The Bushwick Review—Issue IV by The Bushwick Review

OC .

R PE

A SP

T HO

D OL

. OC

A OD

KOS K KOS _ C KOZ U_ _ KOS Z_ K O S C KOS IUZ_ C KOS IUSK_ CIU SZK O

K O S OK _K CS OK K Z _U _ SO OK _Z CS OK K I S U IC SO Z _ SU IC U _K ZS K O

& RS

K K OS K OS K K OZ C _ K OS _ U_ K OS Z K OS CI _ O C U S I Z C U _ I S U K S _ Z K O

OL D

CIGARS & C

& AG

ES TT

CI E IC

K K OS K OS K K OZ C _ K OS _ U_ K OS Z K OS CI _ O C U S I Z C U _ I S U K S _ Z K O

& TT G RA

OC .

SETTERAGIC & SRAGIC

OK _KS K SO _UC OK _Z OK _ZS K O ICS _ZU CSOK UI S K SOK _ UIC S Z OK

CIGARS & CIGARETTES

COFFEE TEA & CHOC.

OH EB

COLD BEER & SODAS

COFFEE TEA & CHOC.

TT CO

_KS _UC OK SOK _ZO K _ _ZU ZSOK _KS ICSO OKZ UICSO K SUI K CSO K

s &p r I n g / s u m m e r GA

RE &

GA EE R

K_ KOS U_ C KOS _ KOZ _ Z KOS IUZ_ C KOS IUSK_ O C KOS IUSZK C KOS

CI B

ER S

HOT & COLD SANDWICHES

GA &

CO HOT & COLD SANDWICHES

CANDIES

_KS _UC OK SOK _ZO K _ _ZU ZSOK _KS ICSO OKZ UICSO K SUI K CSO K HOT & COLD SANDWICHES

OK _KS K SO _UC OK _Z OK _ZS K O ICS _ZU CSOK UI _KS ICSOK SU OKZ

NEWSPAPERS

COLD BEER & SODAS

NEWSPAPERS

I TsT EsS u e I V

2013

Dear Readers, After reading The Bushwick Review,

THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

Welcome to the fourth installment of The Bushwick Review. Back in

I hope you feel able and inspired —

2009/2010, I started The Bushwick

whether that’s because of a piece that

Review as a way for my friends to share

calls for your active participation or

their work with others. I hoped it would

a short story you read that makes you

give them a small amount of exposure

want to write your own. Maybe you

and a larger amount of encourage-

will even want to start your own zine.

ment, as well as create a sense of

In addition to The Bushwick Review

community between all the contribu-

print zine, there may be other ways to

tors. More than three years later, those

participate in the future. Since each

motivations haven’t changed, but I

issue only allows for a certain number

want to step up the entire game. I’ve

of contributors and takes a while to

invited a few new contributors to join

make, I’m trying to think of ways

the longtime ones, as well as looked

more people can be involved. Nothing

for ways to improve the entire zine and

is concrete yet, but I’m considering

take it in new directions.

supplemental online content, a music or film night, readings, or parties.

In this new issue, the major improvement you may notice is that

Or maybe just a conversation — now

it’s the hottest-looking issue yet. That’s

that’s a truly beautiful art. Write any-

because Tim Vienckowski designed it.

time to bushwickreview@gmail.com

Tim has been a contributor to every

or if you live in the New York City

issue of The Bushwick Review, and now,

area, I’ll meet you in person. Really. I hope you enjoy The Bushwick

he has generously lent his mad design

Review IV.

skills to the entire thing. As you turn these pages, enjoy how great everything looks. Bask in his hip aesthetic,

Until next time,

relish his aloof geometric style. I wish

Kristen Felicetti

the world looked the way Tim designs, so having him design The Bushwick

thebushwickreview.com bushwickreview@gmail.com

Review is one awesome step towards that dream coming true.

Thank you to Michele Rosenthal, Nicholas Burgess, and Joel Alter (pictured at right in 1985) for their editing assistance.

LV E

TYPES OF CREATURES MENTIONED IN THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV 

Table of Contents

Carrot ( p. 7 ) � Orange juice ( p. 8 ) — Red wine ( p. 8 ) — Shi



29 ) — Stimulant-boosted alcoholic beverage ( p. 29 ) — Gin ( p. 46 ) — Sugary drinks ( p. 48 ) — Honey ( p. 48 ) — Korean taco ( p. 50 ) — Mexican banchan ( p. 50 ) — Pierogi ( p. 53 )

FOODS/DRINKS CONSUMED IN THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

The Beat of Beirut Kathleen Flood

11 Monsters of the Sea Rebecca Nison

Mouse

12 Saltwater

Clayton Eddy

Nanobot

13 Gloves

Cat

Matt Cook

Alien Sea Monster

15 Mouth Mountain Nicholas Burgess

16 STOP THINKING ABOUT THE END OF THE WORLD Kenton deAngeli

19 A Short Argument

Time-traveling Robot

Robyn Caplan

Rat King

Butterfl y

20 UXP18

Michele Rosenthal

26 Missed

Eleanor Brown

Living Bacteria

27 “Morgantown” Toney Palumbo

30 Jacob and Alex

Dog

Text by Paul Rome / Visual (p. 35) by Paul Rome and Roarke Menzies

THEMES EXPLORED IN THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV



TRAVEL / TRANSIT

ENDEARING NEUROSIS

all ( p. 27 ) — Espresso ( p. 27 ) — Microbrew ( p. 29 ) — Soy-based non-meat protein alternative ( p. 29 ) — Energy bar ( p.

Lois Farningham

B B L L AC N E AC K / SS K -

N O W BR

O SH RA ER NG BE E/ T

LL O W

EN RE G

31 The Walking Collective



COLORS APPEARING IN THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

36 Literary Fracktures Taleen Kalenderian

38 Pie in the Sky

SEVEN QUESTIONS YOU WILL BE ASKED IN THE BUSHWICK REVIEW ISSUE IV

Jenn Hyland

41 happytoeat.jux.com Crystal Heller

42 Untitled

Elephant

43 Tongues

when can i go to the liquor store and get a drink with my good looks? p. 17

Bryxan Amsterdam

44 Mikel Durlam Interviews Video Artist Salla Tykkä In His Mind Mikel Durlam

46 99th Dream/Lost REM and Date Request/ Impending Psychosis Phil Pierce

48 The Bee

Do these gloves come in a size that will fit my hands? p. 13

Asa Merritt

Bee



Spider

he’s gonna win / New York / anyway / right? p. 28

Are you scared now? p. 42

Do you know the Lugbara people’s mouse and elephant fable? p. 45

Where had [the bees] gone? p. 48

Oh gross, what is that? p. 50

Kristen Felicetti

50 Three Haiku About... Zachary Feldman

52 MakeUWaitAtCourtSq Tim Vienckowski

54 Visiting Phillis Wheatley

To experience The Bushwick Review IV as a map, visit tinyurl.com/tbr4map

Thom Smith

YOUNG CHILDREN

SHORT PLAY FOR TWO ACTORS

LOVINGLY HAND-DRAWN

BLEAK

8, 10 ) — Club soda ( p. 8 ) — Chewing gum ( p. 8 ) — Coffee ( p. 8, 10 ) — Water ( p. 8 ) — Nuts ( p. 9 ) — Chicken wrap ( p. 9 ) — Red Bull ( p. 9 ) — Red Bull vodka ( p. 9 ) — Veggies with

isha ( p. 8 ) — Za3tar with Labneh ( p. 8 ) — Jebneh and Ka3kaya salad ( p. 8 ) — Latte with sugar ( p. 8 ) — Almaza beer ( p.

dip ( p. 10 ) — Sweet crepe ( p. 10 ) — Taco Bell Meximelt ( p. 16 ) — Wine ( p. 19 ) — Spicy chicken strips ( p. 19 ) — Adde

The Beat of Beirut THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

 KATHLEEN FLOOD

I meet Mohamed on the plane.

