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Volume 20 Issue 44 June 23, 2014
For 20 years The Synthesis’ goal has remained to provide a forum for entertainment, music, humor, community awareness, opinions, and change.
Columns
This Week... Trash Talk
Letter From the Editor
The things you don’t know about the Neal Road Recycling and Waste Facility could fill a space about a mile long by half a mile wide and 300 feet tall, and also those things are all garbage. That’s right, I’m calling you out. What’re you going to do, read this article and get informed? What could be more exotic than an adventure at the dump?
Publisher/Managing Editor
by Amy Olson
amy@synthesis.net
PAGE 4
Creative Director
Immaculate Infection
Tanner Ulsh graphics@synthesis.net
by Bob Howard
Madbob@madbob.com
PAGE 5
Productivity Wasted by Eli Schwartz
Contributing Writers
PAGE 6
Supertime!
logankruidenier.tumblr.com
PAGE 16
Nerd
Accounting
by Zooey Mae
Ben Kirby
PAGE 17
Director of Operations Karen Potter
Owner
Consider the Platypus
Bill Fishkin bill@synthesis.net
by Mona Treme
PAGE 21
Kozmik Debris by Koz McKev
PAGE 19
Jessica Sid Vincent Latham
Dain Sandoval dain@synthesis.net
Comical Ruminations
kozmckev@sunset.net
Arielle Mullen, Bob Howard, Howl, Koz McKev, Tommy Diestel, Jayme Washburn, Eli Schwartz, Mona Treme, Emiliano Garcia-Sarnoff, Jon Williams
Photography
by Logan Kruidenier
zooey@synthesis.net
Liz Watters, Mike Valdez graphics@synthesis.net Joey Murphy, Jennifer Foti
howlmovesmountains.tumblr.com
Two very different but equally remarkable art shows are opening this week. Let’s explore the Steampunk masks and leatherwork of the legendary Tom Banwell in his show at the Fab Lab: Masked Machinations, and wax a bit philosophical as we examine the work of local tattoo artists in Death and the Maiden at 1078 Gallery.
Alex Light Alex@synthesis.net SynthesisWeekly.com/submit-yourevent/
Deliveries
Howl
Art Talk
Entertainment Editor
Designers
PAGE 6
PAGE 8
Amy Olson amy@synthesis.net
PAGE 22
The Synthesis is both owned and published by Apartment 8 Productions. All things published in these pages are the property of Apartment 8 Productions and may not be reproduced, copied or used in any other way, shape or form without the written consent of Apartment 8 Productions. One copy (maybe two) of the Synthesis is available free to residents in Butte, Tehama and Shasta counties. Anyone caught removing papers will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. All opinions expressed throughout the Synthesis are those of the author and are not necessarily the same opinions as Apartment 8 Productions and the Synthesis. The Synthesis welcomes, wants, and will even desperately beg for letters because we care what you think. We can be reached via snail mail at the Synthesis, 210 W. 6th St., Chico, California, 95928. Email letters@ synthesis.net. Please sign all of your letters with your real name, address and preferably a phone number. We may also edit your submission for content and space.
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b l a c k & w h i t e
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Who among you would refuse a shower of attention and praise, a chance to be declared better than your peers, and a mysterious mystery prize that is probably the greatest thing you can imagine? (Or possibly a gift card) Our favorite submissions will be published in an upcoming issue of Synthesis, and showcased on our Life in Chico facebook page.
Black and white photos only limit 5 entries per person. Deliver to: design@synthesis.net
P H O T O S
D U E
J U LY
7
B Y
From the Mouths Of Babes CLICHÉS, AND ALSO LOOK AT THIS CRAZY PICTURE OF BUTTERFLIES There are those moments in life when everything becomes suddenly overwhelming, where we lock up from anxiety—and for those moments there are clichés like “stay positive” and “think happy thoughts.” It sounds so trite, as if one can just picture a positive outcome and everything will be fine for some reason. That’s how I had always interpreted it anyway, until recently when my friend’s seven-year-old daughter got all indigo on me. We tend to forget the kids are listening when her mom and I talk about our lives (often inappropriately). Lily is one of those kids who’s just quiet enough that you think she’s absorbed in her own little world, but once in a while she chimes in with an adorably innocent attempt to relate, occasionally containing wisdom beyond her years. “Sometimes I feel like that when I’m taking a test and it’s too hard, but then I think happy thoughts and then I know the answers.” She kept playing with the pile of colored bands in front of her while we turned and looked at her quizzically. “I think of butterflies, and then I feel happy.” The world peeled open for me in that moment, the profundity of this child and the brilliance of her life strategy. It wasn’t some bullshit power of attraction “think happy thoughts and those things will happen,” it was “feel happy, and your brain will work better.” And goddamnit if it doesn’t work every time; that kid is a genius. Clichés have been caged up in my little shop of pet peeves (along with the term pet peeves) ever since my mother used them to explain every situation ever. The repetition made
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SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM JUNE 23 2014
them sound so hollow, like these were just the things people say. When I started writing, I threw myself into verbal acrobatics to avoid any figures of speech, to evade the traps of language where meaning would be sucked away into the oblivion of familiarity. But I was so wrong. Sure, straining yourself to avoid clichés can lead to some fun new imagery, and maybe that’s the only way to really get through the walls we put up against ideas we deem worn out, but in a very real way that’s reinventing the wheel (which is a seriously perfect example, pat on the back to me). These ideas have been important enough to be distilled into a relatable metaphor, passed around society, and then handed down through generations. These are the touchpoints, the stitches of wisdom that bind us together through time and space, the literal common sense of life as we know it. Within each cliché, each proverb, each little figure of speech, there is a truth about how to keep perspective and handle situations that come up over and over for everyone: A stitch in time DOES save nine, we SHOULDN’T cry over spilled milk, and for the love of God DO NOT try to polish that turd. Anyway, as often as they fall on deaf ears and tend to only hit us with their true depth of meaning when we’re drinking (in vino, veritas!), I am forever grateful that my mom didn’t throw out the baby with the bathwater and passed these well-cultured pearls of wisdom down to me.
