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Illustrations by Pearl Antunez @antoonez

EDITORS LETTER This issue started as most issues do; with brainstorming in anywhere it came to mind, staring off into the never ending space before us, asking as many people as we could possibly find, and reflection. Lots of reflection. Reflection in the sense of scrolling through our top 25 most played, our screenshots, instagram saved, notes, flipping through journals, and movie stills, and hoping something jumps out and screams THIS IS THE NEW THEME GUYS! This will inspire people! and actually believing it. Through doing so we found a lot of what had recently caught our eye very much told a story, and very much told a story about one specific person or place or thing. For example, Lil Yachty’s Keep Sailing and an amplitude of photo series focusing on one thing, or one person. We had also been very inspired by a recent movie directed by Mike Mills, entitled 20th Century Women. There is a moment in the film when one of the characters presents a series of photographs of her belongings that she says, together, are a self-portrait. There is a pair of shoes, her bra, a photograph of her mother-- and this is how she sees herself. This is how, if she were to capture who she is in that moment through anything other than her physical body, it would be through these objects. This set of photographs was a STUDY OF who she is. The idea of studying something enough to present it, either visually or through words seemed right for this issue, especially if it is done so in a way you hadn’t expected or thought of initially. We believe changing our perspectives once in awhile can be a good thing. And so with that, we put it out into the world, trying to explain it to people and accidentally giving them the least concise answer possible about what we needed in an attempt to keep it broad. STUDY OF is intended to be a prompt of sorts. “Just go study something, a person, place, thing, object, neighborhood, anything!” We’d try to explain in the simplest terms. And somehow- it worked! This issue is jam packed with art and doodles and digital drawings, which isn’t always the case. And that makes us happy! Matisse said, “an artist is an explorer,” and that is what this issue is, a series of explorations. That’s what all art it. Many of our contributors for this issue are new and we thank all of you for wanting to be a part of it. We hope you enjoy issue 9: STUDY OF…


Tableof Contents EDITORS LETTER Lucy & Olivia........................................................ 03 the Gaze by Nicholas Matsas............................................. 06 Morning Glory MIranda Wollen & Nicholas Matsas................... 08 Passing Time by Jada B............................................................. 10 Morning Routine by Ticia Almazan & Georgina Martin.................. 12 Who am I? Who are you? by Bella S............................................................. 14 All of my Objects by Zoe Bridgewater.............................................. 16 2 Poems by Lucy, Jack and Gill Gul.................................... 20 Evangelia by Veronica Faye.................................................. 22 Chat with Noah Reyman LOSER.................................................................. 26 Mornings and My favorite Stuff by Daniela De La Torre........................................ 36 Best Friends Zawadi & Zanna............................................... 38 Skye & Lucy..................................................... 40 Naomi & Mia.................................................... 42 Julius by Lucy................................................................. 44 My Things by Lara Eviota...................................................... 48 It’s not Always Going to be Dark Karen Davis.......................................................... 49 Eddie Studies Himself by Eddie Tarr, @e_tarr_e.................................... 50 Me in NY by Daniel Shepard............................................... 52 4

editors letter Lucy & Olivia................................................ 03 TItle Names......................................................... 05 TItle Names......................................................... 03 TItle Names......................................................... 03 TItle Names......................................................... 03 TItle Names......................................................... 03 TItle Names......................................................... 03 TItle Names......................................................... 03 TItle Names......................................................... 03 TItle Names......................................................... 03 TItle Names......................................................... 03

Illustration by Stella-Maris Bock 5

the Gaze STUDY OF

by Nicholas Matsas



Morning Glory MIranda Wollen

with a swipe of your gentle hand you brush away the clustered constellations of sleep that inhabit the corners of your eyes your blessed morning dew soon these same corners will be inhabited by slow cerulean streams (or even worse, maybe they will not) but not yet not when the brightness of today holds such wondrous mystery, such unbearable possibility not when the smells of coffee and blueberry pancakes shoo away the shadows that will soon peter through the curtains not frown lines nor tired eyes will plague your face today you will not allow them to what good are these pestering, omnipresent little plastic soldiers against you, one of iron and blood and bone? you run your face your hands your mouth under holy water, hoping to cleanse yourself of mistakes made when you felt cold you shed last night’s ratty t-shirt out of which will soon be washed your dreams, for better or for worse; soap dulls with the messy orange of the sunrise and the navy blue of your sinful slumber you look in the dirty mirror here you are in all your morning glory




Jada B.

