Manifesta: 1) Good, passionate music/art CAN save lives. 2) Everyone’s art, writing, and music deserves to be heard/seen/read at least once. 3) We have the right to be heard Fuck Censorship!! 4) We have the right to create our OWN STORY on OUR terms. 5) We refuse to accept corporate, sensationalist, exploitative BULLSHIT as music. 6) We refuse to tolerate bullshit like sexism, homophobia, prejudice, or oppression in art/music. 7) We want to be provocative, controversial, and LOUD. 8) We want autonomy over our minds, bodies, and thoughts. [Propaganda is a lie.] NO COMPROMISE. NO SURRENDER. NO FUCKING SHIT. CONTRIBUTORS: EDITOR, Jenn Endless – inspired by Naked Lunch, Bully (the band), Robert Frank’s photos, Edo-period Japanese prints, Lester Bangs, Weezer, Sailor Moon, Willem de Kooning and Just Kids. Anita Static – inspired by empty whiskey bottles, burlesque, drag queens, old skateboard videos, horror manga, sex, lingerie, punk, makeup, bodily fluids and female villains. Saku Egon Evon – The Cure, Dir en Grey, black blouses, monochromatic outfits, coffee, bats, baking cakes, black-and-white photography and 日本語.
sueño i woke up with the sound of his voice yelling in my head, “there is no fucking reason!” over and over and over again. in the dream the rest of us huddled upstairs until the rant was over, until i finally decided to stand up for myself and walked down the stairs. i turn the corner into the kitchen and find him sitting at the table silently with a voice recorder, listening to himself yell those words over and over and over again. i try to look at all the times i’ve been awful, knowing i shouldn’t apologize for self-preservation, but then remember how small that voice has made me feel, how miles away i still cower in my bed when the late morning light peeks through the windows, his voice reverberating in my head. how i can sit in another continent and get drunk with friends and still cry without knowing why. i wonder what those words mean - “there is no fucking reason” to fuck up and learn from mistakes because there isn’t any point to living anyway? i halfheartedly say it’s too late. that despite him listening to how bitter he sounds for the first time, i’ve already moved on and away. it’s not my deal to go find him when he carelessly misplaced me.
SLEEZE “LAW OF ATTRACTION” IN EXACTLY 666 WORDS Sleeze from Rockford, IL have released their second album, “Law of Attraction” and they’ve hit the road, coming to a sleazy venue somewhere in the USA near you. The band – Isaac Hare on vocals, Micah Watz on lead guitar, Bruce Eklove on bass and Josh Huston on drums – are kinda metal, kinda grunge but mostly like sewer mutant hookers strung out on piles of botched cocaine. Their songs are rock n’ roll a little fucked up like it should be – not cliché or some immaculate suburban grindcore kids who bitch about how they hate their parents in guttural screams but an ode to all the roaches and winos in the streets. On “Law of Attraction” the band returns much faster than on their self-titled “Sleeze”, which with its chugging and cathartic rhythms evokes the sludge of Stoner-Witch era Melvins and definitely deserves a listen. Almost two years after their first release with singles like “They Saved Hitler’s Brain” (“They saved Hitler’s brain/In a shot of lemonade/That’s why we’re all insane”), the new record’s technical approach has its blast beats and thrash moments. A Slayer-like aesthetic erupts from the speakers on tracks like, “Rollin’ Dice with the Devil” before a bridge cuts into the chaos with a guitar saturated in fluid, watery effects. The four Sleeze guys write metal without the fucking fairy-shit and elf-gimmicks because they’ve spent the last six years of their lives starving on rock n’ roll and crawling through the black shit-hole underworld of Rockford, IL with all its grime and streets filled with foreclosed homes where the only remnant of its long-dead manufacturing industry is the polluted river. On the track, “Soul Dripp,” Hare asks, “Your life is just a state of mind/So what will you leave behind?” His voice isn’t so much a guttural scream as the raspy voice of a blues singer, recounting stories of all the neglected punk kids and dimly-lit DIY spaces he’s seen. On the track “Telepathic Sexxx” Hare screams, “My mind no longer is mine,” and you know like the one track says, the band’s been “Rollin’ Dice with the Devil” (the kind of devil – hookers, stimulants, etc. is up to interpretation) but the dual vocals on tracks such as “Perfect Blur” seem like a haunted mansion – a little nauseating but still propelling you forward through the creatures on acid to see what’s inside. For a group of four guys and only ONE guitar, they produce a lot of fucking noise – Hare’s vocal makes a (probably) small recording studio a cavernous mansion room, followed by the simultaneous screech and chugging of Watz’s guitar. Hare’s vocal grabs at you like a decrepit, homeless man standing in subzero temperatures without gloves; he stands in your path until you relent and listen to him. The tight instrumentation of Eklove’s bass, Huston’s drums and Watz’s guitar clash with the gasping shouts of Hare who’s standing at front stage with chaotic notes bouncing off the walls, and he’s in the middle – demanding your attention. “I am the slug that tries to crawl/You are the song that pours out the pain,” sings Hare in “Channel the Rat,” and the song wakes up this sense of being a junkie in the street who’s only got himself to blame until a band or a friend starts to give him purpose. The feeling hangs fleetingly over the audience, but they’re not able to grasp it, and maybe that’s the point. On the final track, “Top of the Valley” Hare’s deep, consuming vocal, clean on this track, with a background vocal and acoustic guitars, paints the image of a frontman sitting hunched over in a cheap plastic chair in dim lights, trapped on the cusp of some new revelation – and the song evokes Alice in Chains’ Unplugged performance, which was one of their last. Throughout the record, they prove they’re a dynamic band – not just stoners, not speed freaks but though changing the rhythms and sometimes turning off the distortion, they never lose that gritty aesthetic. [SLEEZE ON TOUR ^ CHECK OUT REVERBNATION —> www.reverbnation.com/sleezey69]
