be about it [the surprise issue]

7/30/2019 BE ABOUT IT [the SURPRISE issue]

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SURPRISE!

BEABOUT

ITa lit / art zine. Edited by Alexandra Naughton.

Fifth issue, baby. Printed November, 2012.

To submit your work, head over to thetsaritsasez.com

or email: zinebeaboutit@ gmail.com

Next issues theme: PULL


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[I DON'T WANT AN APPLE IN MY THROAT]

*I know my car is a piece of the biosphere

I know sitting on a river bank in a storm of gnats

I know living is like a pasture cow

sticking its head out of the fence to lick at a dilapidatedflower

I know how hard it is to define evil

I know someone is dying right now

I know I'm already older than I was

I know what it's like to search the details of the moon

in a telescope

I know the medium is the method

I know it is what one does with the machine

I know that an airplane is a time machine

I know that it is raining in my head

I know my brain is in a traffic jam

I know cold water at night

I know two bodies together in cold water

I know getting killed driving thru a two way stop

mistaken for a four way


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I know my life happened after I died

I know I can use my legs to take me anywhere

it just might take a while

I know the fellowship of my handmedown clothes

I know the performance of my organism

I know the hairs on my arms are like commas

I know that money actually grows on trees

I know how it feels to shake dice at my solitude

I know the (un)subtleties of matter

I know death will commit suicide

walking down an icy road

huddled around the fire in its blood

[WHAT IF MY CAT & I SHARE SO MUCH DNA SHE

BECOMES PARTIALLY HUMAN & I BECOMEPARTIALLY CAT]

& I start to think in meows

to build theories

around the sound 'meow'

as if it were a holy noisethat reverberatesin the profound center of a cave


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what if my partially human catthinks in the english language

abt her ideal lover

or abt how we all die eventually

what if her cat instinctaccompanied by the english language

allows her to comprehend mysteriesthat elude human rationality

what if I can make my cat manipulate her voiceto annunciate common english words

& can teach her to respond coherentlyto questions abt the weather

does it matter that I can call my cat & she walks overdoes it matter that she respondsprimarily to energy& the pitch of my voice

does it matter that I don't knowwhat intelligence means when contrastinga cat to a human

[AFTER BILL KNOTT]

if you are still dead when you read this,open your eyes.I am on the tips of your eyeballs, growing bright.

- Matthew Sherling


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- Photo by Neal ofKiwis Can Fly

HIJINKS

Theres her cigarette, still burning. She spits out onto thetrain tracks. Samantha and Jonas sit in silence a bit longer.

They sit on a little platform that extends out from the brokensidewalk underneath the bridge. Just off towards theriverbank across on the other side of the tracks there is anold, abandoned shed, their clubhouse. Beneath the bridge,right by the tracks, is their favorite place to smoke and shootthe breeze. They could always steal off into the clubhousewhen it got especially chilly. There, the two would disappear

beneath the bridge and hide in the clubhouse for hours onend. It was a wonder that their families never went out andsearched for them, even when it was well past dark.

It had been weeks since the last time they were able tosneak down to the tracks, especially after both of them


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incurred visits to the principals office and then their recentstreaks of detention on Saturday mornings. Jonas andSamantha sigh, and soak in the silence. They often sattogether like this, absorbing the night.

The lights of a train off in the distance streak acrossSamanthas face. She removes her feet from the tracks andscoots her bottom closer to the wall of the bridge. The trainapproaches, screeching against the rails.

Do you have another smoke? Samantha asks Jonas.

Dont you have any?If I did, why would I ask?Oh, right. Jonas reaches around to his back pocket, andtakes out his last cigarette. He bummed them from Charlie,the notorious bully at school. Charlie continues to bully andbeats kids up, simply because they wouldnt move him on tohigh school. He is the most enormous 8th grader.

The only way Jonas was able to secure the smokes waswhile his face was smushed against the side of a toilet bowl.Agree or your face is going to get it! Charlie said and hepushed his claws into the back of Jonas neck. Finally, Jonasagreed to a prank against Ms. Finn, the 6th grade scienceteacher, the youngest teacher and the loveliest in the school.Charlie let go of Jonas neck and threw the pack of smokesat him, laughed and left the boys bathroom.

Poor Ms. Finn. She is, indeed, very beautiful, but she is alsothe one all the older kids harangue. Her neophyteness isapparent, and all the kids realized her uncertainty when shestood in front of the classroom for the first time.

It was the day of the prank, and the kids all sit in avidanticipation. There is a plastic bowl with a goldfish sitting ontop of the door to the 6th grade science room. Everyone ispresent, and all of them sit and wait patiently for Ms. Finn toarrive. Hey, thats my goldfish! Clara cries out, the smallestone in the class. Shhh! Were just borrowing it! Jonas


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whispers, he hides behind Claras desk, and starts giggling.

The moment arrives, and Ms. Finn opens the door, andwalks in.

SPLASH!!!!!!!!!!!

OH MY WORD! WHAT? WHATS THIS?! CLARA! ISTHIS YOUR GOLDFISH!?

The class bursts into a roar of laughter. Jonas beams.

Well, isnt this just perfect. And I was just about to introduceyou all to your substitute teacher. I have to leave for thedoctor today. Wait, I cant believe this! Clara! Come overhere and get your goldfish!

Clara starts to cry, and she slowly gets up from her desk,

rubbing the tears away from her eyes.

It wasmy goldfish.Okay, here is your substitute.A man in black appears suddenly in front of the class.Well, hello children.

- Kimberly Kim

SURPRISE! YOU HAVE MORE SIBLINGS!

I dare say Im usually pretty content. I have my routines andmy schedules and everything usually goes according to plan.Im not a fan of change, and definitely not a fan of surprises.

Suddenly, after years and years, my father wanted not onlycontact with me, but to introduce me to his children.Surprise! Youve won a shiny new set of siblings! Completewith your new and improved father!

