ISSUE #2 JAN 2007 $1.00
http://thejist.info
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Cover Art by Mason Balistreri
About The Jist is an online and printed zine which features art, poetry, philosophy and culture articles. The goal for the zine is to connect groups of people to inspire and be inspired. The jist is a place for the thoughtful to think and the thoughtless to reconnect. The zine is released every month. The content can be found online at http://thejist.info or through the magazine. Currently the magazine has a circulation of around 100 copies. After this issue, we hope to expand that to around 500. If you have the ability to print copies of the zine, please contact us - perhaps a deal can be arranged.
Contribute We are always looking for new content to put in the zine. You can email us at thejist.info@gmail.com or register for an account on the website http:// thejist.info. Once you register for the site, you are automatically made a contributor - this means you can post content directly for review at any moment. I urge you to do this, the more people we get, the better we will become.
Connect As more people join the jist, bigger and better things can happen. We will inspire to be inspired: Philosophy will affect art will affect poetry will affect music will affect culture. We will grow and build upon each other. We are an open community - we will listen, we will help, we will grow.
Contributors/Artists Mason Balistreri William Panksy Chaz Ludwig Joanne Baker Jack Arnold Lydia Braun Tyler Wittenmyer Quintin Kilpatrick Coleman Howes Vladimir Moldavsky Andrew Spiess Zach Fletcher Ryan MacRitchie Matt Boroff
“Struggle” by Lydia Braun Digital Illustration
January Art Gallery by Mason Balistreri
Featured story
This month’s lead story isn’t much of a story at all - rather, it is an art gallery. December’s gallery was small but this month, we have expanded to include artists all over the country and world. William Panksy works out of Texas and is 21 years old. I have known him for nearly 3 years, in which time his work has pushed my own. His early vector work is what inspired me to learn Adobe Illustrator which in turn led to the jist tee shirts and the zine itself. William has included two photo manipulations for this issue of the zine. Look for more of William’s work in the next few issues. I have been following Lydia Braun’s work for the greater part of this past year and I am convinced she is one of the best illustrators on deviantart. One of the younger contributors, Lydia has really set the bar high for future work. I am really pleased Lydia contributed to the jist. I was casually browsing around deviantart one day and stumbled across Joanne Baker. The first thing I noticed was the word “philosophy” written in under the “interests” category. After checking her work out, I decided she was a much better artist than myself and that she had to be part of the jist. She agreed and will hopefully feature more of her work as the zine continues to grow. We also are featuring an artist named Vladimir Moldavsky from the Ukraine. His work is highly surreal and excellently done. I am really pleased Vladimir has contributed. Also thanks to my friends, Ryan MacRitchie and Matt Boroff who also contributed.
“.” by Joanne Baker, Traditional Mediums
Food Not Bombs
by Tyler
Money Doesn’t Grow On Trees, But Food Does! A small group of anarchists started a food not bombs in Bowling Green back in 2006. One of them lived in the Bowling Green Village apartment complex on the south side of town, so that seemed like the ideal place to have meals. We would print tons of quarter sheet fliers and put them on door handles of all of the apartments. We received food through donations from area businesses, cooked it at the apartments and served the food in a courtyard. Usually about a dozen or so people would come, old folks and young folks alike. Some people would bring their own food to share, potluck style. People would eat and converse for hours. Then we would clean up. Food not bombs went on like that for a few months, until the group of local anarchists began to melt away. First, one left seeking employment, and then another left the country for an extended period. Others graduated from the university and trickled off. The remainders got burnt out and moved to other locations as well. In the summer of 2007 one of the originals returned from being out of the country. A fellow traveler from Arizona who was interested in starting things up again contacted him. Some locals, students and people from the Toledo food not bombs got together and started putting meals together twice a month in BG. They started in the city park, and when the weather
turned cold they moved it into the united Christian fellowship building. Food not bombs in Bowling Green could be many things. I think it would work out as a good environment to build progressive, creative, and radical communities and groups in our town. It’s a good way to provide free food to hungry folks. It’s also a lot of fun, and builds culinary skills among other things. What is Food Not Bombs? Food Not Bombs is one of the fastest growing revolutionary movements and is gaining momentum throughout the world. There are hundreds of autonomous chapters sharing free vegetarian food with hungry people and protesting war and poverty. Food Not Bombs is not a charity. This energetic grassroots movement is active throughout the Americas, Europe, Africa, the Middle East, Asia and Australia. Food Not Bombs is organizing for peace and an end to the occupations of Iraq, Afghanistan and Palestine. For over 25 years the movement has worked to end hunger and has supported actions to stop the globalization of the economy, restrictions to the movements of people, end exploitation and the destruction of the earth. Held every second and fourth Saturday from 5pm to 7pm at the UCF in Bowling Green, Ohio, and every Friday at 4pm at the Tarta downtown bus stop on the corner of Erie and Madison in Toledo.