DECLINE OF WESTERN CIVILIZATION New York City in 1967, Patti Smith showed up without any money and spent a couple weeks bumming around Washington Square Park before she ran into Robert Mapplethorpe – they were each other’s muse and moved into a place together in Brooklyn, struggling on a meager paycheck to create the art that begged to leave their heads. Nine years later, Lester Bangs left Detroit’s Creem in 1976 and lived on 14th and 6th Avenue at a flat above the Gum Joy Restaurant, a Chinese take-out place – by that time, he was already a well-known rock writer. New York was still seedy – somewhere between the drugged out cafeterias and cafés of the Beat Generation’s 42nd Street and the gentrified, totally unexciting tourist mass that is Manhattan today. Times Square was the Red Light district of New York filled with hookers, hustlers and peep shows. Smith knew several of the hustlers who traded sex for drugs and lingered around 42nd Street – always neurotic about money, Mapplethorpe earned some money on the side this way. The late-night cafeterias still ran through the entire night, just like they did in Kerouac’s time. Bangs and Smith both were inspired by the Beat Writers, interested in the seedy places and deviant people of the world (although Smith’s drug intake was miles behind Bang’s consumption). Bangs first discovered Smith when she sent an article about the Rolling Stones to Creem in Detroit, and now that punk was picking up they both hung around CBGB. But New York was dangerous – at Bang’s place a seedy guy made a pass at Bangs’ girl, trying to inject a drug into her drink, but failed. During a night in the East Village, soon after their first move into Manhattan from Brooklyn, a body slumped up against Smith’s and Mapplethorpe’s door, and the police told them to keep the door shut for the night. Next morning, they found an old-school chalk line scratched into the wooden floor. Driven out of the East Village, Smith and Mapplethorpe spent a short time at a flophouse inhabited by morphine fiends before convincing the owner of Hotel Chelsea on 23rd Street to lend them the keys to a room – the hotel’s lobby was the center of the city’s art and music scene. Everybody lived there, and touring musicians in New York paid a visit. The CBGB on Bleeker Street was a dimly lit room with a bar serving beer on one side, chairs on the other and a stage in the back. The bands that played their – the Ramones, Talking Heads, Television – invented the visceral noise called punk. The room was packed with loud kids – but they weren’t the leather-clad punks of England. The New York City punk aesthetic was about running around and having a good time – not politics. William Burroughs lived not-to-far away from CBGB on in a loft he called, “the Bunker.” The political thread arrived when the Sex Pistols invaded America in 1978 bassist, Sid Vicious moved into the Hotel Chelsea with girlfriend/groupie They were frequented by visitors such as Johnny Rotten, Polly Styrene and Everyone knows the story of Sid & Nancy – Nancy shows up dead one morning assumed drug deal gone bad and Vicious overdoses a short time later, so I much time with it here.
– their Nancy Spungen. drug dealers. after an won’t waste too
After the Sid and Nancy deal, Bangs withdrew from the punk scene and became reclusive in his flat above the Gum Joy Restaurant. He was disillusioned with the righteous image of punk – especially since he’d watched a fan get beat up in England while all four members of the Clash stood by and did nothing. Initially friends, Smith and Bangs stopped talking after his negative review of Smith’s second album, “Radio Ethiopia.” Smith herself eventually left New York and moved to Detroit, the same rock & literary scene Bangs had left after he’d outgrown Creem. Bangs, after a short stint sober, overdosed on pills & was found dead on 30 April, 1982. After the artists left (or were kicked out), then the story ended – a Republican mayor, Rudy Giuliani, and his police force gentrified the fuck out of Manhattan. It’s his face, and not Burroughs, Smith’s or Bangs’ that we now see plastered across the city’s face.
“He decided that punk represented the children of the Velvets making the music of buzzing hazes and unconventional beauty that he’d been advocating since… 1969.” ~ Let It Blurt. 1) The Ramones – “Blitzkrieg Bop” (1976) 2) Blondie – “Atomic” (1980) 3) Talking Heads – “Psycho Killer” (“Qu’est-ce que c’est?”)(1977) 4) Sex Pistols – “God Save the Queen” (1977) 5) Television – “Marquee Moon” (1977) 6) The Voidoids – “Blank Generation” (1977) 7) The Clash – “London Calling” (1979) 8) Patti Smith – “Piss Factory” (1974) 9) New York Dolls – “Trash” (1973) 10) The Stooges – “Search and Destroy” (1973) 11) The Runaways – “Cherry Bomb” (1976) 12) X-Ray Spex – “I am a Poseur” (1978)
punk rock at the Chelsea hotel sometime in the ‘70s.
[last two pages inspired by Let it Blurt by Jim DeRogatis & Just Kids by Patti Smith].
“UNSANITARY CONDITION” The Work of Shintaro Kago His style described as “fashionable paranoia”, guro manga artist Shintaro Kago is known for touching and exploring taboo topics such as extreme sex, body modification, scatology, and rape in order to help emphasize his works hidden satirical overtones. While constantly experimenting with the image of eroticism and decadence, he also is effortlessly able to incorporate enough black humor to the point that makes you question if you’re laughing because the story plot is all too ridiculous or you’re laughing to catch a break from how depressingly well it relates to our own society.
As a self-proclaimed kisou mangaka (which translates to bizarre manga artist) Shintaro has separated himself from other artists by approaching the very common “copy and paste format” that is used in most manga by constantly breaking the fourth wall and unapologetically rearranging the panels themselves to create a solitary art piece of its own. If you can stomach the sight of gore, genitals and suicide, definitely sit down and read one of his many works. Struggling to make sense of all the strange and twisted being thrown at you, each of his endings always offer a closure and something to keep you thinking up at night.
