janus: spring 2011

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A magazine of literature and arts Spring 2011

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janus

JANUS

amagazineofliteratureandarts

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volume47spring2011

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TheWillistonNorthamptonSchoolEasthampton,Massachusetts

janusstaff

editors:

KatherineTallman

NickBradyPanktiDalalRachelDeena

DevonGreenwoodJillyLim

EmilyMcHugh

coverphotograph:BonebyEmilyMcHugh

facultyadvisor:SarahSawyer

contentsTheEssenceofVerve,ashortprosepiecebyNickBrady….5Death’sSonnet,apoembyHenryLombino….6Meat,ashortstorybyRaeUnderberg….7Ground,aphotographbyEmilyMcHugh….10BlueSky,aphotographbyLauraBowman….11Clothesline,aphotographbyMariaStrycharz….12vacationforscum,apoembyJeffEichenberger….13ThreeFilmEndings,animaginedproposalbyKatherineTallman….15

Wearewithoutadoubttheessenceofverve,afilledpersonacoalescedinto...somethingmore.Apalefireburnttoembersleftinthepit.Wearegentlecommas,sweptalongthecoastuntilthesandismixed,eachgrainmakingwayforanother.Andalthoughwecrashupontherocksweareonestill,piecingourselvestogetheragainuntilinsomecloisteredsenseofself‐awarenesswefloattogether,upintothestars,beforewefallbackinscaledcopiesofourworld,totheseafromwhichwecame.Itisaprocessdestinedtorepeat,andthesilverthatwillbewithmeforeternity.YouandIarethelining,fillingtheoceans,thelakes,therivers,thesky;transfiguredtofitthevalleysuponwhichwefall.ByNickBrady

Death'sSonnet

Heenters,figurehidinShadow'scloakAworldofonehascrumbledbelowfeetDisaster'swatchistickingtilltheendingstrokeWhenheshalllendahandtoendandgreetTheonelooksup,hissightalongthinaisleAndmeetsamaskofjestsandlaughingjeersWithex'douteyes,itmocksitselfawhileButcanyoulaughatgreatestman'slastfear?TheonehasnotyettakentothehandThemaskthenasks“AmItoomuchafright?”Avisionyoudidnotexpectorplan?”

Afiendishsavior,courtingyoutonight.”Thesmileisuponfrozenlipsandbends.Themaskwillsay“Letdeathandyoubefriends.”ByHenryLombino

Meat

Onefootinfrontoftheother,overandoveragain.Hewasbreathingheavy,pantingasheran.Pushingharderandharder,hehadonegoodspurtofspeedleftasheapproachedhishouse.Hesprinteddownthestraightaway,stoppingwindedattheendofhisdriveway,sweatdrippingdownhisface.Itwasacolddampmorning.Dewcoveredthegrassonthelawnandtheairstuckinhislungsaftereachbreath.Itwasalmostrefreshingafterhisrunbecauseitwascool,buttheoldairandmoistureinhischestmadeitslightlyuncomfortable.Jimwentupthefrontstepstopickupthenewspaper,hishandsgettingwetfromthedropsofwaterslidingovertheplasticbagsafeguardingthenewsoftheday.“Honey,IthinkI’llgotothegrocerystoretoday,”heshoutedintohiswifeasheclosedthefrontdoorbehindhim.

Shewasstillinbed;Sundaywastheironlydayoff.Jimownedahardwarestoreandneededtobetheresixdaysaweek,andLisawasteacher,butshespentherSaturdaystutoringforextramoney.Jimwentupstairs,handedLisathepaper,andbeganundressing.Hepulledhist‐shirtoverhisheadandslippedoffhisshorts,thenthrewbothintothehamperintheclosetandwenttothebathroomtotakeashower.Openingtheglassdoors,heturnedthehotwateronallthewayandthenleanedonthesink,waiting.Hewatchedthesteamslowlyseepoutfromtheenclosedshowerandfillthesmallbathroomallthewaytothecorners.Hewaiteduntilthefogonthemirrorcreptfromtheedges,sohecouldnolongerseehisreflectioninthemirrorbeforegettingintothehotwater.

Jimstoodunderneaththeshowerhead,lettingthehotwaterbeatagainsthisback.Hepickedupthesoapafteraminuteorsoandworkedupawhitelatheroverhisbody.Althoughhewasafewyearspasthisyouthfulprime,hewasstillinfairlygoodshape,hismusclesmovingbackandforth,shrinkingandgrowingasheusedhishands.Heranhisfingersthroughhisdarkhair,coveringitwithwhitefoam.Jimthoughthecouldstayintheshowerlikethisforever,continuallycleaninghisskinandhair,butheknewhehadtogetout.Dryinghimselfwithatowel,hewentbackintothebedroomandgotdressedinjeansandalong‐sleevedshirt.

