The Original Magazine | Issue 15, Lawrenceville by The Original Magazine

Issue 15

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On the Cover. I have always been a lover of good views. When I moved to Pittsburgh in 2012 to attend school, I knew very little about the city except for the childhood memory of a ride up the incline that stuck to my mind like glue. This sight of Pittsburgh from Mount Washington is a timeless reminder of this city’s beauty. However, I’ve recently learned to keep an eye out for the hidden gems. More often than not, the best sights in Pittsburgh are spontaneous; they align in fleeting glances between billboards and buildings, and

fall away quickly if you don’t pay attention. After two years of living here, I’ve fallen in love with how the lights of faraway houses on hillsides make Pittsburgh look like a reflection of the night sky, a vast expanse of twinkling electricity. In a city that I always thought would be hard to get lost in, there are so many unexpected moments. Pittsburgh always has the warm day amongst the windy ones and the tucked away view waiting to be discovered.

- Cristina McCormack

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editor’s note. Clichés may be the ultimate sin in the writerly world, drilled into our writerly brains at an early age. However trite it may be, “the only constant is change” couldn’t be more applicable for The Original. “The Original” has evolved. Leveled up. Grown into something magical. I found The O during the activities fair of my freshmen year, enthralled by the beauty and creativity oozing off every page—matte or glossy. I’ve seen the come and go of staff members—Original mentors, if you will. Somehow, I’ve managed to be the only constant in The O over the past three years, for the other original Originalers have gone and graduated or stopped contributing. They’ve dispersed all over—from Seattle, to New York, to India—certainly being original in any destination. As a result, I am carrying the legacy, a breach between generations old and new. With my predecessor’s knowledge as foundational buildingblocks, we’ve created the next generation, a new breed of creative colleagues to help The Original continue to evolve. I’m proud to say this is the seventh issue where my work is alondside fantastic writers, photographers, illustrators, and designers. From

a simple poetry submission to editor, The Original has seen my evolution as a writer, a student, an inspirer, and a leader. I am also proud to say I’ve been privileged enough to work alongside amazingly talented creative individuals. While I may have learned the tricks and techniques of writing in my nonfiction and creative writing classes, it is The Original that provides me with an outlet for my creativity, for my voice. It is The Original I will remember when I am a crazy old lady, laughing about the silliness of my staff rather than recalling the difference between a dangling participle and a gerund. It is with The Original that I have learned the necessity of change, whether that be in members or in sentence structure. With that, we offer Issue 15 to you, dear reader. In your hands is our little baby, a product of months of hard work, a few tears, and nothing short of creative collaboration. We hope that with every page-turn, you can find a sense of your own evolution. Perhaps a new restaurant in Lawrenceville to try, expanding your tastebuds. Or maybe a poem will strike a different emotional chord with you, leaving you with catharsis. Regardless of manifestation, you readers are why we are growing, the impetus for our change. So thanks for always being our constant.

All the best, Karley Snyder Editor-in-Chief

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D G

B F

The executive board B C D E F G H I J

editor-in-chief karley snyder photography/managing editor sarah baumann graphic design editor ami ballo business/web manager brandon marx managing/web editor michael knarr illustration Editor erika fleegle creative writing editor christine schauer associate editor jarrett krause marketing intern lucia vento

advertise with us

For information about advertising in future issues of The Original or on our website, or at our next event, please contact us at theoriginal@gmail.com. We are also working to make advertising space available to University of Pittsburgh student organizations either free of charge or at discounted rates. Contact theoriginalmag@gmail.com for details.

don’t copy us, please

All rights reserved. Reproduction without permission is prohibited. All material Copyright © 2014 the authors & The Original Magazine. printed by Knepper press. the original is made possible by generous contributions from Pitt Arts and the university of pittsburgh’s Student Government Board.

about us

The Original is a nonprofit, semiannual publication dedicated to highlighting the work of young writers, artists, and leaders in the Pittsburgh region. Founded at the University of Pittsburgh in 2006, The Original is managed by a students who aim to bring accessible art and creative writing to the public, while also promoting the city itself.

Please direct all letters of adoration or hate mail to theoriginalmag@gmail.com. We appreciate both. Maybe we’ll even put your comments on our website or write you back. We also accept unsolicited submissions of art, photography, creative writing, nonfiction, and other additions you think we’ll like. We like jokes and suggestions too, so if you have any good ones, please share.

join us

The Original is always welcoming new members to our happy little family. Our meetings are open to all University of Pittsburgh students as well as others residing in the Pittsburgh area. Shoot us an email, and we’ll hook you up.

photographers

writers Sarah Baumann MAUREEN CRAMMOND ERika Fleegle Maddy Fisher Julie Hemphill Tallon Kennedy Michael Knarr Jarrett Krause Rikki li Brandon Marx Theo McCauley Abigail Meinen Melanie Moyer Mistura Olaoye MArissa Lynn Perino Kaylen Sanders Jared Salzano Christine Schauer Becca Tasker Joelle SMith Karley Snyder Emilie Sullivan 4 Kenneth Ward Alexis wolfe

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copy editors Ami Ballo sarah baumann Bridget duffy erika fleegle lauren galloway michael knarr jarrett krause brandon marx erin powell kaylen sanders Christine Schauer Karley Snyder Lucia Vento

illustrators

graphic designers Associate Photographers Dheeraj Jalluri Jake Trettel Risha Appadurai Ami Ballo Sarah Baumann Arielle Berk MAureen crammond Ryan Doran Grace Eggleston Julie Hemphill Phil Kappes Christine Lim Tessa Samuelson Karley Snyder Becca tasker Abby Wang Joe Wilks

ami ballo Timothy Glorioso Michael Knarr Rikki li Christine Schauer Abigail Sutherland Hannah Weintraub Cassidy Zimmerman

sophia bridgers jenny liu AMBER TORRISE ASHLEY WERTZ AgAtHA monasterios

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UNIVERSITY OF PITTSBURGH

connecting students to Pittsburgh’s vibrant arts scene The arts get us thinking deeply, make us laugh , cause us to question the world as it is, help us build a diverse community,

celebrate international awareness, beautify our world, and nurture our spirits.

Each year, PITT ARTS coordinates 110 free arts excursions that include free tickets; transportation; and encounters with stars of the arts world, including great opera singers, extraordinary instrumental soloists, curators, and arts leaders and thinkers of every stripe.

In celebration of PITT ARTS’ 19th Anniversary Year, experience: 4 Ballets; 4 Nights of independent ﬁlm; 5 Operas; 3 Hands-on artmaking workshops; 8 Contemporary dance performances; 20 On-campus performances; 17 Plays; 21 Classical music concerts; Blues, folk, jazz, and ﬂamenco concerts; and more .

PITT ARTS • 907 William Pitt Union • 412-624-4498 • www.pittarts.pitt.edu 5

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Table of contents

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New and Noteworthy 8 on campus 10 11 DON’'T FORGET TO WIPE 15 ILLUSTRATOR SPOTLIGHT 16 MERT ERTUNGA 18 5 MINUTES WITH People we like

SCOTT BENSON ROMEO HARP HANGING WITH HAYES OAKLAND'S RAT PACK

20 21 25 28 31

around town

HELPING OUT AND GIVING BACK PRESS PAUSE PITTSBURGH MURALS

35 38 40

in focus

SAY BUNNY THE SPROCKET GUILD FORKS OR CHOPSTICKS

46 52 55

Community Guide

THE QUEEN OF CRAFTS AN UNLIKELY CHARM OUR HOME, THE CIDER HOUSE

78 80 88

Creative Writing

& YOU TIRED STAR CHANGE CRIMSON CAVE ART AFTER OZ MAD GIRLS ARS POETICA PHANTOM LIMBS SELF AND OTHER POEMS

92 93 94 96 97 98 100 101 102

goodbye note

105

17 THINGS TO DO IN LAWRENCEVILLE 58 62 TASTE OF INDIA 63 WHO KNEW ? 65 A NEIGHBORHOOD ON THE RISE 68 TWO GIRLS, ALL THE PIZZA 72 THIS OLD HOUSE 76 THE ROW HOUSE CINEMA 7

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New and Noteworthy theoriginalmagazine.com

e love originality, if you haven’t figured that out by now. With our change and expansion of staff, we’ve also re-vamped our website. Note: Wordpress is a bunch of poopheads. We aren’t too technologically savvy just yet, so we went with Wix, an easy make-yourown website source. So, instead of creeping on your crush’s Facebook page for the fifteenth time, check out our site. Browse the multitude of student writing, from movie reviews and TV critiques to angry rants about the questionable decisions of Friday night failures, we promise to entertain and/or enlighten you. If you have something to say, we are always taking website submissions. -Karley Snyder

conflict kitchen

onflict Kitchen is a restaurant that features cuisines from countries that the United States is currently in conflict with, though it is well beyond just a restaurant. Conflict Kitchen hosts events, performances, and discussions throughout the year, such as film viewings, conversations with members of the community and lunchtime talks. The current country of Conflict Kitchen is Palestine, with previous countries being, Afghanistan, North Korea, Cuba, Iran, and Venezuela.

Conflict Kitchen shares the food, culture, and politics of the country showcased. Conflict Kitchen has spoken with Palestinians both living in Palestine and Pittsburgh to come up with their current menu. The menu consists of dishes such as Hummus, Baba Ghanoush, Salata Gazawiya, Fattoush, along with the street food of Falafel and Shawarma, some home-style dishes of Musakhan, Maftoul, and Rumaniyya, rounded out with the sweets of Namoura and Baqlaw, and beverages such as Limonana and Tamar Hindi. The current listing of foods highlight the Palestinian palate and help to paint a tiny portrait of the Palestinian world through food. When you get a plate of food from the kitchen, you also will have the opportunity to pick up a brochure that is filled with stories from different Palestinians. By bringing the food of countries in conflict to Oakland, Conflict Kitchen hopes to use the social relations of food to bring the public into conversation about countries, cultures, and people that they may know little about otherwise. Conflict Kitchen wants to bring about some knowledge about different ethnicities outside of what the government and media says. They do this through the telling of different personal stories. By sharing food, Conflict Kitchen shares stories that help to lessen the stigma, or at least bring about conversation. -Sarah Baumann

CONFLICT KITCHEN IS LOCATED IN SCHENELY PLAZA, SERVING FOOD 11AM – 6PM, SEVEN DAYS A WEEK. 8

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creative confections gaby et jules is in the business of edible works of art. AUTHOR: CHRISTINE SCHAUER PHOTOGRAPHER: CHRISTINE LIM DESIGNER: CHRISTINE SCHAUER

OPEN 8AM-8PM MONDAY THROUGH SATURDAY AND 8AM-5PM ON SUNDAYS, GABY ET JULES PATISSERIES ET MACARONS IS LOCATED AT 5837 FORBES AVENUE. VISIT THEM ONLINE AT GABYETJULES.COM.

red storefront, windows displaying bright towers of macarons upon glass shelves, welcomes Squirrel Hill to a modern bakery. Cleanly-edged countertops and high ceilings create lines that draw the eye to the display case featuring work-ofart pastries. From the rich, dark, chocolate browns to the bright, lemon yellows, from the concentrated, deep fruity reds to the smooth, modest hazelnut cream, each pastry lining the marble counter is as pretty as the next. Gaby et Jules is one of the few establishments in Pittsburgh that offers authentic French cuisine. Open since the end of August 2013, the patisserie grew out of the public’s appreciation for Master Pastry Chef David Piquard’s confections—namely, pastries and macarons. Chef Piquard originally served his creations at Gaby et Jules’ successful sister bistro, Paris 66, Lori and Fred Rongiers’ first entrepreneurial venture. The positive reception led to a new partnership: the Piquard-Rongier team, which was influenced by legacies of separate but similar familial attraction to patisseries. Chef Piquard’s grandfather, Jules, never had the opportunity to make his aspiration of opening a pastry shop a reality, but he introduced the dream to his grandson. Fred’s grandfather, Gabriel, likewise had an unfulfilled dream. Gaby et Jules was born. Chef Piquard trained at Ladurée on ChampsÉlysées in Paris, one of the best known makers of macarons in the world. He has over twenty years of experience crafting pastries and macarons—not macaroon. French macarons are a meringue-based specialty made from almond flour, confectioner’s sugar and egg whites—no coconut—that require time and attention to craft. It takes Chef Piquard and his team three days to craft one flavor of macaron. Due to the behavior of their ingredients, macarons must be made at specific temperatures and monitored to ensure the proper consistency— light but not too soft, solid but not too dense. Gaby et Jules always has more than fifteen flavors in its display case for sale, from the chef’s White Chocolate Basil, the bestselling Sea Salt Caramel, or the traditional Almond. Beyond that, there are a multitude of pastries to be had: Le Royal Chocolat, a rich dark chocolate pastry; the Lemon Tartelette, topped with delicate puffs of meringue; the ParisPittsburgh, the chef’s homage to the city that has become his home—just to name a few. With the help of his hand-picked kitchen staff, Chef Piquard is able to produce works of art that taste just as good they look.

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on campus

Donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t forget to wipe.......................................................11 Illustrator Spotlight...................................................15 Mert ertunga............................................................................16 Five Minutes with...............................................................18 10

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Don’t Forget to Wipe

AUTHOR: KARLEY SNYDER PHOTOGRAPHERS: KARLEY SNYDER, BRANDON MARX DESIGNER: AMI BALLO

ver my four years at Pitt, I’ve gotten to know the campus and many of its buildings quite extensively. That being said, I’ve subsequently become familiar with Pitt’s restroom facilities. And, with every semester switch, the change of bathroom graffiti brings both humor and concern to my school day routine. I’ve compiled only a few selections of the scrawl-swarms across the bathroom walls. Many bathrooms have a collage-like collection of “inspirational” quotes, “motivational” comments, song lyrics, pop-culture memes, doodles, and scribbles. The possibilities seem endless for what a college student will deem significant enough to etch upon bathroom walls. With these, I’m providing you, dear reader, with my personal commentary on these snapshots into college students’ thoughts while taking the instinctive, necessary, human part of their day.

Reported from: 3rd floor Men’s bathroom, Cathedral of Learning Well, here you have it, straight from the classic philosopher and mathematician himself. Do you think he got this piece of wisdom from his teacher Socrates? If so, this artist is passing down this profoundly powerful quote to any and all occupants of the same stall. After all, knowledge is meant to be shared, right? I hope this quote wasn’t a mix-up of a philosophy gen-ed and someone’s Friday night…

Reported from: 2nd floor Men’s bathroom, Cathedral of Learning Everyone appreciates a good joke, though I think this author might’ve found his own anecdote more humorous than the “joke” he is offering to the next stall user. Perhaps this is the author’s own insecurities leaking out onto the bathroom wall. Regardless of intention, male genitalia is one major theme in the bathroom graffiti realm.

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Reported from: 2nd floor Men’s bathroom, Cathedral of Learning Hmm. It seems as if this author is having quite the time in his bathroom stall…

Reported from: 2nd floor Men’s bathroom, Cathedral of Learning

If Lil B says it, you know it’s inspiring and profound. If a rapper of his imminence is happy that I am alive, I think all is right in the world, which is exactly what Lil B is saying with “you are all good.” Though, is he referring to the clothing “bra,” or is this a misspelling of “brah,” meaning “bro,” short for “brother”? Either way, Lil B is blessing us, and coming from The BasedGod, I guess that’s a big deal or something.

Reported from: 2nd floor Men’s bathroom, Cathedral of Learning While I may take the few minutes in the restroom to check my social media and text messages, I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a feeling of “safety” in one of Pitt’s bathrooms. Fortunately for this individual, the particular stall finds a special place in his heart—a safe haven from the stress of school. Does he find other stalls as safe? What is it about that particular stall? The world may never know.

Here you have it, folks. Another piece of wisdom brought to you from the men’s room. Though, I think this author is getting his birds confused. Isn’t it the stork that brings a baby? He’s certainly right about one method of prevention. See also: condom, birth control, and abstinence as other methods to bring no baby, or bird, to a stall near you.

Reported from: 2nd floor Men’s bathroom, Cathedral of Learning Reported from: 2nd floor Women’s bathroom, Cathedral of Learning The women’s room has quite a tone shift in its’ bathroom graffiti. This author is using the bathroom wall as a place to inspire others, advocating change through this clever comment. While I agree with the sentiment, I’m not so sure if this bathroom stall is the appropriate place to try to establish change.

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This is one of the many quotes found in a bathroom stall consisting of primarily Doctor Who related remarks. Though, perhaps this author just had some weird cravings. Fish sticks dipped in custard? Fish sticks for dinner, then custard for dessert? Whatever flies your Tardis, I guess.

Reported from: 2nd floor Women’s bathroom, Cathedral of Learning

Reported from: 2nd floor Women’s bathroom, Cathedral of Learning The Cathedral women’s bathrooms tend to have more positivity and inspiration in terms of quote selection, and this comment from Woody Allen is one of the many quotes adorning stall walls. Maybe females feel the need to uplift others more than males? At least in terms of using the bathroom. Regardless, my boy Woody has a point.

Reported from: 2nd floor Women’s bathroom, Cathedral of Learning

Did you know that you can teleport to the Ministry of Magic just by flushing yourself down the toilet? You aren’t a true Harry Potter fan if you don’t try!

Reported from: 2nd floor Women’s bathroom, Cathedral of Learning

Sorry, but in college your worth is determined by your grade. If you did poorly on an exam, you will probably fail college and never get a job. Kidding, of course! Often in women’s bathrooms a user will find dialogue in the scribbles back and forth. Thus, bathroom graffiti can become a sense of community, especially in dealing with the challenges and stress of academia.

While I love Bukowski, I’m a little confused about how to categorize this one. Is this supposed to inspire me or make me laugh? Is the bathroom open and wet? Maybe this stall needs a good sanitizing…

Reported from: 2nd floor Women’s bathroom, Cathedral of Learning 13

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Reported from: 2nd floor Women’s bathroom, Cathedral of Learning Here we have another example of bathroom graffiti jokes, with a shout out to the Pirates snuck in this one. While I am quite a fan of stupidly funny jokes, I’m not sure if a bathroom stall is the best place to find party invitations. But maybe I’m just not using the right stall.

Reported from: 2nd floor Women’s bathroom, Cathedral of Learning

When I found this stall’s addition, I discovered a profound sense of empathy—someone else out there enjoys Anchorman enough to reference it via bathroom stall. Bonus points for this author.

If you are feeling blue and un-godly, check out this stall and you will instantly be reminded of your goddess nature and that everyone should treat you as if you are divine. Delusions of grandeur or a compliment?

Hm. I’m not sure what “grafitti” (notice the first “I” also resembles an “E”) is, though I appreciate the variety of ways to say “and.” This author is disapprovingly aware of the Doctor Who motifs seen in bathroom stalls. Does this comment make the author a dirty poet and stunted anarchist then?

Reported from: 2nd floor Women’s bathroom, Cathedral of Learning

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We are all victim of indecision, some more than others, though this author might’ve wanted to think a bit before taking his pen to the wall. Maybe he should’ve scribbled a trite quote or a penis joke. I appreciate the attempt, but better luck next time.

This is only a snapshot into the inner-workings of bathroom personalities. Next time you post up on the toilet, take a second to scan your surroundings. Maybe you’ll identify with someone’s deepest confession. Perhaps you’ll chuckle at a joke offered from one of your peers. Or, maybe you’ll be stricken with inspiration yourself, feeling it necessary to grab your sharpie out of your backpack and scrawl something sentimental of your own.

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Illustrator spotlight ROW HOUSE CINEMA- ASHLEY WERTZ

WILDCARD - JENNY LIU

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From Turkey to Pittsburgh: author: maddy fisher photographer: risha appadurai designer: abby sutherland

ert Ertunga is someone worth getting to know. A graduate student teaching French at Pitt, Mert brings great energy to the classroom and makes an effort to get to know each one of his students. He learned to speak French before he spoke English, has lived in five major cities around the world, and was an accomplished professional tennis player for many years. Mert grew up in Istanbul, Turkey, where he practiced tennis for fun. His skill improved and he became the Junior #1 in Turkey. He left in the early 1980s to attend a boarding school in Switzerland, where he remained for three years. It was there that Mert began learning French, prompting him to spend a year in France. During this time, Mert continued to play tennis, cultivating a passion for the sport. In the American equivalent of his junior year of high school, Mert decided to come to the United States. He wanted to continue to improve his tennis game as well as explore the States, so he decided to attend the Nick Bolletteri Tennis Academy in Florida. It is clear that Mert enjoyed the warm climate, for he chose to attend the University of Alabama in Birmingham for his college years. His passion for tennis grew further while at UAB, and Mert became a professional tennis player. He played on the Satellite/Challenger circuit for two years before returning to UAB to earn his MBA in business administration. Things were going well for Mert, but around the early 2000s, he began to feel unfulfilled. He realized that he had mainly studied

business to please his parents, but he was not actually doing what he loved. As he said of his career during our interview, “I would never be in a suit and tie.” He found that a coaching position for the women’s tennis team was available at UAB. Mert was a great addition to the UAB Blazers, helping them win their first-ever conference championship in 1992, with a 14-5 overall record. In the ensuing fifteen years as coach, Mert led the team to even more victories. In addition to this job, Mert gave private tennis lessons at a local club. Reconnecting with his passion for tennis inspired Mert to pursue higher education in a field he really loved: language. He applied to many language programs and was accepted to the University of Pittsburgh. However, it was his second choice, and initially Mert did not think he would enjoy living in Pittsburgh. His opinion changed quickly when he got to know the other people in the program. “There’s a real family here,” says Mert, who found that the friendly and colloquial people at Pitt were able to guide him in the right direction. He found that he loved the university and the Cathedral in particular, declaring it to be “the best academic building.” As he spent more time in the city,he came to love its many aspects. In fact, of the five major cities he has lived in, Pittsburgh is his favorite. This is compared to Istanbul, Geneva, Paris, and Birmingham! For Mert, some of the many perks of the city are its great transportation and the fact that traffic isn’t terrible. The size is perfect for him: it is not huge,

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“I love Pittsburgh, because it has the comfort of smaller cities mixed with stimulating bustle of big city.”

and you can walk everywhere. Mert notes that he loves living downtown and hearing the noise and bustle of the city, and that Pittsburgh has one of the most visually stunning skylines of any place he has lived. The culture of Pittsburgh stands out to Mert, with the city giving importance to the arts and our passionate sports fans. When I asked Mert if he had become a fan of Pittsburgh sports teams, he had a great anecdote to share. American football is a concept that is foreign to Turkey and does not exist there. In the early 1980s, Mert saw a Steelers game. He knew nothing about the sport but was intrigued by one player in particular: Tunch Ilkin. Mert wondered how someone from Turkey wound up playing football in Pennsylvania, and decided that he liked the Steelers for this reason alone. Who would have thought that he’d end up in the city of the Terrible Towel twenty years later? Of course, Mert remains a fan to this day. Mert will defend his thesis on French literary identity in the mid-eighteenth century this December. Aside from his studies and teaching, Mert is still very involved in the tennis world, though not on the court. He writes for several tennis magazines and has his own blog, with media accreditation. Mert hopes that he will be able to remain in Pittsburgh, if possible, working in the language field. “I love Pittsburgh,” says Mert, “because it has the comfort of smaller cities mixed with stimulating bustle of big city.” He is one of the best professors I have had at Pitt, and I for one hope he will be sticking around.