Earth Day 2015: Nature is cool, so give a fuck about it. 11 things to make the Earth a little better… ☑ ☑ ☑ ☑ ☑ ☑ ☑ ☑ ☑ ☑ ☑
purchase reusable shopping bags & remember to use them plant a garden/tree/flowers around your living space take mass transit or ride a bike to work & school use reusable bottles for water (but don’t reuse disposable bottles!) don’t throw away/waste food, buy organic & visit farmer’s markets eat more plant-based food (more grain is fed to livestock than people!) take recycling seriously (cardboard, glass, plastic, paper, metal cans) conserve water (short showers, turn off faucet while brushing teeth) turn off lights and unplug electronic devices when not being used cook from scratch & eat less processed foods (saves resources & healthy) get involved with a marine/wildlife conservation project (www.frontier-usa.org)
Bully at FRZN Fest at High Noon Saloon, Madison, WI – 18 January I first heard about the band Bully from a NME article predicting the up-and-coming bands of 2015, so I went to check out their single, “Milkman” and immediately went to visit their tour schedule – a show at the High Noon Saloon on a Sunday. They were hosting a FRZN fest that wasn’t really frozen. The temperature was barely below freezing. I showed up late just to see the opening band close their set, so I waited outside with a cigarette for Bully to take the stage. Their lead singer, Alicia Bognanno steps out onto stage in a gray sweatshirt and jeans with long, bleached hair and with her other band-mates Stewart (drums), Clayton (guitar) and Reece (bass). With her silver jaguar, Bognanno launches into the first song. The crunchy bass jumps in and really starts to drive the song with the other guitar adding shoegaze-like, energetic riffs. Bognanno’s guitar is the rhythmic hook of the songs and her voice is sweet, lilting with moments of grit at the climax of the choruses. Some songs are short, punk-rock pieces and less than two minutes long, but they had the hooks that could get the head bobbing up and down. The band played through their Bully EP set and added new tunes from their recently recorded full-length, which is due to be released this spring, and their entire set lasted somewhere between 30 and 40 minutes. On stage between songs, Bognanno shares anecdotes about band life while tuning her guitar. They had been in Minneapolis the night before and Chicago the night before that. For some reason they went all the way to Minnesota and found their way back to Madison tonight, and they had a ten hour drive that night to Kentucky. She stops short, saying something about her family in Minnesota, rolls her eyes and says “okay you guys [band] can start.” Between two other songs, she talks about touring with the Cloud Nothings, which she says were awesome and laughs, saying there are “a lot of awesome bands on the bill for the FRZN fest.” After the set, I walked nervously up to the merch table and started a conversation with the price of band buttons (free) and a CD version of their EP ($5.00). I remembered reading that she had interned with Steve Albini in Chicago, and she talked about his rad studio setup and how helpful he was as a mentor. I asked her if she went to school in Chicago, but found out she’d actually gotten her BS in audio engineering in Nashville. I (stupidly) assumed that she’d had some help from Albini recording the demo, and asked whether or not he wanted his name on the EP. She’d recorded it herself, though. If you think about it… instead of saying, “I recorded my record with Steve Albini,” Bognanno can say “I learned some things from Albini and recorded my OWN EP.” That’s infinitely cooler. She was really nice, answering all my questions, so I asked more. They have another up-and-coming tour in the United States, but she said there’s a possibility the band might be going to Europe in the summer. I used to live in Europe, and she asked where: Bordeaux, France. She just finished recording their full-length, and right now, it’s in the process of getting mastered. I finished up the conversation with asking if they were signed. They’d just been added to the roster of Columbia subsidiary (forgot the name). I picked up my copy of the Bully EP and was confused because this copy seemed to be missing “Milkman”, but listened to it on repeat on the hour-long drive home, the warm tone of the fuzz making the chilly drive home bearable, and I remembered that I didn’t have to drive 8 hours to Kentucky that night.
pastel ladies.
Know your (indie) record producers & labels. (to keep the major label dinosaurs away)
PEOPLE Paul Q. Kolderie – Hole “Live Through This,” Belly “Moon,” Radiohead “Pablo Honey,” Pixies “Surfer Rosa,” Speedy Ortiz “Real Hair EP.” Steve Albini – Nirvana “In Utero,” the Pixies “Surfer Rosa,” the Breeders “Pod,” PJ Harvey “Rid of Me,” Cloud Nothings “Attack on Memory.” Butch Vig – Nirvana “Nevermind,” The Smashing Pumpkins “Gish,” Sonic Youth “Dirty,” Garbage “Garbage.” Jack Endino – Mudhoney “Superfuzz Bigmuff,” Nirvana “Bleach,” Babes in Toyland “Spanking Machine,” Seven Year Bitch “Viva Zapata.” Gil Norton – Pixies “Doolittle,” Pale Saints “The Comforts of Madness,” The Distillers “Coral Fang.”
LABELS Sub Pop – Seattle, WA, formed in 1988 and associated with ‘90s grunge Bands: Nirvana, Mudhoney, Soundgarden, 10 Minute Warning, Babes in Toyland, L7 4AD – London, UK, formed in 1980 and associated with shoegaze/brit pop. Bands: Pixies, Blonde Redhead, the Breeders, Lush, Pale Saints, Belly, Cocteau Twins Kill Rock Stars – Portland, OR, formed in 1991 and associated with Riot Grrrl Bands: Bikini Kill, Elliot Smith, Sleater-Kinney, Bratmobile, Mary Lou Lord K Records – Olympia, WA, formed in 1982 and brought indie rock to WA. Bands: Beat Happening, the Melvins, Pansy Division, Shonen Knife, The Go Team Matador Records – New York City, NY formed in 1989 and brought us “lo-fi” Bands: Pavement, Liz Phair, Cat Power, Queens of the Stone Age, Helium Touch & Go Records – Chicago, IL, formed in 1981 and associated with noise Bands: Butthole Surfers, Big Black, the Jesus Lizard, Scratch Acid, Killdozer
“They say women don’t play guitar as well as men. I don’t play guitar with my fucking vagina, so what difference does it make?” ~ Brody Dalle. (happy international women’s day!) 1) Hole – “Gutless” (Live Through This, 1994) 2) Babes in Toyland – “Handsome & Gretel” (Fontanelle, 1992) 3) L7 – “Pretend We’re Dead” (Bricks Are Heavy, 1992) 4) Bikini Kill – “Rebel Girl” (Pussy Whipped, 1993) 5) The Raincoats – “Lola” (s/t, 1979) 6) X-ray Spex – “Obsessed with You” (Germfree Adolescents, 1978) 7) 7 Year Bitch – “8-ball Deluxe” (Sick ‘Em, 1992) 8) The Gits – “While You’re Twisting, I’m Still Breathing” (Frenching the Bully, 1992) 9) Cherry Glazerr – “Bloody Bandaid” (Papa Cremp, 2013) 10) The Distillers – “Young Crazed Peeling” (Sing Sing Death House, 2001) 11) Speedy Ortiz – “Raising the Skate” (Foil Deer, 2015) 12) Perfect Pussy – Driver (Say Yes to Love, 2014) 13) Bully – Poetic Trash (Bully EP, 2013) 14) Sleater-Kinney – Call the Doctor (Call the Doctor, 1996) 15) Saffron – Alec Baldwin (Saffron EP, 2014) 16) Wolf Alice – Moaning Lisa Smile (Creature Songs, 2014) [SAFFRON FROM EUGENE, OR SEE THEM LATER IN THIS ISSUE. PHOTO BY MABLE]