Letter From the Editor by Amy Olson
amy@synthesis.net
Local Businesses Going Global SUMMER ROCK AND ROLL, A MISSED OPPORTUNITY, AND LOCAL BUSINESSES THINKING FAR BEYOND CHICO The summer solstice—both the longest day of the year and the official beginning of summer—has passed. It’s all shrinking daylight from here, until we hit the winter solstice in late December. Monstro’s Show I was out on the town during the eerie Friday the 13th full moon and caught a really wonderful show at Monstro’s Pizza out on West Sacramento. I was familiar with Ryan Davidson and his boot-stomping, whiskeydriven songs, but I caught a couple of acts I hadn’t seen before. Stalins of Sound, out of San Diego, combined elements of electronica with ferocious rock to create a lively and crazed sound. They performed with programmed beats piped through their own P.A., and apparently rocked hard enough that someone called the cops around 9:00 or 9:30 on a Friday night. As a result the final act, a local two-piece called Blaster Dead had to play a truncated set. What they lacked in terms of time, the duo more than made up for with high-energy sonic riffs and blistering drums. Apparently the two members have been playing together since they were kids, and it shows—the group has a musical kind of telepathy that only comes about after years of practice and playing. It was a tremendously fun evening; my only minor complaint was that I had trouble hearing the vocals when the louder acts played.
when I saw it and somehow talked myself out of it. I’m not a huge fan of the digital modeling technology. I play through a 1965 Fender amp and feel like that kind of vintage sound can’t be replicated digitally. That said, $25 for a nice little amp with a lot of different sounds in it was probably a dumb thing to pass up. If nothing else maybe I could have turned around and sold it on Craigslist for $50. I told myself all of this and went in early the next day to see if it was still available—alas, it was gone. Farmers Market I’m amazed there’s so much ongoing debate about the Saturday morning Farmers Market (note: for those who haven’t heard, we are happy to announce that the lease on the current location for the Saturday morning market has been extended for the next 6 years). It’s an enduring Chico event that draws hundreds of people each week. It feels like a handful of business owners have decided to turn it into a scapegoat for their own ailing businesses. They should be wary—if they do manage to move the market, they’ll have to figure out something else to blame when business fails to boom. It may be time to dust off and update the old business and marketing plans, i.e. embrace the internet. The most successful businesses in town aren’t just in town anymore—they are selling all over the country and the world from small locations you might not even know about.
Missed Opportunity I’m kicking myself—I was in a thrift shop here in Los Molinos the other day and there was a sweet little Line 6 practice amp for sale for $25. I’d already purchased a couple of things
Immaculate Infection by Bob Howard Madbob@madbob.com
FACEBOOK.COM/SYNTHESISCHICO 5
Tropico 5 THE MORE THINGS CHANGE... I came into the Tropico series fairly late, not knowing of its existence until Tropico 3 came out, and, some might cringe to hear, I played the godlike strategy game on an Xbox 360. I found it to be a more open, varied Sim City, with the importance of running your own little island nation like a business, utopia, and army all at once. Sim City never let me ban contraceptives and install security cameras in everybody’s bedrooms. Sim City never let me strip mine a Caribbean island raw and siphon more than half the profits into my Swiss bank account. Nor did it have an entire island of people furiously rebelling against me, or send me scrambling through charts and polls to figure out why on earth my economy is plummeting into debt. The Tropico series can be somewhat demanding in this respect, but it’s also liberating. You can be a fascist dictator, communist agrarian, socialist utopian, capitalist exploiter, urban developer, ecological warrior, and theocratic pontifex. It takes the already complicated City Building genre of games and overlays it with the international economy and a political simulator. As any player will learn, there are an awful lot of plates to spin. The latest is Tropico 5, hailing itself as “A Revolution,” keeping up with the good old fashioned political rhetoric. Tropico 5 keeps much of the same core mechanics: manipulating public approval, factional politics, and national economy through policy and building. Its “revolutionary” additions, however, include the interesting idea of “Eras,” allowing you to take Tropico through the very different times of Colonialism (as a royally appointed 6
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM JUNE 23 2014
governor), World Wars (as a newly sovereign nation), the Cold War (the setting of most of the games in the series), and Modern Times. The eras are not as exciting as they seem, however. The Colonial era is limited to basic mining and agriculture, and your presence is there only on the whim of the King, making you beholden to a thousand quests that can and will pop up any time. Both the World Wars and Cold War eras just bifurcate [divide into two brances—dictionary.com -ed] diplomacy and threats of invasion; losing the diplomatic depth of the period that the other games explored. Modern Times becomes annoying and impossible, as the newly introduced “Caribbean Happiness” stat frequently ratchets up the citizens’ standard of living to impossible points by the end of the game. The added-in other stuff that sounded cool—like a technology progression tree (and normally I get real excited about tech trees), increased opportunity for privatization, and a customizable Dynasty of Presidentes—turned out ultimately shallow and dissatisfying. Multiplayer sounded pretty cool until I discovered it was locked on a high speed setting, and ends up turning the game into a fast-paced RTS with extra rules, removing the genre’s beloved focus on critical rather than quick thinking. Fidel Castro called a revolution “A struggle to the death between the future and the past.” In its attempts to revolutionize the repetitive nature of the Tropico series, and break out as a great member of the series, Tropico 5 has introduced new elements that simply do not play out in a satisfying way. By trying to fix the old game’s monotony, it’s lost much of its old strength. Stick to its predecessors.
