LOVE STORIES AND POEMS

Table of Contents
First Kiss - D.M. Creamer ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pg. 2 - 7
Slow Burner- Jonathan Opray~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pg. 8 - 10
You and Me, Five Minutes From Now- Patrick Hanners~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pg. 12 - 16
Te Sea Now - Jared Law~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pg. 18 -20
Lo<3 Poem - Margan Faller~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pg. 22
Tumbleweed - Nick Nordlinger~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pg. 24 - 27
Texts From Exsulo - Matt Wong~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pg. 28 - 35
A Cross Between Two Evils - Diana Mabel Cruz~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pg. 36 - 39
A Renewed Friendship - Previn Witana~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pg. 40 - 44
When Memories of Early Mornings - Parisa Jean E.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pg. 45
Poem - Randy Keller~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pg. 46
Panopticalm Press, Match 2014
All work belongs to its original authors
If you would like to submit work, email jaredelaw@gmail.com
Visit panopticalm.blogspot.com for an online archive.
First Kiss.
D.M. Creamer
Yeah.. yeah that sounds amazing..
It was incredible... Ive never witnessed a more spectacular sunset/full moon rise. Te light was
fltering through the red rocks of the canyon. It was heaven. I was so glad that I had waited for that
moment. Climbing down later we were holding hands on the trail in the twilight and an owl brushed
the back of our heads with its wings as it glided silently over us. It was electric. We looked at each
other, starry-eyed and grinning, and I squeezed his hand to not wake up if I were dreaming. It was
magic. Ill never forget it.
Wow.. Yeah. Tats incredible.
What about you?
Huh?
What about you? What was your frst kiss experience?
Uhmm.. It was interesting.
Im sure it was wonderful : ) Will you tell me about it?
Uhh.. Sure.

