a fun event to attend! Featuring breweries a three-part stand-up comedy series featuring some of cideries Washington State, stop the & best comics from in the across industry. in to downtown businesses and taste featured January’s stand-up show features Andrew Sleighter, selections. seen on Last Comic Standing, Nuvo TV’s Stand Up & Deliver, and Conan. He has also written and performed sketch comedy for Comedy Central. Intended for a ma-

continue their upward stride towards artistic nirvana.... scintillating...” –PopMatters Ye Old Bookshoppe: “...refreshing...stunning...some of the best I have Wenatchee heard.” –No Depression “...had me at ‘hello’...” –Seattle Post Intelligencer Open Mic - New Night 7:00pm Tickets brewminatti.com/upcoming-events/ Mondays•at 6pm at - 7:30pm - Free

Bring your words, your song, your voice, your JAN your 26: Brett Benton Duo Join our weekly open ears, heart and soul.

Club Crow • Cashmere mic, casual and fun way to express yourself and Brettsome Benton returns to Club Crow! Come get down with meet like-minded folk :) this dirty delta and heavy hill country blues duo like y’all always do! Always a party!

9:00pm

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Wenatchee first Friday Kasey Koski with Wenatchee First Fridays helped put together this list of shows, along with their First Friday hours. Remember, while most places have special events, artists receptions and free admission during First Friday, the art itself is on exhibit all month long in most locations.

Two Rivers Gallery

Designer 102Floors N Columbia,

2riversgallery.com

19 N. Wenatchee Ave • open 4, First Friday 9am-8pm Wed-Sat:11Sun:1-4

MAC Gallery

MAC Gallery WVC Music and Art Center

13001300 Fifth Fifth Street Street, • First Friday (Closing)9-5 Reception 5pm-7pm Mon-Fri

Terry Valdez portrait paintings Art Department faculty members show that they First features Friday Reception 5-8 in a show titled WVC 2018-19 Student Art Exhibition Coyote Emerging & The Millennial Series. His portrait are professional practitioners of their disciplines with Suzi Lane Paints NCW Life. Suzi is a water- a group May exhibition 17—June of 14,their 2019 subjects are of past students from years as an Art Educreative work in a variety of colorist who loves capturing people engaged in Works were selected for pieces their by excellence cator in the Eastmont School District. Each individual media. The exhibition includes Ruth Allan,in activities.

Her an artist was Scott technique andDeRooy, conceptNatalie from Dotzauer, among aElena range by their outdoor own unique existence hastraining inspiredas Terry to Bailey, Vicki attempt through to peel back connect to the of complicated Yev Rybakov,(including and Majka Sadel. the and Gage Academy Art in Seattle. Payne, of disciplines Drawing, Painting, layers ofMusic this emerging generation. by harpist Suzanne Grassell, compli- Sculpture, Ceramics, Design, and Printmak-

mentary refreshments.

Collapse Contemporary Art Gallery

115 S. Wenatchee Ave. Fri:4-7, Sat:12-5 First Friday Reception 4-9 Over the last 40 years, Rod Weagant has established himself as one of the top landscape artists in the Pacific Northwest.

Rod’s work has been featured in American Artists magazine, National Art for the Parks and over 45 one-man shows throughout the West coast.

Nature Conservancy LemoloThe Cafe & Deli

115 Orondo 114 N Wenatchee Ave • OpenSt. First Friday 1am-6pm

ing). Also on view near the MAC are a series of impressive murals being done by students in Marlin Peterson’s Illustration class.

Wells House

1300 5th St. WVC Campus (509) 888-6240 First Friday 5-7pm Wells House volunteers are pleased to be joining the First Friday celebration. We will be providing tours of this historic house throughout the evening. Join us and see the beautiful restored interior and the projects yet to come. On display will be blueprints from the collection of the Wenatchee Valley Museum.

Mela 17 N. Wenatchee Ave • Opening Reception 5pm-8pm

Open 5-8pm, Talk at 6pm Adventures Tumbleweed & Studio Sketching On the Fly: Travel Journal Color from Plants Shop 2: karen dawn dean Shrub Steppe Rocks!

105 Palouse My travel sketches tend to be completed under time Natural dyes have been stuck to my bucket list for Nature Conservancy local artists almost Mon-Fri 10-6I ,finally Sat 10-5 Firstout Friday pressure.The Maybe the sketch was donehosts while13 waiting 50 years. stepped of my5-8 normal in line orfor forShrub a meal.

As such, the sketches tend to art making practice, dug into the alchemy herSteppe Rocks! Plein air artists paint- Butte Brand is a Pacific Northwest and Company, be vibrant and fresh.

The quickly drawn inaccurate metic practice of botanical color extraction.

It’s been a ed in the Moses Coulee last fall and have col- rooted in the Lake Chelan Valley, that provides lines dart and bounce around the page portraying a year’s-long journey of discovery; coaxing and persuadlaborated to bring this show to the art walk at universal, high quality apparel. Our mission is small moment in time. For me, the traveler, the drawing plants to give up their unique colors. I will share 115 Brent the Ice Age some vast, yettechniques simple - promote adventure, create a ing marks myOrondo. memory...

I stillCunderla can recallfrom the moment of the I’ve learned about indigo resist willplace share at 6pm culture most importantly, helping caught...Institute the sun, sky, andbriefly the people I wasabout with. the printing andand, the eco-dyeing process atlend 6:30 apm.

Two unique geological formations featured in the workshops hand viamid-month. the Butte Brand Project. Through this masterpieces.

platform we are able to volunteer, create aware-

ness, and donate 10% of each sale to a landSt. Commons & Mission water-based non-profit organization that are 218 S. Mission Street • Openecosystems Mon-Fri 8am-6pm conserving our natural and promotVonda Drees presents her daily journaling practice ing outdoor recreation.

of connection, intuition and spirit. Other members of Grunewald Guild to bring a variety of work and proFireHouse Pet Shop and Grooming gramming information.

17 S Wenatchee Ave, Wenatchee, WA 98801 4:00pm-6:30pm The Lower Elementary students at Joyful Scholars Montessori have painted portraits of their beloved pets. The children will also be selling sets of greeting cards featuring prints as a fundraiser for the Wenatchee Valley Humane Society, where they regularly volunteer to read to the cats and dogs.

Designer Floors

19 N. Wenatchee Ave. Mon - Fri: 9-5pm, Sat 10-3pm First Friday 9am-8pm Two Wenatchee Valley College instructors Majka Sadel and Vicki DeRooy will show together for the month of June.

The Nature Conservancy

Mela 115 Orondo Street • First Friday 5pm-7pm

17Perspectives N. Wenatchee Ave., caffemela.com on the Value of Shrub Steppe Mon-Fri:6-6, Sat-Sun:8-4 The Nature Conservancy will be hosting a showing of First Friday Reception 5-6 and Jan Cook Mack’s pleinMarc Dilley’s photography Collage artist, Yenney shows a nostalgic air work fromChad the Moses Coulee in Eastern Washington.