This photo concept developed in my mind while I was sitting in a classroom a few days ago. My lip was bleeding because I was biting it, and I just didn’t know what to do as I was waiting for the school day to be over. It’s titled “Passing Time” because I wanted to show what I do to pass time, and how hard it is for me to wait and be patient and focus on an assignment. I can’t focus in school, so I’m often getting in trouble for going on my phone (as it’s the only thing that gives me enough stimulation and keeps me from being bored). I wanted to put out there that I’m not just on my phone because I hate school and I don’t value education. Because, for a fact I’m so so thankful for the wonderful education and opportunities I’ve been blessed with. Teachers just look past the issue of focus and attention problems that students may have. Teachers assume that students just “don’t care about school”... But, I’m putting this out here because I do care about school, I 10

so hopefully these photos help explain it a little. Having to wait and

just don’t know how to deal with it. And i just. can’t. sit. still. I’m not really sure how to put all my thoughts into words, and I’m not really sure to describe how I feel,

having to try and try to focus, but never succeeding is not fun. It’s not pretty. And it’s not something simple to understand the whole idea of, I don’t even fully understand it myself! Anyway, this is a concept really close to me, so I’m really nervous about putting it up online, but here goes nothing!!”


MO RN IN GS Photos by Georgina Martin


Morning Routine Routine Morning by Ticia Almazan It’s summer vacation. I wake up, and the clock reads 6:22 AM. It’s not rare for me to greet the world this early. I usually wake up at the early hours of the day and I have come to the conclusion that this is caused by my mother waking me up early for school for ten months straight. The morning sunlight dances lightly in my room as it always does, tapping on the floors, seats, and shelves. I am more often than not only accompanied by the soft snores of my sister, who is laying asleep in the bed next to mine. My mind is usually blank at this hour, but I welcome the quiet almost immediately, because it is difficult for me to clear my mind. I allow my eyes to graze over the objects in my room. Tahey land on my shelves first, where multiple journals and books are cramped together. I wonder whether I should write in my journal today or reread my old ones. I mindlessly scan the words on the spines of my books, focusing on the words and their meanings, or simply how they looked. What font is that? The sun visits me through the curtains beside my shelves. The hues of pink and orange kiss my face lightly, and I am often amazed by the ways something so mundane as sunlight can become fascinating when it is stumbled upon at a different time. I remind myself that this is special, because not even the sunset can look half as soft as the sunrise. My eyes fall to the pair of white sneakers peeking out from under my sister’s bed. I notice the proof of adventure etched on them, in the form of dirt and dents. Sneakers are more comfortable worn out anyway. I turn over and stare at my cabinets. “What should I wear today?” are words that refuse to leave me alone, and I proceed to picture the clothes in my closet, trying to put together an outfit. My attempts at planning often fail however, because I get dressed according to how I feel, and there’s really no telling that until the very moment I have to leave. My eyes scan the rest of the room: the table, fan, laptop, guitar, notebooks on the floor, body butter on the side table, bag on the doorknob, hanger on the closet handle. My eyes finally rest on the ceiling.


