THE PAPER MIXTAPE Issue 11

THE PAPER MI XTAPE 011 TPM MAG ISSUE 011 KINETICS

111 PAGES 15 ARTICLES 27 PHOTOS

11 WRITERS 4 PHOTOGRAPHERS

SPRI NG 2020

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THE PAPER MIXTAPE ISSUE 011

INFORMATION

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THE PAPER MIXTAPE is a biannual Publication, issued Spring and Fall, produced by UCLA students chronicling LA arts and culture.

FOR ADVERTISING please contact: thepapermixtape@gmail.com SUBSCRIPTION INFORMATION Individual issue - $20.00 1 Year Subscription - $35.00 CONTACT INFORMATION Email - thepapermixtape@gmail.com Website - www.tpmmag.com Instagram - @thepapermixtape PRINTING Westwood Copies 1019 Gayley Ave #111 Los Angeles, CA 90024

EDITOR’S NOTE

This issue’s theme — Kinetics — comes from kinetic energy, the energy a mass attains while in motion. We know kinetic motion is present in our physical world, but there is something to be said about the energy of the intangible. The energy of new thoughts, old feelings that have returned, fears and questions that gain importance with speed; these are all invisible energies in motion.

Energy is everywhere if you push yourself to look at it like so, which the pieces in Issue 11 do in various and inventive forms. “Remembering Manzanar” revisits an internment camp, while “Lethe” explores sensory deprivation tanks through poetry. Pieces like “Perpetuum Mobile” and “A Knight’s Charade” look at the hypnotic energy of oft-forgot everyday actions and the Knight tarot card, respectively.

It is easy to say that art thrives during chaos; that staying-at-home orders are spaces for focusing on neglected creative work; that productive creativity is the noble escape form. While creativity is a uniting form of expression during times of change, it is not the only way to unite with your community. It is okay to not push yourself creatively if you feel unable to that day. Stand against the cliche of the suffering artist as the only valid form, and lean into the practice of creativity as an outlet on your terms. Like energy, creativity is present in more things than you may expect — engage with your community and find creative solutions for

CAMERON VERNALI

problems however you best see fit, so long as you try. Trying is the most important thing you can do, as that is how real action manifests; overseeing this magazine’s creation twice has shown me this firsthand. Being The Paper Mixtape’s EIC is one of the best things that happened to me at UCLA and is the only way I could have ended my college years before going into a recession. : ) It has been a gift to help TPM this year in such a capacity, as our collective creativity brought us together physically before we gather here now, digitally.

— Cameron Vernali, Editor-in-Chief

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EDITOR’S NOTE

Though the circumstances were unexpected, we have produced our Issue 11 of The Paper Mixtape Magazine (a great issue, I may add)! This year has truly been a whirlwind adventure. In the spirit of keeping it short and sweet, I will just say that I am grateful. I am grateful to be surrounded by such a large array of creative individuals on staff, and it has been truly amazing to experience the passion that everyone brought with them. TPM is a place where anyone can express themselves, where anyone can step out of their comfort zone and know that they will be supported. This organization has been a home for me in my time at UCLA, and I am glad that it continues to provide a community, as well as a creative outlet for so many other students. I am proud of the work that we have all done this year, and I am grateful to have been allowed the opportunity to contribute to TPM and our legacy here on campus :-)

— Annette Sorensen, Executive Director

ANNETTE SORENSON

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ISSUE 11

Founder Morgan Cadigan Editor in Chief Cameron Vernali Executive Director Annette Sorensen Creative Directors Amy Fang Jimmy Zhi Section Editors Conner Wharton Genevieve Pfluger Nina Young Contributors Cameron Vernali Emily Liu Jaden Power Jaime Hattori Jocelyne Nguyen Judy Vallette Karina Remer

Lizzy Tommey Maya Gee-Lim Nina Young Olivia Lindgren Phoebe Green Sydney Deardorff

Blog Heads Judy Vallette Phoebe Green Blog Team Alice Zheng Armine Gulyan Ayush Varadhan Dom Maiorca Emily Liu Emma Karpman Jocelyne Nguyen Gianna Provenzano Jackie Vanzura Melissa Arismendy Melissa Diaz Rikako Hayota Sophia Li Yiren Xu Zine Heads Sydney Deardorff

STAFF

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Sidra Rashid Illustration Heads

Juliette Le Saint

Nina Young Illustrators

David Lee

Sarah Heisler Photography Head Jaime Hattori Photographers Alaina Dexter Alondra Orn Ayush Varadhan Dom Maiorca Emma Karpman Jaden Power Jason Chua Karina Remer Lizzy Tommey Maya Gee-Lim Melissa Arismendy Quinn Douhan Rikako Hayota

Design Heads Amy Fang Jimmy Zhi Designers Amy Fang Jimmy Zhi Karina Remer Videography Head

Megan Mai Videographers Alondra Orn Maria Petrescu Nancy Khuc Podcast Head Ariyana Chowdhury General Events Head Melissa Diaz Off-Campus Events Head Yuval Schnitkes

ISSUE 11

Off-Campus Events Team Dom Maiorca Maria Petrescu Sarah Heisler Quinn Douhan On-Campus Events Team Conner Wharton Lexi Garfinkel Thit Yin Win In-House Events Team

Lexi Garfinkel Music Team Ayush Varadhan Carly Havenick Thit Yin Win Social Media Team Marian Huang Daut Nessipbekov Finance Head

Sarineh Khachikian

General Fundraising Team Lexi Garfinkel Yuval Schnitkes Grants Team

Yiren Xu

STAFF

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ISSUE 11

Editor's Note Cameron Vernali Annette Sorenson

[ editor's note ] [ editor-in-chief ] [ executive director ]

02

Q&A

TPM Staff

[ staff-wide question ] [ staff ]

12

No Compliance

Cameron Vernali

[ interview ] [ writer, photographer ]

18

Lethe

Nina Young David Lee

[ poem, illustrations ] [ writer ] [ illustrator ]

34

The Fly's Song

Phoebe Green

[ essay ] [ writer ]

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A Record of Light

Lizzy Tommey

[ photos ] [ photographer ]

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Interview with Crash Hoeffler

Nina Young

[ interview ] [ writer ]

TECHNO

Judy Vallette

[ essay, illustrations ] [ writer, illustrator ]

Vignettes on Technology and Mourning

Nina Young

[ short stories ] [ writer ]

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52

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Running

Jaden Power

11

[ poem ] [ writer ]

62

Remembering Manzanar

Sydney Deardorff

[ essay, photos ] [ writer, photographer ]

A Knight's Charade

Jocelyne Nguyen Nina Young

[ essay, illustrations ] [ writer ] [ illustrator ]

74

Perpetuum Mobile

Maya Gee Lim

[ photos ] [ photographer ]

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The End of Everything

Olivia Lindgren

[ essay ] [ writer ]

Sunset Chasers

Emily Liu

[ screenplay ] [ writer ]

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85

88

ISSUE 11

C E N N O C U O Y E R A HO W A T S I D L A I C O S G N I D UR U G N I H T E M O S S I T WHA O S G N I R U D S S I M U YO U O Y G N I T T E G S I T WHA W O H S A R E H T I E ?

E TI M , N A I C I S U M , A R T N MA

Q&A

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S R E H T O O T G C TI N 1 ?

G N I ANC

T A H T D E T C E P X E 2 N U ?

G N I C N A T S I D L A I OC

S I H T H G U O U THR , T H G U O H T , Y T I V I T W, AC 3 ETC !

ISSUE 11

Amy Fang

Sharing books, music, art and love with one another!

Lizzy Tommey

Instagram and Texting

Emily Liu

facetimes, group chats, various social media platforms!

Rikako Hatoya

Messenger calls. Sometimes I talk to myself because I’m so lonely.

Sophia Li

social media and texting

Gianna

Lots of Skype, watching movies with Netflix Party (would highly recommend!), keeping running conversations with friends, playing videogames together

Judy Vallette

facetime, text, houseparty, lucky enough to be living amongst friends for entertainment

Lexi Garfinkel

i am hanging out a bunch with my family and I am making sure to facetime all my friends I can’t see!