Productivity Wasted by Eli Schwartz
Inner Bipolar Love Story Her hands were wet; her face was wet. The sky was deeply black overhead, seeming to hold Leizah close in a private evening moment. In this time of privacy she was able to gaze inward, in towards that space that was uniquely hers; her mind, and no one else’s. The thoughts she had scattered about in there blinked, glimmered; all the brighter for the lack of physical light all around her. “In an empty sea of space, there is everything to dream about,” Leizah thought. She was shedding tears, and they were falling; glistening drops; into the empty space. A more hopeful part of Leizah stopped them mid-fall, magic’d them frozen, and set the light of hope burning inside. Tears continued to fall, and they froze in place, and were lit up. All around her the sky was deeply black; all within her was a night sky full of stars. A smaller Leizah gazed up at them in wonder, wondering where stars come from, and somehow feeling that she knew EXACTLY where they come from. The tearful Leizah who made the stars looked down on the little girl with love; admired her openness, her curiousity, the fearlessness with which she walked under stars alone. In a moment of inspiration, she breathed wellwishes down through the imaginary sky to ruffle the little girl’s hair. “No! It COULDN’T be…” Just as little Leizah was thinking; feeling; KNOWING the thought of wind, a breeze had started up! It was a
warm gust rushing around her, reviving the cold, starlit night. “What does it mean?” She wondered. The tearful Leizah was taken aback. Her little imaginary friend under the imaginary stars made from tears had seemed genuinely thrilled to feel the wind. What was imaginary, and what was real? Such questions only get taken seriously in the dead of night, and are forgotten in the glaring light of the day. “But really, how REAL is the day, anyway?” the tearful Leizah asked. With its silly people, and its boys with no ability to love, and its jobs that seemed determined to paint the world gray… It was only her fancy, but it did really seem that, if there was a less “real” world, it was that dreary daylight one. Right now, outside, with an imaginary friend that shared her name (but not her size), Leizah was having a much more poignant, more REAL experience than she’d had in months (and this sentiment would subconsciously affect her day-to-day choices for years to come). Inside her thoughts, under the sky full of tears-made-into-stars-by-hope, the smaller Leizah decided that it didn’t matter where the perfectly timed wind had come from. It had felt good, and she could go back inside now feeling better than before. The tearful Leizah took note of this, and offered a prayer that she could receive some optimism herself.
Howl howlmovesmountains.tumblr.com
Tickets are available at LiveNation.com and select Walmart locations. Limit 8 tickets per person. All dates, acts and ticket prices are subject to change without notice. All tickets are subject to applicable service charges.
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T O X I C A D V E N T U R E S I N S M A L L T O W N , U S A BY EMILIANO GARCIA-SARNOFF
Steve Rodowick and I are in his little safety-orange pick-up, winding down along a dirt road into a ravine made of compressed garbage. We’re headed toward a spot about halfway down—the active dumping grounds, where fresh trash is being dumped into piles that haven’t been squished down yet by the giant compactors rumbling about. “This is the last landfill there’ll ever be in Butte County,” Steve tells me. Steve is facial-hairless, with white hair and a diminutive frame. He’s the Recycling Coordinator here at the dump off of Neal Road. Steve explains that with ever-advancing recycle and disposal technologies— like green waste collection and “gasification”—the practice of burying garbage in the ground is in its final decade or two. Will we soon look back with terrified awe at sites like these and wonder: how could we? Americans produce an average of 4.4–7 pounds of trash per day
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SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM JUNE 23 2014
per person, depending on which estimate one trusts. Even if you take the 4.4 pound number—the Environmental Protection Agency’s number—that means Americans produce 251 Million tons of trash each year, 164 million tons of which wind up in landfills or incinerators. We are 5 percent of the world’s population, yet produce roughly 40 percent of its waste. Our production of waste is up 184 percent since 1960.
guys here call it “Mount Dugger,” a teasing reference to Eric Dugger, the “Solid Waste Engineer” in charge of the shape this place takes. Mount Dugger is covered in pale undulating grass. Snaking through the grass are big black pipes, which carry the methane the mountain releases to a generator where the gas is burned. The mountain is so big that it has its own system of roads, and the few men in safety vests working on it look like day-glo dots.
But there’s good and/or bad news: In the last several years the numbers have taken their first significant dip in modern times. “Garbage is a good barometer of the economy,” Steve explains. “2005 was Garbage’s peak. It’ll never get back to 2005 levels,” Steve says pessimistically and/or optimistically. Because, of course, all this begs the question right at the dark heart of capitalism: is more trash good or bad, actually?
Next to the mountain are piles of all the things they recycle here: a tangle of bikes, double-overhead stacks of mattresses, E-waste, tires, computers, scrap metal. “There’s three or four BBQs in there now better than mine,” Steve says, pointing to the scrap metal pile. (The computers and bikes each go to two great local non-profits; you should totally take yours here.)
A vast apocalyptic landscape comes into view. Above, towers a 300-foot trash mountain. The
Below us are the hills and ravines of garbage still being worked on. Some are covered in black plastic sheeting that protects the trash from rain and
animals. There’s a sheet underneath the garbage, too, which protects the groundwater from toxic leaks and has an alarm system that warns of such leaks—much like the electric plastic sheets my mom put on my bed when I was four (OK, seven. OK, fine, nine.). There are two dark ponds, almost pretty looking, full of septic sludge. Tomato plant islands drift on the ponds’ glassy surfaces, feeding off of the nutrient rich waters. Around the bend is a third pond, the “Leachate Pond,” which is garbage tea. Several years ago a diver was hired to swim down into the Septic Ponds and remove—by feel, mind you, it’s too dark down there to see—some “bio-solids” that were clogging the system. “Bio-solids” being just one of many euphemisms necessary in the industry. As Dugger explains to me later: “When you flush your toilet…that’s pretty much what he was in.” How much must this man have been paid? Steve maneuvers the pick-up to the edge of the active dumpsite and we get out. Gloved men are throwing things out of the back of pick-up trucks. The big green garbage trucks that pick things up from your house are tilting up, spilling out squishy rupturing kitchen trash bags and dark, evil-looking fluids. There’s a brutal wind. The upside of this is that the smells aren’t as bad as you’d expect —though they’re in no way good. But landfill dust is whipping around in visible brown
swirls, covering everything and getting in anyone stupid enough to not be wearing glasses’ eyes (just me, really). Anthropomorphized plastic bags—animated by the air—are scampering around, leaping and clinging and playing together. “When you start taking it outta your ears, you think ‘man, you could grow potatoes outta this,’” says Rick Armbrust, a heavy equipment operator in mirrored glasses and a long white goatee. One of the humongous compactors that Rick sometimes drives comes by, crushing stuff. The ground—which is just trash and a little dirt squashed down to 1300 pounds per cubic yard— shakes below our feet. “People’s lives go spilling right out in front of you,” says Rick, as we watch people chuck their former belongings out into the undifferentiated piles. “You get to be sympathetic.” Rick tells me he’s gotten good at looking a load over and knowing what the person is doing. Like the people who are throwing everything away after a relative dies. He sees them pick up pictures one last time, look at them for a while, then throw them back into the piles. The dump is the graveyard of our stuff and people are often processing the memories the stuff elicits as they chuck. Or maybe they’re just thinking, “This is kind of a nice frame,
actually.” The wind is being a real asshole, now. A glossy raven or crow is pecking at something on one of the piles. Throughout the year, geese will nest here. There are wild turkeys, eagles, hawks. In the winter, tens of thousands of gulls have a visit, in from the Salt Lake region. (A great recent article by Tom Gascoyne in the News & Review details the elaborate efforts the dump has recently undertaken to rid themselves of these terroristic rats-of-the-sky, which seem to relish crapping right on workers’ heads. These range from pyrotechnic sound cannons—which annoyed the shit out of everybody, not just the birds—to, most recently, attack falcons.) There are feral kittens and coyotes and even the occasional big wild cat. Rick tells me, with evident affection in his voice, about the chicken that somehow wound up living here for months. The chicken slept in the heavy equipment at night. He was everyone’s favorite pet till a coyote got him. Or at least that’s what they figure. Reader, fellow Thrower Awayer, brother or sister in Waste, consider all this tossed stuff for a moment. Rewind it, if you will, in your mind. Back, back up into the bowels of the big green trucks, then back into your trash can at the curb, then back to your kitchen, your life, your hands. Nearly everything you’ve ever thrown away in this town is in these forgotten mountains. Here are the non-biodegradable artifacts of the FACEBOOK.COM/SYNTHESISCHICO 9
most wasteful society that’s ever been: ours.