I was sitting in my living room when the subject came up,


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and it was surreal. My brain had trouble processing the idea.I already have siblings, I told myself. Do I really needmore? I wondered how this would affect me, how it wouldaffect them, and how it would affect my family, since I

consider myself to be a complete extension of them. Imnothing if not an aunt, a sibling, or my mothers daughter.My two sisters came to my apartment to join me for thismeeting; this introduction of siblings. My father and hisdaughters showed up a good fourteen minutes later than Ihad scheduled. Isnt it strange; the things you notice whenyoure weary? Watching the clock was painful. Was I waiting

for them to arrive, or waiting for it to be over? I couldnt tell atthe time.

They stepped into my apartment and sat on my couchwithout taking their coats off. My apartment was warm and Iwondered if they felt it. I offered them something to drink, butthey said no. I couldnt help but notice how tiny they are.

Theyre only pre-teens, after all, but they seem much smallerto me. Maybe I just feel much bigger. Or older. Having overa decade in age difference can do that to you. Being in aroom with complete strangers who share half your DNA cando that to you too, I guess.

The conversation carried on, despite how quiet they are. Itwas mostly my father and I speaking. He started tellingchildhood stories; stories about how proud he was that I wasa reader by age three and how my sister was like a littlemonkey and how he used to go on adventures with us. I keptlooking over at his daughters. I thought about how awkwardit must be for his girls to be hearing that. The younger onewould sneak glances at me; I could feel her questionssimmering but when I looked over at her she would smile

and look away. I looked over at my sisters and it seemed likethey were (as usual) protecting each other behind their ownlittle force field, something theyve had since they werebabies. I wished I was in their little bubble.

After an hour or so, they left (with a copy of Little Women


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from me because big sisters do that kind of thing; give theirfavorite books away to siblings in need of good literature).My sisters went home too, leaving me feeling grateful forhaving them in my life.

I wasnt surprised by my fathers daughters. They wereexactly what I expected: nice kids who look like my father. Iwasnt surprised by my sisters. They were exactly who theyalways are. I wasnt even surprised by my father. I wassurprised by myself. I didnt feel anger towards those littlegirls. I didnt even feel that much anger towards my father. At

the end of it all, there was just sorrow. Sorrow for those littlegirls who just found out they have adult siblings; sorrow forthe man who made them while relinquishing his love for thekids he already had; and sorrow for broken familieseverywhere who end up having surprises like this one.

- Chio Smith

- Photo by J erry Maldonaldo


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AN EXCERPT FROM:THEY SAYI.When dreaming, traveling the edge of a nothing earth theysay. We bring baskets and collect figs for our journey.

Splicing open the bountiful seeds splicing open. Conception.An estranged grasp. Register vibrates. Legislators of thepresent take hold. This, of our dreams. All of the seeds,scattering when they pass. Returning, nascent. We burrowdeep under the weight of the ocean carried. But somethinggrows. A tree or black hole of conception and round.Something of swerve resounding at the base of the spine.

Happening like frames the drawing sequential fast theelegant speed undetected. Nausea because of this tracesamalgamation melting, burned in the eyes. Shuffle theframes.III.All of this, I wear of it, become the clothes. We strip thebinding clothes to cover to clothe to cover and this saves us

from the piling, the weight limiting movement. How to not bein awe. The awful beat of our hearts. The beasts we see inglass. This terror in recognition and repetition as a form ofexorcism. Like getting caught in the mirror when high, we tryto sort the frames. Making naked for examination illuminatesthe delicate curve of each. Like children, the horror of terrorin each wonder. Each separate with its similar organs,appendages, each gesture more nuanced that the last,melting in to the next is happening. Hypotheses cast theirnets and stings to tie the hands to tie the hoodwinkedwoman is drawn as the center card in this reading.IV.This is the way that it goes until it circles back into itself andthe living knows its image. It seeks gestures to find theoriginal. Uploaded on facebook, instagram, sent through

gmail, it is somehow more pixilated and always altered. Itstakes itself in the environment and suddenly moss growingout of side walk cracks and bald faced moon uncover bloodred strings pull it three dimensional.

- Ivy J ohnson


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- Photo collage by Phil Sidebottom

FAMILY MAN

Alvin didnt sleep the night he received the orders. He knewit was a possibility, but hed never truly considered that itcould happen to him. In training, they had warned him about

this sort of thing. They told him not to get attached, not tomake connections with others. They were right of course,and it was all because of situations like this. Alvin had knownall of this, but hed gotten married anyway.

Greta was too beautiful a woman to avoid. Hed resistedinteracting with her at first, but it was a weak effort at best.

She made him feel ways that hed never felt about anyonebefore. Eventually they were spending more and more timetogether. Of course,Alvins work took priority over social life.Greta was uncommonly understanding of the arrangement,never asking questions, and never getting angry at him forspending long periods away from her. Each time they met


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again, their passion was renewed again. After some monthslike this, Greta suggested that they marry and start a lifetogether. Alvin had considered this. He knew the risksinvolved, but his love for her made him agree, and soon they

had their own home together. They had spoken aboutchildren, but Alvin knew that this was an impossibility. Therewere no physical issues, of course, but he knew that hecould never bring a child into the world who might some daydiscover, or even become involved, with his secretprofession. Furthermore, anything his employers could do toGreta was not nearly as terrible as what they could do to a

child. So, instead of telling her the truth, Alvin had simplysaid he wasnt ready to have children yet. She wassomewhat disappointed, but understanding. It pained himslightly that he couldnt tell her what he really did for a living,but hed grown accustomed to lying.

Tonight was their tenth anniversary. It was difficult to believe

that theyd been together this long, but the facts remained.There were times Alvin wondered what his employers knewabout his life with Greta, but he didnt like to dwell on it.Perhaps his orders were pure coincidence, a simple case ofGreta being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way,Alvin was not one to question orders, as difficult as theymight be to carry out. He had seen the consequences forfailure, and knew that his life depended on his actions thatnight.

He tried to flush these thoughts from his mind as heprepared dinner for the evening. Greta was still at work, andhad no idea that Alvin had planned this for her. It was a dishtheyd first eaten on their honeymoon in Paris. With theexception of one violent task Alvin had to carry out in secret

one night, they both remembered their time in Paris fondly.