“I’mgoingtothestorenowtogetsomemoremilk.Whatelsedoweneed?”heaskedhiswife,whowasalreadymorethanhalfwaythroughthepaper.

“Well,weneedbreadandeggsandsomefruitandifyouwantsteakfordinnertonight,weneedmeat.Whydon’tIjustgowithyou?”shesaid,puttingthepaperdown.

“No,it’sfine.Finishthepaper.Bread,eggs,fruit,andsteak.Igotit.”

“Andthemilk.See,whydon’tIjustgowithyou?”

“No.Reallyit’sfine.Youcanrelax.I’lljustwriteitalldown.”

Helefttheroomandcamebackwithapadandpen.Hereadthelistofftoheronemoretime,bread,eggs,fruit,steak,andMILK.

“Anythingelse?”heaskedwiththepenuncappedinhislefthand.

“Wellno,notunlessyouneedmoreSpecialK.Ithoughtyouwouldhaverunoutbynow.Areyousureyoudon’twantmetocome?It’llonlytakemeaminutetogetready.”

“No;it’sfine.I’llbebacksoon.”

Heleanedandgaveherakissgoodbye,butwhenhepulledaway,shegrabbedhishandandpulledhimback.Shegavehimonemorekissgoodbyeandthenwatchedhimwalkoutthedoor.GettingintothecarJimbackedoutofthedrivewayandwentintheoppositedirectionofthegrocerystore.Hedroveafewmilesoutoftownandthengotonthehighwayandstarteddrivingback.OnSundayafternoonnoonewasontheroadsohepresseddownonthegaspedal,slowlyincreasingspeedatfirst,thenharder,acceleratingfasterandfeelingtheforcepushhimbackinhisseat.Helikedthetinglingfeelingrunningthroughhisveinsasthecarincreasedspeedandgotmoreandmoredifficulttocontrol.Hisheartbegantoslowashetooktheexitrampoffthehighwayandpulledintothelotinfrontofthegrocerystore.

Grabbingacartoutfront,heshudderedasthecoldairblewonhimwhenhewalkedthroughtheautomaticslidingdoors.Likeamanonamission,hewentstraighttotherefrigeratoraisleandgrabbedthemilkandeggs.Thenhegotthebreadandheadedovertotheproducesectionandpickedoutsomefruittoaddtothecart.Helookedattheshinyapplespiledhighinapyramid,andthinkingtheyalllookedthesame,hejustgrabbedtheonesontop.Asfortheoranges,hepickedthebrightestones,smellingthestrongcitrusbeforeputtingeachoneinthethinplasticbagandthentiedatightknotoncethebagwasfull.WhenJimgottothebutchersectionhebegantolinger.Ashewalkedthroughthesectionhebegantowonderwhyhewasmovingsoslowlyinsuchaneeriepartofthemarket.Thelightshadabrightfluorescentglowbutforsomereasonthisbackcornerseemeddarkerthantheothers.Therewasaconstanthigh‐pitchedcreakingnoiseasthoughoneofthelightswasswinging,buteverytimehelookedup,hecouldnotlocatetheculprit.Hesteppedinasmallpuddle,breakinghistrance,andlookedoverthepackagesoffrozenmeat.Hebegantothinkaboutthelifeofacow.Theylivegreatforafewyears,gettingfed,caredfor,pamperedevenandeverything’sjustperfect.Then,oneday,BAM,theygettheax,choppedupintopieces,frozen,andputintopackages.Whatalife.

Hestoodamomentlonger,justlookingattheicyslabsofmeat.Hestudiedeachbloodypackage,eachrawcutofmeatwithdifferentamountsofpastywhitefatmarbledthroughtheredmuscle.Hepickedoneofthepackagesinthefrontofthefreezerbutreplaceditandgotonefromthebackrememberingsomethingaboutfreshermeatbeingintheback,closertothebutcher.Hepokedthedeadcowwithhisindexfinger,submergeduptotheendofhisnailincoldmeat;hedroppedthepackagebackintothecoldandwipedhishandoffonhisjeans.Thenheturnedawayandpaidforwhathealreadyhadinthecart.Hecarriedthebagstothecarandloadedtheminthepassenger’sseat.Thegrocerystorehadbeenfairlyemptysohestillhadtimebeforeheneededtogetback.Atfirsthedrovethroughthetown,butthengaveintotheurgetogetbackonthehighwayandjustdrive.Hethoughthecoulddriveforever,justkeeppressingtheaccelerator.