Style. But the guys just had to bury it. This drives me insane.
Standing with Rick and Steve, I look down at a wrinkled kiddie pool that probably got 500 minutes of enjoyment and will now sit here for the next 500 years. Still, I can almost hear the laughter and the splashing, can almost taste the hose water. I’m no sage-burning hippie, but it’s like there’s a residue on these things; an ectoplasm from the ghosts of our Consumer pasts.
So I don’t get any good dump score stories. But I’m sure it happens. They just can’t talk about it. And I hear a few unverified landfill legends, at least; about a box with eight grand in it, or the couch cushions completely stuffed with cash.
There’s a stained floral couch, folded nearly in two. It’s easy to let your mind wander in this place. Did a white-haired lady with liver-spotted tissue paper skin sit crocheting on this couch, watching The Price is Right, thinking of a man who no longer physically exists? Did an awkward Community College Biology major with a scar on her hip spend last summer fucking without a condom a dark-eyed waiter on this couch, a strange bond growing between them?
During the fall harvest season, the Sheriffs bring in confiscated weed by the trailer full. Apparently, the Sheriffs aren’t allowed to just burn it in large amounts because that could get the whole town high or something. So they bury it here. In what seems like the set-up for a heist movie starring George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg, Steve tells me that they’ve taken in loads as large as 23 tons. They call it “dump weed,” though they stringently insist they don’t dig it up and smoke it.
The greatest disappointment of my trip to the dump is the No Salvaging rule. What I wanted to hear most of all were tales of amazing scores, valuable things that the workers like Rick pulled from the rubble. But, frustratingly, this is not allowed. Technically, if you were to look down and see a Rolex, you’re not allowed to even pick it up.
In the early ‘90s there were “registered salvagers,” people who were allowed to come in and pick through for things of value. But this practice was discontinued after a woman was buried alive. A tractor dumped a huge load of garbage on her and by the time they figured out what happened and dug her out, she was dead. (In many less developed countries, “pickers” at landfills are actually the primary way that recycling takes place.)
Once, a spurned bride brought her husband’s rolling tool chest completely loaded with tools and just threw it away, Fuck-You
If I don’t get any personal stories about amazing come-ups, it’s made up for by some fantastic ones about miraculous
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SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM JUNE 23 2014
recoveries of things thought irrevocably lost. Like the $60,000 piece of equipment a hospital custodian accidentally threw away, which they were able to dig around and find. Or the frantic husbands and wives who’ve pawed through the mounds and found missing wedding rings, a la needle/ haystack. After its inception and for its first five years, from 19651970, this wasn’t actually a landfill at all; they just burned everything. A continuous five-year fire. But regulations keep changing things. For instance, landfills used to be built along rivers, stupid as that seems. In Oroville, there was one right next to the Feather River for years. In Europe they’re now mining the Trash Mountains. Turns out our landfills often have more valuable minerals and metals per cubic yard than the richest mines. Steve, leaned up on the orange pick-up, tells me that 60 percent of what I’m looking at is still recyclable. These things; these things that fall apart, these things we throw away, there’s still something valuable here, something to mine. At the very least, something to consider.
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This Week Only...
BEST BETS IN ENTERTAINMENT
Monday, June 23rd
Saturday, June 28th
LOLLIPOP RECORDS REVUE
THE DEAF PILOTS’ FINAL SHOW AS A CHICO BAND
THE MALTESE
1078 GALLERY
Four bands signed to Lollipop Records roll into Chico to show us how it’s done. Mystic Braves would’ve been at home on the Fear & Loathing movie’s soundtrack. Corners are pretty oldschool and jammy as well. Burning Palms are sporting two hot blondes in their lineup, who sing together over the Doors-y sound that’s common to all four acts. $5, 9pm.
The Deaf Pilots are moving to Los Angeles, but that’s okay, they were too good for you anyway. They’re a three-piece rock band that really likes Led Zeppelin and making you bang your head. Also playing are The Lolos and Rosebud (she’s a budding rapper from Santa Rosa who wants you to stay strong). $5, 8pm.
Saturday, June 28th
Friday, June 27th
THE SHIMMIES, THE MONDEGREENS, NYX (SF)
SUNBURNS & SUNSETS TOUR, FT. WATSON AND DCAN
The Shimmies have been around since the dinosaurs, and they only get better with time. Reverb, sweet vocals, big choruses, and a fantastic drummer. Nyx (pictured) from San Francisco is a cute young thing playing electro-pop who sings over music that sounds like she’s on Mars planting thousands of purple flowers everywhere. Huh? $5, 9pm.
Lost On Main’s hosting stellar new hip hop from around the country this Saturday. Atlanta, GA’s Watson is an inspiring white dude with some pretty good rhymes. DCAN is from Florida and has been listening to a lot of Lupe Fiasco. It’s a good thing. He’s got a song called “The Fallen” claiming to have been produced by Blink-182... It’s only got 8 views... but it’s really good. $8, 9pm.