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Q&A

15

2 Amy Fang

early morning walks to my favorite coffee shop

Lizzy Tommey

I miss eating at a restaurant

Emily Liu

hugging friends :(

Rikako Hatoya

Not being able to go to concerts, or get tattoos or nails done. My favorite poke shop is closed.

Sophia Li

n/a

Gianna

Walking places, I miss walking through campus

Judy Vallette

Having a concrete destination to go to

Lexi Garfinkel

Living on my own at ucla!

ISSUE 11

Amy Fang

the thought that life is just waiting for me out there

Lizzy Tommey

Lots and lots of Mad Men

Emily Liu

reading some great books (book of disquiet), listening to some great music (beach fossils)

Rikako Hatoya

I’ve been blasting tame impala songs with my music-synchronizing led room lights on to reproduce the tame impala concert i went to in SD a week before corona virus shut down everything. I’ve also bought a film camera and plan to take photos.

I’ve also been trying to teach myself graphic design. I’ve also watched a lot of random things-- NPR tiny desk videos, at least 3 rounds of each episode of black mirror, etc.

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Q&A

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Sophia Li

game pigeon (anagrams!!)

Gianna

Making (virtual) plans, whether it’s a movie night or a livestreaming a concert, it helps break up the days and make them different

Judy Vallette

Dancing

Lexi Garfinkel

reading harry potter!

O N M O C A I L P

INTERVIEW: NO COMPLIANCE

CAM VERNALI

E C N A

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WORDS: CAMERON VERNALI PHOTOS: CAMERON VERNALI

INTERVIEW: NO COMPLIANCE

[ tpm ]

How long have you been skateboarding for?

[ peter ]

Maybe 1.5 years...well I’ve had a skateboard since 5th grade, but I only cruzed around and I’ve only started to actually try the beginning of this school year, pretty much.

[ teddy ]

Like a year and… by the end of this year it’ll be two years.

[ tpm ] [ peter ]

Why did you start actively skateboarding?

‘Cause I think… one of my friends, Charlie, taught me how to do this trick and I got close, so I realized it’s fun to do that. I wanted to do more stuff like that, so I learned the trick and kept doing stuff.

CAMERON VERNALI

[ tpm ]

[ teddy ]

[ tpm ]

21

But a lot of other things look fun. What about skateboarding specifically looked fun that you wanted to do it? As opposed to sports or something— It just looked like you could do it anywhere. It looked more fun because sports, like tennis or football or hockey or water polo, you have to be on a field or a track. You have to be there. But then, skating, you can do it almost everywhere.

When you’re on the board, do your tricks feel slow or fast to you? Does it feel like a blur of action or do you notice every single step?

[ peter ]

I’m pretty aware of it all, yup. It’s not really -- stuff like that isn’t really fast, like… you know what it’s gonna do. It’s not just like (swooshing sounds).

[ teddy ]

It feels like it’s cool, like you’re just doing something for less than a second or a bit longer than that. But it feels longer than what it is.

[ tpm ]

Why do you think other kids that you know skate?

Cause it’s fun or-

[ peter ]

Yeah. Well, I mean all the 6th graders (I know)

INTERVIEW: NO COMPLIANCE

CAMERON VERNALI

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literally could be in my grade. They’re all as mature as me. [ tpm ] [ peter ] [ tpm ] [ peter ] [ tpm ]

So you think you’re mature?

No. Not that much.

But more than maybe some other kids in your grade? Like, comparatively?

Not really. I think I’m a little bit immature, or like, average.

Do you think you’re growing up really fast?

[ peter ]

My shoe size has been the same for 2 years. Teddy’s growing up fast, he’s 5’5 now while I’m 5’3… I don’t think I’m growing up that fast, which I like.

[ teddy ]

I feel like the (school) year’s gone by fast and then it’ll be eighth grade, and then it’ll be high school and then… it feels like it’s going by fast.

[ tpm ]

How do adults look to you? What do you think of them?

INTERVIEW: NO COMPLIANCE

[ teddy ]

[ tpm ] [ peter ] [ tpm ] [ peter ]

[ tpm ] [ peter ] [ tpm ] [ peter ]

[ tpm ] [ teddy ] [ tpm ]

I think, I don’t know… they grew up later so they kind of don’t know what happens now. (They are a bit out of touch) about some things.

Would you say I’m an adult?

Nope.

Cool, good.

Adults are like… thirty-something.

Twenty-year-olds, I don’t see as adults.

So we’re just hovering in the middle?

Yeah, you guys are like big kids.

Big kids!

Big kids. Adults seem a little bit boring, you’re getting older so you can’t do as many things. But I like adults.

Would you say that you think you know a lot?

Nah, not really. Do I know a lot about what?

I mean, with your phone you know about

CAMERON VERNALI

25

INTERVIEW: NO COMPLIANCE

memes. Or is that what everybody in your grade knows about? [ teddy ]

[ tpm ] [ peter ]

[ tpm ] [ teddy ] [ tpm ] [ teddy ]

[ tpm ]

Yeah, I mean there’s some people who probably don’t really know anything at my school. The type of people who read at lunch or play World of Warcraft in the library.

Why do you think they don’t know anything?

They probably don’t know anything, they probably just read or play World of Warcraft.

Don’t know anything, you mean like in a social way?

Yeah, stuff that’s going on. Or stuff that is trendy.

What is trendy now, then?

Literally everyone uses TikTok and makes TikToks. I think it’s very annoying because it really is annoying… It’s very repetitive and everybody does it, thinking it’s original when it’s not.

So then why do you have an account?

CAMERON VERNALI

[ teddy ]

[ tpm ]

27

Because I like watching things… like I still think it’s kind of annoying but I also think it’s really funny. [pulls out his phone, plays TikTok video and laughs] It’s just super funny.

Do you know anything about the news or the future, or not really?

[ peter ]

I wake up normally at like 7:30, then I eat breakfast. Then I kinda glance at the TV, because the news is on in the morning. I don’t really watch it, I don’t really care for the news, I don’t really wanna know.

[ teddy ]

No not really, like at all.

[ tpm ] [ peter ] [ tpm ] [ peter ]

Do you know anything about climate change?

Yea, we have to do that in school.

In school, how?

Through articles, we have to think about… it’s about global activities.

There’s 17 things and how people are trying to fix it, we have to write 2 articles or so on it.

INTERVIEW: NO COMPLIANCE

CAMERON VERNALI

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INTERVIEW: NO COMPLIANCE

[ tpm ]

Does climate change seem scary or does it seem fine, like we will figure stuff out?

[ teddy ]

There’s smart people (out there), they’ll do something. I’m not really old enough to really do anything.

[ peter ]

Pretty much... I think that we’re probably gonna be fine. A couple things may go away completely— like maybe tuna will become extinct— but most things will be fine.

[ tpm ]

[ peter ]

[ tpm ]

Do you think with your friends and classmates, are there things that people are commonly worried or upset about?

I see on the news about Juuls and Puff Bars and weed and wax, which they say is bad for you, which I think is bad for you as well. Because kids my age are doing that, which isn’t good…

Collectively, in our grade that people worry about, I don’t really know. Some kids are maybe like, “oh no, the Coronavirus,” but most people aren’t really worried about much stuff.

So people are just like there, doing their own thing?

CAMERON VERNALI

[ peter ] [ tpm ] [ teddy ] [ tpm ] [ teddy ] [ tpm ] [ peter ]

[ tpm ] [ peter ]

[ tpm ]

31

Nobody’s really worried about stuff.

Do I seem stressed?

Mmmmm…

Mmmm?

You seem like you have a lot to do.

Where do you think you’re gonna go as a skateboarder?

I think I’m gonna keep doing it all of middle school, in high school I’ll stop and then I’ll do it again in college.

Why do you think you’re gonna stop in high school?

Actually, not all of high school, maybe later on in high school. You don’t have that much time to do it.

Doing all that work and stuff… but in college, you don’t have to do that much work. Right?

Yeah, you don’t.

