Atom Magazine Winter 2012

AT AT MM Winter 2012

In This Issue:

DIVE DEEP • AFTER HOLLYWOOD • DEATH STAR DISCO BALL DEATH ROW DINING • AN INTERVIEW WITH EMMA T. CAPPS DEAR PROCRASTINATION • BACKYARD BEEKEEPING • & MORE…

Featured Photographer:

Raymond Lin

“It's the photographer's job to document their version of events in the universe. I think the more access we have to different events and perspectives, the more we realize that we're all very similar. It can help us with the fear of the unknown, the fear of other people unknown to us. I think that would benefit humanity greatly.”

See a complete interview with the artist at blog.atommag.net.

Raymond Lin’s work can be found at naturalfreq.com.

M

aybe I’m idealistic, or maybe I’ve just watched too much Star Trek, but I feel that one of the fundamental components of the human condition is the urge to explore. We seem determined to constantly expand our boundaries and while this has taken negative forms in the past, I’d like to perpetuate my blissful idealism by saying that it has also led to some of our greatest achievements as a species.

We’ve walked on the moon, been to the bottom of the sea and even peeked into the past to understand how our universe began. Beyond just our scientific achievements, exploration has manifested itself in the form of ballets and paintings, poems and sculptures. Exploration of our human condition, our personal shortcomings, mannerism and even our most fatal flaws has led to the creation of our greatest creative works. What is Charles Bukowski if not the greatest explorer of the ongoing effects of meaningless sex and substance abuse?

The issue of Atom is all about all of that. From the very literal (we built submarine) to the more abstract (a fourteen-year-old girl who has accomplished more that I have at twenty-four), our staff and writers have asked themselves what exploration means to them. So, dear reader, I ask you read on we humbly to challenge yourself to go where no one has gone before. I think you’ll like it.

Your Pal,

Spencer “Legend” Sands

Brendan “Top Gun” Nystedt Ashleigh “A Few Good Men” Hill

Editorial Ashleigh R. Hill Brendan G. Nystedt Spencer J. Sands Contributors Bri Bruce Coby Zeifman Diane Solomon Elizabeth Behrens Fordy Shoor Kyla McCracken Molly C. Loar Phineas X. Jones W. Clay Featured Photographer Raymond Lin Additional Photography NASA Ashleigh R. Hill Brendan G. Nystedt Felipe Skroski Steve Clabuesch Dr. Marcus Gossler Mats Stafseng Einarsen Almokla JBUK_Planet Woodym555 All work is property of each respective creator except for Creative Commons materials used under the CC License.

When attempting one of our DIY projects, please take proper safety precautions. Don’t be a dummy.

Special Thanks Our friends and family

Š2011 Atom Magazine

Dive Deep • Death Star Disco Ball by Molly C. Loar

Death Row Dining

Atom talks to Emma T. Capps • Post-Shuttle Depression • 5 Reasons Why Downton Abbey Isn’t Just Another British Costume Drama

Backyard Beekeeping by Diane Solomon • Alaska! by Elizabeth Behrens

The Keyboard with a Cult • Tough Enough

Chasing the Dorado: Exploring the Sea of Cortez by Bri Bruce • Featured Artist: Phineas X. Jones • It’s Goodbye For Now by Coby Zeifman • Checkout Counter by Fordy Shoor • Dear Procrastination by Kyla McCracken

Dive Two guys’ ernest attempt Off-the-shelf

By Spencer Sands and Brendan Nystedt

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verybody has been asked the timeless question, What superpower would you want? I can honestly say that I would, nine times out of ten, choose the

Aquaman suite. Breathing underwater? Commanding (read: not talking to, but bossing around) sea-life? Super strength from all that water pressure? It all sounds awesome to me. It could be because I surf, and it could be because I fish, but I think that maybe the biggest influence on me was that

awesome episode of seaQuest where they invent gill surgery. Truly incredible. With this stupid pop-culture history swimming around in my brain, I can

honestly say that I have always been fascinated by underwater exploration.

Allow me to recant the genesis of this D.I.Y. project: I was watching television (yes, even online magazine moguls watch it) when I came across a show which featured a group of nerds trying to build a submarine. They succeeded and it swam around a bay and everyone was very proud of themselves. Everyone but me. Where were the torpedos? Where was the giant squid? Not a single blurry photograph of a mermaid was taken, and I found myself asking, why the hell not? Perhaps it s my

ego, or my hyper-inflated sense of what I am capable of building, but I decided then and there that I, too, could build a submarine. If those highly qualified engineers with their own television show and comparatively unlimited resources could do it, obviously I could too. Obviously.

DEEP to build a submarine out of components

I was largely right. With a completely rudimentary understanding of both electricity and hydrodynamics, a little (a lot of) help from my friends, a lot of questions

asked of people who run R.C. shops and more than a couple trips to the hardware store, me and my crack team (fellow Atom editor, Brendan) successfully created

an awesome little sub. Is it perfect? Not yet, but it serves as a great foundation for further additions. As is so often the case with Atom projects, this is by no means the only way to accomplish the goal of building a sub, but can serve as a great jumping off point should you be so inspired. If you take anything away from this article, it s that you shouldn t be afraid to try something stupid. It keeps working out for us.

Let me explain how I did it. Firstly, I assumed (almost correctly) that it would be appropriate to have an airtight, light weight frame to balance out buoyancy. I used

PVC piping, fused together at the joints with that amazingly bad smelling blue adhesive. The shape I chose was admittedly arbitrary- I wanted something that would

be long and skinny while still having a place to mount the upright motors that would control the sub s ability to dive and rise. There are so many correct answers to

frame shape, so just go with what feels good to you. I think the most traditional would probably be building a cube to fully inclose all the parts. Again, my sense is go with whatever works for you. Yellow seemed like the obvious color to paint a submarine. Initially, we did it as a stupid Beatles/Jaques Cousteau reference but the visibility that it offered as we lowered it into our murky local lake made it a practical consideration.

Next up I needed thrust. I chose bilge pumps for the obvious reason that they are water proof. I was cheep and went with two 1100-gallons per hour pumps for

thrust and two 500-gallon per hour pumps for up and down control. I carefully cut the bottom part of their housings off with my Dremel too to expose their props.

The motors come equipped with impellers, so I removed them and replaced them with propellers designed for remote control boats. I picked the propellers up at my local hobby shop for like five bucks a piece. I used marine epoxy to attach the props.

I really lucked out when it came to the controller. Brendan and I were looking for the propellers at a hobby shop when we found a Japanese-made, four-switch controller. Seemingly, it was designed for model trains, or the like. The controller was a wired one, which (being the idiots that we are) was not what we were

looking for. However, the shop owner quickly explained that it would be difficult to go wireless because it would inhibit our ability to go deep. It seems obvious now, but water and air are not the same thing and the signal from a wireless controller would be interfered with by water. Moreover, the wired controller cost

twenty bucks instead of the hundreds that we could have spent on a controller and receiver. We were sold. Some assembly was required but it was by no means the most difficult part of the build. The four switches were a perfect fit for the four bilge pumps we were working with and it was no great task to map them correctly. CAT5 ethernet cable has four pairs of wire in it and we were able to use fifty feet of it as a tether between controller and boat.

The battery was probably the most daunting part of the how process. Being the liberal-arts-educated young men that we are, we really had no idea what to do

about a 12-volt battery and a body of water. Using the scientific method in the most childish way possible, we hypothesized (guessed) that it would be possible to keep the battery above water. However, that would require sending power to the sub over the ethernet cable tether that we were using. We were thrilled to learn that, while there was some power loss over the fifty feet, the motors still worked great.

Attaching everything was a chore and required us to work at a much slower pace than we were accustomed to. We had to be very deliberate about how we connected the wires, and since the Japanese controller didn t have a wiring diagram, we had to make careful notes about what went to what. We used heat

shrink to add a level of security to all the connections that were destined to travel beneath the waves. The heat shrink slid over the wires and, with the clever

application of the heat gun, it became a tight fit. Zip-ties helped us put it all together. The cables were reinforced to take strain off the junctions, and the motors were firmly held in place and even our very technically ballast system (water bottles) were mounted using every tech guys go-to. The water bottles were a good solution for the problems we were having with balancing the sub in the water. We wanted the sub to be just slightly denser than neutral-buoyancy, and we

wanted it to stay on a level plane for easier driving. By putting an empty water bottle at either end of of the boat, and filling them with a little water, we were able to get it to float/sink exactly as we wanted it to.

After some small tests in my parents hot-tub, we felt compelled to take it to our local lake. We asked the guys at the rowing club if we could launch of their dock and they agreed (they looked a slightly upsetting combination of confused, dismissive and bored by our question but whatever, they said yes). We dropped it in the water and it went like hell. Not very fast hell, but it was great. It moved around and dove when we told it to. Generally, it was a great time.

We have big plans for the future of our sub. We would like to add a camera. Well, we already had a video camera, but we want to wire a webcam along the

tether back to a computer on the surface so that we can see whats happening down there. We d also like to get reverse figured out. Right now, all our motors are running unidirectionally, but we re sure it can be fixed. That s what makes us so happy about this project: it is so expandable. We have a great frame, working propulsion and an awesome paint job and that is only the beginning. There is so much more we can do and we can t wait to try it all.

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The Build 2

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1. Gluing the PVC frame 2. The controller that runs all four motors 3. Proof of concept testing in Spencer’s parents’ hot-tub (success!)

4. Yellow paint completed 5.Zip-ting everything in place 6.The final product!

7.Our final testing grounds, Lexington Reservoir 8.The box (cooler) that houses our power supply and our very technical tether 9. Diving deep and taking murky, blurry video

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9 See video from this test launch at blog.atommag.net!

Death star Disco Ball

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By Molly C. Loar

f you simply want a traditional disco ball, it is cheaper and easier to just go out and buy one. Just to be honest. However, if you want something geeky-fun-cool that sparks comments and gets attention, then this project is for you!

There are a few specific details about this project that make it possible to shout That s no disco ball ‒ it s a SPACE STATION! The iconic scooped-out divot in the upper hemisphere of an otherwise perfect orb is the primary difference and is a fun connection between

gigantic space lasers of planet-destroying death and the more subtle, laser and strobe

light settings of dance parties. Meanwhile, a row of small tiles around the orbs middle

work as a visual equator, and a few small tiles glued to larger tiles in a random locations help create a sense of the details the original Death Star had. The goal

here is to create something so cool, you d eagerly sell out your Rebel friends on Dantooine just to party with it!

What You’lL NEED:

10 inch Styrofoam ball ($19.99)

1 square mirrored glass tiles ‒ x275

0.25 square mirrored glass tiles ‒ x75 Various circular mirrored glass tiles

(need 0.25 diameter x6, 0.75 diameter x1, 1 diameter x1) An X-Acto tool

Needle-nose pliers with wire-cutting feature

A roll of tape or a bowl or other cylinder form

(to use as a base to rest Styrofoam ball on when painting)

Protective eyewear ‒ glasses or safety goggles

Silver acrylic paint

Medium or large paint brush

A screw-in metal hook

(hooked or closed-loop top, with 1 -2 screw length; will support weight of disco ball)

A bowl (or a few) to dump glass tiles into, while you work ‒ can sort tiles by size

A piece of flat ribbon at least 11 inches long

A hot-melt glue gun & several glue sticks

A scrap piece of cardboard or wood to rest the glue gun on while working

A container (bowl, dish, other) to put the paint in

Scrap paper or cloth or something to cover & protect your work surface to catch paint drops & glass chips

A reference photo of the Death Star from Star Wars can be a helpful aid to look at, easily found on the internet ‒ or why not

watch a movie while you work! The completed Death Star appears in Star Wars: Episode IV (A New Hope).

Start with painting the entire Styrofoam ball with the silver paint. This will make any un-tiled spaces

less noticeable later. Anticipate likely getting paint on your fingers and hands, as you ll be moving the

ball around. You can use a roll of tape or a bowl to set the ball atop of while you work, to create a base

and prevent your project from rolling away. (This will likely get paint on it, too.) Once the styrofoam ball

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is entirely painted, let it sit and dry thoroughly; overnight is best.

This next step is optional, if you are confident in creating a steady, centered, equator line of glued tiles, without use of a guide: I used a piece of ribbon, hot-glued around the center of the ball, to easily

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create a guideline equator and it gave me a place to start work from. Line part of the ribbon with the hot-melt glue, careful not to burn your fingers, and center it on the Styrofoam ball as you wrap it around.

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Begin to hot-glue the small 0.25 inch square mirror tiles next to each other, atop the ribbon strip, all the way around ball, until they meet up again.

Above the equator line, hot-glue the large 1 inch square tiles next to each other, all the way around the ball, until they meet up again, creating a row.

Using an X-Acto blade, carve out a circular dent where you want your laser emitter disc to be set.

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Once you have the shape you want, paint this area with the silver paint. You can keep working on

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gluing tiles elsewhere, or take a break for a bit, while this area dries.

When that area *is* dry, use a singular 0.5 circular mirrored tile as the center of the laser dent area.

Break large tiles into pieces to fit as interior tiles of the dent. Don t worry if it doesn t look perfect‒ The primary function of the disco ball is to reflect light and be a source for fun and interest. You

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might have more jagged-shaped tiles than straight-cut ones, but it will add character to your

personalized work of art! Continue hot-gluing the large tiles next to each other in rows around the ball, both above and below the equator.

If there are odd-sized gaps when trying to finish a row, you can break the mirrored glass tiles to

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custom sizes, using the interior cutting edge of the needle-nose pliers. Wear safety glasses to protect your eyes when shaping tiles, and keep track of glass clippings ‒ they may fly out of your workspace, and will need to be swept up or picked-up with a piece of tape. Use caution as you handle and work with the glass tiles, to avoid cuts. Practice breaking tiles over a bowl to catch the bits. Try quick, pressured snaps of the pliers to create cleaner breaks.

As you move towards the top and bottom axis, it will become harder to fit the tiles beside each other ‒

that s okay! Do what you can to make things fit, and cut corners if you have to (actually, physically, trim the tile corners, if necessary, using the needle-nose pliers). You can use smaller tiles to fill in the spaces nearer the axis.

At the top axis, screw in the hook, from which you will be hanging the disco ball. Put some hot-glue

around where the hook meets the Styrofoam, in order to better secure it. Using a line sturdy enough

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to carry the disco ball s weight, tied through the top axis hook, you can now hang up your project.

As an optional step, if you have extra tiles, you can finish your Death Star Disco Ball by hot-gluing a few of the small mirrored tiles centered atop larger ones, sparingly and randomly around the ball, to create a bit more surface interest, detail, and light reflection.

Molly Loar is a talented gal with a spirit keen to learn, share, and enjoy. From a small town start to big city life, she is presently based in metro Chicago, IL. She is a graduate of the Rochester Institute of Technology, with an AAS in Industrial Design and a BS concentrating in Professional & Technical Communications.

For kicks, Molly works as a back-issues babe for Challengers Comics + Conversation and at events like C2E2 in Chicago. Miss Loar’s disco ball fabrication talents were originally commissioned by the great folks at Challengers Comics for New Year’s 2011-2012.

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Death Row Dining

S

tar Trek postulated that space

you ll be walking down the street when you are

was the final frontier, and, later,

crushed by a piece of space junk, that last

seaQuest insisted that, actually,

remnants of that shitty hot dog you just bought

waves. We re here to tell you that

perhaps the most luxuriant is taste.. Eating is,

they were both wrong. News flash: you and

simply put, one of the great joys of life (and the

necronauts, you are going to kick the bucket.

first world).

that final frontier is beneath the

everyone you know will die. That s right, future It s a fact.

lingering on your pallet. Of all our senses,

reason for the global obesity epidemic in the

With that in mind, we want you to embrace our

It s not very often that we envy death row

new culinary philosophy. We are proposing a

inmates, but they do have a couple of things

new holiday. A non-denominational, completely

going for them. First off, think of all that free

selfish expression of the joys of the human

been talking about. Also, ladies seem to love

good holiday needs a date, so, since it doesn t

them. They re constantly getting conjugal visits

really matter, we ll arbitrarily pick one: February

that multiple members of the Manson family

would want to eat if you knew there was no

have, since the time of their incarceration, been

next time. It s our learned opinion that a three

time. We could finally finish that novel we ve

and propositions for marriage. Did you know

joined in holy matrimony with their serial killer

experience and a tribute to gluttony. Every

8th. Once a year, meditate on what it is that you

course spread may be best for this purpose:

groupies?

•An amuse-bouche (you are the chef for this Really, though, the thing we here at Atom

exercise, so this delightful French term is wholly

and rapists is the fact that they get to choose

you for what is to come

the last thing they will ever eat. How many

•A main course to fully immerse you in the

Magazine envy most about those zany murders

civilians get that luxury? More likely than not,

appropriate) to excite the pallet and prepare

experience, and, finally,

•A dessert to settle you back down and

from a desire on the part of law enforcement

remind you of the finality of both life and this

to have the condemned take their last breaths

meal.

in a relatively sedate way, and not make martyrs.

As with all holidays, there will have to be some rules. Firstly, this has to be your last meal and

What s fun is that today, in the United States,

should be personal, and more importantly, it

condemned can and can t do. In Florida, there

should be self-indulgent. Secondly, no

is a forty dollar budget (aren t you glad we

and you shouldn t either. If you can t eat it,

Texas has a wonderful asshole named

throw it away. We know it seems wasteful, but

Lawrence Russell Brewer to thank for the

so is Christmas. Finally, should you consume

abolition of last meal requests. His 2011 last

reason survive another solar cycle, you may

omelet, a triple bacon cheeseburger, a pizza,

not eat the same twice. Once you eat it, it

fried okra, a pile of BBQ, a pint of ice-cream, a

of last meals. And, honestly, life is too short to

what could conservatively be described as a

eat the same last meal twice.

slab of fudge. The kicker? He didn t eat a bite.

no one else s. Do not share your last meal. This

leftovers. They don t get them on death row

your last meal, and then for some inexplicable

should be dead to you, at least in the context

there are a lot of kooky limits on what the

aren t as mean as the Sunshine State?). Also,

meal order? Two chicken-fried steaks, an

couple of root beers, half a loaf of bread and

Apparently, his tummy hurt.

Think about it, if you observe our wonderfully new celebration, you can spend the rest of the year knowing that, should your time come, you

Other famous last meals include:

did in fact get a last meal. True, it s not your

•Timmy McVeigh wanted a couple of pints of

most recent meal, but at least it s something.

mint chocolate chip ice cream.

And it s our hope that it will do something to help us all die a little happier.