“ROCK N’ ROLL LIKE THE GUYS” [“THE ARTICLE THAT GOT REJECTED BY LIZ PELLY’S HIP PUBLICATION”] My generation is that strange one, born between ’88 and ’93. If I don’t know the answer to something, I can find it online, but I still remember VHS tapes and cassettes [analog]. Streaming music is “easier” than going to the record store and picking up an album, but the internet is feeding our sense of entitlement. My friend, Anita, and I created our own art & subculture zine, but other writers are attracted to the romantic idea of writing like Hunter S. Thompson without putting pen to paper. There’s the band mate that drags on about their dreams of record deals without actually picking their guitar up and practicing. (Good) art is sweaty work – some inspiration but mostly long, solitary hours of introspection and reading near a typewriter. Nobody wants a lazy bandmate or writer, the same way no girl needs a self-entitled guy around her. All girls know what it’s like to be at a punk show. As the girl in the band, guys walking up after the show can freak me out (especially unsolicited hugs). I know him through mutual friends (we’ve hardly spoken), and he walks up and asks me about my music taste. I wonder if the time to let him know I won’t sleep with him is now - he might be pissed. He’s pretty flirty, but I always have to be wary. “No” works in theory, but in practice he might not pay attention. We like the same bands, right? As if that cements our soulmate status. If you don’t exert the effort to learn & grow, why should I call you an artist? If you don’t exert the effort to get to know me (and gain my trust) why should I pay attention? My bandmates, Nic & Kye, took a while to find because being a girl finding guy musicians is a struggle. I have to somehow figure out whether or not the guy loves music or thinks he has a “brilliant” plan to get laid. When I ask you if you want to be in my band, I mean grab an instrument and play music. No trickery. I want to get to know a guy after a good show and drinks without worrying about whether or not I’ll be assaulted or have beer bottles thrown at me for refusing his threesome. Finding the capital of Kazakhstan (Astana) is easy online, but is my friendship/affection also supposed to be that easy? Anita and I write our own zine because we need a space where girls can talk about rock music and our voices aren’t censored. We write about sex, whiskey and rock n’ roll because those things don’t only belong to guys. I’ll write about my band mates and friends or the creepy guys at shows in exactly the kind of language that I want. We’re not interested in whether or not it’s “lady-like.” At Pitchfork Fest, I stood front row and Perfect Pussy was on stage. The music blared but still couldn’t drown out the jerks behind me talking about Meredith Graves’ body. I used the pit as an excuse to get a couple hits, but the girl onstage is still put down because some guys are probably feeling inadequate next to another artist who happens to be a girl. Between living the image of artist and shaming girls for discourse about their bodies and art, my advice for guys is to stop bitching (especially if they only attend the shows). Despite progress in sexual equality in music, some art is still labeled “some girl’s.” I still know guys who will never listen to Speedy Ortiz, Perfect Pussy or Cherry Glazerr because “girls don’t belong in rock bands.” I don’t want the only place for my art to be a “safe,” progressive scene. Why is Courtney Love a “crazy bitch” and Kurt Cobain a “tortured genius?” Girls don’t owe guys an apology for trying out their world. When can girls play rock n’ roll, cuss and drink like the guys? Respect that girl onstage because she & her band put an album out there, and that’s more than the creepy show guy or stoned festival jerk can say.
you wake over rain the color of cold mornings under covers a cotton sea of blue & green lying besides hips scraps of ache I have— you have nothing to say we are learning to love with paper necks * saku egon evon
I’M A LITTLE LATE TO THE GAME, BUT THE PIXIES’ “INDIE CINDY” FUCKING ROCKS. Those bands that come back with a new record, the first in two whole decades, want to get back to those days when they mattered (or made some money). Most of these albums are hallow shells of suck, but after 22 years, the Pixies finally spit out “Indie Cindy” to be ripped apart by everyone who grovels at the feet of their first record “Surfer Rosa” (4AD, 1988), and at the very least, it IS worth the plastic it’s printed on. Now that the hype surrounding bands inspired by the Pixies has died in some way (Weezer, Radiohead, Nirvana) we can talk about the Pixies in their own world, instead of their relation to everyone else (this allusion to all those people who say, “The Pixies… yeah I know them. Kurt Cobain liked them right?”). For “Indie Cindy” Black Francis (singer/songwriter/guitarist), Joey Santiago (guitar) & David Lovering (drums) returned to the studio for the first time without Kim Deal. She’s probably busy somewhere with the Breeders (you know “Cannonball” right?). Besides, Francis is known as the front man tyrant. Still, something’s missing from this record without Deal – in some ways the track, “Gigantic” made “Surfer Rosa” the record it was. Anyway, Deal’s gone and she’s been replaced at live shows by Kim Shattuck (the Muffs) and other girl bassists. Gil Norton (The Distillers, Pale Saints) returns to record number five, and besides “Surfer Rosa,” produced by Steve Albini, Norton has been the Pixies trusted man for all their albums since. Twenty-two years, that’s enough time to fuck and make a baby, get tired of it, and then kick it out of the house, but despite those years, “Indie Cindy” isn’t the decaying, pathetic breath of old men. The band switches rhythms & effects up, giving us a record of 12 distinct songs, but the instrumentation IS louder and washes out the nuances of noise the Pixies are known for, which is probably some pandering to the “digital music age.” The album begins with a heavy, distorted riff and Francis’ scream on the track, “What goes Boom.” The feedback and screeching guitar lines fade into track two “Green & Blues,” with moments of psychedelic and watery lead guitar lines, drenched in reverb and evoking “Debaser” off their album “Doolittle” (1990). The lyrics don’t follow one theme, and like past albums, come from different places: girlfriends, philosophical thought and sometimes just plays on words with a catchy sound. The title track, “Indie Cindy” evokes a jarring atmosphere with its dissonant chords, strange time measures & Francis’ shouts. The lyrics are facetious and mocking, “you put the cock in cocktail, man” & “No soul my milk is curdled/I’m the burger-meister of purgatory.” The Pixies kept the “loud-soft-loud” dynamics they crafted in the late ‘80s. The songs switch between Francis’ shouts & whimsical vocal lines and between clean & distorted riffs. The standout tracks on the album are those that express some longing or misunderstanding by someone Francis wants to love. “I went down deep in her hive/One year just turned into five,” he sings in “Magdalena 318” followed by the gritty, one chord riff in the verse and an undercurrent of fuzz – you feel as if in a tunnel where cryptic symbols and messages glow in the dark on the walls, trying to point your way. Then, the celestial images of “Andro Queen” are like an ephemeral dream that only lasts the track’s 3 ½ minute span, “Loving on our bed of flowers/Breathing in the smell of her musk.” Francis even throws some Esperanto phrases in the bridge (yes, that constructed language almost no one speaks). Between distorted riffs on tracks such as, “Another Toe in the Ocean” and “Blue Eyed Hexe,” the reverb and sustain on “Silver Snail” and the lyrics about a snake invasion in “Snakes” and a Mexican matador in “Jaime Bravo,” the Pixies wrote an album that’s still whimsical and assertive, loud and soft.