INTERVIEW: NO COMPLIANCE

CAMERON VERNALI

33

POEM: LETHE

ods. p in , d n u o ndergr u , e r e h n w o Futuristic d ed. d n e p s u s be t time o Waiting to n , e c a p s ion of ges d It’s a quest e y m e ers il d h r o w b a e in h t e p c Ta Every on - soft, s s ith fle e w n k g r in a

g d r e in m n Water A priso . m is r p ed gla e g h g o f Of t m o r f smile

ication

if r u p t ’ n is fridge ion y t in lu h o s s a lt a in ’m sli s I t a e The m d e r ion: cu t a v r e s e r p But g, roug in e e h t b

y y b m d f e o k shoc e lines h t y b d le t r Sta SLAP f my thighs agains O nd myself s me a in a t n o c

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holes. g in t la il c s

are o e c a f y m e r up, efo g b in s h d c n a a e r h y M um agons x le e o h s f u o a e m d a a m m: ura t a n Beyond the a e k li It feels e ch it

in f in e h t nce to a r t n e e h t

th from r o f d n a k just c a ld b u o g w in I d if li S g me in w o ll a w s h The mout Forgot RELAX.

~

NINA YOUNG

35

~ E H T LE ga

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ick with it.

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INA YOUNG WORDS: N LEE ART: DAVID

ark.

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finite). in 8 by 7 feet) ( s s e n k c the bla

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tten

world l a e r e h t l e unrav ly w lo s s e c silen

POEM: LETHE

nd the a t s r e d n u ner door to

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is a re g in h t a e r b els rig e f , Disruptive p m li s pe, palm a g a s e byss y a e e

d h n t a h h g t u u o my mo wn thr o h d it w e g m are in g y a o r a b L d m s li n d a n g r a o Death of my t h ig e w e ps he h u T c n io v li b But O

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e h t h it w mixes spot n is io h t t o n m o nd r t y a h M e ig s r o n p e r u e p b ithout always w e h v t ’ r I o k f in d h n t a I g back in h s lo s k A rainstic

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NINA YOUNG

37

undary )

t all? a e h t a e r b ey

spine y m f o g in ack belly, the cr ngible. e-like. s p r o c e b Better to tillness.

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quiet. e h ed rat, and t ed. h , n c s o n s d e e r r n a d p d n miss the whole Trapped a chable u o t n u e h t It’s and ld r o w r e d le un ers.

Unavoidab iv r ’ s e d a H dest of in k e h t is Lethe away s e k a t e h s nger ) and u , o Y m a e e h r t t s a c , Sene s n with placid e r u F s le ercu the path” (H

POEM: LETHE

NINA YOUNG

39

ESSAY: THE FLY'S SONG

E TH Y’S L F

– I’m not what exactly n (o t ac p im f stuck in me kind o in the clouds, ay w self, make so ad e h y of p eo up with m nstant stream co a sure). I grew y b d lle e online. tasies fu ts of success un o influencer fan am e ug h shed job, hieving me, distingui o h ple my age ac a f o as idely recthe ide , and being w it) Caught up in su re w o p ut still felt (maybe a plishments b m nice clothes co ac y m of people asted on it. I think a lot su ognized, I fe ur p e th chase after tisfied with their time to g hungry, unsa n ci ifi cr sa hirlwind of happy ht up in the w ug are actually un ca e, lu va as so preave little ss. Maybe I w re things that h st d an , rk o sed out on nition, w ess that I mis money, recog cc su f o a e this id occupied with ents. m o m some little ul, perfect is a wonderf It . ity cr io d e h m As a child, sitt that is what today, I relis ing on the pat ordinary, and ut e B ar le p o e P . io on a hot su differencf us from a large mmer day, I d resentation o glass contain use the little p ca re e b , ar ra ul n k er of iced tea, e grab my ectac mother to m and begged oments in tim ake me a st akes them sp m m t e ui q e, m ic y ra wberry daiqui the corner re. N looked up fro ri as well. Sh as station on count for mo m her book g s e e th f o ts h e lig and laughed municating w : the night in the , effectively co areness now ly spend my hen you’re old d e aw h as ab m un er. I wonder if road, skatI have read m g; I can I am older no on a familiar ore books, m g are welcomin n vi ri d , re w o . ad e more mista less discernib e pale early cery st kes, but have le direction in a bagel in th sles of a gro ai g in at e e, a ag life. The world through soft l eternal, as g gar communicat looks and mo g in a parkin days that fee in e th in rt e s fo m ents: a fly buz head, I swatte com e something zed around m orning. I find d at it, and it ere you mak h m w s, ile m r y landed in my notice me an ly changed. on fo ear, as if to sa d listen. I sho they stretch thing has real o if n at th d y fin o k my head to to in your abwant to hear get it out, I did it, to acknowle eat and return s exchanged rd to o w w fe n’ e t th dge its despe tention beca extra space pt for rate cries for use that woul hen you have Nothing exce w , ill st s at d d an mean I recog behavior in th e st ed in these nized my ow nce, as if tim at of a fly. Th e be contain se lif e tir n e y n m e day was to uncomfortab can o hot, I beca le, my legs st to think. How me uck to the ch up and flee fr ? g in th o air as I tried to om the song days of n get of the fly. I thin be heard and k we all desire recognized. to Leaving behin d the yellow g low of my child on that hund hood backyar red-degree-d d ay , I realize the another day re will never like that. Tim b e e p asses faster and with every with each ye tick of the clo ar ck, pressure tion of succe mounts. The ss absorbs us n o , narrowing our accomplishm ent of an ab focus on the st ract concept. like a warm b ath, envelope Success. It’s d in bubbles when you ge and lavender, t out, it’s cold but . And you’re p ing so much runy from sp time in the w e n dat e r, your physica in feelings of l self steeped longing.

I always wante

d to leave ho

me and make

a name for m y-

PHOEBE GREEN

41

O S

G N

BY RDS O W

E OEB

EN

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PH

The k learn ey to en jo ing. the i Altho ying tho dea se lo ugh o soci etal f succe my cur ng days rent ss, I pres of t h is a kn su se e p famo word, t re to su ow I stil lf feels rocess l des o no ccee of un deta us, a t ir very c n d diffic d to ask yearn fo , in the e it; to t hed fro hr m to fin m r u y d va lt. Some ourself the lifes ost gen ow out a wha w l e t i ll t d h y h r al s le o atio ing yy t I hav I was m n exter in me s ou do an f the ric ense nally eant till w e to ythin h an , a rem ains live up t to. Whe and fee nts to p g you do d . o, co re ro l me f do the like I ac ve mys is elf, com se lo rom If th ? Th p e e po fty notio lished som re is a st-b e b ath c ns, that the c times I t alance oldn b h a ess bett se, I am ink succ etween er w simp ess in lu hen the i s c l i k. A city just ac o funn ne who compan good c being c and su u laug c c es iest onte i p of ed b h p all o ver y erson in s at all y the wa coffee t nt. If this s, of as o rm tify a i n ap ur hand the worl your jok smile tes muc s o a d r be d e h u t f – h s s t a h e h as if frien a ti in e d y struc fined in c attitud g to cla n when ss. I you’r ou are t – e bu ts ru so m h t m e can l e sp eras e your li any diff the poin ay be t fe, lik rying illing it eren e all t is t h t the s e t pect hunting ways. Le at succe o jusI’ve only acul s d t s ca t o i n w g ar nu n my o ju ance popular rigid co n wn m st turne n ity o I wa s life d tw orta r pro n l e has f leav t to live, ity bears nty, the i t o offer t, e t i . mak me feel o fill my ts teeth road is l ing e e me ong at m life, e m n a who ot he ea pty, b le. ut w with arb ch mor ad. But ith m ning itrary ,a ome nts s awards nd o sim th ple t at hey

PHOTO ESSAY: A RECORD OF LIGHT

LIZZY TOMMEY

43

PHOTO ESSAY: A RECORD OF LIGHT

LIZZY TOMMEY

45

INTERVIEW WITH CRASH HOEFFLER

Intervi ew wi th C RASH HO EFLE

WORDS: NINA YOUNG

NINA YOUNG

ER, [i ]

47

fo under o f Lo s Angeles’ Flo at Lab Tec hno lo gi es I recently discovered: you can live without your body for two hours at a time in Float Lab’s sensory deprivation experience.

Floating in a tank, buoyed by skin-temperature, Epsom salt solution, sensory deprivation is a space where your sight, hearing, and sense of touch are lost to the ether. Darkness abounds once you step through the door and you’re allowed to simply be. I spoke to the L.A. company’s founder, Crash Hoefler, about his relationship to sensory isolation and the benefits of the technology.