pimp. He asks me if I need a taxi and

He looks like a slick asshole in his

I ask how much it will be to my hotel,

designer t-shirt, square-toed shoes,

roughly 10 minutes (in good traffic)

and baggy jeans. His blazer’s draped

away from the airport. He says $25,

across the seat in between us, but

but Derrick told me not to pay more

he does hold my lunch tray for an

than $12 so I compromise at $20. It’s

abnormally long time while waiting to

so weird they take American dollars.

hand it to the flight attendant, who’s

He leads me to another man and we

sloppily pouring tea for the mother

get in a taxi that has no side mirrors

across the aisle. I’m so excited upon

and no radio. He opens the front door

landing that I strike up a conversa-

and I figure that this is just what they

tion with him. He’s also never been

do in Beirut. I get in, my bags stacked

to Beirut and is visiting from Dubai

on top of me, and I breathe in the

for three days. He seems all right, he

clean, fresh air. Mountains on my

says he likes to go clubbing. He asks

right and ocean to my left. It’s been

me what I have planned and I ramble

four months since I’ve seen this many

off a couple museums, some gardens,

trees. I say, “I think I want to stay here

landmarks, and art galleries. We start

forever,” and glance down to see a

talking about art and when I tell him

license plate reading 812 — my lucky

that I like contemporary art he goes

number — in front of me. I reach to

off on how he thinks that modern art

put on my seat belt and the cabbie

is a marketing strategy and how he

tells me, “No need. There are no rules

likes the classics because those artists

here.” (I assume he means traffic

didn’t do it for the money. I sort of see

rules.) I laugh nervously and ask

his point, but I still disagree. The last

him how many accidents he’s been

straw was when I asked him if he liked

in. Twelve. He explains the different

to dance and he said no. Khallas.

neighborhoods we’re going though, and tells me that he’s 18 credits short

We land at 3:55 PM. I walk out of customs desperately seeking a bath-

from his degree in computer some-

room and I run into some sort of a cab

thing or other. We pull up in front of

and see bliss. I can tell why this was a notorious journalist enclave during the war. There’s a bar and desk sitting perpendicular to me with a couch, table, and chairs to my right. The bathroom’s on my left next to the door and the bed’s along the left wall across from my own personal balcony. The view, while only looking into a courtyard, takes my breath away. I throw down my luggage, change my shoes, and head downstairs again where I leave my key and exchange my Qatari riyals for Lebanese my hotel and he says, “I’d like to take

lira. Jad writes down the American

you to dinner.” I say I have plans and

dollar equivalent on my new money

he says, “As you wish.”

and I hit the streets. I’m overwhelmed

I walk into the Mayflower and

with the culture of Hamra. Rampant

meet Jad at the front desk who tells

graffiti, flower shops, running water

me that I’ve been upgraded to a suite.

in the streets, bullets still lodged

I give the outdated but charming

in cement block. I buy a carrot and

elevator a once-over before climbing

orange juice to tame my hunger

the four flights of stairs to 409, shove

until Derrick, a friend from college,

my anchor looking key in the door

collects me from the Mayflower for

dinner at 7 PM. Outdoor markets

is green. Things get blurry. Some

spill practically into the intersections,

version of “Blue Suede Shoes” and

everyone’s on foot — European style,

Dispatch’s “The General” play. We

Arabic undertones. I wander back to

anticipate every song. A sign over the

the Mayflower, but first stop in the

bar says “Attitude is Everything in

dark, wood-paneled bar where I sip

Life.” Fred goes to the bathroom, and

a glass of red wine peacefully. I’m

maybe it’s the cold medicine talking,

making friends with a gay man from

but Derrick asks me if I think he’d be

San Francisco when Derrick pops in.

good in bed. I say yes; I’m obviously

We give each other a huge hug. It’s so

attracted to him. I coyly ask him the

good to see a familiar face. We head

same question and he says that he’s

up to my room so I can shower... he’s

always thought that I would. The air

early... and I show him a few issues

thickens, my dulled senses perken.

of ABODE, the magazine in Doha

This could get interesting. I go to the bar to buy a round.

I’ve been working for. I put on a short skirt, without leggings for once(!) and

All the other men in the bar crowd

we exit into the twilight.

me and one of them asks if he can buy me a drink. I say no thank you.

THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

We walk around for a bit before finding an outdoor Lebanese cafe,

We leave at some point, and goof

Ka3kaya, where we order shisha,

around on the streets. We stumble

Za3tar with Labneh, and the Jebneh

into a brothel called the Rock Inn. It’s

and Ka3kaya salad to share. A

relatively deserted inside. Derrick,

mother, father, and daughter sit down

Fred, and I take turns pole dancing

next to us; they’re all wearing purple.

and someone at the bar gives us a

We talk about the city, Derrick’s

free round. Somewhere around 6 AM

school program, a condition he has

Derrick drops me off at the hotel, and

called synesthesia where he assigns

I sloppily ask him to come upstairs.

colors to his other senses. We finish

He says no because I wake up at noon

dinner and walk to his favorite cafe,

alone. I hate when that happens. I

where we order lattes with sugar to

get dressed and immediately go out.

caffeinate ourselves for the evening.

I buy a club soda and chewing gum

Derrick calls his friend Fred, who I

and head to the cafe where I sip coffee

kept wanting to call Frank, who is

and wait for Derrick. I take a few

an ex-Wall Streeter studying in Cairo

moments of fresh air before I start

on a semester study abroad program

smoking again. When Derrick arrives

in Beirut. Both boys are staying in

he announces that he found an apart-

the American Inn, across the street

ment. He’s relieved and cute and

from the American University. We

wearing a newsboy cap. I ask him why

go pick up Fred and head to the

he didn’t stay over, and he pretends

Captain’s Cavern, an expat-friendly

not to hear me. I drop it. We buy water and more cigarettes

hole-in-the-wall where Almaza beers are one American dollar. We take

and he gives me a tour of AUB’s

turns buying rounds and going to

campus. “A place where palm and pine

the bathroom. Derrick’s synesthesia

trees co-exist,” Derrick says. He leaves

comes up again and he tells me

me to enjoy the afternoon while he

that my name recalls a deep velvety

does work. I go back to the Mayflower

purple, almost black, but my energy

to take a nap, think about all the sex

I’m not having, then grab a map and

photographs of the school and tangled

iPod and make my way to the cor-

power lines. Derrick takes a picture of

niche. I sip a Red Bull, eat some nuts

me. We sit on his bed, and he shows

and listen while music plays for me:

me pictures of his summer in Greece.

“Purple Prose,” M. Ward’s “Shangri-

I leave to shower, he takes a nap. I go

La.” Derrick calls and I convince

to the hotel bar and order a Red Bull

the security guard to let me through

vodka, rinse repeat. Derrick comes

without a guest pass. I find Derrick

by the hotel and we take a cab to the

and his German friend, and we walk

Gemmayzeh district, a trendy part of town with a lot of bars. I buy a rose off a little boy because it’s about time. We quickly take a few pictures of the magestic, looming Mohammad Al-Amin mosque and I give the rose to Derrick who puts it on a truck. I hope we’re not splitting up a marriage. We choose the first spot for the crisscrossed alcohol racks above the bar and I order red wine. We talk about cheating in past relationships. Derrick tells me he was cheated on once... I tell him about meeting Brendan in Puerto Rico while I was still dating Charles. He doesn’t think I have bad karma coming. It makes me feel better at the time, but I know he was only trying to make me feel better. I tell him

to get chicken wraps. Everyone’s

about my first love, Joe. I think he

checking their e-mail. I get a message

understands because of Priya. At some point he tells me, “If we

from Charles, and it’s the first nice one since we’ve broken up. It’s hard to eat

dated I would know how to please

because I haven’t eaten all day.

you.” How do you respond to that? We leave and pass by a Sacred Heart col-

We go back to Derrick’s hotel room and listen to music while looking

lege, a sister school of my alma mater,

out over his balcony at all the noise

and we enter another bar. We drink

and people. The armed guards next

Almazas and watch football. We take

to the university’s entrance. I take

turns going to the bathroom to cough.