Who am I? Who are you? This person I meet after months of knowing of you. How can you just come into my life so quickly? Who are you? I could describe your features. That’s easy. Big brown eyes. 5’11. The warmth in your smile. Who are you? Are you the sadness that fills me when I watch you disappear down the steps of the G train station? Are you the happiness of your corny jokes and a kiss on the cheek? Or are you my guide leading me to commit acts of self-destruction? Are you the reason to get better or the reason to get worse? Who am I? A question I spend hours trying to find the answer to only to be left with labels and other people’s names. I have long legs, short hair, a face and a mind that meddles. Am I the breeze in your hair or the hot breath on your neck? Am I your light-headedness and your inability to think straight? Am I the blur in your vision? Or am I just your torturer who brings nothing but sleepless nights and the uncertainty of what to say? But honestly, who are you? And who am I? -Bella S. 14


photo by Olivia W. 16

N/A by Zach Evans

Throughout our entire lives it as though the world is falling apart, from moment to moment. Then we move on to the next crisis and as that appears more and more catastrophic the ones before appear, in hindsight, trivial. And so on and so forth, until we either die or achieve some kind of peace. Death is far more likely. In the September of 2017 I felt like the world was falling apart, as I had everyday since birth. I was a bisexual, non-binary and vegan teenager in South Wales. My interests included: film theory; punk rock; obscure stand-up comedy and politics. I was tall, skinny and wore nail varnish and woman’s jeans. Add to that menagerie the fact I was perpetually single and you can see why I might feel as though my life was an unmitigated disaster. It’s safe to say things were pretty shitty and unfortunately things have to actually be in the past for their trauma to be neutered by hindsight, not painfully present. A waking nightmare wherein you are trapped in a closet that you know you could step out of any time but what greets you on the other side may not be entirely pleasant. Every time I began to think it would be okay to open that closet door, I would walk down the street and hear someone be called ‘tranny’ or ‘faggot’ and I’d retreat back inside again. A cycle of perpetual suffering and it made me want to scream. So I did. It was the only freedom I had left: the freedom to scream into the abyss; the freedom to look all this bullshit in the face and tell it to ‘fuck off’. Two moments, both brought about by some bright blue nail varnish. My mum got it for me after I came home from town with a friend, six coats of PoundLand crap on each fingernail. The colour was called ‘It’s A Boy’ a name I found ironic since I was wearing it to feel like anything but a man: even in my attempt to break free I was being

labelled something I was not. But still, I wore it every chance I got- which admittedly wasn’t often in the sea of homophobes I found myself drowning in every time I stepped out the front door. The first moment. I’m in Greggs, god knows why; probably to buy some overpriced apple juice. I’m on my way out of the shop when I hear a laugh, penetrating and nasal. There’s a dude about three times my size, dressed in an all black Nike tracksuit. I turn and glare, watching as he turns to the guy standing next to him and snarls: “Stupid fag just wants attention.” The air is filled with the smell of burning pastries and stale bread and the words are reverberating around my skull. “Just wants attention.” As I stumble into the street, I remember another time, another painful incident. My mate, a mate who I had trusted with who I really was, is staring into my eyes, hatred on his face. We’re standing in front of everyone we know and he declares: “These fags, they’re just lying. It’s not true. It’s all just for attention.” My identity, the underlying truth of me, the foundation for everything I was, was just a desperate grab for sympathy. A ploy to get them to look my way. Second moment. It’s 2am. I’m texting a friend; a friend who I don’t know particularly well, a friend I don’t know is any different from the rest. I send her a picture; a stupid face with my eyes wide and my lips pulled back. At first I don’t notice the small sliver of blue nail varnish you can see in the corner of the screen. Then the realisation hits, constricting my throat and halting my breaths. The world is falling apart all over again and there will be no putting it back together, not once they know. I’ve accidently knocked the closet door open and there’s no yanking it closed now. I’m going to spill out into the world, vulnerable, alone and in full view. Then I get a message. Three words and a letter: “blue suits u x”. 17

One of the most memorable scenes in the movie “20th Century Women� for me is when Abbie photographs her belongings. This inspired me to look at all of my objects with a new perspective and gather a few of my favorite possessions & photograph them.