INTERVIEW WITH CRASH HOEFFLER

[tpm] [c h]

[tpm]

When did you first realize the importance of floating over 20 years ago and how did it contribute to your development?

I was unaware of what sensory deprivation was, initially. I wasn’t certain of what these (float tanks) were: I investigated how to make one, first off. I had such a strong inclination to build this and use it for whatever reason so I got (a tank) built, and I got in it. At that point in my life, I was going through a transition … and I saw what it was potentially capable of. It somehow gives you access to yourself. It’s like a personal development tool. It wasn’t relaxing for me at all or peaceful. When I first started doing (sensory deprivation), it was very confrontational. I was in there with myself, evaluating what had gone on in the past ... the system allowed me to investigate within myself.

Did you find those experiences to be painful, then, rather than meditative?

NINA YOUNG

[c h]

[tpm] [c h] [tpm]

49

Painful wouldn’t be the right word for me, it would be more like “draining.” I only would do an hour at the beginning, every single day … while in (the float tank), I was beat up pretty good, but when I got out, it was like, “Whoa man, I feel great!” Before (beginning the experience), I required constant stimulation.

To be able to be alone, without the use of any additives to stabilize myself and to be comfortable with myself, was a unique feeling. I knew it would catch on.

What is the longest you’ve stayed in a floatation lab?

At one point when I was more available, I would do over 6 hours on a daily basis, working through deep stuff. But that’s like a full time job! Now I can’t do that.

In long stretches of floating like that, what was your sense of time like?

INTERVIEW WITH CRASH HOEFFLER

[c h]

[tpm]

At that stage in my development I wasn’t really concerned about time. I didn’t consider time, that was me just exploring myself without any attachment. We don’t know very much about ourselves, what we are. It all seems to be a mystery … A lot of people find themselves attached to conditions from religion, or work, or family, or groups or politics, or whatever these factors might be that sway your process of consideration. These gets all that out of the way with (floatation) …

Just today, I heard someone say “Sensory deprivation is cool if you’re cool.” I think that’s a good analogy of how it is.

Because you’re in there with you and if you’re not good company, it’s not the best place to be.

The setting before getting in the tank is fairly sterile, monotone, underground, and quiet. Did you design this mediating space to help prepare individuals for floating?

NINA YOUNG

[c h]

51

We try to stay uninvolved with the people completely. We’re not trying to sell you a package or anything: we try to provide a service for people and a lot of individuals don’t want to talk to anyone, or be talked to. I personally would rather be left alone. That’s why, down there, you come in through the front and go out through the back. You don’t have someone saying, “HEY how was your float?!” None of your business ... when you’re asking somebody to explain the float, it is so specific to the individual.

You cannot put your own groove on it for someone else.

ESSAY: TECHNO

WORDS: JUDY VALLETTE ILLUSTRATIONS: JUDY VALLETTE

TECHNO

JUDY VALLETTE

53

ESSAY: TECHNO Disclaimer: I am not a music technician, for more accurate depiction of sound feel free to lose yourself in the splendid sound void of Soundcloud!

WHAT IS THE TECHNO SCENE? WHAT IS TECHNO CULTURE? TECHNO MUSIC, LOVE, SOUND, RHYTHM, BASS? These are all questions I had set forth to find out during my study abroad in Berlin. life on the high ball, fast and relentless. Much more different than the easy going laid back atmosphere of Los Angeles.

So let’s set ~the scene THE HISTORY Techno actually originated in Detroit, under the genre techno house music until it got exported to Western Germany. The culturally Americanized Germans found it nothing short of enthralling and soon created a new sound singular to Berlin: Acid House. This was a melange of 80s almost disco type songs with a pumping bass. Imagine 80s iconic songs like Pump it Up by Technotronics, or Good Life by Inner City. Music like this would provide the fundamental building blocks for the immersion of the new genre techno house characterized by its gradual loss in lyrics/vocals all together in favor of a heavy emphasis on rhythm and sound. Acid House would soon lose momentum lasting only a mere

couple of years in its glory (it even achieved a hint of mainstream success). Then suddenly, the Berlin Wall fell down and the young East Germans greedily devoured all this new material in the form of movies, literature, and yes music that had been previously withheld from them.

This is the time of the rise of Berlin techno old star clubs like UFO club (the first acid house club in Berlin).

The scene was forming, and slowly the techno house started splitting.

The difference between the two is arguable, and I am not an expert, but house has a higher concentration around soulful rhythmics while techno is more all about that bass (no treble). Techno itself is a very large term and techno fans can and will divide the genre into thousand different subcategories depending on how many beats per minutes, rhythm, key, tone…

THE LOVE PARADE This music festival started to spread positivity and love for others and techno with an underlying political message of ‘fuck you to corruption’ has gained much notoriety. Yet, its remembrance has been thwarted by the unfortunate disaster and casualties that the final love Parade in 2004 had incurred due to a lack

JUDY VALLETTE

55 Where to Go From Here (Besides Straight to Berlin) Meme Accounts: Berlin Club Memes, Berliners Movies: Run Lola Run, Goodbye Lenin, Fuck Berlin Music: UnitedWeStream

of foresight and planning. There are countless news articles out there detailing this tragedy so I rather just focus on what the Love Parade’s core values are. The first Love Parade occured in 1989 in West Berlin before the falling of the wall. It was originally a celebration for the infamous DJ Dr Motte and his friends, the motto of it all being Friede (Peace), Freude (Joy), and Eierkuchen (Pancakes). These words are all symbolic of a larger political message against corruption, in order: for disarmament, techno music, fair food distribution. The first one that occured was quite small in numbers however the impact was clear, everyone that participated was already desiring a reproduction of the event next year. Picture this: An immense gathering of the youth (an enthusiastic mindset) ramping down the streets of Berlin blasting techno from makeshift parades like floats. Funky Outfits, Funky Hair, Funky great swarms of people leaving behind their worries of tense politics, shortages, unemployment for a moment of togetherness and TECHNO under the warm shiny sun.

THE CLUB SCENE “Bouncers=Ultimate Vibe Checkers” In Berlin it is not uncommon to stand

in line for 2+ hours to be met with the unfortunate phrase “Nicht heute Abend” (Not Tonight)- this rings especially true for the infamous Berghain almost synonymous to “Berlin”. But if you are lucky and you fit the atmosphere the club wishes to create, out of body borderline dissociative experience awaits inside. Berlin’s clubs will make your ears ring the following day. While each club holds its own theme common features include heavy strobe lighting, pumping fog machines, and naturally heavy duty music blasting speakers with the DJ located in the middle ground level with its crowd. Bass fanatics may be found pressed as close as possible to the rhythmic sound pulsatingly propagated. A huge purpose of techno is to lose your preoccupations and be lost in the electronic music. There’s a high concentration on sensory feeling hence the many tactics of dark lighting and theater apparatus.The clubs themselves more often than not fall under one of two descriptive categories: either that of industrial or the fantastic. Some noteworthy clubs and their placement: Berghain (industrial for sure, I mean their legendary bouncer Sven Marquardt just exudes harsh metal with his multitude of piercings and tattoos) , Griessmuehle (an industrial

ESSAY: TECHNO

JUDY VALLETTE

57

categorization with its factory like basement venues), Tresor (industrial: heavy blue lighting, sleek white bar setting and cloisters of small rooms), Mensch Meir (leaning more on the side of fantsy but with a grunge like twist complete with red interior walls, graffiti, pink and blue lighting), Suicide Circus (fantasy: Colorful distorted murals made even more so by a plethora of fog machines), Kit Kat (fantastical: with giant greek sculptures, hanging ceiling ornamentations, a multitude of bars and levels).

FASHION Dog collars as chokers. Heavy black eyeliner. Spikes. Bowl cuts. Little Bangs. Chains, loads of them, the more the merrier, on your neck, dangling from a pants, on your body.

Fishnets. Makeup glittery, smoky, pink, blue, smoky. Or simple. Key colors: Black. This is the industrial techno garb. Stripping to simple color palettes and metallics of futuristic minimalism. If you’re going to Kit Kat or Berghain during their SNAX party night (originally a male fetish club) the keyword is less is more (meaning clothes are very optional). Now if you’re aiming at Fantasy expect more rather than less. Headpieces: Kater Blau’s

new bouncer is recognizable for his Mad Hatter-like top hat which he kindly tots as he oversees the vibe of everyone who approaches.