Tere was an earthquake in Northridge in January of 1994. I was living at my friend Tonys
sleeping on the foor. It was the second foor of an all brick building on Vermont in East Hollywood,
if there were an East Hollywood.. Anyway the building was condemned afer the earthquake, and
Tony had to move. I was having a pint with my friend Jared Shivas at La Poubelle a week or so later,
and he asked me how the earthquake had lef me. When I said, homeless, he invited me to come
stay with him in Venice near the beach. Venice, California. Its just south of Santa Monica. Tat
was the year Snoop Dogg came out with Gin and Juice. You remember that one? Rollin down the
street. Smokin indo. Sippin on gin and juice.. Yeah.. I guess you were about 5 when that came out.
Anyway, the culture at that time in parts of LA, with Death Row Records hittin it hard and Gangsta
Rap just getting big was pretty intense. It was defnitely cool in a lot of neighborhoods to carry a gun
and run with a gang and maybe you could even get famous doing it like Snoop and Dre, and if you
did you might get killed anyway but could maybe end up like Tupac or something.. Perceived as be-
ing so bad ass that people think you were resurrected or something.. Shot in a drive by afer a Mike
Tyson fght. Remember Mike Tyson? I see symbolized in him and his fght history, culminating
with his second fght with Evander Holyfeld when he bit Holyfelds ear in frustration, a lot of what
the 90s felt like. It started with apathy and moved into anger and chaos.. Anyway. Maybe Im gener-
alizing, but there was defnitely a lot of that dont give a FUCK! attitude going around. It felt like a
lot of the young people wanted to act as hard as they could and fght to prove they were. I remember
that in the skateboard videos we watched as well.. It was everywhere. Anyway, where was I?..........
Oh. Yeah.. So Jared (Shivas) lived in Venice on 7th and Brooks, a block away from the infa-
mous intersection of 6th and Brooks. Te area there is called Oakwood little rundown to semi-run-
down bungalows built in the 50s and 60s from the look of them, mixed with occasional apartment
buildings, just blocks from trendy beach shops. It was the site of some of the worst gang violence
in the LA early 90s. Te Shoreline Crips versus the Latino V-13. Te neighborhood had been pre-
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dominately African-American, but the Latino population had grown to the point of being enough of
a presence to spark a war. Tere were tensions due to the encroaching gentrifcation and white pro-
fessionals moving in as well. Tere were shootings regularly. Weekly or bi-weekly automatic gunfre
at night was just part of the background soundscape. I guess we were too young to be scared much
by it. Or at least I was. I dont know how Jared felt. He told me about police chasing an armed man
through his front yard one afernoon. Te fact that his front yard was someone elses backyard and
had tall wooden fences made the event more intimate than it initially sounds. Anyway, I remember
a lot of folks listening to Snoop Dogg and other gangsta rap and many pictured Snoop strolling the
streets of Venice for the Gin and Juice track.
I moved in with Jared pretty much right away. Tere was a strange little closet-sized room
with windows that bubbled out of the front of his second story granny unit like the aferthought of an
aferthought. It was big enough to lie down in and had a door. Jared didnt expect rent and seemed
to enjoy the company. He worked for some kind of internet startup or something and did some kind
of programming. I didnt ask about it much as it didnt sound interesting or maybe it sounded in-
timidating, not sure which. We talked about Scotland and girls and Hollywood and drank Guinness,
Newcastle and Mickeys malt liquor in the 12 oz. hand grenade bottles while smoking weed as regu-
larly as we could get a hold of it. It wasnt like now where you cant not fnd weed. Tere were under-
cover cops busting dime bag dealers on the beach daily. Jared smoked more than I did. He was a bit
dependent on it at times.
One night in particular, we ran out early and kept sipping beers and wishing we had more smoke.
About 11 oclock I decided to go out and get us a dime from someone. Jared was a little dubious. Im
pretty resourceful though and wasnt worried about it. He gave me a 20 and I went for a walk.
I used to walk through that neighborhood all the time late at night between the beach and Jareds. At
night the beach was just an extension of the drugs and violence which enveloped the neighborhood.
Again, probably out of naivety, I didnt feel fear about it usually.
Te street lights are dim where there are working lights at all but my white face and long hair
with semi-skateboarder attire stood out a bit harshly Im sure. Tere werent that many people out at
that hour but there were some. I passed a tall skinny black girl with a clean black zip up sweatshirt
on. She said,Whats up? You need something? Yeah, Im looking for some pot.
Pot? You mean like weed?
Yeah.
I dont know about that. You want to smoke some crack?
No. I just want some weed. I dont smoke crack.
She was probably about 19 or 20 to my 18. She had short boyish hair, combed back, which
seemed cut for ease without a thought for whether or not it was attractive. She had her hood up like
most did. Te misty winter nights get cold with the ocean breeze.
I know of one place we can check. I dont know if theyll have anything though. How much you
need?
20 bucks worth.
Alright. Its down this way.
She began to wind me down a few blocks of lef and right turns. It felt like we were not ap-
proaching from a particular direction but just wandering there. Along the way she asked me a few
more times if I wanted to smoke crack instead. I assured her that I didnt. Just that word was so
loaded. It conjured up all kinds of things. It was a symbol of cultural collapse in the ghettos and vio-
lence between police and gangs and gangs and gangs. It was part of the dont give a FUCK attitude.
It was connected with downhill spirals and no ways out. She thought it was a lot easier to get for me
though and that I should just smoke that instead.
Coming down the sidewalk around one particular corner we looked up ahead to see a hulking
fgure in baggy, sagging jeans (not dissimilar to my own skateboard attire) and a huge hoodie which
hid his face like the shadowy form of the grim reaper. My guide said quietly, Shit! Shit. Just look
down. Dont look at him. I was walking slightly in front of her and to her right. I attempted cool-
ness in my walk and to look down as though its what I wanted to do anyway. He passed me like a
shark or a spot-lighting cop. She popped her chin at him as they passed each other. Sup? Sup?
Tere was a small exchange that I couldnt hear as I stopped and stood at a respectful distance and
feigned interest in the wrought iron fence and low block wall in front of me. Tey fnished quickly
and we rolled on in silence. Te house was coming up and she told me how it would go and that I
needed to give her the money to go in with and shed get what she could while I waited outside. I had
hitched out of Montana 6 months before and had had little street experience prior. I doubt that I had
more than just a vague wondering as to whether or not she would rip me of. I trusted easily in those
days. I could tell you some other time about the process of that changing, which involved quite a few
learning experiences.
I waited outside by the sidewalk and she passed through a hedge and climbed the short stairs
to a darkened porch. I was far enough away that I couldnt hear her knocking. I saw the door crack
open and she disappeared inside. It was quiet except for a stereo bumpin along some blocks away.
I shifed my feet and kept up my pose of confdence for anyone who might wander by. It wasnt so
much faked.. It was me feeling like I could take care of myself too. It was being 18. It was... not feel-
ing like you were taking any extra risk in doing a particular thing than in doing something else. It
was a disconnect from cause and efect.
A gangsta rap soundtrack from a dropped Oldsmobile got my attention a block before it
reached me. I debated walking around the corner, but there was really no place to hide. Instead, I
maintained position and tried to seem like I was on important business of some sort. I didnt look
at them. I thought about drive bys as they approached and some part of me accepted that I could be
shot. Tere were always stories circulating about gang member initiations and random shootings
of pedestrians. Tey slowed a bit and looked me over but continued on. I felt better as the stereo
sounds faded though my heart pumped again when I heard them squeal around a corner and speed
up. Tey werent returning though, and the crickets, which somehow maintain in most any envi-
ronment, began to chirp. Te same crickets I remember as a boy in Tallahassee. Te same crickets I
heard in Montana as a teenager. I put my hood up and my hands in my hoodie pocket as I shufed
my feet. It was getting colder. I wondered if the girl would return. I wondered how long I should
wait if she didnt. Afer 20 minutes or so, she reappeared. Tey didnt have nothin. You sure you
dont want to smoke some crack? You ever try it? Ill give you a taste.
Okay. I guess so.
Alright. Lets go over to my house and we can smoke. I live with my mom. You gotta be quiet
though my babys sleepin.
She took me on a walk similar to the one we had already been on. We arrived at a house not
dissimilar to the one we had lef. Tis time I went with her up the steps and across the porch. Shh.
You gotta be quiet. My moms up in the livin room and my babys sleepin. I assured her I would
be. We stepped inside and she closed the door. Low lighting from semi-bare bulbs and wood foors
interspersed with worn low pile carpets, slight multi leveling with a short step down into the liv-
ing room. It felt a bit like stepping back in time the 1960s maybe. She mumbled something as
3 4
we passed her mom who was rocking in a chair in the living room and looking down at something.
She took me into her bedroom. One of the walls was missing and a plastic sheet was hung for some
sense of privacy. Her baby was sleeping in the next room. I dont remember if she checked on him.
He was about 6 months old from what I gathered. She wasnt with the father. I sat on the twin bed.
Afer rifing around for a brief moment for the pipe, lighter and rock, she sat on a chair across from
me. She told me in hushed tones how to light it slowly, pull slower and hold it in as long as I could. I
wondered at what the hell I was doing there and what Jared was thinking about now. I did as she told
me.
Whats it like? Uhmm It hits you like.. I remember my ears ringing slightly. Ten youre
euphoric like some kind of extended orgasm. It fades pretty quickly though. Te aferefects are pay-
back for sure. You realize right away why people get killed over that shit.
I started talking about something or other as though she wanted to know. Some personal
details about my life.. I dont remember what. Tats how you get though. She reminded me to keep
quiet for her mom and baby. She was quiet for a minute longer and then suggested that we leave and
continue smoking somewhere else. I agreed.
She made some small story for her mom. It didnt seem necessary or important. We stepped back
out into the night. She zipped up her sweatshirt and we put our hoods up. For the frst time that
night, I felt attracted to her.
We turned lef and walked towards the beach. Te pace was diferent this time. We were more di-
rected and connected. Near Abbot Kinney we turned north toward Rose Avenue and then into a
parking lot of a deserted motel. We sat on a parking block in the back near a high chain link fence
under foodlights. She got the little glass tube of a pipe out. Te crack pipe of choice in those days
was a little glass tube around a quarter of an inch in inside diameter. Ofen they seemed like bro-
ken-of test tubes, and ofen one end was a bit sharp. It would be stufed with a little plug of Chore
Boy copper scrub pad. It would be pushed a half inch or so into the sharper end and the rock was
dropped in on top of it. You had to hold the pipe at a slight angle or you would be carpet fshing as
many did trying to fnd a bit of rock you or someone else dropped or you hoped had been dropped
unnoticed at some point in time. Folks got lost in hoping they would fnd something that had been
lost.
She loaded a bit more rock into the pipe and handed it to me. Te hum of the lights had re-
placed the sound of the crickets. As I exhaled, the hum in my head took over. I handed her the pipe
and lighter and with a smile spreading on my face, I started talking again about something person-
al. Something I would never have told anyone about a moment before. I dont know what. I looked
over at her, and I felt like maybe I could kiss her. I had never kissed a girl before.
In my need for street cred (typical for my age), I had begun to own the concept of being a
traveler who had experienced a lot. Just my hitching from Montana was more than a lot of folks had
experienced even though it was fairly uneventful. I started telling her a bit about that, about how I
had experienced a lot of things on the road or some bullshit. It was all to justify the next line which
was,
But Ive never kissed a girl.. Would you kiss me?
She fnished her hit and looked out at the fence. She didnt seem to be thinking about what
I had said. She shufed her position on the block and held the pipe and lighter in the same hand.
Why do you want to kiss me?
I just want to see what its like. Ive experienced a lot of things, but Ive never done that before, and I
want to know about it.
I guess so.
I suppose I was a little nervous about how it would go. Before I could think much more about
it though, she leaned over and pecked me on the lips quickly and then got up and walked around by
the dumpster, stretching her long legs a little.
Tat wasnt what I had expected it to be like. It wasnt anything like the amazing experience
portrayed in movies or by those around me. No, not like that!
What then?
I dont know..
You kiss me then.
Okay.
I thought about the tips I had picked up on kissing from movies and magazines through the
years and the occasional practicing on my forearm. I stood up and walked toward her. She seemed
disinterested but turned her head down toward me as I got to her. She was probably 511 to my 58.
I pressed my lips against hers attempting to keep them sof as I had heard to do and held them there
for 4 or 5 long seconds. Hers returned nothing of the sofness though she did return the patience. I
stepped back, a little confused as to what I wanted and what was happening. I wondered if I was any
good at this whole kissing thing. How was it?
I dont know.
We pretended nothing had happened and sat back down on the parking block. She put anoth-
er hit in the pipe and handed it to me. I held it in extra-long in some attempt to gain what it was the
kiss was supposed to deliver. I exhaled as she fnished her hit. Te humming in my head picked up.
She looked me over as the efects kicked in. Makes you horny dont it? I didnt answer. I realize
now that the comment meant nothing about whether or not I had had sex before, but at the time,
I wondered if shed heard any of the frst kiss story I had just told her. I wondered if she could hear
people at all.
We fnished smoking and headed back without many words exchanged. She said shed keep
looking for some weed and would let me know if she found any. I said okay and also that, just in
case she didnt fnd any, I would hang on to the 20 for now. She gave it back to me. I forget how she
was going to let me know if she found any. Maybe I gave her the landline at Jareds or maybe I would
meet her on the same corner in an hour or two.. I forget. We said goodbye and each stepped back-
ward and pivoted to meet our diverging paths. I had a bag of mixed feelings but no weed. I won-
dered if maybe I could frame this as a cool story somehow for those who might ask or for my con-
science-easing spilling of it. I never saw her again.
Jared was worried when I arrived. He had been debating calling the police. I felt bad for his
worry and for my not being successful, I didnt fnd anything. Sorry dude.
Tats fne man! Youre alive! Tats all that counts!
I cracked a Mickeys and laid belly down on the foor with my face occasionally resting on my
folded arms as I told him the barest details. I lef out the kissing.
I felt his mood changing as he judged me for it, or maybe that was me.
So there it is.. My frst kiss story.
Huh. Wow. Tats a.. yeah, I dont know what to say.
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Yeah.. I.. I was trying to say that it was a little diferent.
Yeah. Yeah it defnitely is. Maybe you should write about it someday.
Slow Burner
Jonathan Opray
Te door opened; Sandy and a friend entered the room with a six pack of Coronitas. I had or-
chestrated this house party ever so carefully. Months beforehand, I had planted the idea of a party in
my roommates minds, subtly suggesting that we could entertain, that it would be, as they say, chill.
I carefully entrapped my most outgoing roommate, Abe, into mentioning to an outside acquaintance
that we were interested in throwing a party for an upcoming holiday. Te acquaintance nodded, and
afer he lef, I suggested that Abe make an event for the holiday, promising my full support.
I had negotiated deals with outside social groups, carefully leveraging them against each other,
gathering the support of one trustworthy group of very nice, sociable, and slightly efeminate guys.
Yeah, they said halfeartedly, (I knew I could count on them) Tatd be cool. Afer nagging them
to accept invites, I opened up the party to everyone. Knowing I had them as my anchor, I managed