•Joseph Mitchell Parsons asked for a pack of grape Hubba Bubba to share with his kin-folk

Historical footnotes on last meals: We would

on top of his meal of three Whoopers (how

understanding of this glorious new holiday with

someone who is about to die?).

be utterly remise if we didn t further your

eerie must it be to make fast food for

a little historical context.

Last meals are by no means a new phenomenon. According to Wikipedia, that allknowing source of all quasi-factual truths, the

•Ted Bundy opted out of his last meal. As

such, he received steak and eggs with all the regular breakfast accoutrements.

Romans, the Greeks and the Chinese all

•John Allen Muhammad received a fairly

subscribed to the idea. Also, those historical

standard chicken meal, but what makes him

death enthusiasts, the Aztecs, fattened their

special is that he also got several cakes. How

That s why their government was always broke:

certainly more than a couple.

would-be sacrifices for as long as a year.

many? We may never know for sure, but

too many social programs. As we move closer to modernity, the concept really started to

•Clarence Ray Allen ate a meal of buffalo steak

last meal represented the soon-to-be-

free pecan pie á la mode with sugar-free black

deceased coming to terms with the inevitable.

walnut ice cream. We guess he was watching

develop. Throughout Europe, the taking of a

The psychology behind the practice stems

and KFC followed up by a serving of sugar-

his girlish figure.

Our choices follow...

Spencer When I began thinking about what my last meal would be, I starting a mental battle that continues within me even as I type this. I love food, and because of this relationship, the idea of committing to one final meal is utterly torturous for me. I love so many detectible things, how could I possibly choose just three? After much deliberation, I have selected three dishes that I know I will love even if I will be plague by my own questioning of what could have been...

To warm my mouth up, to prime it for the meal to come, I have chosen that perennial favorite of coastal Mexico; ceviche. For those of you who are not lucky enough to have consumed this truly wonderful dish, ceviche is simply fished cook in acid, typically that of a lime. The fish retains that incredible freshness that raw fish has, both texturally and gustatorily, despite being fully cooked.

Spicy, and light, ceviche is a wonderful way to wake up your taste buds.

I selected my main course for many reasons, but paramount among them was an overall concern for my cardiovascular health.

That said, if I know my time on this plane is limited, why the hell should I care. For my main dish, I will be dining on Loco Moco.

Loco Moco is a wonderfully simple meal. Hawaiian in origin, it is simply rice, with a hamburger patty, fried eggs and gravy all stacked on to of it, in that order. Unlike the first course which has an emphasis on the subtlety of flavors, Loco Moco is comparatively a culinary punch in the face. Never being one to leave well enough alone, my Loco Moco is only slightly molested.

The only really change I made is my gravy. Instead of brown gravy, I opted for a southern style red-eye gravy. Red-eye gravy is a delightful concoction of coffee (in this case espresso) and the drippings of a pork product, typically virginia ham, though I used bacon. Plated all together and topped with chopped green onions, I feel as though I would not ever need another meal.

I am not a huge fan of sweets and I feel that my choice in desserts reflects that. The last thing I think I would ever want to taste is affogato. So simple and so delicious, affogato is nothing more than a small scoop of vanilla ice-cream or gelato, drowned (what affogato means in Italian) in a shot of espresso. The creaminess plays of the bitterness, while the richness of both items serve to beautiful harmonize.

Brendan

For my starter, I chose to eat shiitake mushroom nigiri-style sushi: 3 dried shiitake mushroom caps A package of sushi nori Sushi rice seasoning Japanese rice 1 cup Soy Sauce 1 tbsp Sugar 1. Season the rice as the instructions on the seasoning dictate.

2. Let the mushrooms soak in the soy sauce and sugar until they re completely hydrated.

3. Take sushi rice and mould it in your hands to for the bottom of the nigiri. Seat a mushroom on top of the rice.

4. Finish with a strip of nori, tying the two elements together.

For my entrée, I chose the classic pairing of chicken and waffles.

About as unlikely a couple as Felix and Oscar, somehow the savory, crispy chicken and the crunchy, mildly sweet starchiness of the waffle tied together with maple syrup makes for a mindblowingly delicious meal.

Shallow-fried chicken 5 drumsticks 2 breasts 1.5 cups of buttermilk 2.5 cups of all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon of paprika salt and pepper 2 quarts of canola oil (you'll be frying in it) 1. Halve the chicken breasts, get yourself a big bowl and throw all your chicken parts in with the buttermilk. Coat well with your hands. Let sit for about a half hour.

2. Mix the flour, paprika, salt and pepper (feel free to put as much pepper as you want) and throw the concoction into a plastic or paper bag 3. Retrieve the chicken and thoroughly coat each one in the coating. Shake that bag!

4. Put the coated pieces on a drying rack and let dry for a 20 minutes either in the open air on in the fridge. This is to evaporate any excess water from the outside of the chicken, making the frying process less violent and messy.

5. Preheat your oil in a deep cast iron skillet on high heat (depending on your skillet, fill it as close to half as you safely can without causing an overflow when meat is added). Be careful! It will be a little messy and boiling oil is dangerous!

6. Put in some pieces of chicken, skin-side down, flipping when the first side is brown. This shrinks the skin and seals off the meat inside from the oil. Once both sides are brown, kill the heat by half, put a lid on the skillet and let the meat cook for around 20 minutes. Flip at the 10 minute mark.

7. Put the chicken on some paper bags to soak up the excess oil.

If you're making a full batch of chicken, pop pieces into the oven on 'low' or 'warm' to keep it nice and warm for dinnertime.

Waffles 2 eggs 2 cups all-purpose flour 1/4 cup milled flaxseed 2 cups milk 1/2 cup vegetable oil (pick your favorite) 1 tablespoon sugar 4 teaspoons baking powder 1 teaspoon vanilla extract a hearty pinch of salt 1. Beat the eggs for a minute in a bowl. Mix the dry ingredients in another bowl with a fork or your hands.

2. Add the oil, milk and vanilla to the eggs. Slowly mix in the dry ingredients.

3. Mix the batter until an even consistency.

4. Put into your hot waffle iron. Be careful to start cautiously when adding batter to avoid batter leakage.

Put the shallow-fried chicken on a waffle, coat thoroughly with real maple syrup (this is your last meal! Do it up right!) and eat it all up.

For dessert, an old, reliable, tasty, simple treat. Bread pudding: Stale bread (just make sure it s enough to fill a normal sized casserole dish) 2 tablespoons butter 4 eggs, 2 cups milk 3/4 cup sugar 1 teaspoon vanilla A dash of cinnamon and nutmeg 1. Mix the wet ingredients, add in the sugar, vanilla and sugar and cinnamon last.

2. Cube your bread. Depending on what kind of bread you re using, they won t be cubes but you can make bread pudding out of almost any kind of bread.

3. Put all the bread pieces into a big bowl and pour the liquid mixture over it. Let soak until the bread absorbs most of the liquid.

4. Transfer the bread to your casserole dish.

5. Crumble the butter on top of the bread.

6. Bake for about 45 minutes at 350 degrees.

Ashleigh

For my last meal choices, I went with straight up comfort food, Ashleigh Hill style. There is no real rhyme or reason to why I chose these three dishes, other than because I think they are delicious. I figure, if I m about to die, why not eat things I love before I go?

Appetizer̶ I m a simple girl with simple needs (sure), so for an appetizer I decided to go basic and do a nice brie, crackers and dried cranberries. I chose a French brie with pepper, though I have yet to meet a brie that wasn t delicious. I wrapped the brie in tin foil and put it under the broiler for about 5 minutes, just to get it nice and melted, and then plated it with dried cranberries and glutenfree crackers.

If you want to get really fancy, buy a round of brie, some phyllo dough and some nice berries (lingonberries are especially delicious). Using at least 3 sheets of the phyllo dough, lay it one sheet at a time, brush it with melted butter and cover with another sheet of dough. Then, place the berries (or any jam) in the center, place the brie on top and wrap the dough around them. Bake at 375 degrees for about 20 minutes or until golden brown.

Main̶ As a born and raised Californian, there s nothing I love more than Mexican food.

My exceptionally talented roommate, Kyla McCracken, a west coast native as well, makes some killer tortillas and refried beans, so for my main course I chose an open face breakfast burrito. Full credit for this recipe (and my subsequent full tummy) go to Kyla, with many, many thanks.

Tortillas: Makes about 15 tortillas 2 cups Corn Masa 1 ½-2 cups Water Mix together to make the tortilla dough. Roll into balls that are about the size of a golf ball. Kyla has a fancy tortilla press, but you can also use two flat plates covered in plastic wrap to flatten out the tortillas. Cook on a hot, cast iron grill for about 2 minutes on each side or until crispy.

Sauté zuchinni chunks for 5-8 minutes in olive oil then add chopped broccoli. Sauté everything for for 6 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Refried Beans: 1 can of beans (whatever your preference) Half of a sweet onion 1 cup Vegetable Broth ¼ cup Nutritional Yeast or Cheese 1 tablespoon of flour Olive oil Salt Pepper Chili Powder In a pot, heat olive oil. Chop half a sweet onion and sauté it until it is very soft with salt, pepper, and a heavy hand of chili powder (depending on how spicy you want your beans to be.

Add 1 can of drained and rinsed beans. Kyla cooked dry beans and used them instead of using canned, but you can go either way. Add half a cup of vegetable broth and mash the beans using a fork or a potato masher. Use the other half-cup of vegetable broth as you mash until it is the right consistency, depending on if you want runny beans or pasty beans. Add a ¼ cup of nutritional yeast (or cheese) and a tablespoon of flower (Kyla used gluten free flour but you can of course use regular flour). Mash until it is all refried bean-y Eggs!

Kyla made cheesy, scramby eggs but you can do any kind of egg you want.

Assemble!

Tortilla, beans, veggies, eggs. Done.

Dessert̶ Banana pudding is one of my favorite desserts and it turns out it is surprisingly easy to make.

I adapted my version from the famous Magnolia Bakery recipe, which is available online. You need: 1 (3.4-ounce) package instant vanilla pudding mix (preferably JellO brand) 3 cups heavy cream 1 (12-ounce) box Nabisco Nilla Wafers 4 cups sliced ripe bananas Milk (for the pudding, follow the directions on the box) Make the pudding and let it set for a few hours in the fridge.

Once the pudding is done, make the whipped cream (making whipped cream is super easy, just add a drizzle of vanilla and a few teaspoons of sugar to the heavy cream and, well, whip it (I used an electric hand mixer but you can do it in a Kitchenaid if you have one). I usually just add sugar a little bit at a time until it tastes how I want it to). Cut the bananas up and add them to the pudding. I took about half of the whipped cream and mixed it into the pudding, though you can use more than that. I wanted some to layer in my cup.

Once everything is prepared, it s time to put it all together! I put mine in cups but you can make it in a large bowl if you are making this for a bigger group of people. Starting with Nilla wafers at the bottom, layer in all the ingredients. Top with whipped cream and enjoy!

Atom talks to

Emma T Capps

By Brendan Nystedt

W

hat were you doing when you were 14? Fretting over your pre-algebra homework? Playing PokĂŠmon on your Game Boy Color? Meet Emma T. Capps. She's 14, but she has a successful web comic and is an accomplished, award-winning storyteller. Her web comic is called The Chapel Chronicles and it follows the misadventures of one Chapel Smith, a precocious 11-yearold who is obsessed with Lady Gaga, Doctor Who and Angel. On top of the Chapel Chronicle strips, Emma works on Chapel greeting cards and working on other comic projects all while going to school. We had a chance to talk with her about her art, where her inspiration comes from and much more.

How long have you been drawing?

Ever since I was really really young. My earliest memories are in preschool, drawing with everyone else when we had our drawing activities. In Kindergarten, I would do a little series of books which were maybe 25 pages long and I would write them and illustrate them with my mom. I have many memories of drawing with friends and doodling on notes and assignments. That kind of thing.

How did you get started with Chapel and doing online comics?

Well, let's see. I started drawing comics in earnest in 6th grade. At that point, I wasn't aware of web comics being an option for putting your work out there. I read a couple such as XKCD but I wasn't familiar with web comic culture. And in 8th grade, when I started drawing strips of Chapel, I intended to put them on my blog as a way to share them with my friends and family. But at the same time I was starting to read more web comics and I realized that was a really great way of putting them out there without having to print them and distribute copies. I thought it was a really great idea. And because my dad is a computer programmer, I could have the free labor to have a nice little site. So at first it was a way to show it to my friends and family pretty easily because a lot of my family lives in faraway states. Then I started showing it to my friends from school and they would tell their friends.

After a while, it began to have an audience online. In retrospect, when I started putting my Chapel strips online I didn't have any idea about web comics but I'm really, really glad I did put the comic online. It helped it find an audience in amazing ways. I'm always really happy when I get to respond to comments on the website and there are regulars who comment on it now which wouldn't have happened if I didn't put it online.

How are you promoting your work?

Well, I started off, as I mentioned, showing it to friends and family. What really helped was going to MoCCA Fest at the Museum of Comic and Cartoon Arts in New York City. I went there right after I started putting the comics online so everyone I talked to at the convention hadn't read it before. I got a lot of readers from that because after picking up the print version, people would go online to read it. So a lot of it was word of mouth but a lot of it was people at conventions (at MoCCA and at APE in San Francisco recently). What was very surprising to me was before I did the comics, I was published in Stone Soup magazine which is a magazine for kids which publishes short stories with illustrations by kids. I had 3 stories that I wrote and illustrated and 3 stories that I just did the illustrations for. What's happened is that people commenting on my comics have come from Stone Soup and would read my work in that magazine. I sent a letter to the magazine because I was too old to have my work published by them. The editor published the URL to my website along with my letter and so I've been surprised how many people came from that. So, word of mouth, readers of my past published work and I've started using Project Wonderful which has been really helpful. I'm really

grateful that there are people who read the comic every since week and comment on it.

Project Wonderful is pretty cool.

Yeah. I don't normally think about ads and that kind of thing but my mom found out about it. We thought we would try it (we weren't expecting results) but there were a lot of people who came over. One thing that was really interesting was that we had Chapel dressed up as the TARDIS, which is a time machine from the science fiction show Doctor Who. And we put that on the ad because we wanted to have a fresh ad and we got a lot of people who recognized it and liked the show and came to read the comic. That was a happy little accident.

Where did Chapel come from?

I conceived the character two years ago. I was doodling at night and I was trying to see how much emotion I could capture in very few lines. I drew a character that was Chapel. She just appeared on the page. In the morning I showed my mom my doodles and she was drawn to Chapel. So when my mom's birthday was coming up, I wrote her a poem. My parents are notoriously difficult to buy for -- whenever they want something they just buy it for themselves. I can never think of anything to get them for their birthdays or Christmas! So, for my mom's birthday, I wrote my mom a little poem and illustrated each stanza with Chapel and I put it together in a book.

The present was such a hit, that for other holidays I made Chapel drawings for my parents. Christmas that same year, I made another book, only this one had a poem where each part was illustrated with a watercolored cartoon of Chapel. My parents really liked that and I started making greeting cards for them. A the same time, I started to draw Chapel cartoons to amuse myself when I was working on another project. At my school, there's a program in 8th grade called the recital project. Every 8th grader pursues a passion and presents it to the school at the end of the year. I had the idea that maybe I could make a series of Chapel greeting cards for my recital project. By then, I had a better idea of what Chapel's character was. At first it wasn't clear who she was but her personality started to emerge as I was making the cards. I started the project and in the first few months I had a set of about 25 cards for various holidays and I started an online store to sell them mostly to friends and family.

That was fun but the project was supposed to last an entire year and I had finished in a couple months. I was working on a comic called Jam Days to submit to the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards but in order to have something to do I worked on that for my project. But by the end of December, I was also done with that.

Something that I always wanted to do was to try to draw a Chapel comic every day for a month. First, I chose the four-panel layout. Before, I had done comics that were long and it wouldn't be possible to do one each day along with going to school and doing homework. I started that in March. I wanted to start posting them to the web as I drew them but I figured if I stretched them out, that month's worth of work would last until September when I

started being home schooled. That's when I started drawing them again. In the interim, I colored all the strips; the more recent strips have much more detailed backgrounds because in the intervening months I practiced a lot with doing backgrounds and developed a more expressive coloring style. I'm really happy about how they're turning out. It's fun to look back now that what started as a doodle has turned into my favorite character. I never thought Chapel would turn out to be something like this.

Where do you get the ideas for your Chapel strips?

A lot of it comes from my daily life of course but some of them are more general situations I find funny. My rule of thumb is that if something happens to me I think would work I only use it if I think it's something everyone can relate to. I wouldn't have a comic about the travails of being a young cartoonist. That's not Chapel. There's one strip where Chapel is having trouble with plastic wrap.

She's trying to wrap up a cookie and she just can't get the plastic wrap to stick to the cookie. People always have an immediate reaction to it; either bemoaning how tricky it is to use plastic wrap or trying to share their strategy on how to work with it. I've always found that one very funny. I recently got my wisdom teeth out and in the waiting room my dad fainted at the sight of my blood!

So, I took that into a Chapel strip and her dad faints after she gets surgery. Kids my age might have the experience that parents sometimes are the least mature people in a situation. Chapel and I are different in a lot of ways.

There's an entire chapter in volume 1 of the Chapel Chronicles when Chapel gets obsessed with Lady Gaga.

That was more to parody my mom and the obsession some of my friends have as well. A lot of things that happen to Chapel have happened to me but they're things that also happen to pre-teens and teenagers.

Things that people can relate to.

You made a very deliberate choice to have the strip be just about Chapel. Things that happen tend to happen on the outside of the panels. What made you make that decision?

It's interesting, when I first drew Chapel she was alone. If you've ever read Peanuts, you'll know that the adults are never shown just the kid characters. I thought it would be more interesting to show what's inside Chapel's head and just have it be about her. I do want to introduce other characters but right now Chapel has more than enough personality to hold the strip on her own. I know it's an unconventional choice because other comics tend to have a main cast of characters. But, besides Chapel and Rupert (Chapel's pet hedgehog), I obviously don't have any other characters. That's to show Chapel's experiences from her perspective and show what it's like through the eyes of an 11-year-old.

For you, as your artistic ability develops, what do you want to do with Chapel?

I would like to keep Chapel's style simple. My regular drawing style is much more realistic. Chapel has a more

cartoony style like a newspaper cartoon. It's nice for me because it's a relatively quick process compared to a graphic novel style comic. I'd like to do Chapel for at least a couple more years at least until I finish high school. If I have longer, more story-based comics I'd like to do on the side, it won't affect Chapel. It's nice to have Chapel because although each strip takes around 4 or 5 hours, it's relatively simple and that means it's something to flex my artistic muscles every week. It's nice. For example, I do weekly anatomy sketches in order to practice anatomy and life drawings and working on other areas, while at the same time I try to refine the jokes I put into Chapel and the way that I draw her.