15 Movies I’m So Over, Why Aren’t You? by Chaz
These Movies Won’t Die! I know these movies were great the first time you watched them, but people, please, just shut up about them. Movies can quickly be ruined by how much hype they get, not from the critics, but from their annoying fans. I work at a local video store and it kills me when someone comes in and asks me something like “Oh my god did you see Napoleon Dynamite? It was seriously the best movie I have ever seen.” Now what I say is “Yeah I saw it. It was good.” I don’t say that because I want to, I say it because I will get fired if I tell a costumer to “pound sand.” Well anyways here they are, the top 15 movies people just need to get over, and the fans who ruin them. 15. Finding Nemo Finding Nemo was a a cute kids movie, but it was not a great Disney movie. Kids, parents, older brothers, older sisters, even grandma, and grandpa all went bonkers over Finding Nemo. Well I didn’t buy it. This movie was way over hyped the critics loved it and it made a ton of money but what really killed it was all of the kids and parents talking about how cute and funny it was. Ellen Degeneres is not funny, she is just annoying, just like Finding Nemo. 14. Forrest Gump Moms rejoice! A movie that took place back in your day, with your music, and your political issues. Well it’s the year 2007 and the world still loves Forest Gump. The line “Run Forrest, Run” is used every single time some one is running, and it’s still laughed at, but why? The world loves this movie and yes it’s good but Jesus it’s 13 years old so get over it, and stop quoting it.
13. Pulp Fiction This guy probably loves this movie.
He work’s a crappy job for the postal service and if I had to guess he’s probably going a little postal himself. Thank god that Pulp Fiction is here for him to enjoy his sick twisted sense of humor. If you have never seen this movie let me break it down for you. Sam Jackson plays a tough black guy, John Travolta plays a cool dude, Bruce Willis is a tough white guy, Uma Thurman is a drug whore, and Ving Rhames gets fucked in the ass by some hillbillies. This movie has no plot and just fulfills some film geeks fantasy. The distasteful scenes and warped fan boys really dampen this flick. 12. Napoleon Dynamite How much do I really have to say about this movie? How many “Vote for Pedro” shirts did you sees? This movie was butchered with the constant quotes and the Jr. High fan base.
11. Scarface OK gangsters listen to me right now, this advice could save your pathetic life. Tony Montana is not real. His lifestyle is not something to look up to. He did not have a good life. He was a drug addict, a violent cry baby, and at the end he dies! It’s like all of those stupid drug movies, he starts small, gets big, makes money, looses his cool, and dies. Much like the popularity of the movie. Starts small, gets big, makes money, started to loose it’s cool, now why won’t it just die? 10. Donnie Darko (read the back of case) “A surreal movie about a rabbit suit.”
Great. 9. American Beauty This is the movie you use to impress a girl. You want her to think that you’re a deep, sensitive, artistic young man. If she is smart she will realize you are an idiot to try to impress her with a movie about a sad bastard going through mid-life crisis who wants to have sex with a teenager. The people who like this movie want to be intellectual and understand life’s beauty.It is a good movie but the fans ruin it. Now it’s just a movie about a perv and is loved by smug teens and sad bastards.
8. 300 “Oh man that part where Leonidas killed like 10985098790 guys, and then that one guy said Fight in the shade, and then he yelled SPARTA! and then they all showed their chest oh man they were like so ripped I wish I was a spartan.” This movie was really really really gay. It wasn’t good, it wasn’t bad, just gay like the spartans. 7. American History X This movie is not “tight.” These damn hoods think this movie is the deepest film known to man. Well I would have to say it’s pretty straight froward. A racist guy and his racist friends hate people of a different race! Who would have thought? This movie is something people just need to get over. It’s not the greatest film ever made, it’s not life changing, it’s not ground breaking, it’s just another racial movie. The thing that really gets me is the fact that the only thing people seem to get out of this movie is the fact that some guy gets curb stomped. There is nothing appealing about that scene, so stop praising it like it’s something to model your life after. 6. Boondock Saints Rock on, punk rocker. Rock on.
5. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind Nerds and geeks have a hay day for Eternal Sunshine. Once again this movie is not a life changing experience. It’s just a big, smug, elitist, piece of crap.“Oh my god you haven’t seen Eternal Sunshine? You must be like a total square. That movie will change your unimportant simple life.” Keep it up oh wise smug intellects, you make me feel so much better. 4. Requiem for a Dream
Look people I get it. This movie made you feel depressed and sad. Requiem is a very well made film, but please just get over it! Stop ranting and raving about how you are gonna clean up your act, and how this movie made you cry, and made you decide to tell your mom you love her. With Requiem I have noticed that when a person sees it for the first time they become and instant “fan” when really no one likes this movie because it’s to sad and depressing.
3. Waking Life
The number of 15 year old kids who tell me that Waking Life is the best movie they have ever seen killed my interest in even watching it. In fact, this is the only movie on the countdown I have not seen. From what I have heard it’s “Amazing.” It has cool animation, so what? It also has a crappy fan base that ruined my chances of ever watching it. Is Waking Life more amazing than this other cartoon?
I think not. 2. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas It’s two guys going to Las Vegas while they are tripping balls. This movie sucks, it’s low life fans suck, and it’s way over hyped acclaim as being a “cultural milestone” is flat out ridiculous. College campuses and high schools all over the US are amazed at this mindless 2 hour video of a bad trip. It’s like a kid pissing it his own face, humorous but it still sucks.
1. Fight Club
Fight Club is the number 1 movie people just need to get over. The first time a person sees Fight Club they instantly think that God came down from heaven and said “It’s just one guy…. Tyler isn’t real.” Suddenly the viewer thinks to himself, “Oh my lord, what a genius ending. This is the greatest film I have ever seen.” Fight Club just sucks. I am sick of the fan boys, the twist that everyone has talked about and talked about and talked about, and the whole idea that a real Fight Club would be sweet. When a person is done watching Fight Club they usually want to go out and start a Fight Club. I wanted to fight my dad for deciding it would be a good idea to watch this overblown movie. The entire world seems to think Fight Club is some masterpiece that deserves to be on everyones top 10 greatest movies list, but it’s really just the opposite it needs to be the movie people just shut their mouths about. Fight Club may not be the most over-rated movie of all time, but is is the number one movie people need to get over and move on to something else.
“Airplane.” by Lydia Braun Digital Illustration
Suicidal Goldfish
by Mason Balistreri
People Who Own Goldfish Are Terrible. There is nothing good about a pet goldfish’s life. He swims loosely around his confined space with nothing to do but wallow in its own waste. There is no purpose for his life. In the ocean or sea where a gold fish originates, there is meaning through procreation but this will not happen in the confines of a small lonely tank. Not only is the situation for a goldfish bad, but it will always be bad. The fish will live and die in this way. If a man was forced to live as a goldfish, he would most likely kill himself. After 1 or 2 days it would become apparent that nothing new or good will ever occur. Suicide is a fair and reasonable thing to do for a fish. A goldfish though, cannot kill itself. It has no means of ending its suffering. Some people drown themselves but a goldfish cannot die in this manner, it must swim to the top of the tank and surface its’ entire body to suffocate: an impossible feat. A goldfish could kill itself by eating rocks - a death too painful and disgusting for any creature. Fish owners are selfish. Who can rightfully ask a creature to live in this way? If you ever see a goldfish in a tank help it. Save it if you can, return it to freer waters. If you cannot do this, then give the goldfish a way out or at least feed it to death.
Andrew Spiess Poetry II
These are some of my angriest poems.
I wrote most of ‘Do You Need a Hand?’ over a year ago, after a long night. I was hanging out with a lot of punk kids and we were talking, laughing, listening to music, and feeling fed up with everything. It’s a long story as well, and I won’t get into it, but the poem might sum it up anyway. I don’t know what to say about ‘Animal Mind’. It’s blunt and in-your-face, so to speak. Short and sour. I wrote ‘Deviant Hunt’ shortly after the last time I had a run in with the cops. I was very depressed and pissed off. This is the result.