This honors the history ofthemes. our arid lands take onshowcase pop, abstract andrich surrealistic and the uniquepast landscape is the precious home to Travel through eras ofthat Americana through many species of plants and wildlife. Educational Panel theConversation use of hand6pm-6:45pm. cut paper collage, mixed media, layered resin and paint.

Julie Aynn Photography 15 Palouse Street #103

THE COMET

Pan’s Grotto

3 N Wenatchee Ave, Suite 2 • Open 10am-8pm

Tumbleweed Shop & Studio

105 Palouse • First Friday Reception 5pm-8pm

Regular Business Hours: By Appointment only

for you to come see this show and find out how

sweet and savory scones, and so many more delectable treats. Marshall Artistry – Specializing in acrylic pour coaster sets and canvas pieces.

Perfect as a present for a loved one, or to simply add a splash of color to your home decor.

114 N Wenatchee Ave. Sun & Mon 11-4, Tue-Sat 11-6 Open First Friday until 6 Lemolo is excited to host Cyndi Noyd for her second show this year entitled, Memories Realized. Personal travel journals that were displayed earlier in the year provide inspiration for my large scale paintings. Memories are reduced and expressed through form and color.

From Orion to the Zodiac is it written in the stars?

Tumbleweed Bead Co. launched in 2002 when owner First Friday Art walk Hours: 5 pm-8 pm our local artists have shown you what it is that Humanity has looked up at the sky in awe since the and creator Jessica Russell began creating delicate, soJulie Aynn Photography will be hosting: Valley makes eco-friendly nightmares jewelry and dreamscapes. beginning of time and we are still watching the stars in phisticated, at her in-home studio.

CakesCome & Bakes Mouthwatering contemplation. check –out our local artistsbaked spin ongoods Tumbleweed believes in keeping life and accessories different constellations the entire month of January. simple, fun and beautifully Lemolo Cafe & Deli designed. including artfully decorated cupcakes, tasty

Wenatchee Valley Museum & Cultural Center 127 South Mission Street wenatcheevalleymuseum.org T-Sat: 10-4, First Friday (FREE): 10-8 Blossom Days Remembered invites festival lovers of all ages to learn about the evolution of this iconic festival through the decades with displays of gowns, crowns and other memorabilia.

Mission St. Commons

218 S. Mission St, Open: M-F 8-6 www.missionstcommons.com McKenna Ihde is a mixed media painter. Her technique of adhering antique fabrics and paper canvas was born from her love of thrifting.

RadarStation TwotoRivers Gallery Ye Olde She aims to restore beauty5pm-8pm in what others dis115 S. Wenatchee Ave • Bookshoppe First Friday FREE Reception 5pm-9pm 102 N Columbia • First Friday Reception 11 Palouse St. card.

Her focus is on the natural world.

RAD: An Installation Mural Featuring the oil paintings of Western artist Dean Store Mon. Tue.-Thur., Rad Volume I byHours: Ron Evans is a11-7; celebration of the10-7; Fri.Rainey. The gallery will have a whole new show of over glorious music players from theHours: 70’s and5-8 80’s.

Wenatchee Valley Chamber ofpianist Commerce Sat. 10-8.

Art Walk pmPainted 50 local and regional artists.

Music by Jeannie acrylics onRachel large canvases in a owner style that’s more graphMcPherson.

Local wines. Complimentary refreshments.

137 North Wenatchee Avenue Courtney, of Pretty Nice Creic design than traditional composition. The current ations is a local crafter with a flair for fabric. First Friday Reception 5-8 pm. project is over twenty feet long. Sarah Sims will have Come Earth-friendly see her blankets, jewelry and Try wines from the NCW Wine Award-winning more handmade jewelryscarves, and more fun winery, Sigillo Cellars of Leavenworth, while more!will be added to the Dish of Fate. mini-paintings enjoying the Eclectically acoustic music of Pans Grotto Lance Tigner. $10 tasting fee. 5-8 pm. Cheers to the weekend!

3 N Wenatchee Ave, Suite 2 Free ArtNightmares Tour with Terry and ValdezDreamscapes: Dreams and nightmares have Valdez alwaysleads beenthe a human Robert Graves Gallery Professional artist Terry first in afascinaseries of free guided art tours on Friday, January 4, 5:30pm-7:10pm.

His talk will briefly highlight his “Confluence of Communities” funnel series at Columbia tion, what do you see in your dreams? Do your Wenatchee Valley College Station.nightmares Guests will leave then board Current B to tour the Robert Graves Gallery Members Show. you shaking? We can’t wait Sexton Hall, 9th Avenue entrance Tours begin and end at Columbia Station. Sign up by phone: 509-664-7624 or email: sdanko@linktransit.com.

JUNE 2019

Wenatchee Valley Museum & Cultural The GalleryCenter is open from 5 to 7 with refresh-

11

127 South Mission Street Featuring • First Fridaythe (FREE) 10am-8pmcast ments and goodies. amazing In conjunction the Beyond the Frame: Inland Bounbronze pieces with of Kevin Pattelle.

With Kevin, ty exhibit, the Museum presents Gifts of the Earth. It is Sarah Horowitz will be showing her fabulous a look at some of the resources of Indigenous people of ink work and Valley. paintings onabout a variety hand-their the Wenatchee Learn nativeof plants, made and custom papers. uses, and the cycle of seasons and harvest.

RadarStation

115 S. Wenatchee Ave. First Friday FREE Reception 4-9 pm PUSSY POWER: A Decidedly Female Showing. An unflinching tribute to all things female.

Paintings, photography, graphic art, live poetry readings and an unforgettable appearance by the Radar Dames. 21+ only. Collapse Gallery will be all-ages for those with youngsters in attendance. They can wait on the other side of the vagina curtain while you check out the Radar show. Art 4-8pm. Poetry and performances 8-9pm. Cocktail bar will be open.

Ye Olde Bookshoppe

11 Palouse St • First Friday Reception: 5pm-8pm NCW based crafter Amanda Northwind has been mak-

Link Transit Art Tour ing hand hammered jewelry for her shop, Mystic North, Wenatchee Curatorup ofnew Exhibits for 5 years. Valley When’s Museum she not dreaming ideas, you can find her out in the Kasey Koski leads thismountains. talk highlighting an exhibit celebrating 100 years of Apple Blossom.

This historical display includes everything from gowns and crowns to pins, sheet music and photography. Guided bus tour begins and ends at 4:45 p.m. at Columbia Station and will include stops at the museum and several downtown First galleries.Space is limited and advanced Friday Free Transit! registration is encouraged to guarantee a spot.