He chopped the vegetables, slowly, methodically, as thegears of his mind slowly turned. Before he realized it, he wasconsidering the best method to kill his wife. A garrotte wouldsuffice, but that method would surely show signs of a


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struggle, and could prolong death, which was unacceptable.Better to make it look like an accident, if possible. Poisonwould have been the favourable option, but he didnt havethe equipment on hand, and it had to be done tonight.

Suffocation was an option, but Alvin found the methoddistasteful. Someone who he loved deserved a better deaththan that. Better to do it quickly, and quietly, as he wastrained to do. A gunshot to the head would be best. Thesilencer would ensure that the neighbours heard nothing,and it would be quick and painless.

The ring of his phone jarred Alvin out of his thoughts. Heanswered quickly, expecting to hear his wife calling fromwork. Instead, the voice was someone different. They wereofficial sounding, but unfamiliar.

Is it done? The voice asked.

Not yet, but soon.

See that its done by tomorrow. You know theconsequences.

The line went dead as Alvins hand hung by his side limply.He was prepared to do what he had to, but the reality of thesituation gave him pause. Perhaps theres some other way,he thought. Something I havent thought of. He thought andthought, but there was only the cold, unchangeable truth thathe would have to commit a murder that night, and it secretlyterrified him. Alvin only began to move once more when herealized the pot hed put on the stove was boiling over.

After preparing dinner, which settled his mind somewhat,Greta finally arrived home. Her eyes lit up when she enteredthe dining room to see what Alvin had prepared.

Oh, Alvin! She said, gasping in that special way that Alvinhad known since they were dating. Its all so wonderful. Did


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you make all of this yourself?

I did. Happy anniversary, darling.

She walked across the room to hug him tightly. In thatmoment, Alvin felt a slight emptiness in his soul at thethought of what he would soon have to do. Better to forget itfor the time being and enjoy the night, he thought.

They ate quietly, in the sort of comfortable silence that onlycouples seem to share. Greta found the food to be delicious

and cooked perfectly, almost as well as it had been in Paris,shed said. Between sips of wine, they looked at each other,knowing that words were inadequate to describe how theyfelt about each other.

After a meticulously prepared dessert, they skipped doingthe dishes, and went upstairs to the bedroom. Both of them

were excited, and they fairly raced each other there. Theirclothing was half off before they were in the room. Gretapulled Alvin close and kissed him deeply as they slowlydrifted onto their bed. In those few moments, Alvincompletely forgot about his task, and was glad to do so.

After they were finished, Alvin remembered the unfortunateduty he had yet to perform. He rose from the tangled sheets,causing the half-asleep Greta to stir. He muttered to hersome excuse about getting a glass of water, and waited forher to lay back down before he left the room. Quickly, hewent into the guest bedroom and retrieved his pistol andsilencer from the secret compartment underneath thefloorboards.Alvins nerves began to act up, making hishands shake as he attached the silencer. He sat for a

moment and talked to himself under his breath to calmhimself.

Its alright, Alvin. Just one quick shot, and youre finished.You dont even have to look at her if you dont want to. Justpress it against her head and pull the trigger. Just like target


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practice. You dont have to worry about cleanup, its alreadytaken care of. So you just go in there, do the job, and get out.Okay. He stood up, hands no longer shaking, ready tofollow his orders.

Greta had shifted position since hed been out of the room,but she seemed to still be asleep, which Alvin was thankfulfor. He slid back into bed as quietly as he could, and broughtthe pistol up to his wifes head. Suddenly, Alvin felt a hotpain between his ribs, which caused all of his nerves to lockup, preventing him from pulling the trigger. He looked down

to see a knife covered in his blood. He was sure hed beenstabbed in the heart, and he knew that he had only momentsof life remaining. He looked into the face of the woman hedmarried, and he barely recognized it. This new woman had acold, determined face, and Alvin was very afraid of it. Gretapulled him close as he felt the very life draining from him.She whispered into his ear, and he realized these were the

last words he would ever hear.

Im sorry, Alvin. Ive known for five years

- David Shortt

-Photo by Rachelle Nones


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Waiting Room, illustration byAdele C. Geraghty

Spring sun traces skygroups of brothers find others

repeating patterns.

Understand brothersfishing in flooded riversform dangerous bonds.


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Running down hot roadsLocust songs reverberatescreaming "ah la la."

Placing worms on hooksfish circle inside white bucketsdiscovering life.

Rap session fire litYellow light fights back black nightPlease dont let it end.

Interrupted dreams:Alcohol, women, war, drugs.Mom and Dad arent here.

Sometimes brothers driftyellow autumn leaf swirling

amidst river currents.

Ending winter coldmemories warming swirlinglife finding brothers.

- Chris Norkun

STEAKS

Im sitting here in my office at home on a rainy day, trying todecide whether to take a teaching position for four coursesat University X or three there and one at St. Marys.

A guy just came to the door with a yellow note in his hand.He was wearing a tank top and gym shorts, headband andall, and said some garbled stuff. He seemed disappointedwhen I answered the door, though he had seen me alreadythrough the porch window. Was it the glasses? The hairpulled back? The way I cautiously opened the door to look


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out at him?

Either way, what he said was, yall like steaks? Cause wegot some mbsuihshiosg and then I couldnt understand him.

Im a vegetarian I said.

Alright he said and he wandered back across the street.

Before this, there had been a truck across the street with arefrigerator in the back. And now there isnt.

Was it full of steaks?

Im not sure what just happened.

TRANSMISSION

TransmissionI used to feel so confidentI would race in my little carI could go anywhereI walked with a swaggerMy body smiled boldly and was ready to pounceNow my car transmission is shot and I cant drive over 45Im embarrassed and frightened to go anywhereMy head hangs dully with all that it knows nowI make myself look frumpy and old on purposeI let my body get soft and weak and un-pliableI hide becauseI never saw this comingIt is my surprise

- J uniper Martinez aka Pish Posh


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ADORE

adore--olive like trees

and you because its essentialwords ridiculous and retracedin looser pebbles than necessaryletters blurred and feet treadmake it hard to readbut I digress...you wince, get warmed over

Im struggling apparentlyonly thing is to watch and recognize the feelingand were thinking the same thingbut in different waysreally no problemjust contrast contrast contrast.