OBJECTS by Zoe Bridgewater




Apathy of a certain blue for children so paltry Left morality vague and jurisdiction delirious Budding maturity living in a tall tree Raked and scoured for something more serious Bury one’s head in sand when tasked to concede Chastise the source for backhanded sedation Misunderstanding is your lie to plead Blame your casualty for their lack of consultation by Lucy

Photos by Gil Gul 20

The feeling of weightlessness A certain freedom that can only be received in your best moments with your family and your friends All that is in your mind disappeared things that trouble you and all your worries All that is left is Joy and love of those around you as if they were changing the world and making everything lighter by Jack W.




“He wanted me to wait for him, but I fell in love”

She probably never thinks about me. She should be something of the past. In a sense she is. I guess. I don’t remember how it fwlt to be in love with her. Sometimes I do and I am jolted into the shadow of reality that has long since died. THose are painful moments—when I am reminded of the person I wanted her to be. But, for the most part, she is a complete stranger to me, She couldn’t care less about me and I will always have anger harboring inside me for that.

I wish I had brought that little vile of perfume Vanja gave me before she moved. Somtimes when I’m in the mood to cry, I dab a tiny bit onto my wrist and lie on my bed, holding it to my nose till my senses go numb.



Noah:“When I do art, i’ll be sitting in my chair not doing anything for twenty minutes… i’ll sit there and just close my eyes and think until I’m will be like, “okay, i’m ready.” I’ll turn on some calm music and i’ll start practice sketching until I think of something that I want to draw and then I will just start. Usually in the beginning it just starts as a basic template but after I will scan it so I can work on it digitally. So everything I have done digitally has been a sketch at some point . LOSER: My dad always says that when he does his art it always starts out with some sort of inkling of what you are going to do. And then as you go you begin to lose yourself completely and that’s when you get into something that’s, like, actually good! Ya know? 26

Yeah totally. For example this [points to his signature written on a napkin] when it started I didn’t really know what it was gonna be but it turned into something weird, that I liked. I like weird stuff. Yeah me too! I like stuff with a sense of humor. There is so much art that is kind of pretentious or so intensely angled at having this incredibly deep, and monumental meaning that it almost never comes out that way. Yeah I hate all those paintings of boats and buildings, like, i’m sick of that. Andy Warhol, Keith Haring, Basquiat, all those people had such a prominent sense of expression and it was so unique. Like Basquiat’s stuff sometimes just didn’t make any sense.


Of course it did. Everything makes sense to the artist, in some way. Have you ever made art that you didn’t understand? Of course I have but that was like 2 o’clock in the morning and i’m half asleep, haha, But then I will look at it in the morning and try and make sense of it. Usually I get it. I know a lot of writers that wake up in the middle of the night to write and then read it in the morning when they wake up. Someone once said to me that it was so strange and, like it’s not even them who had written it. Right! I do that sometimes. It’s like forgetting to do homework and then remembering right before you fall asleep and you’re like oh shit I need to do that! So I get up and Ii sketch until 5am. Either way, It needed to happen. Do you think there is any specific time when you are at your best, artistically? At night, Definitely. Really? Why? That’s when everything from my day starts to process into my head. I can think of stuff that I saw, or that I did, or even words that I saw that stick out to me and might inspire some cool piece of art. My friends and I were talking about art colleges and how they usually make you explain you pieces, like, “why did you use blue??,” well because I fucking wanted to use blue! Do you ever use hidden meanings or are you mostly just like this is right and that’s why it is in this piece. Mhm! My tag has a hidden meaning! Here look i’ll show 28