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Five Minutes With three-hundred seconds spent with students just like you

allie mccarthy

Agatha

Monasterios-Ramirez

rachel

mauer

twenty-one, urban studies

nineteen, Art / Writing / Gender Studies

twenty-two, communication & Film

What are the best pair of shoes you’ve ever owned? In between two, the one pair is actually cool, well at the time at least. It was in seventh grade, the Nike Air Force 2, I was just being a baller bro. They were also, black and gold—Steelers shoes. The other pair was Merrell Clogs, no laces, grey and really squishy. They were a size too big, but I got them anyway.

If you could have one horse sized duck or onehundred duck sized horses, which one would you choose? The thing is, one horse sized duck would shit so much, but one-hundred duck sized horses would also shit so much. But, probably one-hundred duck sized horses because it would just be absurd, like those videos of a herd of corgis running toward you, but with tiny horses.

Candlestick in the study, gun in the hallway, or knife in the kitchen. And who’s to blame? Colonel Mustard with the candlestick in the study. It’s always Colonel Mustard. Always.

Would you make out with a clone of yourself? No, because I like feminine women, and I’m not one. Is the youth of America today cooler or lamer than the kids of the ‘60s? Who would win in a rumble? Definitely the ‘60s, I was just thinking about this yesterday. There’s that John Mayer song Waiting on the World to Change, I think that’s stupid, because we shouldn’t be waiting for the world to change. In the ‘60s they’re all like “protest,” “free love, man.” In my Queer theory class we watched this video on the AIDS Act Up and I just feel like that would not happen now. Though, we did have the big march in New York City for the environment. But I still feel like the ‘60s kids were cooler. We would win the rumble, because of nutrition, and we are bigger than they were. PB&J or Fluffernutter? PB&J, but I like it as PB&J toast, instead of a sandwich. It warms the insides.

If you could age backwards or be old forever, which would you choose? Oh God, I’d probably pull a Benjamin Button. Which famous American novelist would you most like to be? Agatha Christie, do you know who I am? Who is your favorite of the Golden Girls? I I’m ashamed. I’ve never watched Golden Girls. What do you think will cause the apocalypse? Probably super volcanoes, or a solar flare. We are at the whim of the universe.

If you could be a dinosaur, what kind would you be? When we were little, my sister and I would play Littlefoot [from The Land Before Time]. I was always Littlefoot. I was a brave leader. Brontosauruses are pretty strong, kind. What’s the best thing you’ve ever been for Halloween? I was a sexy Charlie Chaplin last year. So I was basically just Charlie Chaplin. You wake up in jail. What crime did you commit? Hopefully I was the mastermind behind a really good plan. Like an Ocean’s Eleven that failed or something. If you could be on the cover of any magazine, which would you choose? Cat Fancy. Would you make out with a clone of yourself? Yeah, absolutely. I’m a cutie. But I don’t think I could do it twice. The second time would just be awkward. If you could be reincarnated as anything – absolutely anything – what would you be? It’s always a tie with this question. I would either choose to be a manta ray, but not so I could kill Steve Irwin though. That, or a giraffe.

If you could be a dinosaur, what kind would you be? Allosaurus.

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graham

hobbes

emily

cramer

ryan

doran

twenty, nursing

twenty-one, German

twenty, chinese / linguistics

If you could have one horse-sized duck or onehundred duck sized horses, which one would you choose? One-hundred duck sized horses, absolutely. Because they’d be small duck sized horses, and I’d have a lot of them, as opposed to just having one.

If you woke up in jail, what crime would you have committed? Oh boy. Okay, I don’t really break the rules a lot so this would be very very difficult. I would say it’d be causing a scene or being too loud and disrupting something. I usually have a very hard time being quiet, so maybe disrupting something.

If you could have one horse sized duck or one-hundred duck sized horses, which one would you choose? One-hundred duck sized horses, an army at my command. It would be quintessential to life. Could you image riding around in a chariot pulled by duck sized horses?

You wake up in jail. What crime did you commit? Probably aggravated assault. What’s the best thing you’ve ever been for Halloween? I was Buzz Lightyear this year. That was pretty good. Would you make out with a clone of yourself? That’s not an easy question. I have no idea actually. On one hand, I’m not attracted to guys, but on the other hand, it would definitely be an interesting experience. What do you think will cause the apocalypse? Probably either a pandemic or we’re all just going to kill each other. If you could age backwards or be old forever, which would you choose? I’d definitely be old forever, so that once I went through life and all of that happened, I could at least stick around to try to keep everyone from making the same mistakes that I’d made. Aging backwards would just be awkward, especially if I was starting all that at the age of 20.

What would you be reincarnated as? I think that I would be reincarnated as some type of animal. Maybe a squirrel. I know that’s kind of a weird answer, but I move very quickly and I think that I’m sometimes similar to a squirrel. So I’d be a squirrel. Is the youth of America today cooler or lamer than the kids of the 60s? Who would win in a rumble? I think that the kids today are much lamer than the kids of the 60s, and I know that I’m a part of this generation, but I think sometimes we try too hard to be cool and that makes us lame in itself. But I think that we would win because we have the tools and technology that they didn’t have in the 60s. Would you make out with a clone of yourself? Definitely, because you need to know if you’re a good kisser or not, and then I would critique myself. Oh, for sure, I definitely would.

DESIGNER: MICHAEL KNARR

If you could age backwards or be old forever, which would you choose? I’d be old forever. Old people have fun, too. I’d probably grow a ponytail and a beard and be that crazy history teacher everybody has. Which famous American novelist would you most like to be? I think I’d be Sylvia Plath. Wait, is she a novelist? She wrote poetry. I take that back. Henry David Thoreau. I feel like I say that a lot, but I mean it. He had cool hair, cool ideas. I could live in the woods, I guess. Who is your favorite of the Golden Girls? Oh my God, is this a real question? How could I have one favorite Golden Girl? We should all aspire to have one characteristic from each of the Golden Girls. The innocence of Rose, the sexual charisma of Blanche, the matriarchal wisdom of Dorothy, and the sass of Dorothy’s mother whose name I can’t remember right now. That’s how I live my life. What do you think will cause the apocalypse? Cats, they’re up to something. There’s a reason they write all those books about cats wanting to kill us. I mean, yeah, the books are funny, but they’re funny ‘cause they’re true.

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People we Like

Scott Benson...............................................................................................21 Romeo Harp.....................................................................................................25 hanging with hayes.............................................................................28 oaklandâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s rat pack................................................................................31 20

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Scott Benson ''“At the End of Everything, Hold on to Anything”"""''

t first happened upon Pittsburgh artist Scott Benson when one of my favorite musicians, Toh Kay, released the dark animated music video for his folk tune “With Any Sort of Certainty”, a song about fear of ‘the end’ and whatever that entails. Scott’s video told the story of a bespectacled newspaper photographer slowly becoming haunted by thoughts of death, his time at war, and the afterlife. The art style was simple, yet very well layered and complex. Atmospheric and dark as well as charmingly accessible. The characters and environments are polygonal but are textured and lit in a way that

makes them glow, looking like the dark underbelly of a children’s animated TV show. And yes, that’s a very, very good thing. Scott Benson’s current project is a new independent video game called Night in the Woods. The game is made in conjunction with indie game developer and Canadian native Alec Holowka, known for games such as IGF award-winning Aquaria, Towerfall, and Offspring Fling. As a guy who’s incredibly excited to jump into the game on day one, I sat down with Scott to ask him some questions about the process behind creating “Night in the Woods”.

JARRETT: The music video for “With Any Sort of Certainty” is what introduced me to your work and it remains one of my favorite music videos to this day. When Toh Kay approached you to partner up, were music videos really on your radar in terms of showcasing your animation? SCOTT: Thanks! I’d actually done a couple music videos before- “The Murph” in 2011 and “Please My Favorite Don’t Be Sad” in 2010. The Murph was actually the first mild success I ever had as far as a video going very wide. I love doing music videos as they’re basically just short films set to rhythm. I’m so down with that. JARRETT: Was animating for a video game only a matter of when for

you? Was this your first opportunity? SCOTT: Video games are something I love and think about all the time. Love playing them, but also love reading critical writing about them, dissecting them, etc. I like games as projects and as culture. I’d wanted to make a video game since I was a kid but had no idea of how to do that, so the dream just kinda died. It wasn’t until I got into smaller and indie games a few years back that I thought, “Hey, I think I could have something to offer here.” I mentioned it on Twitter and had a couple false starts with some really cool people, until Alec got a hold of me last year and things kinda fell into place.

AUTHOR: JARRETT KRAUSE ILLUSTRATOR: ASHLEY WERTZ DESIGNER: AMI BALLO

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JARRETT: One of the coolest things about NiTW is that it was funded completely on Kickstarter. Not only that, but you reached your goal in just over a day, 26 hours! Not only do funding sites mean niche passion projects like this can even have a chance to exist, but it also gives you the time and resources to build the product you had always envisioned. Being a backer for the project myself, I receive monthly updates with how NiTW is coming along, which is such an interesting peek behind the curtain. Are you used to this kind relationship with your audience? SCOTT: Yes and no. I’ve never had this many people to whom I’m accountable to in some way, and I’ve certainly never had this much scrutiny on a work in progress. It can be really nerve-wracking and there are plenty of examples of that getting to people. On the other hand I was in bands for years and I was always one to book shows and make t-shirts and hang out at the merch table talking to people. So this isn’t that different than that. I like a good keeping-it-real relationship with an audience. We’re just a few people making something and I try to make sure we come off like that instead of fronting like we’re some big deal. Nope. Just a handful of folks that got lucky.

JARRETT: You’ve received tons of support from friends, fans, and just video game enthusiasts. Is this the biggest reaction you’ve had to your work? SCOTT: Yes, easily. Alec’s already had large success in the past with Aquaria, but I’m certainly less well-known. This is hands down the most attention my work has ever received, and it’s both gratifying and a bit terrifying JARRETT: Also, you went to E3 2014, one of the biggest gaming conventions and expositions in the world. You had your logo on the big screen during Sony’s press conference and everything, man! Tons of people had a chance to get their hands on a demo-cut of the game, ask questions, and give you their thoughts. As a guy who’s extremely jealous, give me the dish, how awesome was that experience? SCOTT: E3 is insane. Just flat out nuts. Combo of a ridiculous corporate pep-rally, Times Square, an amusement park, and a very large Best Buy showroom. Words can’t quite describe the dizzying silliness of it. It’s surreal to the extent that, at least for me, the weirdness of it overshadowed a lot of the cool factor. I mean it’s a trade show. It’s mostly employees of various places, executives, developers, writers, and fans who scammed their way in there. The internet I think makes it more of a “video game orgy” than it actually is. Lots of people doing appointments and interviews and such. We were there to work and a good chunk of everyone we talked to was also there to work. But then again there were tons of college-aged folks running around grabbing swag and wearing whatever novelty hat Capcom or whatever were handing out that day, and waiting in lines for hours to play a 10 minute demo. So for them maybe it was the full on videogame-iest thing ever! It’s all a blur in my memory. That said, it was also pretty amazing. Our 6-month old weird little game on the floor with all these big huge AAA and indie games! We met so many great people and there was a pretty good response to the game. We won a Polygon Editor’s Choice Award and got a lot of cool write-ups. I met some games writers I have strong admiration for, a lot of folks I know from Twitter, and some game devs whose work I’ve loved. So yeah, like I said- surreal. JARRETT: You’re on good terms with some pretty rad musicians, Streetlight Manifesto and World-Inferno Friendship Society specifically. I know Alec is working on the soundtrack, but are you bringing in any outside talents to work on the game’s sound, too? SCOTT: No, Alec’s got this one in the bag. He’s pretty damn good and it was locked from the beginning that this was an Alec Holowka joint as far as music.

JARRETT: Does the ability for fans to see the process affect your vision for the product? SCOTT: Again, yes and no. The fact that people are watching it doesn’t change the vision itself, it just makes me feel both very supported, and a lot more pressured to make sure we don’t screw it up! But I think people’s response to the game itself shades how we see the game. As happens with every game, the game you end up making is a bit different than the game you originally set out to make. I think seeing what people found resonant with the project helped nudge us on the way we see it, and therefore that nudges our efforts.

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JARRETT: From what I’ve seen so far, the game’s town, Possum Springs, seems very Squirrel Hill-esque, at least to me. With one of the focuses being the creation of an atmospheric environment, are there any specific neighborhoods or areas that inspired the town? Anything from Pittsburgh or some other part of your origin? SCOTT: Possum Springs is very, very western PA. In our heads it’s probably somewhere in PA. Not sure where, though. The town is based on Appalachian rust belt and mining towns in general, but there are a few direct PA town influences: Southside Slopes in Pittsburgh, the downtown and cathedral hill areas of Altoona, downtown Lewistown, and the main strip of Vandergrift. Also there’s more than a little of the mill towns south of Pittsburgh. I grew up mostly in North Jersey and while that is a big influence on some of the peripheral areas, the main Possum Springs areas are all PA, all the time. JARRETT: Some of the things I enjoy most about the game are the characters and their distinct voices. Mae, the game’s main character, is a college-dropout with a lack of direction, some anger issues, and newfound paranormal abilities. She speaks to me, superhuman powers aside, and seems to be pretty well received by lots of fans. What, in your opinion, makes her character and “everything sucks forever” mentality so accessible? SCOTT: Mae is based on some people I’ve known and some people I’ve been. I think her situation is just something a lot of people go through many times in their lives. Her kind of bad attitude is also just a factor of her age and also the fact that she’s not the most far-sighted person. She’s at an age [20] where there can be a lot of uncertainty in where you are and who you are, and that can seem like forever when you’re there. And to be honest, that’s a feeling people have all the time at all ages so I think the kind of self-indulgent sigh of “Everything Sucks Forever” makes us all nod our heads, either in recognition or chuckling remembrance of when we were in that place. Also I think a lot of game characters don’t have the most relatable attitudes. If they’re kinda downers, they’re super gritty, and if not, they’re super determined. Mae’s just there. She’s blah right now. We find her in a

place she’ll probably look back on with mixed feelings. JARRETT: And you also feature a young gay couple, which I was delighted to see. What drew you into creating these characters? What are you thinking of most when representing their small-town lifestyles? SCOTT: As far as Gregg and Angus, there are some plot-specific things that I won’t go into here, but also they just kinda came out on the page fully-formed that way. Sometimes that happens when you’re writing. Gregg and Angus weren’t conceived separately from one another. They just belong together in this story. You’ll see, hopefully. JARRETT: One of the coolest things I’ve noticed about the game is the incredible amount of fan-art that’s been made pre-release. What do you think is inspiring people most about the project? SCOTT: Oh, wow. I’m not sure. People just clicked with it. I think having really simple but distinct character designs plus just enough about their personalities in blurb form gave people a great jumping off point. I think a lot of people see themselves now or in the past in the characters. I think a lot of people are from places like Possum Springs. Also I think people just like to draw animal people, so that’s cool. Honestly, most of the fan art is far better than anything I could draw. It’s very exciting but extremely humbling.

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AUTHOR: KARLEY SNYDER PHOTOGRAPHER: AMI BALLO DESIGNER: AMI BALLO

Romeo Harp I sat down with this Pittsburgh-based R&B artist before he left for Atlanta, Georgia, where he relocated in order to continue his musical journey.

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“Opportunities are endless, but in order for the opportunities to start, you have to start working together rather than working apart.”

rom catchy pop tunes to elaborate orchestral compositions, the capabilities of music seem endless. Music has the potential to unite, connect, express, enliven, and inspire anyone willing to listen. And Romeo Harp has a lot to say. Internationally known singer, songwriter, actor, dancer, and performer, Romeo Harp certainly has achieved a level of stardom unfamiliar to most twenty-seven year olds. He’s professionally trained at Dance Alloy Theater, Point Park University, and the Northwest School of the Arts, to name a few. Romeo is also the owner and creative mind behind Twisted Runway, a full-service fashion, arts, and music event planning company. Regardless of creative outlet, Romeo always knew he was meant to entertain. As a child, Romeo was always singing, always dancing, always curious. His introduction to music came from the loud, gospel music in his folk Christian community, where he first experienced that soul-touching sensation of vocals paired with the acoustic guitar. Music has always been in Romeo’s family, whether in the form of performance or appreciation. Romeo’s grandfather Cornelius Harp was a lead singer in a ‘50s doo-wop group called The Marcels. He explains their impact on his musical career—“They would just be on street corners singing and snapping their fingers. I took inspiration from that and also what I’ve listened to—like Jason Mraz and Maxwell or T.I. or Common or Drake, and all of a sudden it’s Sara Bareilles. Just all of these different people. In that, I’ve been able to meet a lot of fascinating people.” For Romeo, there was always some type of Rhythm & Blues in his life. He appreciates the beauty in simplistic music, regardless of genre.

Romeo describes his musical style as indie-R&B, though he is anything but limited to musical genres. “Music should be openended. It should be interpretative. Which is why I say that I am indie R&B and also alternative as well, because I am sticking to what I know and what I gravitate towards naturally, but my writing style is for everybody else—a way to not be selfish but be selfish as well,” he says. People often think of R&B as sex music, though Romeo is approaching the genre in a different way. His music is not gender-specific, but rather open-ended, honest, and vulnerable. He doesn’t listen to music that is overly sexualized because for him, there is so much more to talk about in R&B. Since sex is what sells in this day and age, Romeo had to find other tactics to express his musical visions. In the past year, Romeo sang with a rock/soul band called Astro Kinetic. The other band members were heavier into the rock scene than Romeo, who prefers hip-hop and indie music. Regardless of style differences, Romeo enjoyed the fusion because it allowed for the exploration into a new genre, and he was able to add playing with a live band to his resume. While the dynamic of performing with a five-person band rather than a solo acoustic set varies greatly, he does enjoy both realms—“If I’m playing an acoustic set, I like those because it’s a little more intimate. I get to connect more with the audience rather than performing in front of a beat. It’s all about experience. When you have five people you are working with, everyone is looking at you as a cohesive unit, not as one person.” A solo performer, Romeo must be constantly conscious of his public persona. As more and more people started to recognize him,

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RELEASED ON JUNE 19, 2014, ROMEO"S DEBUT ALBUM THEATRIX IS AVAILABLE ON ITUNES, AMAZON, GOOGLE PLAY, SHAZAAM, BEATS MUSIC, AND MORE. THE ALBUM FEATURES ARTIST SUCH AS M.I.S.E., RUDEBOY, ZOSIA WEST, PLAY BIZ AND LATE ROCK. R&B BAND ASTRO KINETIC. he lost his previous sense of privacy. “If you had a bad day and no one really knows you, or you aren’t out there in a specific way, or you aren’t trying to get noticed, and you are really pissed off, you can be pissed off for the entire day, and no one will think anything of it—you’re just someone who is pissed off. But if you are someone who is trying to be on the forefront and be seen, you have a reputation to follow rather than going through basic human emotion,” he explains. Though, being in the spotlight has never been a problem for Romeo. “You can Shazam me,” he giggles. With his volunteer work for safe sex organizations, work experience with the University of Pittsburgh, event planning for fashion events, and theater involvement with Pittsburgh Creative and Performing Arts School and the Kelly-Strayhorn Theater, Romeo has created quite the presence in Pittsburgh. He’s performed at numerous bars and nightclubs across the city, such as The Rex, Howler’s, and Smiling Moose, to name a few. However, at this point in his career, Romeo feels as if Pittsburgh is no longer offering him ways to advance his career as a musician. “Pittsburgh has this weird thing where they don’t want to compensate the artist for what they are worth. With playing all these different venues here and then not really making what we’re worth, spending time rehearsing and equipment is not cheap, dedicating your life to a form that you want to have some kind of living off of. It’s just not here. Particularly in my genre of music because this is a rock or hip-hop city. I’m completely in the middle. Because of that, I feel Atlanta will be more susceptible to the type of music I am putting out there.” While there may be so much talent and creative energy in Pittsburgh, it proves challenging for artists that aren’t already at a certain level of fame to climb up to that threshold, especially when the musical community seems to work on a self-interested, individualized level. Romeo believes that Pittsburgh musicians need to encourage collaboration and offer support, rather than working in opposition. “Opportunities are endless, but in order for the opportunities to start, you have to start working together rather than working apart,” he comments. Romeo feels like he cannot continue to advance his musical career here in Pittsburgh, and he is tired of running around in circles. As a result, he recently relocated to Atlanta, Georgia, the next step on his journey as a musician. In regards to the move, Romeo explains: “I’m ready for that challenge because no one knows me. I’m going to have to kick myself in the ass. In Pittsburgh you can get really complacent.” It may seem like he is starting his career back at the beginning, but Romeo has just enough of a footing in Atlanta. His stylist Darnell Howard is a celebrity stylist based out of Atlanta, and his manager has an entertainment career there as well. Moving to Atlanta will hopefully result in more opportunity, but regardless, escaping the frigid Pittsburgh winter will certainly be a plus. Location aside, Romeo has big dreams for his musical career. His goal is not to be famous but rather to promote authentic emotions, to be part of his listener’s experiences. And for him, this is accomplished

through staying true to himself and constantly pushing personal limits. He may want to make a living off of being creative, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be original. “I wanted to make music for the people rather than for myself. I love that music affects me in the way that I can feel it in my soul. So I wanted to do penetrative music, where I wanted to piss people off, I wanted to make some people cry, I wanted to make some people laugh, I wanted to make some people unsure. Really challenge the listener, but also at the same time, let them listen to something that is kind of commercial based, but outside the box.” When not writing or performing, Romeo likes to read, spend time with friends, and travel. He is also very spiritual, meditating often and practicing yoga. He loves to meet new people, hearing their experiences. Romeo draws inspiration from life experiences and his love of people. Also, Romeo enjoys the challenge of navigating through new cities—that nervous feeling of not knowing what’s going to happen next. When I ask Romeo about his guilty pleasure music, he offers Linkin Park, and we reminisce about the first band we knew that mixed rock and rap. Really, Romeo’s guilty pleasure is anything to get his inner rock on— “I usually rock out in underwear. I don’t have hair so I don’t have a brush, but I’ll sing into Scrubbing Bubbles.” CHECK OUT ROMEOS MUSIC AT: WWW.ROMEOHARP.COM REVERBNATION.COM/ROMEOHARP YOUTUBE.COM/THEREALROMEOHARP

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hanging with hayes pitt poetry professor Terrance hayes talks openness, obsession, and creative communities.