After Chapel, where is it you want to go?

I'd really like to put out a perfect-bound book of Chapel.

With the greeting cards, I'd like to keep selling those. With the Chapel book, it'd be a dream to have it picked up by a publisher. Beyond that, I have a graphic novel that I'm developing and lots of other stories that could be turned into comics. I do a lot of writing as well. The genre that I write the most is science fiction/fantasy with a strong emphasis on humor and dialogue. I really enjoy long-form comics.

What comics do you like to read?

Okay, let's see. I really love Hereville by Barry Deutsch. I drew him fan art at one point of time. I think of it as a Miyazaki movie if Miyazaki were Jewish and had Terry Pratchett's sense of humor. That's an amazing book. I also really enjoyed Ghost World by Daniel Clowes. I love Scott McCloud's Making Comics Trilogy. I periodically re-read them and I have a moment of "I must reinvent my comic strategy!" I also read a lot of manga. My favorite is One Piece by Eiichiro Oda. I also love Asterios Polyp by Dave Mazzucchelli. Every time you read it you find something new. That's a reason I also really love Ghost World. I also love Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi and of course Tintin

by Hergé.

Keep up with Emma s work on her website: www.chapelchronicles.com

POST-SHUTTLE DEPRESSION Learning how to cope with the end of the Space Age

By Brendan Nystedt

A

lthough science fiction has always seen further ahead than the technology at the time, technology always seems to catch up. I'm sure Popular Science, on more than one occasion in the 30s, 40s, and 50s, went so far as to predict

regular space travel by the end of the decade. It didn't happen until the 1980s in real life

but it did finally happen. Thanks to NASA's Space Transportation System, astronauts

weren't just a bunch of guys with the right stuff (read: huge testicles) but men and women

of different nationalities, all out to boldly explore in the name of peace and science. The Space Shuttle meant that something as mind-blowing as travel outside of the earth's comfy, protective atmosphere became borderline mundane. Science fiction precedes and fuels science fact. The genre can inspire and enlighten people to make fiction into reality.

Gene Roddenberry (in brown), the real Enterprise and most of the Star Trek Crew (L to R) DeForest Kelley, George Takei, James Doohan, Nichelle Nichols, Leonard Nimoy and Walter Koenig.

In fact, without the inspiration of a certain TV show, NASA's

NASA's STS was developed as a replacement for the crude but

taken off. That might be stretching the truth a bit but because of

Apollo astronauts. Capsules had gotten our astronauts to the

dream of a reusable space launch system may not have even the way Star Trek captured the public's imagination, science fiction became science fact. Star Trek fans are the original nerd herd. They are the first SF fans to have their own convention, the first to cosplay and the first to save their show of choice via a

letter writing campaign. Leveraging the fan base's power, the Star

Trek universe bled through to reality when NASA agreed to name its glider test vehicle Enterprise. Star Trek's creator, Gene Rodenberry, and a few of the original TV's cast were in

effective capsule-based systems used by Mercury, Gemini and moon and back and enabled us to win the space race against the USSR. However, Apollo was inherently wasteful (Titan V rockets

were unusable because they stayed in space) and couldn't carry much cargo (the three men in the command capsule were

shoulder-to-shoulder, living in a space not much bigger than a Fiat 500). The capsules were designed for one use, then discarded after the mission (usually to a museum).

attendance for the christening of the vessel. Although it never

The design of the Space Shuttle seems simple enough on the

voyage beyond the Earth's loving embrace and return home

purposes, launched with 2 booster rockets and an external fuel

made it to space, the Enterprise enabled all its sister ships to safely.

During the 90s, the decade of my childhood, NASA successfully

launched 63 space shuttle missions. The missions ranged from supply runs to the Russian Mir space station, to repairs on the Hubble Space Telescope and all included a smattering of interesting, enlightening experiments and for the first time

included civilian astronauts. The shuttle was also a key part of the

assembly of the International Space Station, the first multinational orbital habitat. All these things happened in their own time, not

according to the schedule pushed by publishers of magazines like

surface level ‒ it's a vehicle designed for a variety of different tank; when the mission is over it glides back to earth and lands on

a runway. Concept proposals detail a vehicle that was like a

Boeing 747 for space travel ‒ requiring only regular pit stops between missions and a fairly low cost to operate. NASA could recoup costs by offering commercial satellite launches to the

private sector. Orbiter turnaround time was estimated to be a matter of two weeks. The payload was so much greater than

previous launch vehicles that the shuttle orbiter could be configured to hold a crew of 7 astronauts as well as additional cargo.

Popular Science. As optimistic as those rags were, science

In reality, the number of systems and redundancy on board the

to envision where mankind could be someday. The STS program

created by mankind. It was way closer to a Federation starship

fiction has always gone ahead of where current technologies were was the someday envisioned in the early 1970s for the rest of the century.

Shuttle made it one of the most complicated machines ever than it was to an Apollo capsule. Concocted using a combination of cutting edge 70's avionics and off-the-shelf technology, the

STS was designed with the bottom line in mind. By all accounts,

the proposals to Congress and the President were overly

ambitious to say the least. Engineers didn't always choose the

F i l m s A b o u t W h e r e We ’ ve B e e n :

best solution to problems. One of the more problematic parts of the design was the silicon tile heat shield on the bottom of the

shuttle. These 31,000 tiles were all custom-fit to their certain location on the underbody of the orbiter and required constant

upkeep. Even a miracle worker like Scotty would have had issues with keeping the Shuttle in tip-top shape.

It's impossible to talk about the shuttle program without bringing

up the failures of said program. When it's all said and done, we

lost 2 out of 5 launch vehicles and a total of 14 people. The men and women who died in the Space Shuttle Program did so

because they believed in science and exploration. They knew the risks and gladly threw caution to the wind to better mankind.

As a kid, I took it for granted that things were just meant to be

this way. Why wouldn't we always have a budget for space?

Images of orange-jumpsuited astronauts fueled my personal dreams. Nothing was impossible given enough willpower and

imagination. Wanting to grow up to be an astronaut wasn't just a laughable childhood fantasy but something which, given the right

circumstances, was possible. It was the closest thing anyone could

come to living on the Enterprise with the (Original or Next Generation) Trek crew and exploring strange new worlds. Who

doesn't want to break out of the stifling hug of earth's gravity from time to time while gazing up at the distant, ancient stars?

But now we're living in a gap-time, in the post space-age. Here, the triumphs of the past radiate brightly, intoxicating us with

nostalgia. Meanwhile, in the present day the future of human spaceflight is more than a bit uncertain.

NASA's working with the private sector to put together a new human launch system under the Commercial Crew Development

program. Orion is a capsule-based system designed by Lockheed Martin on track for manned tests in 2013. SpaceX and Virgin Galactic are planning on offering their own services both to

industry people and tourists. I don't know if it's a sign of the times but how can kids growing up in this early part of the century look up

to

venture

capitalists and

corporations for i n s p i r a t i o n ? Tr u e

heroes are selfless, pushing the envelope

because it's the right

thing to do, not because it might

become a fruitful industry someday. I worry that the lack

of funding for

science and NASA are hurting our future as a bastion of research and risk.

Until America can yet again journey into space, we're

forced to turn to fiction to fuel our dreams.

F i l m s A b o u t W h e r e We C o u l d G o :

5 REASONS WHY

Downton Abbey

Isn’t Just Another British Costume Drama

O

By Ashleigh Hill ne year ago, I received the following text message

up Matthew and Mary. She has her work cut out for her, as Mary

Downton Abbey yet? It s on Netflix. And it. is.

never love him but SPOILER ALERT (to no one s surprise), they

from my best friend, Marissa,

Have you watched

PERFECT.

Now, before you roll your eyes at me, make some sort of typical

basically decides minute two of meeting Matthew that she could

eventually fall in love and spend most of the series annoyingly not saying how they really feel.

woman remark and turn the page, hear me out. Because while

Think this is complicated? This is just the upstairs characters (and

also a show that most of the TV watching world is in love with.

daughters). Downstairs, things are equally as complicated̶

this is certainly a show that I am predictably in love with, this is And why wouldn t they be, it has everything that viewers clamber for̶mystery, intrigue, social climbing, backstabbing, love stories and Maggie Smith. Seriously, what isn t there to love?

For those of you not in the know, Downton Abbey is a British

period drama set in turn of the 20th century England. The story, like Upstairs, Downstairs before it, centers on a great house (called Downton Abbey), the family that lives there (the Earl and Countess of Grantham and their three daughters), and the staff that serves them. Already, there is trouble in the big house̶Lord Grantham s three daughters are unable to inherit his title and estate (and, as it happens, his wife s money) because of

something called an entail (Google it). Instead, everything goes to the next male relative, a cousin named Patrick, who the eldest daughter, Mary, is set to marry (thus insuring her mother s money

remains in the family). Easy enough, right? Wrong. The first episode opens on April 16, 1912, the day after the sinking of the

not even all of them. Remember, there are TWO other unmarried

Carson, the butler, is at the helm of the serving ship, and he has to deal with backstabbing/plotting footmen and lady s maids

(Thomas and O Brien, the show s evil duo), and maids and valets falling in love (Anna and Mr. Bates, who deserve more than a

passing mention for being the show s lovable, chivalrous center), not to mention strange mother/daughter-esque dynamics in the

kitchen (Mrs. Patmore, the head cook, attempts to guide her kitchen assistant, Daisy but mostly ends up blaming her for everything), and a socialist Irish chauffeur(gasp! Branson! Gasp!).

The show s 18 main characters (plus at least 30 other recurring characters) and dozens of story lines are enough to make any viewers head spin, but creator and writer Julian Fellowes (who

wrote, among other things, Gosford Park, for which he won an

Oscar for Best Screenplay), like a well trained circus performer, is

somehow able to keep all of these plates spinning at once without any slowing down or falling by the way side.

Titanic. As it turns out, Cousin Patrick and his father, the two

All of this sounds like something we ve all seen before, ay? True.

ship and have been killed. The next living male heir is a third

anything. So what is it that makes Downton Abbey so intriguing

living heirs to the Grantham family title and fortune, were on the

cousin no one has ever heard of, Matthew Crawley, a lawyer from Manchester, who is quickly invited to Downton to begin being groomed for his new life, much to the chagrin of the family.

Maggie Smith, mother of the Earl of Grantham, and ever the

snarky pot stirrer, spends most of the season simultaneously

making Matthew and his mother uncomfortable and trying to set

It isn t like Julian Fellowes invented a new kind of TV show or and so well loved? Why are people organizing viewing parties and

drinking games on Sunday nights across America? Here are 5 reasons, though there are many, many more.

1. Even though it is set in the early 20th century, it is meant for a modern audience.

Writing for a Miniseries (Maggie Smith also won Best Supporting

grabbing on to, is how un-boring it makes the period seem.

Best Miniseries or Television Film. The show is filmed in part at

modern (thanks, HBO)̶I mean, you can now say shit on cable if

house which has been the home to the Carnarvon family since

procedurals that tell stories about sex crimes. With Downton,

plays an important role, not only setting up the world of Downton

Actress in a Miniseries or Movie). And they aren t the only ones to

What the show does really well, and what I think people are really

take notice̶on January 15th the show won a Golden Globe for

Modern audiences are used to things being racy and, well,

Highclere Castle in Hampshire, a magnificently grand

you air the show after 10pm and there are entire police

1679. As the centerpiece of the entire show, Highclere Castle

we re talking about a time period that was all about decorum and

but providing a beautiful backdrop to the sweeping story.

talking privately if they were unmarried and yet here is a show

4. Even Patton Oswalt thinks it is great

way into the bedrooms of unmarried British women and a gay

We don't suggest that the 'upstairs' people are more important

even the most shocking story lines of the first season are based

a decision that turned out to be right for the zeitgeist now." This

show s creator as well as the fans, which take to the Internet in

with something for everyone, something that is clearly reflected in

Downton is the best thing ever article there is a I can t stand

episode in the US. The second season, which began airing in the

somewhere on the internet). And while the show is certainly stuffy,

episode alone, doubling the ratings for PBS. To put this in context,

emotions and motivations of the characters. Rules are important,

In the UK, where the 2nd season has already aired, episodes

maneuver, and often times break, those rules. What Fellowes has

a LOT of people. And its not just young women and middle aged

boundaries they must work in and then said, have at it.

internet, it does seem that way). There are plenty of men who are

2. MAGGIE MOTHERF*CKIN SMITH

comedian and probably the last person you would ever think

her EGOT comes from winning two Golden Globes. That doesn t

live-tweeting the new episodes with dead-on-balls-accuracy

Violet Crawley, Dowager Countess of Grantham (and Lord

they had that farmer's hat. #DowntonPBS

rules, where it was scandalous for men and women to be seen

that s got young, handsome Turkish gentlemen weaseling their

country

"What makes it popular is we treat all the characters the same.

footman fooling around with Dukes. According to Julian Fellowes,

than the 'downstairs' people," Fellowes told USA Today. "That was

on actual events. Historical accuracy is extremely important to the

choice, along with many others to be sure, has created a show

droves to point out any and all anachronisms (seriously, for every

the ratings. The first season averaged 5 million viewers an

Downton because of how historically wrong it is

blog post

States on January 8, 2012, had 4.2 million viewers for the first

it also has incredible heart, always delving deeper into the

the last season Mad Men averaged 3 million viewers an episode.

but what makes the show interesting is watching the characters

averaged 11 million viewers. That s 18% of the population. That s

done so expertly is given this huge cast of characters the strict

housewives who are watching either (though, reading through the

caught up in the Edwardian drama, most notably Patton Oswalt,

The resident EGOT of the cast (though, to be clear, the G in

would be in love with a British period drama. He has literally been

matter when you ve won, like, two of everything, right?) plays

(recent favorites of mine: Everyone in Mumford and Sons wishes

Grantham s mother), an elegant, whip smart, meddling matriarch

ABBEY ‒ it s STAR TREK for tea drinkers! #DowntonPBS **).

show. The Dowager Countess is extremely opinionated and

5. Guys, did I mention Maggie Smith?

only a Dame could manage. Here, she talks to her eldest and

countless tumblrs, drinking games, and even a Sh*t the Dowager

youngest granddaughters, Mary and Sybil:

Countess Says on YouTube. She s simply the best.

The Dowager Countess: Oh, my dears! Is it really true? I can't

I could go on and on about this show, but the truth is you can t

to a foreigner. It's typical.

wine, turn on Netflix and settle in to watch the first season. You ll

of Downton Abbey, and is possibly the greatest character on the

Maggie Smith plays her with the expert grace and sassiness that

and

DOWNTON

For real, she is all the reason any one needs. She s inspired

believe it. Last night he looked so well! Of course, it would happen

know until you watch. So make some popcorn, grab a glass of

Lady Mary: Don't be ridiculous!

be so very glad you did.

The Dowager Countess: I'm not being ridiculous. No Englishman

would dream of dying in someone else's house, especially someone they didn't even know.

Lady Sybil: Oh, Granny, even the English aren't in control of everything.

The Dowager Countess: Well I hope we're in control of something, if only ourselves.

If nothing else, watching the show every week means getting to watch Maggie Smith exercise her master acting chops. She commands a room like no one else and even when she is being

terrible you can t help but like her. Her viscous, spot on one-liners

certainly keep viewers coming back for more, not to mention the

plethora of purple outfits she pulls off like a champ. If the show

**EDITOR S ADDITION, from a recent email from Brendan:

Smith is certainly a point in the pro column.

Captain Picard s penchant for ordering Tea, Earl Grey, hot from

3. Oh man, is it pretty.

residents of Deep Space Nine, I must insist that, indeed, Star

Just ask the Emmy voters, they awarded the show 6 Emmys last

retroactively, it would read: DOWNTON ABBEY - it s BABYLON 5

didn t have enough going for it already, a heavy hitter like Maggie

...I have to take a certain offense to your last comment. Given

the replicator and the popularity of Tarkalean tea amongst the

Beyond the acting, the writing and production value is top notch.

Trek is Star Trek for tea drinkers.

year, including Best Costumes, Directing, Cinematography, and

for tea drinkers! #DowntonPBS.

If I were to edit your tweet

Backyard Beekeeping W

By Diane Solomon

ho knew that Silicon Vall ey s young techno-geek s wanted honeybees in their backyards? They re and workshops, they re joining the Santa Clara taking classes Valley Beekeepers Guild part of a new national tren and becoming apprentice s, and they re d that s a permutation of the locavore, slow foo ds and DIY movements.

In a world populated by high technology, rarely-s een Facebook friends and innovating the next big countless hours at thei thing, they want the goo r corporate gigs d life. Surprisingly, that means less digital and mor beekeeping s direct enc ounter with nature. Con e of the analog of cerned about Colony Coll environment, they want apse Disorder and its loom to do something to help ing impact on the honeybees while reaping yields in their organic gar the beneďŹ ts of improve dens, homemade honey d fruit and vegetable and a fascinating hobby that workweek. accommodates a long Silic on Valley

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Honeybees were a fixture in Valle y backyards throughout the turn of the last century. The back to nature movement of the

blame.

1970 s inspired hundreds of Valley residents to take up beekeeping. That s when the SCVB G was formed. Their membership thinn ed during the 1980 s when the invasion of new mites and other pests killed their honeybees. In 2006, massive num bers of honeybees in North Ame rica s agricultural fields started dying off, threatening a long list of fruit, vegetable and nut crops which rely on them for pollin ation. Calling it Colony Collapse Disorder, researchers say pathogens, parasites and an indus trial agriculture model that prom otes pesticides and monocropping are to

Gail Reig says that 80% of her students are young high techies.

Reig, a landscape designer and honeybees when she studied bene hair stylist, became mesmerize d by ficial pollinators at Cabrillo Colle ge. Shortly after buying a hous hives. She now teaches beekeepin e five years ago she got her first g classes at Love Apple Farms and at her west San José home and she resource, www.sundayhoneybees.c s started an online om.

In addition to helping the envir onment, Reig thinks techies want bees because they need some thing to ground them and beek offers a total chill out. It s the eeping highest form of meditation , says Reig, because it forces you to about anything else or you ll get be in the moment, you can t think stung. Her Victorian, with its white picket fencing, Bee Crossing looks better kept than the othe sign and lush lavender bushes r houses on her street but a neigh bor s complaint lead to a visit by the and Services Division.