Crazy stockings, ruffled skirts, circus makeup, fairy, glitter.

CURRENT STRUGGLES The Gentrification of the Rich in Berlin’s inner city has posed a great threat to many of these long established techno scene culture iconage clubs. Berlin has famously been described as “poor but sexy”, the techno/club scene is the embodiment of this ~sexy message.

However, the trickling of young families and the upper class into the ring of Berlin has dramatically impacted the club scene already.

Famous clubs like Ritter Butzke have been forced to shut down and the industrial Griessmuehle was forced ‘in exile’ after being evicted from its original location. Other wordly well known clubs like the scandalously sex centered Kit Kat club have been ruminated on their closure with club owners desperately seeking to raise money to save their spot in the city. Berlin would not be the same with the loss of these clubs and the techno scene. Its a ‘safe space’ of utter creative expression. It’s what makes Berlin not boring.

ESSAY: VIGNETTES ON TECHNOLOGY AND MOURNING

VI GNETTES WORDS: NINA YOUNG

ON TECHNOLOGY AND MOURNING

NINA YOUNG

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EPITAPH

Six years after Lauren disappeared and was informally declared dead, the Tuttles signed over her identiclone rights to Melinoë without the presence of a lawyer. Mr. and Mrs. Tuttle could not afford the vigils anymore, surely could not afford legal counsel. Melinoë had been their daughter’s best friend since childhood and was thus trusted with Lauren’s online legacy, or so the paperwork declared. Lauren’s social platforms, informational pages, Soundcloud, and avatars would be maintained by Mel now. Indefinitely. They couldn’t grieve any longer; eternally uploading songs to the memorialized Facebook page, watching the thoughts and prayers comments roll in. Seeing the interest in mourning Lauren slowly dwindle resembled another wave of loss itself, it was all too much for them. The cruel truth was that everyone moved on with their lives eventually.

Mel rolled over on her picnic blanket, absorbing the sun as it licked her skin and made it wet. Switching from her own accounts to Lauren’s, she reviewed the submitted Facebook posts and messages. Miss you always. You were a shining light. Mel accepted each kind submission, Lauren’s eyes gazing back from the round profile image. Mel posted heedlessly with soft touches, until one pulsing text popped up: hey beautiful :) Did you see my Date.Me message?

She blinked, stomach suddenly buzzing. The anonymous user, OURGlory579, was faceless, but still exuded a sickly, sticky energy through the virtual

conduit. Mel deleted the message and jumped over to Lauren’s dating apps, making sure each forgotten profile was paused, surprised at the reminders of notes sent after Lauren’s disappearance. Who would flirt with the dead?

Gradually shifting from distaste to boredom, she swiped open Twitter for the monthly voice memo from Lauren to her friends and followers. Selecting a song recording - Mel remembered the moment they had taped it, sitting together in the Wendy’s parking lot - she remixed the words into a new ditty, posting the blip online with Lauren’s now-predictable coda, “Lots of Love from the Otherside”. The likes streamed in.

It was a win for everyone. Those who wanted to forget Lauren was gone could still see her icon popup occasionally (but not too regularly so not to feel impersonal), thanks to Mel. Lauren’s music, her spirit, lingered, and Mel felt pride in their creation. So it was getting harder to resist replying to the trolling commenters, criticizing the sound mixing or Lauren’s pitch. A mean response from Lauren herself would be inappropriate, but … there was nothing wrong with basking in the positive energy. Mel decided to upload a tribute to their admirers with a winky face; they’d always love Lauren, if she kept them fed.

ESSAY: VIGNETTES ON TECHNOLOGY AND MOURNING

W.A.L.D.O.

The Watchpost for Aging, Lost, and Dead Omniscience started in eighth grade. Emmanuel recalled the rush of immature middle schoolers to their screens on Launch Day, searching for ammunition to bully or revel in vanity: he’d just never personally opened the application until his partner passed away.

Roger. Roger hated technology, scoffed at social media, loathed the falseness of online experience.

But - Emmanuel smiled as he scrolled across his screen to log-in - Roger did love photographs. His newly forged urn, next to their king bed, flashed a slideshow of his favorite moments: polaroid and film photographs transferred into digital form by Emmanuel’s hand posthumously. The cost had exceeded the predetermined funerary budget, but Roger wouldn’t mind too much; obviously, they never discussed W.A.L.D.O. as an additional expense, and Emmanuel had taken on a few extra night shifts to cover the monthly subscription.

Roger’s boyish, endearing passion for photography justified the use of W.A.L.D.O. That’s what Emmanuel told himself, that his love would’ve understood the need for more content, simply … more. Emmanuel logged into his account and verified, for the nth time, profile photos of his husband. Roger Blake, in a variety of facial expressions, light exposures, and ages. A drunken selfie from their wedding (he looked so handsome in a tuxedo). A college yearbook photo

of Roger frowning like a toddler. Looking over his shoulder, almost unconsciously, Emmanuel hit the search button.

As usual, the webpage oscillated rainbow colors and kaleidoscoping snowflake shapes, disintegrating and collapsing into an endless digital galaxy, before displaying the newest results. Facial Recognition c.2031 - 2034.

Strangers filtered through, standing in front of sunsets in hiking boots or huddling in a train car. Gradually, the foreground faded to shadows and the blurry faces brightened, and there Emmanuel saw him: a baby-faced Roger across from the Tour Eiffel, mostly obscured by a happy couple flashing peace signs on the Trocadéro steps. Scrolling through the images, a lump gathered in his throat, as he traced Roger’s 2032 family trip through Paris, caught in the background like a half-baked treasure hunt. He spotted his husband at cafés, tying his shoe underneath an arch, arguing with his sister (and annoying the real subject of the photograph, a sixty-something man opening an umbrella). There Roger candidly was - always the photographer, never the subject - finally revealed through the collections and memories of others, images culled from social platforms he had boycotted until his accident.

Emmanuel placed a hand on his love’s face, the screen cool, his pinky accidentally caressing the family at the center of the image. Come back.

NINA YOUNG

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DATUM MEMORIAM

The computer servers blinked their way through the evening, a moaning emerging from the trillions of lights. For a massive server room dedicated to processing inactive qubits, dormancy sure could be loud. Finn’s workspace lay in the dead space; his mustard-colored recliner rested smack dab in the middle of the compound, endless server racks retreating in half-circles. Like that spot on a foosball table - where a ball falls still and must be triggered into action - he was safe from the constant humming of the Internet Graveyard. And this was not a problem by any means. Passivity was highly encouraged by his employers, possibly even a part of his contract.

You’re not supposed to disturb the ghosts of untethered 0s and 1s.

The right cup holder of the recliner was getting increasingly dirtier and worn down as Finn ran his fat finger along the rim.

Though he could ignore the humming, the scratchy beeping was unavoidable in the data center. He tapped, rubbed, thumbed at the fabric in rhythm. Tap, tap, swish, tap, click.

If it was Morse code, it would tell him the rate of website death, the neglect of gaming avatars, the slow memorialization of Gen Y Facebook pages, and the gradual archiving of everything once alive yet intangible. But Finn didn’t have the energy to decipher the code and preferred the seeming lack of order in his job.

His tasks were simple: flip the tiny disks if they encountered a system error in the memory storage process. His Tuesday or was it Wednesday? - so far consisted of swapping out 200 disks following the atrophy of DeviantArt’s Interplanetary Fractal Community page, the 4 disks dedicated to erasing

Club Penguin’s interface once-and-for-all, and the 30 disks following censorship of the subreddit r/IdiotsFallingoffCliffs.

Whether the latter was restricted based on a lack of sensitivity or interest (unlikely), Finn didn’t care. What he did know was that the pack of deceased profiles he tackled first thing in the morning gave him one hell of a headache. The disembodied were resisting the system entirely.