“A

s an attitude toward living, I think that’s right: general openness.” Overall, Pitt professor Terrance Hayes’ disregard of social categories and his exposure to a variety of experiences allowed him to develop his interests more organically than someone who had a specific direction and narrow sphere of influence from too early on. Perhaps it was this openness that guided his unconventional journey to poetry. Originally from South Carolina and a first-generation college student, he pursued Fine Arts at Coker College. Having received an athletic basketball scholarship, he had the opportunity to explore the subjects that most interested him without being too particular with a major too soon. He strongly believes in the freedom to explore—to “follow your bliss”. He didn’t allow his position on the basketball team to limit his experiences; among his other interests was chorus, which he was a member of throughout high school and into college. He did not formally pursue English Writing as an undergraduate, choosing instead to study Fine Arts— painting, in particular. While taking a general writing course, Terrance’s natural affinity to language was recognized by his professor. This professor not only challenged him to hone his craft, but also played a part in his decision to apply to MFA programs, which subsequently led Terrance to the University of Pittsburgh. It is the compounded experiences in one’s life that most orients their work; there are subjects that recur, unresolved or revisited, within the work of any artist. Sexuality, masculinity, and identity are often seen as the main subjects of Terrance’s work, particularly in his first two or three collections. He identifies these subjects as obsessions. For him, this often means that he’s writing about his biological father, whom he never knew. Concerned that the obsession would dominate his work and hoping to resolve his fixation, Terrance connected with his father. He did not get the resolution he sought, though—“On the one hand it was a rich, new history, and on the other, it this guy I was never going to have a relationship with because he kept vanishing.” The two met only twice, and it has been over a decade since they have been in contact. “All it did was deepen my obsession or give me some other ways to think about it as opposed to making it go away.” Ultimately, there are some obsessions that can’t be resolved, and for Terrance, the complicated relationship with his father continues to penetrate his work. Of his self-identified obsessions—masculinity, sex, and desire—Terrance says, “It’s sort of like entering a room; you keep going through the door to get to your subject, but maybe at some point you’ll come through the window, or drill a hole and come up through the floor, but essentially you’re always in the same room trying to see it in a different way.” Counting himself as lucky to be writing at all and remaining humble to the creative process has helped him keep the paralyzing fear of repetition at bay. He’s of the mind that something is always better than nothing, even something that’s been said previously. Experimenting with form, too, has been a way of finding new entrances into the room—“Changing the shape of it allows me to get to new territory,” he says. New territory hasn’t been limited just to his work; as a foreigner to Pittsburgh, Terrance has what he refers to as an “outsider” perspective to the city. Upon his arrival in Pittsburgh, he discovered a creative community that has continued to thrive and still exists today. “I thought that the way Pittsburgh is, and the way that creativity and poets thrive in Pittsburgh was typical,” Terrance says of a realization that only came after moving between Japan, Columbus, and New Orleans: Pittsburgh is not, in fact, typical. “I thought that was the world.” It’s a challenge for smaller cities to develop a sustained community of its creative individuals, particularly outside of universities.

AUTHOR: CHRISTINE SCHAUER PHOTOGRAPHER: ABBY WANG DESIGNER: CHRISTINE SCHAUER

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The kind of love that I get from Pittsburgh, that is not usual. 29

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So what makes Pittsburgh special? Terrance points to the “creative class”— the group whose predominant social class is associating with other artists—as a major proponent of the community particular to poets in Pittsburgh. There are individuals—not necessarily within the academic sphere of the university— contributing to a network of creatives that produce work and continue to interact over many years. Upon his return to Pittsburgh, Terrance found the same community that he’d left behind. Recently a recipient of a MacArthur Fellows Program grant, Terrance rejects the title given to it by everyone but the MacArthur Foundation itself: the “genius” award. It’s too much pressure in his opinion; besides, it’s more for creativity than it is for genius. The program “awards unrestricted $625,000 fellowships to talented individuals who have shown extraordinary originality and dedication in their creative pursuits and a marked capacity for selfdirection.” Other recipients of MacArthur Fellows Program grants include Alison Bechdel, Junot Diaz, and David Foster Wallace. The Program is not limited to any field, focusing rather on the individuals’ creativity and their potential to contribute beneficial advancements to human society. He’s grateful to the city that he has now lived in longer than anywhere else. “The kind of love that I get from Pittsburgh, that is not usual, I would not expect that in Philadelphia or Washington, DC, or even Chicago. That’s because of the city, not because of the stature of prizes, it’s because people actually care.” In order to prepare for upcoming speaking engagements, Terrance is on teaching leave for the Fall 2014 semester. He is looking forward to returning to the classroom, however. There was an adjustment of size and layout when he returning to Pitt, this time as a professor, after a decade teaching at Carnegie Mellon University. He liked the smaller classes and contact with undergraduate students that he got at CMU. So far, he feels like he doesn’t get to see Pitt undergrads as much. “I know they’re out there,” he says, “But I’d like to create the intimacy [of CMU], if that’s possible.” Terrance doesn’t believe that Pitt is a victim of its scale and size, but that there is an opportunity for improvement that he would like to see pursued. He and Yona Harvey, his wife who is also a Pitt professor, are interested in creating a better community at the university, particularly for undergraduate students. Terrance is of the opinion that it’s the social dynamic of a community that feeds one’s work, and he would like to see more cross-departmental interaction. Having taught exclusively undergraduates at CMU, Terrance has the option at Pitt to work graduate students as well; so far, he has chosen to work with both. He admits an attachment to undergraduate students, which stems, he says, from observing the ways in which graduate students can get bogged down with the weight of what they’re trying to accomplish. “There’s something about the way when you don’t know enough, you’re more creative. Sometimes grad students know too much.” He’s interested in the “backing” into creativity that sometimes occurs for students that don’t even recognize their own creativity. As a professor, Terrance connects emotionally with students that feel lucky to be in college, reflecting on his own undergraduate experience, but he’s intent on challenging the idea that the learning process is unidirectional. He tries to “get them to the place where they feel like ‘Of course I deserve to be here. Of course I can challenge my teacher, or my parents, or my preacher. I have my own opinions, I wanna shape them.’” He has found that there is something to be gained from the dialogue between students—who he encourages to challenge him—and himself. He feels that this process of exchange and discovery is what college is all about. As one of Terrance’s former students, I can attest to the benefits of having a professor so invested in making himself accessible to students, encouraging them to reach out to him and share their work, creating a welcoming atmosphere for everyone. Asking students’ for their opinions rather than telling them how they should think makes for a more beneficial learning environment, particularly when writing where perspective can dictate so much of the process. I have been struggling with the idea of producing ‘good’ work, reaching for profound and intelligent prose when I should be focused on exploring a wider range of language. As Terrance says, “You don’t have to be smart. There’s so many other things you can be as a creative person, not just smart. That’s not the only thing.”

there’s so many other things you can be as a creative person, not just smart.

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AUTHOR: BECCA TASKER PHOTOGRAPHER: BECCA TASKER DESIGNER: AMI BALLO

A look at the Garage Band Goofiness that is NoodleCannon 31

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e very rarely get glimpses of bands as they are beginning to form and much is lost in the absence of baby books. Reporters often masquerade as archaeologists and dig back through old Polaroids to search through faded memories and create a record of what really happened at the birth of a band. NoodleCannon is composed of seven gentlemen all in the Swanson School of Engineering at the University of Pittsburgh. When they aren’t slaving over physics books, the guys enjoy taking your favorite songs and turning them into smooth neo-jazz covers of dreamy excellence. I stumbled upon them at an open mic night during Orientation Week, where the room erupted in cheers during their opening number, a classed-up version of Afroman’s “Colt 45.” If you’re unfamiliar with the song and its lyrical content, I suggest that you look it up sometime. To turn the song’s less-than-charming lines into a jam with a smooth mood-setting melody takes incredible talent, and NoodleCannon crooned their way to success. They only played two songs that night, but that was all they needed to exemplify their range. A folky rendition of “Wagon Wheel” stole the show. By the song’s end, the entire crowd was swaying and singing along. The room had the quaint feel of an old pub,and it was a mood created entirely by NoodleCannon. As a music lover and reporter, I knew I had to know more about these impressive bow-tie wearing cuties. I decided to wait until the end of the show to strike up a conversation. Imagine my despair as I watched them walk out before I got the chance however, as my inner monologue screamed: No! What if I never find them again, this is such a big school, I can’t just let them walk away, and how will I ever hear them play again? I thought they had walked out of my life the same way they

came stumbling in. Not to be one to give up easily, I turned to my only, if a bit unorthodox, source: YikYak, the Twitter-like anonymous social media application. I put out a request for the entirety of NoodleCannon to contact me and I got a reply. Of course, their minds went to the dark, seedy place that all freshmen boys’ minds seem to inevitably travel, and I found myself being offered a personal serenade. I quickly explained that I was more interested in writing about them as opposed to pursuing something more salacious, and the next thing I knew, I was setting up an appointment to have a personal serenade of a different kind— my notebook and pen in hand. The band — composed of Matt Hanna, bassist and business manager; Tim Singh, singer (and maybe tambourine player); Rob Goldshear, pianist, singer, Instagram king; Phil Forrence, lead vocals and guitarist, from right outside of Philly; Nolan Ardolino, a fiddler from right here in Pittsburgh; Jake Muldowney, saxophonist and singer straight out of Jersey; and Sean Dietrich, singer — was formed four hours before open mic night as a, “why the hell not,” sort of deal. None of the guys had met before they moved in to the dorms, but you would never guess that when watching them goof around on stage. The band has such a true sense of brotherhood that allows them to play off of each other effortlessly; you can see the pressures of becoming young professionals melt off their shoulders. They get straight to the music and fill the rooms they play to with an undeniable sense of glee. There aren’t too many young bands that can light up a drab room the way these boys can, both on and off stage. The guys, with all their Rat Pack-esque charm, have been making quite the name for themselves around campus. They have been tagging any dry-erase board in reach with their Twitter

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handle, @NoodleCannon, and the hashtag #GETNOODLED. They are also shamelessly promoting their Facebook page. NoodleCannon reminds you of that classic sitcom scenario wherein your older brother and his friends tried to be a garage band and ended up goofing off the entire time, but these boys sound infinitely better. It’s all of the atmosphere of a garage band with the intensity that only serious students can bring. They even have an original title, “No Time,” which is the catchiest little ditty imaginable. “This world’s going crazy; I need people by my side. / If you ain’t got no love for me, then I ain’t got no time for you.” In an atmosphere of college hookups and cheap love, something so poignant and honest is comforting, and a welcome addition to the list of things that set NoodleCannon apart from other college bands. They are truly originals, taking their name partly from a classmate and partly from the Noodles & Company on Forbes. The story of how they established the ideas of cannons that shoot noodles through the windows of Noodles & Company was a wonderfully elaborate one that sums up how witty and resourceful they are. Hopefully this may even become some sort of a reality, as they are currently thinking about engineering slingshots that can shoot packs of Ramen. NoodleCannon would love to expand their horizons and play house shows or even a small bar—but as their fan base is mainly

underage college students, for now they’re sticking with jamming beside the elevators (the only place in Forbes Hall where you can hear them no matter where you are). This has earned them the moniker of “elevator music,” and could definitely influence an album title in the near future. They are hard at work learning two more original titles, one of which is entirely instrumental. They also will play for Market swipes or dining dollars, arguably making them the perfect Pitt band. As for what the future holds, only vocalist Tim Singh — a self-described failed stripper — has an idea of where he’d like to be down the line. “I want to make cars go vroom, planes go vroom, and helicopters go NEER NEER NEER. All while being financially stable with like two or three kids.” They do know that they’d like to cover anything from “Bloomfield Avenue” to putting their own spin on a “No Diggity/Thrift Shop” mashup. Other dreams include covers of “Superfreak,” and the infallible “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” Ultimately, the boys don’t want to pigeonhole themselves into one genre, and so far, they’ve done a wonderful job of staying eclectic. For now, everything the boys touch turns to gold. They are a wonderful reminder of what it’s like when music is young and full of dreams, and let’s hope they never wake up.

FOR BOOKING INFORMATION, PLEASE CONTACT MATT AT NOODLECANNON@GMAIL. COM, AND BE SURE TO LIKE NOODLECANNON ON FACEBOOK AND FOLLOW THEM ON TWITTER @NOODLECANNON. 33

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Around town

helping out and giving back......................................................35 press pause ......................................................................................................38 Pittsburgh Murals .................................................................................40 34

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Helping Out And Giving Back: How A Pittsburgh-Based App Is Reimagining The Loyalty Program

AUTHOR: ERIKA FLEEGLE DESIGNER: AMI BALLO

s I do most mornings, I start my day with a quick check of social media. Instagram, Facebook, AP Mobile, and WordPress all get their usual once-over. This morning, however, I’m adding in something different: LoyalTree. Upon opening the app and scrolling through the main tab, I am immediately hungry for the free gelato, coffee, and beer cheese appetizers that local restaurants are offering me. And it’s not even 11 am. I met with Andrea Wetherald, one of LoyalTree’s account managers, on the first real “fall” Friday, mid-September. The sky had taken on its signature Pittsburgh overcast style and the shoppers of the Strip had traded in their summer clothes for jeans and sweaters. We decided to meet at Marty’s Market, a hidden gem of the Strip District, tucked away neatly from the main drag of Penn Avenue. It also happens to be one of the businesses that LoyalTree supports. The market itself, its cool and clean silver exterior accented with pops of bright green, was instantly welcoming, with patrons seated at outdoor tables or along the open-air bar. I ordered a cappuccino from Caffe d’Amore, the in-house coffee bar, and took my seat, watching shoppers drift in and out of metal racks and wooden tables that served as grocery aisles. Fresh, local produce, imported goods, and bouquets of flowers were everywhere. I snapped out of my haze as Andrea arrived, and we dove a little deeper into what LoyalTree is really about. LoyalTree began as the brainchild of Brock Bergman, the company’s CEO. “He saw a space in the market for a connection between businesses and their customers and went after it,” Andrea explained. “The loyalty landscape wasn’t as engaging consumers as deeply as

Brock saw that it could be.” On its surface, the LoyalTree app is simple to use: a user signs up through the app, and later joins “programs” associated with all businesses that support it. As soon as the user joins a program, they’ll receive a free promotional item and will gain points for items they purchase from that retailer later on. The points accumulate by scanning a special QR code that all LoyalTree establishments have at the bottom of their receipts. Once a certain amount of points are obtained, users can redeem them for “reward” items like salads, coffee, or even sports jerseys. Each business decides what they want to offer in terms of rewards, whether they’re just for joining or personalized for a user on their birthday. The real magic happens after the sale. The software LoyalTree created is fully integrated with each business’ point-of-sale (POS) system – there’s no need for the business owner to spend extra money on allnew hardware. A backend dashboard displays the retailer’s sales data and LoyalTree program data, enabling them to better customize their retail offerings and cater to the wants and needs of their customers. For example, if a customer tends to buy a particular item of clothing, the retailer will pick up on it, and make sure that specific customer receives an alert when that item goes on sale. Business owners can also use the backend dashboard to determine which hours or days are the slowest for business, and can in turn use LoyalTree to drive business further. LoyalTree doesn’t just extend to places like Marty’s Market – other local establishments like Coffee Tree Roasters, Winghart’s, Mercurio’s, Penn Brewery, and Walnut Grill are offering attractive discounts to new and returning customers. And for the sports fans in

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(photo courtesy of Loyal Tree)

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the area, LoyalTree offers a sports extension. This extension offers PensPoints. A collaboration with the Pittsburgh Penguins, PensPoints functions much in the same way as LoyalTree’s initial software does: PensPoints users earn points for attending games, finding scavenger hunt codes around Consol, buying concessions and merchandise, or entering special codes from the Pens’ radio and TV broadcasts. Fans accumulate points to earn Pens merchandise and other prizes. Each franchise covered by LoyalTree Sports – they recently signed the Buffalo Sabres - can customize their program based on their business objectives. Another in-app feature offered is CardLink, a faster way for users to earn points. By entering credit card information into your CardLink profile (only the final four digits, expiration date, and name are needed – it’s fraud-proof!), users can earn points as soon as they swipe to pay. Each business that offers Card Link will have a credit card icon in the corner of their program page. While LoyalTree maintains its local roots with dedication to local businesses and the communities they’re located in, the company is extending its reach across the globe. A multitude of businesses across

the country already use LoyalTree, and the company has contracts with others in Canada, Mexico and Australia. While the global presence is a major end goal, Andrea makes the point that part of LoyalTree’s mission is to help local businesses – “We want to give every merchant access to the same tools and intelligence that the world’s largest retailers have. We believe businesses of all sizes are not only the lifeblood of the local economy, they are also what makes a city unique and interesting. By giving business owners the tools to deepen their understanding and relationship with their customers, we are ultimately helping to build healthy communities. We are continually striving to build a consumer experience that becomes more personalized and intelligent.” Later that weekend, I scroll through my cell phone again, in need of some coffee to power through an evening full of events. Coffee Tree Roasters looms in front of me, and I take note of the LoyalTree sticker in the window. Luckily for me, and for local business owners, LoyalTree is there to bring us closer together.

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t’s not terribly early, but it feels that way. Suggestions of sunlight line the bottom of the sky like old wallpaper, casting an opaque gray light on the flat rooftops and long roads. Your face feels stiff and unused from a night’s worth of weariness. Cold almost, even though the air is nothing but cotton-warm. You push the door open, stepping into the diner. There’s a faint humming sound that pulls softly at your attention, but your neck is as stiff as your face. The room is bright and spacious, flooded with clean, warm light that seems out of place compared to the predawn grayness you just walked in from. You blink several times, swaying on the spot. From behind a long metal counter, a waitress nods at you, which you assume means, “sit wherever you’d like.” You shuffle to a long booth, sliding onto the green vinyl seat. It’s solid and pleasantly cool against your thighs. From here, you can see the diner’s profile in full, see the modicum of other morning patrons, ruminating on their banana foster French toasts and fried tomatoes. It’s quiet, but in the same way a forest is quiet— alive and full of unobtrusive kinetic motion. Another waitress walks over to you, holding a stack of menus and a steaming metal pitcher. “Coffee?” she asks, not unkindly, but with an indifference that you actually appreciate. You nod, croak something that sounds like “yes please”, and watch as the liquid finds home in the mug that has somehow materialized near your fingertips. The first sip is dark and bitter and unremarkable as anything, but it scorches away the dreams still gummed up in your sinuses, unhinges your face a little. Your old lipstick leaves an imperfect stain on the rim, and you lick it off the ceramic with the tip of your tongue. The menu seems a little intimidating at first, but that’s how all diners are, you’ve found. There’s a stupid sort of vindication as you shut it after only a few flips. 6:00 am on a Tuesday and it’s time for pancakes, it is. You lean back on the vinyl seat, cross your legs. Faded pictures of coke bottles and penny

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milkshakes line the walls, situated above the large jukeboxes present at every table. You feel the momentary urge to play a song, but a stronger urge tells you not to disrupt the silence with your trivialities. The ambient sounds of your surroundings are enough on their own. The soft humming noise that you heard upon your arrival has settled like a layer of snow, filling the diner with a buzz of stasis energy—like you’ve pressed ‘pause’ on an old radio in the middle of your favorite song. You feel shut away from the street noise outside, and it’s nice. You expected that, at least at this hour, everyone would be minding their own business, enclosed in their own personal bubbles, but you find it’s the opposite. Waitresses talk to each other from across the room, not needing to raise their voices in this enclosed space. Other patrons put in their two cents from time to time, as if this was their own kitchen. A part of you wishes to join in too, but your voice gets caught in your throat, and you scold yourself for your crippling shyness. Ah, well. It’s sports jargon anyway, and that doesn’t interest you. Your breakfast arrives before long, blueberry pancakes and a plate of single-serve butters and little syrup cups. You drown your breakfast in refined sugars and pour the rest of the syrup into your cooling coffee. It’s filling, stick-toyour-ribs food—food that feels good more than it tastes good. As you eat, the morning starts to fill itself out. The sky outside the diner’s windows streak with peach pink, giving way to a liquid brightness that filters through the blinds and interrupts your space. You watch as your fork glints on its way to your mouth, how the shadows cast by your body bunch and shift like bed sheets. It got so bright in such a short time you wonder if the pre-dawn grayness ever even existed. It’s all very romantic, but again that may just be the time of day. The noises in the diner start to rise as more and more people filter in for breakfast, and little by little the romance fades into something more familiar. You lean

back in your seat and frown at the remains of pancake left on your plate. The detritus stares back at you in silent judgment, sheened in leftover butter and syrup. Time to go. You gather your things and slide out of the booth, feeling warm and loose with the lethargy that comes with being well-fed. You pay for your meal in ones at the cash register by the door. The resulting whirr and clang of the waitress handing back your change is almost too loud at first and brings you back to reality with a solid yank; you suddenly don’t want to leave. Walking out of here means catching a bus home, going to class, cramming for that test you’ve been ignoring all week. You glance back at the booth you were just sitting at, but the table has already been cleared for a family of five. You sigh. Well, no one said that you could pause life forever. This is a good place to go if you want to be alone but not lonely, you think as you push your way back outside. The sky is soft and hazy from sunlight, stretching on for miles. It’s the place to fall in love over bottomless coffee and people gesturing to each other across booths, the place to go in the dead of night for greasy drunk food and brown sauce you can lick right off your fingers, over clinking plates and green vinyl booths vibrating with the tunes of the ages. This is the place to give your bones a brief respite, to retreat from the bustle of each day until you’re ready to go back out and look life straight in the face—and press play.

HUNGRY? CHECK OUT RITTER"S DINER FOR YOURSELF AT 5221 BAUM BLVD. OPEN 24 HOURS WEDNESDAY THRU SATURDAY, AND 6:30 AM – 11:30 PM ON SUNDAY TRHU MONDAY.

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press p ause The Snapshot Of A Morning Spent At Ritter's Diner

AUTHOR: RIKKI LI PHOTOGRAPHER: ABBY WANG DESIGNER: MICHAEL KNARR

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Pittsburgh Murals

hen I first came to Pittsburgh, my friends and I took a trip to the Strip District to try the legendary DeLucaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s. While my friends waited on the eternal line, I wandered around and was surprised to find art everywhere I turned. I looked through a pottery shop, tasted the sauces and pastries sold by street vendors, and was captivated by the massive murals that climb up so many buildings and walls. Astounded by the abundance of creative expression and art, I fell in love with Pittsburgh.

Pittsburgh is beautifully unique from all other metropolitan areas in America. It is a mosaic of many neighborhoods, each with reflections of the rich culture and history that has shaped them. I found this especially evident in the murals that coat the city. The Moving the Lives of Kids Community Mural Project, also known as MLK Mural, and the Sprout Fund both sponsor and create many of the murals. MLK Mural is a charity that aims to teach and interest kids in art via public art. The Sprout Fund provides financial support to innovative projects that better Pittsburgh.

AUTHOR: JULIE HEMPHILL PHOTOGRAPHER: JULIE HEMPHILL DESIGNER: AMI BALLO

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theoriginalmagazine.com

DOWNTOWN There is great pride in Pittsburgh sports, as can be seen in the long mural of the Pittsburgh Pirates, welcoming those entering downtown. It is an enlargement of a painting originally done by Michael Malle. It depicts the some of Pittsburghs great baseball players. The mural “The Two Andys,” by Tom Mosser and Sarah Zeffiro, playfully remembers two men who forever changed Pittsburgh: Andrew Carnegie and Andy Warhol. “Yesterday’s Tomorrow” by Brian Holderman shows what people thought the future would be. There is an overarching theme of transportation, including blimps and railways. Unfortunately, there are no jet packs or hoverboards to be seen. Still, the mural is lively, fun, and shows the optimism we hold in the future of our city even if it isn’t entirely accurate.

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THE STRIP “Welcome to the Strip” by Sandy Kessler Kaminski is exactly what it sounds like. It incorporates the most important aspects of the Strip: fish, coffee, bread, fresh fruit, the 16th Street Bridge and the horse sculptures on it, and the stained glass windows of the Saint Stanilaus Church. “The Strip Mural” by Carley Parrish and Shannon Pultz also pay homage to the businesses and people that brought success to the Strip in a fun and bright manner. Flowers and bright colors line the streets at 22nd and Penn, while a mural of the incredible food sold at the Strip by Yuri Von, Shane Pilster, and Molly Dorrance decorates the corner two blocks down 20th and Penn.