Monthly art tours coincide with Link Transit Call offering Selina Danko 509-664-7624 or4:00pm email free FirstatFriday service after sdanko@linktransit.com sign up. on Routes 1, 5, 7, 8E, to 8W, 11 & 12.

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JUNE 2019

THE COMET

LORNA ROSE Excerpt from a memoir by Lorna Rose.

Theatre Mom’s voice sounded strained as she pleaded with Dad. “Will you please take her and spend some time with her?” I could feel the weight of Dad’s reticence, as heavy as the double doors to their bedroom, in front of which I sat, eavesdropping on their conversation. I held my breath waiting for Dad’s response.

Tonight I had a performance. I was to deliver a ten-minute monologue in front of my fellow students and their parents. For the occasion I wore my special fuchsia blouse, a shirt I had bought with my own money from one of those ritzy women’s clothing stores in the mall. Its shoulder pads and faux-wood buttons made me feel older than my 14 years. Each night after homework I practiced, always wearing that shirt. First I had memorized my monologue, word for word. Then I added movement, feeling, cadence in all the right places. My full-length mirror must have grown tired watching me rehearse, sometimes close up, so I could get the facial expressions right, sometimes far away so I could practice body language. I wanted to blow everyone away. And to have Dad there!

A few minutes later the double doors burst open.

“Come on, Lorna, I’m taking you tonight. Go get in the car,” Dad’s command was flat and resigned. He sounded tired. But it was ok; my energy would carry us both.

I turned and bounded down the stairs with fresh vigor, heading toward the stage, toward the lights and all of Dad’s attention.

While my younger brothers played sports at their schools, as a freshman I got involved in theatre. The department did four productions a year, including one large one, usually a musical. The program had won several fine arts awards over the years.

Not only did I enjoy theatre class, I made theatre an extracurricular activity. By now my skin had started to clear up, my braces were off, and I had gotten contacts, although I still felt ugly. Normally I was shy. But memorizing lines was something I was good at. Thinking about characterization, celebrating quirkiness, and, ironically, being on stage – these were things I was good at. To start, I joined stage crew, with dreams of one day belonging on the other side of the curtain. During my freshman year, a theatre clique formed, kids who were usually cast in shows, and it stayed more or less the same throughout high school. I twisted and clawed and pleaded to belong in that crowd, auditioning for every production. I longed to see my name on a program, to be at home performing lines on a stage. So I practiced my craft hard. At home Dad and my brothers threw baseballs in the backyard, while I sat in the grass and practiced lines for the current class assignment.

Dad and I parked and headed in, then up the stairs to the theatre classroom.

Most of the students had already arrived, their parents seated in the bleacher seats around the corner from the stairs. The room was loud with parent chatter and nervous students, and had that wet and pasty smell of stage makeup. Dad found a seat in the back as I headed across the room to the backstage area, which was really just a curtained-off section of the classroom. I saw various props for the different scenes being delivered tonight. Among the performances, mine was to be the only monologue; everything else was a scene between two or more people. In class the previous day, we had arranged ourselves in order, and, out of ten performances, I was going fourth. I said hello to Jenny, Tara, and Liz, my friends in class, and Mr. Deignan the teacher, but mostly I kept to myself, breathing and trying to slow my thoughts and soothe my heart.

When the third performance was finished and applause died down, it was my turn. I closed my eyes, took one last breath, and stepped out from behind the curtain.

As I strode toward center stage, I tried to look relaxed and confident. My only prop, a long lounge chair, sat waiting for me. I sidled up in front of it and scanned the audience, mostly stranger’s faces. Did they know how nervous I was? Could they see the butterflies? Trying to steady myself, I glanced across the many faces until I came to Dad’s. Our eyes met, and he smiled.

That was the moment I needed. I dove into my performance and quickly found my footing. I delivered every word and made every gesture. I varied cadence and tone in all the right spots. I saw the words as I spoke them, saw their flow coming

from me. I stood and told a great story, sat at the low points, addressed the audience with fantastical verve. For those ten minutes I felt myself glow, like a hundred flashlights shone on me. The weight of the audience’s attention came to me. I held that weight and gave it back – because Dad was there.

When the piece was over, loud applause came to my ears as everyone stood and clapped and cheered. I could think of nothing to do except bow a little. What a relief. Suddenly overwhelmed by all the attention, I hurried off-stage. I watched the other performances, still with a racing heart, but also with the sizzle of adrenaline and coolness of relief.

After all the performances, the props put away and the curtain pulled back, students mingled with friends and family. Jenny and Liz congratulated me on a great performance, and Mr. Deignan hugged me. Parents came up to me.

“That was wonderful! Well done!”

“Congratulations! You were great!”

A man shook my hand. “Young lady, I hope you pursue acting.”

As I walked through the crowd, looking for Dad, a familiar voice rang out through the commotion. This voice was steeped in pride, a voice whose boasting words floated from a smiling mouth.

“That’s my daughter.”

LORNA ROSE: FOOTNOTES I write narrative nonfiction and poetry from Wenatchee. I’ve been writing since I was little, and had this on-again off-again relationship with it for a long time. When my son was born in 2013, I decided to get serious about it. My work has appeared in several literary magazines, and my first book-length work, a memoir, was a finalist in 2017’s Pacific Northwest Writers’ Association contest. I’m also Chairwoman of Write On The River, a literary nonprofit supporting writers in North Central Washington.

Do you have a dedicated writing location?

You can find me writing at Cafe Mela often. I also have an antique roll-away desk at home that I adore; I use that in the evenings after the kids go down. Ideally I have a lot of natural light, although I’ve found writing outside too distracting.

How often are you writing?

I make every effort to write most days. If I go more than a few without getting to be creative, I get pent up. I’ve always got an essay or poem or book re-write going.

Do you write on paper or is it straight to the laptop?

I always start on paper. I find creativity comes easier that way, and that the result is better. I think it’s because I can slow down the process, and it feels more organic somehow.

Favorite writers/authors/poets?

Sherman Alexie, Cormac McCarthy, and Mary Oliver Do you listen to music while you write? Do you have any other writing rituals?

No music, but I do like some background noise. I’m a writer mom with two small children, so total silence seems unnatural to me.

What is your proudest moment as a writer?

It’s a tie between getting a piece accepted in the Jellyfish Review, a magazine I’ve long admired that accepts less than 2% of what they receive, and being called “fearless” by a fellow writer.

My website is lornarose.com Facebook is @bigthings2 and Twitter is @LornaARose.

I’d be honored to connect with you. C

THE COMET

loren meloy Prologue from Plasticity, a novel by Loren Meloy Ask Your Doctor Today Two humans were standing near the door of a windowless conference room.