to get six out of the nine girls I knew to reply with some variant of K to a carefully worded text,
reading: Hey, u coming to our party next weeknd. Te inconsistent abbreviation hinted casual, but
not too casual (and an in-joke if they realized I was referencing the band), and the lack of a question
mark stated my indiference. I had deliberated between Hey, Yo, and Hi, but I stuck with the
classic, and I think it worked well for me in this instance, as it had in the past.
Te Facebook event grew, and I ever so slightly pressured the Maybes that made up 40% of
the party. You guys should come over I said. Itll be fun. I noticed that Sandy was a maybe, but I
couldnt contact her directly. It would make me too needy. I asked my roommate Rob, who was in
one of her classes, if he could bring up the party. Just ask her yourself , he insisted, but I won him
over in the end, and he brought me news that she would probably make it. Was this a sign? Was she
being indiferent in order to look cool in front of me? It was tough to tell, but I fgured it was proba-
bly a good thing. It had been fve days since the last time I had talked to her in passing, and I fgured
that one contact per week was roughly optimal in terms of keeping myself in her mind, but not mak-
ing her feel claustrophobic. Or was it? Maybe less contact was best.
When Sandy entered our apartment, my anxiety surged simultaneously with my relief. I had
done it, and I couldnt believe that I had gotten this far, but there was still much to do. I kept aloof at
frst, saying hey, and saying there were drinks in the kitchen. Eff, had I overused the word Hey? I
couldnt think about that now, and I knew I had to regain my composure. I led the way to the kitchen
and started pressuring a few friends to take shots--I hadnt drank beforehand, in fear of seeming like
an alcoholic, but now I needed a buzz to give me confdence. I fgured arranging shots would impart
me with a vibe of leadership and make me seem fun-loving.
Sandy had walked of to talk to a mutual (guy!?) friend that I hadnt known she had known.
I should have looked through our mutual friends on Facebook more closely, then perhaps I could
have stopped this! Did she seem interested? Tey seemed to be hitting it of. Was she interested? He
seemed pretty average looking, but he had that aura of experience that I suspected I didnt fake well
enough.
7 8
I had to make him undesirable somehow, and there was only one good way. I had to beat him
in beer pong.
Hey, (shoot, had I used it again) you guys want to play beer pong with me and Rajit? Eh,
sure. they replied. Now I just needed to make sure she was on my team. Sandy insisted she wasnt
any good, so I (lied) and said I was the best, and we should be on the same team. Rajit opened his
mouth to disagree with my self-assessment, but I distracted him by imploring him to recount a fa-
vorite beer pong story, which he did.
Te beer pong got underway. We traded blows, and I performed well enough for a stretch for
us to take the lead. I made sure that I dropped clever inside jokes and made knowing eye contact
with Sandy. Te other team caught up, and there we were at the end, with one cup each. I made it,
and Sandy and I cheered, rubbing it in their faces. Tings were going great, and I had to chance it--I
asked if she wanted a tour of the house.
I showed her around, paranoid that my roommates would discover us alone together and
would somehow humiliate me. My room was calculatingly clean, dirty only in ways that indicated I
had diverse and active interests. An interesting book was spread on my bed and camping gear peeked
out of the closet. A masculine hygiene collection sat in a plastic bathroom crate. I dropped a witty
line, she laughed; it was going so well. She sat down on my bed.
Absentmindedly, I sat in my desk chair.
Te enormity of my mistake dawned on me: I had just missed the perfect chance to sit next to
her on the bed. I couldnt just get up and sit next to her now, it would seem too overt. But I wouldnt
have a chance this good again. Maybe if I had a compelling reason to get up? Or bring something
over to her? I scanned my desk for items to show her; text books, a notebook, a board game. Tere
was a soccer ball under the desk, and I seized on this, and kicked it to her. It clumsily ricocheted of,
and I had the perfect excuse to get up to retrieve it. I got the soccer ball, rolled it back under the desk,
and sat next to her.
Tis was it, it was my chance to make a move! I hemmed and hawed for what must have been
forty or ffy seconds, awkwardly close the whole time. It seemed like an eternity; I just needed to get
up the nerve to kiss her. My body had begun engaging in a positive reinforcement loop of sweating:
I was nervous, so I sweated, and then I became nervous about my sweating, and sweated more. I
looked into her eyes, then turned away. Was I sitting close enough to her? I scooted marginally clos-
er. She pulled out her phone for a second, checking a text from a friend who was checking on her. I
asked about it, and she said it was nothing. She was turned towards me, receptively. My anxiety was
of the charts, I couldnt think coherently enough to make any more clever remarks, my heart pound-
ed, and I knew I had to take the plunge. I would feel so much better if I could just do something,
anything, as long as I knew I had given it a shot. Weeks of planning and an entire night of not having
fun at my own party had come down to this.
Finally, she spoke: You seem really reserved. She got up from the bed slowly and pulled out
her phone again, and we walked back out to the kitchen.
Crushed, I spent the next hour or two drinking a little too much, participating in unnecessary
rounds shots and playing a lot of overly loud and aggressive beer pong. Te party started to wind
down, and Sandy got ready to go, right afer the frst round of departures. I showed her out, and she
insisted that it had been fun. I gave a longer than normal hug, convinced myself that we had grown
closer, and said goodbye, as she stepped out into the cold. Te night had gone about as well as I could
have expected, and Id always have next time.
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You and Me, Five Minutes From Now.
Patrick Hanners
I try to tell people the story. How things started with you. I never really can do it. Somehow it
all seems a little fuzzy. I spend a bit too much time lost in what might be.
Every moment, from when we frst met, I had these weird visions of the future. Tese imag-
inations of how it was going to be. Tey were more real than the moments around me. It would be
vague but so compelling. Just the image of what the future looks like. Imagining a certain home, and
a certain feeling of warmth in it. Imagining that the world outside wont creep in and try to destroy
you.
Even if I start from the beginning. I get lost in futures. I met you. Either we were going to be
peripheries, edges of some briefy aligned group, or we would coalesce and become a unit. Te sec-
ond idea rushed at me. And I decided. With this feeling of fate and connection pushing me more
than any real sense of you. So I pictured a few months down the line, and a few years, and pictured
what wed feel like. Felt some of that.
I can always kind of make these things self fulflling prophecies. Its how they work. And none
of the people I convince of my futures, sticks it out. Tey can only be waylayed by my idea of the fu-
ture for so long. Especially when I live like its already there. Like the future has already happened.
I think I convinced you to become that future. Like Id tapped into the quantum nature of
everything. Flipped a switch. It was a bit comforting to think that all of the futures Id imagined were
real. Even the horrible ones. it felt like power. I know you liked me and all, but dont think you want-
ed to be conjoined. Somehow I managed to force that to happen.
Pasts arent so easy for me, so instead of imagining how we met and how it all started of, I
imagine the familiar feeling of loss that might come when we part. In one future thats whats going to
happen afer I tell you whats really in my head.
So you look at me and wonder where my eyes are darting of to. And I feel like I know what
youre going to say. If its something diferent than I expected, I just get a more clear vision of what
the next moment is going to be.
Im looking at your eyes, but Im seeing the wrinkles form around them as you grow older,
and I grow older next to you. Its not a porch like the one were sitting on, but its got some chairs
like these ones, and cups of tea like the steaming mugs next to us. Teres some dog running of in
the yard. I cant really tell what sort of dog it is. Its not this one. So the barks meld, high pitched and
small or deep and large.
Somewhere theres a diferent future running along in my head, running along with the one we
seem to be making. A future where theres a me separated out, with some other person. I dont know
which one I want to make, but I feel like I can force the moment.
11 12
Where do you go I hear your voice, and it should be transporting me into the present, the way
some physical feelings can. the way the clarity of pain can stop my constant falling into the things
that will be. Te way that orgasm can stop the moment and move me into immediacy.
Oh, I just got distracted I try to make something up, seeing the future where you look dis-satisfed
at my non answer. Somehow feeling like Im going to tell you the truth for the frst time. But I know I
have to hold it of for a while. Give it a bit more time.
Im just remembering the last time I had this tea. I think it was back in California. I lie.
I think I remember that. Whyd we pick this one up again.
Te conversation feels meaningless, but its better than the conversation thats waiting in front
of me. Te dual possibilities of continued comfort, and dissolving of all that.
I think about a future where I tell you what Im actually thinking. You look at me, feeling awk-
ward. I think about why Id want to tell you. Why Id want to show you my constantly disjointed real-
ity. Sometimes youll talk about a plan for the next few years. Tats probably it; Tat youre willing
to imagine something happening afer this. Most people just want to be. Tey say they want to dream
about what could be, but they never take it far enough. Every once in a while your idea of the future
and the one constantly running in my head will match up.
I see you looking confusedly. Looking like theres some horrible smudge on my face that you
just noticed. Tats what happens if I tell you whats really in my head.
But even knowing what might happen. I want to. Want to let you know that Ive already
planned it all out. But even that isnt quite true. Ive imagined everything. I just picked the version
that best fts what we both seem to want. But maybe Im deceiving myself. I always pick the version I
want.
You say something again, and I do the familiar thing, and try to get that present look in my
eyes, like Im paying attention to something that isnt fve steps ahead. But really, I cant even remem-
ber what you say. I fall back on the script I wrote a few seconds before. Te plan for the conversation
I had. Youve gotten used to my weird conversational style. It just seems like a quirk when seen from
the outside.
Something about the cold air moves me into the moment. I pause. Hearing you talk, but not
listening.
You keep talking, and I use my mastered skill of seeming like Im really in the conversation. Making
comments, not really feeling it.
While you talk, I imagine a future I rarely entertain.
---
I imagine you asking me a variation on a question that comes up every few days.
Sometimes you get this distant look in your eyes Frank. What are you thinking about?
Nothing, just wondering what the weather is going to be like tomorrow. I lie
You nod, and start talking about the weather. Somewhere in the middle of your sentence I decide to
tell the truth
Alice. You look expectant, feeling the weight of your name on my lips. Youre giving me the small
frown I imagine you giving to our not yet born children when they do something ever so mildly bad.
do you really want to know what Im thinking?
You frown again, and look a little concerned. the way you will when the phone rings and it
tells you that you havent paid your car insurance. I saw the bill last month, it was late then too. You
nod. And I try to pay attention to the moment rather than looking at the slight questioning squint
thats going to contort your face in a few moments.
Tis is our porch in ten years. Not this porch. Well have a diferent one. I dont know what colour
its going to be. And thats our dog out in the yard. Not that dog but a diferent one, because snufes
is going to die in fve years.
You dont say anything, but surprisingly your frown doesnt deepen, so I just keep talking, and
correct from the future where you get up and tell me Im freaking you out.
And this is how were going to sit when we talk about the mortgage. Well have enough money for a
house but just barely. Its why were going to have most of the same dishes. Except for that favourite
mug of yours, thats going to break next winter.
Frank. What do you mean. do you seriously think thats going to happen.
You snort a bit of air out afer you say it, the way you will when you see the election results
three years from now and theyve elected a republican.
Tats the snort youre going to give in a few years when the new president is elected... And that
plaid dress that you wore to the beach last sunday is going to fade, but youre still going to wear it.
And Im going to patch the hole in the armpit even though you sew better. Its going to be a surprise.
Frank, what do you mean.
I know that when you use my name this much its because something has you on edge. Its
what youre going to do when I talk about losing my job. Te one Ive had for a few years. Every sen-
tence starting of with my name because it makes you feel like Im paying more attention.
Alice... I dont think Ive ever told you what Im thinking.
Frank, what do you mean... Are you breaking up with me?
I had pictured this concern in a few of the futures Id imagined, but in this one I guess it hap-
pened a bit more quickly. I correct the next few moments.
I dont know if Im really capable of being in the moment. and no, Im not breaking up with you. I
just want to explain. Tats what I was thinking. I was thinking about whats going to be.
13 14
So youre just imagining whats next?
no. Whats next already happened.
Flibertigibit. You try to throw a wrench into it.
You did something like that in fve of the twenty ways I planned this.
so now youve planned everything.
Look. there arent really words for it.
I dont think itll be the future where you mutter, bullshit, under your breath and rush of. I
picture me saying something right. Youre about to speak, but I stop you.
No. thats not right. You know how they talk about nirvana? Like, how its supposed to be being
completely in the moment. I cant imagine anything like that. I mean. I guess the only comparison
would be an infnite orgasm.
I picture you smiling a little, and then correct the future again. Tis time to what will happen,
you looking a little confused.
I cant do that. I dont think Ive ever really been in the moment.
Youre not serious.
I mean, there are blips. But even now, Ive got fve versions of this conversation running ahead of
us.
so what do I say next?
it doesnt work like that. I mean. Either you say Im lying, or maybe you say that Im just messing
with you. Teres one version where you dont say anything at all for a long time. it kind of depends
on which one I choose to go into.
so why do you get the choice
You get a choice too. You just dont take it most of the time.
Is that where youre going all the time?
Its not really a trip when youre already there.
Has it always been like this?
yes.
Do you love me.
yes.
Te concern melts a little, and I feel a bit shocked, having the unexpected come up in this fu-
ture. doesnt happen ofen. You smile at me. I dont really know why. And then you kiss me. when you
pull away you smirk again.
Its ok. We can have something like that. Im never letting you sew my plaid dress though.
I think about it, and I know Im going to do it anyway. And youll still be surprised. Tats the
future you want. Being surprised. It frightens me, not being rejected. I dont know why.
---
Ten I notice you talking again. And I remember that I havent told you anything. I guess I
look distant, because you ask me again, for the frst time today Youve disappeared on me again
Frank. What are you thinking?
Nothing. Just wondering what the weather is going to be like tomorrow. I lie.
15 16
Te Sea Now
Jared Law
Layers of flament clung to my arms as I stroked through the blackened Atlantic. Te water
was warmer than the air outside and it seemed to glow red and purple in the soot-smeared sunset.
Emily lay upon a mass of Flotsam up ahead. She claimed that the current would carry us out from
this point on and that there was no longer a need to swim.
On her wrists she wore a blue and black plastic stopwatch and a bracelet made from massed
paracord. Her hair was dark and curly and her lips were sof. Her face and shoulders were smattered
with freckles, which seemed to come up and out from deep under her skin.
I climbed onto the makeshif raf and lay down next to her. She inched closer to me and soon
we were clinging to each other for warmth and comfort. Te burning mainland faded from view.
Soon it became just another point on the horizon a tiny spark suspended in the blackness of sea
and space.
I wasnt even sure if the island that we were foating towards existed. I didnt know how far we
had gone or how long we would have to travel. I stuck my arm into the water to test the current. Te
sea pulled against my hand. It was hot and thick like honey. I closed my eyes and allowed it to pull
me into a deep sleep.