THE MALTESE
229 BROADWAY ST, CHICO, CA
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SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM JUNE 23 2014
23 Monday
Maltese: Lollipop Records Revue: Mystic Braves, Corners, Burning Palms, The Electric Magpie. $5, 9pm Sierra Nevada Big Room: Paper Bird (CO). $15, 7pm
26 Thursday
Chico Theatre Company: Forever Plaid. Adults $20, Children $12, 7:30pm LaSalles: Happy Hour with Aaron Brown. 4-8pm
27 Friday
1078 Gallery: We Know The Score: a movie-music cover night. Benefits go to The Barn. $5, 7:30pm Cafe Coda: Friday Morning Jazz
LOST ON MAIN
with Bogg, covering video game theme music. 11am Chico Theatre Company: Forever Plaid. Adults $20, Children $12, 7:30pm City Plaza: The Blue Merles. 7-8:30pm Lake Concow Campground: Sacred Movement Festival, ft. Jelly Bread and many more. $30 or $75 for the weekend. Children under 12 free. LaSalles: Charlie & The Chocolate Factory, DJ Babyface, DJ Sexual Chocolate. 9pm Maltese: The Shimmies, The Mondegreens, Nyx (SF). $5, 9pm Peking: BassMint. Dave Sweeten, Bionix, ALO. 9:30pm
EAT. DRINK. PLAY. Find Out How you Can Play Pool for Only $1/Day!
28 Saturday
1078 Gallery: The Deaf Pilots (final show as a Chico band), The Lolos, Rosa Scoma. $5, 7:30pm Blue Room: Phil From Chico, Live. Stand-up Comedy featuring 8 comedians. $10, 8pm Chico Theatre Company: Forever Plaid. Adults $20, Children $12, 7:30pm Fab Lab: “Tom Banwell: Masked Machinations” art exhibition. 3pm Lake Concow Campground: Sacred Movement Festival, ft. New Monsoon and many more. $30 or $75 for the weekend. Children under 12 free. LaSalles: Madhouse BBQ and Live Music Happy Hour. Lost On Main: Sunburns &
Sunsets Tour: Watson, DCAN, Sofa King. Maltese: Mark Sexton Band. $5, 9pm Monstros: Black Fork, Criminal Wave, Icko Sicko. $5, 8pm
29 Sunday
Chico Theatre Company: Forever Plaid. Adults $20, Children $12, 2pm Lake Concow Campground: Sacred Movement Festival, ft. Delhi 2 Dublin and many more. $30 or $75 for the weekend. Children under 12 free. Maltese: Smashed Spelling Bee, 9pm. $25 tab to the winner.
LESSONS, LEAGUES AND TOURNAMENTS! GREAT FOOD! LIVE MUSIC! 319 Main Street (530) 892-2473
Ongoing Events 23 Monday
The Bear: Bear-E-oke! 9pm Chico Art Center: Sal Casa Retrospective. 10am-4pm Chico Womens Club: Prenatal Yoga. 5:30-6:30pm DownLo: Comedy Night. Free. Pool League. 3 player teams, signup with bartender. 7pm. All ages until 10pm Has Beans: Photography by Kale Barker. 5:30am-10pm Maltese: Open Mic Comedy or Music, alternates every week. Signups at 8pm, starts at 9pm. Mug Night 7-11:30pm The Tackle Box: Latin Dance Classes. Free, 7-9pm University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm Yoga Center Of Chico: Sound Healing w. Emiliano. Breathwork, Meditation, Healing.
24 Tuesday
100th Monkey: Fusion Belly Dance mixed-level class, with BellySutra. $8/class or $32/month. 6pm Open Mic plus showcase by local musicians. 7pm Chico Art Center: Sal Casa Retrospective. 10am-4pm Chico Women’s Club: Yoga. 9-10am. Afro Carribean Dance. $10/class or $35/mo. 5:50-7pm. Followed by Capoeira, $3-$10. 7:30-8:30pm Crazy Horse Saloon: All Request Karaoke. 21+ DownLo: Game night. All ages until 10pm Has Beans: Photography by Kale Barker. 5:30am-10pm Holiday Inn Bar: Salsa Lessons, 7-10pm LaSalles: ’90s night. 21+ Maltese: Karaoke. 9pm-Close Panama: DJ Mack Morris on the patio. 10pm The Tackle Box: Karaoke, 9pm University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm Woodstocks: Trivia Challenge. Call
at 4pm to reserve a table. Starts 6:30pm
25 Wednesday
Avenue 9 Gallery: “Carlos Loarca in Chico,” paintings of Guatemalan folklore. The Bear: Trike Races. Post time 10pm Chico Art Center: Sal Casa Retrospective. 10am-4pm Chico Women’s Club: Afro Brazilian Dance. 5:30-7pm DownLo: Wednesday night jazz. 8 Ball Tournament, signups 6pm, starts 7pm Duffys: Dance Night! DJ Spenny and Jeff Howse. $1, 9pm The Graduate: Free Pool after 10pm Has Beans: Photography by Kale Barker. 5:30am-10pm Jesus Center: Derelict Voice Writing Group, everyone welcome. 9-10:30am The Maltese: Friends With Vinyl! Bring your vinyl and share up to 3 songs/12 minutes on the turntable. 9pm-1am The Tackle Box: Line Dance classes. Free, 5:30-7:30pm. Swing Dance classes. Free, 7:30-9:30pm University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm VIP Ultra Lounge: Laurie Dana. 7-9pm Woodstocks: Trivia Night plus Happy Hour. call at 4pm to reserve a table. Starts at 8pm
26 Thursday
100th Monkey: Chico Story Slam. Tell a 5-min unscripted personal story for prizes. 7-9pm Avenue 9 Gallery: “Carlos Loarca in Chico,” paintings of Guatemalan folklore. The Bear: DJ Dancing. Free, 9pm Chico Art Center: Sal Casa Retrospective. 10am-4pm DownLo: Chico Jazz Collective. 8-11pm. All ages until 10pm The Graduate: Free Pool after
LIFE IN CHICO
10pm Has Beans: Photography by Kale Barker. 5:30am-10pm Open Mic Night. 7-10pm. Signups start at 6pm Holiday Inn Bar: Karaoke. 8pm-midnight LaSalles: Free live music on the patio. 6-9pm Maltese: Karaoke. 9pm-close Panama: Buck night and DJ Eclectic & guests on the patio. 9pm Quackers: Karaoke night with Andy. 9pm-1am University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm VIP Ultra Lounge: Acoustic performance with Bradley Relf. 7-9pm. No Cover. Woodstocks: Open Mic Night Yoga Center Of Chico: Ecstatic Dance with Clay Olson. 7:309:30pm
27 Friday
Avenue 9 Gallery: “Carlos Loarca in Chico,” paintings of Guatemalan folklore. Opening Reception 5-8pm The Beach: DJ2k & Mack Morris. 9pm The Bear: DJ Dancing. Free, 9pm Cafe Coda: Friday Morning Jazz with Bogg. 11am Chico Art Center: Sal Casa Retrospective. 10am-4pm Crazy Horse Saloon: Fusion Fridays, the best country, rock, oldies, 80s & top 40. Country dance lessons 9-10:30pm DownLo: ½ off pool. All ages until 10pm. Live Music, 8pm Duffys: Pub Scouts - Happy Hour. 4-7pm The Graduate: Free Pool after 10pm Has Beans: Photography by Kale Barker. 5:30am-10pm Holiday Inn Bar: DJ Dance Party. 8pm-midnight LaSalles: Open Mic night on the patio. 6-9pm
Maltese: Happy hour with live jazz by Bogg. 5-7pm. LGBTQ+ Dance Party. 9pm Panama: Jigga Julee, DJ Mah on the patio. 9pm Peeking: BassMint. Weekly electronic dance party. $3. 9:30pm University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm
28 Saturday
Avenue 9 Gallery: “Carlos Loarca in Chico,” paintings of Guatemalan folklore. 12-5pm The Beach: DJ Mah. 9pm The Bear: DJ Dancing. No Cover. 9pm Chico Art Center: Sal Casa Retrospective. 10am-4pm Crazy Horse Saloon: Ladies Night Dancing. 10pm-1:30am DownLo: 9 Ball tournament. Signups at noon, starts at 1pm. All ages until 10pm The Graduate: Free Pool after 10pm Has Beans: Photography by Kale Barker. 5:30am-10pm LaSalles: 80’s Night. 8pm-close Panama: DJ Eclectic on the patio. 9pm University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm
SICILIAN CAFÉ Visiting the Thursday Night Market? Stop by for our Farmer’s Market Special!
29 Sunday
Chico Art Center: Sal Casa Retrospective. 10am-4pm Dorothy Johnson Center: Soul Shake Dance Church. Free-style dance wave, $8-$15 sliding scale. 10am-12:30pm DownLo: Free Pool, 1 hour with every $8 purchase. All ages until 10pm Has Beans: Photography by Kale Barker. 5:30am-10pm LaSalles: Karaoke. 9pm Maltese: Live Jazz 4-7pm. Trivia 8pm Tackle Box: Karaoke, 8pm
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PHOTOS BY VINCE LATHAM FACEBOOK.COM/VANGUARD.PHOTOGRAPHY
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM JUNE 23 2014
by logan kruidenier - logankruidenier.tumblr.com
A “Raisin” In The Sun
Right now I’m sitting on my front stoop looking at dog poop. More precisely, I’m watching a twenty-something woman while she watches her tan and white pit-mix dog take a shit in front of my house. She just turned and saw me. She probably had that eerie feeling that you get when you’re letting your dog shit out all the KFC and MiO flavored water you’ve been feeding it all week in front of a stranger’s house, and then you feel someone watching you not pick it up. This whole scene reminds me of something I read once about bears. Before they hibernate they’ll binge eat, but in addition to their normal fare of fish and berries, they’ll eat mud and small sticks because those form a sort of makeshift forest-buttplug so they won’t soil their favorite fleece-lined sweatpants while they hibernate. (A small part of that fact may be inaccurate.) Anyway, I’m watching as this dog slowly turns inside out with the effort of constructing an impressively stacked monument to the memory of all the Slim Jim’s his strung-out harpy has been shoving down his poor dog throat for the last week. He’s licking his lips as he strains to get all the poison out, his eyes fluttering and one back leg slightly lifted off the ground and shaking—more a vibrato than a trillo. The harpy notices me watching her and her dog. She feigns consternation and loudly exclaims (for my benefit), “Oh damn… I forgot the bags again…” In my head I yell out, “I have a Hefty bag and a shovel you can borrow!” I don’t actually
say that though. She has the sinewy muscles and receded gums of a methamphetamine user. They can be unpredictable. Plus I don’t want to hurt the dog’s feel-bads. Plus I’m not the outspoken type. So instead I meet her over-the-shoulder glance, until she turns around and stares me down with those beady nothing-to-lose eyes. I feel bad for her dog. And for the dead grass in front of my house. And for whatever unlucky loser is going to end up stepping in that dog poop a few weeks from now, when it’s all shriveled up and white from the sun… Wait… I think I just suddenly understood A Raisin In The Sun. In that analogy I think I’d be Mama. The dog would be Walter. And that would make the shit Beneatha. Dammit. In the time I just spent deciphering the theme of racial discrimination and how it aligns with the stark contrast of the brown of dead grass in front of my house and the otherworldly blue of the poison dog shit, the harpy and her thirty-pounds-lighter dog have sauntered on. Oh well. Hey did you guys hear the one about the guy who walks into a bar? His alcohol dependency is tearing his family apart. (Cue Michigan J Frog dancing out, stage left). “Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gaaaaaal…”
PHOTOS BY VINCE LATHAM FACEBOOK.COM/VANGUARD.PHOTOGRAPHY
On The Town
Comical Ruminations by Zooey Mae
zooey@synthesis.net
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Death and the Maiden: Tattoo Artists Working Beyond the Flesh
1078 Gallery June 26 – July 19 BY AMY OLSON As an outsider looking in (I have zero art on my body), the most striking thing about tattoos is the dance between beauty and pain. The process of suffering a person endures to become one with an image, to embrace it permanently, seems to hold a certain elusive symbolism. Is it that we believe suffering is a rite of passage into a more defined identity? Does the fact that I could never commit to a tattoo mean that I could never decide what my identity is? Do people commit too flippantly, choosing generic or trendy tattoos, or having lovers names scratched indelibly into their skin? Does that desire to display these symbols, these important or funny or beautiful images (chosen flippantly or not), say as much about a person as what they choose to have inked? Beyond the pain of having the tattoo done, there’s also a certain theme that emerges through some of the most beautiful body art― an odd tension of things that shouldn’t be, or a sudden twist of subtle violence―a darkness that cuts through the singularity of emotion that usually comes from looking at something pretty. It speaks to a primal undercurrent hidden in the artifice of modern life, and maybe says a thing or two about what draws a person to become a tattoo artist in the first place. Death and the Maiden, co-curated by Ben Lucas (of Eye of Jade Tattoo) and Kayla Lunt, showcases this theme through the work of several North State tattoo artists. Among the many contributors are Ben Lucas (of course), Max Kilbourne, Jeremy Golden, Juan Ortega, Tanner Drake, Kip Delaney, Wendy Pham, and Grass Valley’s Cory Norris. When I asked Ben about how the show came together, he laughed morbidly, “It was way more work than I would’ve ever thought was possible for a show [this was confirmed by his lovely wife, Kylee, who told me of the ridiculously long hours he had worked]… Kayla Lunt approached me—she’s one of my clients—she saw [a piece] I did, and asked me if I’d ever done a show. I said I don’t really think I have enough talent to do a show, but 18
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM JUNE 23 2014
I’d be interested in maybe doing a group thing... I named it Death and the Maiden because I thought it’d be fun for tattooers to experiment—well, not experiment, to do what we do: make some things gritty and some things beautiful. It’s kind of the balance that we strive for in order to make [our art]… viable… the masculine and the feminine, I guess.” I enjoyed the use of the word viable in that sense: the idea that the balance of masculine and feminine―harmony and discord, light and darkness―is necessary to give art life and a kind of autonomy. Perhaps that is the elusive appeal of this medium, and the reason these artists have been called to it: like people, it’s born of blood and suffering. While Ben Lucas was obviously wrong about having enough talent (his work speaks for itself), I think the show benefits from having so many contributors; so many perspectives on the central idea. The show is indeed gritty, beautiful, and well worth the sacrifice that went into bringing it to life. Reception | Thursday, June 26th 6-8pm
