Noun. Month of Sundays (plural months of Sundays) (idiomatic) A very long time; too long.
AUTHOR’S NOTE Month of Sundays is born from the idea of distorted time and how this period of uncertainty can either calm or terrify us. I have never experienced laziness and over productivity at such extremes but this unique feeling of simultaneous stagnancy and electricity is somewhat profound. Additionally, Month of Sundays is the product of hours of trial and error quite literally and figuratively. However you chose to interpret this issue is not entirely in our hands, but creating this issue was a breath of fresh air amidst everything that’s happening around the world. - Simran Gvalani I have always been a self dweller, but quarantining for 6 months in your childhood bedroom allows one to reach new existential crisis heights. I felt like my days were blending by aimless contemplation that had no progressive purpose except for filling my daily 24 hours. I felt unable to creatively concentrate on anything and felt like navigating my emotions was a fruitless act to come to terms with. Working on Month of Sundays helped me get back on my creative horse again in a healthy and positively innovative way. The writings I contributed are purely derived from random stream of consciousness thoughts generated within my notes app. I hope whoever takes the time to read my writings can find comfort or affirmation in the validity of their emotions like I did. - Mica Kendall Being in almost complete isolation for the past couple of months caused me to become unbearably aware of myself. After a while, I ended up exhausting all of my distractions. I had stayed away from creating any art because everything had worn me out. I was also plagued by the nausea of creating nothing good. It seemed as though my head had become too full of ideas, near choked by them. Quarantine made me feel like I was constantly on the precipice of waiting for my life to start all over again. But I learned how important it is to just let everything spill out even if it feels like a sisphyean task. Month of Sundays allowed me to crystallize all my pent-up emotions on how my life, and everyone else’s, had become completely upended. - Tarra Boroumandi
CONTENTS
6
Maya Lucia
16
Incision
Simran Gvalani
Mica Kendall
26
Tiresome
24
Mica Kendall: On Zoom, In Quarantine + Around the World
Tarra Boroumandi
Simran Gvalani
18
Deviated Lungs Mica Kendall
34
I Guess That’s How It Goes Mica Kendall
20
Jaded
22
Sunshine Inside This Frame of Mind
Tarra Boroumandi
Mica Kendall
36 44
Stoned Again Mica Kendall
Piercing Serenity Sofia Cianca
MAYA LUCIA
photo + design: simran gvalani
model: maya lucia
Incision *Trigger Warning: Sensitive Content* Time definitely doesn’t heal all wounds I don’t know who coined the comfort mechanism term of all time but it really isn’t applying to me How i feel does not feel like a open gash wound in which someone can just apply pressure and a gauze bandage to make the pain come to a halt Instead it feels like the inflictor made an incision on me and left it there to scar Time can move me physically forward and erode my skin into a mound of wrinkles that adorn the green veins that hold no translucent sheen However time cannot conceal the incision that was implanted on me from the past I see the incision on different parts of my body when i look in the mirror I can turn and turn and arch my back to view the figure that stares at me back from a different angle but the incision is there to stay Someone else’s hands can cover those incisions but the feeling never goes away All it took was one pair of hands to dig their nails into what was once innocent but now resembles a piece of useless flesh The nails chipped away all the comfort that surrounded my bones whole and now leaves a gaping lesion It looks worse than an unwanted tattoo because its something I did not ask for and was not customized towards my needs Worse enough the incision does not evoke any
poetry: mica kendall
emotion that makes it easier for me to sleep when I look at it It reminds me of what I want to forget but never will forget because time cannot heal what my mind chooses to circulate in my brain Circulation is the only function our brains do until we cannot think anymore how ironic that a concoction of bad memories can create a wedge in the passageway Why would you willingly let someone make that incision on you and have it exist on you permanently in the first place? I guess you do not think when everyone around you hounds at you to live in the moment without ever thinking that the moment can end not on your time Time at least offers the malignant coping mechanism that some days feel better than others even though nothing in actuality has changed Disassociating made time go by faster but left me unable to circumvent around the memories that reside within my psyche I’m not thankful for this incision but I’m thankful it represents a time in my life that has long passed me The inflictor existed at same point in time but now I exist alone with only a incision to remind me of what was once tangibly there