Animal Mind all I ever want to do is fuck and fight we will not speak we will grunt and howl bare our teeth and breathe heavily all I ever need to do is release release your blood and instinct salivate in front of a plasma TV that would be nice
Deviant hunt
The front. Thick green sweat. Condescending wet chops. Hot grease. All I need is cream all I got is foam. In the mouth of a hound. Brash motherfucker with a set of bone metal knuckles. Tense dog blending in with smoke and brick. Harmless. Soft all the way through the inside. Sharp mask and erratic collar. War paint. Watching everyone get muzzled. Panicking over passing lightup cars. Appalling sirens. Crooked unremorseful uniform. Small Town is the name of a signpost shoved in a dry shallow hole. Revolted underground kids with dynamic voices. Manic youth confined in clinics. Big gap no exit. Blank off-white wall. Elaborate mural of boredom. So sublime when one can swallow loneliness over pride. Blow through the ceiling every time. Ok open up your skull. And as I stumble by an innocuous mutt on a leash I think damn he got fucked.
Do You Need a Hand?
I haven’t slept all night and I’m not going to Bear with me as I feel this town Feels like a stuck pig A rat actually You are domesticated matter of some kind on a garnished platter and I can’t relate. Get laid immediately or get sedated or cut these open But it only ever feels good for a moment. Some don’t understand how much filth and rain there is They are not convinced They don’t think It is past six It is not early, it is late and don’t you forget that. This is important I can’t stress that enough and there isn’t enough space there is structure. I took a walk and saw two birds fighting This kid I know, he is a fight He doesn’t wake for simple pleasure Those accepted conventions and cute sitcoms are placebos Don’t you forget that. Poor little city mops wear a lot of greasy t-shirts and almost nod off by the stalling clock and miss their mothers and only want the feathers to expand as they flutter I can’t sleep because of all the colors Swimming in this thickness of values Trying to dodge lapses of thought I keep my red-hot confidence locked in a jar and set my stomach on fire and seethe while the authorities spit warped judgment I don’t want to speak with them I want to talk to you on the telephone. and as I blink my pink eyes, I become a god and evaporate Consume this and fuck mediocrity. and what is that medicine smell? Get it away from me I’m going to go take a piss and be disgusted.
“Woman and Birds” by Joanne Baker, Pencil and Charcoal
Valediction .1226. by Zach Fletcher
We’re sad now but the world is a bit brighter On spinning spokes we sat counting our coins And now we mourn with thoughtful minds Clouded breaths chase away the salt from our eyes Sifting through open bottles we’ve set aside “I’m here with you now,” he said quietly “And here I’ll always be” On a day we all remember, not too long ago We sat our luggage down and walked toward the tracks He was there guiding the way He only smiled as the train approached and stopped Pointing out to the horizon He said, “Out there is where I’ll be. I’ve given you this moment so you can remember me.” With the wind he was carried away But we can still hear his voice all around A thought of remembrance, a tear of remorse And we’re on our way In hopes that in some way we’ve changed Remembering the sun can still warm our hearts through his embrace
Sicko Review
by Coleman Howes
Worthwhile or just more Moore? After a long period of anger and skepticism towards Michael Moore, I have resigned some of this in light of his new film, Sicko. I recently watched this movie on recommendation from Chaz, and I have to say that I was thoroughly impressed. Sicko, Moore’s latest film, is a two-hour-long indictment of the United States health care system that focuses on its massive downfalls and the damaging effects these have on the American people. Moore traces the system’s fatal flaws back to the Nixon and Reagan administrations, during which it fell to the mercy of large corporations following the HMO Act and the phobia of socialism that came about during the Cold War. Moore stresses the point that the United States is the only “civilized” Western country that does not have guaranteed universal health care. In his usual fashion, Moore strings together a series of interviews with individuals and families who have been devastated by the ruthlessness of privatized health care; people who have been impoverished by the system, damaged by it, or have lost loved ones to it. He depicts American medical facilities in an