SOUTHSIDE The murals of Shepard Fairey sadly are fading away, but we still can appreciate the incredible art displayed on large scale in the streets of Southside. Well known for the Change campaign poster for President Barack Obama and the Andre the Giant OBEY stencil, Shepard Fairey is reminiscent of Andy Wahol’s style – very appropriate for Pittsburgh. “Summer Harvest Goddess” by Carolyn Kelly illustrates the weekly farmer’s markets that are held in Southside throughout the summer. A dinosaur wearing a Steeler’s scarf can be seen among the fruits and vegetables in the cornucopia. The bright colors tell the tale of Southside’s past, present, and future in “A Piece of Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow” by Monica Cervone McElwain. “Remembering Workers, Remembering Veterans” by Lucas Scott, Douglas Brunner, and Temisan Adoki pays tribute to the steel workers and military veterans of Pittsburgh.

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SHADYSIDE “Urban Flora” by Katherine Young can be found on Walnut Street in Shadyside. It is interesting in its design and detail, especially how the trees are created only by the paint surrounding them. It is representative of the upbeat and modern feel of Shadyside with a creative flair.

BLOOMFIELD OAKLAND

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Oakland is the beloved home of many university students, and the colorful lifestyle is reflected in the energetic murals. Mad Mex sports the newest addition to the collection of these murals: an incredibly bright arrangement with falling oak leaves, presumably referencing the ‘oak’ in Oakland. “Interpretations of Oakland” by Jonathon Laidacker is what the residents of Oakland often call the Mr. Roger’s mural. At the top, photographs of scenes in Oakland represent the present neighborhood, while Mr. Roger’s and Mary Schenley’s faces can be found towards the bottom of the mural. “Doors of Oakland #5” by Anire Mosley can be found near the Starbucks on Atwood. “Oakland Mural” by Kyle Holbrook, Shane Pilster, Tim Clinton, Mike Cocco, and Ryan Smigel depicts many of the landmarks of Oakland, including Phipps Conservatory, Heinz Chapel, and Soldier’s and Sailor’s Memorial.

“Bridging the Generations of Bloomfield” by Monika McAndrew illustrates the strong Italian heritage that flows in Bloomfield, also known as Pittsburgh’s Little Italy. The people in the background are dressed in older, classic attire representing the first generation to immigrate to America. The younger, more modern dressed people represent the people of Italian heritage in Pittsburgh today, still proud of their ancestry and the impact they have made on Pittsburgh.

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in focus

say bunny....................................................................................................46 the sprocket guild..........................................................................52 forks or chopsticks.......................................................................55 45

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Say Bunny! SCAREHOUSE: PITTSBURGH'S ULTIMATE HAUNTED HOUSE. ENTER IF YOU DARE...

AUTHOR: MELANIE MOYER PHOTOGRAPHER: JACOB TRETTEL ILLUSTRATOR: AMBER TORRISE DESIGNER: RIKKI LI

t’s a chilly October night and the normally quiet suburb of Etna is buzzing with activity as a line of people wraps itself around the building at 118 Locust Street. Inside awaits an entertaining assault on the senses brought to you by tortured souls, demented elves, flesh-craving zombies, and one creepy bunny. And if you’re brave enough, you may even find yourself alone in the dark down below, tied to chairs and strapped to gurneys while crazed serial killers spout threats at you left and right. This is ScareHouse, one of America’s scariest Halloween attractions according to the Travel Channel, named in the 10 Wickedest Haunted Houses in America by Forbes magazine, and #5 on Top Haunt Magazine. Acclaimed personally by horror film directors Guillermo del Toro (Hellboy, Pan’s Labyrinth) and Michael Dougherty (Trick ‘r Treat), this attraction has been scaring people from its current location in Etna, PA since 2007. The haunt is owned by Scott Simmons (who also serves as the haunt’s Creative Director), his wife Barb, and Scott’s father Wayne. Scott and Barb first met, unsurprisingly, at a haunt back in the 90s where Scott worked as an actor and Barb as a manager, both sharing a dream to one day own their own haunt. They got their chance in 1999 when the first ScareHouse opened; it moved to McKnight Road in 2003 and in 2006 acquired its current location. And that building on Locust Street has an even more intricate and fascinating history than ScareHouse itself: it originally served as a recreational facility, complete with a pool for workers at a local factory across the street. The Elks fraternal took over the building as a lodge in the 1930s after a flood in the town destroyed many local businesses. The Elks Lodge in Etna was counted among the order’s largest, it served as a venue for touring national acts (the balcony and theatre signs can still be seen before you enter the haunts and Creepo’s Christmas still utilizes part of the old stage), and a large bar for members. But the most interesting part of the Elks history, and for most fraternal orders, is the role of rituals in their activities. This lodge even hosted a national ritual competition among the Elks across the country. The lodge also housed a bowling alley in the basement and a roller rink, focusing on community outreach that led to a huge boom for Etna. However membership started dwindling in the 80s and 90s before the Etna chapter was forced to merge with Sharpsburg, and in 2006, the building fell into the ownership of the Simmons family. Dr. Margee Kerr, a sociologist who aids ScareHouse with the science behind scaring, says this year ScareHouse wants to strive to celebrate the history of their building, specifically the Elks Lodge, with their newest haunt this fall (which replaced The Forsaken). Speaking of those haunts, let’s talk about them; after all, they’re what makes it ScareHouse, especially since this is year is the haunt’s “most ambitious year yet.” Traditionally, ScareHouse hosts three haunts, all in a row, though 2012 saw the addition of a fourth. Retired haunts include Hall of Nightmares, inspired by Tales From the Crypt, Disney’s Haunted Mansion, and Italian horror films; Screamatorium, inspired by Silent Hill; and Rampage, a steampunk, science fiction themed attraction. Dr. Kerr says her favorite past haunt is Delirium, the former 3-D haunt of the attraction that she described as “a big, crazy dance party,” citing the haunt’s rave-themed energy and the use of the Vortex (a spinning tunnel designed to disorient and dizzy guests). The present-day haunts, however, are just as much fun. The Forsaken (which, as mentioned above, saw its last run in 2013) centered around a carnival themed town where all the citizens are soulless, tormented creatures. You’re next led into Creepo’s Christmas in 3D where you find yourself in a world of demented elves and a very sinister Christmas. And the last haunt, Pittsburgh Zombies, places you in a very familiar

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setting, only this time the City of Bridges is infested with a zombie outbreak, and you’re trapped right in the middle of it. And then comes: the Basement. The haunt started as an experience in 2012 where willing participants were selected at random from the line and taken down into a room, sat in a chair and forced to directly interact with a very creepy woman. In 2013 it turned into a full-fledged haunt in the bowels of ScareHouse where guests entered 1-2 at a time and found themselves touched, grabbed, tied down, and directly talked to by actors. The experience found me handcuffed then tied to a chair with a bag thrown over my head for good measure, my companion was strapped to a gurney and we both were crawling on the ground, locked in bathroom stalls, and accosted more than once by a multitude of creeps who wanted, very vocally, to wear our skin. Note: this attraction is 18+ and requires you sign a written waiver fully acknowledging that you will be touched by actors and spoken to obscenely. And it is through discussion of the Basement that Dr. Kerr really got into what ScareHouse is all about. “We always go for scary fun,” she says, “Get people to that place where they know when they’re safe.” She referenced Immanuel Kant’s philosophy on humans in the unfamiliar and the need for safety as a main tenet to the Basement and all of ScareHouse: you know you’re safe, nothing is going to touch you in the main haunt, and in the Basement nothing is going to actually hurt you, accepting that, the fun begins. Dr. Kerr has done extensive study on the science behind fear and what works and what doesn’t. Specifically she noted people who are completely intolerant of scary situations (i.e. your friends who won’t even watch Goosebumps let alone Saw) have a different process going on in their brain: “Anticipation of the unknown—that’s the part they can’t sit with…The process

system (for distress) spikes then—boom—it shuts off.” She says the chemicals are more sustained in people who enjoy haunted houses comparing the two as “a bottle rocket vs. a sparkler.” ScareHouse strives to balance atmosphere and interaction. Specifically what’s known as the “startle scare” is a sure-fire way to get someone in a haunted house, as Dr. Kerr explains the amygdala automatically responds to loud bangs or things jumping out at you unexpectedly. But atmosphere and theming are equally important at ScareHouse and part of the reason it’s found its way on so many top lists. The focus on details and theming is all going towards the goal of immersing the guest in the haunt so that “they forget where they are,” says Kerr. And in doing so, ScareHouse has done a pretty solid job of avoiding clichés in Halloween attractions though Kerr notes it is hard, calling traditional Halloween attraction clichés “a toolbox.” She notes

“...accosted more than once by a multitude of creeps who wanted, very vocally, to wear our skin.” 49

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SCAREHOUSE IS WAITING FOR YOU. 118 LOCUST ST. ETNA, PA 15223 PHONE: 412-781-5885

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that all characters in the attraction are original (nope, you won’t find Freddy or Jason stalking Etna) and that part of the fun is that every year a new generation makes these traditional Halloween scares and ghouls new again. Back to that old scary building however, which you can’t help but ask: is it haunted? According to the employees, yes it very much is. Walter, the resident ghost, has been reportedly seen by many employees and random strange occurrences, lights going out, moved objects, etc. have been reported. Several paranormal groups have requested permission to investigate, but ScareHouse is quite content to remain just officially haunted by the characters they create. As for the tunnels beneath the building, those rumors have more fact in them. There are tunnels, though they’re narrow, built to house pipes, and are partially flooded. Video of the tunnels can be found on ScareHouse’s YouTube page. ScareHouse is, ultimately, everything you could want in a Halloween haunt if you’re a regular of houses of horror. And to the town it inhabits, it’s certainly a revenue booster between the droves of guests it brings and the community fundraisers it partakes in. The Simmons family can be assured their dream haunt is the dream haunt to its visitors, from locals to college kids to Hollywood’s own.

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THE SPRoCKET GUILD Producing the producers

ne of the most frustrating things about being a creative young person is the fact that you never really seem to have the budget or resources to recreate whatever images you have floating around your own head. The mantra “lights, camera, action” certainly has a much nicer ring to it than “expensive equipment, hired talent, obstacles.” Frustrations like these fog our visions and can cause creatives to shrug their shoulders at producing their own content before they’re even given the chance to begin. This daunting dilemma is nothing new—the DIY mentality has always been one that can easily hit plenty of roadblocks along the way without proper premeditation and preparation. For example, if you want to bring your one-act play into production, you’ll need actors, sets, props, coordinated stage directions, a venue, and an audience. That’s certainly no easy task! I get exhausted just thinking about it. Although it becomes easier every day to have your art shown off to people all around the world, sometimes creative content isn’t as easy as a record and upload keystroke. Coordinating the minute details before getting started will either be the grand process of actualizing a dream or the disheartening act of wading through a nightmare. However, with all of this potential frustration comes the beautiful reassurance of collaboration. That’s where we come in. The Sprocket Guild is a revived collaborative video production club involving Pittsburgh students and members of the local film community. Although the original vision of the club fell apart back in 2011, we do have one central philosophy in common: allowing student filmmakers to obtain the resources needed to produce their own projects. Resources aren’t just lights, mics, and cameras—it extends to actors, writers, and production crew members, creating a community of like-minded people that love to generating awesome content. The revive started when me and my friend Connor Medgaus, fellow president of the club, wanted to start producing our own videos using scripts we wrote together, but we lacked the crew and equipment. The way I see it, a writer’s biggest challenge is making their script more than just a piece of paper, an actor’s biggest challenge is finding compelling characters to bring to life, and a director’s biggest challenge is finding a production to lead. That’s when we thought to bring back the Sprocket Guild and reinvent it as a means to gather together all of our talented friends and tons of talented strangers. So, as the first few baby steps, we wrote a few starting scripts, built two camera shoulder rigs out of PVC from a hardware store, and assembled a team of directors, Nick Fury style. The original version of the Sprocket Guild was more of an internship opportunity, but our version works as more of a perpetually growing community. We hold writers tables, acting improv games, production meetings to demo equipment, and general meetings for video reveals and group updates. We don’t make people sign away months and months’ worth of their weekends, we don’t try to land any big name members of the film community, and we certainly try

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The Sprocket Guild is a revived collaborative video production club involving Pittsburgh students and members of the local film community. 12/11/14 1:36 AM

AUTHOR: JARRETT KRAUSE PHOTOGRAPHER: RISHA APPADURAI DESIGNER: AMI BALLO

to have everyone’s voice be heard if they’re willing to speak up. We’re an unpaid and self-motivated group of creatives (whom we’ve dubbed as “sprocketeers”) that really, truly want to create and save ourselves from the obstacle-laced rut of hesitation. The little guys, and I absolutely consider myself one of the little guys, get to feel big for once. So that’s what we do, add each of our skills together to make something bigger than ourselves. The best part of it all is that nobody gets left out. There’s an actor for every character, a director for every project, and a writer for every story, providing both an outlet for short and exciting content and a way for people to develop their skills as part of a real production team. We even have people working on makeup and props in their downtime. One of the most frequent questions we’ve gotten so far is about the club’s name. The sprocket is a profiled wheel with teeth that are made to mesh with chains or tracks but never with another sprocket directly,

differentiating itself from gears. It’s the smallest mechanical tool that can get things done, acting as the foundation of any large machine made of gears and sprockets, every single one is absolutely essential. The Guild is a large machine that is operated off of a bunch of small moving parts, each leading to operation of the next part. We think, we write, we act, and we film—that is our function. Every single one of us is crucial to the next, because we all know how difficult it is trying to produce and operate on our own. The name is not only a metaphor for how we work, it’s also our mantra. So far, the general response to the club has been surprisingly fantastic. Lately we’ve been completing scripts left and right, filming weekly private sessions with musicians, and demoing all kinds of software and equipment to one another. It’s been an oftentimes painstaking process, organizing tons of people and letting so many different facets of their projects develop at the same time, but it’s been nothing but rewarding. The coolest

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feeling in the entire world is when you stand in front of a bunch of your peers, announce “I am passionate about this,” and have so many of them immediately jump at the opportunity to help your dreams come to fruition. And that’s not because we’ve commissioned people to do our busy work for us, it’s because we’re all looking off in the same direction, walking together. It’s still hard to believe that all of this started when Connor and I sat down to document a few jokes and absurd narratives. Now we have bands lining up to shoot with us, writers submitting draft after draft of incredible screenplays, and an insanely dedicated and imaginative crew. Deciding that you want to create is the first step, and the second step is realizing that so many other awesome and like-minded individuals want to as well. All clubs come and go, bending after each year’s transition, but we tried to build the Sprocket Guild into something that was more than just a club. We wanted to form inspiration—a video production community based on a spirit of passionate creativity, something that can’t ever really die.

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forks or chopsticks: family feasts at spice island

AUTHOR: KARLEY SNYDER PHOTOGRAPHER: AMI BALLO ILLUSTRATOR: ASHLEY WERTZ DESIGNER: MICHAEL KNARR

The e-board explores the exquisite cuisine of Spice Island Tea House, Oakland’ s tastiest Asian restaurant.

f I could only drink one thing for the rest of my life, I think it’d be Spice Island’s Thai coffee. What’s better than extra sweet and creamy caffeine? Though their Thai iced tea is also quite delectable, and now I am rethinking my drink ultimatum. See, both beverages are very sweet, though the coffee is a richer, thicker option. The iced tea is lighter, more tangy, and refreshing. But, this is only the first decision to make with the vast array of deliciousness that is Spice Island Tea House’s menu. Open since 1995, Spice Island exoticizes Oakland with its diverse menu of Thai, Burmese, Singaporean, Malaysian, and Indonesian dishes. Naturally, the E-board had to sample its variety of South East Asian cuisine, so we rounded up the group for a family dinner. “You shouldn’t have told me about this place—I’m going to be here all the time!” said Christine only after about five minutes of sitting at our long, rectangular table. With

its dim lighting and Asian-influenced décor, Spice Island has a comfortable, welcoming atmosphere. And with Queen’s “Somebody to Love” resonating throughout the room, we were diggin’ the place. After struggling with indecision for far too long, we were finally able to decide upon our meals. It was quite the challenge with far too many deliciously described dinner options. Once the server brought out our meals, the smell of curry flooded my senses, and my belly was rumbling at a whole new decibel of hunger. But, before we ate, we had one more step: “Can we say a prayer?” Brandon half-jokingly asked. We hold hands and bow our heads, as our sermon began. “Scrub a dub dub, thanks for the grub!” we giggled before gorging ourselves. I got the Vegetarian Curry Trio, a combination of eggplant, green beans, and potato sautéed in a spicy red curry sauce. I don’t know what

it is, but I keep trying to enjoy eggplant and I just can’t do it. It’s just too slimy or something. Though, the veggies paired terrifically with the curry, especially with vatanya peas and rice that come with every entrée. Ami and Mike both ordered the Java Fried Rice, a stir-fried dish of shrimp, chicken, bell pepper, red chili pepper, and green onion stirfried in a sweet soy sauce and garnished with egg-strips and fried onion. Though, the two of them had much different eating experiences. “I ate it all. I get it every time,” Mike explained. Coming from a skinny, tall boy, finishing the entire plate says a lot about this dish’s level of tastiness. Ami, on the other hand, said, “I wasn’t even thinking about it. I don’t remember.” The Monsoon of Vegetables—braised eggplant, okra, squash, string bean, and cauliflower in a spicy, tamarind sauce—was Sarah’s choice. However, she suggested that the dish should’ve been called “an avalanche of food.” The spicier the better for Sarah, and

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SPICE ISLAND TEA HOUSE IS LOCATED AT 253 ATWOOD STREET. THEY ARE OPEN MONDAY– THURSDAY 11:30AM - 9PM AND FRIDAY–SATURDAY 11:30AM - 10PM, WITH BOTH LUNCH AND DINNER OPTIONS AVAILABLE.

this entrée had a sufficient level of hotness for her standards. Jarrett decided on the Thai Basil Fried Rice, a combination of shrimp, onion, bean sprout, peas, fresh basil leaves, and spicy minced chili pepper. In his opinion, the rice was cooked perfectly, and the shrimp added a lot. Jarrett drank quite a bit of the Thai iced tea after already consuming coffee. In regards to over-caffeination, he said, “It’s the best. Your hands shake, and you forget how to love.” Our trip to Spice Island was quite a moving experience. Christine never had Thai food before, but she was extremely impressed after ordering the Pad Thai. Stir-fried rice linguini with chicken, shrimp, bean sprout, egg, and crushed peanuts comprises this entrée, a typical introductory dish to the Thai world. Christine was ravenous even before we entered the restaurant, and her hunger got the best of her sense of taste—“I think I blacked out. I was so hungry.” Regardless of level of consciousness, Christine is now a Thai food convert. “How far along do I look?” Brandon said as he pointed to his stomach, expanding with a growing food baby of Rangoon Night Market Noodle. This dish consists of soft egg noodle tossed in garlic oil and sweet soy sauce, with roasted pork. “Clandestine,” he says with a burp. Whatever that means. We all leaned back in our chairs with full bellies and smiles across our faces. Anytime the E-board goes out in public, we’re bound to cause a nonsensical, giggly scene. As evident, Mike was explaining to us about his adventures of washing old men while in nursing clinicals, and Brandon kept trying to hold Christine’s hand (unwillingly) from across the table. As we got our checks, the fact that we’re creative folk was beyond evident. How do we split checks? How do we do math? We just make things complicated, only reaffirming that I am a writer and not capable of understanding numbers. While I may not be able to do math, I can appreciate a delicious meal, and Spice Island Tea House certainly did not disappoint.

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Community

Guide (Lawrenceville / BloomfIeld)

17 things to do in lawrenceville.........................................58 taste of india...............................................................................................62 Who knew?........................................................................................................63 A NEIGHBORHOOD ON THE RISE.......................................................65 Two Girls, all the pizza.................................................................68 THIS OLD HOUSE............................................................................................72 THE ROW HOUSE cinema........................................................................76 The Queen of crafts............................................................................78 An unlikely charm..................................................................................80 our home, the cider house............................................................88 57

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things to do in lawrenceville

Hi, hey, hello, and welcome to our guide to Lawrenceville! Throughout this section you will be introduced to the fantastic food, familiar faces, and funky storefronts that compose one of Pittsburgh’s most up-and-coming neighborhoods. Just over the Bloomfield Bridge, Lawrenceville is a short bus ride from Oakland, and its neighbors include Bloomfield, Polish Hill, and the Strip District. The area is divided into an upper, central, and lower section, with Butler Street as the main drag. Brick row houses and artistic murals decorate the Butler Street, where numerous coffee shops, restaurants, and clothing boutiques call home. I’ve put together a short list of some super bars, restaurants, shopping, and entertainment destinations, so check ‘em out when you’re looking for your next adventure! To make the tour more convenient, we’ve established a color code for you. Restaurants appear in blue, shopping and entertainment destinations in orange, and bars as well as other nightlife spots in green.

Pusadee’s Garden

espresso a mano

Pusadee’s Garden was my very first destination in Lawrenceville; a friend of mine took me there for dinner my freshmen year. I was new to Pittsburgh, barely even familiar with Oakland, though I already found my favorite restaurant in the city. Pusadee’s Garden has traditional Thai cuisine with over fifty authentic dishes created by Chef Busaba Tongdee. She creates every dish the way she remembers it from childhood. My personal favorite menu item is the pineapple curry with tofu, a combination of pineapple chunks, tomatoes, carrots & green peas. The real selling point of Pusadee’s is their outdoor patio. A canopy of ivy, other foliage, and string lights decorate the wooden roof of the outdoor dining space. I have yet to find anything comparable in Pittsburgh, making Pusadee’s Garden not only delicious but unique. They encourage reservations, and the restaurant is BYOB.

If there is anything us writers are good at (besides writing, of course), it’s appreciating a good cup of coffee. So far in my coffee tour of the ‘burgh, Espresso A Mano has been my favorite. Espresso A Mano is a high quality espresso bar and coffee shop, with a relaxed and friendly environment. They follow the Italian tradition to craft their coffee. “A mano” means “by hand”—one of the four components to a delicious espresso (the grind, the blend, and the machine comprise the other three). Their brews also focus on sustainability, offering many fair trade, direct trade, and organic coffees from roasters such as Counter Culture, La Prima Espresso, and Commonplace Coffee. Espresso A Mano also hosts a rotating coffee selection; each day they drip brew one blend, French press another, and offer two espresso options.

Hours of Operation:

Monday through Friday 7:00 am - 9:00 pm Saturday 8:00 am - 9:00 pm Sunday 8:00 am - 6:00 pm

5321 Butler Street

Monday through Friday 4:30 PM - 10:00 PM Saturday and Sunday 12:00PM - 10:00 PM

round corner cantina 3720 Butler Street

Now, I’m always looking for delicious Mexican food (mainly for the margaritas), which brought me to Cantina. A modern Mexican-influenced restaurant, Cantina caters to the midtwenty year old hipster crowd that is Lawrenceville—a perfect fit for Butler Street. But with delicious options like Baja Tofu Tacos and a large tequila menu, who could complain? I went to Round Corner Cantina for their Sunday brunch, served from 12:00pm-3:00pm. I gorged myself with their Tofu Scramble, a combination of Yukon gold potatoes, pico de gallo, jalapeño peppers, and avocado. The mimosas were a great addition, bottomless for $30 (way out of my broke college student budget, but hey, a girl can dream). They also host live music every weekend in their cabana, which can be rented out for private parties. Tequila, tacos, and tunes, what more could you need. Happy hour is from 5:00pm-7:00pm Monday through Friday!