I’m quite tipsy at this point and tell

past the corniche onto some boulders

him that I came to Beirut with the

lining the water. I have to get into the

best of intentions, but that I was really

ocean even if only for a second. I sit

quite attracted to him (this was my

down on a rock, strip off my dress,

chance). He goes off on this tangent

and enter the cool, rocky-wavy water,

about how he doesn’t have casual sex.

I dunk myself and come right back up. It’s too rocky. A man 20 paces away tries to convince me to go swimming with him out beyond the rocks, where it’s smooth and unknown. I say no. “Maybe tomorrow?” he musters. I wander into a stationery shop where the proud owner shows me pictures of his father and his daughter’s law degree. I go back to the hotel and pack up. I smoke a last cigarette on the balcony, and leave the wreath of

THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

flowers on the door knob. I stow my duffel in locker 8 and check out. I go and meet Derrick back at the cafe where he’s telling young college I get it. Really, I do. It’s always a much

freshmen where they should look to

better idea to practice self-control

find a party pad. It’s hard to believe

rather than indulge fleeting fantasies,

that was us four years ago. We walk to

but it’s also terribly boring. We go to

his brand new apartment. Inside the

Rehab: a dark, glittery, Americana bar

entrance there are sherbet-colored,

where we drink more Almazas, eat

vintage cartoon characters painted

veggies with dip, and watch episodes

everywhere. I’m immediately jealous.

of “Tom and Jerry” almost in silence.

We’re sitting in his new room and he

We find Rob in a fancy cab and he

asks me what I want to do with my

takes us back to Hamra. We walk

last hour. I think I-want-to-fuck, but

down to the university strip where we

alas, we share one final drink. The

chow down on sweet crepes. Derrick

vibe is relaxed, friendly, Shakira’s

buys a wreath of flowers for me. He

“She Wolf ” (a really sexy jam) is

walks me home and we platonically

playing. When it’s time for me to

hug goodbye.

go, Derrick hails me a cab. On the

It’s morning, I go to the cafe again.

way to the airport, two men on a

This time I take my coffee to go and

moped drive up alongside the car and

grab a croissant. I spot a 30-something

ask if I’m American. I nod like an

hip couple and I ask to take their

idiot. One of the guys holds out his

picture on the way out. The man is

American passport and says “Let’s

from Syria. He agrees until I tell him

go to the fucking airport right now

the picture is for a Qatari magazine.

baby. You and me. I want to hit that

He doesn’t want his face to be seen

from behind. I’m not going to tell you

in the Gulf region. I understand more

you’re beautiful.”

than he knows. I navigate through

At least he’s honest about what

the school’s campus where I walk out

he wants. ⚫

Monsters of the Sea ï&#x201A;¿ REBECCA NISON

Saltwater

THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

ï&#x201A;¿ CLAYTON EDDY

Gloves  MATT COOK

Department store. A shopper, carrying a pair of gloves, approaches a clerk.

SHOPPER: Do these gloves come in a size that will fit my hands? You see, I am worried because I am noticing lately that I have very long thumbs and I am worried that the gloves may not fit on my hands because of my longer than average thumbs.

CLERK: These gloves are one-size-fits-all. SHOPPER: Would you mind qualifying that statement? I do not believe my thumbs to be precisely within the parameters of an ordinary thumb. Because of this, I am worried that the gloves — which I very much desire — may not be suitable for my irregular thumbs, themselves being of somewhat suspiciously larger dimensions than the average thumb.

CLERK: (blinks) SHOPPER: I am worried about these gloves. I am worried that the characteristics of these gloves may not be accurately represented. I am worried that when I bring them to my home to use my hands inside of, that these gloves may not fully encapsulate my hands because of my thumbs, as I am becoming more and more convinced that my thumbs may not be of customary proportions. Can you qualify the statement that these gloves are truly one-size-fits-all?

CLERK: These gloves are one-size-fits-all.

SHOPPER: I remain unpersuaded to purchase these gloves. To make a puchase of these gloves — which boast fitting all to one size — I must be assured comprehensively, that these gloves will fit over my thumbs, specifically. I do not believe that these gloves, nor their manufacturers, have taken into account my thumbs, specifically. You see, I am almost certain that my thumbs are uncommonly larger than the thumbs of an average person and require specific attentions.

CLERK: Your thumbs look like normal thumbs to me. SHOPPER: I understand that you believe that what you are saying is correct. Nevertheless, as you have previously failed to demonstrate the alleged properties of these intensely enchanting gloves to THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

me, I have decided that you cannot be relied upon as an entirely accurate source. I, however, have arrived at the conclusion that my hands — as well as my digits, particularly my thumbs — are incontrovertibly disproportionate to the thumbs of an average person! You see, this is precisely why I am worried about these gloves!

CLERK: Okay, so why don’t you just try the gloves on before you decide to buy them?

SHOPPER: I am worried about the gloves! I am worried that gloves will not fit onto my hands because of the irregularities in my thumbs, which I have been noticing as of late! You see, what sort of difference would it make if I tried them on before I decided to purchase these exceptional gloves?

CLERK: Because… then you’ll know if you want to buy these gloves or not?

SHOPPER: But I do want to buy the gloves! I came to this large department store to buy gloves that are one-size-fits-all because I need gloves that will fit my hands — and also, specifically, my non-standard, longer-than-average thumbs! You see, I am worried about these gloves not fitting my hands because of my thumbs. END.

Mouth Mountain ï&#x201A;¿ NICHOLAS BURGESS

america i don’t trust my parents they are so unhappy i’ll trade you sex r drugs for a good role model either this wallpaper goes or i do

america i’d rather be unwillingly ravished by a chevrolet factory worker than drive a ford

america coca cola is killing union organizers in colombia america your oil companies are burning down villages america iraq has made war criminals of us all

america i’m so bored! yr signifiers no longer match yr signifieds i think brad pitt is this paunchy old man and also if a taco bell meximelt ever looked like its menu picture i’d be fucking terrified

america i’ve given you all and now i’m nothing i think i’m addicted to Claritin D i have withdrawals they feel like having allergies i’d rather push a chevy than drive a ford

STOP THINKING ABOUT THE END OF THE WORLD

 KENTON DEANGELI

and then aliens finally do get here but like a week too late to enslave anybody

it’s your dreams, america one morning everything is blown up or zombified or fucked to death by a meteor or the nukes are falling like raindrops and the magnetic poles shift and the oceans rise and earthquakes score the continent and cults spike our water supply and we don’t even notice the time-traveling robots getting their asses handed to them by survivalists in kentucky or all the nanobots and then god comes back and was serious about all that weird shit at the end of the bible

america stop thinking about the end of the world, it’s not exciting, get up and go to work!

america these are my resources: 1.)sinking beneath the bathwater in bklyn to hear the rumbling of the subway creeping up thru the pipes 2.)a dear friend pulls me into the bathroom at a party, with drunk courage pulling out her false teeth to show me the ruin of her mouth. smiling, i lean over and kiss her 3.)a cock tumescing in my mouth, in the diffused white morninglight of our first and only gay experience, squinting upwards and gleefully calling him a faggot

america i lost my job i have nothing to give you when can i go to the liquor store and get a drink with my good looks? i get drunk everywhere i never get laid anywhere

america i’d rather be waterboarded by the ceo of the chevrolet corporation than get a job i don’t want another job i want an apology from the previous generation a generous trust fund for the world to spontaneously recognize some unique genius of mine and reward me accordingly and beautiful women with long legs to be attracted to me without having to try

america i’m putting my queer shoulder to the wheel

america i’m afraid: what happens when the world doesn’t end?

america i confess i dream about your legs i’m still in love with you, can’t you tell? the world’s not ending, just this one i know you’re afraid

america i’d rather be the last of two trapped on our fucked-to-death world with anyone remotely related to the chevy corporation than drive a ford!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i have a superlative resume and affectionate references i will work hard for you i will give you my time in exchange for money but you want my soul i can’t just work at starbucks i have to believe in fucking starbucks i can’t just spend 50 hours in a cubicle i have to attend birthday parties engagement parties show real team spirit hope they transfer someone cute from corporate so i can get married like giving up

america do we have the same dreams? about death, every night? i’m too tired to be terrified.

america i understand you don’t know what else to do so when everyone but you and your hot neighbor is raptured you don’t have to go to work there is no rule or law and they basically have to have sex with you because their wife is dead and they’re sad

THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

 ROBYN CAPLAN

—

rim

A Short Argument

“I was just so mad at you. I didn’t want to come inside.” The man’s voice pierces the dead air of the packed subway car. The girl mumbles something inaudibly in return. “I took one last sip of wine, and finished my cigarette. I put it out and then I came inside.” He’s arguing with her while holding a tray of spicy chicken strips, loosely covered with cellophane. She’s turned in his direction, her face hidden, leaving only a bobbing bun viewable through the throng of tired commuters. She mumbles something back. The man responds loudly: “Jesus. I didn’t do it because I didn’t want to. I knew you were going to say that. I knew you were going to step outside and tell me that it’s over.” A woman’s voice rings through the loudspeaker, “This is 1st Avenue.” As they exit the train, a strange man calls after them, “Stand clear of the closing doors.” ⚫

And Mymo, you should have seen the calcium formations on UXP211! Of course, with an atmosphere that toxic, there was very little chance of finding life. But I was able to send back some interesting readings.

