The Moon Zine #36 (Dec 2018)

Issue

#36

/

Dec

2018

Dear Readers and Moon Luvers, As stated in our first issue, September 2015, here were our goals for making the Moon Zine: 55 To make and share cool shit with our friends and strangers

55 To have a creative outlet and voice in our community 55 And to have fun.

We did it!

You did it!

Thanks to everyone who submitted their artwork, was part of the Moon Zine ( Josh!), came to a collage party, hosted a collage party, donated their time, energy and or resources, bought a t-shirt, wore a t-shirt, played our shows, hosted a show, danced or wallflowered at our shows, printed your own copy at home, passed around an issue, or even just read our dang zine! Thank you all so much! We couldn’t have done it without you.

The Moon Zine will still live on issuu.com, in St. Louis Public Library’s zine collection, and through Print Your Own Zine (see our backpage).

Like our previous issues, the numbered pages are original submitted content. Other pages are altered by yours truly and unique to each edition of the issue. Thank you for taking a chance and picking up our zine. Hold on to it, or pass it on to any zinester you know, as The Moon Zine is one of a kind.

Goodnight Moon, The Moon

meet the staff

Julie Davis - So, here we are in the car

Leaving traces of us down the boulevard

Getting lost in the dark is my favorite part

I wanna fall through the stars

Lauren Kellett - Learned what “swan song� meant.

Wes Harbison - Got to write about zines in my library school grad program -- thanks moon zine!

Allison Sissom - gonna keep zine-ing! Keep your eyes peeled for em! staff picks: moon zine

Julie - our first double issue: Self//Other Lauren - Death Wes - Josh Allison - All the people we met, and strangers who became our friends.

Look at the Ocean, the Shore A Play in No-Acts

By Jeffy Denight Lights up.

The Oregon coast, mid-October.

Mid-morning. Blue skies. Toothy clouds.

Cold water.

Upstage, a WOMAN in a heavy jacket, buffeted by the wind.

She watches the sea, patient, calm.

A BEACHER walks past, searching.

WOMAN

Hi. (BEACHER nods.) Looking for shells?

BEACHER pulls a handful of shells from his pockets.

BEACHER

Any of these look special?

WOMAN

No mussels or clams. That’s a good start!

BEACHER

I’m looking for sand dollars. No luck yet.

WOMAN

Too rocky. Their skeletons-- that’s actually what you’re looking for-- they break apart.

You need a soft sand beach.

BEACHER

Thanks. You from around here?

WOMAN

Portland. We’re out here all the time, though. Just about every month.

BEACHER

We?

WOMAN

My daughter.

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WOMAN points.

Downstage, a GIRL in street clothes, soaked.

She’s in the ocean, jumping into the breakers.

Joyful, joyful, joyful.

For a while, we’re in the water with her.

BEACHER

How long has she been in there?

WOMAN

She went in just after dawn.

BEACHER

It’s freezing!

WOMAN

Oh, I know! Not for me, no way. She doesn’t mind, Summer, winter.

BEACHER

You let her?

WOMAN

You know, before we moved, we’d never seen the ocean. Neither of us. Came out here on a whim one day. And, wouldn’t you know it, the moment I parked-- middle of March-- pouring rain, mind you-- she rushed into the waves.

BEACHER

Aren’t you worried?

WOMAN

I’m her mother aren’t I? Give her what’s good.

BEACHER

Hello, have you heard of hypothermia? She could drown!

WOMAN

Might not be the worst thing.

BEACHER

Um… yes, it would. And for what? For what?

WOMAN

You’re out here collecting shells. The ocean could sweep you just as easy.

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BEACHER

Not just as--

WOMAN

Easier! With your back to it, sneaker wave could come out of nowhere and-- (Slurping sound.)

BEACHER

Okay-- that. That wouldn’t happen.

WOMAN

You’re not paying attention. And for what? A sand dollar. Small prize for such a big risk.

BEACHER

You’re nuts.

WOMAN

Momentary satisfaction! Then it sits, broken, in a jar or a drawer, disintegrating.

BEACHER

You’re nuts! You and your daughter, both.

BEACHER exits.

WOMAN

(Calling after him.) She! She’s found it.

Within the danger, within the risks, she’s found something for which you’ll spend your whole life searching. And unless you go a little bit further, unless you walk into the waves once in awhile…

He’s gone. The WOMAN watches her daughter.

The GIRL still jumping into the breakers, smiling.

The GIRL dives off the stage, below the waves.