Viewers watch the “Legend of Korra”, and the first thing they’re struck by is the vivid animation from Seoul’s Studio Mir (“the Boondocks”). Each episode is drawn up in traditional animation – frame after frame sketched by hand – and takes 10 – 12 months to complete. The early jazz and traditional Chinese music on the soundtrack are a mélange of two worlds – China and America. Bryan Konietzko and Michael DiMartino (“Avatar: The Last Airbender”) created a show that is deeper than its colorful backdrops, though. “Korra” is significant for viewers, especially youth, because it addresses the social issues of our time and doesn’t feed us plot-less drool (yes, here’s my dig at reality TV). In their fictional universe where characters can “bend” the four classical elements, led by the avatar who can “bend” all four, Korra is thrust into a rapidly-modernizing world plagued by social and political unrest – where she, as a girl, is the main protagonist (not to mention a not-white girl). Take a minute to appreciate how important that last statement is – almost every animated show in the US features a main protagonist who is male with a girl maybe serving as “sidekick.” On the other hand, Japan’s got a slew of girl-centered anime such as “Sailor Moon.” The animation director Yoo Jae-Myung from Studio Mir said that Nickelodeon initially suspended the “Legend of Korra” because the protagonist was a girl. “It’s rare having a heroine, right?” he says. Yeah heroines are disappointingly rare, but the series finale of the “Legend of Korra” – 52 episodes after the creators and animators received their “go” from the network – ends with three girls: the main protagonist Korra, her friend Asami Sato and the main antagonist Kuvira. In the final season of the show, Korra confronts physical and psychological injuries from the previous season while saving her world from power-hungry Kuvira, hell bent on military domination. The final episode, “The Last Stand” features the final battle between Kuvira and Korra who ultimately triumphs, forcing Kuvira to concede defeat. The fate of the world is up to two girls to decide… In the final scene of the series, Korra and her friend Asami leave through a spirit portal (entrance to the spirit world). As the scene fades out in golden light, the two face each other, holding hands. The moment is subtle, but a nod to the show’s willingness to delve into social issues – race, gender and in its last moments sexuality. This scene coming after the English dub of “Sailor Moon” which re-writes the romantic relationship of Sailors Uranus and Neptune as cousins means that the US might be coming around – like… queer people aren’t some fucking social taboo. Both characters had a previous relationship with the show’s Mr. Dark-and-Mysterious, Mako (David Faustino – “Married… with Children”) but ultimately end up together. By not making Korra or Asami explicitly “gay,” DiMartino and Konietzko illustrate sexual identities (example “bisexual”) beyond just “gay” or “straight.” With the popularity of the show extending way beyond its age bracket and its positive reviews (despite being knocked off network TV), “Korra” shows we’re ready to accept that “queer AND girl AND non-conforming are okay.” The show evokes the story-telling of Hayao Miyazaki’s work (“Kiki’s Delivery Service” and “Princess Mononoke”), which tackles issues of human interference with nature, feminism and maintaining balance in the world. Like much of Miyazaki’s work, the protagonists in “Korra” are young girls looking for their place in the world and, just in the last season, Korra faces a tyranny from Kuvira’s army and destruction of nature, when the army begins cutting down an ancient forest to harvest resources. We’re always telling kids (and even adults) they don’t need to know about the social/political unrest in their world, but the popularity of the “Legend of Korra” shows us that people are willing to listen (or watch meaningful TV shows).
GARY SNYDER AT COLUMBIA COLLEGE CHICAGO, 19 MARCH Gary Snyder, poet with the San Francisco Renaissance and “Japhy Ryder” from Kerouac’s “Dharma Bums,” had a reading on Michigan Ave. at Columbia College Chicago – out of a seemingly small man came a deep voice. He’s gotta be almost 90 years old but still gets up with a spade and tends his garden at his off-the-grid house. He’s a poet that goes back to “Paleolithic Times,” attempting to find a place between the wilds and civilization – he’s a self-proclaimed eco and ethno-poet. In between reading, Snyder added political commentary – stopping between two poems to make a remark about the media’s poor portrayal of wildfires in California – they don’t say that some fires burn chaparral & juniper, necessary to the Earth’s ecological processes. “Main thing is don’t build your house there.” He re-visited some of his earlier poems from books like “Riprap” and “Turtle Island.” Snyder chose one poem, “For the Children,” and the final lines linger in the air, “stay together/learn the flowers/go light.” On one trip to the Aleutian Islands, Snyder asked native high schoolers about their interpretations of the lines; they said, “know your ancestors/understand nature/don’t waste gas.” From the book, “Mountains and Rivers without End,” Snyder explained that he’d been working on the book, inspired by 60-70 foot Chinese scroll paintings for the last 40 years. Remember the part of “Dharma Bums” where Japhy Ryder excitedly explains to Kerouac’s character that he wants to write a long poem, inspired by Chinese paintings with anecdotes about ecology & Buddhism? Some of that shit Kerouac wrote was true. A poem in the book called “Earth Verse” described his trek across the remote, western deserts of Western Australia. “Wild enough to keep you looking/old enough to give you dreams.” Snyder didn’t linger on old poems, though and moved on to his new manuscript. Snyder admitted to experimenting more with form, and expanding upon the environmental message. In “A letter to M.A. who lives faraway” he gives advice to a young fan about writing poetry, “poetry is from a shapeless form/the original face/the Zen Buddhists say.” His simple language created a brown-and-green, earthenware world. In one poem, “Why California will never be Tuscany,” Snyder juxtaposes the old, stone houses & families that have dwelled in Italy for centuries with the wooden houses of California and the lack of “stone mansions for wealthy Melanesian, Eskimo artists/oak and pine will soon return. The poem ends, “Pick up a hoe, let your people go!” a succinct argument against this country’s history of colonialization. The poems moved between the political and an ode to one of Snyder’s favorite fruits, persimmons. The poem begins describing a painting in one his house’s hallways “Six Persimmons” by 13th century Chinese, Zen Buddhist monk, Muchi (Snyder’s copy is obviously a reproduction). The original is in a Rinzai temple in Kyoto, Japan. Snyder explained the painting left China through trading for Japanese swords. The imagery moves from the painting to fresh persimmons from a neighbor’s garden, whose “orange goop” Snyder bites into over his sink, “Just the way I like it.” In his final poem, Snyder’s language follows a narrative from native traditions of oral story-telling in winter, the atomic bomb in Japan and the “god-question” that has caused many world conflicts. He explored power, “What got me about the bomb was that there was too much power.” At the end he returns to his theme: getting back to nature & native customs and simplifying our worlds, “don’t need much light/for telling stories in the night.” Snyder remained after the reading to answer a couple questions. Responding to one question, he defined the difference between nature and civilization, two ideas central to his work: “nature” is the entire universe and its rules while the “wild” is the “continuous process without human agency; “civilization is the human element. He said he likes to engage with his readership because they’re the type of people who choose to be concerned about similar issues – the environment, spirituality & the erasure of native culture. He said about his readers, “they’re an element of society worth engaging with.” Writers like Gary Snyder, who use art as something other than egoism, are still writing their narratives for anyone willing to listen.