expectedly dim light, along with the practices of health care providers. Moreover, a Michael Moore movie wouldn’t be a Michael Moore movie without some good old-fashioned intrigue, and Moore delivers with interviews of health care insiders as well as exposés of government conspiracies to stonewall socialized medicine. To contrast to the sob stories of disenfranchised Americans, Moore provides heartwarming interviews with people enjoying the fruits of universal socialized health care in Canada, Britain and France—both natives and expatriate Americans. He tours hospitals in these countries and asks naïve “American” questions that show the glory of free medical service. The movie culminates with Moore taking several unsung 9/11 heroes (volunteers that had been neglected by the government) to Cuba to get treatment for their ailments. It turns out that the medical system in Cuba, a country notorious for being everything but barbaric, is quite nice, and all of Moore’s “friends” come home feeling much better. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that Sicko is a decent watch. When I set my bias against Michael Moore aside, the only problem I found (and some would consider it a big one) is that Moore fails to address the logistics of universal health care in the United States; in other words, how would it work? After all, if you’re promoting something, you have to be able to back it up practically. And of course, there’s the aggressive, sardonic approach that we all know and love Michael Moore for, and some people may automatically be turned off by this. Ultimately, Sicko is a solid practice in agenda setting. It harkens back to Moore’s 1989 film, Roger & Me, in that it focuses on an issue that pertains to more than five fucking people (this is obviously an exaggeration, but Fahrenheit and Columbine did have a comparatively small scope of relevance to the average American). Fur-
Sharing Taste Here is a section where the authors thermore, nobody gives a shit about how bad the war in Iraq and the Bush Administration suck anymore (this isn’t totally true) and everyone is tired of hearing about these things. They have been played out, and their relevance has far exceeded what it should be, especially in comparison to issues like the one at hand in Sicko. The fact of the matter is that our shitty foreign policy is not the be-all end-all of U.S. politics—our shitty domestic policies should be taken into consideration too. Moore has done a good job showing this, but does he know he’s up against a problem that he contributed greatly to? After all, it can’t be denied that Moore and the stink that surrounded Fahrenheit and Stupid White Men are at least somewhat responsible for the public agenda shifting completely to “BUSH SUX SO DOES THE WAR STOP THE WAR FUK BUSH.” Moore has a lot of ground to cover if he wants people to listen to him after the amount of selffucking he has done. Bottom line: Sicko is a good movie with an important message, but will people listen to this message if it comes from Michael Moore? Who knows? You probably don’t give a shit about politics. You probably still hate Michael Moore. I still think he’s a big fucking windbag. I’m probably a windbag too. B+.
of the magazine share what they are listening to, watching, and reading. Mason Balistreri: Reading? Grapefruit by Yoko Ono Listening? The Rolling Stones, Smashing Pumpkins, and the new TMP demo. Coleman Howes: Watching? Sicko Reading? The Cyberiad by Stanisław Lem Listening? Television - Marquee Moon Jack Arnold: Reading? Brighton Rock - Greene. Listening? The Clash - Sandinista! Chaz Ludwig: Watching? Curb Your Enthusiasm Listening? N.W.A - Straight Outta Compton
The Revivalist
by Quintin Kilpatrick
Chapter One Robert Vandryk woke up to the sound of his alarm. “Shit,” he thought. Another night at Angel’s and a few too many drinks. He’d outdone himself this time. He checked to see if the bandage he haphazardly applied in the night had held. It did. He was a tall, white man with often untidy red hair. His skin was creepily pale, more so than usual he thought to his discomfort. It lost its slightly darker tint by November, which went well with his general attitude in the winter months; as if the life was sapped right out of him. Robert removed the bloodstained bandage and poured some Hydrogen peroxide over his wounded arm. It bit a hell of a lot more now that his senses weren’t so dulled by the alcohol. In the drunken haze of the walk home he stumbled into a brawl between a ragged, dirty old hustler and one of the many prostitutes that littered the thin streets around the Bar District.