UXP18

THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

BY MICHELE ROSENTHAL

pe, scra e p scra

Just...just a moment, Mymo. Pause transmission.

bfft

Hello?

tffb

Great cosmos, you scared me half to death!

THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

I scared you? What are you even doing here? UXP92 was designated for my curriculum. You must be on the wrong planet.

UXP92. Is that where I am? It’s been so long since I’ve heard the official planetary handles.

I don’t understand. What are you—wait, no. No, you can’t be. Who are you?

Name’s Doxel Forsa. Why, you’ve heard of me?

Heard of you? You were the reason I joined the intergalactic forces! The living bacteria you discovered on UXP18 changed my life! UXP18. I never want to hear that name again. Then you vanished, cut off all communications. And now here we are. Seven lightyears from home, and I’m meeting my hero!

I’m Tiggy, by the way.

Don’t get used to it, Tiggy. I’m leaving as soon as this conversation is over. I don’t have time for small talk, and I don’t have time to explore a planet that the intergalactic forces are already swarming.

But why? Why did you leave the forces? Why strike out on your own?

Because my career was over. They didn’t want me going back out into space; they wanted me to stay on Peltan, giving lectures on the bacteria of UXP18 for the rest of my life.

I’m not a teacher. I’m an explorer. That bacteria was the start of my career, not the end. I know there’s sentient life out there, we all do, but I’m going to be the one to find it.

You mean, will I share my findings with Peltan? No. No offense, but I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t do this for the intergalactic forces, or our planet. I do it for myself.

THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

And then what?

That sounds...lonely.

It wonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t be once I discover alien life.

Goodbye Tiggy. It was nice meeting you. Tell the intergalactic forces whatever you like...not that I can stop you anyway.

Resume transmission. Mymo...

...you wonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t believe what just happened.

ï&#x201A;¿ ELEANOR BROWN

“Morgantown”  TONEY PALUMBO

There is a patch of Bushwick, Brooklyn (or “East Williamsburg,” depending on who you’re talking to) no larger than a couple of square miles, that is so brimming with depraved Connecticut-bred nocturnal art fags frothing at the mouth in their own squalor while straining to aesthetically justify the existence of their “work” subsisting on three square meals a day of Adderall and espresso and living like desperate junkies by night as if to consciously negate the reality of paying for everything with unearned trust fund dollars that bring them equal parts comfort and shame; hairy nerds in openly derivative bands with discarded-Conan-O’Brien-joke names, half-starved after splurging sixty bucks for a U.K. pressing of some forty-year-old EP by a band you’ve never heard of and they’ll never spin, let alone remove from the shrinkwrap;

underaged, cock-hungry Beverly Hills J.A.P.s looking to “rough it” by abandoning their Sweet Sixteen-gifted BMWs to The Valley and embracing Factory Girl fantasies distorted by forty years of pretentious self-mythologizing; Nineteen year old vegan anarchist squatters accessorized with ‘Fuck The Police’ flair, who’ve avoided being jumped for their drug stashes thanks to increased law enforcement presence near the previously abandoned industrial block

THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

where the couch they crash on is located; apolitical permachildren whose last gesture of social awareness was ironically altering some stock image of Barack Obama they had proudly displayed back in ’08 until sleeping in too late on Election Day to squeeze in getting high before hitting the polling place and deciding not to bother, after all since there was probably a line at the elementary school and I mean, he’s gonna win New York anyway right?

Bleeding-heart crackers spouting off about their love for the diversity in the neighborhood, while pricing out local shops and long-time residents with their demand for microbrews, soy-based non-meat protein alternatives, five-dollar energy bars, and stimulant-boosted alcoholic beverages only legal until they catch on with the brown-skinned youths; and amoral Ayn Randian pseudo-intellectuals grasping at the mantle of “cultural critic” to make a dime off it all; that the holy hand of “The New York Times” was forced to christen it “the coolest place on Earth” or some such epithet too condescendingly self-absorbed to justify verifying the correct phrasing by conducting even a quick Google search on your iPhone.

tape here

fold here

THE WALKING COLLECTIVE fold here

LOIS FARNINGHAM invites you to join THE WALKING COLLECTIVE. every drawing received will be published in the online gallery at www.thewalkingcollective.com. attach paper to body and take a line for a walk by following the instructions below: >1 pull out the double page spread >2 attach the paper to yourself (blank side up) tape across the dotted lines provided.

using

>3 fold the ‘directions’ down to enable to read whilst drawing. >4 follow directions for walk to create drawing >5 add your own rule to the list >6 fill out participant info >7 fold up drawing into an envelope, add postage and send for t&cs visit www.thewalkingcollective.com ¤

you will need : ¤ an ink pen of any color ¤ some tape ¤ old clothes/board to protect clothes from pen bleeding through paper ¤ postage

FOR MORE INFO VISIT WWW.THEWALKINGCOLLECTIVE.COM fold here

fold here tape here

tape here

the walking collective: series #1

this way up

THE The WALKING Walking Collective COLLECTIVE

tape here

date: start location: end location:

tape here tape here tape here

tape here tape here

this way up

fold here

♦(add rule)

.......................................................................................................................................................................................

directions for exploration: ♦ on leaving the house, put pen to center of paper (attached to body),and keep pen to paper during entire exploration. begin by walking in the direction you would not normally go. ♦ walk until you feel comfortable. you are in a rhythm and are striding now. ♦ Turn around, Take 20 steps back, and take the next turn down a side street. ♦ Once on the street, if you feel at home, leave immediately, and choose a different route. seek out a place you have not been before. ♦ look for something strange, awkward, and uninviting. spend time there until you are at ease. ♦ now seek out a more strenuous climb. go for what feels like ten minutes. where to next?

fold here

tape here

f he old re

affix postage here

fold here

tape here

The Walking Collective PO BOX 110248 brooklyn new york ny 11211

tape here f he old re

INFO name: age:

email: â&#x2014;&#x160;

CONTACT DETAILS WILL BE NOT BE PUBLISHED.

fold here

occupation:

tape here

fold here

THE WALKING COLLECTIVE fold here

using

you will need : ¤ an ink pen of any color ¤ some tape ¤ old clothes/board to protect clothes from pen bleeding through paper ¤ postage

FOR MORE INFO VISIT WWW.THEWALKINGCOLLECTIVE.COM fold here

fold here tape here

tape here

oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-o oh-ohoh-oh oh-o ohoh o o

oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh o

yeah ba yeah b yeah yeah yea ye y The following poem, “Mobius,” consists of interlaced circular sentences. Here are those sentences, for your reference: • • • • •

A rose is a rose Once upon a time there was a story that began The man I love who doesn’t love Now it’s now S aying and what is said in it and what is to be said in

Mobius

 TALEEN KALENDERIAN

A rose is once upon the man now saying and Is a time I love it’s what is said A rose there was who now in it Is a story that doesn’t now and what is a rose Began love it’s to be said in.

THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah whoa who wh w

Literary Fracktures

oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh

Let’s Dance whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah,

i wanted to have tried it out we should been quiet about these our dances oh yeah baby c’mlet’sdance i was like let’s try this n that we can be real quiet about these our chances oh yeah baby c’mlet’sdance together in every tongue oh yeah baby c’mlet’sdance juntos en español, baby oh yeah baby c’mlet’sd oh yeah baby c’mlet’s oh yeah baby c’mlet’ oh yeah baby c’mlet oh yeah baby c’mle oh yeah baby c’ml oh yeah baby c’m oh yeah baby c oh yeah baby oh yeah bab

Medictation

whoah, oh-oh-oh whoah, oh-oh-o whoah, oh-ohwhoah, oh-oh whoah, oh-o whoah, ohwhoah, o whoah, whoah whoa who w

Pie in the Sky  JENN HYLAND

My brother has four daughters; the youngest is six and the oldest is twelve. Briana, the youngest, is a tiny ball of energy; she loves to talk, and talks to anyone that will listen. Her birthday is on Christmas, a fact that THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

she enjoys mentioning in conversations with adults. She loves telling people “I was a Christmas miracle,” and somehow knows that she needs an adult audience to get the response she’s looking for. Every morning her

improved if she could use an adhesive

wavy brown hair starts off in a tight

that worked better than Elmer’s glue.

ponytail, but by lunchtime, it’s a

She uses her glue gun in practical

mess of knots and frizz. Her chatty

ways too: after noticing that the sole

extrovertedness can be downright

of one of my combat boots was begin-

annoying, her sisters make that very

ning to talk, she offered to glue-gun

clear, but her big brown almond-

it for me until I could get around to

shaped eyes and squeaky voice tend

buying a new pair. For a six-year-old,

to reel you in and hold your attention.

she is quite serious about the integrity

Briana’s nickname is “Timothy,” after

of her art pieces and is constantly

the mouse sidekick in Dumbo, thanks

trying to find ways to make them

to her high-pitched voice and a minor

more exceptional. Given her tactful

ear malformation she got during birth

arguments that won her a glue gun,

that causes her right ear to stick out a

once her metalwork and welding skills

bit more than her left.

are developed a bit more, I’m sure her discussion with her father over where

Briana has called herself “an artist” for most of her short life. She

her metalworking studio will go will

works with various media — water-

cause some serious contention. Her sisters are creative too; their

color, acrylic, papier mache, clay, ink, pastels, and she is starting to dabble

interests range from fashion to

in photography and multimedia proj-

drawing to calligraphy. But they don’t

ects. Briana even owns a hot glue gun,

call themselves artists. Their father

which she acquired after repeatedly

used to call himself a graffiti artist in

suggesting to her father that the qual-

the late ’80s and early ’90s, but once

ity of her sculptures would be greatly

he had the worries and beer belly of

a dad, that form of self-expression

while you guys were at school.”

was forgotten. Every once in a while

“Briana, that’s not where Karun

Briana will pull out a large sketchbook

lives. You said she lived in a house,

and Sharpie markers and ask her

not an apartment.” “Yes, she does live

father to make her something that she

there! I’ve been inside!”

can hang on her bedroom door.

“Briana, Karun isn’t real!” “YES SHE IS! We hang out all the time!

Until recently, Briana was best

She doesn’t like you guys so we never

friends with an illusive figure named

invite you to hang out with us.”

Karun. Karun was always a hot topic

We were at a carnival once, seated

of discussion for Briana (actually,

at a picnic table eating corn dogs and

Briana would talk about Karun

cotton candy, and Briana announced

whenever she couldn’t think of

after a particularly long silence, “Hey

anything else to talk about). I learned

guys! That’s Karun over there!” She

from Briana that Karun was sixteen

pointed to a petite blonde in her late

and knew how to drive a car. This skill

teens sitting with a man and two

allowed Briana and Karun to take

teenage boys. My mother turned in

frequent trips to the mall together.

the direction that Briana pointed and

Although I knew that Karun lived with

asked, “Are you sure that’s her? You

her grandmother, Briana never made

didn’t tell us Karun was going to be

it quite clear where exactly Karun

here too.” Briana nodded her head

lived; whenever Briana and I were in a

intently, “Yeah that’s her Grandma.

car together, she would point out any

She didn’t tell me she was coming

house or apartment building that was

to the carnival today.” My mother

painted blue and announce that that

stood up as Briana’s sisters roared in

was where Karun lived. Briana’s ambi-

disbelief and annoyance. She walked

guity about Karun’s address (among

over to the table where the blonde girl

other things) led to quite a few heated

sat and we could see her chatting with

debates between Briana and her older

the family; they all looked over to our

sisters. Whenever her sisters would

table, to Briana, smiling.

argue that Karun didn’t exist, Briana

My mother walked back to us,

would vehemently defend Karun’s

and the blonde girl followed behind

existence.

her. When they reached the table, the

“Briana, you didn’t go with Karun

blonde smiled and said, “Hi everyone,

to the mall. We would have seen you

I’m Karun. Hi Briana, sorry I forgot

leave.” “Yes I did! She picked me up

to tell you I was going to the carnival

today.” Briana’s face lit up like the sky

a dripping acrylic heart in shades

on the Fourth of July. After a minute

of pinks, purples, and greens. In

or two of enthusiastic chatter from

the middle was a blatant vice-like

Briana, Karun walked back to her

C-clamp, its presence magnified by

family. “I told youuuuuu!” she sang

the use of a contrasting bright blue

over and over as she danced around

color. Briana stood in front of the

her older sisters.

piece for several minutes, inspecting the brush strokes, the dripping effect,

Over the summer I spent quite a

the clamp in the center of the heart.

bit of time with Briana. One morn-

While her older sisters finished with

ing, she walked into the kitchen and

the section and began sauntering into

presented me with a piece on drawing

the next room, Briana stayed glued to

paper. It was much larger than a

the Dine painting. A few floors later, we found an

THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

standard piece of paper, maybe 18" x 24", and compared to her usual

installation by Felix Gonzalez-Torres

drawings, it was particularly abstract.

— an enormous gold-beaded curtain

The white paper was covered in large,

separating two wings of the museum.

overlapping ovals of reds and oranges

We walked up to the installation and

in crayon, ink, and pastels. The over-

Briana asked hesitantly, “Is this art,

lapping of textures created a tunnel

Auntie?” “Yep,” I told her, “have you

effect into the center of the piece. If I

ever seen any art like this?” She shook

hadn’t known any better, I would have

her head “No.” I lifted part of the

thought Briana had copied something

curtain so that we could walk through.

out of a color field or abstract expres-

“Auntie, I don’t think you’re supposed

sionist coffee table book. Amused, I

to touch it.” I reassured her that we

asked her, “What is it supposed to be?”

were allowed to touch this particular

“Well Auntie, it’s not anything. I made

piece. Still unsure, she refused to

it for you. It’s called ‘Imagination.’

walk through the beads until a few

Your imagination isn’t a real thing but

groups of strangers did. Once Briana

this is what I think it would look like if

understood the installation was

it was a real thing. I wanted to do it on

interactive, she was enthralled by the

canvas but I ran out a couple of days

shimmering, sculptable curtain. At first, she only walked through

ago and it would’ve taken too long on

the curtain, back and forth, from one

canvas anyway. Sorry.”

side to the other. Then she paced

After this exchange, we decided that Briana might enjoy visiting the

the length of the curtain, her hand

San Francisco Museum of Modern

disrupting every strand of the golden

Art. The following day, I took Briana

beads. She walked the length again,

to her first art museum.

but this time in a repetitive S-curve pattern. When she got tired of going

There were two pieces to which I remember her being particularly

through the beads, she wrapped

drawn. The first was a painting called

strands around her wrist and neck,

“Blue Clamp” by Jim Dine. When

like jewelry. Before we walked away, she

we walked into the room, Briana advanced straight to it, even though

asked me to lift her up so that she

she passed several other pieces along

could touch the beads that no one

the way. The 7' x 8' painting was of

else could reach. ⚫

WWW.HAPPYTOEAT.JUX.COM

Blackness.