A shift. The beach disappears.

The auditorium becomes the seafloor.

Tide-pool creatures rise up from the

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audience.

SEAWEED and KELP. MUSSELS. CLAMS. SNAILS. URCHINS and ANEMONES. A CRAB. An OCTOPUS! A SEAGULL dives in, grabs a SCULPIN, and flies off.

The GIRL dances as she swims. The creatures join her.

They dance to the rhythm of the tide.

Suddenly! A riptide.

All sea creatures are violently pulled away.

The GIRL is rattled. Kicks up sand, struggles for air.

Stirred from the seafloor, a living SAND DOLLAR appears.

It stabilizes her. They dance, intimate, innocent.

Then, a sneaker wave! They’re thrown about, crash together.

The SAND DOLLAR dies. The GIRL is tossed to shore.

She stands, stumbles, struggles with her land legs.

Her mother helps balance. Wraps her in a towel, warm, dry.

One last look at the ocean, the shore.

The GIRL spots something and picks it up.

It’s the sand dollar’s skeleton.

The GIRL puts it in her pocket. Then, they head home.

Blackout. End of play.

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Wrestling Fans (Wrestling at the Chase 1980)

by Bob Boston ************

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Gene Kininski left vs Frank Star right (Wrestling at the Chase 1980)

by Bob Boston ************

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left for you by nancy mungcal A tiny galaxy Star salts Heart shaped clouds Bones that creaked in the bending Madness like air Bougainvillea colors Tiny petals Grey cement White butterflies saying hello Dark of night

never found by nancy mungcal You had never been to Mars The nausea felt normal There wasn’t a cloud in the sky Rain still threatened

Found feathers left for you

Red lights stopped you from going

How nothing actually feels

The man stood in the middle of the intersection pacing back and forth The noise in his head louder than traffic The car honks and drivers’ voices muted

Ache like an arrow Little shards of glass reflected light to see you in Me missing you An end A beginning

You needed belonging like fresh air Gloom, the news peddled was everywhere There was light beyond the blurry edges

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Sometimes, the missing was never found despite the signs posted

goodbyes by nancy mungcal The goodbyes were stuck in your throat So many said they came and went You stumbled for meaning in those words They were handcuffed to the ache There were beginnings to Endings And changes like the seasons reminded Some goodbyes were see you later Some were forever

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Lauren Bacall used to love me

by SEIGAR **********

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10

Colonial Knot

by Rachel Linn ************

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Satin Stitch

by Rachel Linn ************

Straight Stitch

by Rachel Linn ************

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A Reminder

by Zara Petkovic *************

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Straight Stitch

by Rachel Linn ************

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South Taylor

by Sarah Marchant We were cigarette conversations by the back screen door and footsteps just outside the streetlights. We were tripping over train tracks, sipping from fast food cups, and laughing at the entire world. We were Goodwill dress shirts and pretending to be adults.

We were skipping breakfast and frozen pizza for dinner. We were optimistic fools.

Auxiliary cord playlists and Altoids.

Two bucks for the bus and retail bumming.

Vodka shots and the whole room humming.

Graffiti poses and sleepwalking home.

Through the roaches and bathroom mold and insomnia nights blinded by string lights, I wouldn’t trade those times for anything.

Keep them in a snow globe, shake it when reality gets to be too much.

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18

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Showy Lady’s-slippers Glorify the Early Summer with their Orchid Blossoms

by Allison K. Sissom ****************

Cool Cat (Queen)

by Carmen Ribaudo ***************

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Unheard Comics: British Bears by jackieboy **********

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Nightly Friend in the Backyard!

by R. Zwiercan What’s that? Pointed up to the sky in awe and uttered in that charming yet only recognizable pronunciation by a parent of an eighteen month old toddler.

“That, my pepper, is the moon!” ‘Woah, BIG MOON… WAY UP HIGH!’ Pepper proclaimed, as his voice echoed through the neighbor, extending past my bounding arms that carried him into the backyard on our evening ritual.

Out in the mid-spring air of the desert in suburbia—with fake lawns tailored to fool even the skeptical botanist in all of us, and the sky a cool darken blue so clear that even the dank of souls could understand that something more exists way out there—Pepper’s adorning voice proclaimed again and again ‘BIG MOON, BIG MOON’! ‘BIG MOON… WAY UP HIGH’!

As each passing phase of reflected light from the lunar surface showered our nightly ritual, the ever-building connections and re-discovery of our world and our place within the universe, is seen through the eyes of our offspring.