Tom Banwell: Masked Machinations Idea Fab Labs, June 28 – July 26th BY AMY OLSON By now you’ve certainly heard of Steampunk— it’s in the dictionary for pete’s sake. You’ve seen movies like The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and Van Helsing, you’ve noticed little bits of re-imagined Victorian fashion and technology woven through television and comic books and half the costumes at Burning Man. What you may not realize is that along the way you’ve probably seen the art of Tom Banwell. Tom Banwell is a craftsman—an artist who walks between the fantastic and the practical. His leather masks, hats, and helmets typify the strange beauty of a dystopian future that never was: crow-beaked plague doctors, elephant and aardvark-faced mutants who are well prepared for gas attacks, masquerade balls full of woodland creatures and elemental super heroes. His work has made its way into Once Upon a Time in Wonderland, So You Think You Can Dance, Smallville, Gossip Girl, One Tree Hill, The Cape, Vogue Paris, pretty much every book ever written about Steampunk art and costumes, and museum exhibits from Seoul, South Korea to Oxford, England. Somehow, through all that, he hasn’t had a solo exhibition in 30 years. Until now. And, it’s in Chico. By now you’ve certainly heard of Idea Fab Labs—it’s been on our cover for pete’s sake. You’ve seen their incredible maker-oriented exhibits, and heard about their laser cutter, 3D printer, and their stunning, possibly-too-hip to be so far from the Bay LED ceiling—wait,
what? You haven’t? You mean you don’t read this paper religiously and remember everything we’ve ever written? Well, to be fair, that cover story was just before I started here, and this paper sucked (kidding!). OK, for those of you just joining us, Idea Fab Labs (or “the Fab Lab,” as we call it in the biz) is located at 603 Orange St. It’s “a memberdriven creation zone,” a warehouse space with all kinds of tools and materials for making art happen. Aside from the aforementioned laser cutter and 3D printer, they have traditional fabrication tools and spaces for woodworking, electronics, jewelry making, and textiles. They hold classes and host exhibitions, and you (yes, YOU!) can become a member for a nominal monthly/quarterly fee that varies based on the services you want access to. Also, they have an LED ceiling that’s like a crazy upside down disco. (If you can upside down disco dance, I just made your day.) Coming up on Saturday (June 28th) from 3-6pm, there will be a reception for Tom Banwell’s first solo exhibit in 30 years (I know I just said that, but it’s sort of a big deal and we’ve established that you have a bad memory): Masked Machinations. It’s FREE, suitable for all ages, and open to whomever feels like dropping in and being amazed. I encourage you not to show up wearing your homemade alternate-reality-firemaster mask and helmet, you’ll just embarrass yourself. Reception | Saturday, June 28th 3-6pm
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On The Town 20
PHOTOS BY JESSICA SID
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM JUNE 23 2014
In The Shadow of the Fire PART 2 OF 2 Our vigilance started to drain as one of the four firemen standing on the burning roof hacked out a fire break just ahead of the flames. The fire seemed to be advancing along the insulation at that point, so that stopped it in its tracks. After a while we relaxed enough to venture outside and rejoin the living. My brother watched over the still-crated cat (hey, shit was still burning) so we could take in some blessedly cool fresh air on a street crammed with emergency vehicles, frightened tenants, and smartphone-clicking looky-loos. As the fire was further subdued, firemen began congregating on the green. What looked like budding cross-department friendships were sealed as the guys shook hands among themselves. Soon after, a couple of local girls appeared in their midst, bearing foil-covered plates, short-shorts and selachian smiles. I’d never seen so many fire trucks in one place; between them, the EMS vehicles, the cops, and the Action News reporters, it was amazing you could see asphalt. We decided to take a walk around the block, beyond the closedoff ends of the street. In doing so, we ended up fielding a lot of questions from drivers as they were stopped and rerouted. Of course the main one was “What the hell happened?” (A lot of us are waiting on that answer.) On the return trip, we started thanking random firefighters, especially the extra-sooty ones. Each expression of gratitude was met with a solemn nod and a quiet smile. Former tenants, that day and since then, have been by to gaze upon what could
have been their loss: “Oh God, that’s my old bedroom window.” That can’t be fun to contemplate. I’d especially sympathize with the newest ex-tenants, if I knew them at all or where they’re staying. More than one household, not including the displaced families, has since moved on; we’ll eventually follow suit, for reasons unrelated to this fire. If we never share another wall in my lifetime, I’ll be ecstatic—this really put a cap on that sentiment. It’s one thing to know that apartment fires happen, but trust me, it changes your worldview when it happens thirty feet from your own adjoined backyard. Thanks to those hardworking firefighters, all we ultimately sustained from this incident were cinder holes in the new canopy and a little smoke. Days later, I got mobbed by the ladies at one of my clubs who were dying to know juicy details about How I Survived The Fire!! It pissed them off that I wouldn’t spin it into a big swoony tale of near-death. (Dramamongering horseshit like that is why I don’t leave the house more often.) We go in more for humor around here, including the gallows-flavored variety. During a quiet moment in our vigil, I turned to my beloved and wished him a happy birthday for the second or third time that day. “Make a wish. And blow really, really hard…”
Consider the Platypus by Mona Treme
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JUNE 23, 2014 BY KOZ MCKEV
Aries
Taurus
Gemini
Cancer
Leo
Virgo
You begin the week feeling creative, playful, and a little more conscious about what needs to be done. You are building new work. A creative and futuristic attitude will propel you into the week. You’ll manifest through family, friends, and tribe. The new moon Friday is about memories, comfort zones, parents, and heritage. You want to feel good and so does everyone else. Fix up your home and make it a comfortable nest. Seek a way to expand your sphere of comfort to where it matches other people’s sphere of comfort.