Hours of Operation:

Monday through Wednesday 11:30 am - 12:00 am Thursday through Saturday 11:30 am - 2:00 am Sunday 12:00 pm - 12:00 am

3623 butler street

Hours of Operation:

kaliedoscope café RD 108 43 Street

Want delicious food and approachable fine dining? That’s what Kaleidoscope Café is all about. Since its’ foundation in 2010, Kaleidoscope Café provides Lawrenceville with an eclectic variety of American dishes in an intimate, casual environment. Chef Dan tries to create unique flavor combinations with classic techniques. Kaleidoscope Café houses an assortment of entrees within the mural-covered exterior, such as: Autumn Harvest Salad, The Cow Jumped Over the Moon Pasta, and Duck Cannoli. All of the tabletops are designed by local artists. Kaleidoscope also features a complimentary bottle of wine every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, with the purchase of a small plate and two entrees. Written on the café’s website: “Pay us a visit and we’ll love you.” So, if you need some lovin’ as well as an interesting dinner, check out Kaleidoscope Café. They encourage reservations and host events and catering. Additionally, the restaurant is BYOB.

Hours of Operation:

tuesday through saturday 11:00 AM - 10:00 PM

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Remedy Restaurant & Lounge 5121 butler street

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a restaurant quite like Remedy. The bar is essentially an old house, with its upstairs still divided into rooms. Old woodwork and fireplace mantles add to the retro punk décor. I almost feel like I’m at a house party with their monthly dance parties on weekend evenings from 10:00pm-2:00am. They have rotating DJ performances Saturday nights, which is a great opportunity for dancing. Also, they feature new and upcoming local artists every month. As far as food is concerned, they offer classic American grub— French fries, pierogies, chicken (or seitan) wings, tacos, and burgers. Specials include the Yinzer salad, and they offer both vegetarian and vegan options. The Vegan Sloppy Joe, a sandwich of ground seitan, diced veggies, and spicy house Joe sauce, is mouth-watering. Remedy also has numerous beers on tap, with a draft list that changes daily.

Hours of Operation:

Monday / Saturday 4:00 PM - 2:00 AM tuesday through friday 3:00 Pm - 2:00 AM Sunday 12:30 PM - 2:00 Am

nied’s hotel 5438 butler street

Founded in 1941 by Paul Nied, Nied’s Hotel began as a tavern in Homestead before relocating to Butler Street. In 1977, Paul’s son Jim followed in his father’s footsteps; today, Jim continues to provide great food and hospitality to Pittsburgh. The restaurant has evolved since its’ foundation, changing from a friendly neighborhood tavern to an entertainment destination. Nied’s Hotel also is responsible for establishing the Nied’s Hotel Band, a philanthropic performing group. Through the band’s efforts, an amphitheater was built adjacent to the Hotel, and self-described as an “acoustically perfect” location. Nied’s Hotel Amphitheater hosts many amazing concerts. In addition to their musical reputation, Nied’s is famous for its’ classic Pittsburgh vibe, ginormous fried fish sandwich, and bartenders full of elaborate stories. Their menu consists of seafood, burgers, hot dogs, and chicken, which all pair fantastically with an icedcold Iron City.

divertido

3609 butler street

“Divertido” is the Spanish word for “fun,” and that’s exactly what the store houses inside its doors. Opening in 2004, Divertido’s goal is to provide artful, unique gifts in a world of plastic gift cards and online registries. Their stock ranges in clever, beautiful, and unusual items, such as silk scarves, handcrafted handbags, eclectic jewelry, humorous wallets, engaging books, interesting home accents and décor, creative cards and calendars, and even a section for kids. Come and have some fun!

Hours of Operation:

Tuesday, wednesday, friday, and saturday 11:00 AM - 6:00 pM thursday 11:00 AM - 8:00 pM

Hours of Operation:

bloom organic skincare parlor

rd gallery on 34 street rd

Bloom houses an exciting menu of pure, all-natural, highquality, animal cruelty-free products and skincare treatments. Their products have been derived from fruit, vegetable, seed, plant, and milk protein extracts, and they do not include toxic fragrances, dyes, or chemicals. Erinn Thompson, owner of Bloom, has ten years of skincare treatment experience, and she is also an expert brow shaper. Her clients range from twenty years old to seventy-five, showing that Bloom has treatments for everyone’s needs. Erinn developed a unique selection of organic facials, all with organic products. Erinn believes that the key to the vitality of your skin comes from natural health, rather than covering up flaws with cosmetics and surgeries. Bloom keeps with a traditional European technique, offering a relaxed, intimate, natural atmosphere, while housed in a rustic, Victorian parlor. Erinn accepts new clients on a referral basis, taking appointments Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays.

monday through friday 7:00 AM - 12:00 AM Saturday 7:00 AM - close

187 34 street

Opened in November of 1994, The Gallery on 43rd Street offers fine arts and crafts created by Western Pennsylvania artists. The owner Mary Coleman has been a weaver since 1981, and her woven rugs, place ments, and table runners are on display throughout the gallery. Painters, potters, photographers, jewelers, glass-blowers, and trivet-makers all offer their creations for one-of-a-kind purchases. The house has been around since 1881, adding a traditional feeling to the gallery.

Hours of Operation:

Tuesday through saturday 11:00 AM - 6:00 pM by appointment on sundays

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5220 butler street

Hours of Operation:

by appointment only email erinn@bloomskincare.net 59

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crystal bead bazaar

arsenal Bowling lanes th

It’s all about the beads at Crystal Bead Bazaar, Pittsburgh’s largest full service shop for beads. Owner Joanne Yalch opened her bazaar in 2003 after her frustration with finding specific beads without ordering them online. Joanne has been beading for over fifteen years. She travels in order to buy beads for her customers, aiming to provide a fun and friendly atmosphere to share the camaraderie of beading. Crystal Bead Bazaar offers a wide selection of beads in a myriad of shapes and sizes, including Czech glass, Swarovski elements, semiprecious stones, pearls, Venetian beads, Lampwork beads, seed beads, metal beads, and miscellaneous others. The store is also stocked with stringing materials and jewelry making tools. Additionally, Joanne offers beading and jewelry making classes for any and all skill levels. With the Tri-State area’s best selection of high quality beads, Crystal Bead Bazaar has something for every beader, novice or experienced. Check out their selection at www.crystalbeadbazaar.com.

Arsenal Lanes is where old school bowling meetings nightclub atmosphere. Whether you are looking for a family activity for the weekend or somewhere to party, Arsenal Lanes is sure to offer a fun-filled bowling experience. In addition to bowling specials for each day of the week, Arsenal offers classic American snacks, such as fries, chicken fingers, pizza, and burgers and a full-service bar. Parties and bowling leagues are also available. Check out their College Night on Tuesdays, with 50 cent bowling, 50 cent drafts, with an $8 cover from 9:00pm-midnight. Or, on Friday night for DJ & Karaoke, where $10.95 will get you unlimited bowling from 9:00pm-midnight. Their website - www.arsenalbowl.com - offers a complete list of weekly specials.

4521 butler street

Hours of Operation:

Tuesday, wednesday, friday, and saturday 10:00 AM - 6:00 pM thursday 10:00 AM - 9:00 pM sunday 12:00 PM - 5:00 PM

jay design soaps & gifts 4603 butler street

Jay Bernard became interested in making handmade soap in 1989. Since then, Jay has perfected his soap-making tradition; he makes one small batch at a time, which takes a total of three days to complete. Jay’s store offers long lasting, gently cleansing, all natural products, including hand soaps, bath bars, seasonal soaps, gift sets, and bath scrubs, to name a few. He strives for a waste-free craft, following eco-conscious values of creating useful products from everyday ingredients. Jay’s soaps are rich with glycerin and contain no artificial colorings, fillers, additives, or preservatives. Jay strives to focus on making his handcrafted soaps in resourceful ways, as evident with his soap molds beginning as humble sardine cans.

Thunderbird Café & Lounge 4023 butler street

One of the premier live music venues in Pittsburgh, Thunderbird features musical performances that range from up-and-coming local bands to national artists. Their state-of-the-art sound system, great food, awesome drinks, and comfortable, homey atmosphere make Thunderbird Café an excellent spot to spend a weekend. The staff at Thunderbird supports live music in a low-key bar setting, offering performances in a wide variety of genres—Americana, Alternative, Country, Rockabilly, Bluegrass, Indie, Rock, Folk, and the list doesn’t stop there. From college students to Deadheads, people of all ages flock Thunderbird because of its diverse mix of music selections. All shows are over 21 (it is a bar after all). Additionally, Thunderbird offers its guests a variety of classic bar food— quesadillas, wings, salads, sandwiches, burgers, and wraps are all headliners on their menu. Check out www.thunderbirdcafe.net for their upcoming events.

212 44 street

Hours of Operation:

Monday - Thursday 12:00 PM - 12:00 AM Friday 12:00 PM - 2:00 am Saturday 11:00 am - 2:00 am Sunday 11:00 aM - 12:00 AM

brillobox

4104 penn avenue

A restaurant, bar, and performance space, Brillobox is committed to providing Pittsburgh with high-quality entertainment and social experiences. Brillobox’s second floor is used as a cultural space for music performance; they handle all live, local music bookings in-house. The space offers Pittsburghers alternative entertainment events, such as DJ dance parties, art events, spoken-word poetry, fundraisers, variety shows, screenings, and various other community-oriented activities. They also partner with Opus One Productions for all national, non-local live music bookings. Aside from their phenomenal concert opportunities, Brillobox also has a delectable menu, including vegetarian and vegan options. Some dishes include baked nachos, buffalo chicken sandwich, falafel, and macaroni and cheese. Brillobox also has a long list of draft beer selections, a big bottle beer menu, and specialty drinks, such as their California Bubble Bath— a combination of Maker’s Mark bourbon, cynar, fresh squeezed lemon, and lavender simple syrup. Check out their event line-up at www.brillobox.net.

Hours of Operation:

tuesday through sunday 5:00 pM - 2:00 AM

Hours of Operation:

Monday - Saturday 7:00 aM - 2:00AM

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belvedere’s

jay design soaps & gifts

If you like to dress up in themes, dance, drink, and/or play pinball, then Belvedere’s is right up your alley. Belvedere’s hosts a variety of dance parties and rock shows. With cheap drinks and a welcoming atmosphere, Belvedere’s is a place for all types. Aside from dancing, Belvedere’s houses pinball machines, pool tables, and dart boards for drunken fun. They have a long list of beer on tap, chocolate stouts, and growlers to go. Belvedere’s winter cocktail list is now available as well. Sunday is Sampling Night, where guests can enjoy samples of newly tapped drinks and house cocktails. Mondays are The 222--$2 wells, $2 domestics, and $2 menu items from 10pm12am. Don’t miss Karaoke on Tuesdays, with one zillion songs to choose from and $1 Iron City cans. Punk Nights are hosted on Wednesdays. Thursdays are Neon 80s nights—the best themed dance night in the city. On Weekends, Belvedere’s hosts 90s nights, Total Request Live (yes, like the MTV days), among other specialty-themed nights. Stop by their happy hour from 5:00pm-7:00pm Monday through Fridays for 50% off drinks $3 and over, such as their Always Sunny— Sweet Tea Vodka, Kombucha, and Fresh Lemon.

With its purple and black, glass-tiled exterior, Eclipse looks like a party even from the street. Eclipse Lounge offers beer, wine, and signature cocktails along with a small menu of great bites. All their vegetables are organic, and they do not serve food with any artificial flavors/colors, high fructose corn syrup, or hormones. Their food menu consists of snacks like edamame, spinach cheese dip, and gyros, which pair deliciously with their house signature cocktail Eclipse—a combination of Red berry vodka, Concord wine, tart cherry and grape juice with a touch of watermelon liquor. Every day they host happy hour from 5:00pm-7:00pm, with daily drink specials such as $1 off well drinks on Monday and half-off glasses of wine on Thursday. Every Monday Eclipse hosts the Howie Alexander Jazz Trio at 9pm. Every Wednesday is Acoustic Night from 8:00pmmidnight. And every Friday from 6:00-9:00pm is a performance by Kenny Blake Jazz. On Fridays and Saturdays they host DJ performances starting at 9:30pm.

4016 butler street

Hours of Operation:

Sunday - Saturday 11:00 AM - 2:00 AM

allegheny wine mixer

3705 butler street

Hours of Operation:

Monday 7:00 PM - close tuesday, wednesday, and thursday 5:00 PM - close friday 4:00 pm - 2:00 am saturday 12:00 pM - 2:00 AM

5326 Butler Street

Now, there are two things in this world I really, truly love— wine, and Will Ferrell flicks. Allegheny Wine Mixer combines the two—a wine bar and tap room named after the famous Catalina Wine Mixer scene in Step Brothers. The owners of AWM wanted to identify their bar as specifically Pittsburgh without succumbing to stuffy stereotypes of smooth jazz and potted ferns. So, they named their establishment after one of the dumbest yet funniest movies in recent memory. AWM offers wine by the glass or by the bottle, craft beer, cocktails, cheeses and cured meats, and more. Their website describes their atmosphere as: “No ferns, no canned jazz, no TV. Just good times and bad art.” AWM has a long list of bottle selections to suit any palate. This fall, AWM is focusing on Italy’s northernmost region for wine selections, such as Alois Lageder, Castel Salegg Pulvernai, and San Michele All’adige, to name a few. If you want to take your wine with you, they offer a re-corking service where they will re-cap the bottle and bag it up. They also offer six packs to go. Musically, AWM has a diverse playlist of 3500 songs on the Mixer iPod. The bulk of their music library is composed of 60s garage and beat music from the US and around the world. Glam, classic rude boy ska, 50s R&B, girl groups, first-wave punk, and the occasional Black Sabbath tune also comprise the musical accompaniment.

Hours of Operation:

Wednesday and Thursday 5:00 pm - 12:00 am Friday and Saturday 5:00 pm - 1:00 am Sunday 5:00 pm - 12:00 am

AUTHOR: KARLEY SNYDER PHOTOGRAPHER: SARAH BAUMANN DESIGNER: MICHAEL KNARR 61

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AUTHOR: JARED SALZANO PHOTOGRAPHER: ARIELLE BERK DESIGNER: RIKKI LI

Taste of India

a review of bloomfield’'s indian cuisine

friend and I set out for Taste of India on Penn Avenue in Bloomfield. When we arrived, the sign said they had closed at 2:30PM and would open again at 5:00PM. It was almost 5:00, so we waited around and were the first to enter. It was dim inside. The lights above a long table in the middle of the room provided the only light. The waiter greeted us, showed us to a booth and poured us water. When my friend removed her coat, the waiter asked whether he should adjust the temperature. We said it was all right. He left, and shortly he came back with some papadums (thin, crispy bread) and mango and mint chutneys. The mint was spicy and I thought there must have been pepper sauce in it. The waiter returned and we ordered coconut soup, rogan josh, shrimp curry, and a cup of chai. Rogan josh is braised lamb cooked with onions, yogurt, ginger and Kashmiri chillies, which make the dish red. The waiter brought the chai first. Chai is made with seven spices, but it was mild and creamy as if made with condensed milk. The coconut soup was also based with milk, and with the almonds, raisins and pistachios, it reminded me of kheer (rice pudding). The entrees arrived in handy bowls and came with two clean plates and a plate of rice. We began eating from the bowls and decided that the food was spicy and more

like soup than what we had expected. The waiter approached us and asked whether we didn’t like rice, and whether we didn’t want to mix the entrees and rice together on the plates. This made more sense to us. Both dishes went well with the rice. Still, the curry was spicy, and the shrimp was a little overcooked. We preferred the rogan josh. We finished the coconut soup, deciding that it was delicious. I took some chai and offered the last of it to my friend, but the waiter came and took it away before we could finish. To our surprise, he returned with a full cup and set it down and walked away. We drank the second cup and waited around, wondering whether the chai would be infinitely refillable, but the waiter returned with a check. The check was on a tray of pastel-colored sprinkles, anise seeds, and pieces of sugar. I have seen this stuff at the counters of other Indian restaurants, but I never knew what it was or whether to eat it. We soon discovered that the sprinkles were actually sugar-coated seeds, and that the whole mixture was splendid. I later found out that it is called mukhwas and is meant to be eaten after a meal as a snack and a digestive aid. We dumped the remainder of it in our hands, and, after leaving our money on the table, we left. We carried on along Penn Avenue eating mukhwas, quite satisfied.

CHECK OUT TASTE OF INDIA 4320 PENN AVE, PITTSBURGH, PA 15224 412-681-7700 WWW.TASTEOFINDIAPITTSBURGH.COM

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AUTHOR: RIKKI LI PHOTOGRAPHER: TESSA SAMUELSON DESIGNER: ABBY SUTHERLAND

who Knew? (that we'd end up here)

suppose the ironic thing about this place is that I found it entirely by accident. It was too hot for a September weekend, swells of heat spinning off the roads like cicada trills, even though the only true sound in the immediate area was simply the occasional car driving past. The sky was cloudless but claustrophobic, like someone had pasted blue wallpaper over an old window to hide the fact that it was even there in the first place. The streets of Lawrenceville were similarly bare and quiet; unrepentant sunshine chased away even the most stubborn of shadows, collecting in the space left behind and glinting off the dirty cars parked haphazardly along the sidewalk. I originally came to Lawrenceville looking for the “Elements” store, which boasted vintage hand-me-downs and various other baubles that would promise a good story, at least according to the short blurb on the store’s outdated Yelp page. It was only after I passed the same, vacated building for the third time that I started to wonder if the store even existed. Either that, or it had closed down a long time ago. Frustrated and sweaty, I considered the merits of just waiting around for the next bus home, which wasn’t supposed to arrive

for another 45 minutes. None of the other surrounding buildings seemed welcoming enough for impromptu exploration—a small pizza place without customers, a tattoo parlor that looked as if it hadn’t been visited in ages, a boutique that had a handwritten “CLOSED” sign taped to the window. I stared at myself through the streaked glass of the vacated store and huffed at my own disheveled reflection with disinterest. Just as I was about to turn the corner on my third round of pacing up and down the same street, I saw a slip of paper taped to a door written in neat, curly handwriting. “Smile,” it said “you’re on camera.” I backed up a few steps, realizing that I had somehow missed this store the first time around. Colorful fluorescent lights flickered in the shop window, spelling out “Who New: Retro Mod Décor” in a style reminiscent of a classic ‘80s motel. Curious. I walked back up to the door, quirking a half smile for said invisible camera, and stepped into the shop. Inside, the store was spacious and pleasantly cool, built from geometric shapes and outstandingly full with miscellaneous items in a fashion that could perhaps be best described as “organized clutter.” It was almost overwhelming to transition from the bare, stagnant streets outside to this space that

somehow automatically exuded a sense of energy, like it was bursting at the seams with life and substance. Another sign was propped up on the end table right near the door. It read: “Notice: Unattended children will be given a double espresso and a free puppy.” A double espresso sounded fantastic, but even on the best of days I could no longer be considered a child. Damn. I walked further into the store, the oak-and-honey floorboards beneath my feet creaking merrily. Howie Day crooned softly through hidden speakers, a miasma of soft guitar and rhyming words and star collisions. “Hey there, can I help you?” a voice called from across the store. I looked up and saw a man standing behind the counter. This was Jeff (as I would learn later), owner of the Who New: Retro Mod Décor store. He had a jovial mustache and smiling eyes, and carried about him an air of good cheer. A man at ease in his own little workshop. I almost forgot to reply at first, still busy processing the interior of the shop, the quirky furniture and the bright colors and almost every derivative of a Heinz ketchup bottle one could ever imagine. That was definitely a ketchup pool floatie propped up against the far

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wall, I was sure of it. “I’m looking for a store called Elements?” I said at last. “Is that still around here?” Jeff shook his head. “Oh, the Elements store, that closed down in 2012.” He gave me a sympathetic smile, no doubt in response

knew that I hadn’t even explored a quarter of everything the shop had to offer. According to Jeff, Who New specialized in “design from the 50s, 60s, 70s, and 80s,” and attracted many industrial design students because of its diversity.

“Unattended children will be given a double espresso and a free puppy.” to the sudden slump of my shoulders when I realized I had essentially wasted a good hour looking for a place that no longer existed. “The owner, she closed down and moved to Phoenix, Arizona. Said she was doing it to be with the man she loved.” I couldn’t argue with that excuse. I probably would have done the same thing. “Well, I guess I ended up here instead.” I smiled weakly. “Who knew, right?” For my benefit, Jeff gave a chuckle. He’s a nice guy like that. Before Who New: Retro Mod Décor, Jeff had traveled the world as a professional clown. Then, twelve years ago, he decided to settle down in Lawrenceville to open this business with his mother, Nancy. “We were urban pioneers,” Jeff told me around a bite of red licorice. There was a plastic container of them on his desk, along with a mess of papers and several vintage telephones in the process of being cleaned and labeled for sale. “Lawrenceville was…less than attractive back then, mostly drunk people and prostitutes and so on,” he smiled ruefully. “But, in any case, we started as a little storefront down on 53rd street, and a local developer liked what we were doing, so he gave us a bigger space and a lot of support—you know, because he wanted to build this neighborhood up.” I hummed absently, noticing for the first time the decent sized clientele scattered throughout the store, perusing old records and antique china tea sets at their own paces. Compared to the other shops in the surrounding area, this place was teeming with popularity. “If you could pick one word to describe this place, what would it be?” I asked after a moment. There was barely even a pause in Jeff’s answer. “Eclectic,” he said. “We’ve got a little bit of everything here.” He was certainly not wrong. Even after I had walked around for a good two hours, I

Perhaps what I remember most about my visit, however, occurred about an hour into my slow trek around the store. I was flipping through a rack of sunflower patterned dresses and tank tops printed with Andy Warhol’s iconic Campbell’s soup cans when I heard someone come up from behind me. “You seem quite taken with our store,” the voice said. I turned around and came face to face with Jeff’s mother, Nancy. Her face looked like it was drawn with soft pen lines, and her greying hair was curled perfectly around her face. “Yeah, there’s just,” I gestured vaguely to the entirety of the store. “There’s just so much.” Nancy chuckled, a mild sound of amusement. “Yes, we get a lot of it from people looking to sell or donate their old things. There will be families who have people my age who’ve just recently died with a whole house full of things to give away.” She gave me a smile that was both tragic and proud, and I was abruptly aware of just how nostalgic working at this store must be for her, how each day she might look at the wares being brought in and suddenly remember bits and pieces of her

childhood, memories that she had forgotten about until they were pulled back to the surface by perhaps a worn bomber jacket or an old record player. Really, when it comes right down to it, the entire store is just a collection of memories, a museum of old knick-knacks waiting to be given a new home. Here at Who New: Retro Mod Décor, pieces of lives from all sorts of people are collected and given new purpose, cleaned and polished and marked with price tags, each handwritten with care. Here, it smells like history, like stories—like when you open up the cupboards at the end of a long life and let the dust clear from the pieces of you that were left behind. While I didn’t end up actually buying anything, I came out of the store feeling like I had taken a little part of it with me. I suddenly remembered my original purpose for coming to Lawrenceville and couldn’t help a short laugh of disbelief. Forgive me reader, but a store name like this one is almost begging to be used in a horrendous fashion—Who New I’d end up here? Life is funny like that sometimes, I suppose. You never know where it’s going to take you until it’s too late to turn back.

CURIOUS? CHECK OUT WHO NEW: RETRO MOD DECOR FOR YOURSELF AT 5156 BUTLER ST, OR VISIT THEIR FACEBOOK PAGE! OPEN 12:00 PM – 6:00 PM, WEDNESDAY THROUGH SATURDAY.