you.. BIG. So it’s weird. I developed this version like 2 months ago at FIT. I was playing around because I had to develope a tag for my name. And they were like, “do something that means something to you”. So I started with the B and I did it as a rough sketch and I was like, “okay. What does that remind me of?” For some reason it reminded my of a music clef. And I love music so I was like, “wow— oh that’s cool.” Then the i is supposed to look like ice cream. When I was a kid I used to wait for my parents to fall asleep and then go and steal all the ice cream. And I was really good with it too! If it was really cool I would heat the spoon so it would be easier haha. After, I would ALWAYS blame it on a ghost. At the time I couldn’t blame it on my sister. Then the G— it is super rough and jagged and it reminded me of my body and how many times I have broken a bone. Like my arm, my legs, my ankles, my toes, i’ve had shin splints and i’ve fractured four vertebrae in my back .. and most of it is from sports. Holy shit! You’re like a walking earthquake of natural disasters. Pretty much, and if I had fractured even half of another one I would have been permanently paralyzed and we probably wouldn’t be here. Do you think about that possibility a lot? Yeah all the time. I do really stupid stuff. Why? I like the adrenaline a lot. That’s why I play sports. Do you get any of that adrenaline from creating?

Very much so. If i’m painting for someone or doing a mural— I get a ton of adrenaline from that. Especially when I think about what I look like. Because i’m wearing my mask and my painters suit and music blasting out of a speaker behind me— I’m on top of the world. I don’t let anyone be there with me. Because you can’t break that momentum? Yeah! So usually i’m just there for hours, and sometimes i’ll forget to eat or drink or just sit because I am so deeply in the zone. I’ll go for so long. The longest I have gone is like 7 hours.And I left the room and passed out. I was really tired. Right that must be exhausting to be constantly burning this creative energy. Definitely. One time I was painting this guy’s bathroom and I got so tired I fell asleep in his bathroom. What’s your favorite medium? Either digital or markers... just because digital you can never really mess up. For pencil it feels really good. And it actually feels really good to mess up. Because you’re like, “yeah, I can still do that, I can still mess up,”… and then paint just.. SCREAMS out at you. When you’re done and you look at it you can just feel it talk to you. Do you look at other people’s art a lot? Oh yes definitely. Other people in general are a huge influence. I almost always have one of my friends look at a piece before I finish it and see what they think. I’ve had someone come from new jersey all the way to manhattan like, “you need to come see this, I cant say its done until I have another set of eyes.”

Do you ever feel like not being able to say, “yes. This is it. It doesn’t need other eyes,” Ever makes it less genuinely yours? No not necessarily. Because you obviously like it. You began it this way, you made it this way, you just want other people to like it with you. So it’s not unoriginal it’s just that you want to make sure that your original idea is good. You wanna insure quality. You should always want to be critiqued, there is almost always something to be improved. Yeah, my dad told me the other day that he always used to ask his best friend if he thought artists start out slightly crazy or end up it because that in between part of putting yourself out somewhere else, and losing yourself in your art can take such a toll… or give one! It’s a hallucination. It’s a real life hallucination. Especially because usually people that aren’t creatives, when they feel something, they can let it take its course or fade, but when you are more of one, it can sometimes be like, “ohmygod! I need to hold on to this feeling because I need to use it.” Or— “I cant expel it the way somebody else could it needs to come out through my sketch or painting or photograph or whatever. And i’m going to work on it until it has a color and a shape and and a feeling! And I could look at it and I could feel that again.” Totally! That does make you a little crazy. I think, in response to that question it is a mix of both, considering you would have to be somewhat, “crazy,” to start in the first place. I know I I’ve been insane since I was born 29




Once, the night that trump was elected I stayed up until like 3 o'clock in the morning, knowing that there was school in the morning, because I needed to sketch something. So i'm staying up and I end up with this insane image, I was really mad. And you can tell when you look at it. In terms or artistic insanity. The definition would be trying something over and over again, expecting a different result and oh I do that all the time. So you could say insanity is a huge part of any process of me making art. I try things over and over again until I can get it right. Like right now i'm trying to develop my own font and every time there is something off I try it over and over again Also, I can make a piece of art that is AMAZING, but if I don't like it...Its trash. Like Picasso or Basquiat probably made things that people loved but they didn't have any care for. Like at least 100s of times in their artistic career. Oh totally! Sometimes that can happen and it feels shitty to have that piece even exist, sometimes. I feel like you can make something and it's so not you that it just sucks to have out there.