An alarm startled him from an upcoming nap, alerting him to the newest disk rejection, and Finn got to his feet with a huff, his large belly bumping against the closest servers. Lumbering down Aisle 41B, he pouted, thinking back to his first teen job in Human Resources. Filing away old documents for hours on end into cabinets that were already thirty percent dust. He wondered if this work was just as futile: if an Internet archaeologist pried apart these servers for artifacts, would an imprint of his Tuesday (or Wednesday) exist in the infrastructure? He was only one person after all - nobody else wanted this job up above - so documenting him couldn’t be all that laborious. Finn licked his fingers before flipping his next disk, leaving a drop of spit behind.

POEM: RUNNING

N G U N I R N R

EN

R WO

DS

AD :J

WE PO

G

JADEN POWER

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Goodbye goodbye I am running away forever -till I can’t breathe, till my kidneys break down into little bits, till my body withers away taken by the wind into the sea where no one will find my pieces.

What if I just ran away and never came back?

When I grow old: locks of silver down to my waist, my clothes dazzling in hues of magenta, lime, olive, turquoise, tangerine.

I want to smile and have a couple teeth missing and a huge jewelry box to give my grandchildren and tell them the stories of a world before.

POEM: RUNNING

I want to keep that photograph of me tucked away, give to my friends, my children, my people, so when I go they remember me. They say this was her the girl who flew, who bristled, who danced, who laughed, who cried, who sat and watched.

Do I want children?

What if I ran like Forrest- toenails breaking, feet crippled in stress, shins slowly uprooting.

What if I never did stop?

JADEN POWER

65

Would you still be you, would you still remember me, would you still think about those days-the world-we built?

When I think back I can’t see clearly.

I can’t see the world as I used to.

I wanted and wanted and wanted and got.

Now I’m running and running and running.

Where did it go?

POEM: RUNNING

If you could have one wish what would it be?

Maybe to see the fairies once more, to kiss that person one las to dance the way you once did.

I want to run. I want to billow and blow and fall and have the gra I’m covered.

D L O H ME. W N I H T

Maybe I only lived there.

Then.

I can see every face except yours.

Is it normal to never be medium?

I’m only ever too large or too small. Eve If you wave and say hi and I stare ahead

JADEN POWER

st time,

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S S A R G Y L E N H T HE O R T E V S E A D W L U O G N IC .

Y N L O E R

ass encompass my body till

en then. d, I’m sorry I’m just only running.

ESSAY: REMEMBERING MANZANAR

WORDS: SYDNEY DEARDORFF PHOTOS: SYDNEY DEARDORFF

REMEMBERI NG MANZANAR

SYDNEY DEARDORFF

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ESSAY: REMEMBERING MANZANAR

Just off Highway 395, about one hundred miles southeast of the Yosemite valley, lies the US historical site Manzanar.

It is most infamously known as the location of an internment camp in which innocent Japanese Americans were imprisoned by the United States for the duration of WWII. However, the history of Manzanar is rife with stories of forced, often violent incidences of relocation. It is a site of reoccurring trauma, of cyclical injustices committed against numerous generations and populations. Few of us know the full history of the Owens Valley, but what we forget, the valley remembers.

In 1863 a girl prepares herself for a long walk into exile. The distance from the Owens Valley to Fort Tejon in the south stretches out before her. One hundred and seventy miles to walk, all because gold dripped from the Sierras and the Americans would stop at nothing to have it. The girl looks out over what is to be taken from her and watches as the sun begin to fall. She knows that in the morning, a gentle breeze would brush over the grasses nestled between the hills to the west, but she would not be there to cherish it. The valley’s cycles would go on without her.

Armed men of the state had reached these lands after all, and in the coming weeks they escort her and her people to their fate at gunpoint- a fate that was pushed by a pen and forged by a boot, a fate that would only be reached along a path that consisted of needless cruelty. Years later, when she returns from Fort Tejon, as many Paiute did after in the decades following their removal, the

SYDNEY DEARDORFF

valley alludes her. It becomes a destination unknown. It is contested territory, occupied by strangers, stained with the memories of suffering. Homecoming is bittersweet in the aftermath of her displacement.

The Paiute people were the original occupants of the Owens Valley. For generations, they lived in the lush meadows surrounded by towering mountains to the east and the west. They had endured the region’s dry summers and its windy winters. They prospered in its wet springs and plentiful falls. Yet political violence perpetrated by the US government culminated in the end of the Paiute occupation of the valley. The golden discovery in the Sierras was just a link in a chain of westward encroachment.

The sun slips down over the western mountains, casting an ephemeral purple across the valley floor. It sets over the land her people had called home for countless generations prior, and though it would eventually rise again, the day was done.

--In 1929 a mother looks out into the night sky. She sees the silhouettes of a few remaining trees outlined in the moonlight. The sentinels are relics from a time when the land teamed with life, when the orchards were prosperous.

Countless fruit trees once lined the streets of Manzanar, planted by the ranchers who stayed to farm the valley’s lowlands after gold prospectors had pillaged the Sierras.

71

They littered the schoolyard with apples and apricots. Her children would play in their branches and her husband would rest in their shade. Through drought and flood the trees stood tall. But while the orchards of Manzanar managed to survive God’s wrath for some years, they could not withstand Los Angeles’ unquenchable thirst.

Some days the mother feels the water draining out from underneath her feet, like it’s her own blood stolen from the veins in her arms. That life that flowed up from the table below, that which fattened the apples and cattle alike, sucked away. The water which once nourished her neighbors, her ranch and her family now flows south, into that goddamn city. Who were these men who now lay claim to the liquid below, these abstract figures so far off in the distance? With what kind of power were they endowed?

By the end of the 1920s, the city of Los Angeles had claimed ownership of the water rights of the entire Owens valley. What little was left of rivers and groundwater couldn’t sustain the few remaining families. Decades prior, settlers came the valley in search of gold, now a new generation of urban pioneers aimed to secure their own fortunes, this time at the expense of these residents of Manzanar.

The last of the apples fall to the ground that year. The seeds spill out of the rotten fruit and fail to penetrate the hard-packed desert soil. Instead they are whisked away by a dry zephyr that would grow stronger with each passing year.

ESSAY: REMEMBERING MANZANAR

SYDNEY DEARDORFF

--In 1943 a teenager is awoken to the sound of a violent wind. The first gust of the morning whips across the valley floor, bringing fresh dust into the barracks through the slats in the walls. Along with the heat and the dirt, the wind brings with it a reminder of reality. The day he is escorted into Manzanar, the moment he passes that threshold lined with men and their machine guns, he is a prisoner in his own country. His freedom had been stripped away, but was it ever really there? Though he attempts to evade such quandaries, they add weight to his back, a weight he could never cast off.

Someday illusions are easier to maintain. In his time at Manzanar he tries to have a normal life. He listens to the baseball games on the radio and shares dinner with his family each night. He goes to school on the weekdays and tends to the garden on the weekends. Yet each time the guard towers enter his periphery, a bit of his ephemeral mirage slips away. After the war concludes, he boards the train that will take him away from Manzanar, out through the gate he had entered. He passes the threshold once again. Freedom restored? When he returns to Los Angeles he is no longer a prisoner, but he is no longer the boy he once was, his youth stolen from him. His life after Manzanar includes some daily practice in the art of forgetting. And though he rarely speaks of those years in the camp, such memories attempt creep to the forefront of recollection.

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Executive order 9066 was signed by President Roosevelt in 1942, forcing over 120,000 Japanese Americans into internment camps across the country. Many from Southern California were transported to Manzanar, where they were forcibly held until the end of the war. An apology would not be issued until some 40 years later.

The Owens Valley has been practically abandoned since then. Roots are unstable in soil which has been poisoned.

Yet despite the avarice which erodes the earth drains the subterranean water, that which turns one against another, the sun still rises over Manzanar, and a new day begins once again.

ESSAY: THE KNIGHT

A KNIGHT'S CHARADE WORDS: JOCELYNE NGUYEN ILLUSTRATIONS: NINA YOUNG

JOCELYNE NGUYEN

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When I started studying the Tarot twelve months ago, I learned that each card has its own nuances in symbolism and interpretation but certain cards share similar themes.

For instance, Aces generally represent new beginnings, opportunities for success and growth. Swords signify intellect and change. What stuck out to me was the Knights — the way they go about life with such a deep sense of urgency, so willing and eager to fight for their cause without really knowing the implications of it. Their one-track minds gifted them an ability to commit to action, to change the world to fit their vision. Their youth birthed bravery and a brazen attitude. A propensity for intensity. It excites them.