BURIAL

we covered the television with a blanket, opaqueobscuring its knowing eyequiet, for dull hummingsky turning silently purpleunder blankets, hidinglaughinggetting quieter as it got darkerturning over into mattresses and sleepingbags like a secretfortress under a star of booksI awoke to voicesmy fathers, mocking my mothers grammar

rose, laid blanket over your parted mouthyour parted hairyour eyes dead to me todayteeth make lines inside your skull where the dentist stoleyour characterI dug a grave for you in notebooks, phonebooks


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chain lettersleft you in bed, cold and coveredwalking away, covering my eyes, chanting in my headalready knowing

LIKE JOHN COLTRANE LOVE NAIMA

immaculate conceptionexceptionally cleanscales laid out and weighed

green wax grapes here, red wax grapes thereopen curtain sun stabs indead wooden ducks float on table top, felt bottomI broke his neck, not a word wastedrubbertipped fingers gloss over matte hallwaystar roof blackened soles baked from dayasleep in this derelict place, scarfed, flinching, panged cold

shoes as pillows anything for the takingit wasnt the same without the woods, plastic pool, orangetea towelsrummage sale ready for Halloweenmisplaced hat, black ribbon, red featherI could use it now-- shaking knee seasonand these cockroaches can climb walls, swing on spiderwebs, knowing where we stashed the peanut butterin heel holed socks, dressed like charlie chaplinI imagine myself bandit heroine, pirate princess, queenpinloads of class under pancake sleazelets breakfast now, eat aches away, play house with youprotect me from the filth, one eye open in bedsafe in suburbiamaybe head for the city

but now we have to keep quiet, still freezingburn slow from one tipuntil parched lips cant take and I have to leave

- Alexandra Naughton


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WHATS YOUR FAVORITE PART OF INDEPENDECE

DAY?

1. moses:

the part where the alien crash lands into the same desertthat will smith is stranded in, and he runs up to the ship topunch the alien in the face as soon as the door opens. i likedwhat he said too after he punched him. but i really liked theway he punched him. he punched that alien like it was a man.it showed no fear.2. jared:

my favorite part is where they steal the mothership, and willsmith yells, i have got to get me one of these, just as itstarts to pick up speed. something about the way he saidthat excited me.3. denise:i dont really have one. i didnt really like that movie. it usedto be my ex-girlfriends favorite. (shrugs) i liked men in black.

4. susan:idk, doesnt tommy lee jones die in that movie? if so, that ismy favorite part, just because its really sad. it almost mademe cry and i dont cry over movies.(side note: she thought we were talking about the newestmen in black)5. kristina:(scans with her eyes wide open, left and right) probably thepart where they blow up the white house.

7 WAYS IN WHICH I FELT I WAS AFFECTED BY 6PERSONS CRITIQUES ON MY LEFT EYE AFTER IT WAS

DIAGNOSED AND TREATED FOR NON-SPECIFICCONJUNCTIVITIS

1. michelle (coworker #1)asked me if i knew that they will have to shut down our storeif anyone else picks up my virus. i said no. she said yeah. isaid they didnt tell me that i couldnt work. what am i supposed to do, take time off? she said i need a doctors


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note. i felt terrified and like going home.2. customer #1he asked me what happened. i told him i caught an infection.he said pink eye. i said i dont know. he said, boy, you know

you better watch out. wash your hands thoroughly everytimeyou do too, thats highly contagious. i felt even worse.3. sarah (coworker #2)she was the first person to run a thorough examination onmy eye with a pair of gloves on, when its symptoms reallystarted to take a hold of me last weekend. she kept me fromwanting to go home sick that day so it hurt my feelings a lot

when she said my left eye lid is still swollen. its been aweek and it should be healed up by now. you shouldprobably go back in. i didnt want to go back to the er. thatwould cost more money.4. customer #2he did an impression of the way i looked on memorial day,while wearing an eye patch by covering one eye with one

hand and using the free arm to make spastic gesticulations,which were supposed to be me removing portafilters fromthe hopper, and locking them up with our bars group heads.he said i thought you were excited about football season. heasked me what happened. i didnt want to tell him. i thoughtthis was just mean.5. danika (coworker #3)her opinion of my eye made me feel a lot better about itbecause she normally doesnt like me at all. she said that theonly reason why it is taking so long to heal is because iwaited so long to get it treated. now the swelling has to godown first. you shouldnt have used jakes eyedrops. youcouldve gone blind. i didnt believe that last part.6. customer #3she told me that my eye looks like it hurts. she didnt see

very much of it in its developmental stages but she figuredsomething was wrong by the way i wore an eye patch towork on memorial day. i was going to make a crack aboutpirates but i figured that had already happened. i told hershes right. she told me i didnt make this resistance anyeasier by my choice of shirt. i told her that i thought this was


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exactly what i was doing by wearing a striped navy blue andyellow thermal to work with my eye patch. she said, yeah,well then laughed. i laughed along with her. she told me toget well soon. from a distance, i thanked her, then liked her a

lot more after that interaction.7. michelle (coworker #1)as one of my shift supervisors, i like to think michelle knowsme better than anyone else so her opinion of my left eyeafter i got it treated meant a lot to me, which is why i felt somuch better after she finally came around by the end of myshift to tell me that it actually looked a lot better.

- J esse Prado

- Illustration by Irene Koronas


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REGIMEN REGINA

Pour a fishbowl onto your left cheek. Watch plants grow outofthe wet. Let the bowl drop from your hand, crackinginto

two pieces on the ground, the little red fish flopping in justenough water. Wet yourself from the crashing, let it run downto your ankles.