It was an unusually clear day in Seattle and sunset was almost an hour ago, so they were nearing the end of the blue hour. That dim, cool light mixed with the light of two or three flickering fluorescent tubes to cast a sickly pall on the skin of everyone in the room. Opposite those two were six other beings. They appeared ominous, zombie-like, their exact species up for debate. An observer might have described them as drunken aliens who’d forgotten where they parked their spaceship, not realizing they were still in the building. They groaned loudly and swayed side-to-side, wandering around the back half of the room, furthest from the trace of natural light through the door. These other six beings were human, of course, it was just a cool way of setting the scene. Sometimes people embellish when they tell stories. Some people even believe it’s an essential part of storytelling.

“I thought you said the alcohol should take care of the pressure on their brains!”

Genesis said, “You know, ‘kill brain cells’ and all that.”

“No, that’s a myth. Alcohol does not directly kill brain cells,” Dr. Adams said, as he flicked a hypodermic needle. “It’s hell on the liver though. The alcohol was to distract them and... lessen the struggle.”

After delivering what he thought was one hell of a line to his panicking assistant, Dr. Adams slowly danced his way through the groaning, inebriated test participants who had entrusted Dr. Adams with their well being. He felt ambivalent about letting them down. One by one he injected them with a serum that he wasn’t 100% sure would help or make things worse. Some people say he’s irresponsible. How do they know his middle name?

“That should do it,” he said.

Genesis asked, “What did you give them?”

“I’m not entirely sure, considering I had less than four hours to cook it up,” he said.

At that moment, all six participants stopped whatever drunken activity they were attempting and seized. They weren’t quite grand mal seizures, closer to febrile seizures, but it was still jarring. Nobody - not even Dr. Adams - could come away unscarred after watching six people seize in near unison, like an untalented and epileptic team of synchronized swimmers. Almost as suddenly as they began their seizures, they started screaming and writhing, then suddenly stopped and collapsed in a heap. In their seizing, they’d almost made a huddle, which made it all the more unsettling when they made a pile.

“Oh my god! What the hell was that!” Genesis screamed, “and why are you smiling?!”

She ran over to the pile of bodies to check for pulses and breathing. She was still shocked, but relieved to find everyone still alive.

Dr. Adams was pumping his fist and said, “Yes! It worked! That was so awesome.”

She asked, “What do you mean ‘it worked’? You meant for that to happen?”

“A seizure can mean, among other things, that the brain needs to flush out dead brain tissue and spinal fluid,” he explained, “and that’s exactly what we wanted to happen.”

“Dead brain tissue? Where did that come from?” She asked.

Dr. Adams went from elated to thoughtful, to concerned, and back to elated. He walked over to one of the limp bodies and grabbed them by the ankles to begin dragging them out of the room.

“I’m hoping it was just something auxiliary. Nothing from the speech center, or anything that would leave them paralyzed,” he said, between drags. “We’ll lug them up to Dr. Lily’s truck and you two can take them home. Maybe you can leave a $20 and a little note saying ‘The experiment was a success! Thank you for your contributions to science.’ Or some shit like that.”

Genesis stood there, stunned. Dr. Adams progressed to the stairs. Genesis was still frozen.

Dr. Adams said, “I have no problem dragging them up the stairs by myself, but something tells me you’ll object to the thumping of their heads. So, do you want to help?” C

JUNE 2019

13

holly thorpe Fishing You fumble for her heart like a light switch in the dark.

Seize it and sink your fingers in up to the first knuckle.

It squirms in your grip, alive and hot.

You remember stringing worms onto hooks on the dock and how the sun came down with a vengeance.

You’d burn — you always did.

Skin blistering, peeling, once, maybe twice.

The fresh skin underneath like cream: soft and white.

You met her at a bar never mean to keep her — although her eyes reminded you of your first girlfriend, soft and brown and sleepy — and that made you feel strong.

You kept her when you realized she was in love with you, and you could make her cry just by calling her the wrong name.

The first time she said she was leaving, you laughed at her.

Asked her where she would go at this hour.

She collapsed in the living room.

Slept on the couch.

Pretended like it never happened over dinner.

You haven’t fished in a long time, but you remember the feeling of a nibble.

A bite.

You know instinctually to move swiftly, drive the hook deep into the flesh.

Run it through a gill, if necessary.

You know how to hold the line taught.

The day she leaves you beg her not to, then throw her things on the floor while she packs a bag.

You follow her screaming while she quietly removes her toothbrush from the cup near the sink.

When she pushes past you to put it in her bag, you break the bathroom mirror.

14

JUNE 2019

It stays broken for three months.

After an hour of nothing — no movement on the line, you’d pull up the hook and inspect the pale, gelatinous thing impaled there.

Picking it off and flicking it into the water You’d pluck a red worm from the dark soil and begin to twist it’s thrashing form over the hook.

Watching the sinker carry the line deeper, you swat at deer flies that draw blood on the back of your calves.

You cupped your hands and created a tidepool between your palms.

Peering into the microcosm contained there, you thought you held the ocean, but you only glimpsed it.

Strange to fall in love with sea when it comes and goes with the moon.

When it is distant in its vastness and cold in its depth.

Strange to fall in love with sea when you cannot breathe saltwater.

Looking upon its surface you saw yourself reflected.

You saw the waking world and its stars and lights, and forgot about the inky black, the eternal night, beneath those crystalline waves.

It’s there, in darkness, living among monsters, where the soul of the thing resides.

With the moon on its surface, it becomes a reflection of the space above you, as black, and as frigid, but there are no stars there.

It’s there, in darkness, that you discover who you’ve tried to hold in between your palms while your feet were planted firmly on the shore.

Strange to fall in love with the sea, and not the monsters below its surface.

Strange to fall in love with sea, and be unwilling to brave its waters.

THE COMET HOLLY THORPE: FOOTNOTES

If my Instagram is to be believed, I’m a freelance journalist, amateur poet and fledgling novelist. My focus is mostly on poetry right now. I write freelance poetry about a range of subjects, mostly dealing with mental health, relationships and the natural world. My goal is to eventually teach writing at the college level. I live in my hometown of Wenatchee with my cat and giant dog and enjoy reading, tea and true crime podcasts. Let’s talk about writing together!

Do you have a dedicated writing location?

My writing location varies with my mood and schedule, but realistically, most of my writing happens in bed. I tend to have bursts of inspiration right as I’m dozing off, grab my phone, and type poems into the Notes app. I know, I know, it’s probably a bad habit and totally not as romantic as a cafe or office, but it’s what works for me.

How often are you writing?

I write for a living, so damn near every day. But I don’t do my creative writing (poetry, short stories, novel work, etc.) that often. I’d say I work on something creative at least once a week. If I’m not writing, I try to read lots of good books and poetry to keep that part of my brain happy and buzzing.

Do you write on paper or is it straight to the laptop?

Like I said, I do a lot of writing on my phone. Especially short form stuff. But longer form writing and ALL editing happens on a laptop. Someday I want to be the type of person who does all their first drafts by hand in a nice leather notebook, but right now I’m leaning into my insomniac millennial habits.