Jimgotoffthehighwayslowingdowntheroaringengine,justtogetbackonagainandexperiencetheaccelerationoncemore.Challengingthesmallcar,hepressedthegaspedaldownandweavedinandoutoflanes,hisbodyquiveringwithexcitement.Hisheartpoundedandhecouldhearthebloodrushingthroughhisveins.Hegotoffthehighway,butdidn’tslowdown,thesmallersidestreetsposingmoreofachallengetohisreflexes.Jimbegantosweatashecruisedbycars,passingwithonlyinchestospareinbetween.Hethoughtheshouldhavebeenaracecardriver;thatwouldhavebeensatisfying.Whenheturnedupthestraightaway,heacceleratedonelasttime.Hetookhisfootoffthegaspedalandletthecarslowdownashepulledintothedriveway.Hepulledthekeysoutoftheignitionandsatforamoment,watchingLisaasshedrankhercupofcoffeeandfinishedthepaperonthecouchinthelivingroom.

ByRaeUnderberg

GroundbyEmilyMcHugh

KitesbyLauraBowman

ClotheslinebyMariaStrycharz

vacationforscumtheseaairisintoxicatingasyoustumblethroughseasideheightsorperhapsitjustseemsthatwayafterdrowningyourselfinbeerandasphyxiatingyourselfwithcigarettesyounearlytripoverthefoyerofthehotelsearchinghopefullyforyourroombeforerealizingwithdespairthatthisisnotyourhotelyoucannotaffordthisthebeachlifehereisparadoxicalandyoucan’thelpbutbeawareofitasyoumovemildlyconsciouspastbrokenhomestowardsthelightsandsoundsandostentatiousgrandeurofthatfilthyplacewecalltheboardwalkyougetthereandyouimmediatelyquestionwhyyoucamethechildreneverywherecontributetothemiseryofitallthefoodwilllikelymakeyousickespeciallywhileswarmsofobesefamiliesengulfyoulikelocustscopsglareatyouincessantlyandeverytimeyouseeaminiskirtyouthink“oh…jailbaitagain!”andtrytoavertyourgazenowyourheaddroopstospitinconspicuouslysodisgustedbythescreamsofconsumerismsurroundingyouthatyoutossyourhalf‐eatencheesesteaktothetrashandmakeforthebeach

dodgingcouplesonblanketslikelandminesinthesandthelappingwavesaremoreinvitingthanhumanitytheoceanbeckonstoyouasifyouwereakidagainthevastmysteryofitallisentrancingyouusedtodreamofwalkingacrossitandnowyouwishtogoforthanddieByJeffEichenberger

ThreeFilmEndings

Ilikewhenmoviesendwitharocksongplayinginthebackground.Herearesomesongsthatwouldmakegoodmovieendings.Ihavealsowrittentheplotsofthesefilms.Song:ThisMustBethePlacebyTalkingHeads

FilmSummary:Joeisinsurancemanwho,inthefilm,goesonatenyearsuburbanodysseytogetawayfromchildandobscenelyloyalwife.Hetriesdrugs,nearlydies,andinonerivetingscenewatchesastrippernamedCircetellhiscat‐callingbuddiesthattheyareagroupofswines.However,aftertenyearsofphilandering,Joedecidestocomehome.ThefilmendswithJoereturningtohishouseandbeinggreetedbyhisthrilledwifeandchild,whilethissongplaysinthebackground.Joeishomeandheishappy.Wellatleastheisforthemoment,butlet’snotthinkabouthowhe’sgoingtorunawayagainnextweek.Song:MoreThanThisbyRoxyMusicFilmSummary:DonnaandAlanwerebabyboomerswhoweretooyoungtoexperiencethesixties,buthadalotoffunintheseventies.Someoftheirfunadventuresincludejoiningacommune,joiningacult,beingMaoistsaroundthetimeeveryonerealizesthatyoushouldn’tsupporthim,cheatingoneachotheratStudio54,andgettingdrunkwithJoeyRamoneattheCBGB’s.Nowit’stheeightiesandDonnaandAlanhaveabandonedtheirswingingwaystobeWall‐Streetyuppies.ThefilmendswithAlanrecliningonhiscouchinhisManhattanapartmentandsayingtoDonna“thereisnothingmorethanthis.”Shestaresintothecamerainhorrorwhilethissongplaysandthecreditsroll.Also,itis1987andthestockmarketisabouttocrash.Song:TraininVainbyTheClashFilmSummary:OswaldisayoungworkingclassBritishmanwho’sjusttryingtomakeendsmeetinThatcher’sEngland.Onedayhemeets,andbeginstodate,Nancy,theprettygirlwhoworksatthelocaldiscotheque.SheintroducesOswaldtoagangofskinheads,andhestartsperformingsmallfavorsforthemasawaytopayrentforhissmallapartmentinthebrutaliststylehousingprojectthathelivesin.Theskinheadsturnouttobebadfriends.TheyblamehimfortheirmurderofalocalPakistaniboy,andOswaldgetsarrested.Oswaldgoestocourtandinacourtroomscenethatoccursonlyinmovies(andJodiPiccoultnovels)hewatchesNancytestifyagainsthimandrealizesshesethimup.Thefilmendswiththissongplaying,whileOswaldisdraggedtoprison,watchingNancywalkawaywithhernewskinheadboyfriend.ByKatherineTallman