A flurry of vacation plans, communiques, and news from siblings and old friends takes place. Be the bigger person, and allow yourself to indulge in food, song and earthy pleasures. The moon is in Taurus Monday, giving a feeling of contentment and good will. The new moon Friday morning opens up communication, reunites you with loved ones, and gives you the desire to work with your hands. Use caution if traveling late Friday night or early Saturday morning. Don’t be in a rush to experience anything.
You’ll feel a lift of some sort this week. The moon will be in Gemini early Tuesday morning through Thursday early afternoon. Be ready to resolve some of the issues of the past month. You’ll have one of those “aha” moments. The new moon Friday affirms your values and gives you new opportunities to make money. Venus in your first house continues to generate the love vibe. By Sunday you’ll be enjoying your environment more. You’ll be in the trenches of variety, information and movement.
What deeply satisfies you and ignites your passion? How might you make your home better than it is already? With all the growth that you experienced in the last year, how do you plan on maintaining the momentum? You are the flavor of the month in every way. The new moon puts an emphasis on you and your outward expression of self. Emotions, imagination, smells, tastes and memories are the things people are looking for. Do what you can to improve your domestic situation and honor your parents.
It’s often darkest before the dawn. This is the harvest of all that you have done and been through the last eleven months. A sense of renewal will come to you slowly over the next several weeks. Help others who are isolated and in this way you will be making good karma. Pay attention to your dreams. Make some time for prayer and meditation. The new moon heightens karma as well as your psychic senses. Once the moon goes into Leo on Sunday you’ll have more of a “let’s get her done” attitude.
You’ll be at the right place at the right time. Let go of expectations and breathe. Everything is perfect, only we don’t know it yet. This is the last week of Mercury retrograde madness. Take care of the things that have been on the back burner. Be aware of the helpful friends around you. You are likely to meet new friends who see you as a valuable ally. Show your creativity in public. Modestly propose sensible solutions. The new moon rules parties, future planning and good ideas. You are the solution to your complaint.
Libra
Scorpio
Saggitarius
Capricorn
Aquarius
Pisces
Motivation and leadership are your gifts this week. Career moves, talents that you want to show off, and a way of fitting the needs of the public are all part of this week’s scenario. Tuesday through early Thursday afternoon are your power days. The new moon Friday is about rising to the occasion, being a leader and promoting the values that feel right. Approach love as if it were a grand adventure. Be alright with what you don’t know. Justice means different things to different people, perhaps this is one of the roots of discontent.
This is the luckiest time of year for you. Take a spiritual approach to everything. Begin your day with prayer and meditation. Let others know of your positive intentions. Get good people to help you with your projects. Small risk-taking efforts are worth it. The new moon rules long distance travel, higher education, higher morals, and exotic or foreign experiences. Be prepared to apply the new skills that you’ve recently learned. Don’t be afraid to explore new territory.
This is a time when you are likely to find yourself in need of a little help. Other people are likely to be calling the shots, thus your sense of control is limited. You have dynamic people in your court with a no-nonsense kind of attitude. Be patient with those who owe you while making a plan to make it easier for them to fulfill their obligation. The new moon rules birth, sex, death and other people’s property. It also rules occult studies. Your great attitude will open the door for new opportunities.
This is a time of year where you can find a perfect balance for yourself. You are more conscious as to how you might come across to other people. There are also new opportunities for romance, partnerships, and getting contracts. If you’re in the market for love, now is as good a time as any to seek a suitable partner. The new moon Friday helps you to have a new beginning with all your relationships. Long term pleasure requires discipline whereas short term gains often leave you in a poorer place.
Koz McKev is on YouTube, on cable 11 BCTV and is heard on 90.1FM KZFR Chico. Also available by appointment for personal horoscopes call (530)891-5147 or e-mail kozmickev@sunset.net
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SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM JUNE 23 2014
We have the potential to be at our best when things appear to be at their worst. Solutions are the way to negotiate criticism and problems. Our potential increases when we work as a team with others. Your creative celebrations can lead you to a place of compassion for those who have less to celebrate. Sharing and being charitable is where it’s at. Being smart is not enough this week. The new moon rules health, service, charitable causes, small pets, as well as aunts and uncles. Challenges are blessing in disguise.
The joy of giving will increase your living. Your heart is open. Creative expression needs to be approached with a sense of urgency. We need to be happy with the people and situations we love most. The new moon rules children, art projects, being playful and rising up to leadership. This weekend will give you more reasons to smile. Compassion and healing can be fun as well as serious. Make this a new beginning in art, love and nurturing. Affirm yourself as capable, resourceful and joyful.
GREAT
FDR .路 BEAR路 路 WEAR . TUES