City of San José s Animal Care Reig says given her large back yard it was no problem proving to the animal control officer that ordinance but she believes the she could comply with San José law is too restrictive. s While Santa Clara County s beek eeping ordinance governs its uninc orporated areas, each city has concerns about public safety, most its own regulations. Citing city ordinances require hives to be located far from neighbors, placed so entrances prevent unwa to have water nearby, to be nted beelines and some order would-be beekeepers to obtain adjacent neighbors. By copying written permission from their the County s ordinance and requ iring hives to be at least 300 feet Los Gatos, Campbell, Santa Clara from any public road, the cities and Saratoga are the most restr of ictive, making it almost impossibl bees. e for urban residents to keep

These ordinances don t work for most Silicon Valley homes lot sizes, so a lot of people have to fly under the radar and hope that their

neighbors don t complain , says Reig. I think these ordinances could safely be changed so more people can keep bees legally.

Vanessa Rogier, Conservation Manager, says there were lots of discussions about public safety when she proposed showcasing

honeybees as part of Happy Hollow Park and Zoo s $72 million renovation which added new rides, an education complex, animal hospital,

play areas and four more acres of animal exhibits that now include honeybees and pollinator friendly habitat. Visitors can watch bees work behind a glass-walled observation hive and new pedestrian pathways wind past demonstration hives.

Last year, the Park offered a yearlong beekeeping class that Rogier says was quickly filled to wait listed after its announcement.

Rogier says honeybees aren t dangerous. They re very focused on pollinating and don t care about us walking by , says Rogier. People

may be phobic about beehives, but bees are all around us, they re in our gardens, parks, they re anywhere you see flowering plants. Our

visitors just love the bees and that s exactly our intention, conveying that bees are really cool, they re special and we need to protect and take care of them.

Steve Demkowski is a bodhisattva of beekeeping and Happy Hollow s volunteer beekeeper. His day job is building R&D labs and

production lines for local high tech companies. Demkowski says he got hooked after a swarm landed in his backyard and hovered near his pool.

After a panicky search online for information, he learned swarms weren t dangerous and braved going outside to check them out. Soon

surrounded by tens of thousands of swirling bees he shut his eyes to stem his panic. Then he inhaled their lemony scent, really heard their buzz, felt massaged by the wind generated by their tiny beating wings and suddenly he felt euphoric and at one with nature. From there

he says his life became all about the bees . Steve started out at Franklin Carrier s class and now he s as busy as a bee caring for them all over the Valley. He teaches the class at Happy Hollow and set up their hives. He teaches beekeeping to 4-H youth at nearby History Park, is a Bee Guild swarm rescuer, helps dozens of newbie s with their hives and keeps his own bees in rural Morgan Hill. Each spring he rents them to Central Valley almond growers and uses the profits to support the 4-H group.

If Steve seems driven to help honeybees he says it s because if they die off, so will humans. Bees weren t put on this earth to sting us;

they were put on this earth to pollinate, says Demkowski. People wouldn t exist without honeybees, because there wouldn t be the plants we need to survive̶fruits, vegetables, nuts, you name it , warns Demkowski.

Eric Mussen, a beekeeping expert and researcher at U.C. Davis, says backyard beekeeping won t end Colony Collapse Disorder because city bees are too far from our food supply s Central Valley growing fields to make a difference, but Demkowski disagrees.

I believe our urban areas are the last stand of the bees because unlike industrial agriculture s beekeepers, we have the time to work with

our bees and help them develop into new stronger strains, says Demkowski. It s the urban honeybees that are going to save us.

Diane Solomon produces and hosts a weekly public affairs program on Radio KKUP, 91.5 fm, and writes freelance for Content Magazine, San Jose Beez, Silicon Valley DeBug and Metro, Silicon Valley’s weekly newspaper. She’s also a big time San Jose Bike Partier, Willow Glen neighborhoodie and Silicon Valley wage slave. This article appeared in a different form in Metro Newspaper (May 2011)

AFTER

HOLLYWOOD P

By W. Clay

rologue I am a film instructor at a community college. I like my job for a lot of reasons. Occasionally, my students ask me why I am a

film teacher and not a filmmaker. I would like to answer that question with the following series of mental snapshots detailing the short but intense period of time when I worked in the film industry. Perhaps it will inspire others to do better and try

harder, or even to choose a completely different line of work.

It is October of 2001 and I am kneeling in the warm sand of Stovepipe Wells, Death Valley. My Bolex is purring softly as I execute a slow

pan across the top of a mountainous sand dune. The temperature is rising, but unlikely to reach triple digits. The light is perfect. Life is good - very unlike the last time I was here, back in August, when I still clung desperately to my dreams of success: my shoot was falling apart, I had issues with SAG, my crew was sleeping under the car to escape the sun, the Germans had alerted the park rangers to the office wall I had constructed in the middle of the desert. I m free of that now: I ve moved on.

It is June of 2000 and I am pushing a dumpster closer to our set in downtown L.A. We are filming Rikki the Pig, an indie gangster flick

featuring several B-grade actors including Mario Lopez. I am getting paid $50 a day. I get yelled at for carrying three sandbags at the same time. I almost get to be a prison guard in one scene when the extra proves to be too large for his uniform, but the AD balks at having to pay me an additional $50. A year earlier I was the assistant camera/key grip/gaffer/crew chief back in D.C. We had a beer sponsorship. I

slept on the director s couch. Now, I m nobody. At least the loader has taken pity on me and lets me practice doing dummy loads in the Panavision magazines. The aggressively butch 1st and 2nd ACs are threatened by this and get me banned from the camera truck.

I get switched to day shift so I can run more errands in my car,

He places me under the wing of a burnt out film professor from

Freeway ‒ which means not moving. My lower back starts to hurt,

cubicle are two sex-crazed negative cutters who are renting space

which means spending lots of quality time on the Hollywood which it will continue to do for the rest of my adult life.

It is August of 2000, I m unemployed and kind of glad. I live in Culver City which is about seven miles from the beach. I can drive down to Playa del Ray, surf for an hour, then jog a couple of miles,

Cal Arts who daylights as an optical lineup man. In the next

from the optical house. They spend most of their time conversing

with potential internet girlfriends via the precursor to Skype.

There is a little guy with a beard whose only real duty seems to be cleaning and maintaining the office toilet.

or I can jog, then surf. Sure, I should be looking for work, but my

The professor burns out completely and is replaced by a union-

restaurant on our block where we eat way too often. We alternate

predilection for Russian mail-order brides. I am only getting paid

last job kind of sucked. There is a fantastic Mexican/Salvadoran between there and the Cuban place up on Venice. Culver City is full of great food.

It is April of 2000, and I m driving through Las Vegas on the third day of my trip out to Los Angeles. I m going to live there for three

reasons (in order of importance): my girlfriend is already there, I

have a film degree, and Indiana sucks. I drive past the billboard

scale lineup professional with a thick Brooklyn accent and a $6/hour and I spend most of it eating lunch with the owner s

sons, who perpetually take 2 hour lunches because they are on

salary. The PA quits and his responsibilities fall to me. In addition to lineup, I now have to make all film lab runs. In order to facilitate

this, the owner changes my hours from 10 to 6 to 9 to 5 meaning I now have to leave home 2 hours earlier on account of traffic.

for Siegfried and Roy and make a note to come see them before

When I get back home in the evening, there is no place to park

have a lot of prospects lined up. I know I want to work camera

Sony for the Planet of the Apes shoot. I curse the damn dirty

they are too old to tame tigers. I m kind of apprehensive ‒ I don t

crew and I m competent and have a good work ethic, but what kind of currency is that in Hollywood? I m going to live in Culver City and I don t even know where the fuck that is.

It is September of 2000 and I am working my last professional

because all of the spots on our street have been requisitioned by apes for the next few weeks while I circle the block. One morning

on the way to my car, I see a dwarf in full ape costume (except the mask) eating a ginormous breakfast burrito ‒ almost makes it all worthwhile.

film shoot (although I don t know it yet). On a music video shoot

November. Most days I arrive earlier than anyone who has a key

taught me how to load the Arri 435 magazine. For this shoot I am

becomes evident that my math skills are deficient when I am the

earlier in the month, the 1st AC took me under his wing and the loader, and yeah, I lied about my experience, but this is

Hollywood and I ve learned that everyone lies ‒ it s standard

business practice. They are shooting short ends, which means I m loading and unloading the magazines at a dangerous pace. The

2nd AC opted not to fill out logs to save time (important detail). I don t even know who the music video is for because I m too busy with my hands in the changing bag. The camera crew commends

to the office. I begin arriving later and am reprimanded. It only lineup person remaining. I forget to have a strip of film sent

to the lab for electrostatic cleaning and the optical cameraman (union-scale) is left idle for an entire morning. The owner

physically removes me from the premises and deposits me on the sidewalk outside (the contents of my desk follow soon afterward).

My final paycheck actually makes it to my apartment before I do.

me for my speed and precision. The 1st AC offers to take me

That same day my girlfriend receives notice that Sony is hiring QA

am dispatched to the film lab to drop off the 48 rolls of film I have

the interview. We both get hired. The wage is double what I ve

surfing in Malibu. I m given my payment, a Budweiser tallboy, and personally canned and sealed.

Apparently the 2nd AC neglected to inform me that on one of the

rolls he had given me and instructed me to switch out (for complicated reasons involving color balance) there was one take of a crucially important shot involving backup singers, dancers, a

crane, and water from a firetruck being sprayed artistically. It is a week later and the director of the video, whom I did not meet on

the actual shoot, is now on the phone with me inquiring as the whereabouts of said shot. I look in the back of my SUV. I have him

test the unused cans of film to see if the shot was mistakenly

recanned. The shot is never found. The camera crew is in

agreement that the error was mine. My career as an assistant

testers for its digital department. She offers to take me along to made anywhere else and the job consists of one thing: watching movies. The office is also about six blocks from our apartment

and across the street from Culver studios. Each day we are given three movies to watch along with a checklist to fill out in case

there are imperfections in the video that might cause annoyance

to consumer viewers. Most of the movies are the kind that you might have heard of at one point and wondered how or why they

fell through the cracks. After watching them, the reasons for their

obscurity become readily apparent. If a movie fails due to multiple imperfections in video quality, it goes back to the encoders for a reboot. Then it comes back and the person who failed it has to watch it again. Most movies pass the first time.

cameraman is over.

The ultimate design by Sony is to make these highly-compressed

By the end of October of 2000, I have covered every camera

is even remotely interested in doing this. It is January of 2001,

rental house in the greater Los Angeles area. Apparently this is the only career move for washed-out camera crewmen who have

screwed up as badly as I have. I cross over from Burbank to

movies available over then internet. They are the only studio that and 90% of humanity is still using dial-up. This will prove to be a problem.

Glendale and stop at one of the optical printing houses to test my

I ride my bike to work. I am nearly run over by a woman in an

for optical printing, and hires me on the spot. Things are looking

not notice me in the crosswalk. She notices neither my flailing

luck. Strangely, the owner takes a liking to me and my enthusiasm up again.

enormous SUV who is busy talking on her cell phone and does

hands nor my bicycle under the front bumper. My bike seat is the only fatality. My girlfriend has moved on to Sony Family to work in

the animation department. I now sit by a 350 lb. ex-con who

While I sleep, actors and locations connive to make themselves

frequent smoke breaks. To escape this, I usually eat lunch at the

actor is fine, but the paperwork and insurance money are not). My

consumes large tubs of pungent chicken concoctions between Hare Krishna Temple a few blocks away. They serve the best and

cheapest Indian vegetarian food in the universe. Lunch hour often lasts much longer than an hour.

One of the encoders falls off a retaining wall during lunch and

breaks his ankle in 5 places. There is a lull in the frequency of movies. I use my work computer to compose an entire album of

electronic music. A QA tester is tapped to fill the vacancy temporarily (at no increase in pay) and the flow of movies

unavailable. The SAG actor proves to be too much trouble (the producer promises to fix everything in return for the role of the

principal villain in the film. I give it to him, and he delivers on his promise. The shoot continues, though by the midpoint, I realize I am making the B-Movie version of the masterpiece I originally

envisioned. At the final location (a church) I shoot two scenes simultaneously while holding at bay the pastor s wife, who wants

to kick us out so she can hurry to the emergency room where her son has been taken with a football injury.

resumes. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon lands on my desk.

September arrives, my footage has been processed and

images of moving bamboo proves to be incredibly difficult for the

look at it. We have until the 10th of the month to pack up, clean

Over the next few months I will watch it 14 times. Compressing

technology of the time. I begin to contemplate my next career

move. I start writing a script with the working title of

transferred to tape, but I m too busy preparing for the move to up and hit the road.

Mannschaft!

The morning of September 11th arrives for us at 6 AM when the

The script proves to be difficult ‒ it is my first narrative and the

York City. My fiancée and I have a sort of War of the Worlds

learning curve is steep and the process slow. I completely revamp, rewrite, and remove 30 odd pages from the original ‒ and create

Holiday from the ashes. It has flaws, but it makes sense (sort of).

I begin planning the shoot, casting, building and buying

equipment. It will be my first post-film school film and I will have

only my own resources to call upon. The age of desktop video has arrived.

alarm clock begins broadcasting the horrors unfolding in New moment as we struggle to believe what we are hearing. The rest

of the morning we mop and scrub the apartment to this surreal soundtrack. Around noon, we climb into the U-haul and head for Oakland. Our time in Los Angeles has ended.

Epilogue There were no jobs in Oakland, save for my wife s opportunity to

I ask for time off from work to make the film. I ask my girlfriend to

work at Pixar, which actually would have paid less than

soon as the film has wrapped. I quit my job. My manager asks me

equipment to help pay the rent and worked a few freelance video

Backstage West, hold auditions, cast a SAG actor. I fly in some

industry went down with the rest of the economy post-9/11.

a replica of his character s office and strap it onto the roof of my

any urgency (I didn t finish it until Summer of 2003). My wife went

marry me. We agree to leave Los Angeles and move up north as

unemployment (for 13 hr days). I sold off most of my film

to reconsider. Pre-production kicks into high gear. I put an add in

jobs I found on Craigslist. For the most part, the Bay Area film

friends from film school to help me out. The lead actor and I build

Occasionally I worked on editing and scoring my film, but not with

SUV. That night, we all head for Death Valley.

back to school to earn another masters degree. In April of 2002, I

By this time I have already spent four or five thousand dollars on

on a porch filled with other out-of-work, down-on-their-luck

the sun of Stovepipe Wells it all hits me. The sun comes up too

the West Valley gig opened up. That whole period after Hollywood

The lead actor and I do six takes. The rangers arrive. We claim

satisfying of my adult life. The only thing I really miss is the food.

interviewed for a job at a new public access station in Gilroy, sat

the shoot and slept an average of 2 hours a night. In the sand and

filmmakers hoping for the same opportunity. I worked there until

fast. The set goes up too slowly. The cameraman has passed out.

was (and continues to be) the most professionally and artistically

ignorance of anything and everything and break down the set. We race through the rest of the desert scenes (cutting anything we can) and limp back to the car and then back down the road. I am

so exhausted that I can t think straight. I sleep for two straight days.

W. Clay is a college instructor who occasionally attempts to teach. In his leisure time he enjoys watching dark crime dramas with his wife, drinking snobby microbrews, playing violent team sports, pretending to play musical instruments, and confusing his daughters by using too many weird words.

Glossary of Terms:

Bolex ‒ A Swiss 16mm film camera, built like a tank and capable of shooting anything, anywhere (it uses a windup mechanism).

SAG ‒ Screen Actors Guild. The actor s union. If you are an amateur filmmaker, you want nothing to do with them.

AD ‒ Assistant Director, the person who keeps a film shoot going, must be abrasive and willing to make everyone hate him/her.

AC ‒ Assistant Camera, takes care of the camera, attaches and removes all accessories, pulls focus, loads film.

Magazine ‒ The compartment that film is loaded into before being threaded into the camera. Must be loaded in complete darkness, usually a black bag or miniature tent with armholes.

Optical Printing ‒ The technique used to superimpose titles and images over existing film footage. The two or more rolls of film are re-photographed by another camera. Largely replaced by digital compositing.

Lineup ‒ The mathematical layout of an optical job, individual frames are counted for each roll that will be used, with notes for color balance. The cameraman shoots blind, using only the numbers on the lineup sheet to guide him.

PA ‒ Production Assistant, the lowest position on a film crew, or working in a post-production house.

QA ‒ Quality Assurance, how digital material is screened prior to release.

ALASKA!

By Elizabeth Behrens

I

cannot claim to be a true Alaskan. I am not native to this

So, here you are - A little more state information than all those

how to hunt caribou or fillet a salmon with an ulu knife. My

along with, a lot more of one unsuspecting Californian s insight

great land, nor was I even born in this state. I do not know

mail is not delivered by a propeller plane. I have never

experienced twenty-four hours of daylight or twenty-four hours of

tourism websites, travel books and visitor s blogs will give you; into it all.

darkness, although off days have found me complaining bitterly

Because life in Alaska is such a unique and uncommon

Alaskan footwear for boating, hiking, work, and even nights out on

as a rich and vibrant piece of both Alaska native and non-native

about both. I do not even own a pair of Xtra Tuff boots; standard the town. However, I have had the opportunity to live in the state

of Alaska for the past two years, as well as the privilege to engage in a great deal of travel and exploration. From these adventures, I have found myself experiencing life in a way that I never imagined.

I apologize if you find my detail boring, redundant or unnecessary.

My intention is not to offend, but rather to enlighten. After moving to Alaska, I found that I unknowingly relocated to a state that I knew virtually nothing about. I believe this is partially due to the fact that it is hard to accurately depict a state that is so

immense, far and foreign in relation to its Lower 48 counterparts.

What information one is able to get their hands on is often limited, partial, or all together wrong. Throw that in with the remote,

private lifestyle that is characteristic of many Alaskans, along with the limited (or inaccurate) portrayal of the Alaskan lifestyle by the tourism and reality television industry and you ve got yourself one

mysterious state. And you know what? Us Alaskans like it that way.

experience, one comes to recognize the importance of storytelling

culture. The valuable role that storytelling has held as a significant

piece of the human experience is certainly not a new concept.

Just as Aboriginal Indigenous Australians sketched elaborate

depictions into the walls of their rock cave dwellings, contemporary civilization too has their own epic story to share.