Favorite writers/authors/poets?

I’m a big Kurt Vonnegut and Stephen King fan. I also adore the likes of JD Salinger, Ray Bradbury and John Steinbeck (except The Pearl - god, I hate that book). Recently I’ve been discovering the magic of Michael Crichton, J.R.R.Tolkien (I know, I’m late to the party), Margaret Atwood and others. Poets like T.S. Eliot, Edgar Allan Poe, Robert Frost, Charles Bukowski and Pablo Neruda got me into poetry when I was younger, and recently I’ve been falling in love with Alison Hawthorne Deming, Neil Hilborn and just about everything else I’ve been reading in class and in Poetry Magazine.

Do you listen to music while you write? Do you have any other writing rituals?

Sometimes. I don’t have a great attention span, so tunes can help me focus (shoutout to “lofi hip hop radio - beats to relax/study to” on Youtube). Specific music can also mood for certain stanzas or scenes. Instrumental video game music and movie soundtracks are a lot of fun to write to. As for rituals, tea is a pleasantry, but not a necessity. When I have an idea, I write it down. When a poem starts happening in my head, I write it down. There’s rarely time for ritual.

What is your proudest moment as a writer?

As a journalist, I had a lot of proud moments where I covered hard stories or did particularly difficult interviews. But it feels like I haven’t accomplished a lot as a creative writer. I think my proudest moments have been reading my poetry at open mics, specifically Four Minutes of Fame with Write on the River. As a poet, I so rarely get to watch people react in real-time to my words, and when they do react and they have these big, heartfelt experiences because of something I wrote down on a piece of paper and then read to them, it feels really special. It reminds me why we do artsy stuff anyway: to create feelings out of a thin air.

Any links to share?

Oh, plenty. Here’s what comes immediately to mind, though: I subscribe to the Poetry Foundation’s Poem-a-Day email, and it brings me daily doses of enlightenment and joy. Find it, and many, many, many poems at poetryfoundation.org.

Support your local writing organizations! Write on the River has been a joy to be a part of. I particularly recommend reading the fiction contest winners this year.

They’re funny, thoughtful and pleasant reminders of the vast well of talent in this valley. writeontheriver.org Ron Evans showed me a YouTube video “An Evening with Ray Bradbury 2001” (https:// youtu.be/_W-r7ABrMYU) and I swear it’s comfort food for the creative soul. Make some tea, pour some whiskey - do whatever it is you do - and enjoy it sometime.

THE COMET

cory calhoun John With The 37 Faces John with the 37 faces pressed the buzzer. Slicked down a stray hair in his part.

Blinked and blinked and blinked and blinked and blinked. He heard footsteps and cheery, muffled voices approaching from behind the door.

Maisy with the 28 faces answered. Dozens of pairs of her eyes flitted in and out of existence, all moving from John’s faces to the violets clutched anxiously in his sweaty palm. Tens of his Adam’s apples bobbed as he gulped. Hundreds of his teeth revealed themselves through timid grins. He offered her the bouquet.

“Hello,” his voices said, all swiftly eliding and overlapping in an unbroken sonic string. “Hope you like purple.”

She laughed. Tens of Maisy’s cheeks flushed slightly. She delighted in the registers of his voices, an appealing mix of staccato sopranos and rumbling basses.

“You’re too sweet!” She hugged him, wary of bringing her faces too close to his. She didn’t want to merge too early, if at all. She’d see how the night went.

She showed him in. Her faces showcased a rotation of East Indian, Nordic and Polynesian features and skin tones. As they sat on the credenza, John’s eyes scanned the room. A cluster of lenticular family photos here, an antique violin mounted over the fireplace there, a community of tomato plants occupying her windowsill. And, of course, the pulsating eye in the ceiling.

“It’s closed,” John stuttered. He couldn’t believe it. A closed eye.

“Connections,” she purred as she poured him a triglass of wheat lager, Gewürztraminer and licorice tea. “Only one night a year.”

Holy shit, John thought, we’re gonna merge.

Then a dead man crashed through Maisy’s kitchen window, landing headfirst into a ficus, his crisp pinstripe suit bloodied. The angle of his entry suggested he swung or dove from a great height.

Scaffolding drooped away from the high rise across the street, cantilevering out like one of John’s violets. It creaked lazily in the high breeze. Hundreds of shouts from the city dwellers below. Cars evacuated accordingly.

Suicide? thought John and Maisy after their own shock passed. This part of the city was rife with suicides lately. John theorized a vague connection to all the new eyes growing daily in homes and businesses, but the thought passed.

“Call the police!” John rubbed his neck, sipping absentmindedly from his triglass.

“Not yet.”

“Why?” The eye stirred beneath its closed lid.

“No,” she hissed at it. “They promised.” She put her faces millimeters from John’s.

“Let’s check his wallet,” she whispered like white noise, aroused. The eye stilled, pulsating almost imperceptibly, its ever-present hum barely louder than her refrigerator.

“Why?” squeaked John. The pit of his stomach soured.

“Curiosity.” Before he could protest, she reached into his blazer and hit pay dirt. John shifted uneasily as she opened the man’s wallet. His ID said he was a 30/40-facer from Queens named Dub Giles. She tilted it back and forth, viewing images of his multiple faces via the card’s lenticular surface. Some West African, some Indo-Chinese in there. Some French. All with a sad, life-worn, lovelorn look.

John paced out in the hall, anxious, collecting his wits. Maisy followed, annoyed. Old

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Mrs. Krantz with the 67 faces poked her head out her door, scowling. John brought her up to speed while Maisy phoned the police. When John finished, Mrs. Krantz nodded, cinched up her robe, and locked her door behind her.

John went back in but Maisy remained in the hall, whispering into the phone. John gave her privacy, returning to the credenza, twiddling his thumbs, breathing deeply, avoiding the sleeping eye.

Maisy entered with a sly smile. “We’ve got time,” she said, “Help me. I want to see his face.”

John’s faces all paled. When he was nine (still in the prepubescent 5/10-facer range), his uncle had a heart attack during a fishing trip. As they sat together alone in a dinghy in the middle of a lake at dawn, John watched his uncle clutch his chest, gasping, his faces slowing in frequency, becoming more and more static, until there was a single, gaping, craggy mask (Inuit, the coroner later confirmed) staring lifelessly at him.

She cocked her head. “I can do it myself if you like.”

He considered if helping would improve his chances of merging. He was desperate.

He shrugged and stood.

On the count of three, they flung the man back with awkward force. John squinted his eyes tightly. Maisy fell hard on her ass, potting soil spilling onto her sundress.

The dead man was now on his back, legs pointing skyward and perpendicular to her kitchen sink.