“LIQUID CELLULOSE” castle of green walls breathes crumbling cellulose filaments above the dirt ingest grease see somewhat broken nucleus walls cracking. eviscerate me but I stare at the sun for weeks. words are your [my] catharsis book pages printed on my skin while it wilts siege outside walls & I am queen breathing light cigarette smoke and black pitch notebooks boil. mother forgets water. the petals on plant leaves dry narcissist [peace] shit, she said. I am the oppressor, his daughter same veins but walls are darker don’t realize voices silent revolutions. ***
Obligatory animal-rights article about saving animals or something, but who really wants to buy shit that’s been eroding eyeballs/skin of monkeys or bunnies? Animals trapped in cages in stuffy labs with apparatuses drilled into their skulls – all to make sure that we humans (convinced of our superiority) won’t have allergic reactions to whatever cosmetic we’re applying to our greasy faces because the results from a rat’s skin corroborates the reaction on human skin. Those cute animals you see in the wild are shipped from their native habitats in the cargo hold of a 787 “Dreamliner” to make sure your body lotion won’t give you the hives (or worse). So if you’re just as appalled at the thought of other creatures dying for your comfort, rest assured because non-testing alternatives can be found pretty easily. First on the list, cruelty-free fragrance, hand sanitizers and hand soaps can be found at Bath & Body Works, which infests most local shopping malls. Watch out for Victoria’s secret, though (which has the same parent company) – because this brand DOES animal test to sell to the Chinese government, which requires animal testing for cosmetics products to enter the country. Checking to see whether or not a company sells is China is a great way to find out right away whether or not they test. Now to your makeup – lip gloss, lip stick, blush, eye liner and mascara, etc. – Wet N’ Wild and NYX should be able to take care of most of these needs (found at most Walgreens, Target and Ulta) If you’re in a large city, LUSH Cosmetics, which only sells at its own stores, can be found in the ritzy, haute-couture neighborhood. On a side note, New York Color’s parent company claims to not test products/ingredients, but their testing position is still ambiguous and doesn’t appear on most cruelty-free lists. Then we move on to household items and the fucking gold-mine that is Trader Joe’s. Seriously this place is amazing, and it carries its own cruelty-free generic brands of laundry detergent, soaps, cleaners, shampoos and toothpaste (not-to-mention the store is a herbivore’s heaven). Let’s take a minute to appreciate the place that is Trader Joe’s…………………………………………………………………………………………………. Whole Foods Market, 365 also stocks up on cruelty-free everyday items (including its own generic brand), but be prepared to shell out a slightly scary amount of cash for the essentials. Besides generic brands, ABBA and Nature’s Gate (Ulta) make subtly fragrant shampoos and conditioners, and Tom’s of Maine produces natural toothpaste, mouthwash, deodorant, bar soap and body lotion without all the artificial shit (Walgreens, CVS). But what about those of us who love punk-rock and are so bored with our natural hair colors? Thanks to New York City sisters Tish and Snooky, we have Manic Panic, which has been changing hair colors cruelty-free since 1977. All the colors of the rainbow, plus various shades and tones, can be found at your local Sally Beauty Supply, and don’t forget “Flashlightning Bleach” with its 40 volume cream developer that will have your dark hair damn near white. This goes without saying - but if you’re not putting animals on your face, why wear their skin on your body? Many companies sell vinyl shoes and jackets that look like the real, leather deal without the… deadness, and acrylic sweaters, scarves and hats are a great alternative to wool products. It’s all in the labels. [IF IN DOUBT, LOOK FOR THIS LABEL BELOW]
“SAFFRON, S/T DEMO (2014)” The Seattle-area is known for its good bands – Mudhoney, Bikini Kill and more recently the Hysterics – but travel one state south to Oregon, the city of Eugene to be exact, and you’ll find (hear) Saffron. They’ve been playing local shows for the last six months around town and at Oregon University (including a party celebrating the Roe v. Wade anniversary), and the attention they’ve been getting for their grungy sound is encouraging in a world of rock bands that rehash the same love-me-let’s-get-drunk-andfuck gimmick over and over again. On vocals and guitar is green-haired Alex Jackson, with Graham Thirkill on bass and Matt Kaplowitz on drums. They all live in the same house together, Alice in Chains style, where they live, practice and eat (and they’ve got a pretty rad, ambient lit practice space instead of the usual, cold concrete hole). Seattle’s Hells Belles just recently hosted a show in Eugene, and Saffron opened up the show as part of a girl band collective in and around Eugene, called GrrrlzRock (which helps promote local bands). Jackson, only 22 years old, left Australia to marry her wife in Oregon and taught her band mates the songs she’d been writing within six months once she’d arrived in the States. She writes most of the music and she’s managed to meld the psychedelic rock of Pink Floyd and “Black Hole Sun” era Soundgarden with the crunchy riffs of the Melvins. Onstage, she combines Big Muff fuzz with a chorus pedal to get a watery guitar track, but her raspy vocals are stirring, like in the song “Pins” where she sings, “I got a pen/I wrote a letter/It doesn’t make much sense/But I feel better.” Backing vocals from the guys create a ghostly echo against Jackson’s vocal that evokes Layne Staley-era Alice in Chains, two vocals and one large guitar sound. The song “Alec Baldwin” follows a loud-soft-loud dynamic with melodic riffs filling the guitar track for the verses, and then loud, distorted chords in the chorus, “God please let it be the truth/Street lights make a halo around you.” When the chorus emanates from the speakers, it traps you in the moment as her vocals seem to fill up the entire space around you (no matter how shitty the quality of your speakers). Her energy and wistfulness infects you until the song’s emotions begin to become your own. Saffron’s riffs have this bluesy element to them, and Jackson’s definitely got some guitar chops – you can hear how natural a guitar sounds in her hands in the solos thrown in between verses. The drums are a subtle presence in the songs but glue everything together with the bass. The attention point is still Jackson’s guitar tone that seems to match up perfectly with the growl in her vocal, which streams out of the speaker and demands attention and sounds like she’s had struggles in her life but also evokes that feeling of crawling out of the mud. Hers is the voice of someone who’s seen some shit but is now confident in herself. In “Song for the River” Jackson sings, “Can you see through/With multi-colored speckled eyes?/Do you feel compelled to/Touch the paint before it dries?” The lyrics seem to reflect that kind of yearning people feel when the person they understand the least is themselves. The band members aren’t trying to be anything other than kids from Eugene, OR and they own their mountain-woods, rainy aesthetic. They’ve got that slow, grinding crunch of a rock band that’ll pave its way past anyone who says they won’t make it. The band is currently saving up to record their first full-length EP (while we impatiently wait for news!). Thanks to local, Eugene artist Lucy F.R. who recommended Saffron and also found a lot of the info for this post…
“GOD PLEASE LET IT BE THE TRUTH STREET LIGHTS MAKE A HALO AROUND YOU.”