The art of storytelling has certainly evolved over time. The advent of the printed word, radio, and television to the computer,

Internet, and cell phones have progressively changed the method of storytelling. Gatherings of family members and neighbors congregated to exchange personal and cultural narratives has evolved to a much more abstract means of expressing and conveying thoughts, opinions, experiences and happenings

through various technological avenues. Perhaps it is Alaska s differences, oftentimes inaccessible and remote, that have better preserved this tradition in its oral roots and maintained its everyday relevance. Alaskans love to share stories.

As an individual who has always been anti-mornings, I have altered

my work schedule to arrive earlier than the majority of my co-

workers. This allows me the opportunity to get at least an hours worth of productive work accomplished before my colleagues

begin to trickle in and I find myself moving past morning hellos

geographic diversity, Alaskans as a whole are more similar than

long, engaging tales of winters spent trapping north of the Arctic

reside.

and quick exchanges about road conditions and the weather to

Circle and eating sticks of butter to stay warm. This can account

different, for they are bonded by the unique place in which they

for at least an hour of one s day, maybe more. The stories you

I thrive on the ability to travel. There is a freedom that exists in

rocks, dog mushers breaking through river ice in negative seventy

moments you are steering down the highway in an automobile,

unknowingly loosing frozen fingers ‒ these are all occurrences

a pack strapped to your back, those moments are weightless.

hear in Alaska are like none other ‒ polar bears mistaken for

the space that lies in between the pieces of our lives. The

degree weather, exploring inhabited bear dens for fun,

soaring through the air in a plane, trudging across the tundra with

that can become part of an Alaskan s typical day.

There is nothing else that can be done and nowhere else to go; one is forced to appreciate the beauty of the present. Eventually, reality finds us and with sadness we are forced to acknowledge its

fleeting existence. Only then, we are greeted by our destination and the sorrow subsides as we discover a whole new spectrum of possibilities and opportunities. Through both work and personal

exploration, I have had the privilege of experiencing a great deal

of this awe-inspiring state. While I have encountered much, this only comprises a small fraction of what Alaska truly has to offer.

Travel in Alaska can be difficult, challenging and even dangerous at times. The Alaska road system covers a very small portion of

the state. One can enter the state by vehicle via Canada by way of the Alaska Highway. From there options become limited. More or less, one can drive north to Prudhoe Bay (although the majority of

this road is unpaved and impassable by most vehicles for most of the year) and south through the cities of Fairbanks, Anchorage,

and onto the Kenai Peninsula. One can explore sections of

Southcentral Alaska by traveling various small paved and unpaved roads. However, the entire western and southeastern portions of

the state are not accessible by road at all. To access the southeast, one must travel by ferry, boat or plane. To visit the

west, one is limited by air travel only. In fact, one cannot drive to Life in Alaska is different. And, not to further expand the divide

Alaska s state capitol, Juneau, at all. This has spurred many futile

have not lived and traveled around this great state, it is difficult to

Alaska s cities, towns and villages are categorized is by their

an effort to try and bridge many of the misunderstandings and

many benefits, for it can even help classify one s ruggedness. You

someone somewhere decided to superimpose the state of Alaska

and worthy inhabitant of this great, wild space. For this reason

immense size and diversity of the United States 49th state.

population of about 292,000 (about half of Alaska s overall

that Alaska s most southwestern and remote portions, the

which are Fake-rage and Los Anchor-es . All puns aside, a

most eastern edge, the Southeast, extends to Jacksonville,

Anchorage and the majority of rural Alaska s native villages.

third largest state. And, with an average population density of 1.1

One of my greatest fortunes since moving to the state of Alaska

remote, untouched, wild space it is.

through the community development division of a non-profit

Because Alaska is so diverse, it is a land of extremes. From

the benefit of visiting the communities in which with I work. This is

of daylight at summer solstice, from rugged and untouched

communities are remote and off the road system , travel is

rural, remote native village communities to mainstream, western

infrequently direct and requires the incorporation of any, or all, of

native Eskimo woman living a subsistence lifestyle north of the

plane (prop, ski or float), ferry, skiff or boat. For an individual to

the non-native, third generation commercial fisherman who lives

Anchorage, a distance of about 600 miles, can take up to a week

as the business banker relocated from Minnesota who lives in the

schedule. And in all, it costs around $1,000, making travel out of

that exists between Alaska and the Lower 48, but for those who

debates about its relocation. This being said, one of the ways

explain how it truly is, in many ways, the last frontier. I m sure in

location as either off or on the road system. This is a division with

misconceptions that exist in regards to the state of Alaska,

see, even Alaskans have criteria for what it means to be a true

atop a map of the Lower 48 to more accurately portray the

Anchorage, my home, Alaska s largest city with a bustling

Alaska is huge. To look at the superimposed image, one can see

population, mind you), has developed many nicknames, among

Aleutian Islands, reach to San Francisco, California. The states

massive discrepancy resides between the metropolitan city of

Florida. Even if you cut Alaska in half, Texas would still only be the persons per square mile, it is easy to recognize Alaska as the vast,

has been the opportunity to travel through my work. Employed

agency that serves mostly rural Alaskan communities, I often have

twenty-four hours of darkness in the winter to twenty-four hours

a phenomenal and rare privilege. Given the majority of these

mountain peaks to the hustle and bustle of city life, and from

difficult and expensive. Accessing these small communities is

cultural centers, Alaskans know not what it means to be typical. A

the following forms of transportation: vehicle, snowmobile, ATV,

Arctic Circle in the remote village of Kivalina is just as Alaskan as

travel from an island in the southeast to the South-central city of

on the Southeast island of Port Protection, who is just as Alaskan

due to limited flight availability, weather conditions and the ferry

interior city of Fairbanks. Every Alaskan has their own distinctive

one s community a tedious and oftentimes rare opportunity.

story to tell. And, while Alaska is a vast space full of cultural and

Because these communities are small and isolated, and often lack

States is about 11.5 cents per kilowatt-hour, the average rate of

sometimes unwelcome. As such, the majority of individuals who

(before Power Cost Equalization (PCE), a subsidy that can lower a

hotels and restaurants, foreign visitors are uncommon, and

grow up and reside in Alaska s larger towns and cities infrequently receive the opportunity to visit rural Alaska, let alone out-of-state visitors.

The majority of Alaska s remote communities are inhabited by

Alaskan natives. As a randomly displaced Californian, I of course cannot even begin to claim to be an expert on native culture. The

state of Alaska is home to 229 federally recognized tribes and 22 native languages. As such, it is easy to discern that there is no real standard Alaska village community. For me to even begin to

depict what life in rural Alaska is like, I would first need to begin with a 200 year history lesson that I am not qualified to give. The

best I can offer is a a picture of my personal experience, feelings, and observations based upon what it is like to travel in rural Alaska as a guest.

But honestly, to accurately paint that picture is difficult, perhaps

even impossible. Complicated and dynamic historical events have culminated to create present day village life. And this culmination

has manifested in innumerable ways. Prevalent challenges such as suicide, domestic violence and alcoholism are interwoven with the

presence of community growth, cultural preservation, resourcefulness, strength and resilience. Village communities are small and close. There does not exist a divide between family, friends and work. Multiple generations frequently live together under one roof. One goes to school with, works with, socializes

with, and lives with the same small community comprised of siblings, cousins, grandparents and close family friends from birth through adulthood. Relations can be complicated to the outsider,

for they oftentimes extend beyond biological relatedness. For

electricity in rural Alaska runs closer to 70 cents per kilowatt-hour percentage of one s monthly electricity bill to somewhere around 20 cents/kilowatt hour). Homes are heated in a variety of ways,

often based upon the resources of the region in which they

preside. For example, it is much more common to find wood burning stoves in the forested regions of the southeast than it is in the treeless tundra of the southwest. Toyo stoves are becoming

an increasingly more popular way for rural Alaskans, across the state, to heat their homes. However, the heating oil used to fuel these stoves can run a family an additional $200 - $400 a month,

or more. And, when one lives in an arctic environment where winter accounts for over half of the year, heat is essential for survival.

Traditionally, native Alaskans were a nomadic people, following the

seasons and living off the abundance of the land. While a subsistence lifestyle through hunting, fishing and gathering is still a common practice and traditional knowledge and wisdom is still widely respected and used, native communities have become

greatly influenced by western culture in the last fifty plus years.

Many of the major events and changes that have occurred in village communities have happened within the last several

generations. Electricity, running water, computers, the Internet and cell phones are all recent additions in comparison to the

onset of these progressions in the Lower 48. Honey buckets (a

bucket that one uses to go to the bathroom and then must empty) instead of toilets are still common in many communities, especially those that do not have running water. It is this newness,

I believe, that fuels many of the challenges faced by rural Alaskans.

example, the term Auntie does not necessarily mean the sibling

of one s biological parent. Everyone and everything is connected.

There is little sense of privacy and autonomy. For many in the Lower 48, this may seem foreign, or even unbearable. However,

one quickly learns that understanding Alaska requires a great deal of perspective.

Given their small size, village communities do not offer the same

services and amenities that the majority of Americans are accustomed to having access to on a daily basis. You cannot find hair and nail salons, movie theaters, sports bars or malls in rural

Alaska. Jobs and resource are scarce and the cost of living is high. Because the majority of village communities are off the road

system, everything needs to be transported by air (or sent on a barge during the limited summer months). This not only severely

inflates prices, but also limits the quantity, quality and availability of goods. Most communities receive daily flight deliveries for mail,

groceries, and supplies. However, some communities only receive deliveries a few times a week. Further, when a significant storm blows in, a community can quickly become isolated, unreachable

by plane for days, or even weeks. On a recent trip to Kivalina, I purchased three (rather gnarly looking) carrots, a loaf of generic white sandwich bread, and a box of Special K cereal for a total of $24. However you look at it, comforts of living that have come to be standard in the Lower 48 can appear to be novelties, or all

together foreign, in rural Alaska. Even transportation differs, with

In many cases, native communities watched their lives become

Cars are rare in most communities. To keep these vehicles going,

say that many of the changes that have occurred in village

While the average residential rate of electricity in the United

certainly, it takes time to find balance between the old and new.

the preferred mode being the 4-wheeler, snow machine, and boat.

altered suddenly, drastically, and with little control. This is not to

gas runs up to about $8 a gallon. The expenses do not stop there.

communities are bad, or that they were all unwelcom. But

This is the place in which many village communities find

selfish; it can take and mangle and drain. Nature is whole,

alternative energy, community gardening, cultural preservation,

easily than any other state, invites you to be a part of this

themselves today. Exciting new initiatives such as harnessing

composting, recycling and green cleaning are taking place as

communities are discovering for themselves the best ways to

complete and perfect, complex only in its simplicity. Alaska, more inspiration.

celebrate traditional knowledge and culture while incorporating

I did not grow up knowing that I loved the outdoors. Nature was

strong, vibrant communities.

recognize the perfection of our natural world amidst the cement

modern technology and influence to create and sustain healthy,

To an outsider, it might seem silly or pointless to continue to live in such a remote environment under such difficult conditions at such a high cost when other options are available. However, while

certainly not devoid of very real challenges and struggles, village life can be peaceful and simple in a way that many in the Lower

48 have forgotten is possible. Removed from the hustle and

bustle of contemporary western culture, and with reduced access to media, consumerism, and societal pressures, one is able to turn their attention to other practices, such as family, friends,

community, cultural activities, and nature. And so, just as the New York city slicker may struggle to envision what life in rural Alaska

is like and how it could possibly be accomplished, let alone a preference, so too the rural Alaskan wonders about the chaos, noise, exhaustion and immensity of city life.

All preferences aside, Alaska has the ability to awaken a childlike awe and splendor that one allows to become dormant, buried by a

fast-paced life packed with social demands, adult responsibilities, work-filled days, over consumption in material goods, and under nourishment for our soul. I have found myself standing atop many

an isolated, rocky Alaskan peak looking out at the endless, vast

open space that lies before me, unmarked by the human hand ‒ no telephone lines, cell phone towers, roads, litter or even the sight of other people. While difficult to articulate, those moments

leave me feeling both magnificently great and equally insignificant.

I am filled with and humbled by the power, greatness and beauty of our natural, untouched world. Unfortunately, society can be

not an obvious part of my childhood. I did not know how to

sidewalks, overpopulation and smog-filled air of the Bay Area city

in which I grew up. Camping was something I played with the neighborhood kids using a few pieces of sidewalk chalk for

inspiration. It was not until I was an adult that I ventured out on my first camping trip, and even then it was more an inexpensive means of lodging than an opportunity to appreciate nature.

Perhaps I was always fated to fulfill my destiny by exploring the great outdoors by relocating to Alaska, or perhaps I fulfilled a destiny of exploring the great outdoors because I moved to

Alaska. Who knows? The simple fact remains that while there are

many challenges to living in Alaska, the accessibility to outdoor recreation is unrivaled.

Summer is by far Alaska s most experienced season by those visiting from the Lower 48. As breakup takes hold, the days become longer and snow begins to melt making way for endless

green landscapes, towering gray peaks, and glacial blue lakes and rivers. Then, the tourists begin to arrive. By train, by ferry, by

cruise ship, by airplane - they flood the state of Alaska. The highways become filled with massive coach buses shuttling

sightseers from one wild experience to the next. I had never seen a cruise ship before moving to Alaska. Standing at the port in

Ketchikan, I gazed in amazement at four boats all docked in a row with the Coastal Range as their backdrop. I remember thinking the massive row of vessels looked more like little worlds, with their

rock climbing walls, JumboTrons and swimming pools, rather than

boats. Those cruise liners succeeded in dwarfing the mountainous landscape of Alaska in a way that I never before imagined

possible. Yet Alaskans cannot really be upset with the hoards of

deprivation, it is in the fall, when I first begin to recognize the light

inspiration -‒ with tourism comes money, certainly a significant

twenty-four hours of light for months, the setting sun suddenly

people who come yearly to receive their own little piece of its

reduction, that I can sense my mood altering. After living in nearly

resource for Alaska.

feels bizarre and unfamiliar. I remember driving away from a

Yet, as a tourist, it can be difficult to find a true Alaskan in the

down the highway, I felt peculiarly nervous and anxious. After a

the summer tourism industry are temporarily relocated from the

dark in over three months time. People often inquire as to how

destination sites, Alaskans head for the backcountry mountains,

humans are impressively resilient. You just become accustomed to

unique motivation that can only result from nearly eight months of

Alaskans are tired of the cold and dark and the Lower 48 is

an opportunity for adventure and exploration. Even living in

snow on the ground. It is about this time that I begin to get

friend s house my very first fall in Alaska. As I was making my way

summer months (considering many of the individuals who work

reflective moment, I realized it was because I had not driven in the

Lower 48). As sightseers begin to arrive in Alaska s most popular

Alaskans cope with the extra light gain and reduction. The truth is,

rivers and lakes. With nearly twenty-four hours of daylight, and a

it. This is how change comes to be a challenge. In April, when

winter, cold and darkness, every work-night and every weekend is

beginning to speak about sunshine and warmth, Alaska still has

Alaska s largest city, remote and secluded backcountry Alaska is

anxious once again in anticipation for the coming summer.

relationship with coffee. This is not a preference, passing trend, or

Perhaps surprisingly, winter is my favorite season in Alaska. Snow

Because Alaskans can boast a lively, active, continuous summer,

progresses and the tourists leave the state, snow begins to

my backyard. For this reason, Alaskans have a significant morning ritual, it is a habit arising from a deep and serious need.

has a magical way of making everything beautiful. As fall

one can find themselves in hyper-drive, operating on long days

blanket Alaska s peaks once again. In Alaska, this is referred to as

and darkness. Then, as the cold and darkness returns, one s

welcome the sight of the range s first dustings. The winter season

and little sleep in an effort to break free from the months of cold

termination dust . While ominous in name, most Alaskans

dependence on coffee only becomes all the more necessary.

brings with it a unique and welcomed serenity and peacefulness.

Just as Alaska is extreme in its nature and composition, it too is

ready to hibernate. And, while it is true that the pace of life slows

of magnifying emotions. Oftentimes referred to as Seasonal

mountaineering, ice skating, snowshoeing, ice fishing, hunting,

downright crazy. As an individual who grew up in sunny, warm

keep any Alaskan active throughout the long winter months

was not prepared (even after living in frozen North Dakota), for

Unlike the many who have dreamt of making their great escape up

quantities of darkness and isolation affect everyone differently, I

unplanned events led me to this great state. I cannot claim that I

balance. Like an emotional roller coaster, life either seems mind

where my life travels take me in the future, I will always hold within

between.

evokes adventure, awe, and gratitude. While I cannot claim to be a

While it might be assumed that the most difficult months in Alaska

shall never lose.

After several months of quick-paced summer fun, Alaskans are

extreme in how it affects its inhabitants. Alaska has a unique way

during winter, there is still plenty to do. Cross country skiing,

Affective Disorder (SAD), life in Alaska can make you feel

trapping, sledding and dog mushing are more than enough to

California with an annoyingly optimistic and cheery disposition, I

the way in which living in Alaska could affect my mood. While mass

north, to the fewer who do, a series of unanticipated and

find I am most affected by my inability to find and maintain

will be an Alaskan for life; I probably will not. However, no matter

blowingly high and perfect or tragically low, never a stable in-

me a piece of Alaska s inspiration, for it is a unique inspiration that

true Alaskan, life in Alaska has changed me in a way in which I

to endure surround winter solstice, the darkest day of the year, I find that I am most affected surrounding seasonal changes.

Exhausted from a continuous summer of activity and sleep

Elizabeth Behrens was born and raised in San Jose, California. After graduating with a degree in Social Work from Humboldt State University in 2008, she relocated to North Dakota for 365 days of AmeriCorps national volunteer service. Leaving North Dakota’s notoriously frigid winter weather behind, she and a close friend loaded up a Pontiac Firebird in –10 degrees and set off for 2 months of winter camping, hiking, backpacking and exploring our country’s beautiful National Park system.

In need of employment to regenerate funds after months of frolicking, Elizabeth decided to drive north and make the great state of Alaska home. Closing in on two years, only the Alaskan mountains, tundra and accessibility to vast outdoor recreation have been able to squelch her desire to wander. Temporarily stagnant, Elizabeth works in Anchorage as a Program Coordination at a Community Action Program, coordinating environmental projects in rural Alaska. With remote, backcountry Alaska as her backyard, Elizabeth spends her free time exploring the outdoors while preparing for a wilderness expedition in Gates of the Arctic National Park. One day, Elizabeth dreams of kicking her desk job in exchange for homesteading.