I awoke to the hoarse cries of seabirds. My eyes adjusted to the light and I saw their silhouettes
moving against the sky. I hadnt seen gulls in a long time, as all the fsh along the coast had either
migrated or died. I looked over the side of the raf and into the relatively clear water. Tousands of
sardines moved in the water around the raf. Tey fashed metallic in the suns rays, shooting past the
raf in a continuous stream.
Emily was at the other side of the raf, holding a crude net into the water. She dipped the net
into the water, waited a few seconds, and pulled it out. Each time she came up with at least fve sar-
dines, snagged by the gills and failing. She banged these fsh out into a bucket, where they fapped
around in their own watery blood.
I grabbed a tangle of fshing line and began doing the same. Te bucket flled, and our hands
became sticky with blood and fsh oil. I watched her as she pulled fsh from the net. Blood dripped
onto the meat of her thigh, which bulged out from the bottom of her shorts. I reached over to wipe
the blood away. She looked me in the eyes and grabbed my wrist. She pulled my hand from her thigh
and to her mouth. She licked the blood from my hand and pulled my fngers deep into her mouth,
cleaning of the oil with her tongue. I felt like a madman. I pulled my hand from her mouth and
grabbed her wrist. She pushed closer to me and I could feel the warmth from her body. We werent
touching, but I could feel the rate of her breath. She took hold of my other hand and raised both of
hers, so that our arms were at our chests and our palms were together. She pulled even closer to me,
until our chests pressed together and I could feel the hardness of her sternum. In a single steady mo-
tion she pushed her body onto mine and both of us of of the raf and into the water.
We began kissing and touching before we surfaced, holding each other under until our lungs
ran out of breath. Te fsh slipped past us, bumping us as they went. Finally, we managed to kick to
the surface, where we gulped for air, swallowing salt water in the process. She pushed me under again
and I grabbed one of her legs and pulled her down.
17 18
Underwater, I ran my lips against her stomach and the space between the points of her pelvis
bones. She kicked, pulling back to the surface. Above water, she grabbed my shoulders and pushed
me back down. I stayed there and tasted her and the salt water until I felt like my lungs would fll. I
felt something big brush up against my leg.
I surfaced and gulped for air. I saw a panicked look in her eyes. She didnt push me under
again. We stayed in place, foating together in the current. Our bodies pressed together, but small
pockets of water remained. Te water grew colder in the space between our shirts and skin.
We sat in the water for a long time. Maybe we were frozen with fear, or maybe neither of us
cared enough to separate. I looked down into the current of sardines. Deep below us, I could see
multiple points where their streams split, making room for dark, slow-moving shapes.
As I focused on the water, I saw further and further down. Tere were defnitely things moving
down there. Teir presence was denoted only by the splitting and scattering of sardines. Tese dark
fgures lef small wakes of absence amongst the many fashing bodies. Tere seemed to be hundreds
of these things. Some of them were close to us.
I could feel Emilys hands on my shoulders. Tey felt cold and small, even though I knew that
they werent. Te gulls had gone silent and the sky was opaque and empty once again. A gust of cold
air ripped across the mirrored surface of the sea.
Black plastic rubbed against our intertwined arms, shocking us out of our stupor. Te current
had pushed the raf and our bodies back together. We took stock, untangled and climbed onto the
heap.
We kept our eyes on the sea, watching the shadows as they moved under the raf, bumping and
shifing it.