HE. I can’t believe how dark it is. SHE. That was why we came here in the first place. THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

HE. I took another girl here once. SHE. I was the one that took you here. HE. It’s so dark. SHE. You were scared if I recall. HE. I was definitely scared. SHE. But I liked that. HE. Yeah. SHE. … HE. … SHE. Are you scared now? HE. Well, it’s even darker than I imagined. SHE. Are you scared of her? HE. Carole? SHE. If she knew we were here. Like this. In the dark. HE. … SHE. … HE. Hold my hand. SHE. No. HE. Please? SHE. No.

 ASA MERRITT

ï&#x201A;¿ BRYXAN AMSTERDAM

Mikel Durlam interviews Salla Tykkä in his mind. Jes, “hell yes, that’s beautiful”, after seeing your work. How did you get THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

started in video?

ST: I read by candlelight nowadays. It helps the air indoors, especially as the days go on and when it gets too cold to find the motivation to open windows or to leave the house. I am reading the

MD: I knew that I needed to contact

accounts of men who have gotten lost

you when I was given the opportunity

at sea. Actual memoirs of days spent

to come here to Finland. I am new to

not knowing how long it’s been, and

being a video artist per se, but early

the sun and wind-blistered faces. The

desires for making video came from

common drying-out of survival at sea:

seeing your work when I lived in Jes’s

to become a small, time-blurred wafer

basement in upstate NY, you know,

on the surface of all the connected

and we traveled to Ithaca and I told

water of the planet. I have a question: why didn’t you actually contact me for an interview?

MD: I know, right?! In part I felt like I needed to be more impressive before you’d want to talk with me. And also I just never got around to it. I have been busy trying to get high school kids to act in a not-made-for-tv movie. …Do you ever think all of this is pointless?

ST: What, trying to make things? Of course. Especially when trying to make things without any apparent intrinsic value. But we are so small

still from Thriller, 2001

and we are all dying, so we are just

the elephant goes mad and dies. But

these small dying things really. And I

the story comes to mind because it is

find that affirming, like I can let go of

the mouse that survives. Being small.

grandiosity about myself.

MD: Thank you for this interview. I MD: Yes! I know what you mean!

really appreciate you talking wi…

By remembering how small and fleeting our time is, it is fucking beautiful

ST: You should’ve actually contacted

and liberating!

me. And forging my words and thoughts? Really? Fuck this noise,

ST: Do you know the Lugbara people’s

Mikel. But no, thank you though.

mouse and elephant fable?

 MIKEL DURLAM

MD: Actually, yes. ST: It is a somewhat gruesome tale of revenge in which a mouse defeats a clumsy elephant by crawling into its trunk and scratching and clawing until

99th Dream/ Lost REM (In Song Structure) Skin in the magnet of soft flesh Teeth that click and eyes that speak Velvet fingers turn the suicide wheel A glass eyed stare at your cold black hair

THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

But a turn’s a turn to sink the ship Cut lips and bruised hips But a turn’s a turn to sink the ship A sober shower for a stiletto heart Black leather on a blue moon Warm wool on naked skin A trusted verb on a lying tongue It’s a burning sun on a gin soaked cloud A burning sun on a gin soaked cloud But a turn’s a turn to sink the ship Cut lips and bruised hips But a turn’s a turn to sink the ship Resurrection dreams on silver screens Sin in the hearts of new lovers Glass on bodies and nails in the dirt A hiked skirt in a spider web dream It’s closed eyes that say yes Closed eyes that say yes But a turn’s a turn to sink the ship Cut lips and bruised hips But a turn’s a turn to sink the ship

Date Impen

Request/ ding Psychosis

 PHIL PIERCE

No tricks up my sleeve Just black coffee and a shaved face (Fresh! Clean!) I see a target with a black center A picture of a ghost’s face and Saturn’s moons There’s so much dust in the air Brown lightening across my face Do you see me? I see the tower of Babel from Brooklyn! We have a new language It’s written in gold Everyone can read it It’s a miracle! Signs and wonders Shining through my window pane It’s as bright as the goddamn moon! Can’t you see it? I have a letter for you Sara It states and I quote: “The earth is mostly water and the moon is mostly dust. I would love a drink with you in a dune buggy on the moon. We will need our space suits! If that’s not possible, I am sure we can decide on a less exotic location… The ball’s in your court honey.” “P.S. Please send your response via email. The postal service can’t be trusted these days.”

The Bee  KRISTEN FELICETTI

The hobbyist beekeeper noticed

louder than traffic, which could be

that the colony he had built was

heard in all of Manhattan and faintly

empty. Not one single bee lived there

in the outer boroughs. People ran in terror, some aban-

THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

anymore. This beekeeper had made the most luxurious home for his bees,

doned their cars. Men and women

architecturally modern and in the

vomited in the streets. “Hello!” said the hobbyist bee-

style of Le Corbusier. The walls were vertical beeswax sheets imprinted

keeper, who happened to be in New

with a tasteful, minimalist honey-

York catching a Broadway show. “Hey,” said The Bee. “Sorry about

comb pattern.

the small part of me that left your

At first the beekeeper was offended, but he soon learned that the bees had

colony. It had nothing to do with you

left not only his colony, but every-

or your place. I loved that place. I

where. No bees were left on earth.

especially admired the nod to early

Where had they gone? Some scientists

modernism in your design.” “I didn’t realize you had noticed,”

whispered “colony collapse disorder,” but few people understood what that

said the beekeeper, touched. A woman

meant. Instead they rejoiced at having

ran screaming past him. “People are

a bee-free summer, they frolicked in

afraid of you. They think you are

gardens, rolled around in flowers.

going to attack them, sting them over

They left sugary drinks out in the sun

and over.” “I am not interested in stinging

and wore bright yellow with abandon.

people over and over,” said The Bee. “I

The following winter it was first spotted in Manhattan, several

only sting when provoked. All I want

blocks south of Central Park. No one

to do is pollinate flowers and make

remembers seeing its formation. It

sweet, sweet honey. You feel me?” “I feel you,” said the beekeeper.

looked like a black cloud as wide as an entire avenue and as high as the

“Where have you been all this time?

area’s tallest skyscraper. Upon closer

Why are you back now?” “None of your bzzzzzness,” said

inspection, it was revealed to be a mass of millions of bees that together

The Bee and laughed for an awkward

had formed one giant bee. The Bee

amount of time. The beekeeper laughed for an

made an awful hum as it moved down

awkward amount of time too, until

Seventh Avenue. A hum that was

four army trucks pulled up into the intersection. Helicopters arrived and hovered over The Bee. Soldiers emerged from the trucks holding huge tanks of powerful insect spray, a special brand that had been manufactured by the government. Ladders dropped from the helicopters and more soldiers shimmied down the ladders, also holding the spray tanks. From all directions, the soldiers started spraying The Bee. The Bee’s hum grew to a roar and its shape contorted. It threw itself against the buildings. A fifth of its body dropped to the ground, mutilated, resulting in dead bees scattered all over the street. More people vomited. The Bee rose, injured, higher into the sky, so that the soldiers on the ground and even the ones in the helicopters could not reach it. “I have been provoked,” said The Bee. The soldiers stopped spraying when they realized they could not reach The Bee anymore. “I have been provoked,” The Bee repeated again, as if it could not believe it. “I have been provoked.” The soldiers, the beekeeper, and everyone else looked up at the black mass above their heads and awaited the consequences. ⚫

Love to wait in line and show people food pictures while I wait for food

Three Haiku About Food Trucks

◊ thousands on build-out permits up to your scrotum just to serve dicks food ◊ Korean tacos can be substituted for Mexican banchan

Oh gross, what is that? No way, you sit next to it Should it be moving?

