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NEWSPAPERS
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2013
1
THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV spring/summer 2013 Copyright © 2013 the authors Design by Tim Vienckowski
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.
2
3
RP
D
PU
RE
SI
6
NK
LV E
HI
TYPES OF CREATURES MENTIONED IN THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV
PI
TE
Table of Contents
LE
Carrot ( p. 7 ) � Orange juice ( p. 8 ) — Red wine ( p. 8 ) — Shi
R
W
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
YE
G
O
LD
LL O W
EN RE G
BL
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
UE
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
6
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
7
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
8
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.
9
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. ⚫
10
Monsters of the Sea ï‚¿ REBECCA NISON
11
Saltwater
THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV
ï‚¿ CLAYTON EDDY
12
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.
13
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.
14
Mouth Mountain ï‚¿ NICHOLAS BURGESS
16
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
17
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
18
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
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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.” ⚫
19
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.
20
bfft
Hello?
tffb
Great cosmos, you scared me half to death!
21
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!
22
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.
23
You mean, will I share my findings with Peltan? No. No offense, but I don’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 won’t be once I discover alien life.
24
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 won’t believe what just happened.
25
ï‚¿ ELEANOR BROWN
26
“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;
27
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.
29
30
tape here
tape here
tape here
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
tape here
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31
the walking collective: series #1
this way up
THE The WALKING Walking Collective COLLECTIVE
tape here
date: start location: end location:
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tape here tape here tape here
tape here tape here
this way up
fold here
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♦(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
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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—Š
CONTACT DETAILS WILL BE NOT BE PUBLISHED.
fold here
occupation:
tape here
34
tape here
tape here
tape here
tape here
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
tape here
tape here
35
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
36
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
M
M
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E
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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
M
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37
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
38
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
39
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. ⚫
40
WWW.HAPPYTOEAT.JUX.COM
41
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
42
ï‚¿ BRYXAN AMSTERDAM
43
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
44
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
45
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
46
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.”
47
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
48
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. ⚫
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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
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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
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MakeUWaitAtCourtSq
THE BUSHWICK REVIEW IV
TIM VIENCKOWSKI
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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.
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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.
53
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
1
2
3
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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
56
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
57
58
59
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 — likely
of the school was gone. ⚍
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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
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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
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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
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