the armadillo 2-3

7/27/2019 The Armadillo 2-3

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October 28th, 2013 Volume 2, Issue 3

We dont make mistakes, just happy little accidents. -Bob Ross

Drugs Are Garbage Liz Hock


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HAPPENINGSNews, or something like it. Submit to us! [email protected]

A couch on Womens Centers porch caught re aer a cigarette was put

on it. Luckily a ew locals were driving by and stopped to bring the chairinto the street and extinguish the ames.

ina at Java Joint thinks Im cute.

KEs hand chair was returned with newly painted nger nails. Looking

good boys.

Freshman student believes her Intro to Creative Writing class below her

level o experience.

Bruh Bruh.

Te BFJ has chosen our stories to publish. Agreeing is hard to do.

Student gains a conscious.

Ashes o memory rom the Peet chair blow away in the wind.

First-year student got grounded over the break or breaking curew.

Res Lie reuses to open space in the Art House basement or studio

space, deciding that artists should sufer through their art process by

constantly bumping elbows with each other.

Plenty o people talked during class but nothing was said.

I love you Bufalo Chicken Wrap.

Sarah Mirk rom Bitch Magazine visited Beloit College, delivering a

splendid talk at Richardson Wednesday night. I wasnt there but I heard

a lot o people talking about it.

wo people took mushrooms over the break.

Jon Stone came back to campus with a moustache. No one was surprised

Te News icker: Oct 11th-28th, 2013At least it seemed like a big deal at the time.

Untitled Rachel Braden


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WORKSArt? Submit to us! Campus mail box 314

Tis Nuclear amily tastes my organs;

my purple heart,

my iron lung,

my liver ailure

was laced with nightlights and glow in the dark stars.

intravenous needlepoint

inbred galactic birthmarks.

And You,

space veteran.

pouring Red Scare into Red Cups,

untying Blue ribbons or White america

ashing Nasas Northern Lights

You.

shed Gods grace on me,

like some Embryonic cheese Grater,

uncle om on thanksgiving,

a metal plate in your skull

and in your pants.

ipping of the light switch

to show me the Stars.

Id salute back, but cant eel my arms

lost both to Gravity.

lost both to the War.like Fruit Of the Loom,

or mashed pulp

on the oor.

Cub FoodsEmma Clark

Small ngers,

Gently caressing skin.

Running smoothly,

Like a creeks slow current

Over worn rocks.

Tose days long gone.

Callused hands no substitute,

For those tiny deities.

Smooth rocks

Replaced.

By cracked

Concrete.

Such a presence.

Reduced.

Worn Keaton Guthrie-Goss

Eyes like stones ound

on the oor

o ocean coves,

with

sea snake loveliness.

Sharp neck,

proud as clifs

with haughty air

breathing up salt

rom shell pink lips

whispered across the rocks,crab tongue

clenched my own.

A voice like water tumbling

underneath the waves,

rolling beautiul.

Te SeafarerOrisha Imanja


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Toughts of HomeM. Tomas

I think o home oen. Tough Ive been living within the city or

years now, my mind will wonder beyond the borders o the town,

ar beyond where the last house identies itsel as a residence o

the city. Yes, where I grew up was a antasy or any child. An old

manor-like house in the country with an empty barn out back

complete with a paddock in the ar back, a orest to the right, and

hectic corneld on the le. Tere was a kitchen stretched ur-ther than imaginable, where in crisp all days aer collecting and

burning leaves I ended the work with a soothing sweet cup o

tea. Such a big house required a steady workload o cleaning and

maintenance. Oen times weekends were spent outdoors, where

we worked close to the living things and tall bent oak trees which

slouched like grandparents with their hands on their backs. How

they would liter the tiny parts o themselves onto our lawn. And

I would wander around the yard oraging sticks here and there

like some medic picking up body parts strewn on a battleeld. All

into the re they would go. We had a big, ashy pit where we could

discard anything taken rom the yard. It was gray and unsightly,

cruelly burned into the grass. Oen you could watch the smoke

wisp rom under the ash heap hours aer the ame had stoppeddancing in ull delight. Im brought back to the woods, where I

spent many evenings treading on the ground that could not be

seen rom underneath the dazzling army o green umbrellas that

overwhelmed the orest oor. It was a certain plant whose name

I do not remember. I never learned the name o course, but still

it sticks well within my memory as a great comort.

Portrait of a Dirt Road inPlymouth, V

Honore Santa Eulalia

Te slow crunch

o my old Honda

along your spine

youre tan, been siting

out all summeryour curves near harsh

against that verdent oral dress

rom the birthplace o Calvin Coolidge

though youd never tell

me that

you dont

tell me much

and I dont mind

The Armadillois a callagainst student apathy,

trying to pull togetherthe passionate forces ofthe Beloit campus andcommunity to create aninspired fortnightly pub-lication.

Sumbit to us [email protected]

orCampus Mail Box 314

Sally Klein


5/6

PerspectivesRamblings. Were on Facebook! /thearmadillojournal

Halloween is coming up soon and I wanted to choose a movie to review

that was tting o the holiday. I chose Cat Peoplebecause o a riend o

mine who watches it every year at this time but I have somehow man-

aged to never see it with her.

Te lm ocuses on an odd yet charming Serbian immigrant,

Irena (Simone Simon), who meets Oliver (Kent Smith) at a zoo. As the

two orm a relationship, it is revealed that Irena believes hersel to be a

descendant o a group o Serbians who turn into panthers when sexually

aroused.

I know, it sounds like a ridiculous premise or a movie, but

trust me, it works. And it works mostly due to its budget. Tere is no

way that a movie with this low o a budget could make a scary movie

out o the monster, so instead, it utilizes this limitation, and creates an

atmosphere o tension and unease. Tere are scenes that have become

complete clichs in horror lms but they work in this lm becausethey never develop into ull-blown horror; they just leave you with the

knowledge that the horror is there, behind the scenes.

As the narrative progresses, Oliver, worried about the cat

person antasies that Irena believes, hires psychiatrist Dr. Judd (om

Conway) to help her. As she becomes more distant rom her now

husband, he gets closer to a woman co-worker, Alice (Jane Randolph).

Tis leads to eelings o jealousy and betrayal, and in turn some un-

comortable tension between the two women.

Tis is really the lms orte. Te eerie tension builds and

builds, but there is nothing too out o the ordinary or the rst 45 min-

utes. I mentioned in another review that Te Wicker Man(ed: volume

1, issue1) accomplishes a similar mood: things just dont seem quite

right, but its hard to pinpoint exactly why. Cat People is even better at

this because it is shot in black-and-white. Tis act, allows the director,

Jacques ourneur, to use shadows to create ear. Just watch the scene o

Irena and Alice walking down a deserted sidewalk at night and youll

understand; its the best and scariest scene in a successul movie about

lust and desire.

4.5/5

Cat People:ense Horror at its FinestMatt Siebert

Overheard at Beloit

How do men wear scarves?

Some people just have three boobs, al-right?

I just want cookies!

Oh yeah, he totally shit himself.

Potatoes are just so silky and sensual.Teyre the most sensual vegtable.

Portrait of Leslie KnopeNate Muckley


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