Te shadows were probably sharks. Tey are amongst the oldest animals on earth prehistoric
creatures that exist in a world divorced from our own. Tey are said to be unfeeling and intentionless
creatures. Maybe they are monstrosities called back from ancient times. Maybe they rise from the
shadows of oblivion to consume us. Perhaps they are not so monstrous. Maybe we fear them because
they represent unconscious and hungry elements within ourselves.
I imagine my own face refected on the surface of the water. I imagine a growing shadow. I
imagine another face appearing and breaking the surface. Its eyes are empty and its mouth seems to
draw me in.
We did not board the fotsam seeking a future. We boarded it seeking a remote place where we
could shed all context and free ourselves from the burden of hope. Perhaps we could still get there,
but in this moment we were surrounded by sharks and sardines.
~
I had meant for the sea to represent a single night. Te current that carried the two lovers
should have represented the delirious path that we traveled through it. I wanted to capture the hope
and fear that I felt that night and the quiet disappointment of the following morning. Now that mem-
ory is remote.
One can begin a story intending to talk about love or loss but fnd themselves adrif without
a clear destination. Ive lost the moment that I was trying to describe. It is buried amongst the trash
that collects on the sea of memory. Te characters became shadows of themselves and their move-
ments are now erratic. I no longer understand their context or motivation. Tey should have stood
for real people, but I can no longer pretend to understand these people.
I can no longer pretend to understand the character who should have stood for me. I feel more
like the shark. Hungry, buried, an ill omen.
~
Fearfully, I asked Emily to say that she loved me. She said that she had told me enough times
already. In time, the sardines thinned out and fnally passed us. Te shadows moved on with them.
We were, once again, foating above an abyss.
19 20
Lo<3 poem
Maegan Faller
Heres a morsel for you to gnaw on.
A nice, thick fllet of poetry
moving straight to your haunches.
Words to make your hair raise
make you start out of your den.
Ill love you bloody
cutting canine hunger,
fangs unfeigned.
Ill love you smothered:
with one sick twist
your dove neck split.
You coo coyly, then not at all.
Stars spectate with snaggletooth grins.
My mind a garden
where things crawl on their bellies
turn over, die.
My mind an open letter
to a mass grave.
A tan young thing, spitting pretty.
I imagine her resting
in the warm lining of my stomach.
21 22
Tumbleweed
Nick Nordlinger
She wandered toward the image until it faded, glimmering into the surrounding heat; a brain
fever.
Oh, a weak sound of despair creaked from her mouth as her knees gave and she fell. Te hot desert
sand enveloped her cloaked body.
She had been chasing the mirage for a day, her second day in the desert.
Tree days before, in the city, the crisis had turned all heads in her direction and she had made the
usual answer of the Prophetess: I will take to the desert and consult with the Lord, and not eat, and
not drink, until He speaks to me.
But her physical needs had refused to be ignored, and she had seen the distant oasis, and chased it,
until it was revealed as a ghost of her frailty conjured by her weak spirit and the cruel noon sun.
Now she lay face down in the sand on the horizon she had sought. Te new horizon, empty at
the edges of her vision, ofered no illusions.
She cried, losing more precious water. It had been this way since the Lord wrought his Fire.
No more Water, the Fire next time, He had promised strange aeons passed, and it had come to pass,
the great Fire, the rise of the mad, the mechanical, the alien, the diseasedand small pockets of the
Righteous, hiding in the old Holy places, the deserts, the gardens
the search for Eden continued fruitlessly, and open ears awaited the instruction of their vengeful
God.
But He turned away, ashamed of his people. He should have considered survivors of the Fire as
wheat against the chaf, as Noah and his family had been. But God had not intended survivors. Tose
who had survived were not chosen, as Noahs kin had been, rather they were lucky or crafy. God had
underestimated them, not spared them.
So she had come, as many Prophets before her, to the Great Desert, the same desert as Moses,
Christ, Mohammed, all ancient wanderers seeking to fnd God in their fagellence, in their propin-
quity to death.
But behind her eyelids she saw revitalizing water in place of God, another temptation of the Fiend.
She cried into the sand. What was this quintessence of dust? God had forsaken all. Te Flood had
been a cleansing, but the Fire had been only rage. And afer the Fire there could be no further cleans-
ings. Dusted, dry body, cracked lips, sticky mouth and eyes, sweaty, muddy skinthe lost Prophetess
cried. She wondered how it was her silver tongue had won the peoples ears.
Sister Nimia, what shall we do?
23 24
What is the Will of God Sister Nimia?
Sister, what has the Lord said unto you?
And she had looked at them, wrought with seething impotence, inhaled deeply and answered frmly
that she would withdraw to this lifeless expanse, and await the Mercy.
But here she was, taunted by the Fiend, and near death. And no voice spoke to her but the wind.
* * *
Later, as the Sun dipped into its descent, casting shadows from behind the distant dunes, as the
Death-Dreams flled her dozing thoughts, she heard, through her sand-packed ears, a faint, repetitive
beeping noise.
It came from a distance, and at frst she thought it a trick of the ear, a fnal ringing as her eardrums
were corrupted by gust afer gust of sand and dust.
But it grew louder, closer.
She looked up, wiped the sand, both desert and organic, from her eyes and saw a small, refective
cylinder beeping and rolling over a nearby rise, a small light blinking from it with each beep. It rolled
and beeped and blinked closer until she saw it for a small robot, a prototypical model from long
before the Fire, long before the construction of the Great Machines that had facilitated the Fire, that
had developed minds, when the only artifcial minds were such small, harmless, sonorous, cylinders
of steel.
It rolled to a stop beside her. Its beeping was replaced by a mechanical voice, that was high in pitch
and tuned for melody, so that it sounded kind and human.
As-salamu alayki the robot spoke.
She looked at it closely, through her gritty eyes, and saw that it was a tube of metal with a speaker on
the face of it, a solar panel on the back, rolling on two small tires that kept its central body lifed from
the ground. It somersaulted end over end for movement.
Hello, she said in a cracked, voice.
Hello, the Robot responded, adjusting its language setting.
For a moment neither spoke. Te whooshing wind flled the silence. She examined the still robot
and recognized it as an APAM, an All-Purpose Assistant Model, ofen used to clean houses, retrieve
items or perform basic tasks. She couldnt think what to say to itwhat of Godwhat of her fallen
Faith and hopeless Idolatry and only said, water,
It made a cranking, whining noise as its wheels tilted back, almost as though it were looking up at
her with its speaker-face.
I detect water in three locations within a mile from here, it answered.
She inhaled in a sharp rasp. Get it, she begged.
Retrieve water from nearest location and bring it to you? the Robot asked.
Please.
Te Robot stayed still, looking up at her.
Yes, she said.
It tumbled backwards over itself and began once more to beep in a consistent tone as it sought of
over the dunes and away.
She watched it go. When it was out of sight she became sure it had been another illusion, another
tantalization of the Fiend.
She dropped her face back into the sand and tried to fnd painless sleep.
* * *
And later a voice did come to her, a voice like God.
Nimia, it spoke, deep in tone from deep below. Nimia get up. Nimia, keep walking, you are so
close to my kingdom, to my touch.
But she knew it was the voice of the Fiend, the Wolf in Sheeps clothing.
I renounce you, she whispered, hoarsely, attempting a defant scream, a hissing relic of the strength
the Prophetess had once boasted.. I renounce you Fiend! Out Satan!
Te voice inside her head laughed. Renounce me? Renounce me! All you do is renounce me. I am
still here. I still feed. And your hope in the Lord keeps you weak.
I renounce you both! And this time her voice went full, loud, and strong.
I renounce the cruelty of the Fiend and the neglect of God! I renounce the Faith of the Spirit in my
wretchedness! I renounce the Father and the Fallen Angel!
Te Voice in her head gasped and wisped away in a gust she heard within, a sly breeze from her gut.
Nimia then, for the frst time in her life, felt completely alone.
* * *
As the light on the horizon died, the light behind her eyes brightened, the light at the end of
the long tunnel toward which she drifed. It was not God, nor the Fiend; it was but the Exit from the
dry body in which she sufered. Her mind abandoned its spiritual ambitions and helplessly festered
in the needs of the fesh. She thought of Food, Water, she thought of Sleep, soon to come, she thought
of Comradery and Security from within her own desperate, skyward-gazing community. She thought
of Afection. She craved it.
Across the cold desert, which appeared to be a great, purple ocean, and her own body a plank
of drifwood, she heard a familiar sound, a repetitive tone beeping across the waves toward her. At
frst she saw, in the distant swell, a dinghy, rolling over and over itself in the unsure tides, a little
lighthouse, warning her of rocks on which she would soon crash. She looked in its direction with her
fnal vision, and hopedbut did not pray.
It came into view, a woman, a sleek, dark woman with black hair braided down to heir waist,
long, sun-kissed arms and a thick, strong body. It was the woman Nimia had dreamed of every night,
in Afection and Lust and what she had until then considered Frailty. Te Girl of her Dreams. She
was moving toward Nimia, not walking, nor crawling, but rolling on her side, joyously rolling down
the far dune, calling in a staccato, beeping laugh. Finally she was lying beside Nimia, smiling up,
smelling of deep woman and mammalian warmth.
I have retrieved the water as you instructed, the Dream Girl said. Shall I dispense it into your
mouth?
Nimia summoned the strength to hover above the Dream Girls face, which beamed up; a cienna
raindrop of beauty, big cheeks, thick eyebrows, full lips, every muscle contorted in an expression of
25 26
adoration. Nimia began to cry, surprised there were any tears lef in her, and then slowly lowered and
kissed the Dream Girl on her cold, hard lips. Te Dream Girl smiled and requited the kiss, shooting
a lusty tongue of cold relief into Nimias mouth, down her throat, flling her, lubricating the slow cogs
of her organs back to action.
It was the best kiss of her life, a kiss of life. Te Dream Girl kept smiling, lips locked, feeding Nimia
like a mother bird.
And Nimia had found her new Deity, not a God but a Goddess, her beautiful desert Dream Girl with
a Kiss of Water.
Sated, bloated, she held her lover close, and fell into a refreshed sleep.
* * *
When she awoke the Dream Girl was gone. Te sun was beginning to rise but the desert was
not yet oppressively hot.
She stood, and sensed new strength in her quenched and rested fesh. She felt as though she had
communed with someone special, someone she had known a long time. She couldnt place it, a drif-
ing dream memory taken by the whipping wind.
All she saw were two small tire trails in the sand, leading far away.
Texts from Exsulo
Matt Wong
======= 1
Te frst night we met in an empty library basement, made love while standing between those aisles
flled with endless rows of unread books and made sure not to reactivate the motion-sensors for the
lights, pausing every now and then to read a few words by the great Marxist himself. Te next time,
we went to the third foor and read from Te Journal of Genetic Psychology, 151|1991.
Siblings have also been found to have an efect on legal drug use (tobacco, alcohol) as well as illegal
drug use.
He always had his own way with things, which made him by far the most unusual person that I have
ever met. He was always struggling to fnd his place in a world flled with social conventions. He
broke most of the unspoken rules and lived like a renegade. Most people in this world strive to reach
a state of equilibrium between themselves and their environment, but he had long passed any of that
kind of sensibility. When we kissed, I couldnt tolerate his breathe, but there are worse things in life
that one must deal with. Te pleasure was inordinate. It would be difcult to describe the feeling that
came to me each time we snook into the library, though it was the sense of mischief that excited me
most. Te only way I could describe him was having a sense of urgency from deep within that drove
him to all his greatest ecstasies and depressions. It will always be a one man battle, Exsulo against the
world.
Te third time we met up, the security ofcer on patrol had walked by not too long afer we began. I
spotted him in the corner of my eye dressed in a white shirt, with blue suspenders and a walkie-talkie
that wouldnt stop making buzzing noises. Exsulo is a pretty big fellow and comes of as intimidating
to some. Tat didnt stop the ofcer from attempting to dislodge our birding session.
Copy-over. Jonah to Front Desk. (Go Ahead). I am reporting a suspect Tree-Five-Oh disturbance
between a man and young woman, clear. he zapped into his walkie-talkie. (I did not know they had
a special code reserved for PDA.) He cautiously approached us, then spoke directly to Exsulo. Tis
behavior is not permitted on the grounds of this library. Id have to ask you two to step your way out
and conduct your love-making business outside the premises.
Exsulo found this comment to be a monstrosity, as with most of his encounters with the law or fg-
ures of power. No doubt, he was himself considered a monstrosity to many people which earned him
a certain reputation, even within his own department. While he had the support from a handful of
old friends, he was faced with a never-ending pile of monstrosities that lined his vision of the world.
Exsulo coughed slowly. Grabbing me by the waist, he addressed the ofcer. Are we violating the sac-
rosanct rules of this glorious institution? Have we disrupted your amiable and/or defenseless society,
or are you insinuating that are we doing the world, or yourself, a grievous disservice in the name of
love? With all due respect, Ofcer Prickly Holmes, we are having a short and private study-break -- a
27 28
relief from this mad-house of institutions. Meanwhile, he paused. Va te faire foutre. Go fuck your-
self, in French. He spoke immaculately, to a T. He was multilingual only in small phrases that he had
a dastardly way of using as ofand remarks. Unlike most people, he couldnt care less if the other
person didnt understand a lick the foreign language, because the whole mystery of the phrase and
his articulation had the exact efect he intended. I had to avert my gaze and grabbed some part of his
monstrosity of a body, because the scene was about to get quite ugly real fast.
======== 2
One time, Exsulo told me the story about how he had become the designated wine-opener for his
family. At that time he was only around four, and fortunately his family owned one of those retract-
able lever-arm openers, which was really the only possible way he could get the cork out with all his
strength. So the story went that at one family dinner, he had been assigned to open a bottle of none
other than a vintage 1985 Zinfandel from the well-known Chateau Margaux DAmelie. He couldnt
fnd the opener contraption, so instead he took out one of those regular swiss-army knife corkscrews.
In the process he had not inserted the tip of the corkscrew into cork far enough, so the top half of the
cork was sheared from the bottom half stuck in the bottle. During his second attempt, the cork fell
into the bottle, and all the cork bits were spread all about in the wine. Exsulo would never forgot that
night, because his father forced him do hundreds of cork-opening exercises for the next week just
to make sure he would not make the same mistake twice. And while hes told this story to just about
everybody he meets at the New Caz, he never discusses his fathers cork screwing exercises in detail.
Instead, one is forced to imagine what kind of serpentine ways Exsulos father had devised to get his
son never to drop the cork in the bottle. Once, when I pressed him for the details, Exsulo added,
Lots and lots of wood. All his stories follow this kind of strange and captivating logic with a twist
and the end.
We had to stop going to the library for our sessions because the two of us had no doubt made it on
to the Most Wanted list of the library security personnel. Te fnal two or three times we met,
we stopped at the Psychology and Psychoanalysis section, in the BL-BF section. Te novelty of our
encounters (Romance in a time of pathological studying) was fnally starting to grow thin and
perilous regarding both our statuses fully-funded students of the university, but our mutual love for
reading grew in strength. Once, we only had a reading session, where we found books that had the
word cognitive in them. Cognitive psychology, cognitive therapy, metacognition, and so forth. You
really couldnt see a more plain and vanilla Exsulo when he was reading. He ofen read from academ-
ic journals because it was required for him as a PhD student in the department of Psychology. One
typically asks, but nobody knows exactly how long hes been with the program. Id reckon that hes in
his 10th year already. Possibly even longer, but thats just my best guess. Its real hard to say because
I dont think hes particularly sure himself. Its one of his buttons, and Ive learned early on not to go
there. Sometimes I wonder, If hes still getting funding, then whats the big deal? When the same
surly security ofcer spotted us at our reading session, Exsulo gave him the fnger, and I bet we kept
our positions quite high on the list of suspected thugs and vagrants.