Let nature rise from the crux of your thighs like a dambreaking. Let vineswrap around our legs until you fall. Geteye to eye with the fish. Feel your hairturn to moss, rivulets

of water buckling the floorboardsunderneath us with lichensand low lying bushes.

When it found the water inside us the curves ofour bodiesbecame trees, the fish a poppy growing in the crook of myelbow. I dont want to talk about it any more.

- J ess Dutschmann

IMM U N P NII

imm u n p nii

ik. mmkkb g n inbnok. nn nanomppppppkppkponh. vy. gg huh g g v v. j bukij uvyv y b.

j bid r ykook no nook. mmppokij o v ji k Jon. onkn. n. bmppl y. g gbjh vy r by.

yyvvtc

- Tom Comitta


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- Photo by J ay

UNTITLED

I truly can't rememberthe last time I was surprisedby anyone

People always do exactly what you expectand the closer you pay attentionthe more predictable they getlike Physicsor Chemistrya hard science

And the more you want this time to be differentthe more you'll be disappointedwhen it's the same

People say I'm a cynic


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Maybe they're rightbut I'm an optimistic one.It may be silly to believein anyone

but I believeknowing the odds are stacked against meand the House always winsI gamble anywayexpecting the next catastrophehoping for a surprise.

- J ake Zierig

HE SAID SHE SAID

she said she did itbreath smiling as she slept

you could see it as her shouldersshortened, conceived dowers

dosing

contraband in tonic crystalSociopaths have all the fun

her mouth doesn't liewhen its full

and her hair liesall the time

and dead eyes

sleep in the open sleepin the alley

and extra sleep jobs in the office for asong


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dead eyesinventing fashion

dead eyes watching packers pack

dead eyes into baggagepostage paid

he said she did it too

and its he said she said

and what difference does it make

- Robert Brown

SURPRISE! YOURE DEAD.

She only had two hours until the party was supposed to start,and was starting to realize this could be the shittiest surpriseparty shes ever thrown. Dan would be home in two hoursand they barely had a single thing finished in the kitchen,only seven out of ten people (including her) decided to show,half the decorations needed to go up, the punch wasntready, and they hadnt even finished making the playlist.

A shrill voice shouted from the kitchen, Denise, get in here!

She bolted into the kitchen to find Lisa, Dans sister, bangingher phone against her head in an exaggerated manner.Whats wrong now? asked Denise, but she really didntwant to know. Shed rather nothing else go wrong in theshort time until Dan arrives. Lisa stopped banging the phone

against her skull, looked Denise straight in the eye, andspoke in a calm yet bitter manner. Your beloved boyfriend,my beloved brother, who has never been on time to a thingin his entire friggin life, just called to say hell be gettinghome an hour early. Denise threw her hands in the air.Fuck it! Theres no way this is happening. Everyone, listen


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up! Just skip the rest of the decorations, get the food on thetable, and get ready to hide.

Everyone started scrambling as Denise shouted out last

minute setup duties.

Melissa, put the leftover streamers in the basement. Rob,get the caramel apples on the table. Samantha, Dave, getthe She looked around intently for the slackers.HeyBecca, where are Sammie and Dave? Becca started tochuckle and pointed upstairs as she shrugged her

shoulders. Are you serious?Cant they keep their pants onfor one damn hour while we get this party ready? God theysuck! Becca laughed and replied well, one of them does.Seeing the lack of amusement on Denises face, Beccadecided to find something to do and get out of her way.

Denise made her way upstairs to get Samantha and Dave

back on track. She was happily surprised to not hear anycreaking sounds coming from the bedrooms. So youre intheCLOSET! Nopenot here either. Where the hell werethey? Then she heard the water running. She knocked onthe bathroom door and told them to finish up quick and gettheir asses in gear. She decided waiting for them was just awaste of time, and yelled for them to hurry up as she wentback down. She heard a thump as she made her waydownstairs. When she hit the last stair, she realized no onewas in the living room.

Guys? What was that sound? Are you hiding already? Canwe get the rest of the food out first? Great Denise walkedinto the kitchen and saw Rob and Becca leaning against thecounter, in front of the caramel apples. Hey, why didnt yourespond? Guys? Just as she walked over to them, theyslumped to the ground, all four eyes impaled with the sticksfrom the caramel apples. Denise wanted to scream, butcouldnt make a sound. Then she realized she shouldntmake a sound. What if the killer is still here? She got downlow and reached for her cell. Shit! It was upstairs! She


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grabbed the landline, but the phone was dead. Rob andBeccas phones werent in their pockets either. She neededto get out fast. She made a beeline for the front door, but itwas jammed, something was in front of it.

She heard a scream, it sounded like Melissa. She knew itdbe stupid to even try, but her body moved by itself. Shegrabbed a kitchen knife off the chopping block as she madeher way towards the basement, from where it sounded likethe scream came. She thought to herself that she reallywished she had a backdoor in this stupid house. When she

got to the bottom of the stairs, the lights went out. Hello? Ihave a knife, so dont try anything! Melissa? Melissa? Areyou down here? It smelled like piss down here, and shewondered if she had wet her pants. A terrible thoughtcrossed her mind. The fuse box was down here. She turnedto run upstairs but was pushed back and slipped insomething wet, dropping the knife in her fall. She felt around

the wet floor for the knife, only to feel Melissas curly hair.She covered her mouth to avoid letting the scream out. Shefelt around the shelves and found an emergency kit that sheand Dan had bought for a hurricane last year. She opened itup and grabbed a glowstick, bent it, and looked down inhorror at Melissas body. She had been strangled withstreamers, and it looked like she peed herself. Denise washorrified at how scared Melissa must have been. Why wasthis happening?

Oh god, she thought, Dan will be here soon! She needed toget out, to warn him not to come home, and to get help. Shewouldnt be able to break through the small windows on thefirst floor, but maybe she could make the jump out of thesecond floor windows. She found the knife and made her

way to the fuse box. She tried flipping the switches but itwasnt working. She went to the stairs, slowly climbing in thedim light of the glowstick, knife at the ready. Ready for what,to kill a murderer, what the hell was she doing? She pushedthe fear out of her mind. She needed to warn Dan; shewouldnt let him die, especially not on his birthday.