Simply put, the Knights are thrill-chasers. They’ll run you to the ground for a generous serving of dopamine.

When they’re bored of whatever it is they’re chasing (this happens quite often), they move onto the next experience. And the next. And the next. It’s like mindlessly skipping through TV channels. Bouncing your leg up and down, attaching and detaching from each stimulus you encounter. Never a dull moment.

At first, I found myself jealous. I envied their undying courage, their tidal waves of unpredictability, their zest for adventure. How they effortlessly trade fear for fun, because they don’t overthink themselves into oblivion. The Knights are motivated by a lust for life — ready to take everything the world has to offer.

Soon, I had a mini-epiphany: I am exactly like them.

Well, not exactly. I am without the armor and excessive valor. But that internalized dissatisfaction which can only be remedied by extremism has its stake in my soul, too.

Binging on whatever life has to offer — love, drugs, poli-

ESSAY: TECHNO

tics, ambition, external approval — just so that inner voice could finally shut up, even if only for a moment.

Rinse and repeat. We never learn, do we?

If we did, we wouldn’t be so obsessed with the act of ‘attaching and detaching,’ pursuing what we idealize yet not truly feeling satisfied once it’s finally in our grasp. The Knight’s most intimidating adversary is the very thing that defines them; their drive and constant hunger for sensation is intertwined with a deep, core discontentment that has disguised itself in plain sight.

They spend all their days running, obeying the demands of that devilish inner voice, too concentrated on their movements to realize that they remain in the very same place.

Perhaps if they took a moment to relax their shoulders and loosen their grip on the reins, they’d see the ineffectiveness of their actions. Maybe if they just got off the horse and got a taste of stillness, they’d realize the problem laid within themselves.

If only it was that simple! When you’re so accustomed to the restlessness and adrenaline rush that comes with seeking answers outside of yourself, the thought of stillness can evoke an instinctual resistance. The riot becomes deeply missed.

It is only when the young Knight has their Tower card moment, trickling down the abyss until hitting their metaphorical rock bottom, that they are forced to confront the essence of their behavior. Their tunnel vision is pierced by a sobering dose of truth: after eternities of obeying the anxious voice that was their tour guide to life experience, they find that they were never happy. They had exhausted

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themselves with the looming pressure to act just so they could feel some fleeting sense of accomplishment.

The voice of want fades as the Knight is blanketed in the warm, subtle embrace of the Temperance card. In this moment of quietude, the armored creature finds that the true solution to their problem was in reach all along; the thought of chasing after an unattainable prize seems alien, a bit laughable even. True victory, the Knight concludes, lies in inaction, because that’s when gratitude seeps through. True victory is recognizing that there was no rat race to begin with, only the untainted beauty of existence.

To learn the wisdom of the World card is to surrender to the stillness, to take on the role of the observer amidst the chaos. To be immovable is the truest form of rebellion there is.

PHOTO ESSAY: PERPETUUM MOBILE

PERPETUUM

PHOTOS: MAYA GEE-LIM

MO BI LE

MAYA GEE-LIM

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PHOTO ESSAY: PERPETUUM MOBILE

MAYA GEE-LIM

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PHOTO ESSAY: PERPETUUM MOBILE

MAYA GEE-LIM

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PHOTO ESSAY: PERPETUUM MOBILE

STORY: THE END OF EVERYTHING

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The End of Everything

WORDS: OLIVIA LINDGREN

STORY: THE END OF EVERYTHING

Long is the way and hard, that out of Hell leads up to light.

- John Milton

OLIVIA LINDGREN

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SCREENPLAY: SUNSET CHASERS

E S N U S C H WORDS: EMILY LIU

EMILY LIU

T E

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HAS

ERS

SCREENPLAY: SUNSET CHASERS

. t In LIANA’S BEDROOM - AFTERNOON

A small, rectangular window. Through the glass, the edge of a palm frond waves back and forth in the breeze against a blue sky.

A phone VIBRATES. Panning down, we see LIANA, 20, sprawled on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, earphones in.

She’s got long hair, dark eyes, freckles--looks comfortable in her pajamas.

She reaches for her phone lying facedown next to her and flips it over.

The Facebook message reads: we’re here .

EMILY LIU

91

. t x E

SUBURBAN NEIGHBORHOOD - AFTERNOON

A small yellow car pulls up to one of the houses and waits along the street, engine idling.

A second later, the front door opens and Liana appears. She locks the door behind her and half-walks, half-runs down the driveway.

She reaches the car and pulls open the back door to a burst of joyful exclamation.

LIANA!

BRYN / MEERA

BRYN,

20, dark hair falling across his eyes, a red beanie atop his head, grins at her from the driver’s seat.

MEERA, 21, heart-shaped face framed by

curls, a pair of clear glasses perched on her nose,is sliding away to make room for Liana in the back.

Liana’s face splits into a smile.

Hey, guys.

LIANA

SCREENPLAY: SUNSET CHASERS

. t In BRYN’S CAR - MOVING - AFTERNOON

Highway flashes by outside. The afternoon sun is bright--the sunflower bobble on Bryn’s dashboard smiling serenely at them as it nods up and down.

MEERA

I can’t believe you go back in a week.

Liana just sighs, gloomy.

MEERA

Maybe next year will be the one.

LIANA

That’s what you say every year-MEERA

--and I’m still going to say it. Just think guys, we’re going to be seniors. We have to make our last year count.

LIANA

You’re actually excited to go back, aren’t you?

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BRYN

She’s crazy. But we already knew that.

Meera shrugs, grinning. Liana and Bryn share an incredulous look in the mirror.

MEERA

Lighten up, guys. We’re all going to make it whether or not we have internships this summer.

From the front, Bryn groans loudly.

BRYN

Please don’t say that word.

LIANA

I can’t wait for spring break.

MEERA

Liana, winter break isn’t even over yet.

Liana is about to answer when Bryn peers at them in the mirror.

BRYN

Where are we going, by the way?

SCREENPLAY: SUNSET CHASERS

Ext. Model Hom Afternoon

Bryn’s car pulls up and parks. They em figures-- contrasted destination of the m houses on the other They disappear into

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95

me Neighborhood-

p the sidewalk merge, three small d against the massive model r side of the street. o the nearest house.

SCREENPLAY: SUNSET CHASERS

. t In MODEL HOME - AFTERNOON

The three stand in the entranceway of a beautiful home, marveling at the view.

Liana shakes her head after a second and heads for the fridge, tossing water bottles to the other two and grabbing one for herself.

They walk down the hallway slowly, taking everything in, in no rush.

MEERA

Look at this granite...

She runs a reverent hand down the length of the sparkling white countertop.

BRYN

(joking) Well, I don’t know if that’d be my first choice. It’s a little flashy, don’t you think?

He gestures at the rest of the kitchen.

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BRYN

I think a darker granite would match the cabinets better.

MEERA

(decisive) You’re right.

In the living room, they inspect the massive painting hanging over the fireplace. It appears to feature several black squiggly lines and some scattered red dots.

LIANA

God, that’s so ugly.

Meera snickers and takes a picture for her Snapchat story. Bryn lets out an exasperated sigh as he leads them back into the hallway.

BRYN

Not all of us appreciate true artistry, obviously. It’s a very tasteful choice.

They head for the stairs, Bryn grabbing another water bottle as they pass the kitchen.

There are other spectators upstairs, a husband and wife with two young and very loud children.

All four of them cast doubting looks their way before they disappear downstairs.

SCREENPLAY: SUNSET CHASERS

Rude.

MEERA

BRYN

But probably more the target audience.

Meera gags when they enter what’s clearly meant to be a boy’s bedroom. The entire room is Batman themed, from the capital letters aggressively spelling out “GOTHAM CITY” on the wall to the Batman patterned duvet to the framed images of the night skyline.

Inexplicably, there are also several skateboards hanging incongruously above the bed, and a Minecraft creeper plush sitting on the desk.

MEERA

Two things: one, who thought this was a good idea, and two, how do I get this kind of job?

The adjoining girl’s bedroom presents similarly. Generic inspirational quotes plaster the walls; beach imagery features heavily; a world map stabbed with many pushpins is a particular highlight.