illustration: tarra boroumandi
Deviated Lungs
’
I’m me and I can only be me I’ve grown to accept that but I don’t think I’ve ever felt like me I stretch my limbs out to fine tune my sense of self realization with my body I stretch and stretch this body that fosters me Lean I need to stay lean But I’m not trying to be lean for anyone my body has solely been my own I’m not trying to impress anyone so why do i torment this body that inhabits me so Just run they said it’ll get rid of whatever fabricated sadness you feel I’ve been running for my whole life First in adolescence as a hobby for a popsicle at the end of the finish line But now running is more tied to feeling the euphoria of not being able to breathe At 13 i wasted my time playing basketball and all it gave me was a deviated septum that constantly sneers at my lungs each time i run I run and i run and i run round and round the Boston esplanade I’ve been doing that for 3 years now It seems my legs never stop moving even though there’s really no purpose in motion Everything about me exists solely on my own I’ve grown to know my shadow real well but as for my face it fluctuates day by day No self esteem prevalent within me throughout all my life I still remember 6th grade when i got asked if I knew where the boys bathroom was
poetry: mica kendall
I thought I was just a tomboy but my masculinity my femininity who knows External appeal is not flaunted before me Flat chested flat footed flat ass everything about me 2 dimensional how unappealing Walking stick walking stick that’s what i am you can run all you want but it never changes anything about you Oh but exoticism I do possess! Are you Asian are you white what are you exactly? I don’t even know what I am exactly because it gets harder and harder to recognize myself day by day No pills no therapist no reaching out hand to grasp onto for a brevity in comfort Then comes the sudden affirmation of someone who sees this body I inhabit as useful in purpose I’ve been scouted for modeling since I was 14 I think my favorite memory was when the woman once told me my posture was so hunched I must have carried a heavy backpack all my life Little did she know her insult was meta to all the emotional baggage I’ve carried throughout all this time I think I’ll go on a run because I don’t know where anything leads I can try all i might to appease the sensibility that makes me me but i don’t think I’ll ever achieve that unless another hand is in sight For now I’ll just stretch and stretch till this body eventually tears
illustration: tarra boroumandi
Sunshine Inside This Frame of Mind For time has allowed itself back into my psyche once more I think this is what it means to yearn for sustainment in life But time does not allow a moment of clarity For a freeze frame of personal solace can never last indefinitely But a moment that was in one particular frame It may get tangled up within the millions of frames that will constitute your life But at least I can hold onto that frame for as long as I want Since time will never leave me in contrast to how you have left my side I can always remember how you dissipated time while the sun rays remind me that another day has restarted since I woke up by your side
poetry: mica kendall
illustration: tarra boroumandi
Self-awareness grows tiresome.
Mica Mica Kendall Kendall on zoom, in quarantine & around the world on zoom, in quarantine & around the world
design: simran gvalani
photo: simran gvalani + mica kendall
model: mica kendall
Stoned Again By: King Krule
animation: mica kendall
“Weed smoke made me feel so yucky/pullin on my brain born�
Deflated person crossed arms shoulders down.
Exhales a sigh when hands above pull srings of brain.
Brain strings invert into next transition.
“Another fuckin junkie,born�
Subject exhaling cigarette.
Subject pushes remainder of cigarette bud into eye socket.
Subject gets engulfed by flames into next transition.
“Another fuckin scum, torn apart�
Greedy business man subject with cheeky smile.
Zoom in on subject slowly splitting in half.
Subject becomes literally torn apart.
“I was little once more, weed smoke,agh�
Man Alive logo emerges out of the head of the business man.
Hand elevates Man Alive logo into the next transition.
Man Alive logo arrives in transition that is a direct refrence to the album cover.
“Oh I’m stoned again”
“I’m stoned again”
Man Alive logo gets reapeatedly hit with a stone carving hammer.
Man Alive logo after getting sculpted gets lifted by hand into final transition.
“I’m high again, boy”
Smash Man Alive logo in sync with Archy yelling boy.
Man Alive remanents alongside flashing text for conclusion.
Full Animation
Full Album
Piercing Serenity
model: nicolas cianca photo + design: sofia cianca
Crashing as one in isolation