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As she moved to the living room she had a glimmer of hope;she hadnt found Sammie and Daves bodies. Maybe theywere still alive; they were in the bathroom, so maybe they

hid when the killing started. Shed give anything to havethose slackers at her side right now. She heard a sound fromone of the rooms at the top of the stairs. She thought that itcould have been from the bathroom, and it was worth therisk. She decided that slow and steady made her toopredictable, and half way up the stairs she started running.She dashed into the bathroom, slammed the door shut,

locked it, and spun around with the knife. There they were.Bent over the bathtub, heads submerged in dark liquid. Theyhad been drowned in punch. She wanted to just give up, butthat meant shed definitely end up dead. She listened at thedoor, quietly unlocked it, then swung it open and stabbed inthe air just in case. She ran into the front facing bedroom,locked the door, and turned to the window.

Standing in front of her was a girl with her hood pulled down.

Denise couldnt figure out if she was more angry orscared. Why!? Why did you do this? She swung at her withthe knife but the girl stepped back and caught her hand,slamming it on the dresser. She dropped the knife, but letout a vicious kick right between the legs. The attacker yelped,grabbed Denise, and threw her on the ground. She reachedfor the knife but felt a savage boot to the face. The worldwent a little fuzzy, and when she came to, the woman wasstraddling her. Denise grabbed for the glowstick as the girlpulled back her hood. Lisa? What the fuck? Why? Lisasmiled and grabbed the knife, Why not? Denise grabbedthe hand holding the knife and shoved the glowstick right up

Lisas nose. Lisa dropped the knife in the struggle as theyrolled on the floor, punching, and kicking, and screaming.Lisa grabbed her by the throat and started choking her.

Denise twisted out of the choke, grabbed Lisa behind thehead, and delivered a violent headbutt, shoving the glowstick


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all the way up Lisas nose. Lisa slumped forward, andDenise pushed her body away. She heard the doorbell, andslowly limped down to the front door. She opened the door tofind Dan, who was shocked to see her standing there

covered in bruises and blood and smelling like piss.

She looked up to meet his gaze, and with as much sarcasticenthusiasm as she could muster, she shouted:SURPRISE!

- Paul Martens

OCTOBER SURPRISES AND NON-SURPRISES

I worked to help President Obama get reelected. I had givenmoney in small doses off and on since the beginning of 2012,but reserved my sweat equity until "after Labor Day", which

is exactly what I told every eager Obama For America (OFA)phone volunteer who called me between January andAugust of this year.

I joined a group in my urban South Philadelphianeighborhood of Bella Vista, a small cadre of perhaps adozen people, mostly retired women, who met in a local artycoffee shop to do phone work each Wednesday eveningthrough the election, and who also worked out of city parksand private homes for door to door canvass meet-ups andreporting on weekends.

Most of these people were great, yet they were almost 100%a little on the dull side, to be truthful. It was all-Obama, allthe time, with very little space in their lives for any

meaningful and useful fun. As a case in point, I hadsuggested a Halloween Phone Bank where we would invitethe media, and volunteers could dress up as candidates,donkeys, elephants, etc. Stony silence.

Pity, as I had made a Voter Identification card outfit


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especially for the (as it turned out) non-occasion. OnHalloween itself, undeterred, I brought the costume along tothe phone bank, along with a bag of pretzels and candy, andasked volunteers if anybody would be willing to hit a few

popular "young-crowd" bars on South Street or PassyunkAvenue to pass out election literature -- after our phone shift-- and have bar patrons and other people pose "inside thecard." This would remind young voters that their franchisewas recently put at risk by conniving GOP operatives, notonly in Pennsylvania, but across the country. It would alsoremind them to get involved in our great struggle.

As a special treat, on the flip side of the 20x30 inch card, Imade a Registered Alien ID card, which was humorous yetinformative. I brought along a space alien mask as well. Iwould surprise people by flipping it over to reveal thealternate messaging, which was still in a political vein.

I have had good success organizing media events on thegrassroots level. I previously created an Inaugural Nightcelebratory dinner in January 2009, which was wildlysuccessful and got local Philadelphia TV coverage. Prior tothat I organized media attendance to cover a National NightOut event for the local town watch back in the 90s. That gotTWO television news crews out and filming that one; a minorcoup!

Before the unremarked-upon suggestion of the Halloweennon-Event, I had hosted another non-event, a Final DebateWatch Party at my home. Eventually, me, myself and Iwatched a strong, combative, dominant Barack Obamathrash Mitt Romney with rejoinders and with zingers abouthorses, bayonets and aircraft carriers. The fact that free beer

and food would not be a magnet to Democrats was a realOctober Surprise.

Cricket-cricket-cricket was the response to my verbalinvitations to fellow volunteers.


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Maybe it's me. So, I changed my deodorant, but still did notreceive much enthusiasm from these zealous stiffs.

Our un-named-here OFA/Pa. leader was an earnest,

bespectacled, quietly fanatical yet attractive young womanfrom Connecticut who had spent her childhood growing up inNorth London. She had apparently embraced or adapted thetraditional British qualities of coldness and total insinceritywhile living in that coldly insincere country (or perhaps theywere family traits. It's hard to tell). Having lived in Englandfor eight years, I know the type.

She was enthusiastic in her support for Obama yetmonotone in her dead-eyed delivery: "Jim-you-are-doing-a-wonderful-job-you-really-have-a-way-with-people-can-you-volunteer-for-three-shifts-every-night-from-now-until-after-the-election?" was a typical sort of greeting.

The week before the election, Hurricane Sandy hit theNortheast (Surprise!) and knocked out power and floodedtowns and cities from Wildwood, New Jersey to New YorkCity. Along its way, it also attacked my sister in law andbrothers shore home in Brigantine, New Jersey. It haddrenched my wifes sisters home in Wildwood, where sheand her family remained and manned the buckets to bailout the house and move furniture and cars to higher places.