“Dats myy money you stupid hoe,” he spit out as they fought over a bright red purse. It was almost comical, Robert thought. He, a short man with thinning gray hair and those rabid dog eyes struggling with her, a young girl, not much more than 18 and at least a foot taller. The makeup around her cheeks and eyes accentuated her clenched teeth in the struggle for the night’s earnings. Seeing the two sway back and forth, almost in harmony. Now that was funny. No, not that funny. After several seconds of struggling she jabbed her right high heel into the old man’s stomach, knocking him over into a pile of garbage bags, her purse intact. He got up frenziedly. His glossy eyes darted back and forth as if to see if anyone had witnessed the exposure of his wounded self. After regaining his balance the old hustler glared at the young woman’s body, taking the full breadth of her figure then reached for
a short knife in his coat pocket and lunged at her. Robert tried to grab his arm but more clumsily plowed in to him, knocking them both on to the street. Before he could get up the old man rolled over and stabbed his left arm. Luckily that old hustler was slowed, first through his jacket and then shirt; the blade pierced not even an inch. Robert gasped. He was able to hit him square in the face with his right fist, knocking him down and away. He got up clenching his left arm, only to watch the girl douse him in a can of mace. He was done. Exposed. Sprawled out on the pavement before Robert was a low life scum, latched onto his selfish ways and miserable habits. He is destined to die forgotten. Just another lowly corpse in this dying town. “Won’t we be all,” Robert thought. Before that whole ordeal He’d spent the night alone
at Angel’s Bar and Lounge, sipping on pints at the back table and taking in the somber yet frantic sounds of the house jazz quartet. Their band leader was one of those people of indefinite age. A tall, thin black man with thick-rimmed glasses. There was something almost youthful, but stoic about him in the way he performed, swaying with each cosmic rhythm, filling his soul with his own creations. During sets he would alternate between playing a tenor saxophone and reading from a worn notebook. He spoke with a fiery ambition. Like the Cornell West of jazz. Ha! What silly thing to think, he thought. Cornell West probably listens to gospel. His performances had started to become something of an inspiration to the often-despondent Vandryk. Most people only knew him as the Revivalist. The Revivalist will be continued through chapters for the next several issues. The story is very much like a graphic novel - if you have drawing skills, and would be interested in doing sketches, email us,
“Tree of Death” by William Panksy, Digital, Photo Manipulation
“Dissaproval” by William Panksy, Digital, Photo Manipulation
Stencil Tutorial
by Mason Balistreri
Quick 1 Color Stencil Using Photoshop Stencils are fun and require less skill than standard graffiti. If you follow along with this tutorial, I will teach you how to make a great looking one color stencil using photoshop. Step 1 You need to decide what your going to spray. I suggest starting with portraits because they are the most satisfying with a minimal amount of work. In this specific tutorial, I am using a picture of Marilyn Monroe. Step 2 Open that picture in photoshop then convert it to grayscale. To do this go to Image –> Mode –> Greyscale Step 3 In this step you need to separate out what you don’t want. You may have stuff on the side that can be cropped out (press the ” c ” key to bring up the crop tool, drag to select what you want to keep) but for this picture, the only thing we need to do is affect the threshold. Do this by going Image –> Adjustments –> Threshold .
When the menu comes up, slide it until you find a setting with a good balance of black and white. All areas of black must connect to other areas of black. Make sure you don’t have important features in black floating in white areas. If you do, then just jack up the threshold. However, most images, including the one I am working with, need only the default setting. Step 4 Make is easier to cut out, Filter –> Noise –> Median . Use “1” as the setting. Step 5 Press CTRL + I to invert the picture. Now it is ready to print! Just cut out the black areas.
The Chalk Effect by Mason Balistreri
Amazing what so little can do... Sometimes existing isn’t as fun as people make it out to be. I realized this at about 4 in the morning on a Wednesday. I had just broken up with a girl, college wasn’t the best, and I hadn’t seen my friends in awhile, so logically, I was sitting in my room listening to cat power and bright eyes. Pathetic right? Sure, but it beats demolishing myself with alcoholic. One of the cat power songs struck me pretty hard. I think it was called “Say”. The line I liked goes, “When no one is around, love will always love you.” I know, it seems a little bit corny now, but at the time it was profound. I had to share the message. On my way to the brick wall, I passed a couple on a bench. They seemed to be arguing; the girl was crying. Around the corner, I wrote the message on the brick wall – each letter was about a foot high. I liked it and looked at it for awhile. On the way back, I approached the same bench the couple was on. It seems that the argument had escalated. “FINE, I’m just going to go get drunk then!”, the guy said as he walked away. The girl sort of just stood there. I don’t think she knew what to do. I felt awkward with chalk in my hands so I just passed her and sat down on a bench facing the wall. What happened next really cheered me up. She walked up to the wall and stared at it... for 15 minutes. When no one is around, love will always love you. I don’t know what it did for her, but I know that it affected me.