======= 3
Despite our ostensibly bad behavior, Im actually a student in the school of veterinary medicine.
Exsulo and I met during my frst year. We both had similarly demanding schedules, and we invari-
ably saw each other at the same places, where we mastered the craf of hanging out, studying, and
romance -- sometimes all at the same time. Tats the nice part about being a full-time student, but
only for those who are serious about it. Tey say that in college you have to choose to sleep, study, or
socialize, but all the smart kids just studied all day and night and built a decent social life out of that.
And the smartest wizards probably found a way of combining their sleep with studying and social-
izing. Its pretty much an established fact that our brains have quite the study jam in the dark hours
of the night, during our deep sleep. Tese are the kind of facts that Exsulo might tell you, only if you
said something repulsively obvious in his face.
His renown for comedic variation has became quite legendary in our small college town, and never-
theless it is still the frst thing people notice when they met him for the frst time. Like all the great
comedic personalities, he saw beyond the normal and struck at the mundane. With strangers, he
possessed a way of insulting and joking at the same time, so you were never too sure to respond by
laughter or retaliation. If you ever hesitated or resisted any of his innumerable assertions, he would
simply hurl at you, Update your mind! in a Mark Zuckerberg impression, then adding, in a stagger-
ingly good Austrian-accent, Right now! Did he ever go overboard? Absolutely. Was he ever worried
about it? Highly improbable. Tats the biggest diference between a comedic genius and a regular
funny person. Being funny always carries a risk. I dont think most people saw him as a comedic
genius, but all the trademarks were there, Im sure of it, even if I dont see or care about him much
anymore these days.
======= 4
We bonded very quickly, like one of those few, classic friendships that you encounter once every few
years, if youre lucky.
He would later tell me that the progress at which we formed our friendship and partnership was the
most promising sign of the extent of our relationship. We both spotted the progress right away, but I
never quite shared this belief with him. He was willing to wager that we would be together within the
frst ten seconds of making eye-contact.
At the time he was very interested in studying higher-order reactions, almost like a scientist study-
ing how two chemicals interact, except he was referring to highly complex interactions that involved
two or more people, especially the frst time they meet. He loved examining reactions because they
were fast, nearly instantaneous, and occurred before we have time to deploy our advanced cognitive
mechanisms of rational thought. Reactions were the most honest account of ourselves and of our
prejudices, he said, so they can ofer us glimpses of truths long before any detailed examination of
behavior and presentation.
He stuck around cofee shops like the New Caz because he loved to surround himself with these
reactions, and he himself was a great catalyst in the process. Tats what he called it when he helped
introduce two people to each other. He was incubating his own social experiments within the con-
fnes of a public meeting place, a place with more unpredictable factors than any experiment he
could recreate in the lab.
29 30
Hed wager that attraction was destiny, and that the stronger a relationship or talent started of, the
stronger or less time it would take to reach the absolute maximum that can be attained. Conversely,
the longer it for two people to get along, the less likely that that relationship would progress succinct-
ly or come into fruition. He was really stating that rate was correlated to the fxed ceiling which we
have to base the theoretical extent of our abilities or passions, and he applied this concept to all kinds
of things, like friendship, romance, sports, and music. If he were correct, then it would say quite lot
about how we should make friends and pick which interests to cultivate. I criticized his pet theory,
stating that the masses are ofen driven to ludicrous heights by their afection for celebrities, and I
fgured nothing meaningful would result if a fan established a long-term relationship with his or her
desired celebrity. But he argued back, stating that people were attracted to celebrities had their attrac-
tion sealed at immediate exposure, and the strength of that bond was really a matter of the severity of
attraction. It was also a bizarre attraction that went in one direction, too.
He loved to discuss these topics, and the more we talked, the more I realized that we were in fact get-
ting along at a fairly quick pace, hastening his very own conclusion about the way we make friends
and lovers.
======= 5
With most people, the barriers that prevent two people from getting to know each other can high,
and if conditions are suboptimal, they can be prohibitively high. For instance, if thirty people go to a
cofee shop because theyre all lonely, theres still a very high probably that most of them will go home
lonely. Its not that they dont want to meet each other, because surely they are at the minimum in
search of some form of company, it is that the conditions around themselves (i.e. being shy, or hav-
ing the fear of being awkward in front of others) are not optimal. Now, one way to increase the rate
of reaction -- the reaction being the moment two people bump into each other, like molecules inside
a test tube -- would be to add a catalyst. Which could be as simple as introducing a mutual acquain-
tance into the mixture, or including something two people share in common, such as a similar taste
in music or a textbook they both use. Another way would be to alter the environment itself, as if you
added heat or UV radiation to a solution. You might want to check if the test tube if it is clean or
soiled, or if the people arent spread evenly throughout -- evidently showing a lack of homogeneity.
In idealized conditions -- well call it perfect mixing -- we have a candle-lit room with loud, upbeat
music and open space for people who dont know each to hold hands and dance or chat obnoxiously
loudly.
======= 6
Exsulo was always fond of somewhat dated expressions like fortnight, which he used with great
pomp and regularity, but he also expanded his vernacular to include words such as semimonthly (24/
year), sennight (1 week), ke (14 minutes and 24 seconds) megasec (short for megasecond, or 10^6
seconds, approximately 11.6 days), and moment (an medivael way of saying 90 seconds). He used
these unorthodox measurements of time with such impunity, ofen cutting and dicing as he pleased
(e.g. We have only one fortnight and a quarter-megasecond to get things done, so wed better hur-
ry.) He spoke loudly and vehemently against pennies and recycling, and he always accused the av-
erage person of misunderstanding the signifcance of signifcant fgures. Ten hed go on and joke
about his own signifcant fgure, if you can imagine what that means. So it was quite ironic when I
found that he held a grudge against Imperial fgures and touted the metric for its dimensional homo-
geneity and scientifc wholesomeness.
One of his favorite expressions, which he uses every now and then when hes feeling more or less
famished, is Im feeling quite carnivorous! Ten he added, with the Austrian elocution, Right
now! Now, this might not seem very funny to you, and thats because it is only half of the story. One
night when we were at a Zagat-rated restaurant, he told me that at the age of four, during a routine
trip to the diner, he had discovered from his older brother that the meat inside his burger patty had
come from a living, breathing animal. Since Exsulo was fond of all animals, this had a deeply pro-
found and upsetting efect on him as a boy. He then fought an losing proposition against his brother,
resisting and casting aside the truth until the burden of proof spoke against him. Ten he cried, like
he never cried before, and to this day he remembers the sense of helpless and the tragic realization
from that evening. In some way, hes quite noteworthy for acknowledging it whenever he eats meat
-- which Ive realized is a conscientious decision on his part. Since I am a vegetarian, I fnd that most
meat-eaters indulge in their feeding habits without being aware of the existence or death of animals
in the process. For Exsulo, it was one way of fnding the laughter in slaughter. Even now, I am conf-
dent that he will become a vegetarian, but he would never tell anyone about it because he has far too
much pride.
======= 7
People ofen ask him a lot about his name. Where do it come from? What language does it come
from? Is it Biblical? Te thing is, nobody really knows. Hes never told me, not even the slightest
hint of clue. He is immensely private about that stuf. Since I am guessing that its his fake name, the
only people who know his real name are his parents and the people who he works with closely, like
his advisor and the administrative staf. Tat may seem like a lot of people, but absolutely none of his
closest friends or from my circle of acquaintances know. Hes managed to sell this image of himself
using this Exsulo extremely well, considering how private information is easier to access than ever
before. Perhaps hed rung up the National Bureau of Names and Identities and had his name ofcially
changed. Tats some measure of how serious or secretive he gets when it comes down to it.
If youd asked me, I think I know that his name was made up. Completely, and unapologetically.
Tats because once, I managed to creep up on him at the New Caz. He had taken a seat near the
front and the cashier register. He loved this seat in particular, and since he was one of the biggest
customers of the cofee shop, it was almost as if he had this seat and table cleaned and reserved just
for his arrival. (Note: It was him alone, in fact, who was responsible for attracting a large infux of
customers from the Psychology department, who now regularly meet to discuss and incubate new
ideas there. Tis generated new business and revenue for the New Caz, giving Exsulo a somewhat
more favorable impression by the staf, despite his eccentricities and occasional outbursts. Either they
found the beneft-to-negative ratio to still be slightly on the positive end, or that they really didnt
mind, or even enjoy, his antics.) What I saw was a quiet, focused, and contemplative Exsulo with
a large sketch pad in front, his right hand holding a calligraphy pen. He was engaged in one of his
favorite pastimes, which was writing bogus Latin on various lines, underlining and bolding words as
31 32
he went. By then, he had written:
Exsulo defacto di la meastriatium. Exsulo di facti corporitadus.
Exsulo summa cumma lordum.
Exsulo te demonstrati. Exsulto demotari totas vocifericas fasulo.
Vani Vede Vichi
It may seem like an incredibly idiotic way to kill time -- coming up with your own scripture -- and
luckily I took out my camera-phone and snapped an picture to record the evidence. Aferward, I
walked around to greet him with a hug and kiss. Almost immediately he withdrew back and threw
his scratch pad into his messenger bag. He drew a small hanky from his pocket and wiped his brow.
Me: So, whats up man? What was that you were working on?
Exsulo: Oh, its for an art class that I just added.
Me: But its almost halfway through the semester? Now?
Exsulo: Tats why I gotta work hard and catch up with all the little kids.
Me: Oh. Is everybody an undergraduate?
Exsulo: Yes. Its a class designed specifcally for freshman. Whats worse, nobody in it has a damn
clue what art is.
Me: Tats a pretty tough question.
Exsulo: I know. Te class was not impacted so Im allowed to take it.
Me: Te instructor told you to write your thoughts in that?
Exsulo: Its called Calligraphy, capital C. Do you know what that is?
Me: Yeah, kind of.
Exsulo: No, thats not possible.
Me: Its like writing words with style.
Exsulo [resolutely] Yeah. Tats exactly what it is!
Me: But thats not the same as art.
Exsulo: Everybody needs a way of warming up? You dont just dance Swan Lake when you get up in
the morning, do you?
======= 8
Jokes never absolve someone of the harm and guilt they may cause. Rather the opposite is true. Most
comedians know and firt around with this principle. It is much easier to behave cruel toward some-
one if it is funny. Tis is the deadly principle of comedy.
======= 9
Once, Exsulo introduced me to a few of his researcher friends.
Exsulo: Tis is my mothers favorite rappers ex-fancee.
======= 10
Once, we went to see a beneft concert with the San Francisco Symphony. Te guest conductor
aboard was a good-looking guy from Turkey who had on this evening a bit too much loose change in
his pockets. From our seats, we could only hear constant sound of jingling of coins inside his pock-
ets, which were audible whenever he moved vigorously to guide the music. Tis seemed very iron-
ic, especially since we were all handed free cough drops before the music started. At the end of the
Brahms 4th Symphony, when the audience went into auto-applause mode, I found it convenient to
ask Exsulo some questions.
Me: Exsulo, if you couldnt be called Exsulo anymore, what would you be called?
Exsulo [afrmatively]: Rapunzel.
Me: What if that was already taken?
Exsulo [quickly]: Jebedius Sactus dEspiritus IV.
He had his entire backup plan in working order. He didnt even smile or react. Tis was the degree to
which he was serious about his name.
Exsulo: I cant tolerate conductors much.
Me: Oh yeah?
Exsulo: Teyre so damn pretentious.
Me: I can see that.
33 34
Exsulo: If this were my orchestra, if I ran this place, then there has a hierarchy built in place with
the conductor on the top. Tis is the status quo, so dont quote me on it. If, for any reason, during
the middle of a beneft concert, the conductor is taken out stone cold by a .416 Barrett sniper rife
coming from out in the 3rd-upper-tier balcony, then the next in command is the 1st violinist, who is
legally obligated to give up his admirable post to become the conductor for the remainder of the sea-
son. Perhaps doing his job on top of the dead conductor, if necessary. If the same sniper knocks out
the 1st violinist, then the timpanist must take his place. And this goes on and on until the last person
standing, who is ofen the person playing the harp or triangle. See? Tis world is a dangerous world
we live in and we need backup plans for everything.
Me: But what if nobody knows how to conduct the orchestra?
Exsulo: Tats all perfunctory. Nobody really needs to know, anyways. Truth is its all fne acting.
Me: What if the name Jebedius was already taken?
Exsulo: If I had a fourth name, it would be Johannes. Johannes. Twice in row.
======= 11
Once, Exsulo had to give a speech that for the undergraduate Psychology department. He had
dragged me to the event, and I only pretended to resist going. Why they picked him, of all student in
the department, is a truly great mystery, but the topic and theme of his speech was absolutely mysti-
fying on another level. He had written a speech and powerpoint about how he was the best person
you would ever meet in the world.
Exsulo: Id like to thank the Dodson-Dickerson-Dodson (3 Ds) Foundation for their generation
support. Without them, Ill practically be at zero and broke.
Exsulo: Id also like to thank the Kornshoah-Walter-Wallam-Allah Foundation for their generous
underwriting, as well as the Madeline and Grooves Charity for support my endeavors.
He could go on like that for hours, I swear. He was the master bullshit artist, if you ever saw any.
Exsulo: Today, I must admit with great empathy to all that I am the most important person you will
ever meet on campus . . .
======== 12
Youll see Exsulo if you visit downtown. Ofen, hes at the New Caz, with some of his researcher
friends in the same department. Last time I saw him, he was sitting at the New Caz with a fat stack of
papers.
Whenever he has to grade, he had an uneasy expression on his face. Tere a good reason why, but we
can discuss that later.
A Cross Between Two Evils
Diana Mabel Cruz
I sat in my usual corner, clinging my radio to my ear.
shhhh. Its still winter, it said to me.
Did the groundhog get scared? I asked.
Yes, it replied. Six more weeks.
I slumped back against the wall and knocked my head against the frosted window. I exhaled and
watched the glass turn from a transparent crystal clear shine against the clouded sky to a blurry gray
patch of water vapor. My fngertips traced outlines of the bars outside of the window as I began wish-
ing that they would fnd someone to fx the clock above the swinging doors. Its been stuck on 10:47
for days and Ive lost a way of tracking the time Ive spent in here.
I wiped my breath of the glass as I made out a white van rolling into the parking lot below that was
accompanied by two police cars and a string of road cars following close behind. We heard the slams
as two men in white suits hopped out of the front seats and popped the back door open. Cameramen
and reporters trickled out of their cars and sped to the front doors.
Tey were bringing someone else in. Te van gave that away but the police cars and media frenzy
were new to this common scene.
Te room buzzed with energy as patients gravitated towards the windows to catch the frst glimpse of
our new cell mates.
Tey pulled him out... then another one... and another one.... Tree handcufed men were pulled out
of the white van each one still in their court clothes.
Chatters and whispers hung overhead as the patients voiced their concerns- some to each other oth-
ers to themselves.
I moved away from the window and brushed past the crowd.
Who are they? I asked my radio.
Te scarecrows.
A band?
A gang.
Why are they here?
To set you free.
My grip on the radio increased as I pressed it frmly against my chest, trying to keep my heart from
beating out of it. I slipped the radio back into my sweater pocket and sank into the wooden chair
furthest from the swinging doors.
Te bells rang- reminding us that recreation time was over. We were about to be forced back into our
rooms.
I caught a glimpse of one of them downstairs as they walked us through the halls. His forest green
eyes hit me frst. Tey hid behind shagging dark brown hair. He received my smile from above with a
smirk down below.
I pulled my radio out again when I got back to my cot.
I met someone today, Nana.
I know, I was there.
35 36
I want to know his name.
Teres always tomorrow, Jillian.
I curled myself up and embraced the radio, ready for sleep to take me.