John kept a hand over his eyes, lest one of them accidentally open. “So?” Maisy sat in silent horror as she stared at the man. Where his faces should have been, there were none. Not even a frozen single face. It was blank, fleshy and the most horrifying thing she’d ever seen.

A string of frightened gasps and expletives escaped her mouths like blaring radio static. She scrambled to the credenza.

Before John could ask what she saw, and before Maisy could compose herself, the eye snapped open and consumed them both. Dub Giles was also consumed. Dub Giles, who had been thrown from rickety scaffolding minutes earlier. Dub Giles, who had 34,948 faces as a side effect of the antidepressants he took, all of which blurred by too fast to register.

On a nearby rooftop, a man in a black hoodie peered through a sniper scope and waved off another man at his side. “It’s done,” he said into a burner phone. “No witnesses. Let’s go.”

The police arrived. When no one answered Maisy’s door, they checked in with Mrs. Krantz, who offered no help. She locked her door, fed her cats, removed the makeup from her faces, took her antidepressants and drifted off to sleep. It was good to finally have some peace and quiet. C

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Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m No Professional...But I Built This Patio Roof For Only $155.00 written by tiffany cutrone and inspired by the collage below by chad yenney

Her eyes became famished and revitalized all at once, as she stares into the starry millennium that is twisting and contorting completely suspended as it hollows out the cranium of her neighbor. His demeanor says that he was just a man trying to enjoy a casual bourbon after a work day; no one ever knows when unfortunate fate will come for them. She could see as his slippers were becoming engorged masses of mush on his concrete patio as the hose he had been wrangling about to water his crisp grass -his yard, clearly something he took great pleasure in- continued to spurt about at his feet.

His body now petrified in a constant state of a suburban fantasy.

The serenade unfolds and shimmers but the continuous yap of his miniature dog trapped inside the home as its owner is being depleted- a manâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s best friend even in their final moments- served to disenchant her for a few sobering breaths. Her ears become aware that the yap was much grander than this little guy for it had cascaded down the streets, deepening their pleas as it took over the throats of what she could surmise was every dog for miles to come. They all cry out together in the mourning of an owner. She thought of their cries like those of a community banding together to preach of all the unjust in the world, but there were no news cameras, no sermons to be had, no intellectuals to weigh in on the matter. No, there was none of this. It was just them and their cries.

Her empathy for her neighbor was fleeing in the wake of awe. There was no denying the ever curious nature of mankind that sought to absorb and make knowledge their own. A selfish want of anything and everything that was not theirs. She knew that she should rush over to his aid without a second thought to her own preservation, but how could she when this enigma excited her whole being? She wanted to watch this man- this man of simple comforts- be transformed into something more imposing.

This man of dress slacks and business lunches and bbq season and conservative dirty mags, because he was a man of God, but a man nonetheless, be converted into so much more. She feels no shame for watching this mystery apparition envelop everything that is him. Her body ceaselessly sinking deeper and deeper into the wood of the fence as if being sucked into the plasma spasm that continued to pervert her neighborâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s existence and her own perception of humanity. All the while the hairs on her arms were straining to reach out as the midsummer air grew electric.

The glare of this substance mesmerized as it twinkled and flared in graceful chaos.

Watching for so long had made her feel as though her soul had begun to move in unison with It. There was a lure to this kind of celestial jazz and she began to thirst for it, for at this point she was nearly crawling atop the fence in hope of making contact with Its presence. Her senses seemed to heighten as she drew closer to It. Unable to contain herself, she drops onto his pristine lawn and begins to grovel; for Its energy has seduced her conscience. The Earth felt moist and healthy as it sponged her in, welcoming her to this strange new beginning much like the eager arms of a budding religion as new followers were introduced. Her movements looked like those of a woman once completely depraved of God, now turned rabid by the mere thought of His existence, but this, this was no God designed to bring mercy to man. She can no longer hear the incessant yap, but rather the trampling of insects within the Earth and above seeking out this same ethereal aura; the sound was deafening.

She drags herself limb by limb in the hopes to keep awareness long enough to feel as her consciousness is eclipsed by It. She wants to offer up her body and blood to It in the hopes of feeling, if only for a moment, Its raw being. Her mind lost in thought as she begins to grasp the full weight of her body and the notion of existing in a self that has been rotting away since she had made her first breath. We are all slowly rotting like the untouched fruit bowl in the kitchen with the presence of fruit flies being our only hope for excitement. She wants to be rid of it. She wants to be freed for her body is too constricting. She wants now to give herself over and be delivered to the universe that seems to be forming in front of her eyes. Yes, she thinks, I want to return home and implode to bring new life.

She has reached the base of his feet and there she kneels staring into the tornado of bursting suns. Her body and mind supreme. She stands to face him and her mind is warped and gone. The two stand adjacent from one another with It connecting them where their faces once were. It is there that It grew as person by person, town by town, city by city, it consumed them. Their divine demise similar to the ever flirting sirens of the sea, for who can deny oneself the flesh of man? C

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caleb seims In the Depths of Space The gentle beeping of an alarm going off in the distance, wakes him and reminds him that he is still alive. The usual melancholy mood that Steven had known, was replaced with immense despair and a longing that he had somehow passed on in his sleep. The odd empty sensation made him question what had changed. Why does he feel this sense of worthlessness now? The conflicting nature of wanting now to give up or whether to keep on fighting was truly troubling. Sitting on the edge of his bed he runs his fingers through his thinning long hair and his unkept stubble. His clothes lay already set up and awaiting him from the night before. The shower was cold, it has not been hot in quite some time. He has stopped noticing things like the temperature of the shower. He has been the only passenger to set foot aboard the ship, the only passenger for 3 three years.

As he walks into the room, “Good morning Steven.” Says B.L.A.I.R. the ships operating system.

He doesn’t respond.

“Shall I run today’s report?”

Still no response.

As Steven slowly meanders over to the dining area B.L.A.I.R. begins the report, “August 4th, the navigation system is crippled and there is a leak in the fuel tank which needs repairing.” This was followed by more and more minor systems beginning to fail. With it mostly being the same issues everyday, he has stopped listening or even caring and at times found it annoying. He already knows how many days of oxygen are onboard and the amount of food he has left. Sighing in disappointment, he wished that something had gone critical and was life threatening. The thought that he would be lost out here perfectly able to live longer tortured him.

“What is the matter Steven?”

“Nothing.” As he drank his breakfast shake. “God I’m tired of this sludge.”

“What is on your agenda today?” B.L.A.I.R. questioned.

“Well I was thinking that I would do what I did yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.” He said in a dull voice.

“Sounds wonderful.”

He has read all the books to the point that the pages are thin and have started to separate from the spine. He could watch the one movie the ship has in its system but he has seen it so many times that he has memorized every word. He could exercise but what would be the point? Even the music that he loved has now soured over time. At this point the only thing that does pass the time is going out on a spacewalk to float in the vastness of space.