DEAR MAXIS, YOU FUCKED UP. All the fucking hype that follows a new Sims game is overrated, but for the last three installments Maxis has deserved it – the Sims 2 was better than 1 and 3 much better than either of them. Then comes the Sims 4. Despite some new gameplay, the new installment is a wilted shell of the open-world Sims 3. We’ll start with the good stuff – one of the downsides of the Sims 3 was that Sims couldn’t watch TV and have a conversation at the same time (pretty unrealistic, right?). The programmers at Maxis added “multi-tasking” and now Sims can eat, watch TV and have a conversation with their hot lover all at the same time. Also the way moods affect Sim life has been updated – depending on circumstances in the game, a Sim feeling flirty, energized, uncomfortable, sad or tense behaves differently. The strongest improvement is the CAS (create-a-Sim). Instead of the awkward sliders used to change a Sim’s body and facial features, the player can now grab a body part with the cursor (i.e. a thigh or boob) and adjust their size (big titties!). The sliders were separate from the body, but by clicking directly on the Sim, the player is closer to their work-of-art. One bitch though – all of the clothing and hairstyles are still pretty heteronormative (for 2014). The guys have shorter-hair options and the females longer-hair options, and I still haven’t been able to realize my dream of putting a guySim in a dress (because that’s how some of the stories in my world unfold). The Sims 3 is known for its realistic style, but the Sims 4 took a step back to a cartoon-like style, which took a while to appreciate but has its own character with flatter colors and exaggerated movements. When the Sims was launched 15 years ago, the game was revolutionary with its ability to let people “play with life.” Anybody could create their favorite celebrity and marry them (Norman Reedus, anybody?). The design controls were primitive in the first installment, with only a few choices to customize appearance and furniture, but upgraded with the Sims 2, which gave Sims more of a personality beyond just a horoscope. Then the Sims 3 came out in 2009 – almost everything became customizable, several open-worlds (added with each expansion pack) waited to be explored and a massive DLC (downloadable content) library meant you could mod the shit out of that game if you so desire. The praise ends right here. The lack of an open-world in the Sims 4 is absolutely disappointing – we’re back at the load screen from the Sims 2 (which sucked then, but we didn’t know any better). Wanna go to the store and buy veggies? First, grocery stores don’t exist anymore and second, you wanna go anywhere enjoy the fucking load screen. Load screen isolate the game so your Sims are house-bound 90% percent of the time. Maxis sin number two is the loss of the “Create-A-Style” tool. In the Sims 3 almost anything can be changed with a custom pattern – furniture fabric, clothing, floor tiles – but now the player’s gotta choose between a few arbitrary patterns, which is a major bummer for the creative types. Then, you gotta do the whole Steam-like login to get into the Sims 4, which means an internet connection is required. Maxis is doing it to prevent bootleggers probably, but it’s just a pain in the ass, signing in to verify my identity to play a game I paid for. What’s the point of that for the Sims 4? Most people I know who play the Sims (including me) are misanthropes anyway and won’t share the game because they don’t talk to anybody. I seriously doubt the Sims 4 and its expansion packs will sell as well as its predecessor, which is a damn shame. The Sims 3 has its flaws like any other game, but the Sims 4 is a ginormous step backward. Hopefully in another five years the Sims 5 will fix this shit. [4TH GEN SIMS FOREVER FROZEN ON MY HARD-DRIVE WILL NEVER HAVE FULL LIFE ^]
“CONFESSIONS OF A SLUT”
Sin has no universal poster child. Its venom is hidden in the communication of words and actions. It’s easy to tell which sentences are spoken with purity or with damnation, because usually once it begins to trickle down a person’s lips, you can see a black puddle begin to form underneath their feet and begin to trail them wherever they go. Sin does not come in the form of a middle age businessman or addict. It is an extension of sadness that infects us all, but only completely consumes some. What we do with that sadness later is all up to us. What did I do? I replaced drinking with sex and it was only then that I realized as a woman you will always be seen as a dirty bitch, and as a woman of color, you will be seen as an exotic toy that needs to abide by your partners rules of sex because you’re in America goddamit. Outside of a monogamous relationship, the female who wants no commitment will be the girl who was asking for it and the man will have cummed and be seen as a football hero, when in fact, the moment they get up from that bed, they both would have soaked it with that
black liquid of
theirs.
It was with this truth, that I accepted the risks and vulnerability I would put myself through because it would mean my own sin would be displaced, lost, and never to be found on the lips of these men. Monday I’d fuck Alex the ex-boxer and punk artist, Tuesday I’d get wasted and sleep over at Nathan’s who was a theater major and modern hippie, Wednesday, I’d drink a couple of beers and fuck Graham on his couch before his roommate came in, Thursday, I would get high with Nick the otaku at midnight and have sex until 2pm in the afternoon, then Friday would be dedicated to the occasional one night stand either at a bar or one of many punk shows that littered around the Chicago area. That was how I lived my life for four months, convincing myself that it was better than drinking a fifth of whiskey every night like I use to. That was until I met Casey.
With the glare from the TV being the only source of light in the room, I had trouble recognizing what Casey was handing to me. He stood there naked, smoking a cigarette, with one hand reached out toward me. “Is 150 okay?”