Three Haiku About Germs

◊ It’s like, quivering. Did you see Contagion? It started like this. ◊ Wait just a minute I’m severely OCD That’s just a baby

Yes, I’m an adult

Three Haiku About Being Tucked Into Bed

I’m asking to be tucked in Don’t look in my eyes ◊ No really, I swear The eyes thing ruins the mood Then I start to cry ◊ Please just look away And tuck me right into bed Like a big, strong man

 ZACHARY FELDMAN

MakeUWaitAtCourtSq

THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

 TIM VIENCKOWSKI

Replies selectively

Your rating of him

100% Match 50% Friend 50% Enemy

Message

• • • • •

Save to Favorites Notes

MakeUWaitAtCourtSq

Hide

79 / M / Bi / Single Brooklyn, New York (2 Miles)

About

Photos

The Two of Us

Report

Personality

My self-summary I’m really bad at writing these sorts of things, so bear with me. I like to think I’m approachable and down-toearth. Actually, I’m below the surface of the earth, and approachable mainly at the center of the platform, so you might have to run (I’m short!). I’m a Westinghouse R68 model, built in France if that appeals. I try to stay shiny, but I don’t take myself too seriously. What I’m doing with my life Providing vital rapid transit service along the IND Culver and Crosstown Lines between Western Brooklyn and Northwestern Queens. Just looking for someone to come along for the ride.

His Details Last Online Today – 6:23am Ethnicity

Green/Silver

Length

4 cars

Body Type

A little extra

Diet

Mostly vegan

Smokes

If you see smoke, something has gone wrong

Drinks

Feel funny when they roll around on my fl oor

Drugs

Never

I’m really good at Accepting criticism, seeing in the dark, singing (ding-dong!) The first things people usually notice about me My reassuring wind, headlights twinkling in the distance, sometimes just a mysterious “clink” from somewhere in the tracks. Also my smile :-) Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food Books: Not much of a reader, but I do enjoy a good Poetry in Motion poster. Film: The Taking of Pelham 123 (scary!!!). Music: Tracy Chapman’s “Baby Can I Hold You,” as performed by my favorite grumbly busker with the electric guitar and jerry-rigged amp on wheels. Food: pierogies The six things I could never do without Laughter, honesty, toxic superfund canals, the TracVac, my connecting train wingmen (special shout-out to my bros A/C and L), the sinewy Pratt student and the lumpy, red-faced Polish man sharing a moment

Body Type

A little extra

Diet

Mostly vegan

Smokes

If you see smoke, something has gone wrong

Drinks

Feel funny when they roll around on my fl oor

Drugs

Never

Religion

—

Sign

Gemini and it’s fun to think about

Education

Dropped out of space camp

Job

Transportation

Income

Rather not say

Pets

Likes service animals, small dogs and cats in carriers only

Speaks

Spanish (Fluently), Bengali (Fluently), Hebrew (Fluently), Polish (Fluently), English (Okay)

Similar Users Luv2Party Brooklyn, New York more kinky

I spend a lot of time thinking about Rat kings, what Manhattan is like

JazzStandard New York, New York

On a typical Friday night I am Normally I’m shuttling revelers to and from their L transfer until the wee hours of Saturday, but I’m just as comfortable spending a quiet night in due to necessary track work.

High_Maintenance New York, New York

The most private thing I’m willing to admit Back in my heavily graffitied days, I may or may not have had a thing for the garbage train.

99_Problems Brooklyn, New York

less indie

more trusting

LilGuyInBK Brooklyn, New York

more old-fashioned

more literary

Flushing_WhyNot Queens, New York

I’m looking for • Buses, Trains and Ferries who like Trains who like Buses, Trains and Ferries • Ages 1–99 • For new friends, long-term dating, short-term dating, activity partners

more spontaneous

Ol_Rusty Brooklyn, New York less modern

You should message me if you think our tracks might align somehow. I’m no Acela Express, just an easygoing subway train with low ridership and a heart of gold, trying to find the Hoyt to my Schermerhorn.

ImproperTouch New York, New York

more desiring of sex

Visiting Phillis Wheatley  THOM SMITH

The most exciting modern building in the Gulf South was built and destroyed amid controversy. In 1954, architect Charles Colbert designed the Phillis Wheatley School, a segregated THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

public elementary school for black children in the historic New Orleans neighborhood of Tremé, and won national design awards for innovative design — in an unlikely place. Raised up above historic shotgun houses and Creole cottages like an urban treehouse on steel stilts, the cantilevered classrooms were designed to capture breezes and daylight and create a shaded play area for the students. The elevated building did not flood during Hurricane Katrina but remained closed afterward, and the school district eventually announced plans to demolish the school for a new facility. While regarded as perhaps the best piece of modern architecture

1 Phillis Wheatley School shortly after completion, 1957. Photo: Frank Lotz Miller, TimesPicayune 2 Last photograph of the school taken before demolition, fall 2010 3 First daytime visit of the school under demolition, 21 June 2011

THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

in the New Orleans area, the Phillis

and insensitive alterations, and

Wheatley School also symbolized the

condemned by indefinite closure after

inequality of public education at the

Katrina. A publicized last minute

end of the Jim Crow era, furthered

effort to stop demolition failed; the

by decades of poor maintenance

school district quickly razed the

decided it best to return during

building in June 2011.

daytime. The next day after work I

When demolition started I visited the site on my way home from being

took a friend to see the school. When

out, and after a frightening moment

I expressed regret that I never went

alone on the street at midnight I

inside, she suggested we break in and

look around (my friend is now study-

the last people to be inside the build-

ing law). We negotiated a chain-link

ing other than the demolition crew.

fence, walked past bulldozers and tall

The photos shown here were taken

piles of debris, and went upstairs into

that evening. Just two days later, most

the silent, empty classrooms â&#x20AC;&#x201D; likely

of the school was gone. â&#x161;Ť

who dat

THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV

BRYXAN AMSTERDAM Bryxan Amsterdam is currently studying words in Olympia, WA. They are one half of the ritual-electronics duo Thee Source. ELEANOR BROWN Eleanor Brown is a designer/ food connoisseur currently taking a break from Brooklyn to explore the world. She ended the summer with a short stint working at her bro’s ice cream shop, Little Baby’s in Philly. Looking forward to ceviche on her next stop, Peru! Follow her adventures on howcome imnotfatyet.blogspot.com. NICHOLAS BURGESS Nicholas Burgess is a painter and cartoonist working on weird figurative junk, imagined landscapes and narrative storytelling. His painting has been written up in the Boston Dig and the Jonestown Report. He posts comics Monday, Wednesday and Friday at nickburgess culturalmemorybank.tumblr .com. His fine art website is nicholasburgess.net. ROBYN CAPLAN Robyn did not submit a bio, so editor Kristen Felicetti is writing one for her: You know that sitcom How I Met Your Mother? There’s a character on it named Robin Scherbatsky, who kind of reminds me of Robyn Caplan, except that Robyn Caplan is funnier, smarter, hotter, and way more proud to be a Canadian. Also, she’s getting a Ph.D. soon, so be prepared to address her as Dr. Caplan.

MATT COOK Matt Cook is a writer/animator/co-creator of two web series, Nights in UltraViolet and Cafe Bloodbath. Matt lives in Brooklyn, drinks black coffee, and cannot fit under a couch. KENTON DEANGELI Kenton deAngeli lives in South Philadelphia. He misses you, and is available for readings and birthday parties. MIKEL DURLAM Mikel Durlam is an artist and musician who thinks he lives in Brooklyn, but he’s not around much lately. And most likely, he wants to collaborate with you. mikeldurlam.com CLAYTON EDDY Clayton did not submit a bio either, so Kristen is writing one for him too. Clayton is one of those people who is immediately good at almost anything he tries. Brew his own awesome homemade beer? Clayton’s done it. Join a band as its drummer even though he’s never played drums before? No sweat for Clayton (Crawl Babies — crawlbabies.bandcamp .com). He currently lives in Rochester, New York, where, as you read this, he probably just fixed someone’s car, then sculpted a piece of art from the leftover scrap metal, all while playing the theremin. LOIS FARNINGHAM Lois Farningham began her career in architecture and has since then city hopped her way through different