“Why do you go out there Steven?” B.L.A.I.R. asked.

“Well I look around at the view and I think.” He said putting the protective space suit on.

“What do you think about?”

“Things.”

“Such as?”

“I think about everything, life, death, the universe, earth,” He pauses for a moment, “my family.”

“Do you miss them?” B.L.A.I.R. questions.

“Very much.” He mutters to himself .

While floating out in the depths of space tethered to the ship that anchors him, he couldn’t shake how conflicted he felt. The absolute desire to give up had engulfed him, but he was ashamed to think and feel such things. He yearned to cut the cord and release himself. He yearned to finally let go and be free from the mundane of his survival.

But he couldn’t. He had a family he thought to himself. How could he just want to give up? He heard of people who have been in truly awful situations and still didn’t give up hope on returning to their families. What else could he do though?

His day would end with a dinner that he did not care for. The dishes would be cleaned by B.L.A.I.R. and prepared for the next day while he would take another cold shower and get ready for another restless sleep. Lying in bed, he would often fantasize about being home with family, his daughter Kim and his wife Emma. Although he knew he would never see them again. The only thing that he had as any form of companion-

ship left was B.L.A.I.R. “B.L.A.I.R.?” He called out.

“Yes Steven?”

“You wouldn’t leave me would you?”

“I will always be here.”

A tear rolls down his cheek as he sighs one more time and goes to sleep dreading that one day, he may wake up without her.

The gentle beeping of an alarm going off in the distance, wakes him and reminds him that he is still alive. As he gets up to go to the bathroom, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He notices his eyes are sunken in and his skin is quite pale. He chuckles to himself at the idea that he looks just like how he feels on the inside.

Just like for the past 3 years he does what he has always done. Day after day after day. Now with an ever-growing sense of remorse and self-pity. Sometimes, when feeling wistful, he goes back and watches his old journal logs he first started making at the beginning of his voyage. Although it is hard for him to watch them, it also reminds him of a better time when he had hope in returning home or before things went wrong. He can see the life within himself and see how positive he was trying to get back home but now; he has lost all hope in his return.

In the 3 years that he had been stranded amongst the stars, going out on a spacewalk was something to keep him entertained at the very least. He could look out at the millions of bright twinkling lights and a vast array of colorful galaxies and feel a true sense of bewilderment. But over time those feelings of awe and wonder turned bitter. After countless hours witnessing sites never seen by man, a pulsating nebula is just another cluster of stars and a star is just another star. No different than the last.

The gentle beeping of an alarm going off in the distance, wakes him and reminds him that he is still alive. Aboard this ship there aren’t many things that he can tie back to home. What he does on the ship doesn’t affect Earth and nothing on Earth can affect him. But in all the time that he has spent out in the cosmos only one thing can.

B.L.A.I.R. begins the daily report “August 14th, the navigation system is crippled and there is a leak in the fuel tank which needs repairing” along with the various other systems starting to fail. Steven is getting dressed in the same clothes yet again and makes another breakfast shake when he notices something.

“B.L.A.I.R. what day is it?” He questioned.

“It is August 14th.”

“W-what?” He questions. “What do you mean it’s the 14th?”

Confused and concerned, Steven runs to the computer pulling up the calendar confirming that it is in fact the 14th. Unable to believe what is happening he runs a system check to see if anything had malfunctioned. It did not. In a blind fury he smashes his fist down on the keys and screams louder than ever before. After all this time the day he thought he would never forget, had passed.

“Kim’s birthday was ten days ago?” He says with tears in his eyes.

He crumbles down to the floor and begins to weep hysterically. Curling into a ball the tears pour from his eyes. He couldn’t believe that he missed such an important day.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” He muttered through his distress.

“Shall I prepare dinner Steven?”

“No.” Deeper now in the black pit of sorrow, Steven puts on the same articles of clothing he has always worn to sleep. He lays in the bed wallowing in his self-hatred and depression, trying to sleep. The longer he laid there motionless the more he thought about his death.

Steven went back to try and figure out a way to fix the navigation and the crack in the fuel tank, even though he knew that there was no fuel left. He thought that with one last try maybe he could figure something out, some way he could get back home. But his neglect to follow up on the daily reports had led to more problems. He still had plenty of supplies, but the ships system had begun to slowly fail.

The following morning, he awakes to the sound of silence, no alarm. He rolls over to see that the time is 11 o’clock, which is unusual because he is usually making his breakfast at nine. He pulls the sheets off him and feels the temperature is colder than usual as well. He runs his fingers through his even thinner long hair and what has now turned into a short scraggly beard. His clothes lay where they were last night before he went to bed instead of them being ready for him. He walks out to the main deck of the ship

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confused about what was happening.

“B.L.A.I.R.?” He calls out.

No response.

“B.L.A.I.R.!”

No response.

“Computer, system report.” He demanded.

No response, only silence swept the air.

He walked over to the computer trying to solve what was happening. Overnight the ship had drifted too close to a sun and a solar flare struck the ship, causing the computer to malfunction. All the ships data and basic functions had ceased including B.L.A.I.R. As the thought of now being alone entered his mind he felt more lost than ever.

“B.L.A.I.R.?” He called out again with a crack in his voice.

“Please don’t leave me.”

CALEB SEIMS: FOOTNOTES My name is Caleb Seims and I was born and raised here in the Wenatchee valley. I have been writing since I was about 16 years old and was inspired to start writing by my father, who was an avid writer himself. He would let me help with some of his stories which really got me the taste for it. I only really got into writing my own stories after he had passed away. I would write really dark short stories trying to express my angst as a young kid. After a while tried writing in different styles and about different topics. I eventually found my way to script writing and have been working in that style.

Do you have a dedicated writing location?

I don’t really have a dedicated spot; I mostly do my writing either at home or at work on lunch.

How often are you writing?

I used to write a lot more in the past. I have kind of stopped more recently but am looking forward to picking it back up with some new ideas.

Do you write on paper or is it straight to the laptop?

I go straight to the laptop. Sometimes if I have an idea for something, I will write it down, but my handwriting is atrocious and sometimes I can’t read it.

Favorite writers/authors/poets?

Well when I got started writing, my favorite author was Edgar Allan Poe, as all angsty troubled kids is. Some of my favorite writers are comic book writers like Alan Moore who wrote Batman: The Killing Joke and Watchmen and as well as Mark Millar and Frank Miller.

Do you listen to music while you write? Do you have any other writing rituals?

I do listen to music, but I try to avoid anything with lyrics. I usually go to YouTube and look up psychedelic rock and just go from there.

What is your proudest moment as a writer?

I honestly think this is my proudest moment as a writer. I’ve never submitted my writing for anything, so this is kind of big.

by William Shakespeare

Come enjoy a magical evening of Theatre in the Numerica PAC Courtyard!