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A Neighborhood on the Rise Gentrification in Lawrenceville

awrenceville is a neighborhood that always had lots to offer and it is on the rise. The two-and-a-half square mile area is home to almost eleven thousand people, and that number is growing. Located only three miles from downtown and surrounded by the Allegheny River, the Strip District, and Bloomfield, it is situated between multiple aspects of Pittsburgh’s culture. There are tons of fun things to do in the neighborhood; there are many great places to shop and grab a bite to eat, as well as historical sites such as the Stephen Foster House and the Doughboy statue. The neighborhood has become gentrified in recent years, with more upscale housing being offered and more expensive shops opening up to cater to the new population. To understand Lawrenceville today, it is interesting to look back on its history.

WHAT'’ S IN A NAME? In 1814, William Foster founded Lawrenceville, naming it home to the Allegheny Arsenal due to its easy accessibility by the Allegheny River. Foster named Lawrenceville for Captain James Lawrence, a hero of the War of 1812 who uttered the famous words, “Don’t give up the ship!” William Foster’s son, Stephen, became a famous composer—you may recognize songs such as “Oh! Susanna,” “Camptown Races,” and “My Old Kentucky Home.” Visitors to the neighborhood can see his home at 3600 Penn Avenue. Stephen Foster is so important to the community that they host an annual festival in his name. The Stephen Foster Music and Heritage Festival (commonly known as “Doo Dah Days”) is held during the first week of July each year. In 1868, Lawrenceville was annexed to the city of Pittsburgh, and it thrived in the era of steel production. Middle-class families populated the neighborhood, building the classic row homes that survive till this day. But when the steel mills closed around the early 1980s, the neighborhood and its inhabitants were hit hard. Even as other neighborhoods latched onto new industries—such as health care and the sciences—Lawrenceville struggled to redefine itself in the changed economy. Butler Street, the main vein of the community, became known for its low-rent housing, unappealing storefronts, and illicit activity.

A CHANGING POPULATION The situation changed from the early 2000s on, when artists, musicians, and business professionals decided to make Lawrenceville their home. They revitalized Butler Street, opening galleries and boutiques to showcase their talents and promote up-and-coming artists. These small, independent shops and unique restaurants paired with the older well-known businesses to create a distinct charm. Lawrenceville’s reputation began to change for the better. Besides its developments in the arts and culture, the advancing medical and scientific world has also influenced Lawrenceville. Most notably, UPMC moved the Children’s Hospital to the neighborhood in 2009. The Robotics Institute of Carnegie Mellon University has also moved to the neighborhood. These new institutions have brought in doctors, scientists, and innovative thinkers who have shaped the community further. Censuses show that this growing population is also changing demographically. In addition to the rising number of young professionals and businesspeople, younger people are moving to the neighborhood. From 2000 to 2010, the average age in Lawrenceville dropped from 42 to 38 years old. The white population in Lawrenceville has dropped over 21%, while the number of family households has fallen nearly 17%. These may not seem like a huge change, but they indicate that the population is becoming more diverse.

HOUSING IN LAWRENCEVILLE Most of the gentrification in Lawrenceville has been commercially based, but it is clear that the housing market is beginning to feel the impact. The low-rent housing of past years was completely flipped on its head with the changing population of Lawrenceville. Housing prices have increased dramatically. In fact, “average home prices are appreciating by 9 percent a year, three times the Allegheny County average,” according to the South Side data company RealStats. As a result, many families who cannot afford the skyrocketing prices have been displaced.

AUTHOR: MADDY FISHER PHOTOGRAPHERS: JOE WILKS, GRACE EGGLESTON ILLUSTRATOR: JENNY LIU DESIGNER: AMI BALLO 65

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According to a study conducted by the University of Pittsburgh Center for Social and Urban Research, average sales prices of residential properties nearly tripled in Lower Lawrenceville. They have nearly doubled in Central Lawrenceville. This has resulted in a push to move to Upper Lawrenceville, where prices have remained relatively stable. Many new businesses have opened in this area of the neighborhood to accommodate its growing population. The changing population calls for new development in the area. This is challenging considering how many Lawrenceville citizens are longtime residents. Many of them are displeased with the influx of young “hipsters” in the area. In an interview with KDKA journalist Andy Sheehan, one resident is quoted saying: “Let all these high dollar people come in. I’ll take them with their purple hair and ink all over their bodies…they’re my neighbors, but the thing is I don’t want it to escalate.” Though some may not be pleased with the changing Lawrenceville, one must admit that its economy is booming and that it is becoming a destination for those who appreciate the arts and culture of our city.

A GO-TO DESTINATION It is difficult to pinpoint exactly why these sudden changes have come about, as there are so many factors at play. Stores that sat vacant for years are now overflowing with customers. Quiet streets are now filled with window shoppers and people seeking a good meal. It is as if the city has finally remembered the potential of this neighborhood, with its prime location and its beautiful parks. While some worry that Lawrenceville is losing a sense of its historical charm due to increasing nightlife, most would agree that the citizens have a desire to keep the neighborhood residence-based. Whether you like it or not, Pittsburgh’s biggest neighborhood is changing—and it is becoming one of the hippest places to live. With a vibrant past and a promising future, Lawrenceville is worth a visit.

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Two Girls, All the Pizza Two Adventurous Authors Take On Lawrenceville’'s Pizza Scene

“S

unday seems like a pizza day.” “Yeah… Like, you just want to lay on the couch all day and eat pizza.” So, we were in agreement. The Whip’s engine revved, and we were off. Cruising toward Lawrenceville in a silver Subaru Forester (we admit that “whip” may have been an over-exaggeration) while visions of sauce and cheese danced in our heads, we put our trust in UrbanSpoon and Google Maps to fill our empty stomachs. Like any city, Pittsburgh’s food culture is thriving. While current trends are leaning more toward the finer points of dining, certain things remain timeless. Pizza is one of them. We figured that it would be in our best interest (as well as yours, dear reader) to find the best pizza in Lawrenceville. First stop: Pesaro’s Pizza on Butler Street. Flashing neon lights ushered us in through the doorway of a small storefront under the Arsenal Lanes bowling alley. The atmosphere was bustling: employees coming and going with deliveries in hand, a man spinning fresh and powdery dough into crust, and another sliding prepared pizzas into the oven. A cooler to our left offered various two-liter beverages, while another to our right was stocked with cheesecake. Tempted as we were to grab a slice, we knew pizza was the priority, so we stepped up to the counter to order. Pesaro’s menu was chock full of specialty pizzas, with something for veggie and meat lovers alike. We perused the large menu and settled on their Specialty Pizza. The small pizza would be based with garlic sauce and topped with four cheeses: provolone, mozzarella, feta, and Romano. Tomatoes and grilled chicken topped the slices. We couldn’t wait to dig in, but we had time to kill, and a mission to complete. Here’s we became a pizzeria’s worst nightmare. Having ordered a personal pizza at Pesaro’s, we decided

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AUTHORS: ERIKA FLEEGLE AND MADDY FISHER PHOTOGRAPHER: ERIKA FLEEGLE DESIGNER: AMI BALLO

to scour the neighborhood for our next location with the twenty-minute wait time we were given. What started as a seemingly short trip down the block turned into a halfhour tour through narrow side streets, a cemetery, and past a gang of hipsters taking pictures of a cat covered in leaves. No, we’re not kidding. After parking and sprinting through construction (most likely breaking some sort of pedestrian traffic law), we came to the pleasantly-grafittied exterior of Spak Bros. Pizza. What we discovered was the polar opposite of Pesaro’s. While the cooler of soda off to the side remained the same, the atmosphere was more like a hipster arcade that just happened to be attached to a kitchen. Two pinball machines were stationed to the left, while the right side of the room was plastered with posters for local music and theater as well as a few handmade ransom notes. Because why not? Bonus points: Spak’s is right across the street from Mr. Roboto, a chill concert venue with an evergrowing, eclectic lineup. Below the artful chalkboard displaying the establishment’s name along with a sketch of pizzas and subs being sucked into space by a UFO, we gave our order to the tattooed lavender-haired cashier. As soon as we came, we left to pick up our order from Pesaro’s. On our way back to Pesaro’s, we devised a plan. We would pick up the order from Pesaro’s, then drive back to Spak’s and get that order, and devour our slices in the car. After all, we couldn’t be seen as pizza traitors. We carried our first pizza back to the car, but we had to take a peek first. Crumbles of romano cheese were crisped and melted on top of a crust adorned with sprinkles of garlic. Slices of fresh tomato peeked out from under the blanket of melted cheese, the smell of which mingled tantalizingly with the chicken topping. It looked so delicious we could hardly wait to take a bite, but we had to attend to our second order. So back to Spak’s we went, our mouths watering. Though we were several minutes late for our order, our slices were waiting, still warm in the massive ovens.

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We accepted our boxes from the men behind the counter and headed back out to the car. Sitting in the front seats of The Whip, we opened our boxes and dug in. Pesaro’s thick, doughy crust was bursting with flavor from the ripe tomatoes. The combination of cheese was a delightful touch. Spak’s had a crispier thick crust, topped with traditional mozzarella. The toppings did not disappoint and were fresh and delicious. Both stops seemed to take into account our personal pizza motto: cheese is bae. We’re of the Tom Haverford school of thought that, sometimes, you just need to treat yo’ self. And with the fall weather creeping in and the stress of midterms fading away, we decided to do just that. Our next stop on the Lawrenceville Tour de Pizza was Piccolo Forno on the corner of 38th and Butler. The warm, exposed brick exterior welcomed us in as the customers left over from the afternoon’s lunch rush slowly drifted out the door. Securing a spot by the window, we opened the small,

simple, craftwork menu and immediately saw our wildest dreams manifested in print: Quattro Formaggi pizza. Without hesitation, we placed our order. Minutes later, from the small wood-fired oven in the back of the restaurant, our meal emerged. We took our first bite and were left speechless, save for incoherent noises acknowledging the deliciousness of our slices. The thin, crispy crust was topped with four cheeses, as promised. Each one added to the overall effect: two milder, and two stronger in flavor. Mozzarella served as the base on this sauceless pizza, with melt-in-your-mouth ricotta dispersed on top. Crumbles of gorgonzola added a bite to the overall flavor. The fourth cheese was unfamiliar to us: crotonese. It had a taste that was difficult to describe, though we would say it was almost tangy and citrus-like. With a firmer texture than the other cheeses, it was a welcome surprise on an already filling pizza. Feeling full and satisfied after our delicious meal at Piccolo Forno, we knew we still had one final stop on our pizza tour. We

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headed for That’s Amore Pizza, located on Butler Street near 51st. The restaurant had a charming exterior, its name written in loopy, cursive letters in the colors of the Italian flag. Small green street lamps hung down to illuminate the sign. Neon lights advertised pizza and pasta inside. We walked through the doors and were immediately greeted with the tantalizing smell of fresh pizza. A colorful chalkboard on the left wall displayed the menu options. The board ran almost floor-to-ceiling and was packed with options, all written in an amazingly neat hand. We zeroed in on a broke college kid’s dream: a slice for two dollars. We ordered slices to suit our tastes - one with pineapple, the other with onion, tomato, and feta - and sat at the small table and two stools next to the window. As we waited a few customers came in and out, each appearing to know either another customer or one of the men behind the counter. The family-like vibe made the whole experience more personal. A short while later, we were called up to the counter to retrieve our pizza. What we were met with was a slice that ate like a meal. The crust appeared to be thin and crispy, with plentiful toppings scattered - nay, piled - on top of melted mozzarella. This was one situation where we preferred cutting into the slices with forks and knives as opposed to just diving in with our faces. As expected, That’s Amore was delicious. Perfect for lovers of thin crust and those who want something quick and inexpensive, our final stop was proven to be an essential one on our tour. With four amazing pizza options, how could we possibly pick our favorite? We would say to you, dear reader, that there were great things about each and every restaurant we visited in Lawrenceville. Pesaro’s and Piccolo Forno

made cheese a priority, which is always a plus. Spak’s and That’s Amore offered up great slices and friendly atmospheres. Piccolo Forno will be a little harder on the wallet, but trust us when we say that it is so worth it. Their artisan pizza left us at a loss for words. The combination of cheeses places it at the top of our list, though our other stops also had unique flavors to contribute. We would highly recommend checking out all of them, especially Spak Brothers--great pizza, great people, awesome art. Driving away from a great meal is always difficult, especially when you’re filled to the brim with pizza. As we ended our excursion, we felt we had accomplished our mission. Though our stomachs were full and our jeans unbuttoned - allowing for the miniature “food baby” to make its appearance - we eagerly looked forward to the time we could return to these places that left us hungry for more.

PESARO"S PIZZA: 4324 BUTLER STREET. HOURS: 11 AM TO 12 AM DAILY SPAK BROS. PIZZA: 5107 PENN AVENUE. HOURS: MONDAY - THURSDAY 11 AM TO 10 PM, FRIDAY 11 TO 11, SATURDAY NOON TO 11 PM, SUNDAY 3 PM TO 10 PM PICCOLO FORNO: 3801 BUTLER STREET. HOURS: CLOSED SUNDAY AND MONDAY, 11 AM – 10 PM TUESDAY THROUGH SATURDAY THAT"S AMORE: 5123 BUTLER STREET. HOURS: CLOSED SUNDAY, MONDAY- SATURDAY 11 AM TO 11 PM

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This Old House Lawrenceville’'s Hospitality Association Offers an Intimate Look into Local Homes AUTHOR: ERIKA FLEEGLE PHOTOGRAPHER: PHIL KAPPES DESIGNER: AMI BALLO

f I take after my parents in one way, it’s my love for looking at houses and learning what it takes to make them homes. I’ve watched my fair share of HGTV, and I’ve got fond memories of painting my own room, tearing wallpaper from the kitchen, helping my mom decorate for the holidays, and sitting by my dad as he poured his Saturday morning coffee into a “This Old House” coffee mug: Measure twice, cut once, with royal blue paint popping off the white ceramic surface. Good advice for any renovator. That being said, I’ve always had dreams of owning, renovating, and decorating a place of my own. As a college student, it’s not entirely possible at the moment. Until that moment comes, I’ll settle for attending Lawrenceville’s annual Hospitality House Tour and checking out what the charming neighborhood has to offer. On a blustery, chilly Sunday morning, the Lawrenceville Hospitality Association and a group of eight homeowners opened their doors to the public. My photographer Phil and I were met by the association’s president and vice president - Kate Bayer and Sandy DeTemple - at the entrance to Allegheny Cemetery, where the tour began. Both women, bundled up against the chill in the air, began to explain the origins of the tour. What started as a small tour in the late 1990s to garner donations for community events has now evolved into a tour covering the neighborhood’s 6th, 9th, and 10th Wards. The number of visitors has grown steadily throughout the years. “Lawrenceville’s one of the oldest, friendliest neighborhoods,” DeTemple said. “There’s such an eclectic mix of people and properties. It really shows the diversity of the people and the diversity of the community.” As the morning gave way to afternoon, we found all the aforementioned diversity, hospitality, and warmth and then some. Our first stop was on Hatfield Street below Butler. This was the residence of Paul and Haley Wulff, a charming young couple with an equally charming home. As soon as the door opened, the Wulff’s dog, a tiny sort of terrier, greeted us and several other visitors, only to be immediately scooped up into

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“Sometimes the biggest things come in the smallest packages.” Haley’s arms. While this house is an exact replica of the fourteen other homes in the Hatfield Street complex, Paul had taken his own liberties with the house’s interior. “We knocked out a couple of walls and vaulted the ceilings,” he noted. The home has all the right elements for a young couple – a cozy bedroom and bathroom, spacious closets, living space accented with bright, colorful, imported paintings, and a stunning kitchen. “We love the kitchen and the outdoor space,” Paul said, standing in the middle of the space, surrounded by rich, dark cabinetry and an artful tile backsplash, massive woven lighting fixtures hanging overhead. “We needed the yard space. It’s great for entertaining.” With any house, I feel like there’s always an interesting story or memory hiding in the walls and floorboards. This is literally the case for the Wulffs. “I had a Ukrainian friend whose mother came to bless the house,” Haley recalled. “She sprinkled holy water and loose change all over while construction work was going on. The change has to stay in the house, but we couldn’t keep it on the floor with the work going on. We decided to put it in the walls! It’s still in the insulation!” Our next stop on the tour brought us to 45th Street, at the residence of Joanne and Vasili Scoulos-Sofillas. Upon entering, we were surrounded by exposed brick, elegant chandeliers, and heavy Greek

influence. The walls were covered in ceramics, photographs, and other elements, like handcrafted crosses, from the Mediterranean. Though the house, originally built in the 1890s, has a narrow foundation, the inside of the house certainly betrays it, packing expansive rooms into the space. Original hardwood floors and trim complemented the rich, warm atmosphere. The couple, originally from Mt. Lebanon, purchased the house with an original intent to renovate and sell. “It used to be a crack house,” Joanne said. “It was in really bad shape.” After a two-year flipping process, the pair couldn’t imagine themselves living anywhere else – and for good reason. Vasili is a contractor who specializes in kitchens, so everything was made to Joanne’s liking to accommodate her love of Greek cooking. Among the extensive cabinetry, a visitor will find hidden spice racks, a granite-topped wet bar, and a pull-out ironing board (I’m still wondering how I can fit this into my own kitchen). To exit the kitchen, we passed through a sheer screen, common in many Greek homes, and met Vasili in the backyard. Where the Wulffs had a lap dog, this family had a horse. Not a real horse, mind you, but a life-size sculpture covered in paintings of the Greek island they called home. “It was a gift,” Vasili mentioned as he served up portions of hot-off-the-grill seasoned pork onto paper plates for all of us visitors. With such gracious hospitality and delicious food, I was left with only one question – when could I move in? The third house belonged to another young couple – Beth and Ameet Karambelkar. Together with a contractor and a designer, they transformed this late 19th century home into something they could truly call their own. Aside from a spacious master bedroom, quaint

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office, and a hidden bar in the dining room, this house boasts a third floor, which played host to a live band for the day. While designing their home, the Karambelkars wanted to keep as much of the original character as possible. While some features, like the doorframes, were kept together and shifted from one place to another, everything else – the original hardwood, trim, and a live-gas fireplace – stayed put. Their designers were flexible and attentive, giving them all the modern amenities they desired. When asked why they chose Lawrenceville, the answer was simple. Ameet, an internist, was coming back to Pittsburgh for two years of training and fellowship, and the couple needed a place to stay. After living in the Bronx for a while, they found the area to be much more friendly and manageable; everything they needed was within reach. “The people are just kind,” Beth adds, sharing a glance with her husband. But for the couple, the best moment was bringing home their new baby. “It made the house a home,” Ameet says, a smile spreading across his face. “You won’t find Pier One here,” muses our next homeowner, Hal Medrano, as we cross the threshold of his traditional home on Fisk Street. The decor here is a vibrant mix of Cuban and Vietnamese, both representative of the nationalities of him and his wife. Striking wall colors and handmade art pieces complement the traditional masks and Vietnamese wall hangings throughout the main living space. A wide hallway, a major component of the renovation process, carries straight through the house, into the kitchen, and out into the refurbished backyard, complete with flower beds and herb gardens. The inside of the house served as somewhat of a challenge to the homeowners. Since it had suffered a mid-century remodel, restoring it to the original Victorian style was going to be out of the question. Instead, they sided with a more modern style with a nod to tradition, choosing to maintain the natural wood floors, trim, and two staircases. I asked Hal about his favorite space in the house and was pleasantly surprised by his answer: “It has to be the bathroom. I think I have the best bathroom in the neighborhood.” Naturally, we had to investigate. After ascending one side of the dual staircase and passing an ornate Vietnamese shrine at the top of the landing, we understood why Hal was so proud of the bathroom - what had been his first foray into home renovation had turned into something worthy of a magazine cover. We were surrounded by exposed brick (a recurring theme of many homes), our feet treading on tiny, white, hexagonal tiles. A white enamel claw-foot bathtub lay to the left of the sink, while to our right stood a massive walk-in, door-less shower larger than the average college dorm. Phil hurriedly snapped a few photos as I struggled to pick my jaw up off the floor, and we moved on to our next location. Sometimes the biggest things come in the smallest packages. That’s the case with Natalie Coccia’s home on Eden Way. After moving to the area in 2007 and falling in love with Lawrenceville’s 10th Ward, the young marketing director decided to set her sights on making it into the Hospitality Association’s yearly tour. The former row home for millworkers became her first home in July of 2013. Natalie’s style is colorfully eclectic. As soon as we step in, a bright yellow and purple piece of graffiti art, commissioned by a local artist, jumps off the cool gray wall, proclaiming “Home Sweet Home” to all who enter. Dark shelving and cabinetry hold all manner

of quirky knick-knacks, from tiny potted plants to antlers in bell jars. Form complements function. This theme continues into the loft-style upstairs, where dark gray walls envelop a cozy, yellow and gray toned bedroom and office. For Natalie, the best part of the house is the kitchen and backyard. In the past year, she’s renovated both spaces on her own. The backyard, just big enough for a small gathering of friends, is complete with simple, modern furniture and a space heater, perfect as the weather gets cooler. “It’s nice to entertain and relax,” she says about the space as a whole. “I’ve got plenty of fond memories already.” If the previous owner made use of the small space she had to work with, the next homeowners we encountered did so as well, but perhaps on a more interesting scale. Since expanding their family in 2008, owners Heather and Dror decided they needed to add a little more space and functionality to their home. While some would call in a contractor to add an addition that blends seamlessly with the rest of the home, this couple decided to do things a little differently. They brought in a shipping container. Elevated a few feet off the ground and attached to the house by an enclosed glass and steel “spine”, the burnt orange shipping container is a welcome surprise among the otherwise neutral buildings surrounding the home. We entered through the “spine” and felt an immediate sense of openness. The shipping container contained a family room, play room, and outdoor porch, all brightly decorated in shades of orange and warm gray. The back doors of the container are fully functional, opening out onto the extended porch, which made use of the container’s original floor. The rest of the space that we were able to see was fashioned in much the same way, accented with bold black shelving, exposed brick, and metallic elements. “It’s like Pittsburgh in a house,” Heather joked, referencing the inclusion of brick, glass, steel, and aluminum in the architecture. Though the homeowners and their young son (along with two precious cats) have made the shipping container feel like such a natural addition to their home, the construction was only finished recently. A time-lapse video of the construction was on loop in the living room. Heather and Dror, who had originally lived in an old bowling pin factory in Mount Washington, have enjoyed living in nontraditional spaces. They came to the East End eight years ago and purchased the original housing structure, keeping their eyes on the neighboring property. After a long wait, the couple finally acquired the property next door, and planning for the container’s arrival began. “We were really unsure about it at first,” Heather said. “But there was a moment when our contractors and engineers tapped the foundation to put in support for the container and they all high-fived each other. That’s when we got excited. When the container opened and dropped, that’s when it became real.” On the end of what was once a derelict group of homes on Foster Street, our next house stood, visitors drifting in and out. The house’s current resident, Colleen, decided to build on prior renovations and add her own stylistic flair. Many of the original elements of the house – the wood floors, fireplace mantels, and brick walls – were kept intact. Decorating, for Colleen, was what helped to make the house a home. Each room has a plethora of fun elements – jewel-toned

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empty photo frames, Lucite chairs, gilded mirrors, and metallic lighting fixtures – so that the eye can’t help but be entertained. A fan of DIY and thrifting, she scoured local flea markets and roadsides for vintage items. When the inspiration struck, she even created some of her own, like a chandelier made out of a socket splinter. In terms of structure, each room flows easily and seamlessly into the next, tied together by pops of bright color. This house also features a third floor, where a cozy lounge and study have been set up. When I asked Colleen why she chose Lawrenceville as a place to settle down, she had only one reply: “It’s awesome!” And after everything we had seen so far, we certainly agreed.

return. The pineapple served as an invitation for neighbors and friends to share in the spoils of the voyage. As time went on, innkeepers added the pineapple throughout their establishments, painting it on signs or carving it into bedposts as a sign of their hospitality. If this legend is true, it’s certainly alive and well in Lawrenceville.