T

H

E

By Brendan Nystedt

K

EY BO A R D W IT H A C U L

T

T

he transaction was arranged via email, like so many

The distinct clicking and clacking adds a certain amount of drama

of these kinds of exchanges of goods. I walked

to writing. Whereas your average laptop emits about as much

under the pools of mercury vapor light to my

noise as a cockroach scuttling across the floor, the Model M is a

been waiting. Let's call the man Frank. The dimly lit parking lot

another. Although it's not as loud as a mechanical or electric

echoed the sound from the highway sharply, the drone of

typewriter, it makes writing feel like a real accomplishment. The

mean streets of suburban Silicon Valley are the right place for

screen is expressed in the real world for all within earshot to

deals like this to go down. The trunk of Frank's car was cracked

experience. The cacophonous din says, "I'm working. Fuck off!"

He was a slight man of Asian descent, friendly and very

Given how much of any given person's time is spent on a

knowledgable about what I was there to buy.

computer, it's shocking to me that so few people care about the

rendezvous point. The man I was there to meet had

commuters bouncing off the sparsely populated Best Buy. The

open just a little bit signifying that he had the items in question.

What was I purchasing? Drugs? Tech industry secrets? Bootleg

thunderous sound like so many dominoes falling against one

flurry of excitement in your head as the words pour out onto the

quality of their input devices. Truly premium keyboards are few and far between. Most keyboards are designed with the cost of

sex tapes? For someone in my trade, it was way better than any

components being the first considered and the second being user

of these things. I was buying the keyboard. Not a keyboard. The

comfort and experience. In this era of haphazard, error-filled

keyboard. The IBM Model M.

touchscreen keyboards user comfort, accuracy and feedback are ideas that seem lost.

This keyboard isn't just a keyboard. For its owners, it's a way of life. It's the only way for them to get things done and done

I suppose that s what it comes down to these days. Mass market

properly. I asked Frank about his experience with the Model M. He

keyboards, for my money, provide a significantly inferior

admitted to owning six of the things. I said, "So, you're a part of

experience. Sure, their advent may mean that workplaces around

the cult, huh?" He nodded. Once you use one of these beastly

the world have become quieter. But there s something joyful

keyboards devices, there's no turning back.

about creating a racket while brining words to life. Writing is an art which has become more important in the information age. All

The IBM Model M was developed in the early 1980s. Back then,

those blogs and news sites out there don t just generate content

time. It was a company still run by those with clear memories of

internet every day come from the fingers of writers from every

their corporate songbooks ( Ever onward, IBM! ), strict uniform

continent and all walks of life. They re righting wrongs, spreading

ties). Their business was making machines to run your business. It

information, bringing down governments and creating amazing

was their sworn duty to create great things for the better of the

works of literature.

IBM was serious about creating products which would last a long

policies (sock suspenders, blue pinstriped suits, wingtip shoes and

company.

on their own, after all. The millions of words being shared on the

vile gossip, bringing laughter and sadness, disseminating

Capote wrote with a pencil in one hand, a glass of brandy in the

IBM s PC division wanted to conquer the world and in order to

other. Thomas Wolfe uses a typewriter still. Stephen Sondheim

cater to businesses, they needed a keyboard which would be

uses Palomino Blackwing pencils on legal pads. My weapon of

difference between this keyboard and the kinds of keyboards on

tried on the Nikes and the tracksuits and I m now a part of the

the market today is that this keyboard uses mechanical switches

only cult for a computer keyboard.

comfortable for new users and seasoned typists alike. The

to give tactile feedback. Keyboards today use a squishy

membrane which disrupts a circuit when depressed. This keyboard uses something called a buckling spring which emits a satisfying click as the key goes all the way down. The outside is

made from simple, beige plastic. Inside, everything is anchored to a thick piece IBM kept the keyboard in production in one form or another until the late 1990s. Model Ms were manufactured in the US, Scotland and Mexico at various times in its lifespan. The keyboard I purchased out of the back of a car was manufactured here in the United States in February of 1994. Since being discontinued, the Model M has made a comeback on the internet through both the reselling of legit IBM-produced models and a new run of keyboards made by a company which has purchased the rights to

continue production. They sell the brand new, 21st-century manufactured keyboards for a bit under $100. I was able to buy

my great condition Model M for $40. A small price to pay for entry into a very exclusive club.

choice is now the IBM Model M. I have tasted the Kool-Aid, I have

Tough Enough: The gear I’d want to get me through the end of

By Spencer Sands days, or even just everyday

I

was born with an amazing gift. In this sense, I am very

my consumerist philosophy is a simple truism: "You get what you

much like Superman or one of the X-Men. From the time

pay for". It has been my experience time and time again that if it

of my birth, I have been blessed (though truly, more often

sounds to good to be true, it almost always is. The awesome

break anything. Anything. Give me enough time, and, by the grace

on my third shot. For the love of god, just spend the money and

of god, I will find and exploit its fatal flaw until it is so much

get the good one! I will always chose to pay for the better product

than not, it feels like a curse) with the uncanny ability to

useless scrap in my hands. I should be the most employable man

hand-made longbow I got off of eBay for like a hunsky? Snapped

(hopefully, the product that will last) than buy something again.

in the country, every manufacturing firm in the nation needs me for quality control. To compound my ability to break anything, I

My commitment to stuff that is indestructible stems from nothing

should break for any reason, I cut off all ties with travel mugs for

has let me to believe that, at any second, we could find ourselves

life. So help me god, travel mugs are dead to me (true story).

living in a post-apocalyptic hell-scape. Any minute now. Don't

also hate repurchasing items. If I buy, say, a travel mug, and it

Living with this super-power and my childish refusal to re-buy, my

short of a puerile, borderline moronic delusion. Popular culture

believe me? Just watch Terminator

1 - Salvation and try to

deny the inevitability. Robots are going to kill the majority of

shopping habits have had to adapt. I read reviews for everything.

humanity and, so help me god, when I survive (and believe me, I

Literally everything (read: actually every single thing). From

will, I am like a cockroach) I will not be ill-equipped. I am

customer reviews are my best friend (sorry, Brendan). I need to

with amazingly well-constructed tools. That's just how it's going to

know that what I buy will last, in spite of my "gift". At the core of

be. Seriously, though, when the apocalypse comes, where the hell

flashlights to shoes to watches to toasters, Amazon.com's

humanity's only hope and I will rebuild our once proud civilization

am I going to get awesome gear? Amazon will probably be out of

my area) or a coven of vampires (not real). With these threats of

business, so I'll just have to get it now.

varying levels of reality in mind, I always carry a knife when I m out

With all this clever consuming experience behind me compounded

in nature. Actually, the real reason for the knife is the raw utility of such a device. My knife has helped me solve outdoor problems

by my ever present fear of having to single handedly fend of an

more times than I can count. When I needed a new one, I shopped

arm of killer robots in a bombed out city, I have, over the course

with this simple maxim in mind: if it s good enough for a Navy

items that absolutely meet all of my stupid requirements. The

Bar and it really is an awesome tool. It holds an edge, is awesome

following list is by no means complete but it represents a pleasant

for chopping and is epoxy coated to prevent rust. I rarely venture

of the last few years, found myself in the possession of a few

cross section of well build goods.

Seal, it s probably good enough for me. My go to knife is my Ka-

too far out into the wilderness without it. I am of the belief that if I asked it to, it could probably build me a log cabin.

First up is my Stanley Vacuum Thermos. It is like the Holy Grail to me insofar as it hold liquids and will almost certainly be around

I sometimes wish I was a lady. Don t read to far into that

exactly what it claims to: it hold liquid and it keep it at the same

could get away with it, carry a purse. If you have lots of awesome

temperature all day. It is without hyperbole that I recount the

gear (and cherry chap-stick), it stands to reason that you would

hour of 6:30 in the morning and fill it with sweet, life-giving coffee,

I turn to daily. First up is my Timbuk2 messenger bag. I love it. It

the coffee remains at that same temperature until I get home in

is tough as shit and also it has pretty colors, which is very

legendary in blue collar circles. Tales of these things being

have to maximizes the ones we have. I bought my Timbuk2 with

running over by garbage trucks or falling off roofs only to survive,

grad school in mind, and after nearly 2 years of merciless lugging,

liquids fully intact and warm, can be found on any review site. I

throwing and dragging about, the bag still looks great. It has

adventure with my dad.

segregation. Wait, that came out wrong. The strap is comfortable

long after I'm dead. I adore this blessed vessel because it does

following anecdote to you: when I leave to teach at the ungodly

the late afternoon and finally finish drinking it. This device is

know that personally, my love stems from early morning

Up next, all good adventurers need pants. Did you know that most

statement. Seriously though, I think that most guys would, if they

need a place to store it. In lieu of said purse, I have to options that

important to me. Men don t get many fashion accessories, so we

pockets, and lots of them, which is good because I am all about (I shelled out for the additional padding) and I don t feel fatigued even after a long day with it on. The material is what really makes

people wear pants every single day? Honest injun. When I need

it, though. The bag is constructed of rip-proof nylon and it is

pants that don't suck (that is to say rip, tear, split at the seems or

wonderfully tough. Sincerely, the weakest link in the bag s

Treeclimber dungarees. They are tough as hell and I leave the

sticking out where they should not be. Secondly, for trips too big

house feeling like everything from my waist down may as well be

for a messenger bag, I have a French paratroopers backpack. It is

bulletproof. Well, maybe not bulletproof but, at the very least,

a wonderful hiking accessory because of how thoughtfully placed

junk. Which is important, trust me. They are not the most stylish

shoulder-straps and a very plush belt for your waist. What I love

trousers ever sown, but they are certainly more aesthetically

most about it is how much variation there is in its size. It straps

feel like a totally slob wearing them out into the quote-unquote

hold much, much more. Conservatively, I estimate that your could

civilized world (though I would argue that you all are the real

easily fit a full sized adult human s corpse in it, no problem.

otherwise fail) I turn to my trusty, shit-brown pair of Arborwear

highly resistant to a medium sized animal trying to gnaw off my

pleasing that many of the other work pants on the market. I don't

animals).

construction is the stitching; I have more than a couple of threads

the padding on it is. It has great lumbar support, beautifully soft

down to the size of your average backpack but can expand to

Now, like all philosophies, there is always going to be something Every hero needs a steed, and mine is an unimaginably

that bites your perfect logic in the ass. I present the following

trustworthy 2000 Honda Civic EX two door with a five speed

cautionary tale not to disprove my previous points, but to

most absurdly hardworking and downright reliable car ever built.

expensive. Thank god for Craigslist. After years of surfing on a

I m sure of it. I ve met all the other cars and it is simply the best.

board I would describe as equal parts well-loved and not-sea-

for over seven years. I still have not made that call! I have spent

surfed it twice and decided to sell it. His loss was seemingly my

some money on it, but it wasn t due to breakdowns. After a

gain. The board has been a lot of fun to ride, but it is also about

timing belt, distributor cap, plugs, wires and a rotor. It is not a

out that I don t end up applying some kind of patch to it. It is very

fancy car, or a luxurious car, or even an aesthetically perfect car,

thinly glassed (that is to say, the layer of fiber glass surrounding

but god help me if it doesn t just run.

the foam core is very thin) and I have been told by experts who ve

I suppose I like stomping around in the woods a little more than

keep the board light weight. Well, it is light, but I would gladly risk

the average person. I simply love being where there is no cell

some extra weight if it could just be a little more resistant to

complicated by my persistent fear of being gored to death by a

of time (not to mention money for all the fiberglass patch kits) on.

mountain lion (native to my area), a pack of wolves (not native to

Go figure. Careful shopping can only take you so far.

manual transmission. At just over 200,000 miles, it has been the

Case in point, I have been looking for an excuse to call Cartalk

hundred thousand miles, what car wouldn t be in need of a new

reception. This enthusiasm for woodland areas is somewhat

exemplify the exception: I like to surf, but surfboards are

worthy , I found a young man who had bought a beautiful board,

the most fragile surfboard ever built. There is scarcely a time I go

been kind enough to listen to my complaints that this is done to

damage. I paid a lot of money for a board that I have spent a ton

Chasing the Dorado: Exploring the Sea of Cortez A Travelogue

By Bri Bruce

A

ugust 6

The first day of a journey is like slipping away from a crowded room. The feelings are always the same: freedom, anxiousness, uncertainty, excitement.

The weeks leading up to this trip have made me restless and eager to explore, to go where others have not, feeling the pull of the earth to places I am wanting to see, taken by the idea of exploring the Sea of Cortez.

We ve set out for the Gulf of California, to spend our time exploring various uninhabited islands, diving and fishing their coasts. *** Heading south on Highway 5, winding through the mountains beyond Gilroy and then father, along the San Louis Reservoir, ever dreaming of deserts, the perfect blue of the Pacific, and east, the Sea of Cortez.

August 7

Morning, crossing the border. A man named Jesus authorizes my papers, giving directions in English. Making our way into Tijuana, the sight is

familiar: trash in the gutters and roadside ditches, iron bars over the windows of brightly-colored, box-like tenements, men leaning against the old

border fence, the new gray barricade looming on the reaches of the city, ominously set apart. To the west, the Coronado Islands hang in the mist.

Beyond the gutted houses along the Mex 1D Highway, the Pacific seems unlike the one I am familiar with.

August 8

Stayed in a motel last night called Mama Espinoza s in El Rosario. In the morning I woke to the sounds of Mexican chickadees in the bougainvillea vine outside, motorists on the small highway, the shuffle of bed sheets and bare feet on sandy cement floor from my father and stepmother.

We spent most of yesterday driving, with only a few stops: Tijuana for immigration, Ensenada for foodstuffs at a large market, and tacos at a busy roadside vendor in San Quintin.

The bustle in the cities makes me uneasy. Our convoy, complete with truck, camper and boat, demands stares from everyone we pass.

Once south of San Quintin, we followed a dirt road that led to a small, rocky beach, where we parked to enjoy the late afternoon sun, collecting seashells on a short walk, no sound but the crashing of waves, the wind in the desert. *** By midday, we passed the Rock Garden and the Rock Pile, two names we ve given landmarks in the expanse of otherwise empty landscape south of El Rosario. Bumping through stretches of desert on washboard roads, heat waves rise between monoliths of Cordon cacti and crooked Joshua trees flowering yellow in some sort of bloom. We stopped on the crest of a large basin to take a few pictures.

Early afternoon we arrived at Ghost Harbor, an expensive marina project that had recently failed after government developers gave up battling

the drifting sand at Santa Rosalillita. We drove through the settlement past the harbor on a dirt road between pastel-colored, dilapidated houses, their wash left out to dry and flutter in the ocean wind on a clothesline. Several dogs and a group of children were playing in the sand at the

the fishing in the small bay beyond the harbor is good, the surf high in the winter. Ramon and the small children on the beach waved to us as we drove away, continuing south toward Laguna Manuel.

*** Laguna Manuel is a flat, wide beach nearly 200 yards long. At high tide the water fills a lagoon inlet that runs parallel to the east of the beach.

There are fishing pongas lined up along its southern tip at the mouth of the lagoon, and at the opposite end we have parked the truck and boat between several low sand dunes. Nearby are two abandoned buildings, likely once part of a fishing outpost. Except for three small houses on a far hillside to the north, we are alone on the beach.

August 9 We woke shortly after dawn to try the fishing in the bay at Laguna Manuel. To our surprise, we caught nothing.

More and more my thoughts have turned to the Dorado, a fish I have only heard stories about, mostly from my father in his years of experience fishing along the Baja coastline. Having spent a lot of my childhood learning to fish in Baja, I ve never caught a Dorado...

Continuing to our destination: Bahia de Los Angeles.

August 10

The deep blue of the Sea of Cortez. Cobalt sea bridging gaps between sand dunes and crags of red rock. We crest a low hill to see the azure of the ocean and, after miles of bleak, parched desert, it is like waking from a nightmare. I can spot the glint of corrugated tin roofs, white

ramshackle walls of houses and mercados under hot Baja California Norte sun, Bahia de Los Angeles, the Bay of Angels, white-capped in late

afternoon. Isla la Guardia rises from the sea in the distance, so large as to be mistaken for mainland. We turn east and wind down into Bahia de Los Angeles, a small town located halfway down the Baja peninsula along the shores of the Sea of Cortez that until only recently did not have

electricity. I d passed through some years before, on the way to San Rafael Beach to the south, a sprawling, unpopulated beach only accessible by way of rudimentary dirt roads through nearly 50 miles of desert.

But here, in Bahia, the infrastructure is more or less advanced for a small Baja fishing town, with paved roads, several modest hotels,

restaurants, and markets. We make our way through the sparse town, past on-looking locals leaning in shop front doorways, children walking barefoot along the roadside, and low-lying rock walls and brightly painted signs to Guillermo s, a small restaurant and market with a crude launch ramp on the beach before it. We take the boat out to rinse off the dust from the desert roads.

Trolling out of the bay, we pull our lines slowly along the western shore of Isla Piojo, listening to my father tell stories about fishing the same waters I was now exploring for myself. The Sea of Cortez, at the mouth of Bahia de Los Angeles, is surrounded by blue mountains drawn

around the bay like thick curtains. The outer bay is a mosaic of red desert islands, blue ocean and green shoreline, without a single boat in sight.

*** Alongside Isla Coronado, I caught my first glimpse of the Dorado, a fish that has always eluded me. It wasn t a leap from the water or a flick of the dorsal fin breaking the surface that caught my attention, but the impossible, unmistakable blues and iridescent greens and golds of the

dolphinfish beneath the surface that trapped my eye. I saw a sudden burst of color dart by the port side of the boat, and in a flash it was gone.

After casting in the direction in which the fish had vanished, the line came up empty. Several more tries proved no avail.

August 11

In the midst of adventure. The three of us and the sea.

Losing track of the days. I ve become adjusted to the change of ways: rising with the sun, falling again into sleep beneath the white moon and a blanket of stars; the water, the call of seabirds, strange dreams in the night brought on by the heat.

Often feeling alone, feeling how small I am in the world, in so much desert and sea, no people. So much space, so much quiet, the sound of wind and waves drowning out all else.

Walking an open beach, my footprints the first to imprint the sand and probably the only ones for some time to come. *** I write by lamp light in a cove at Punta Alacron, Scorpion Point. The moon has risen. I wonder if this is the time of year the turtles come ashore to lay their eggs.

We re alone on a small stretch of sand. I am reminded of being a child at San Rafael Beach, sleeping in the sand again, the only sounds the drone of waves, and the ever-present silence of the desert.

August 12

Woke early to desert heat.

We spent the day out among the islands, chasing a small pod of whales, spotted a hammerhead shark from the boat. We fished, landing

ladyfish, sand bass, barracuda, and triggerfish, and later stopped to dive along the shoreline of Isla la Pata. In the afternoon, we motored to Don Juan Cove and dove for clams in the sandy, shallow waters.