I called PJ on Tuesday and told him I would be glad to helpwith the cleanup on the following Sunday. On Friday, thewhole clan was traveling to Penn States main campus tosee PJ and Stellas son, Kevin, perform the lead in a greatproduction of Sweeney Todd, the romping musical aboutthe sociopathic throat-slashing barber of Fleet Street in

Victorian London. We had all purchased tickets inSeptember and made hotel and vacation reservations inorder to attend this, and I had never seen him in a college-level production. [He was great!]

In the meantime, GOP NJ Governor Chris (Big Guy) Christie


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gave President Obama a bear hug and a big ole sloppyFrench kiss (Surprise!) and said Obama was awesome in hisresponse to Sandy (BIG SURPRISE!).

When it was announced that Obama and Christie had takentheir road show to Brigantine of all places (huge surprise) Ithought, Jesus, I hope PJ and Stellas place is still there! Ifthe Prez does a joint press conference on the front lawn of aprivate residence after a weather event while holding handswith a sworn political enemy, the place must be trashed.

Toward the end of my final Wednesday phone bank, the un-named leader entered the caf and asked: "Jim-you-are-doing-a-wonderful-job-you-really-have-a-way-with-people-can-you-volunteer-for-the-entire-weekend- and-Monday-as-well-as-all-day-Tuesday-until-the-polls-close?" I was readyfor her. I explained that PJs need wasgreater than Obamasat that point. After all, Nate Silver gave the O-man a 90.1%

chance of victory in his uncannily accurate 538 column inthe NY Times. Besides, Kevin was starring in a big show,and as a sophomore, it was quite the honor, despite the factthat even as a freshman, he had gotten a lead role in anunseen-by-me show last year.

These two statements were also met with silence. Not evena thats fantastic forKevin ora thats a real shame for PJ.Nothing. Nada.

Not said was: It's all about what you can do for me. If youcannot be useful to me, you're useless, period (no surpriseby this time).

We cleaned up the shore house basement on Sunday. Their

damage, while serious enough, was limited to theirbasement level family room (that was a NICE surprise). Theyhad gotten off lightly. I assume by now you have seen thephotos of New Jerseys storm aftermath.

After the cleanup it was back to The Election and the final


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surprises.

I did work hard for this, but not as hard as I did in 2008(getting too old for endless door knocking and constant stair

climbing). Most people were not answering the doors orphones this time around: out of an average 80 phone callsmade per shift, perhaps 10 people would pick up. Same forthe door to door shifts I worked.

One thing I learned during the door to door and phonecanvassing activities in which I participated was this: 85% to

90% of ALL phone and door respondents Italians, Latinos,Blacks, Irish, Germans, Poles, Czechs, Asians, Jews,Catholics, Muslims, Atheists, Older, Younger, Gay, Straight(whatever) were solidly pro-Obama. No surprise there.

I did a very quick mental math averaging and made myunofficial poll reports to field officers at the end of each shift.

Somewhere between 85% and 90% pro-Obama was theresult at the end of each and every shift.

And because I also volunteered as a Poll Watcher this cycle to ensure voter rights and to help guard against voterintimidation (there were indeed *several instances right herein Philadelphia), I got to witness the opening of the votingmachines and tabulation by election judges once the pollswere closed at 8:00 PM on election night when the linesended. There were no people left in queues in my district. Itran quite smoothly (SURPRISE!), for the most part**.

Voter turnout eventually topped 610 people for the 2nd Ward,22nd Division, and, while not breaking the record -- far andwide outstripped city, state and national turnout in terms of

participation by qualified voters. Citywide, turnout was 62%,down from 64% in 2008. In Bella Vista we were running ataround 75% to 80%. A veteran election volunteer told methat about 100 to 150 names among the 800+ people on herpolling list were probably moved from the neighborhood asthere are lots of apartments here for the young and hip, who


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often skip their kip [look it up].

Happily, the results themselves were anti-climatic and notsurprising.

Right here in my own socially, economically and raciallymixed neighborhood the break was 85% to 15% in PresidentObama's favor: 487 vs 76 for my local ward and divisionalone.

The Naughton polling, rudimentary at it was, was correct all

along. And THAT was a real surprise. I suck at math.

As for the next four years, I think the American people havehad quite enough of no-tax pledges, filibuster, and legislativegridlock.

It's time to deal. No surprise there, either.

* An unknown lawyer showed up in a surprise descentupon the polling station and was photographing black andHispanic-looking voters and asking them "for their names"which he wrote down. He was challenged by Ms X (realname withheld), a U of P and Drexel University law professorand he scooted away but not until threatening to have her"disbarred" after the election. This guy told herhis name was Joe Wilson. Joe Wilson was also the nameof the South Carolina Republican Congressman who(Surprise and shock) shouted out YOU LIE! during anaddress by President Obama on the subject of Health Carein 2009 to a joint session of the U.S. Senate and Congress.

** Anecdotes abound. Some registered Republicans of long

standing showed up and found that, to their surprise,somehow, their names did not appear on the voter rolls,even though they have voted here for twenty years and more.They had to vote by provisional ballot. An election volunteer,a Democratic committeewoman, actually, told me this terriblething and added that everybody needs the chance, no


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matter how they vote, to actually vote. We know we can winthis fair and square. It just needs to be fair and square.

- J im Naughton

- Photo by Elanor Leonne Bennettage

BATHROOM

there is a distinct and powerful feeling of horror

when you walk into the bathroom at a bar and theres nomirroryou think you are there at the baryour friends are there, you're talking about the moviebridesmaidsand your lipstick looks okay and the beer is cold


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and its hot and loud and everyone is talkingabout something and all the guys have beardsand theres a song you love, you always lovea song by blondie, and the sound of drinking,

glasses breaking and people are always laughingso you go to the bathroom where it will be quietand you'll be alone with yourselfbut when there's no mirror it's like you're not there!you're alone but not with yourselfand that's a horror, a drop in your chest, a canyon of fuckno mirror, no mirror, red wall, no face

and aside from the existential horroryou can't fix your lipstickan open window helps

- Amy Berkowitz

Author and Artist Bios

Matthew Sherling lives in San Francisco, where he likes to create things. He runs theinterview blog, Cutty Spot, and the e-magazine, Gesture. Among other places, his work

appears or is upcoming in The Columbia Review, The Believer, Thought Catalog,Fanzine, The Lit Pub, BIRP!, NAP, & Have U Seen My Whale. He released a mini-chapbook called [WHAT] in April 2012.