The final house we approached was one of the oldest in the neighborhood. Built approximately 154 years ago, this home had been gutted and transformed to fit the current owner, Susan Faigen. Some original parts were kept, like the fireplace mantel and a pair of staircases, but the kitchen was created with all of Faigen’s desires in mind. Period music from a flute and accordion duo filled the tranquil living room and floated throughout the home. We wound our way through the richly decorated dining room with its expansive china cabinet and found ourselves in the kitchen, where we spoke with Susan’s mother. “I love this kitchen,” she said. “My daughter wanted an amazing kitchen. She loves spending time in here.” And it wasn’t hard to see why: the room was warmly lit and lined with wooden cabinetry. A large island, on which was an extensive array of snacks, stood in the middle – the perfect place to prepare, serve, and entertain. The rest of the house kept with the simple, elegant style of décor. This was one of the few spaces we saw that featured carpeting rather than hardwood flooring, but it only served to add to the comfort level of the space. The upstairs consisted of a seating area and a sunken bedroom – an unusual but welcome change in architecture. We braced ourselves against the chill in the air as we left the home, thankful for all the hospitality we had received that day. As we made our way back to Butler Street in search of a cup of coffee, I realized a trend in all the houses we’d seen that day: each home featured on the tour had, on its doorstep, a brightly-painted, houseshaped, wooden placard and a pineapple poised in a terracotta pot. The symbolism of the pineapple, like my love for houses and the love that goes into making them homes, was another thing I learned from my parents. Legend has it, in the early Colonial times, sea captains of New England would return from their travels along the Caribbean with exotic fruits, spices, and rum. When a journey came to an end, a captain would spear a pineapple on the fence outside his home as a symbol of his safe

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THE ROW HOUSE cinema STYLE VERSUS SUBSTANCE

AUTHOR: THEODORE MCCAULEY PHOTOGRAPHER: RYAN DORAN DESIGNER: ABBY SUTHERLAND

n July 2013 a nine-inch chef’s knife shoots through a plaster wall in the break room of an IBM office building. The knife retracts and then reenters the room a centimeter to the left of the other hole. The excavation continues without any explanation for fifteen minutes, tracing out a rectangle resembling a child’s “connect the dots” puzzle the girth of a very thin man. The plaster is violently removed from its station and lands with a thud in the middle of the break room. The scene is still for a moment and then, just as suddenly as the chef’s knife that was his predecessor, a lanky man with a thick dark beard shoots his head and torso through the make shift entrance he had just crafted. This particular IBM building had the grand misfortune of choosing real-estate adjacent to the Manor Theatre. The bearded man is named Geoff Sanderson, who at the time was General Manager of the Theatre. He had been following a tip from a few of his employees who believed there was ‘either a ghost or a homeless man living inside this secret room of the projection booth’. Geoff had been recounting some of the outlandish things that would unfold at the Manor while drinking with friends when, through the grapevine, he caught the ear of Brian Mendelssohn. Shortly after, Brian approached Geoff with the vision to open a new movie theatre in homage to Lawrenceville’s lost Arsenal Theatre. Thus the Row House Cinema was underway. A little less than a year after Brian approached Geoff; the Row House Cinema officially opened its doors with an inaugural showing of Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction.

The Row House is located at 4115 Butler Street in Lawrenceville. It is not a traditional movie theatre in the sense that it does not routinely show new movies. “We have two rules.” Geoff said the day the theatre doors opened. “The most important one is that nothing is too high brow and nothing is too low brow. The second and slightly less pressing rule is that we don’t show any movies younger than two years old.” This type of theatre is referred to in the business as a “repertory theatre”, a cinema that repeats older films rather than embracing newer releases. But high expectations were met with sad disappointment. As a repertory movie theatre, the Row House’s biggest obstacle wasn’t finding great movies from the last century (there are literally hundreds), but rather finding people who wanted to come see them. “We have a huge social media presence and a great website, but right now it’s not going to be enough to bring a consistent clientele through the door.” Geoff said three weeks after the opening. The staff attempted to counteract this roadblock by hanging posters in coffee shops and graffitiing bus benches and telephone poles with trademark Row House Cinema stickers. Geoff and the owner had also been scheduling and participating in countless interviews with magazines and newspapers emphasizing just how unique the project was. However, the efforts just weren’t producing results. “I had been working close to 100 hour weeks,” says Geoff, “it was absolutely exhausting.” The Row House was spawned by a sincere love of cinema and the romantic ideals of being able to share the best of the best as stylishly as possible, but this pressure to be unique

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VISIT THE ROW HOUSE AT 4115 BUTLER ST. SCREENING SCHEDULE CAN BE FOUND ON WWW.ROWHOUSECINEMA.COM

proved to be overly daunting. Geoff elaborates, “A lot of the… higher ups were more concerned with promoting us as being cool or different than they were with showing people great movies. Or at least that’s the way it felt most of the time. Eventually a lot of us really dreaded going to the Row House because it meant another day that we didn’t live up to the owner’s expectations.” Originally the theatre needed to sell twelve tickets per show at four shows a day to be profitable (this has now changed after the failure to regularly meet the original goal), but the novel idea of a repertory theatre does not compete with other theatres the way a traditional film house would. As a result enticing a steady crowd became increasingly difficult. The Row House must compete with online competitors such as Netflix or Hulu that prove to be infinitely more convenient even if they are “not as cool”. “Sometimes if I’m at home, and I see the theatre’s Facebook page post about an upcoming film series, I’ll watch some of the movies on my laptop before going into work.” said Jeff Mara, one of the ex-concession workers at the Row House. “Then it occurs to me that everyone could do that and just not go there.” After a hugely successful first month, in which the Row House hosted Dan Savage’s HUMP Tour and the Mash comedy troupe by Brooklyn Brewery, the theatre felt a crushing blow when nearly the entire theatre staff filed

a mass exodus in a single Sunday. In the last four months the Row House has accumulated a handful of adamantly loyal regulars that might prove sufficient to keep the theatre doors open. Still the reported ticket sales and shaky staffing have pointed towards rocky waters approaching for the theatre, and it seems that the uniqueness of design that initially made the Row House so attractive may now be its undoing.

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the QUEEN of CRAFTS and her wildcard

ildcard is a love song. It sings to the creative, the quirky, the “I can’t find a gift for [insert friend’s name here],” and anyone who has ever needed a spoon and a fork shaped like carrots. From its neon green-trimmed storefront with shocking pink calligraphic lettering, it might seem that the craft shop would only attract a certain buyer who fancies whimsy and owl pencil cases. Yet somehow, Wildcard manages to translate one-of-a-kind into a kind for everyone. From succulents to salt and pepper shakers, petal earrings to tokens of Pittsburgh pride, no one has reason to leave Wildcard empty-handed. Sitting on Butler Street in the heart of Lawrenceville, Wildcard invites you into a world of color, a world filled, most notably, with things. Cacti pins. Cat bag clips. Terrariums. Stationary. Dinosaur finger puppets. Bowls with the Pittsburghese word “yinz” printed inside. Disney may have preemptively capitalized upon the phrase “where dreams come true,” but it seems fitting for a place like Wildcard where almost anything I could dream up seems to have already been fabricated into a handmade good. The brainchild of Rebecca Morris, Wildcard opened in October 2009 and has been brimming with originality ever since. Morris was once a Pitt political science major, and she laughs understandably at this unexpected revelation, before gushing about the magic of craft fairs. After gaining vital merchandising experience in the retail craft universe as a shop assistant in Chicago, Morris set out to create a permanent year-round craft fair right here in Pittsburgh. She succeeded in the form of Wildcard, amassing over 300 local and national vendors under one roof. Yet it still begs the question: why a brickand-mortar shop? Why not just Etsy? In response, Morris waxes poetic about the

delight of being able to touch things, to soak it all up in the flesh. Wildcard is not merely selling cute gifts; it is offering an experience, an intimate interaction with the community. I run my hands over the screen-printed “I love Pittsburgh” t-shirt, the words emblazoned on a graphic typewriter. I weigh the so-called “Kreepy Dolls” in my hand, pausing over one lovingly named Pancho. I turn a cork bracelet over so I can feel the grooves, and I think I know what Morris means. In spite of its eclecticism, Wildcard is far from an island. In fact, its diversity is perhaps founded upon the symbiotic relationship it has built with the surrounding community. Around two-thirds of the items found inside are spawned by local Pittsburgh artists, some of whom have even hosted trunk shows in the shop. We live in a world of tags apathetically informing us that most of the items we purchase are transplants from a foreign factory. Wildcard dissolves the distance and reminds us there is a pulse in everything made. From the first steps inside, it is obvious that Wildcard is a work of passion. This is why it doesn’t surprise me when Rebecca Morris confesses that she always loved crafts while growing up – all sorts. She speaks fondly of cross-stitching with her grandmother, which provides a segue into conversation about Knit the Bridge, the fiber-arts installation that swallowed the Andy Warhol Bridge in colorful yarn during the summer of 2013. Often knitters would congregate in Wildcard’s crafting section at the rear of the shop, needles weaving in solidarity. More than a store, Wildcard is a home for crafters around the city and beyond. It is a place where people ask “why not?” Walking around the shop, it is easy to get lost in puns and prints. “I want to go bankrupt in here!” I say to Morris. This is the language used by a shopaholic, such as myself, to convey admiration. I am on a self-imposed shopping

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hiatus; the first step is admitting that you have a problem. But in the throes of Wildcard, where almost everything is less than $50, I am quickly persuaded otherwise, and I admit defeat at the cash register. After all, every girl needs a pair of ceramic shark earrings. It takes all the strength in my bones to walk away from an art print that says, “Hang in there, dumbass,” featuring a cat clinging to a tree branch encouragingly. All at once, Wildcard melds the genuine with the tongue-in-cheek. An exposed brick wall flanks the shop, lined with rows upon rows of greeting cards. It’s hard not to feel at home in a place where every single item has such an evident touch of personality that it’s almost as if the artist were baring his or her polkadotted soul right in front of you. A decapitated skeleton stands apologetically on a card that reads, “Sorry I lost my head.” Rifling through a small book entitled Kids are Weird, I find wry observations from parenthood in the form of comics. Humorous with a hint of exasperation, the pages are still clearly bound with love. Meanwhile, Matthew Buchholz’s Alternate Histories of the World features ancient maps interspersed with UFOs and the Mona Lisa as a robot. Another card jokes, “Happy birthday. You’re looking well preserved.” Straddling this tightrope between sincerity and whimsicality makes Wildcard what it is. When I ask Rebecca Morris to divulge her favorite form of craft, she thinks for a moment before exclaiming “embroidery!” with a smile. It appeals to her because of the inherent fun of transforming a drawing into a tapestry, an artistic metamorphosis effected by thread. Wildcard found its roots in a similar fashion. In the same way that sketch becomes textile, idea becomes reality, and a shop becomes an entity. Thus, Wildcard was born, and so it thrives in Lawrenceville, the heartbeats of myriad artists pulsating inside, giving it life.

HAVING RECENTLY CELEBRATED ITS FIFTH ANNIVERSARY IN OCTOBER, WILDCARD IS ON THE FAST TRACK TO BECOMING A MAIN STAY IN LAWRENCEVILLE. STOP BY 4209 BUTLER STREET AND SEE WHAT THE STORE HAS TO OFFER. WILDCARD IS OPEN EVERY DAY, STARTING AT 11 AM.

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AUTHOR: KAYLEN SANDERS PHOTOGRAPHER: PHIL KAPPES DESIGNER: MICHAEL KNARR

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rsenal Park is, upon first glance, underwhelming. As a park, it seems small and unimpressive, even filthy. To be fair, this judgment isn’t rendered without bias. Having grown up in the rural countryside, I consider myself a connoisseur of parks, understanding the implications that such a title carries are both incredibly pretentious and, more importantly, very lame. Until college, I had very little to occupy my free time that didn’t involve nature. As harsh as my initial appraisal of the park was though, I quickly found out that even an expert is only right nine times out of ten. For context of the name, Arsenal Park exists upon the site of the former Allegheny Arsenal. The Arsenal, built in 1814, was utilized for manufacture and storage of supplies, mainly ammunitions. Consequently, the Arsenal became a military garrison for troops during multiple wars, including the Indian, Spanish-American, and most notably, the Civil. During the Civil War, on the day of the Battle of Antietam – the battle that you learned about in high school but promptly forgot about until this sentence – the Allegheny Arsenal exploded. Recollections of the war (and history textbooks) have neglected this event, one caused by “shitty management,” of supplies, as I was told by a local. Years of gunpowder collecting in cobblestone streets created a fuse that, once lit, ended the lives of 79 civilians, mostly women and children. After the third and final explosion on September 17, 1862, Allegheny Arsenal had become the site of the largest civilian casualty disaster during the Civil War. Although tragedy struck the nine-acre area so long ago, there remains a strange, albeit vague sense that it never fully recovered. An aging powder magazine is the last remaining fixture of the arsenal itself, a building that bore few plaques for remembrance of the event or the lives lost. Discovering that the very same powder magazine has been reduced to a storage shed is only salt rubbed in the wound of the area’s rich history. It seems that casualties in the name of battle are remembered with a greater fondness than those caused by an accidental wartime disaster that charred more than half of the bodies beyond identification. This is the nature of the world. An empty fifth of Vladimir on a park bench was my greeting upon entry, and it was in that moment that I began to judge Arsenal Park. I had difficulty seeing past the overturned garbage cans and broken sections of chain-link fence peppered throughout the grounds. Cement overshadowed shrubbery, causing most of whatever green there was to feel like weeds rather than plants. Compared to the ones back home, this park was no better than the trash liberally littered across its acreage. In the interest of fairness, the mid-afternoon of a Steelers Sunday may not have been the most opportune time to see heavy traffic of the park. There were only a few people at first, mostly kids. One little boy reminded me of the hopelessness of my bank account by asking me if I had a dollar. I did not. Later, I heard him ask another woman if she had 50 cents. Apparently, I looked like the higher roller. I lamented to my photographer. After discovering that the park I had so looked forward to seeing was in my eyes

incredibly disappointing, I was eager to leave Lawrenceville altogether. Soon after I verbalized these feelings, however, a family materialized near the swingset. The father talked on his cell phone while the mother pushed a little girl back and forth, encouraging her to smile the entire time. When the man hung up his call and got down on hands and knees to play with his daughter, we moved in to capture the moment. As I told the woman some of my thoughts about Arsenal Park, she looked at me blankly, then said, “Well, I guess you can tell that it’s a park within a city.” Suddenly, my whole perspective changed. Arsenal Park was no longer an overgrown plot inside a cityscape, it was a lush escape from the confines of the Steel City. Once I adjusted to the idea that a park in Pittsburgh needed different consideration than a park in the countryside, I began to enjoy myself. Other people soon appeared. A tennis match ensued between two gentlemen who needed no audience to induce animalistic ferocity in their play. A biker rode laps around the park, traversing the slight incline that the paths offered with no perceivable difficulty. An endearing couple sprawled out on the baseball field – the same space that the arsenal itself used to occupy – and watched clouds pass across the hazy sky above. A man catching up on casual reading was undisturbed by a woman using a shopping cart-like cage to showcase her dogs directly in front of him. I smiled. It might not have been like home, but it was a decent substitute. There is an undeniable sense that Arsenal Park has fallen into a state of neglect. The amount of time that the area has been this way is unknown, but the blame should not fall, as I initially placed it, upon the park but rather those denizens who do not respect it. Those who value the grounds – like those observed that Sunday – understand the true beauty of a park. By utilizing the area for whatever purpose they may have, they consequently make it their own individualized destination. For the swarms of kids, it becomes a social call outfitted with slides and monkeybars. For the couple cuddling on the baseball field, it becomes a spot to create romantic memories with the person who loves you. And for the families on the swingset, it is a way for parents to bond with sons and daughters in an environment that, considering its beginnings, ironically manages to stave off the industrial grasp of Pittsburgh. Despite a rough history and its current disheveled state, Arsenal Park has an allure that perseveres through its blemishes, that is, so long as we continue to afford it the opportunity to win us over.

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An Unlikely Charm despite a rocky past and an uncertain future, lawrenceville's arsenal park soldiers on

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Suddenly, my whole perspective changed. Arsenal Park was no longer an overgrown plot inside a cityscape, it was a lush escape from the confines of the Steel City.

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For context of the name, Arsenal Park exists upon the site of the former Allegheny Arsenal.

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During the Civil War, on the day of the Battle of Antietam â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the battle that you learned about in high school but promptly forgot about until this sentence â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the Allegheny Arsenal exploded. 85

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As I told the woman some of my thoughts about Arsenal Park, she looked at me blankly, then said, “Well, I guess you can tell that it’s a park within a city.” 86

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theoriginalmagazine.com

AUTHOR: MICHAEL KNARR PHOTOGRAPHER: RYAN DORAN DESIGNER: MICHAEL KNARR

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AUTHOR: KENNETH WARD DESIGNER: AMI BALLO

ichelle Larkin is in her kitchen staring at sixty pounds of ginger root. Sixty pounds of odd-looking, asymmetric lumps fill a mini-fridge sized box sitting on her table. She knows she better get to work. One by one, Michelle lowers ginger roots into a juicer, turning the rough, dry plants into pulpy beige liquids. The tedium of work is broken up by the arrival of the twins in the kitchen. Lindsey and Maxwell, 5, are initially eager to help Mom in any way they can. Together they pour the finished ginger juice into gallon-sized buckets as Michelle continues to work the juicer. A splash of pulpy ginger juice to the face grosses out the twins, and Mommy’s little helpers promptly bail on the ginger juicing project. Seeing his siblings rush out of the kitchen, Alex, 10, figures his Mom could probably use his help. He’d rather be playing Minecraft with his friends, but he knows the help is appreciated. Michelle brings buckets of the freshly juiced ginger down two flights of stairs to the family basement. She navigates a maze of four-foot tall steel tanks to find her husband Bill working in the lab. He raises an inch-wide tube to his eye and swirls it around, knowing now that one of his batches is ready. His workstation is part science lab, part Home Depot. The sheer number of steel tanks and glass flasks are enough to make a University scientist blush, but his tool rack and table feel practical and look like things you could build by yourself. Michelle places the buckets on a clear spot on Bill’s table, and asks which tank is Grierson’s Ginger Cider. Bill has to check his charts; with over twenty tanks brewing all varieties of hard apple ciders and fruitwines it’s hard to say for sure which tank is which, and you don’t want to ruin a batch by pouring ginger juice into the wrong one. Michelle brings the empty buckets up a flight of stairs to the first floor. She passes a door labeled “Restroom,” six empty tables, a cash-register, and a ten-tap bar. This used to be my living room, she thought. Where Michelle once happily crashed on the couch, she now

happily serves customers. Where Bill once played billiards and threw darts, he now plays scientist in the winery. For the Larkin family, home and work have become one in the same. 300 39th Street is not just home; it’s also the Arsenal Cider House. Nine years ago Michelle was a preschool teacher, Bill was an accountant, Alex had just been born, and 300 39th Street was just a four-story duplex home. Bill was excellent with numbers, but he always had too much energy for a desk job. Any man who can jump out of a plane over 700 times just isn’t meant for that kind of work. Through a åUniversity chemist he met through skydiving, Bill took an interest in the under-the-microscope science of fermentation and creating alcohol. He figured out what he needed to start brewing his own hard apple cider and humbly started with a single stainless steel tank on the pool table in his basement. Bill’s experience with crunching numbers translated smoothly into creating excellent hard apple cider. Soon he was able to handle two brews at once, and then three and then four; and so on until the entire basement was covered in dozens of stainless steel tanks full of hard apple cider and fruitwines. As Bill increasingly found his work recognized and awarded by critics in the cider and winery community, Michelle found herself in the middle of a turbulent year. In 2004, Michelle was laid off after the daycare she worked at shut down; she found work teaching at another school, but the illusion of job security was shattered. As if the Larkin family of three heading into the recession of 2008 wasn’t scary enough, Michelle became pregnant with twins towards the end of 2007. Having already lost one teaching job and skeptical about how long she could keep her new job, Michelle started considering alternatives. She knew people were asking if they could buy Bill’s hard cider for their friends and family, and as much as she hated the idea, she began to think about what it

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would take get into the business of selling hard cider. Throughout the year friends and family told Michelle that she was crazy for even thinking about leaving her job in the middle of an economic recession, but Bill was behind the idea 110%. Michelle knew that he really believed in this, and that there was no stopping her husband when he believed in something. She let Bill explain the ins and outs of Pennsylvania State’s liquor laws, which included a clause that forbids the manager of a liquor store to have a secondary W2 source of income. This meant that Michelle, as the manager, would have to quit teaching and work from home. A mother working at home selling hard cider and spending time with her newborn twins? Michelle found the prospect surprisingly ideal. Lindsey and Maxwell would grow up in play pins around the cider house and winery. In the basement the twins would play with spoons and buckets of water, thinking they were helping Mom and Dad make wine. From their play pin they would wave to customers as Michelle watched on from the bar. They were the certainly the only second-graders with “winery” in their vocabulary. Once, Lindsey’s class was being taught about how Jesus turned water into wine, her face lit up and she raised her hand. “Mommy and Daddy must love Jesus a lot then, because they make wine all the time!” Michelle stands behind the oak-barrel bar of the Arsenal Cider House, attentive and helpful in a uniquely motherly way. Her friendly eyes and wide smiles greet customers new and old alike, and her shoulder-length auburn-brunette hair receives the occasional compliment as customers enter the store. An unhappy customer is hard to imagine as Michelle has a way of warming your spirit no matter what kind of day you’ve had, or whatever weather Pittsburgh had in store for you. Some will wait out in the rain and snow for Michelle to step outside and leave the “We’re Open” sign on the sidewalk, and hundreds more will walk up and over Lawrenceville’s hills to refill their growlers with the new flavors of the week. A single hour of business on a Saturday night brings in over sixty customers into the Arsenal Cider House. The line never goes quite out the door, but it gets close enough to the door that walking into the cider house requires a bit of caution. A young couple approach the door, passing by the antique wooden keg and spigot and wagon wheel that sit outside, and open the door slowly, allowing the customers inside to make room for them. Were it not so busy tonight, they may have wondered if they were walking through the right door; it wouldn’t have been the first time that people were afraid of walking into somebody’s home instead of the cider house by mistake. Behind the bar, Michelle handles the Saturday rush hour efficiently while staying positive and charming. She has a little help tonight from Ashley, a part-time employee and University student. In the middle of rush hour, Michelle and Ashley swap places at the cash register and cider taps like racers passing a baton; the transition is smooth, fast, and no customers are left waiting. Somehow, no matter how many customers are served, the shop never seems to get less crowded. With full bellies and light spirits, a table of six leaves and another eight grab their growlers to take their place. Among these eight is a single infant who slept through the modestly loud chatter of customers until his carrier was lifted and put on the table.