He recounted the money in his hand and placed a hundred dollar bill, two twenties, and a ten on the wooden bookcase that was positioned beside his bed. He put on some obscure ska record and then began to slowly kiss me. I was to in shock to even realize what was going on. Was I getting paid for sex? Should I accept it? I was going to fuck him anyways right? Might as well get paid for it? Looking back at the situation, what made it worse was that I actually was considering taking the money. Of course, shortly after I pushed him off, I told him to fuck off, spit in his face, took what was left of the whiskey we had been drinking earlier in the evening and left.
Stripping away the identity of gender, an individual has a right to live their lives as they please which is a universal truth I’m sure a majority of us feel comfortable saying now. Whether you choose to be sexually adventurous, or reserve your body for one person exclusively, everyone will always be the embodiment of complete sin to another. We’re all connected in that way. You may not fuck excessively, but you may pray excessively. Everything to an excess equals to a downfall but my questions is, what makes a slut? What makes someone sexually empowered? What makes a virgin? Why are women put into these three distinct categories and what are the qualifications that need to be met in order to fall into each? If we’re not exclusive, and I make another man cum, am I a slut? If we’re not exclusive, but I come over to your house a couple times a week and make you cum excessively, am I sexually empowered? If we’re not exclusive, and you don't go down on me but I go down on you and you don’t cum, am I a prude? Who knows? All I can say is, I’ve never orgasmed once.
As a slut I wonder, was that my fault?
I FUCKING FINALLY WATCHED “HIT SO HARD” “A never-before-seen look at the bands who changed rock & roll,” is the tagline printed across the front of the DVD case for Patty Schemel’s documentary, “Hit So Hard.” As the drummer of Hole, she personally got to watch the transformation of the rock world from hedonistic rock stars to socially conscious and vulnerable alt-rockers, when artists began to squash the excesses of the ‘80s. The music for the outsiders, punk rock, very briefly spoke to an entire generation. However the interviews and footage didn’t come from the media, and they don’t portray their subjects as untouchable gods. “Hit So Hard” isn’t about all the tags media pinned to Nirvana or Hole (“Generation X”); it’s entirely Schemel’s story and the emotions and vulnerabilities of the characters in her life. In 1994 Schemel bought a video camera and began to document her life on the road with Hole and Nirvana, and she was able to capture the era of the worldwide “Live Through This” tour. In the early 1990’s, an era where everybody knew someone who had died due to AIDS, overdose or suicide, Schemel’s camera captures intimate moments between those who ultimately survived – Courtney Love, Eric Erlandson and Schemel herself – with those whom they lost – Kurt Cobain and Hole bassist Kristen Pfaff. Mingled with the video footage from the ‘90s are interviews in retrospect with members of Hole and friends of the band (including Roddy Bottum from Faith No More and Nina Gordon from Veruca Salt, who were with Hole on the “Live Through This” Tour). Schemel’s interviews are taken over several years after her sobriety, and with each year farther from the stupor of drugs (especially alcohol & heroin), she gains greater insight to how lucky she is to still be alive out of the chaotic drug-fueled world she knew. The one “no shit!” moment in the documentary was the (unnecessary) drug therapy guy from MAP whose job was to tell viewers about the (obvious) psychological effects of drugs. We get it that drugs are bad, and we’re more interested in Patty’s experiences anyway. Telling people drugs fuck up their brains isn’t gonna make them want them less. Seriously D.A.R.E. and its lion mascot are a joke. “Hit So Hard” is Patty’s story, and it touches on her musical experiences before Hole – her high school bands in and around Seattle, including a poster she’d saved from a show where her band opened for the Fastbacks, a popular punk band, and 10 Minute Warning, Duff Mckagan’s punk band before he transferred to Los Angeles and formed Guns N’ Roses. Schemel came out as a lesbian after one drunken night when she made a pass at a straight friend, and for the first time she really felt that sense of outsider, but as she said in the documentary, “Thank god for punk rock and those people because you could be whatever you wanted to be.” Many Seattle musicians say the same thing – their cruddy, punk-rock scene full of its weird kids felt like home. Schemel was always rejected being a female drummer in a male-dominated world, which is exactly the reason why she picked up the sticks. She looked around and noticed no girls were on the drums. Schemel’s story isn’t saturated with complicated camera angles or crafty scripts. Her candor in front of the camera, talking about the friends (specifically Cobain and Pfaff) that she lost, and the choking in her voice – even all these years later – makes the people she knew human. Through interviews and grainy home footage, which fits the altrock aesthetic ironically well, the moments are tangible & emanating from the screen in both the rise and fall. Schemel herself says, “of course you want to be famous, but you don’t think it’ll ever happen.” The subtle tale of caution about going too far for rock n’ roll could make some musicians re-consider: do fame and multi-platinum albums really lead to a fulfilling life?
I WISH I COULD TELL GUYS i don’t want your dick for my birthday (i want a sports car); I WISH I COULD TELL GUYS that after acquiring said car i still don’t owe you sex; I WISH I COULD TELL GUYS that i’m a girl and i get drunk and it’s okay; I WISH I COULD TELL GUYS when drunk i’ll probably say “yes” but YOU should be hyperaware of your intentions then; I WISH I COULD TELL GUYS i like mechanics and guitars and its not a ploy for your dick; I WISH I COULD TELL GUYS when i say “i’m reading/painting” it’s not the silent treatment; I WISH I COULD TELL GUYS i have a life and i don’t like messages 20x a day;I WISH I COULD TELL GUYS a 6 month “dry spell” doesn’t drag me down because i have other things going on; I WISH I COULD TELL GUYS to stop buying me gifts because i feel cheap; I WISH I COULD TELL GUYS that i will not change my speech/dress for their comfort; I WISH I COULD TELL GUYS we can talk for 6 months and share all our secrets and i still don’t owe you sex; I WISH I COULD TELL GUYS how disgusted i am that you message me at 2AM because you’re “lonely” (wink); I WISH I COULD TELL GUYS how incredibly hollow i feel when they only talk about my body; I WISH I COULD TELL GUYS my self-worth isn’t determined by whether or not i’m getting laid;I WISH I COULD TELL GUYS that veg food/open-mindedness/art are important and not me trying to play “hard to get”; I WISH I COULD TELL GUYS how much i hate hearing “well obviously no one’s ever given it to you good” when i say i’m a feminist; I WISH I COULD TELL GUYS that i swear and say what’s on my mind and i have a right to my autonomy.