First Impressions
Rapid rasping on the door woke me as usual and for once, I shot up eagerly. Nurses carefully walked
through the corridors and unlocked our doors. I poked my head out and combed the sea of of white
gowns that were being led outside. When I failed to fnd them, I joined the cattle headed towards the
dismal patches of dying grass of the courtyard. Tursdays were outside days for my sector.
I took my time as I walked towards the tree that shaded the courtyard, admiring its long sturdy
branches. I lay my cardigan down on the muddy soil beside the tree and rested against the trunk,
carefully minding the thorns of the branches that hung down. I tilted my head up and soaked in the
clouds as the suns rays fought to get through the thick layer of grey in the sky.
Its Australian, ya know? I jumped at the sudden voice. It was him.
What is? I replied.
Tis tree. Like me.
I smiled. Youre a poet.
Maybe. I could be. What are you?
Crazy. I sighed as I moved aside and made room for him on my cardigan.
What kind? He asked as he lit a cigarette beside me.
Te I-Dont-Belong-Here kind.
Ah, the manic depressive.
Whats your name? I asked curiously.
Jack. He extended his right hand.
I laughed as I shook it.
It began to rain and the whistles blew- luring us back inside. I watched the drops bounce of our
hands as they remained intertwined.
How is he going to get me out of here, Nana? I watched the radio waiting for a response as I wrung
my hair dry in my room.
Shhh. Up the hill. It said.
What? I stopped what I was doing.
Jack falls down. It whispered.
Tats not funny. I said unnervingly.
Shhh. And youll go tumbling afer. I threw my pillow on top of the radio attempting to mufe the
static laughter that it emitted. It went on for hours.
Medicated Romance
Tanks, I said as I walked away with my daily paper cup. Two little blue pills looked back at me. I
brought them to my mouth and felt a severe yank on my arm.
Do you know whats in what they give you? Jacks breath grazed my face.
Its supposed to make me feel better. I replied as I pulled my arm out of his grasp.
It turns you into a void. Ive told you I dont like when youre on them.
I shrugged as I made another attempt to take them. He slapped them out of my hands.
Its lithium carbonate. Too much of it and your kidneys start give out. Do you know how many
people they killed fguring that one out? I rolled my eyes as I searched the foor for the capsules. He
looked around the room and reached for his pockets. See this? A syringe fashed between his fn-
gers. I nabbed it of a nurse when they were shooting us up with sodium pentothal before the trial.
What are you going to do with it? I frowned.
You have to be a part of the plan if you wanna hear more.
I sighed apprehensively. Hold on I turned around and moved towards my own pockets to consult
my radio. Nana, should I trust him?
sshh. No.
But you said he may be my only ticket out of here.
Trust yourself.
I turned around and nodded.
He raised an eyebrow as his eyes lingered on my radio. He shot me that familiar smirk.
Groovy. Arthur and Frank have been gathering enough pills to make a serum. Te nurses dont
seem to mind you. Youre going to keep them distracted while we pump this stuf into the guards.
Once theyre out Ill come back to fnd you and then well run. His green eyes lit up with enthusiasm
at his plan. Take this one, just in case you need it tomorrow- theyre making more, He whispered
stealthily into my ear as he slipped a syringe into the pocket that cradled my radio.
I stuck to my cot the next morning. As ready as I thought I was to leave these walls, I cant deny that
theres a part of me that feels safer that I ever have within them. I dont have to worry about getting
anywhere on time, dont have any bills to pay, no deadlines to meet, and no one to impress. Time
moves on and I just exist without purpose. It wasnt until Jack came in that I began shifing my pri-
orities. Spending time with him eases the loneliness but keeping up with his expectations can be
exhausting. Maybe its because I never had a good example of a successfully functioning couple in my
life. Maybe institutionalized love isnt possible. Or maybe it doesnt make a diference whether youre
in here or out. I guess I wont know the diference until Im on the other side of the barbed wire fenc-
es.
Escape
I held the attention of the nurses in the feeding room as I watched Jack, Arthur, and Frank pull the
syringes from their pockets and take down the guards closest to the doors from the corner of my
eyes. Jack signaled and disappeared down the fight of stairs.
I gravitated around the room and targeted each overseer that remained. Frank and Arthur watched
me as I fddled with the aluminum wrapped ping pong balls they gave me in my pockets. Tey set
theirs on each corner of the room as I sank under the table in the middle of the room. I struck a
match against a fle and lit the tips.
I heard the commotion that followed hissing as smoke quickly spewed out and flled the room. I held
my breath and squinted- making out two fgures rushing towards the doors. I raced behind them and
quickly helped barricade the doors.
I caught a glimpse of Jack from the window upstairs. He had made it outside and was siphoning gas
from the cars in the parking lot.
We heard bodies running towards us when we made it to the frst foor. Jack must have missed these
two. I slipped behind the closest pillar as I heard shots being fred. Te sound of bodies collapsing
preceding the sound of feet hitting the stairs running as they followed the trapped screams in the
room above.
37 38
Tunder boomed in the distance as the rain started back up when I made it to the doors that led
outside.
Te smell of wet grass and gasoline flled my lungs as I watched Jack splash the liquid all over the
room.
Where are the guys? he asked angrily.
I-I dont know, they got caught. I said out of breath. What are you doing?
Dont you get it? Tis way theyll think there were no survivors! We can make it out of here alive
without a price hanging over our heads. He forced his hand into my pockets and pulled out my ra-
dio.
Give it back. I said slowly.
You wont be needing it anymore he said as he fung it across the room.
He held me back. Teres no time, I have a car running outside. Weve got to leave now!
I pulled out the syringe hiding in the sleeve of my cardigan and jabbed the needle into his side, press-
ing my thumb against the plunger and emptying the contents of the barrel into his bloodstream.
I heard the guards moving back down the stairway. I stepped outside and lit my last match, tossing it
inside the building.
Nana always said to trust myself and no one else. I knew I loved him but I love myself more.
Te running car took me in as a wave of sirens approached distantly. Te roar of the fames danced
melodically with the ones of the people. I drove of into the morning sky. Te trees on the road were
beginning to blossom. I felt the warmth of the suns rays meet my face as the clouds began to clear. I
turned the dial on the radio. Spring was here and I was free.
A Renewed Friendship
Previn Witana
James looked out at the pastoral meadows from inside the cab. Had it really been that long? He won-
dered. It was James frst trek back into his hometown afer leaving for college 5 years ago. It seemed
as if time had lef the land around him unchanged. Autumn was in full swing on this Friday afer-
noon. Among the orange and gold of maturing grass stalks stood a solitary tree. It bore no fruit and
shed no leaves, for the tree hadnt been alive for many decades. Yet there it stood as a skeleton, or a
shell of its former self, hunched over to the side like a decrypt old man. Te tree was known as the
jagged tree and it served as a makeshif landmark for reaching the boundaries of James hometown.
Afer a few more miles, the cab came to a slow stop outsidea small picket fence house. Everything
was just as it was. From the evening primroses in the fower beds, to the fnely trimmed Kentucky
bluegrass, nothing had changed. James unlatched the front gate and made his way up the cobblestone
path. He reached the large oak front door and knocked. Tere was a brief moment of silence until the
knob of the door slowly turned. Te door creaked open. A fgure emerged into the fading light of
the afernoon. A dark haired man with piercing green eyes glared at him. About time! I wasnt sure
if you were coming, he replied bluntly. It was Carter, James older brother. Tey werent originally
on the best of the terms. Ever since their parents died in a horrifc car accident, Carter had to take
on the begrudging role as head of the house and manage the familys grocery store. Whatever dreams
he had were washed away by his new found responsibilities. He had envied James who had run of
to college and never looked back. Despite this rocky relationship, Carter made sure James was well
taken care of. While he never openly admitted it, Carter was proud of James for his achievements
and having the chance to live the life he couldnt. Time away had helped smooth things out between
the two.
Sorry man! My fight had some delays, replied James as he lugged his two heavy bags inside the
house. Carters face broke into a wry smile, dont worry your room is still here. I almost thought
about turning it into a gym
You wouldnt! fred back James.
Well I was seriously thinking about it. You were gone for so long. I wasnt entirely sure you would be
coming back, replied Carter.
James frowned, Im here now!
Of course man Im only joshing with you, joked Carter.
James was already up the fight of stairs. He opened to the door to his room and fell face frst into his
bed. It had been such a long day for James. Waking up at 4AM to catch a shuttle to the airport and
trudging through the snow had taken its toll. He needed to rest, recuperate and recover. He could
worry about his next plan of attack tomorrow.
Te sun crept into James room as he stirred from his slumber. He spent the next few days readjust-
ing to his hometown. He really hadnt told anyone except Carter that he was back in town and he had
done little to keep in touch with his friends over the years. In truth he was only here to take a pause
39
40
and fgure out the next step in his life path. He had already completed his college degree but the job
market was still as poor as it had been since James began college. Perhaps more studying and another
degree could help lest James want to get a job that he could have already gotten with a high school
diploma. Or perhaps he could try his hand in the military. Even that would be more interesting and
adventurous than staying at home. Carter had lef for work a few hours ago and James had the whole
house to himself. It was peaceful break from the bustling city life of Chicago.
Afer spending a week going through his room and getting his old things in order, James
decided it was time to fnally step out and explore the city again. He wanted to see how much had
changed and how much was still the same. James pulled his old bike from the garage and made his
way east. It was a stunning autumn day. Te sun was glistening in a sky absent of clouds. Te slight
breeze from biking kept the temperature at a comfortable 72 degrees. Afer traversing through
roughly 2 miles of scenic bike paths, James reached his destination. It was a wide open park, beau-
tifully situated around a quaint residential neighborhood. Te main feld was accompanied with a
junior league baseball team that seemed to be just starting their weekly practice. James turned his
interest to a small shaded brick path. James turned the corner, approaching the real reason why he
had come to the park. In front of him lay a huge pit of cedar wood chips and a few fattened boxes.
Just past the pit was the main attraction, a towering slope of concrete. It was the famous big kids
slides. James had spent countless times here with friends growing up. Tis spot held some of his most
cherished moments. It was time to give that slide another go for old times sake. James grabbed the
largest piece of cardboard he could fnd and walked over to the lef side of the slide. An old makeshif
set of stairs was partially obscured by the trees. He climbed up the rickety wooden steps and made
his way to the top of the slide. Te view was exquisite. James could see over the tree tops and past the
park. He took a deep breath of the fresh air, closed his eyes and meditated for a moment. He slowly
opened them and placed the cardboard on the ground beneath his feet. He then lowered himself
to sit on it and placed his hands on the metal bar just above him. With one fuid motion he pushed
himself of the bar as he slid down the slide at an accelerating pace. It was truly exhilarating feeling.
Just as James was beginning to rocket down at even faster pace he came to the edge of the concrete
where the wood chips broke his fall. Te aroma of cedar fooded his nostrils, just like it had always
had in the past. James got up and shook of the last remaining chips from his clothes and hair. He
felt a low rumble in his stomach. James had skipped breakfast this morning and was now paying the
price. But just then a wonderful idea popped into his head. His favorite breakfast dinner was close by
and it would be the perfect addition to James nostalgic escapade. He jumped back onto his bike and
headed south. He only had 15 minutes before they closed for breakfast, but thankfully he knew the
perfect shortcut. Rather than deal with the hassle of cars and trafc lights, James turned of the main
road and headed through a side trail which opened up into a bike trail. James cut through a few acres
of agriculture and residential neighborhoods before fnally reaching his destination.A small worn
down diner lay in front of him. It didnt look like much but the place had the best pancakes in town.
James raced up to the door and entered the diner. He had made in time to get the breakfast
specials. A heavy set waitress in her late 40s greeted James. He simply raised one fnger towards him-
self to imply he was dining solo. Te waitress then led him to a small booth and handed him a well-
used menu. Someone will be with you shortly to take your order, said the waitress as she returned
to her post at the front of the diner. James leafed through the menu and was pleased to see that all
his favorite dishes were still there and better yet the prices were still the same. Just then he heard
footsteps approach his booth and male voice followed, Hi there! Is there anything I can get you?
Without even looking up from his menu James replied, yes! Can I get your special #7 with a side of
bacon and a glass of OJ?
Tere was a long pause; James wondered if the server had even listened to his order. He looked
up and saw his server for the frst time. He had dark brown hair, sapphire blue eyes and appeared to
be no older than James. Tere was wave of shock on his face as he shyly replied, I. I know you
from somewhere . James is that you?
James looked at him for another moment and then it hit he looked just like one his old high school
friends, Matt. Tey had been close friends from years of soccer practice. James had no idea that Matt
was still here, most of friends had lef the town years back.
Matt! Hey buddy! Its been ages, how have you been man? replied James.