Three men in Pittsburgh Penguin jerseys joke about the baby, “Now there’s a young drinker!” Perhaps the hour’s most interesting customer though, was a single man in his fifties with a cooler. When it was his turn in line, he popped the cooler open to reveal eight growlers. He ordered two Powder Monkey peach fruitwines, two Oliver’s Oaked with Vanilla Bourbon, two Fighting Ellecks, and finally, two Archibald’s Ado Amber. “He picks up eight, what, every two or three weeks, Ashley? His son’s away at college, both of his sons are in college, but this one is out of state and comes home every three weeks, and he loves our hard cider – so that’s their thing. They call up all the family, get together and drink cider. It’s pretty awesome. And he always picks up something fruity for his wife.” For Michelle, being a part of a family tradition is a big deal – it’s not just that it’s good for business, there’s this sense of accomplishment in creating something that’s important to a family. Lauren has been a loyal customer of the Arsenal Cider House for two years. Today she’s sitting in the back with four other women, sipping on glasses of cider and fruit wine. They brought along pita chips, celery sticks, baby carrots,

Michelle has a way of warming your spirit no matter what kind of day you’ve had, or whatever weather Pittsburgh had in store for you.

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hummus, and other dips to eat as a side. Lauren has invited quite a few first-timers to join her and her friends for their little cocktail party. Being a veteran customer herself, Lauren almost knows how to give Michelle’s introduction word for word. “Reesa, this is Michelle. Michelle remembers everyone. Now, everything here is an alcoholic Apple Cider or Fruit Wine.” Reesa looks incredibly excited to get tasting. “I love Woodchuck-“ she starts, but Lauren cuts her off. “No, no, no, Woodchuck is like baby apple juice compared to this stuff.” Reesa’s dark skin blushes cutely and Lauren continues. “Woodchuck uses concentrate, but these guys use real fruit. And Woodchuck is only 4-5% alcohol, and these guys make 8% or higher.” Michelle steps in to suggest that Reesa start tasting from top of the menu, to the bottom – from Dry flavors to Sweet – but Reesa has other plans. “I’ve

being a part of a family tradition is a big deal – it’s not just that it’s good for business, there’s this sense of accomplishment in creating something that’s important to a family. got my eye on that Blueberry” she says, but the Blueberry wine isn’t right for her. She’s a little confused, because she loves Blueberry; so why doesn’t she love the Blueberry Wine? Michelle, suggests that the Blueberry is too tart, and hands Reesa a second sample. “Oohh, now that’s nice. I have to buy that.” Michelle, like a seasoned painter, picked the right flavors to fit Reesa’s taste palate perfectly. She pours Ressa a growler that’s half Blueberry and half Pear. The Pear knocked out the tart flavor of the Blueberry, but didn’t have a strong enough taste to knock out the Blueberry flavor that Reesa was looking for. Michelle knows what a customer’s looking for even if they don’t, and sometimes that means exploring options that aren’t listed on the menu. Arsenal Cider House products are sold in restaurants and bars across Pittsburgh, as far east as Philadelphia, and are even expanding into Ohio in the future, but Michelle and Bill have never approached other businesses to sell their products. The businesses come to them, because the cider house’s customers have spread the word about Michelle and Bill’s great product, and great hospitality. A petition to Lawrenceville’s Zoning Board of Adjustment to let Arsenal Cider House expand outside, develop a stage for live music, outdoor seating, and food vendors, had hundreds of customer signatures. Thanks to the support of their customers and neighbors the Zoning Board of Adjustment raised absolutely no opposition, which meant that Michelle and Bill were able to go forward with their expansion. Their customers are incredibly loyal and supportive, and without them, Bill and Michelle’s crazy idea would never have worked. They ask Michelle how her kids are doing, how old they are; and the customers sincerely care. They’re like family to Michelle, and the cider home is their home as much as it is hers.

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Creative Writing

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[&you, Misterpoetman] written as a tribute to masterpoet e.e. cummings by novicepoet m.l.perino dear Misterpoetman, you write letters stamped with parenthetical asides with commas&periods linked with the art of printed Text accented alphabets abcdefghijkmlnop; coupled with bracketed anxiety strung together with harp-like dashes: harping on unsung rhythms&rhymes 88keys on a piano, 6strings on a guitar, #Somenotes on a clarinet (and yet) your writings have no set number, no Cognizance for rules ellipses&eclipses makeâ&#x20AC;Ś. wonderful distractions (or Attractractions) for one so keen on writing purposely[you are purposeful, Misterpoetman] you write for attention, Misterpoetman with capitalism riding afoot lowercase emphasis for exodus of minuscule or majuscule OhMy Abreast from the rest Joined with the curledloop of andorbut and clickclickclick go your type writer keys tickticktick go your clockclogs â&#x20AC;&#x201C; clogging the minds of anyone&no one&someone or anbody&nobody&somebody ticketing lowercase stanzas of Capital importance OhLord your modesty bemuses me your writing is off the chartedcharts and mappedmaps yoking words with periodical remarks [how you lark] and !onomatopoeic! clips i am so inclined to like your work, Misterpoetman linebyline; letterbyletter ;qrstuvwxyz you&yourreader are henceforth joined in Unison Your morsecode of lettering is very much beCumming(s), dear dear Misterpoetman. sincerely yours, anyone(i&me)

AUTHOR: MARISSA LYNN PERINO DESIGNER: CHRISTINE SCHAUER 92

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chasing his scent through the city caught me in flurries in hell. snow that wouldn’t fall gentle, but soaked into my socks. i slipped into a warm void i walked into the night sky to see if i could handle the star implosions.

TIRED STAR AUTHOR: MISTURA OLAOYE DESIGNER: AMI BALLO

there were great guiding lights through tunnels of terror. i don’t know how to rise to his level of perfection. like the stars around me i was vulnerable to a catching doubt, days spent comparing rotten apples and stale oranges, trying to reconcile a disconnect between misfortune and rumors of my stardom. i don’t know how to fill the awkward gaps between batting my eyelashes and laughing at his sexist jokes to not looking thirsty and making him work for it. those guiding lights spoke only of potential. i lived on the scraps, the hints that i was a genius just waiting to explode, but they couldn’t save me from darkness. my home burns in screams of fatigue, my family torn apart for reasons i still don’t know, nights i’d cry myself to sleep, hoping for better company to keep in a place where you’re supposed to feel safe. so i swallowed a numbing pill of arrogance, my nose up high where my meager peers couldn’t see, so they wouldn’t catch the scars etched into my dark figure, or maybe they’d believe that the scars were distant stars that they could never understand nor be, i was a marvelous mystery. a sight to behold. not someone to be held.

my beacons of fright urged me to curl up into a dream, where snow falls soft around me, the yellow glow of home waiting for me to come in from the gentle cold. now, i smirk at those poor girls, with their wide eyes and their sentences that go up? and their avoidance of the void. who apologize first, desperate for comfort from his blank expression. as if squishing their blooming dreams puts me in his favor. please chase me, i’m a pink-flavored cloud of dissolution.

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Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes / (Turn Ch-ch-changes / Don’t want ch-ch-ch-changes / (Turn an Ch-ch-changes / Loose change. Spare change. Leave a penny, take a penny: Dixie cups perched on cheap Formica diner countertops by the rickety cash register. Most people have some type of oversized Mason jar or soggy shoebox or a drawer that sticks when you try to open it that contain years of change that was collected after it was fished out of pockets and scraped from the crevices of pocketbooks. There’s probably just as much lint and gum wrappers in the shoebox as there are quarters. Spare change collected in these dime-a-dozen household tins can’t buy you much anymore—a plastic case of Tic Tacs or a Snickers bar perhaps. However, if all of the money in the jar is pooled together, it can be used for a more extravagant purchase: a vacation to Disneyland where the grandkids fight over who gets to ride in the front seat of Space Mountain, a shiny new Buick that seats eight instead of seven, a family reunion where people are crammed on rollaway cots in close quarters, a Panasonic high definition television with surround sound speakers, or a getaway to Hawaii where you get sunburned so bad you look like the same lobster that’s being served on a platter to a seasick cruise guest en route to Turks & Caicos, Bahamas. But when the waiter trapped on that floating paradise for nine months at a time is happy to serve you with no expectations for tip, “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?” On the other side of the coin, David Bowie says he doesn’t want to be a richer man, but a different man. That kind of change does not come freshly minted by Philadelphian presses, but rather, in a giftwrapped box perched high on a shelf just out of reach. The dictionary’s other definition for change, is simply “to make… different from what it is or from what it would be if left alone.” Change is therefore a transformation, translation, transmutation, transmogrification, transubstantiation all bottled up into a pack of Razzles—that violently sour cap-shaped candy that turns to gum after you begin to chew. It is an innovation, modification, and alteration—as long as it has motivation. Change is evolution, as well as revolution; change is a gradual shift, as well as a sudden switch. Change is your car running out of gas, your pencil becoming dull, your toothpaste squeezing on empty. Change is also a broken bone, a broken heart, a broken mind altered suddenly by a rapid turn of events. Change’s two categories can be most clearly marked by one distinct characteristic: evolution is ongoing with its –ing words, while revolution is definite with the past tense –ed. Change has been preached by storytellers for centuries: mythical monster transformations from werewolves to vampires to zombies, Cinderella’s magic coach with its shiny white horses, the hideous Beast who fell in love with Beauty, King Midas’s Golden Touch, Pandora’s Box and the very Body and Blood of the Son of God are splattered across the framework of literary history.

Just gonna have to be a differe me / But I can’t trace time. / (Turn and face the stranger) want to be a richer man / Ch-c and face the stranger) / Ch-c have to be a different man / T I can’t trace time. 12/11/14 1:43 AM

Turn and face the stranger) / want to be a richer man / Chrn and face the stranger) / Every great city in the entire world, from the deserts of Jerusalem to the skyscrapers of New York to the abandoned warehouses of once-industrial Pittsburgh, has gone through substantial changes. Entire countries have moved backwards and forwards and sideways and inside out. The great Roman and Mayan and Chinese empires were built by evolutionary change, but were consequently shattered by revolutionary change. A whole section of the dictionary definition is devoted “to change the course of history.” History would not be made possible without the natural occurrence of change; the ideal of encouraging this in a positive way was captured when Gandhi coined the phrase, “be the change you wish to see in the world.” I could sit here and write a dissertation about the history of change—only to do so I would quite literally have to write out every detail of our Earth’s entire past and by the time I finished I’d be out of ink, you’d be out of luck, and we’d both be out of time. Time runs parallel to change, as in the nickel-and-dime clichés of “times change” or “change with the times,” along with when its tick tocks toll each flip flop of everyday events. It is ironic that these two sister words would be bonded: considering what little time we have, we have a lot of change to accomplish. However, there are two sides to every coin, and on a more positive note, since we have so much change to accomplish, we have a lot of time to fill. In the past century, people waited on the world to change during the Civil Rights Movement of the flower power 60s, the terror of the Cold War in the 70s, and the countless other reforms throughout the 80s and 90s. One of our presidents once said that, “All great change in America begins at the dinner table. So, tomorrow night in the kitchen, I hope the talking begins.” John Mayer says that “we keep waiting, waiting on the world to change.” Nowadays, this applies to the environment and acts of aggression such as in “Now if we had the power / To bring our neighbors home from war / They would have never missed a Christmas / No more ribbons on their door.” Yet again, I could write a novel about all the change that needs to take place— from ugly war, to necessary rights, to global warming, to school systems budgets, to greedy politicians. If we had a nickel for every time the world needed to be changed for the better, we would have enough money to fix all of those problems in under an hour. The best chance we have at earning our keep is to do what we can to make our world a better place. Sir Elton John said that change would do us some good; next time you see a man selling cartoon balloons in town, think before you walk past without giving him a second glance. However, think again before you nonchalantly toss a nickel his way: an Australian street artist once painted, “Keep your coins, I want change.”

ifferent man / Time may change ime. / Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes / nger) / Ch-ch-changes / Don’t Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes / (Turn Ch-ch-changes / Just gonna an / Time may change me / But Issue 15 Copy Edits.indd 95

AUTHOR: MARISSA LYNN PERINO DESIGNER: CHRISTINE SCHAUER

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after oz I. What you might not have heard Is that the Scarecrow Lit himself on fire, What he wanted all along The very worst come true, nothing to fear anymore. The Brain was a nuisance anyway. When you get so busy thinking, you can’t feel the flames. II. The Tinman disappeared via balloon or some other vehicle, he wouldn’t say He always was a head above the rest of us. So we couldn’t follow him up to the clouds. Where the cold fog rusted elbows, and neck, and knees, Until he broke up in the stratosphere. Each scrap of metal fell into the sea somewhere. We recovered a few. The water near the wreckage turned red. The Heart was heavy enough to sink, and did. III. Dorothy got Home, as you know And never got out again. There’s no place like the bed, always made. Nobody around to whip up a good storm. Her little dog got arthritis and died. she hated it anyway But she kept the shoes, Wore them to hear the heels clicking on the floor. In the silence the house felt almost crushing.

AUTHOR: ABIGAIL MEINEN DESIGNER: CHRISTINE SCHAUER

IV. And I don’t think you’ll ever hear me roar. But I am stumbling into speech along winding yellow roads to a place I might call heaven, but don’t remember. Left to search For the words, the Courage. (Funny how it is I who will tell our story).

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MAD GIRLS There was a dead man upstairs and a bloody knife in the kitchen sink. She should wash that knife, Laura knew, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Besides, if she washed it the blood may never come off, like in that story about the man with the blue beard and the headless wives. A black, leggy dog looked up at her, whined, and thumped its long tail against the floor; it sounded like a heartbeat. A thought about the dog came into her mind, about the dog, the knife, her twin sister and the hateful thing upstairs, but the thought ran away. It ran away like the dog should have but didn’t. It wasn’t her dog, but it was now because no one else would remember it. Laura reached down to pet it and the dog shrank back, teeth bared. When the dog came to the house, not alone because dogs could not come to houses by themselves unless you were in a fairytale, it had shown its teeth to her sister too, only it had growled that time. Someone, she forgot who, once said that dogs are remarkable judges of character. The dog’s sharp white teeth reminded Laura that her sister would soon be home, so she lit a candle and put it in the widow to let her know she was still awake. It looked pretty, so pretty that for a moment she forgot that she lit it for her sister. She thought for a moment that she had lit it for herself and the dog, and that they were friends and that there was nothing dead and dark waiting upstairs. Her sister came home and Laura tried to smile, but couldn’t. She had forgotten how to in the course of the evening. “Look Clara, I lit a candle for you.” she said, remembering the purpose of the candle. She and the dog were not friends and there was something dead and dark waiting upstairs. “How thoughtful.” Clara murmured and glanced at the sink. “You didn’t wash the knife.” The thought about the dog came back into Laura’s mind; the dog came with the man and Clara had the knife. Yes, the man came to the house with the dog and Clara grabbed the knife. Another thought came to her mind, sharp as the dog’s white teeth. She needed to leave and go to the police. “Laura, I’m going to bed. You need to do the dishes.” “I can’t. I can’t touch the knife.” Fear chased her thoughts away again. It sent them running like rabbits. “Laura, do the dishes for me. I am going to bed.” Clara said and went upstairs, leaving Laura in the kitchen with her runaway thoughts and not runaway dog. There was a dead man upstairs and a bloody knife in the kitchen sink. She should wash that knife, Laura knew, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Besides, if she washed it the blood may never come off, like in that story about the man with the blue beard and the headless wives. A black, leggy dog looked up at her, whined, and thumped its long tail against the floor; it sounded like a heartbeat.

AUTHOR: EMILIE SULLIVAN DESIGNER: CHRISTINE SCHAUER

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aRS POETICA “Well, my chest is like this cavern- are you listening?” “Mmhmm.” she said. She was tousling his hair, staring at the celling. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Yes.” “Ok. Well, it’s like this cave, full of echoes, and I can tell them all how to bounce.” “So you’re there too then?” she asked. “In the cave?” “Well, in your chest, yeah.” “Of course, always.” he said. “Always?” “Sure, I was there when we were at your parents’ last weekend, and I stepped out on to the breakfast nook to smell the rain. It was falling in a waltz, do you remember that?” “No, I must have been in the kitchen.” “Oh, I think your were. Well, it was, it was falling in a waltz… 1, 2, 3 1, 2, 3 1, 2, 3 I kept trying to make it sound like a horse slowing down,” she started laughing, “What?” he asked “It’s just I know that one is all.” she said “Oh, good, because I was even there when we started out meeting over reading that text and you had that full-length mirror at the foot of your bed so every time I lifted your shirt over your head you said--” “ooo, are you watching my back,” she sang along, “are you watching my back?” they laughed together. “Yeah,” she said, “I know that one too.”

AUTHOR: TONY RESCH DESIGNER: CHRISTINE SCHAUER

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PHANTOM LIMBS I was reading a book about an old thunder god in Greece who lived up on a mountain. It said he made all humans with two of everything and then split them in half so they’d all have to wander the Earth looking for their missing part. And that’s when I grabbed my leg. In my six years alive, it was the worst pain I had ever felt. It was underneath my skin, my muscles; it was a bone breaking but nothing had popped up, nothing was protruding, no cast was ever put on, no x-ray called for. “Are you okay?” My mother bustled in at the sound of yells I didn’t know I was making. I could only point to where it hurt and cry, skin sponged over in red. She placed her hands to it and I jumped, but nothing happened. After minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty minutes, it went away and she held me while I shuddered in her arms. “It’s okay,” she said, “You’re okay now.” She said it in the soft way and suddenly I realized my mother could be the only other humanon the planet and I’d be okay with it. She told me to tell her a story. “Once upon a time,” I said, sniffling out a recital of every movie I knew at that point, “People had two heads and arms and legs and the mean god who lived on the mountain split them apart and made them cry while they looked everywhere for their other half.” Mom looked over at my book and nodded, “Yes, I believe he did.” I nodded and tried to imagine myself with four arms and four legs, I wondered if the other half of me would look just like this one. “You know a long time ago when people would get married,” she said, pulling me back so her green eyes were painting my blue ones, “They’d always say they loved each other all their life and that they’d just been waiting to meet. But it was just a saying back then.” “What’s a saying?” “Something people only say but doesn’t actually happen. Like when daddy says he’s so hungry he could eat a horse,” she said. “People who get married now know each other all along?” “In a way.” “When did it stop being a saying?” I asked. “When it started being a feeling.” She told me someone out in the world got hurt and I felt it because I was the part of them that got separated. In Japan, people believed that a red string tied people together who were supposed to meet and that because we were connected by that red string we hurt each other when he hurt ourselves. “So you feel it when daddy accidently hammers his thumb

instead of the nail?” I asked. “No,” she said. They got divorced a year later. His name was Roosevelt Cairns but he went by his middle name. “My dad grew up obsessed with bears,” he said, “Which is weird, I guess. My mom wanted him to name me Theodore instead but he’d been set on Roosevelt since he was eight and wanted it to be his name.” David, the name everyone but his father called him, was his mother’s input; it was his grandfather’s name and the name of a few others generations back when the family was still living in Poland. He said his grandfather always pronounced it the Yiddish way and tried to make him say it that way when he was younger. “I don’t have a story for my name,” I said. Olivia, it means olive tree, we’re Italian, very original, go team. He liked it, though. “I want to show you something,” I said when we went on our fourth date. It had been maybe a month. He wasn’t even my boyfriend. I was afraid to show him. He was the first person I’d ever shown it to. I pulled out a small green book filled from the front of the pages to the back with incidents starting from the one with my leg when I was six. It was risky and dumb; I’d heard stories at school about amazing relationships ending overnight because someone decided to whip out their book and the other one got freaked, or perhaps two people who were sure they were destined for each other found out they were very wrong. I opened up to the first page. “On October 3rd eleven years ago my leg hurt so bad I thought I’d broken it just sitting on the couch,” I said. “On October 3rd eleven years ago, I jumped off a swing midair and broke my leg.” We went on a fifth date.

AUTHOR: MELANIE MOYER DESIGNER: HANNAH WEINTRAUB

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PATIENCE WEARS THIN Vinyl records spin on the downbeat of the feet tapping slightly off High-scale notes melt beneath a 4/4 rhythm with graciously dissonant syncopation in the same way I do when face-to-face with a boy even remotely attractive. And if you were to breeze by them as fast as google-chrome-or— iphones-or— sports-cars-or— hook-ups-or— money-or— liquor-or— lust-or— ithinkwe’dbothbebetteroffapart…

Lure The sweat on your skin smells like the carpet we danced on last night in front of the fireplace, beneath the dim chandelier, with no music. And your heavy breaths are in time with my swallows. And your warm breath is my marijuana. Usually I would worry about the night air weaving through street lamps and slipping under the door like a blank paper to fill the spaces between us and remind me of what we are not. But tonight I leave the window open so that when you whisper on my lip I will feel the air hit the roof of my mouth, and know that this is the closest I’ll ever be to love.

UNLATCHING You pick me up from the driveway— sky green and tattered, old puddles thick with the morning’s shuffled steps. How have you been? Red lights are rubies. I reach for them, my hands are putty against the window— molded by silence. Where are we? Your hands look soft when wrapped around the steering wheel. Road kill. Us. People walking with umbrellas; I wonder if they know what rain feels like. I do. Where are we going? Your presence is a transparent blanket and I’m glad it’s cold outside; It makes it easier to pretend that the small plant on your dashboard isn’t made of plastic. You drop me off at the driveway— the hug meant more than the empty words. What have we gained?

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SELFEvery time a boy I liked in high school decides to come out as gay I say, “Goddammit, these scattered leaves are always so close to overlapping.” I cannot count the times I’ve heard “I’m sorry, I’m straight” and it sounds like a door locking which is somehow more pleasurable than the silent mutation of a door stuck— gray putty— it is lung stealing, but not light stealing, for can light really be stolen if you were never aware of its presence? Maybe it’s because I need validation… because I am not afraid to show who I am but I do not know who I am. Like Newton’s Cradle I jive left and right, harmoniously conducting a song to the unknown where the energy seems to be condensed in the middle— an inverted microwave, or perhaps the story’s climax. But people seem to best remember beginnings and ends. Is that all I am, is a beginning or an end? Am I left behind or am I far ahead? Am I beginning or end? Am I who I am or who I say I am? Am I Anxiety or Depression? Am I D.I.D. or Dissociative Identity Disorder? Am I human or Homo… sapien? Am I shampoo rolling off scarred fingers— slow and slippery as lava rolling down flat mountains— slow and sinister as the silence come Saturday morning and the lethargy of last night’s prayer to Forbes Avenue that I will not be beginning or end. Every time a boy I liked in high school decides to come out as gay I ask, “Can you be in love with more than one person at the same time?”

AUTHOR: TALLON KENNEDY DESIGNER: CHRISTINE SCHAUER

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Goodbye Note Dear Lovely Reader, the time has come, to bid you adieu I wish it weren’t so, but as you turned the pages, the world around you has changed. I hope the words, photos, illustrations, and designs of the pages have transformed you in some way as well. Take this change and explore Pittsburgh and all of the beauty, diversity, and uniqueness it holds. Change comes in all shapes, sizes, and forms. Though, this magazine continues to grow, with each new staff and issue, as long as you read us, we will share our love of Pittsburgh and all that it is, with you. Thank you for going on an adventure with us—through the streets of Lawrenceville and through the minds of professors and performers. Issue 15 of The Original has found its way into your hands through many hours of work and tears, but we have made it. We have put these pages of text, photos, and designs together for you. We look forward to showing you what we have in store for the issues to come. Here is to you. To the writers, designers, photographers, illustrators, and editors for keeping us beautiful. To the readers and page-turners for giving us a purpose. And remember… stay Original! - Sarah Baumann Photography and Managing Editor

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