“Back In The Day” by Ryan MacRitchie Photograph
“The Route” by Vladimir Moldavsky Digital Painting
Summer Daze
by Jack Arnold
There’s the chair. SIT! It’s kind of uncomfortable. There’s no back so you have to lean over like a taco. Lots and lots of people, walking somewhere. Where do they all go? Oh and it’s hot too. Lots of smelly, hot, humid, gross people. Stop sign red. Standing tall like an extension of the flat outward facing palm from some far away station enforcing the “Sit down, shut up, no questions, thank you, please”. There’s a lot of grass. It’s in everybody’s yard. Everybody’s own Easter basketful clipped and without weeds. You like that tree? It’s pretty big and way too old. There’s no way your dad planted it. It must have been some old Davy Crockett. You wonder what his name was. Cars drive by your deck. They must not see the red stop sign. Johnny Law is too far off on other business anyway. There are cars sitting on the street too. They must not feel like running stop signs now. You can really feel that heat now. It’s so sublime. You pretend you’re a water drop floating in the air right now, making some person hot. You laugh a little. The sun sits high looking down with his burning laser vision. The sun is a superhero to these plants. These plants that grow and twist and wave. It’s a lazy day. But the people never stop. Always walking to something, always. You can hear a man washing his
car. Everybody has a car except for you. You can hear him singing twangy country songs. It was something about a deluxe pick up truck and fast, leggy women. You wouldn’t exist if he didn’t exist. Molecules that make up both your bodies were spit out a long time ago by Superhero Sunshine. Suddenly you realize you were never really alone. The plants, the wood that makes the house a house, the sweaty people, these birds chirping over your head; they are all connected. You look over at the house across the street. It’s tall and yellow grey. It sits like a canary in a cage of evergreen trees. They’re having a porch sale selling bird poop. You almost want to get up and see what kind of things they have but scene around you is far too grand from your chair. You sit in awe. More people walking. These people are sucking on sticks that disintegrate to mist into the wet, hot air. The tips glow red and the people seem to relax a little. More people and they all seem to be going uptown. It’s like a parade. There are dogs now walking. They know it’s hot too with their tongues falling out trying to touch the burning cement. Oh, a breeze! You’re almost raised from the daze of these humid, hot summer days. Still you sit taking it all in almost forgetting where you are. You are here. On this street here. Sitting on a porch, in this chair, at
this corner. The man is done with his car. Now he’s opening its mouth and he’s looking at it’s organs. He sweats, dripping on the engine block. Looking for something he lost, maybe? Gently, he is walking back and forth turning a switch on the inside of the car trying to wake it up. A plane buzzes overhead, a giant metal mosquito sucking up oil from the ground; now off to lay its eggs in some big city airport. A real bug lands on your arm and you watch it in anticipation. It’s so light you almost don’t feel it, it has a natural anesthetic, but it’s there like a pin being slowly pushed into your skin. You don’t do anything but watch. She thinks she’s going to get away. SMACK! She lays shattered on your skin. FLICK! Never again.
cool and tart. Two girls walk by. The man watches like a hawk. One looks and sparks you in the eye before she passes. You wonder if you’ll ever see her again. A cloud passes over. No more sun. Humidity’s still here. You start to feel sticky like you showered in soda. Now there’s a new girl in a new car. Old girl you knew, but still new. Asks if you want to take a ride. You think about it. You’ve sat here long enough. There must be a puddle. You agree and get in. Where will we go? Who cares. You say goodbye to the man and take another look at your street. Drive away into the sun.
A big yellow bus rolls down your street. He stops because he has to; who knows, what if he wasn’t working? More people going downtown. They didn’t want to walk. You hear the man with his car swearing loudly sending carets, asterisks, dollar signs, exclamation points, and pounds into the atmosphere. The car makes a sound like a robot throwing up. More swearing and more nonsense characters. Then finally……click. SUCCESS! He almost clicks his heels.
Florescent
The sky is ablaze, orange and red. But there are dark clouds off in the distance and you hope for rain. The man sits now drinking lemonade,
Haiku Some Poetry... by Brandon Peed
These florescent lights Drain my soul of energy I long for freedom.
Narcissistic by Mason Balistreri
Free Me From This, Narcissistic Dilemma, I’m Getting Bored.
Greatest Fears by Brandon Peed
My two greatest fears Being forgotten by all And forgetting all
“Reach” by Matt Boroff and Mason Balistreri Digital
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For the thoughtful to think And thoughtless to reconnect Art - poetry - philosophy - culture zine