Hey its been good, I went to community college nearby and now I work part time here for the time
being. How was Chicago? said Matt.

James smiled, oh you know cold as always, it nice being back to place where it never snows

Well man we need to catch up sometime, I know its kind of short notice but are you doing anything
tonight, I get of work around 5 today? said Matt.

Actually man Im free, replied James.

Awesome Im so glad your back! Well I have to get back to work, said Matt as he walked over to the
kitchen.

James was partially in shock seeing his old best friend afer so long. He felt a sting regret inside for
not doing more to keep in touch and hoped he could mend things later tonight. Still, father time had
done no harm to Matt - he still looked great. James devoured his meal; it was the perfect way to rem-
edy his impatient stomach. Te food was still good and cheap too. James paid his bill and Matt said
his goodbyes, Ill pick you up later tonight, I know a great place to chill he said.

James biked back home, and all he could think about was Matt. He reminisced on all the adventures
they had. He wondered how much he had changed over the years. Just as the sun began to set James
heard a knock on the front door. He opened it and there was Matt. He was no longer in his diner
clothes and switched to casual red plaid shirt and navy blue jeans. Hey man you ready? said Matt
with a big smile on his face.

James nodded and hopped into the passenger seat of Matts car. Youre going to love this place! said
Matt.
Where are we going? asked James quizzically.
Youll see, just wait, responded Matt.

Afer about 10 minutes of driving or so, Matt pulled in to what appeared to be old antique store.
James didnt look pleased as he said, seriously youre taking me to an antique store? Matt had smirk
on his face, come along James youll understand in a moment.
41 42

Te both got out of the car and entered the store. Inside they both walked through a few isles of used
tea sets, VHS tapes, and books. James began to wonder why on earth had Matt brought him here.
Tey turned a corner and reached a set of stairs leading down to the basement. It was poorly lit but
Matt beckoned him to follow him down. As they walked down the stairs James heard the sound of
mufed music in the walls. Once they reach the bottom of the stairs they were greeted by tall muscu-
lar man who asked for their IDs. Tey complied and then the bouncer opened the door behind and
led James and Matt in. It was then James could see Matts surprise. Tey were in a classy speakeasy
hidden underneath an Antique store of all places! James eyes lit up as he heard his favorite adult
alternative music playing.

See I told youd like my surprise said Matt.

Tey approached the bar each ordered an India Pale Ale and sat down in one of the booths.

So tell me James what you have been up to all these years said Matt

Well to be honest Chicago took a long while to grow on me the weather there was quite unbearable
for my frst winter. I soon learned the dos and donts to deal with the snow and the rain. Still I made
it through and got my degree and Im just fguring out what to do next James paused for moment
and then said look Matt Im really sorry we didnt keep in touch afer I ran of to college, replied
James.

Dont worry about it! Im glad youre here now and we can hang out, said Matt as he sipped his beer.

Matt and James spent a few more hours catching up with a few more IPAs. James was pleased that the
night was going so well. He felt like opening up more to Matt, look Matt theres something I never
told you but I ended up coming out in college

James looked over at Matt to wait for a response. Matt looked rather surprised at frst but then coolly
responded I wouldnt have ever guessed, but thats fne. Youre still the James I know as a friend who
knows how to have a good time and .
Matt trailed of for a moment as he gulped down his drink before saying, this is kind of weird me
telling this ... as youre the frst one Im telling but but Im on the same team too

It was James turn to be surprised.
Wait no way! What about Sarah? Or Elizabeth? You were quite the ladies man back in the old days
said James

Matt shyly glanced down Oh they just never worked out.

James warmly put his arm around Matt Well then I guess well have to fnd you an awesome boy-
friend sometime

Te two stayed at the speakeasy for another round of drinks before deciding to call it a night. Matt
had invited James back to his place which was just block away. Since neither guy was good to drive,
nor did Matt want to have James walk all the way back home, James decided to accept the ofer.

It was past midnight by the time the two of them made it back to Matts apt. Te strong brews were
fnally having an efect on both of them. It got to the point they both had their arms around each
others shoulders to make it up a fight of stairs leading to Matts door. Afer a few minutes of fum-
bling with the keys, Matt opened the door and led James inside. In his hurry to get inside, Matt for-
got to turn on the lights and ended up tripping over one of his house plants. Tankfully James was
quick to catch and break his fall.
You okay man? said James
Tanks I owe you one, replied Matt
James slowly lifed Matt up to his eye level. Despite the lack of light both of their eyes had adjusted
and James could see Matts eyes locked on his. Without hesitation Matt leaned in for a quick kiss of
James lips. James didnt move
Sorry! Matt said
You dont have anything to be sorry for, replied James as he gently ran his hands through Matts
brown hair. I had no idea you liked me like that, James responded with a tender kiss back to Matt.

Look though Im rather exhausted and need to call it night, said James afer the kiss

Matt nodded and pointed to his room, if you like you can have my bed and I can sleep on the
couch
James shook his head, I dont want to kick you out of your bed.
Tey ended up settling to just share the bed. Matt cuddled up next James as they both passed into the
dream world of Morpheus.
James stirred from his sleep; he felt the dull pain of a headache coming on. He really shouldnt have
so much on an empty stomach. Suddenly the memories of the previous night fooded in. Was it all
just a dream he wondered for a moment. Just then he felt the hand stretched over his torso. Turning
his head slightly, he saw Matt had his head nestled tenderly on James side. He looked perfectly at
peace. Matts messy dark brown hair tickled slightly against James torso. Best of all, James not only
felt Matts rhythmic breathing but his heartbeat too. It was one of those moments James wanted to
last forever. Perhaps he could stay here for a while now that he had rekindled a friendship and found
someone that he truly cared about.
43 44
When Memories of Early Mornings

Parisa Jean E.
i am immobile and restless
my thoughts seem to dissipate before they can reach my breasts, they slip from their evening dress to
a silver white night gown, sucking smoke, trying to skip town
i wanna be held down and slapped in the face, by a wind, by a feeling, by hands, enough weight that
my shoulders are pinned to a wall
and since last night my mind was so deterred and i felt like i was at a loss for words, i googled the
word words and learned two:
aberrant and abyssopelagic
the aberrant path is where i am, i said to myself in order to retain the meaning
but it was stinging to think that deviant pathways or flled ash trays are the jingling key to my surviv-
al
my body is not a reliable one for receiving mistreatment
although its sweet that the cashier at the Fast and Sleezy with the rough englishs memory is clear
enough to not check my id anymore when i buy my Marlboro 27s
thats kind of cool.
and it was kinda cool that it rained that day, because when it rains people are likely to have less to say,
as if theyre in some single-camera indie movie thats following a difcult day of the life of one special
man or woman, Broken Social Scene sofly singing as you walk without an umbrella as youre singing
in your head hell to it; ive got nothing to lose
except its been over a year since you told your mother the truth
and half of one since youve known what your brother is up to; because you dont speak anymore
and pain can feel abyssopelagic when nights turn into static as you fip through memories of magic
that are suddenly made of plastic.
its not a sin to wish for permanence,
like lips that were once sick of passiveness,
i, too, love a war between two intangible sides
Poem

Randy Keller
Im waiting for nothing.
Spending all my time,
On my back,
Staring at the ceiling.
If you do this.
Youll be leaving it all behind.
But go ahead, tell me:
What lays beyond this?
Because we always get the same results,
We get the same efects.
All love lost.
Some day,
I will sail away,
To a distant place,
Far away.
Sorry.
Sorry.
Cant go no more.
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