Making our way into the southernmost part of Bahia de Los Angeles, we trolled through several large schools of flying fish, darting every which way at our advance, skimming along the surface in escape. When we reached the southern shore, we pulled the lines from the water and

motored slowly, searching the dimpled ocean surface. Here, we spent the rest of the afternoon swimming with los tiburones ballenas ‒ whale sharks.

This experience sharing the sea with such behemoth creatures, feeling and witnessing their breadth and power gliding so effortlessly through

the water and up close, watching them watch me, looking into their eyes is one of the most exciting and beautiful things. I ve never seen or felt

anything like it: swimming as fast as I can, struggling to keep up with the sharks, whose caudal fins are nearly as tall as me, their total size larger than our 25-foot Zodiac. They were feeding on krill and plankton, their dark fins protruding the surface, water rushing through their gills,

lampreys at their jaws, a school of minnows in their shadows. At the base of the dorsal fin of several sharks was a deep, pink scar, no doubt the result of a boat s propeller.

After some time, we let them be and continued on our way, our hearts beating in our chests like drums, still buzzing from the experience. *** Gibbous moon over Sea of Cortez, now black in the night.

Desert wind spinning through cordon, a gull, yet to roost, calls from the sand.

August 13

First night at Punta Alacron passed with little sleep. All night I tracked the path of the moon through the sky, waiting for morning, haunted by dreams of scorpions crawling into my sleeping bag in the middle of the night.

We ventured to Las Animas today and farther south, catching fish, diving at several reefs. We chased a pod of long-beaked common dolphins, my heartbeat rising with the sight of so many of them, at least two hundred, riding our bow and stern wake. We anchored off the shore of a small, rocky island and swam with sea lions and fished from the boat. We caught yellowtail and triggerfish and dove for scallops around the island.

Now we re sitting around a fire, eating our catch by firelight, our skin salty, bones tired, recounting our memories of the day.

August 14

I ve been awakened before the dawn by rain, and ensuing sand beetles in search of water. I m watching the sky slowly grow lighter, from gray to yellow to pink and white. In the west sky, a rainbow appears above the mountains, now lavender in the early light. A pair of black oystercatchers pace the beach at low tide, their calls mixing with the sound of waves working upon the shore.

We unanchored the boat after sunrise and drank coffee by a campfire. *** The warm waters draw the Dorado, attracted by not only the temperatures of the gulf, but by floating debris and scum. In turn, this is what we also sought.

With a sudden jerk of the fishing pole and a sharp zing from the line being pulled from the reel, I knew what I had caught. My second glimpse of the Dorado: at the end of my line some 25 yards beyond the stern of the boat, leaping, twisting from the water. Uninhibited excitement at the pull on the fishing rod clasped in my fists, let alone the sight of the fish jumping, lure in mouth.

As a child, my father told stories of landing Dorado larger than me and would show me pictures of the biggest fish I had ever seen, describing to me what it was like to catch one. Now, I understood.

For almost twenty minutes I fought the fish struggling to get away at the end of my line. Every time I was able to reel the fish near the boat, he would quickly pull the line again, diving deep, away from the boat. After several tries, I finally brought it up along the boat s pontoon, the fish exhausted and my arms aching, while my father brought the fish aboard.

There s something to be said about the way the Dorado dies: gasping for air on the deck of the boat, a trickle of blood staining the floorboard.

We d come all this way to see this fish, catch this elusive fish, and now here he was before me, taking his last breaths, no doubt longing for the sea, the way in which I longed to catch him. When the Dorado dies, his colors fade. The brilliant shades of gold and indigo inexplicably turning brown, the life and color draining quickly.

August 16

Bahia at night: there are lights now. We load the boat onto the trailer at Guillermo s. Tying down the motor, I notice a man alone at a table

beneath a palapa at the restaurant. He stares at us. I pet a dog named Blackie wandering the launch. A blonde girl approaches the man and asks for a cigarette. Leaving Guillermo s, the town feels softer, gentler, now masked in the darkness, shifting into an easiness -- two girls

walking along the main road shake water from their hair, wet from a sunset swim; a woman waves at us from the front stoop of a mercado; a man with his head in his hands sits at Hamacha s Bar; a group of fisherman in baseball caps and short-sleeved shirts eat at a roadside

restaurant with a neon sign lit up in the night. Beyond, the black, black desert. A man sits in a chair in his front yard looking up at the stars, the Milky Way a thick cloud stretching across the sky.

*** The moon is rising again over a still Sea of Cortez, the air in an unusual hush as birds retreat to roost, the tide ebbs away, islands remaining

trapped a deep blue in the twilight. At the edge of town, where we are staying for the night, my father asks me to point out constellations in

the sky. I could find the two dippers, Scorpio, and Cassiopeia, the familiar rest muddled by the brightness of so many stars. To the south, the lighthouse blinks. I can hear whales surfacing for air in the bay.

We are leaving tomorrow, heading north to

El Rosario before sun down, going back the way we came.

August 17

Long desert road north.

I catch sight of the pale moon now and

again in the daytime, falling beyond dust-

colored mountains, thinking of the Dorado and of home.

Bri Bruce is a recent graduate of the University of California at Santa Cruz where she studied post-modern literature and creative writing, earning a B a c h e l o r o f A r t s d e g r e e . B r u c e is currently a freelance writer and amateur photographer living and working in Santa Cruz, California. Her work, both poetry and photography, has appeared in Celebrate!, Chinquapin Magazine, Tattoo H i g h w a y , A m p e r s a n d , R e d F e z Entertainment and Matchbox Magazine.

Bruce lives in the Santa Cruz Mountains.

Yo u can read her blog: www.blbrucephotography.wordpress.com

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It’s Goodbye For Now

“P

by Coby Zeifman ass me a beer, would ya? said David, sitting in

remained now were two men in their late twenties, with

his foldable rocking chair. He took the empty

nothing but the shared stories of older friends. Their

microbrew bottle out of the chair s cup holder

memories swirled through the branches of the ancient

and placed it on the ground with other three empties.

Tony reached from his lawn chair to the red plastic cooler.

Grabbing two bottles, he tossed one over the campfire onto

shadowed fir trees, twirling like drunken ghosts.

You keep in touch with Bret? asked David, eyes on the fire.

The flames bounced off his designer glasses.

David s lap. He opened his beer with a Bic lighter he bought at the gas station on the way down.

Tony flicked his bottle cap, saying I think he s still teaching English in Korea.

They camped once a summer at Siskiyou in Southern Oregon since they had met through friends of friends sophomore year in college. The camping trips were bigger back then. All that

Oh yeah? David drank his beer. I should tell that jackass he needs to come back, at least for the camping trip.

with a waste of breath. Yet, as there appeared to be a slow Yeah, he s been gone forever.

David reached into his jeans pocket and took out his smart

rift, David held on. David believed in Tony then.

Looking up

from the fire, he watched Tony flick another bottle cap into the fire. David still believed in Tony.

phone. The unnatural blue light illuminated David s face as he punched his thumbs on the device. Tony sighed and felt the

Tony was the kind of friend who would keep you in check and

small hunk of tree bark and dug in the gravel. Fucking

a dick. The last time Tony came down to visit David in San

Californians. It had taken almost six years, but David had

Francisco they, and a small group of Tony s work friends met

dark side.

But one lucky interview, turned into one lucky

Tony, spilling a splash of Shiraz onto his jeans. David hollered

paycheck. Which turned into one lucky loft. Which soon

a weight-related insult across the bar much to the amusement

turned into lucky organic grocery store receipts and lucky

and the laughter of his work friends. While laughing and

of the equation for years now.

Tony, not smiling, told him he was an asshole, and went to

ground around his well-worn tennis shoes. He excavated a

finally become one. David always denied he would go to the

cocktails at bourgeois fusion restaurants. Luck had been out

David put the device back into his pocket. Last time he was here he was dating that architect right? asked David.

I think that was the year before, said Tony, throwing the hunk of bark into the fire. The year before that, was that girl he just met.

at a wine bar. A heavier fifty-something woman bumped into

receiving pats on the shoulder, David looked towards Tony. close out his tab. Turning to his hooting work friends, David bought another round. David stared at the dwindling fire. Tony was a good enough friend to be honest with him. To shame him.

I m gonna to take a leak and head to bed, said Tony. He walked to his tent to get his flashlight.

David took a final swig of his bottle. Oh yeah, whatever her name was.

would call you out. Be a good person. Do nice things. Don t be

I suppose it s that time, said David.

He placed empty bottle number four on the

ground. It s too bad Daphne couldn t come this year.

-

Tony polished off his beer. She s just doing some last minute

Tony closed the trunk of his car and looked at the bare

packing. Opening the cooler, he grabbed two more longnecks,

campground in the morning light. David, sitting on his car,

It s mostly the big stuff now. The fire cracked and sent a trail

walked over to Tony.

and tossed one to David. We got most everything in boxes.

finished a banana and threw it in the woods. He got up and

of embers into the inky black night sky.

You think you guys are gonna like Michigan? asked David.

Well, there s buncha shit I gotta help Daphne pack,

Tony.

said

He lifted his head to look up at Tony.

Tony bobbed his head. I think so. She s excited about the post-doc program.

That s awesome, David stated. Cheers. They opened their

Have a good time, said David. And I guess, goodbye.

It s not goodbye. It s a goodbye for now, said Tony. He half smiled as he put his hands in jeans pockets.

beers, clinked their bottles and sipped in silence with the

Yeah, said David. I suppose it is. He sighed heavily and

occasional pop and spit of the campfire. Do you know what

shifted his weight. Of course we ll keep in touch. The words

you re gonna do up there?

hung over them.

Probably find some kinda job. I m not sure yet, said Tony. He took a gulp of beer. You know me. I ll land on my feet.

Yeah,

said David, looking at the dark woods over Tony s

shoulder. The fact was that David no longer did know Tony.

Not this Tony. He remembered the reckless and rambunctious

You re my brother.

You re my brother too, said Tony. The two forced smiles and hugged.

They got into their respective vehicles, said goodbye again, and each drove homeward.

Tony from years past. The one he dropped off at the Emergency Room with a shattered forearm and a broken longboard. The one he would drop acid with and go to IMAX documentaries. The one he confided in about the abortion.

Not so much later, Tony and Daphne moved in together.

Scarface posters were replaced with framed re-printings of

Parisian advertisements. Dollar-beer Wednesdays at Sully s moved from not this week to the point where even asking

My name is Coby Zeifman. I am from Seattle. I graduated from the University of Oregon. While in Eugene, OR I acquired a lifelong love of biking and continued my love of live music. I play bass guitar and I love the shit out of nature. I'm currently in school to become a teacher.

T

Checkout Counter he flash from Kira s camera reflected off the windshield into Brendon s eyes. Between the glare of oncoming vehicular brights, the setting sun and the long hours, Brendon was becoming noticeably

By Fordy Shoor

How many do we have left? Brendon turned to her.

Fifteen out of twenty.

worn. He rubbed his swollen eyes with his thumb

and forefinger, hanging his head down during a long stretch in the road.

Kiki, you said you wouldn t bring the camera. This is our vacation,

remember?

After a moment of reassurance, she bent over and began to rustle through the purse at her feet.

Didn t you just...

Yeah, Kira slipped in, But now I just want to have one. Lifting

Kira switched the setting on the camera so as to view her last

the pack from a side pocket, she flipped the top and plucked two

picture. A whitewashed photo appeared to her outlining the broken

out from the row. She offered one to Brendon who reached over

cooling breath and released it slowly over the course of ten

side of hers. Kira smiled at him before lighting both of their

seconds.

cigarettes. She ran her fingers along the tips of the filters, the

rows of cylinders within a pack of cigarettes. She sucked in a

I

to her. As he grabbed it, he rubbed the tip of his finger along the

once densely packed rows growing thinner with each smoke.

just wanted to get some pictures of the weather in this area. Try

Taking another extended breath, she looked down to her camera

to convince everybody it s still California.

She let out a brief,

before laying her head back and pulling at her cigarette. She

The concept of a legitimate escape seemed to the couple a distant

Brendon kept his eyes on the road, periodically shifting his gaze to

one; however, a fifth anniversary seemed like an opportune

his static wife, noticing the crook in her back as she stretched out

library was time-consuming, but no more so than the managing of

gravitating down to the patch of skin above her waistband. His

her own day-to-day life. Living under the preconception of

blood rushed downward in a subtle shiver, comforting him in the

exploding chuckle.

chance. Kira s job managing the checkout counter at the public

constant impending disorder proved an exhausting lifestyle to Kira.

closed her lids and saw the washed out photo in her minds eye.

in her seat. He saw her eyes were closed and he found himself

notion that she could still have this effect on him.

Upon her return from work, every cigarette was accounted for, every door latch was secured, every faucet handle was squeezed

A rhythmic flapping sounded out below the undercarriage and

all Brendon could do to get Kira in the car. As added incentive,

out from the middle of his windshield. An effect on me, indeed,

Brendon bought his wife her own digital camera. He had his own

he thought to himself. He swerved in a fluid motion to keep from

but he assumed that physical photographs might just help her to

rousing Kira. She was finally relaxed enough to close her eyes. If it

both knew how immensely difficult the vacation would prove to be

he would have been sure she was asleep.

tight and on until bedtime. Even after she agreed to the trip, it was

make sure

her surroundings were secured to her liking. They

from the moment they d turned the key in the ignition hours before.

Brendon looked to the road to notice solid yellow lines stretching

wasn t for her arm moving to reconnect the cigarette to her lips,

His arms began to pivot as they clutched the steering wheel, shifting in time to match the immeasurable turns in the road. They

After a moment of ensuing silence, Kira turned back to her lap to make sure she had turned off the camera.

had done the long drive up Highway 1 twice before but he was always the person to drive. Kira s nerves couldn t handle all the

turns, especially mere feet away from a cliff. He knew if she were

to drive, the very thought would plague her mind so thoroughly that she would be able to concentrate on little else. Kira rolled

We could watch a cartoon? Or have warm milk? Or have a small

down the window and flicked the cigarette butt out the small

snack?

she ran her fingers through her long brown hair and reinstated her

Ian looked down into his lap, took a deep breath and looked up into

leisurely position.

his fathers eyes with a desperate plea in his own.

crack. She rolled it up once, then back down, then up again before

What little light left in the early evening diffused through the fog, spreading faintly yet evenly across a monochromatic sky. The glow of his headlights was quickly replacing the light of the sun. Keeping

Can I sleep with you and Mommy tonight?

Brendon sighed and paused before continuing.

his eye on the reflectors in the center of the road, Brandon noticed the sheen of his lights on the slick road. A memory instantly overlaid itself in his mind. He was standing in a

doorframe, noticing a similar sheen atop a bed, the light spilling in from the hall onto the slick sheet. His young son was sitting on the edge of the bed, silhouetted as his stubby, four-year-old toes

Oh boy...you know how light a sleeper mommy is... he raised his gaze and was instantly paralyzed by the look on his son s face.

Okay, Ian, but just tonight.

dangled off the edge. Brendon could see his toes balling up in the

He stood up and offered his hand to his now elated young boy. Ian

light.

clutched his large palm and hopped off the wet sheets. They

Is everything okay?

Yeah... Ian sucked up a bit of mucus back into his nose, I m okay.

trotted out the door into the hall. Brendon motioned for him to wait at the threshold of their bedroom door.

Brendon walked to the bed and leaned into his wife s ear, noticing her eyes already open.

You sure? Brendon knotted the soft belt of his robe as he walked over to his son, Because you sounded like you were crying pretty hard there, buddy.

Honey, it happened again. He s scared to death and he wants to sleep with us tonight.

Her jaw tensed slightly before she began to speak.

I wasn t crying Daddy.

It s alright, Ian. Everybody cries.

Not big boys.

Even big boys.

Brendon crouched down with a soft pop of his knees.

Um...okay, she responded in a low sleep infused voice, did you put the sheets in the wash?

No, but I m about to.

For an instant, her tired eyes widened in a micro-expression of unease before she relaxed her muscles and smiled up at Brendon.

Good...because you know if you leave them out overnight it

I was trying to stop, Daddy, but I couldn t.

Don t worry, buddy. Just let it out, as long as it takes. Then we can try to fix the problem.

Can we fix it tonight?

might...

I ve got it under control, honey. He s waiting at the door. Do you mind if he comes in now?

Her smile widened as she nodded lazily and turned over. Brendon motioned for his son to come in and Ian waddled over and hopped

Not all tonight. Over time, yeah we can...we can work on

fixing it. It takes patience.

up onto their bed, nestling up against his mother. Kira reached her hand behind her and rubbed her son s ear. Brendon went back to his son s room and peeled the cold sheets off the bed, bundling

Brendon wiped the mucus and streaming tears from his son s face with the sleeve of his robe. He smiled slightly in the light,

them up into a dense ball. He walked to the laundry room and placed the sheets into the washing machine.

faced with yet another parental explanation. He wished himself a childrens

book writer, envying their seamless ability to distill

complex concepts down to economic language.

When he opened their door, he noticed Ian was asleep. He saw the mound outlining his wife s body heaving sighs in quick succession.

He walked to her side of the bed and bent down.

What can we do to help you sleep tonight?

Ian started rubbing his cuticles and looked up overtly in thought.

Brendon noticed the child s breathing was still shallow and quick.

He decided to lead the brainstorm.

Are you going to be okay, Kiki?

Yes.

Are you sure?

Hey, you never know right? she broke a moment of silence.

Yes, just stop asking. I ll be fine, okay, Bren?

He nodded silently before walking back to his side and slipping underneath the sheets. Not fifteen minutes later, he felt Kira get

Sounds like a born manager talking, he said as he unfastened his seat belt and opened the door.

out of bed and walk downstairs to the laundry room to check. He

Popping the trunk, Brendon walked to the back of the car and

remembered closing his eyes thinking to himself, repeating three

grabbed their luggage and some groceries. Kira sat inside fiddling

words before he drifted off: We can try.

with the door lock. As he closed the trunk with his elbow, Brandon saw another flash from the camera.

The familiar flapping of the center reflectors underneath his left tire redirected Brendon s attention to the road. After a hair point

When they walked through the doorway of the house, Brendon

turn, Brendon flicked on the radio with his index finger. A raggedy

flicked on the lights to see a familiar view of the inside, the room

static, singing out in barely audible words:

grabbed the groceries from underneath Brendon s arm and laid

acoustic guitar plodded through the pervasive fuzz of the radio

Where are you going, I don t mind...