creative disciplines, namely set design in Glasgow and landscape architecture in NYC and Edinburgh. She set up a project space in Camberwell for crits, exhibitions, and parties. She is currently on her long arduous journey across the pond to NYC, where she intends to set up camp for a while and make some art. Her research focuses on crafting frameworks that activate people and material. For more information visit loisfarningham.com. ZACHARY FELDMAN Zachary Feldman is a writer by trade and a lover by design who does both with precision and care. He produces handcrafted small-batch bitters under the moniker Bitters, Old Men. You can read his work on the internet or in your mind’s eye if you squint really, really hard. KRISTEN FELICETTI Kristen Felicetti is the captain of this ship you’re sailing on right now, The Bushwick Review. Obviously, she lives in Bushwick, Brooklyn, the best and most beautiful New York neighborhood of them all. She also recently wrote and recorded The New York Crimes, a modern radio play, which can be heard at thenycrimes.com. KATHLEEN FLOOD Kathleen Flood is an Omaha native and current Bushwick (OK, East Williamsburg) resident. She is Managing Editor of VICE’s art and tech site The Creators Project. She dabbles in yoga, film, style blogging, and not giving a

fuck. “The Beat of Beirut” is an attempted chapter in a book she’d like to write about all the boys she’s fallen in love with. There are a lot. CRYSTAL HELLER Crystal Heller is back! A contributor to the inaugural The Bushwick Review #1, she is beyond ecstatic about contributing to The Bushwick Review #4. Trying really hard to split her time between Southern California & Brooklyn, New York — she is a writer, photographer, and social connector. But most importantly, she’s making sure she never forgets to eat. happytoeat.jux.com JENN HYLAND Jenn Hyland got her MA at The New School for Social Research in Manhattan. She lives in Bushwick where she’s an academic porn theorist, artist, cat enthusiast, and sometimes-maker of phat beats. TALEEN KALENDERIAN Taleen Kalenderian is a writer, artist and musician living in Los Angeles. Her writings and photography have been published in The Bushwick Review, theNewerYork Press, FILTER Magazine, SPIN, The Onion A.V. Club and L.A. Record. She is Director of Sales and Marketing at Narrow Books, and Editor of DUM DUM Zine, a literary journal she founded in 2011. ASA MERRITT Asa Merritt lives in Bushwick, writes plays and films, and is currently working his way through Harry Potter V

because somehow, back in the day, he got distracted by less important things. REBECCA NISON Rebecca Nison is an MFA Creative Writing candidate at The New School. Her fiction is forthcoming in PANK and Copper Nickel, and she’s currently writing a collection of stories about the many meanings of home. TONEY PALUMBO Anachronistic boozehound Toney Palumbo is either writing this at a bar or in the year 1974. He’s totally heard of that thing you love, but never really “got into it” like that. Mr. Palumbo currently resides on an unironically shitty block in Outer Bushwick and rarely sees the light of day. PHIL PIERCE Phil also dropped the ball on submitting a bio, so prepare for more biographical prose c/o Kristen Felicetti. Phil leads a very excellent band called Crawl Babies — crawlbabies .bandcamp.com. He is also a great conversationalist and one of my most fashionable friends. Seriously people, you have not seen a blazer until you’ve seen Phil Pierce work a blazer. PAUL ROME Paul Rome is a writer of fiction and performance literature. His work has been described by The Faster Times as “writing that dazzles,” by Bushwick BK as “endearingly neurotic,” and by Volume 1 Brooklyn as “sharp satire” that “glisten[s] with sophistication

and wit.” Paul lives in Bushwick, Brooklyn where he manages The Wyckoff Starr Coffee Shop and volunteers at Still Waters in a Storm, a community-based educational organization. His debut novel, We all sleep in the same room, will be published by Rare Bird Books in Fall 2013. MICHELE ROSENTHAL Michele Rosenthal is a Brooklyn based freelance illustrator and graphic designer. She runs on bright colors, good conversations, pretentious films, and a constant supply of tea. Her art stuff is at michelerosenthal.com. THOM SMITH Thom Smith is an aspiring architect and amateur photographer based in New Orleans. He served in Americorps with Rebuilding Together New Orleans to renovate Katrina-damaged houses for low income elderly and disabled homeowners, stayed in the Crescent City, and currently works at the design firm Concordia. He strongly encourages Yankees to come down and experience the enchanting, soulful place that used to be marketed as America’s Most Interesting City. For more images visit: fl ickr.com/ photos/tomtomklub TIM VIENCKOWSKI Tim Vienckowski is a left-handed, half-colorblind identical twin whose parents own five llamas, one of whom is miniature. The G train is his one true love.

“Suppose, instead of waiting for a job offer from The New Yorker, suppose next month, you go to your living room, sit down, and just do what you love to do. If you write, you write. You write a blog. If you shoot, find a friend, someone you know and like, and the two of you write a script. You make something. No one will pay you. No one will care, No one will notice, except of course you and the people you’re doing it with. But then you publish, you put it online, which these days is totally doable, and then… you do it again.” “Think about NOT waiting your turn. Instead, think about getting together with friends that you admire, or envy. Think about entrepeneuring. Think about NOT waiting for a company to call you up. Think about not giving your heart to a bunch of adults you don’t know. Think about horizontal loyalty. Think about turning to people you already know, who are your friends, or friends of their friends and making something that makes sense to you together, that is as beautiful or as true as you can make it.” “If you can… fall in love, with the work, with people you work with, with your dreams and their dreams… Believe in your friends. Believe that what you and your friends have to say… that the way you’re saying it — is something new in the world.”

Robert Krulwich Excerpts from a commencement speech to Berkeley Journalism School’s Class of 2011

COLD BEER & SODAS COFFEE TEA & CHOC.

G RA

CO NEWSPAPERS

ND IE

K O S OK _K CS OK K Z _U _ SO OK _Z CS OK K I S U IC SO Z _ SU IC U _K ZS K O

H OT &

OL D

ES CH WI

R PE

ND CA

C &

SA D OL

EN AP

OC FF EE T AE & C

RE &

NA ID

& OC

CO OC .

s) Ie Z CIGARS & CIGARETTES en m al e Th k n r a se o r ro h e IT e l h (w h IT and kI Ic sm ws m m ko o nc Th VIe TIm

& H

K K OS K OS K K OZ C _ K OS _ U_ K OS Z K OS CI _ O C U S I Z C U _ I S U K S _ Z K O

e Is ha n F od Flo lo ac sT e n e Z rI e r k Thl elle ka sTal h y r c J e n n O Kh y l a n d K T a l _eUKCSeS On kalenderI an a s a _ _ ZSOOKK m _Z e K re S C Or ZUI SOK r I T T B _ T e SUIC SOK o I Ca p a p h n e O_KKZc S Uc nI y u Il so l p I pa l n r u e CI o r GA m Bo RS m c & e e CI

ri yx n el an ea am g : sT no er nI da chr Br m o ro l ow n By a s m B ur a n g ke TT ca c pl ess n m To oo an k c Ik n la el d ea y d n To u g el n rl e am I d d y

c lI

EE R

SE ID C

EP AP SW EN

CANDIES

HOT & COLD SANDWICHES

d el

_KS _UC OK SOK _ZO K _ _ZU ZSOK _KS ICSO OKZ UICSO K SUI K CSO K

K_ KOS U_ C KOS _ KOZ _ Z KOS IUZ_ C KOS IUSK_ O C KOS IUSZK C KOS

PA HOT & COLD SANDWICHES

K S O K KOS _ C KOZ U_ _ KOS Z_ K O S C KOS IUZ_ C KOS IUSK_ CIU SZK O

SETTERAGIC & SRAGIC

CANDIES

NEWSPAPERS

OC GA

ES COLD BEER & SODAS

COFFEE TEA & CHOC.

COLD BEER & SODAS COFFEE TEA & CHOC.

I AG

CO NEWSPAPERS

ND IE

K O S OK _K CS OK K Z _U _ SO OK _Z CS OK K I S U IC SO Z _ SU IC U _K ZS K O

HO T &

PA HOT & COLD SANDWICHES

KOS K KOS _ C KOZ U_ _ KOS Z_ KO S C KOS IUZ_ C KOS IUSK_ CIU SZK O

SETTERAGIC & SRAGIC

CANDIES