Never minding the varying shapes of the moon through the passing phases, if was big and glowing in the sky, it was ‘BIG MOON… WAY UP HIGH’!

Morning, evening, night --this fascination didn’t fade with this glowing object that accompanied our planet. ‘BIG

MOON, daddy! BIG MOON’!

The big moon even became noticeable in the board and picture books at bedtime readings. ‘BIG MOON, ‘BIG MOON! Or, MOON daddy, MOON’!

The moon even masqueraded as the sun as this discovery cultivated. My distinction for Pepper, was the moon glows white and the sun glows yellow. This simple explanation became problematic with the picture book Chica-Chica Boom Boom, where the moon and sun trade places of color representation, but the expression remained the same: ‘BIG MOON, BIG MOON’!

The excitement of discovery has slowly faded as Pepper’s comprehension of the moon greatens. However what remains is that these will be the most endearing moments of development that are passing in tune with the age of the universe.

I cannot stop time nor preserve those moments on replay in the space/time continuum, but they will be a permanent memory as I watch Pepper passing through each phase of his life, constantly echoing developmentally age appropriate his version of ‘BIG MOON, daddy!

BIG MOON ...WAY UP HIGH’!

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A Positive Relationship / by Thomas Park *****************************

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11/11/18

by Katherine M. Blanner Sometimes I wish I'd remember my dreams I wonder if you were in them Or if I dreamed in monochrome Or full vibrant kodachrome But most nights my brain is muddled In its melatonin coma But I really wonder if I thought of you loving me Or if I imagined something passionate Most days when I'm awake We really feel like nothing at all Like your cheeks after getting a filling Nothing, but pudgy and space consuming I really wonder if I dream of you And I wish I could remember Did I dream romance was real Or did I just honor it as chance and chemicals in the brain That bond you to your lover Did I dream that love was dead Or did I imagine loving you

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The Moon Zine presents: A Xena Colby Triple Feature

Rousing

by Xena Colby How do you do it when you’re half asleep?

Rousing Searching through nothing Who wins against the drug?

Starting from nothing Knows it’s not right Rouses Who could do such a thing Starting from nothing

water heart

by Xena Colby water heart direction cancelled, bound spreading out digging into the ground water heart poison in the well

Rinding

by Xena Colby If I had enough time I could change Into something totally new Is that true?

Something permanent’s underfoot Blood pool, shriveled liquid tunnel, Tiny grains, and empty bubbles I’m stubbornly recognizable Barely assaulted by my limp intentions Some inclination, perverse inheritance Is happening to me over time Like a rind rinding

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what do you want to be? in shape, in sound a form that only i can see digging into the ground

Goodbye Moon

by Maria Karambatsakis ******************

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There’s also music!

1. FMRL TMPL - exploitation 2. Sam Harbison - Splash

themoonzine.bandcamp.com

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The Moon Zine is a free compilation zine started in 2015 and made in St. Louis, Missouri, USA. Issues are published in digital, print-your-own, and limited physical editions. We try our best to be eco-friendly, but dang it’s hard sometimes. This is our last issue.

 Contact us 

Want to Submit

themoonzine@gmail.com

y o u r work?

That's nice of you! Uhh, bad news, though: this is our final issue. We're not taking submission anymore! Bye!

• • • • • •  • • • • •

 internet themoonzine.tumblr.com issuu.com/themoonzine @themoonzine (instagram, twitter, & facebook)

Credits & Notes

eternal Thanks to:

cover images:

Xena Colby, Carson Monetti, St. Louis Art Supply,

LOLA, Image #: EL-2002-00357,

Louis Small Press Expo organizers (Christopher Alex

front & back: Apollo - Project Date: December 5, 1961,

via https://flic.kr/p/93puMw

Josh Saboorizadeh, Joe Kloun, Bob Boston, The St.

Chablé, Nick Kuntz, David Peery, Jared Rourke, Jen Tappenden, Kristie Wickwire, and Nicky Rainey),

back cover quote:

Caity Bieberdorf, Maddie Smith, Jacque Davis, Don

authors/wendelin-van-draanen/

Public Library

https://www.scholastic.com/teachers/

Davis, Amelia Jones, Liz Wolfson, & the St. Louis

looking for Back issues? -----------------> Print your own at: https://goo.gl/jXflxZ

made in saint louis, missouri, usa

“Don't even try to talk to me when I'm watching the moon. That's my moon, baby.�

- Wendelin Van Draanen

fREE