At a straight shot in the road, he snuck a peak of the famously expansive Pacific Ocean. Living in Visalia for so long, he had

easily recognizable from the photos he s been studying. Kira them on the counter. Her hands were trembling as she began to unload the brown bags.

Brendon came up from behind her and locked his arms around her waist. He placed his chin on her right shoulder.

almost forgotten what a truly meditative experience the coast can offer. At the same time, it was all oddly familiar to him. One of his larger clients was a time-share rental company who had hired him to touch up photos of beachfront properties. Over the course of the past month, he had been modifying views of jagged cliffs and serene waves. After several meticulous hours, he began to see

movement in the waves within the still images. When the company

How re you doing, kid? he asked after a moment.

I ll be okay. The door locks are key locks and not bolts and the island is a little too wide but...I ll be fine.

Okay. Remember what Dr. Klein said?

offered him a free weekend at one of their properties in Anchor Bay, he jumped at the opportunity. Now that he was close, it was a

strange feeling to finally see motion in the waves and foliage, a

Yeah, yeah. I remember. She sighed and bit her lip, turning her

head to him slightly. This will be good for us. I can feel it.

concept he found oddly humorous.

Yeah, he stretched to kiss her on the lips, tell me what it is he ...So we will share this road we walk... And mind our mouths and

beware our talk...Strangers on this road we are on...We are not two, we are one.

As they pulled into the driveway, the light had long since shifted to the opposite hemisphere of the world, leaving their headlights as one of the sole sources. Brendon blew in Kira s ear and she woke up swatting lazily at the side of her head.

said.

She kissed him back and took a deep breath before releasing it, the word coming out as a sigh.

Adaptation. She licked the top of his lip playfully before turning around. So, we don t get any reception up here, do we?

A

small rush of adrenaline dripped into Brendon s stomach as he Did we get here okay?

Yep.

found himself caught in his own lie.

No, no reception but there s a land line. We can call your mother from it and she can read the number to us. Don t worry.

No problems?

None whatsoever. We re in the clear. He smiled reassuringly and she chuckled with a permeating yawn.

You didn t get a call from work, did you? Thursdays I do inventory

She pivoted between his arms to face him. She looked up at him with a stern yet diplomatic gaze.

I

see that now but why did you tell me they called when they didn t?

Why did you have to lie?

for all the book returns and they might need my help.

He looked down at their cell phone, noticing that they had no

I didn t want you to...I wanted to be sure there was another option before I told you.

reception.

Yeah, they called earlier, while you were sleeping. They re doing fine, Brendon lied. He told himself that he d check to see if there was a land-line inside before telling her about the reception.

Brendon,

her voice was faltering with annoyance before she

reverted her tone,

You don t need to do that. I appreciate it

but...really, I can deal with it.

Kira broke from his arms after a heartening pinch to his belly.

Brendon reached his hand out to cup her buttock. No, it s there in

Walking over to her camera briskly, she was sure she had left it on.

the bag.

in nature. In order to make sure the camera was off, she d need

Kira walked over to the bag and proceeded to take out the

another camera for assurance to photograph the first one. But

garments and line them up in a row. She reached the jewel case

camera was in fact turned off. And if only one of them ran out of

to take out all the socks.

She checked to see it was off. Brendon s gift was nice but flawed

then she d need to buy a third camera to make sure the second batteries, she d be screwed. The immensity of her own logic hit her

like a backdraft before she snapped down to grab their overnight

that read My Bloody Valentine and took it out as she proceeded

Kiki, Brendon called.

bag.

She immediately dropped the socks and walked over to the CD I m going to go get comfortable. Can you call my mom for me?

player, opening and closing the garish psychedelic cover five times

Absolutely. Go do your thing.

guitars resounded through the room as she replaced the

Brendon made a quick call to his mother in law. After he hung up,

before taking out the CD and placing it in the spindle. Swirling

concerned look on her face with a mischievous smile. She kneeled

onto the bed, placing each leg on either side of Brendon as she

he noticed that Kira had left her camera on the marble counter. He

straddled him. She bent down to kiss him, her sharp brown hair

walked over to the groceries and finished unloading them. One

tickling his eyelids as their lips met. Looking up, Brendon could tell

of cigarettes, two steaks, two fillets of fish, one sack of rice, one

pillow behind his head.

carton of milk, one carton of eggs, one bottle of wine, two packs

her attention had been redirected as she began to rearrange the

pint of ice cream, two hearts of lettuce and exactly three bananas.

Once finished, he uncorked the bottle of red wine and poured two glasses.

He grabbed her face and kissed her, both of them moaning with passion. Kira began to unbuckle his pants as their lips remained

locked and proceeded to re-zip and unzip his pants three times Walking to the bedroom, he saw flickering lights and walked to the

before the two worked at wrestling them off. Despite the fact

dancing shadows across the wall. He realized that, for once, they

welcomed the unexpected if not rehearsed affection. Kira slid down

may have been considering the same thing.

his torso and grabbed his bare thighs with both of her hands.

open door of the bedroom to see the flames of candles projecting

Brendon, is that you? Don t come in yet! he heard Kira exclaim

these exact motions had been replicated countless times, Brendon

Brendon grabbed her shoulders and she tensed up.

Hey, sweetie, this time can I try going down on you?

from within the room.

Okay. He shifted the glasses to one hand and brushed a long

She looked up at him with wildly flaring eyes and a look that pleaded with him.

blonde follicle of hair back from his face.

Alright, she murmured, you can come in.

Pushing the door open with the toe of his shoe, he saw her from behind lighting a candle by the nightstand, dressed in a short silk

I don t know, Bren. This is such a new place to me that...I don t

know if I can...

Adaptation, Kiki. He interrupted.

negligee. He was amazed that she was wearing something he d

She rolled off him and onto her back, placing her legs on either

never seen before. Brendon had intended on reminding her of her

side of his body, creating two soft skinned arcs. Clutching her legs,

camera but in the wake of her rare gesture, he had forgotten

he began to make slow, deliberate movements so as not to coax

entirely.

her. Brendon could feel all the muscles in her legs were tensed, feeling like bundles of warm rebar. As he slid one arm down to her

You look...

ankle, she immediately replaced them so they were placed

symmetrically along her thighs. She began to shiver but only

She strode over to him confidently and grabbed the glasses from

Brendon could tell the source of her movement was not pleasure.

his hand.

In a fluid movement she closed her legs and sat up.

Shut up and get on the bed.

He could feel a thickening in his underwear as he began to kick off his shoes. She walked over to him and her expression immediately changed to mortification as a thought crossed her mind.

You didn t forget my CD did you?

I m sorry, I can t. Can we just go back to how we normally...

Yeah, sure.

She indicated for him to turn over and Brendon shifted to his back and she crawled back on top of him. She reached into his pants and began playing with him as blood rushed more rapidly to his

crotch. Reaching over to the nightstand, he fumbled for the package of condoms he had seen laying out when he first walked

in. Brendon flicked on the lamp and Kira immediately froze. Finally

kitchen, he saw his wife sitting in the windowsill, her legs arched at

he saw the dimly shadowed package and grabbed one of them.

the knee as she sat smoking a cigarette with a steaming cup of tea

Kira began to tremble.

by her side. The steam and the smoke obscured the Technicolor

Can...can you turn that light off?

I m about to. I just needed to find the rubbers.

sunrise that shrouded her half in shadow. As they approached, she

turned wearily to look at him with glazed, un-rested eyes and smiled despite her exhaustion.

About an hour later, Brendon returned to the bedroom of the cabin

Couldn t you have done that without the light? I don t see why

you needed to turn it on...it makes me...

to find all the candles snuffed out, the smell of sulfur and wax filling his senses. He saw the frame of his wife s body molding the covers to a mountainous shape. By her breathing, he could tell she

Nervous, I know. It s off now.

was awake as he lay down and pulled the covers over himself.

He rolled the slippery rubber over the tip of his penis and Kira

Droplets of water began to sputter erratically onto the skylight

pushed it all the way down with both of her hands. They rocked

above them, rapping like an intoxicated typist. After a few minutes,

back and forth as Kira s eyes darted throughout the room to check

their frequency mounted. Kira looked outside and began to count

the ambience.

the raindrops collecting along the overhang outside the window.

She turned back over to Brendon and rested her palm on his thigh

Overcome with delight, Brendon grabbed her and, without pulling

but she noticed he was already asleep.

he felt her mounting pulse pounding against his side. He wiggled

Brendon awoke the next day to an empty bed and a clock that

his tongue over her nipple and, before he could reach his head up

flashed 5:47AM. Yawning and stretching, he walked into the living

to kiss her, she pushed it back down with a shaky hand, insistent

room to see a view of the ocean that truly invigorated him. Amidst

expected she was finally reaching orgasm. Instead, she pushed him

his vision. He looked at the churning waves and smiled when he

off of her and curled up in a fetal position in one fluid motion.

recognized that they were in fact moving. He turned towards the

out, he reversed their positions. Her thighs pressed against him,

on maintaining equal coverage. As Kira began to pant, Brendon

Why did you have to do that? You know I need it to be...

Yeah, I just thought, for the sake of trying new things...

the light of sunrise, the ocean appeared a light purple as it filled

kitchen and noticed his wife s camera in the exact same place as he had left it the night before with its red

low battery

sign

flashing. Brendon sauntered over to the kitchen and was surprised to find his wife in a similar position as his recent memory of her.

She was stretched out on top of the counter, smoking in the

No new things. I can t do it. This is all wrong. Everything just feels not right. She flicked her eyes up and down as she spoke, unable

to make a connection with his. Brendon stood up and pulled the condom off. He noticed the CD cover and the faintly lit word

windowsill, with a cup of coffee to her side. Kira turned to see him staring at her and she smiled with conciliatory apprehension.

Hey Bren, what section does an obsessive compulsive grocer

Loveless on the front cover.

work in?

When is it ever going to feel right for you? When we have a script

Brendon spread a well-meaning smile across his face. He flicked

to follow? For Christ s sake, Kira, I m your husband and you act

his eyelids open with great resistance, staring towards her face in

like I m raping you.

That s unfair. You know it s not about you. You know how it works. I get an idea in my head and it s like poison.

the fading darkness.

You tell me.

The checkout counter.

Putting his underwear back on and reaching for his robe he looked her directly in the eye as he spoke.

Yeah, poison. Like the idea that we could try to make this work.

Brendan stormed out of the room and walked to the kitchen, his erection quickly softening. When he reached the counter, he

Same as you.

She stubbed out her cigarette and lined it up symmetrically with the other butts she had smoked.

Same as me.

noticed her camera on the laying out and turned it on in a furious gesture. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Looking out the window, he saw the smoke drifting through in his peripheral vision.

He was reminded of the night Ian slept between the two of them.

The next morning, Brendon and their son had woken up at 6:00AM. Thoroughly rested, the two rose from the bed and walked to their kitchen to make breakfast. As they reached the family

Fordy Shoor is a Writer/Musician living in the South Bay Area. He is currently working on a book of short stories and a novel entitled Steady Diet, as well as helping co-write and develop the animated serial Copernicus Pox. Also a seasoned bassist, he has played with the bands Acid Westerns and The Ghost of Wrights.

Dear Procrastination,

By Kyla McCracken

Y

ou wily minx. You're a sheep in wolves' clothing if I

under the afghan I crotched last year when I tried to read

ever knew one. One minute you make me feel like I

Beowulf and I remember that I was going to write something but

can get anything done, that all I need is some

I've lost all inspiration and it's dark out so...I guess it looks like

inspiration, the next I realize it's been 3 hours and

I'm still mindlessly reading articles about fashion trends that I don't intend to follow. So I decide to take a luxurious, relaxing bath to stimulate my creative juices, and then you point out how

filthy the tub has gotten. YOU ALWAYS DO THAT! And by the time I'm done scrubbing the bathroom it looks too clean to relax in so I

delicately close the door, to try and seal in the freshness for later, when I can truly enjoy it. You whisper gently in my ear, "All you

you've won another round, procrastination. Well played, indeed.

Cordially,

Kyla Joann McCracken Kyla Joann McCracken

need is a cup of coffee, and then you can get started." And as soon as it starts dripping, you casually mention, "Wouldn't it be

nice if you had some fresh baked scones to go along with this?"

And the answer is yes. It's always yes. 45 minutes later, I sit with my warm baked goods and piping hot drink, ready to work, and

suddenly you scoff at me, "How do you expect to fully appreciate the fine bounty before you if you're slaving away at some inane, self-appointed writing assignment? Take a breather, girl! Take some time for yourself! Enjoy this moment. You deserve it." And you're so right. Thank god I have you for a life coach. I take all this finery for granted, like a spoiled little child. I DO deserve a break!

I'm worth it. Now, 3 episodes of Mad Men later, I'm snuggled

PS- Speaking of you, you ever notice how the internet seems to

grow in proportion to how much you don't want to do something?

I'm still working on the schematics of it all, but it seems that if X is motivation and Y is amount of work to be done, and I is internet and C is cookies and F is floundering for ideas and O is yawning,

and T is texting your friends and P is puttering around the house and L is long-johns, and B is pictures of your cousin's baby and M is Mariska Hargitay then I've forgotten my point by the time it comes to making the equation and solving for X. Or was it Y that I was solving for? I'm not really that good at math anymore. When I was in high school, I was always in the advanced math classes, so

by my Senior year I was in AP Calculus. And I was really good at it!

seconds, giving me something new and exciting to watch or read

I had a 4.0 and got a 5 on the AP test. That's like, the highest you

about for 90 seconds or click on or...

can get. I even tutored some of my friends. Never charged them

Sorry, I totally forgot there was ice cream in the freezer.

that and helped pay my way through college. But, in some weird

Catch you on the flip side,

money though...that was dumb. I totally could have made bank on paradox, because I did so well in high school math my college didn't make me take college math, so I stopped doing high-quality

advanced mathematics at the ripe old age of 17. I was a little bitter at first, feeling like my college left me behind and THEN I

K-Money

got genuinely angry, realizing that my entire advanced

mathematics career was a waste of time, because they basically could have stopped in 6th grade when we hit long division and been like, "You know what? You're gonna have computers and calculators to do all this for you one day and the most

complicated equation you'll really ever do is how much change to give someone on a $20 when they buy a latte to go, which is $3.75, so you give them $16.25 back, which is a ten, a five, a

single, and a quarter. OR if your drawer's a little low on quarters, give 'em 5 nickels and they'll totally toss them in your tip jar with the dollar they normally tip you with because secretly, everyone hates nickels. And if you do that 12 times a day, you'll make 3 extra dollars." Anyway, procrastination, I've got to go. I just got a really great idea for an article about the hierarchy of American currency.

Peace Out,

Kyla M.

PPPS- I've decided that the root of my inability to write a cohesive article is a lack of atmosphere. I tried incense, but it made me cough because it turned out it wasn't incense it was one of my roommates cigarettes. So I started thinking about all the great writers of our time, and I couldn't really think of any specific examples. I just had this image of someone with a quill pen and candlelight and parchment paper and a chambermaid... I had to

look that word up because I got chambermaid confused with chamberpot and wanted to make sure I was referring to the

proper chamber accessory. What I'm trying to say is, there was a distinct lack of maids and quill pens laying about my apartment, so I am now writing by candlelight...and the ambient glow of my laptop screen. This doesn't seem right. My roommate has this cat

that's really curious about the flames and I'm getting nervous that she's going to set her whiskers on fire from getting too close and I'm not even going to make a joke about curiosity killing the cat

because I don't think it would KILL her necessarily, but it would probably smart for a while. I also heard somewhere that cats use the width of their whiskers to determine if they can fit through a

small space. Like, if there's a tube and their whiskers touch the PPS- As it turns out, there's not really that much to say about that topic. I'm pretty sure that people's disdain for nickels has less to do with their negligible monetary value and more to do with their feelings toward our founding fathers. I tried to do some research on this, too, but got bored quickly. I just wanted to know who was on the 50-cent piece before JFK, and that led me to Ben Franklin who is a pretty boring dude considering what an interesting and important life he led. Or maybe it's BEAUSE his life

was so full of rich detail and stories that he is so boring. Not boring, just intimidating. There's so much to know and read about that I'd rather just back off and forget about it before I make my eyes and brain hurt too much. I feel like I could just sit and read

about him forever but there's a lot of words and the pictures of his wife are lame and I want there to be more mystery or

sides and fold back, they'll know it's not going to happen, so they back off. So what if this cat burned off her whiskers and then they

were really short so she thought she could fit into tiny spaces and got stuck? I'd have to cover her in butter to try and slide her out, and cats really hate being messy so then I'd have to give her a bath and I'd ruin the pristinely clean bathroom I scrubbed earlier.

This is why I can never get anything done: it's all butter and cats

and snacks all the time. I give up. I'm never going to get anything written. Procrastination, you win. Once and for all.

Yours forever,

K

explosions or car chases maybe. A while back I diagnosed myself with ADD, based on my inability to focus on anything for longer than three minutes. I read about adult ADD being a thing one time on the internet, and that got me thinking that maybe I've just always had it but managed to power though while I was in school because I had to and was a good Catholic girl who didn't let a pesky thing like not being able to focus get in her way of being a good student. But then I thought, if ADD really is a chemical imbalance (or something) in your brain, I probably didn't have the willpower to just push it to the back burner while I did homework, so I'm either making it up or totally developing it late in life. It may

involve other factors. Like this internet that's telling me I have a focusing problem is the very same one that refreshes every .001

Kyla McCracken is a Seattleite living in Brooklyn, NY, where the streets are paved with good intentions. You are becoming a part of history by reading her second published work. Most days you will find her riding a bike, playing dress-ups, and recycling. Other days you won’t find her at all because she likes to be off the grid for short periods of time. She really likes to do arts and crafts, but leaves projects incomplete so that if she dies suddenly she has "unfinished business" to come back for and can haunt the shit out of people. Kyla has read the entire internet.

English Mathmetician Alfred North Whitehead (what a name, right?) said, "Without adventure, civilization is in full decay."

You said it, Alfie. Making Atom Magazine is certainly always an adventure and we are so glad you have joined us for this, our third issue. We'd love to hear your thoughts on the mag, so never hesitate to contact us, day or night at: theatom.mag@gmail.com Keep up with us constantly at: blog.atommag.net Follow us for exciting updates on Twitter: @atommag Be our fan/friend/it’s complicated on Facebook: Facebook.com/atommag We are always looking for new contributors (not that we don’t love the ones we have now) and we thrill at reading your submissions. If you think you would like to write a DIY project or share a recipe or offer sage advice on something you feel passionately about, fire off an email to the above address.

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