LIANA

This is the exact way my freshman year roommate decorated.

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BRYN

The one you hated? (BEAT) Wait, never mind. You’ve hated all of them.

Liana flips him off but they’re all laughing.

BRYN

Maybe the master bedroom will be better. Let’s go.

He leads the way.

LIANA

Have you been to these homes before?

You seem to know them kinda well.

Nah.

BRYN

Meera calls out from behind as they enter the room.

MEERA

He’s totally lying. He practically lives in model homes.

BRYN

Yeah, I am. Only been here once before, though. Look, I wanted to show you guys something.

He’s smiling mysteriously. Liana and Meera shoot each other a look and follow him to the

SCREENPLAY: SUNSET CHASERS

BRYN

O w l

oh p d me y. a r f a mil e’s r a f e r h a T ed. ucle b n e a h f to t p on it o t x ut, e o n o u r t e d pho t, and e dress h proppe h t ke es c d p i o l a r s p g y s to hi eftl m d o e r f h oto ch, t h a p w t en ey As th ts a differ cement. on g n i c t a l t a i s er , v extr n the rep o m e p gu f th i n o i s t k e of o c l e t r a s r u h t c o e and en fresh regs , th t e r e a p r y ed the room ca t was tak h t e r n i e on g a p Th g n i u h n i k T v d a . i l e id p so s Bryn' thing stup hey were ry is prop el home, t o some chool, as the mem dom mod n s high mer. Now er in a ra w m of su dside dra ra e e e M b na t. e. i a i e the m L i s ; t s o n in to l ide e s z m r o e e r f or th utching h f k o s. e lo hter, cl e n y o e s r g ad. s It take s with lau g out of he d n da k n i u e i o r m r h o p s th sc r o a b e t g has okin o l , e ther s d n sta n y r B

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n e h w , y l a l ' d e e w n , h O c i r l l . a e r e e r ' h r we e h t e g o t e v i l t.

u

, no n w o iet d

Me

aq n a i L nd

d

en m e e r in ag

ms e l b o te pr rough BRYN a m om o r th r e f e f v u a s rh to e e v v e a n h will a won't a n a i L eer M . n i aga chool. uild b s d d n A me b a eace. o j MEER g n odi ants in p c s i h pl uit s i q h n e a rais yn c r d nd. n B o a c d e e n s s A ou ra h o n f e e e a gr ilenc s y v ea h y l d d r it o o f n g a n 's A ayi p e LIAN There b l o I'l s , r o j ma h s i l Eng e h t I'm rse. u o c all, of

era a

SCREENPLAY: SUNSET CHASERS

MEERA

Don't be silly. We'll all pay for it together.

They all look at the picture again. Outside, the light is starting to turn a dark gold.

AGENT

(muffled, from downstairs) The model home will be closing in five minutes! We ask that all visitors please find their way out within that time! Thank you for visiting!

The sound pierces the silence, breaking their reverie. Without another word, they trudge out of the room and down the spiral stairs, through the empty shining halls and out the door. The lights click off one by one behind them.

. t x E MODEL HOME NEIGHBORHOOD - LATE AFTERNOON

They're standing just outside the house and about to head back to the car, when Bryn casts a look back and something makes him pause.

Wait, guys.

BRYN

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Liana and Meera follow him as he walks over to the plumeria shrubs lining either side of the house.

As they watch, he takes a pair of scissors from his pocket and carefully clips a blossom from its branch.

He cups it protectively in his hand, and they all gather around and stare at it. It’s beautiful: bright yellow radiating from the center like a miniature sun, soft pink tinging the outsides of the petals like the plumeria is blushing.

After a second, Bryn lets out a little longing sigh, almost imperceptible.

SCREENPLAY: SUNSET CHASERS

Liana: (quietly) Ready?

Bryn: ...Yeah.

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They've only taken a few steps back towards the car when the wind picks up---and the plumeria is lifted away out of Bryn's hands before their eyes, too quickly for him to catch.

They stand there for a moment, squinting, trying to trace its path through the air. But it's already gone.

Do you want to...?

MEERA

She gestures back at the shrubs.

Bryn shakes his head slowly, and they walk in silence back to the car. As soon as the doors shut, they pull away.

. t x E ROOFTOP PARKING LOT - SUNSET

The car pulls up on the rooftop level of a parking lot.

The sky is already burning, that deep characteristic glow suffusing the air. The entire expanse of sky blazes red and orange and golden, shad-

SCREENPLAY: SUNSET CHASERS

of t n i h da

es t n i u at q

th

an o g i d p in hed s e a e d w th de, i s t to u ed wi l blue. r o e v p o e a alk d st w n all. a y senti w e s r e h o T h e do ant light. against t h t n No n pe br i a o v e l y o e e e d h Th ep in t f an h t o y l t o d r n n all a ky blaze insta ge of the m e d g th ng the s r them. n i h the e c S wat , watchi ove , y l n l a w u o p d d ok ok u fall gra s o o l l y y e e s h h s t T ne k ow; r l a e d b il of ple e v e h A MEER and t sic. u yn r m B e . y m pla er� o d so v t e o t e L a t n t wh “Sunse We u Br o b a n tion d puts o s e d u q n o a n e n 's a as There ut his pho e c a o e sp h other, d i pulls it Biscuit. w ac the t e e n i g P n y i y l i b has inn t c s p e o cho he rooft e g n t o The s un around eaming. r they r ng and sc i A LIAN laugh a) r e e to M , ge s d s e e l l h t the o t ( brea dare you. n o cht y l a i c s I lum r, breath c Hey. d n lly a in the ai u f e r ca le g s n b a m d i l t She c ts her fee and le ittle. l ing a

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A MEER

igh h , e w at are

h W . y a ow

BRYN

rs? e l o o sch sn't a w l hoo

h sc g i H re? a e w t if a h w So d.

A so ba MEER ey h as.

T w . y a l ian nite L i us f s o e n v i r d o t e j i Oh, and ’re both n r e h ey s at h t e y e e r his befo s l l e t o r u in ryn m a t wn. s o a d l t g ’ blin don m a r c s BRYN d n a en. h t t u bo a k n i o th t s s e Lot l

k s u d y l r e p o r p y s ' e t h t I d n , a t , e i w u o q n o t n i e l t set

SCREENPLAY: SUNSET CHASERS

shivering as they lean on the wall and stare out over the darkening landscape of their childhood.

MEERA

I don't want to go back.

Liana and Bryn start in surprise, stare at her.

You don't?

LIANA

MEERA

Not really. You guys know, I love college. I'm having a good time, I really am.

But sometimes it just feels like--what is it all for?

BRYN

(quietly) Like, what are we even doing with our lives?

LIANA

And what's going to happen to us after.

MEERA

Exactly. (BEAT) You know what I learned in this one psych class? Our high school and college years, these years right now, are the most memorable times of our lives.

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best years of our lives, forever.

The implications of this sink in.

BRYN

So we all peak at 21.

Nobody can argue with that.

LIANA

I just don't understand... how it all passed by so quickly. I don't get how anybody knows what they're doing next.

BRYN

Hey. It's all going to be okay.

LIANA

You really think so?

BRYN

If we only have a year left, we can't let it be otherwise. It's like Meera said earlier.

He looks at her pointedly. She's still pensive, but she manages a tired smile.

MEERA

We have to make it count.

Liana loops an arm around her, Bryn doing the

SCREENPLAY: SUNSET CHASERS

same on the other side, and they let the night fall around them-- questioning, wondering, existing.

When the sky is nearly black, Meera’s phone vibrates. She sighs without even glancing down.

MEERA

I gotta get home for dinner.

Liana and Bryn grunt in acknowledgment.

After another minute, they walk over to the car slowly and get in, lingering.

Bryn puts on “Sunset Lover” again, and they sit there as it plays at full volume, the rhythmic, almost hypnotic beats pulsing through the air, on and on and on, like footsteps.

FADE OUT. THE END.

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Cam Vernali, Nina Young, Phoebe Green, Lizzy Tomney, Judy Vallette, Jocelyne Nguyen, Sydney Deardorff, Jaden Power, Maya Gee Lim, Olivia Lindgren, Emily Liu