Neal is a self-proclaimed travel addict, currently working the 9-5 in New Zealand in order

to fund his next fix. Follow his adventures at kiwiscanfly.com

Kimberly Kim is a writer, a blogger, and a lover - a lover of Americano coffees, dreams,and people.

Chio Smith lives in Chicago and writes weekly at happydyingsun.com

Jerry P. Maldonado is originally from New York City. His photographs tell two stories, theseen and unseen, by capturing both the image and shadow of a second image inlandscape, carnival and still life. He currently resides in Ohio.

Ivy Johnson was born on the open prairie where she picked crocuses as a child. Shealso grew up speaking in tongues, which led her to poetry. Boog City published her firstchapbook, Walt Disneys Light Show Extravaganza. She has a chapbook forthcomingfrom Timeless, Infinite Light called As They Fall.
http://happydyingsun.com/?http://happydyingsun.com/?


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Dr. Phil Sidebottom was formerly a lecturer at the University of Sheffield and is now afreelance Archaeologist. His particular interest is historical landscape photography and

photographic collage. He resides in Sheffield, United Kingdom.

David Shortt is an amateur fiction writer from Orangeville, Canada. He is currently

working on a novel and struggling to maintain his sanity.

Rachelle Nones is a Writer/Raconteuse with a serious love of photography.

Adele C. Geraghty, a native New Yorker, is the recipient of the US National Women'sHistory Award for women's poetry and essay. She is a graphic designer, illustrator andauthor of 'Skywriting in the Minor Key: women, words, wings', a poetry collection. Sheis also a member of the multi genre collective 'Arts Soiree' of New York. She now residesin the United Kingdom.

Chris Norkun is a writer based in Virginia. Check out his blog: chrisnorkun.blogspot.com

Juniper Martinez is a writer, a professor, a humorist, and an animal rights advocate. Shetells funny stories as Pish Posh at the-pish-posh.com and lives in beautiful NorthernCalifornia.

Alexandra Naughton is a writer, rapper, and zine editor based in the Bay Area. She is

currently working on her first hip-hop/nerd-core EP and writing a book of poetry. Sheenjoys listening to music from the 90s and recreating scenes from Alfred Hitchcockclassics. Follow her nonsense at thetsaritsasez.com

Jesse Prado lives in Hayward, California. He writes at whatsupwhiteamerica.tumblr.comand edits the poetry and reviews section of thousandshadesofgray.tumblr.com.

Irene Koronas has a fine arts degree from Mass College of Art Boston. She is a multi-media artist working with paint, collage, mono-printing, artists books, poetry and

photography. She is the poetry editor for Wilderness House Literary Review. Her poetryhas appeared in journals, magazines, and online zines. She has seven chap-books, twofull-length books, and her work has been featured in three anthologies.

Jess Dutschmann is a New Jersey based writer/human beehive. In 2011 she wonSundress Publications' "Best of the Net" for a poem about a heart being a clutch of bees.She recently wrote a tiny chapbook to commemorate the hundredth anniversary of thesinking of the Titanic. She is not always so bleak, though, she promises.

Tom Comitta is a writer, composer, and the publisher of calmaplombprombombbalm.com.

Jay is a 20 year old female. Among other things, she make jewelry, takes photos, eatslots and lots of ice cream, appreciates handmade products, reads books, and reviewsmovies. Check out her shop: etsy.com/shop/HoneybeeAlley

Jake lives in the outer sunset with his dog Asha. They can be found at local coffee shops


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and Ocean Beach on nice days, writing in their notebooks, staring off into space, andgenerally living in a fantasy world of their own creation.

Robert Brown moved to SF three years ago, went to culinary school at the CCA, and hasbeen cooking in different restaurants around town. He reads and writes in his spare time.

You can find more poetry at his blogsnackpack874.blogspot.com.Paul Martens of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania is just your average guy who spends his timetyping away at coffee shops in hopes of not having a real job one day. He studied atTemple University with our fearless leader Miss Naughton, did his time under theCalifornian sun, and ended up right back in Philly. He enjoys hookah, cigars, scotchthat's old enough to order its own scotch, and yelling at the page until it fills up with theright words. His dream is to write something that will one day be a clean book on a dustyshelf.Jim Naughton is an illustrator, painter, photographer, videographer, and writer. He is

Alexandras dad. He is pretty rad. He sometimes guest posts on thetsaritsasez.com, andblogs at rumpletweezers.livejournal.com.

Eleanor Leonne Bennett is a 16 year old internationally award winning photographer andartist who has won first places with National Geographic, The World PhotographyOrganisation, Nature's Best Photography, Papworth Trust, Mencap, The Woodland trust

and Postal Heritage. Her photography has been published in the Telegraph, TheGuardian, BBC News Website and on the cover of books and magazines in the UnitedStates and Canada. Her art is globally exhibited. See more of her work at:eleanorleonnebennett.zenfolio.com

Amy Berkowitz is the author of Listen to Her Heart (forthcoming from Spooky Girlfriend)and Lonely Toast (What to Us, 2010). She's also the editor of Mondo Bummer.

Thanks for reading!

Find out more about BE ABOUT IT and learn how you cancontribute to small press publishing by checking out THETSARITSA SEZ (thetsaritsasez.comclick on the ZINE [D.IY.

Publishing] tab!) and by following Alexandra in her varioussocial media shenanigans.

Stalk me online kittens! And dont be shy about submitting to
http://www.eleanorleonnebennett.zenfolio.com/http://www.eleanorleonnebennett.zenfolio.com/

be about it [the surprise issue]

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