Definitely! It’s such a strange process in so many ways. But I love it.







by Noah Reyman





by Daniela De La Torre

This a series of portraits of a friend of mine interacting with her favourite objects. That way, she wears all her favourite clothes at the same time, or gains consciousness of herself by playing with her belongings.




f o y

d u t S

Zawadi & Zanna

I met both Zanna and Zawadi at around 2:15 to see a movie. We saw Spider-man in the Regal Union Square theater then started to walk towards the Lower East Side where most of their spots were, they said. Favorite way to get somewhere? Walking, they both agreed with no contest. Zanna and Zawadi met in 1st grade from being in the same class. Zanna explained how she decided she wanted to be friends with Zawadi and she kept bugging her until they became friends. They’ve been friends ever since and go to the same high school. They meet everyday before school and go together. They’re close, they’re really really close. They interrupt each other and finish each other’s thoughts naturally. (they call it the waves and vaguely and ominously point near their heads) First, we go to Remedy Diner, a place I know very well. 38

The school they go to, which I also used to go to, is positioned so this diner is the perfect natural hangout for students. It’s warm, it’s cute, they seem to live there. They explain it as a rite of passage if yo u go to their school: where to go if you have nowhere else to, but don’t want to go home yet. They end up there a lot, maybe u p to four times a month. On meeting each other before going to school: “..maybe I’ll be like 5 minutes late right, and she’ll be like just waking up, that happened one time, The longest I’ve waited is like,” “-45 minutes” “No!” “Longer!” “I highly doubt that- no, I don’t highly doubt that.”

They explain how for their next year of high school, anytime Zanna is late to meet Zawadi in the morning. she’s going to have to pay her like 20 cents or something. One of their favorite stories together narrated by them: “So it was after tech crew one day I’m pretty sure, no,” “No, yeah I feel like we were just at school before the play because it was before tech, It was like December before Christmas.” “So were were just like chillin right and we were just like you know what? Why don’t we just get lost, like take whatever turns we want to- I know impossible around here right-“ “And it was like dark too, it was like a Thursday night!” “And we went into this deli and I got a ring pop-“ “And I got a fruit by the foot, and our phones were gonna die because I left my charger with Taylor“ “Oh yea! So we just like walked from there and ended up around Rivington like Economy Candy, so we went in..” “And there was this really cute Italian guy and he was there with his family-“ “And he held the door open for me!” “He like spoke Italian and he was-“ “He was-“ “He was something- but we didn’t say anything to each other and we like went away and we were both like-“ “And I was like HE OPENED THE DOOR FOR ME and then we started talking and we were like we need to go out more and meet people, so we named him..” After we went down to the East River, one of their favorite places and they sat on the grass next to the vacant baseball field. Thank you to Zanna and Zawadi for everything! Zawadi- @z.boyce Zanna- @za,nna