JULY

11-13 & 18-20

Sponsored by

Avalon Music • Cynthia Brown • Jaime Donegan Dave & Linda Herald • Scott Isaacson Vern & Julie Smith • Adele Wolford

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how bizarre: spontaneous human combustion

by ron evans We have all seen the horrific photos. A human corpse splayed pathetically about on the floor. A pile of smoldering ash where their torso once lived. Extremities strangely intact. Surroundings, bedding, furniture etc. essentially unsinged. Spontaneous human combustion. The fire from within.

Theories were forming about these being some kind of poltergeist or even demonic activity. I mean the Bible was clear about a lake of fire. It never said it wouldn’t come from within your own sinning tummy, right?

There were theories amongst early investigators that were more grounded in sciNow, as a life-long sufferer of acid reflux, ence including chemical reactions in the I feel like I have just enough of a hunch of gut. Ultimately that didn’t really make the horrors that a tummy fire would pres- much sense and a few brave souls have ent one unfortunate victim. So imagine even experimented with putting certain my high levels of fear as I discovered this food combinations, chemicals, oils and phenomenon one late night on the Art drugs down their gullet. And just waiting Bell show (as I had discovered so many to see what happens. Nuttin’. things I write about here in The Spacepo... oh, right. It’s How Bizarre now. I’ll explain So what gives? We do have something why later). happening here. This isn’t like so many things in the paranormal world where The thought of just minding your own we don’t have evidence. We have bodbusiness while watching The Simpsons ies. Seemingly burned from within, again one night and all of a sudden...FLASH. without so much as a sooting stain on the A galldurn tummy fire! I mean...’the fuck adjacent walls and carpet. outta here! Seriously? This is a real thing?

One ghastly case involved a man leanOk. So, no less than 100 or so cases have ing over a table and catching ablaze. He been reported as being of the spontaneous was found days later by his neighbor who human combustion variety over the past said the man’s rib cage and hipbone were century. There are variables, of course, plainly visible and he could even see the but the overwhelming majority of the in- kitchen table through it. But the rest of cidents have more in common than not. him was still intact, so much so that the All the trademarks I mentioned above. neighbor called the man’s name and asked if he was alright. He was not.

Most of the victims however, were in bed, It seemed unlikely since one would guess a reclining chair or splayed out on the that a fire hot enough to melt through a floor. dude would not just fizzle out like that.

So what gives?

The best research that I have come across concerning spontaneous combustion has actually been from tv shows focusing on the paranormal. Tests using sheep stomachs were done, individual cases were studied and charts about similarities were drawn up. There were only a few things linking these cases together. One, the victims were almost always elderly.

But when they put piggy to the test, they found some interesting things. The pig was placed on a mattress in a fire containment test room and gently set ablaze with a candle flame. Initially the flame trickled over the outer flesh of the pig and started catching surrounded bedding on fire. But this fire quickly snuffed itself out and the pig continued to burn self-contained for over two hours! At this point another bedding fire started up and the entire room was soon aflame. But that test proved that a body could in fact contain a very hot and powerful inferno without necessarily spreading to nearby objects.

This gave researchers a new take on the idea including looking at certain medications that seniors were likely to be on.

But the real breakthrough was when they stopped looking inside and started think- So the takeaway is that these were all ing more about the rooms in which these mundane fires likely started by some outdeaths occurred. side ignition source and somehow the body contained it, where in most cases Using pig corpses (apparently we have the flames would have spread to the ensimilar fatty flesh that should in theory tire room or house. The rareness of this burn with the same rate and intensity. type of fire made them seem supernatural, Which leads me to believe people would and the way we burn like a candle wick make amazing bacon.) the researchers set made it look like the fire started in our up ‘what if’ scenarios. Like what if these guts. Neat, huh? Now, who’s ready for bapeople had simply fallen on something con! C aflame (a candle or a lantern) and the fire burnt their insides?

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THE DOC IS IN: weight loss myths

Q: “I’ve tried everything to lose weight, but nothing works.

What can I do?”

The implication is that all calories are created equal in the energy they provide.

This is not at all true. Calories from simple carbohydrates, simple sugars, are quick burning energy. Calories from fat are long burning sustainable energy.

MYTH #2:

A: If you are struggling to lose ALLEGRA HART weight and have Naturopathic Physician “tried everything,” it’s likely that you’re not trying the right approach for you. That can be frustrating and confusing because there are so many people out there in the billion-dollar diet industry screaming about how their approach is going to work for you. It gets really disheartening. Often people give up, and depression can take hold. It becomes a war with yourself, a war with food, and it’s not an enjoyable process. We need to look at the other factors that play a role in cultivating your balanced weight effortlessly.

MYTH #1: A calorie is a calorie, is a calorie.

Reduced calories will help you lose weight.

This is actually true and false. When reducing calories, yes, initially you will lose weight, but then your metabolism adjusts.

Over time your metabolism will slow down; which means it is harder to keep excess weight off.

MYTH #3: There is a one-size-fits-all diet.

In reality, we all have different dietary needs, different digestive needs, different enzyme capabilities, and different abilities to break down foods. If you’re constantly eating foods you’re intolerant to, your whole body will be more irritated and inflamed.

Assessing food intolerances is something Remember, one breath, one bite, one step I do with every patient. Once you remove at a time is all you need to create true and these obstacles, it is much easier to natu- lasting changes in your health. rally balance your weight.

ABOUT DR. ALLEGRA HART If your hormones are out of balance, it will Dr. Allegra Hart is a licensed naturopathic be a struggle to maintain a healthy weight. physician, speaker, author of NourishWe need to make sure your hormones are ing Space Within: Essentials of Self-Care, not an obstacle for a healthy weight. For founder of Naturae Naturopathic Clinic example, if your thyroid is out of balance, and Dr. Allegra’s Apothecary and works especially when low functioning, it is go- with patients worldwide. ing to make it easier to pack on pounds.

When estrogen and progesterone are out Dr. Allegra specializes in helping women of balance your body is going to hang on cultivate natural self-care and rebuild their to more weight. health from the inside out. If we as individuals can do the work necessary to set a Stress management is key to long term healing foundation on our own- the ripple weight loss. When you are stressed for effect will inevitably ignite others to do the long periods of time, cortisol (a stress hor- same. mone) levels go up, when cortisol levels go up, it is very difficult to lose weight.

If you have a question for Dr. Allegra, email us at info@naturaeclinic.com with the subI invite you to look at your weight from ject “The Doctor Is In Question”. C a different angle. Ask your doctor to help you assess if your hormones are balanced and if you are eating the best diet for you.

Make sure you have a plan to reset so you can fall back in love with food and it can become an enjoyable resource, an ally for you.

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by ron evans

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CONTINUED IN THE NEXT ISSUE OF THE COMET

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