Skye & Lucy I met Skye in the 4th grade. We were in the same class and we got put at the same table. We instantly liked each other. Our personalities worked well together thought we weren’t similar in the least. We are still friends now and haven’t ever stopped being friends since we met. We like to say how we are one of each other’s favorite people ever. We both will help each other do whatever and work on projects and everything. We don’t see each other as often as either of us would like but we try to as much as we can. Wouldn’t matter much anyways, because if we didn’t speak for 5 months then one of us called the other for any reason, there’s no doubt in my mind that’d we’d both answer immediately. It’s friendship in the true sense of the word, where we both love the other person and would choose them outside of just coincidence. What do we both love? Britney Spears, Avril Lavigne, Destiny’s Child and many other bops we can terribly sing together. We also have similar taste in things and like very stylized things. We used to go about once a month, more or less at times, to V Nam Cafe, a Vietnamese restaurant on 1st Ave and 1st street. We made it a tradition and returned for the first time in a while the other day. The owner who we used to see every time and he’d give us free guo cuon occasionally, waved to us and said long time no see. While the server guessed our order (one beef pho split into two bowls) when she came to get our menu’s. We’ve spent years going and will continue to. We only eat Asian food together basically. Still the why is vague. After we walk down 1st avenue, which is the usual route we walk after eating. We usually walk from there to near Tompkins sq park and look around at jewelry or clothes or art or honestly whatever around there then. We sometimes go to either Sweet Generation bakery for Skye’s favorite red velvet cupcake or our special donut ice cream creation we made on a particular winter day. Then we almost always take the M15 bus, which we love so dearly, up 1st Ave. Sometimes off the m15 we stop at one of my favorite thrift stores to browse, Vintage Thrift, and sometimes we just take it back to the middle ground between our homes. We follow this almost exact plan 90% of the time we hang out. It’s enjoyable every time as we catch up and look around and discuss everything. We joke well together too, we think due to timing or something like that. Majority of our interactions also involve myself “lecturing” or more suggesting things to calm down Skye. She’ll try to do something dumb and I’ll have to say Skye! Don’t do that or Bruh Skye cmon or something of the sorts. We love each other dearly and are close friends in the true meaning of it. Also she really loves those happy birthday sunglasses she’s wearing in all the photos and makes a point to take them from my house every time she can. 40


Naomi & Mia

We met at 11, I met Naomi at the train and we walked to Mia’s house. Mia wasn’t answering her phone so we walked around the area and Naomi showed me the park and what was around. About 45 minutes later, Mia answered and they nicely argued about whether Naomi told Mia about the plan or not (they eventually came to the conclusion that Mia didn’t really know) So, we walked and got drinks and Mia met us a few minutes later and we took the G to Prospect which was the first place they picked.


Mia- Okay okay, I kind of remember Naomi- You remember it better than me Mia- So in 6th grade we were in the same class and I don’t know I wanted to be like friends with her or something Naomi- AW! Haha stop it did I really look cute in my like cat shirts? Mia- Sure and I saw her outside the classroom and was like I really like your shirt! Naomi- WAIT WHAT REALLYwas it the one that said rawr??? Mia- No, it was from your cousin and it was like actually a really nice shirt Naomi- You remember the shirt? Mia- Yea i remember! And then you were like THANKS! It’s my cousins and then you like inspected me up and down looking for something to complimentNaomi- (laughs) Mia- But i was wearing like a really ugly-like I was wearing shorts down to my knees and this green tee shirt and then you saw my bracelet and you complimented it and I was like thanks Naomi- Sorry about that 43



Place of choice: CHINATOWN

Favorite way to get somewhere: TRAIN

Favorite song; SONG FOR ZULA

Favorite train line: JZ


Least favorite train line:C

Favorite weather: A COOL SUMMER NIGHT

Favorite bug: STICKBUG


Laura E.– S

“ , he said as he held up his phone. He attributed his cracked screen to dropping it all the time including that morning and carried a flip phone he stole from his neighborhood friend Milo. He talked about early 2000s sludge rock, school being weird, watching Trainspotting, Brooklyn and having designated Brooklyn neighborhood friends among many other things. Clinton Hill he described as quiet but good, a pretty okay place to live.I’ve known Julius existed for like 7 years but have actually known himfor about 1-2. I decided to do a study on him as he was one of my close friends and we knew each other plenty well, but I didn’t knowhim well enough that I’d have any idea where or what I’d see or figure out from this. He’s a musician and has been in some of the previous issues in either photos or videos I’ve done.




Self-portraits by Eddie Tarr



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Loser: Issue 9  
Loser: Issue 9