The Comet - May 2023

EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE

EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE

everything will be fine

THIS issue

editor: Ron Evans

contributors: Sarah Sims, Cory Calhoun, Jamie Howell, Christopher F. Hart, JessicaDawn.Co, Anna Spencer, Meg Kappler, Holly Thorpe, Mike Irwin, Susan Lagsdin, Moxie Rose

Thanks to our Co-Pilot Patreon supporters: Sandi Bammer and Erin K! Contact: thecometmagazine@gmail.com

crossword..................................PAGE 7

moon patrol............................PAGE 8

jacob towne.............................PAGE 12

vampires in the valley............. PAGE 14

ARTBEAT MAGAZINE.....................PAGE 19

the state of star wars....... ..... PAGE 23

cascadia field guide ...................PAGE 24

may events.................................page 28

cum on barbie................... ........ PAGE 30

everything is fine.....................PAGE 34

star bitch...................................PAGE 38

issue #55 - may 2023

Sage Grouse by Emily Poole for Cascadia Field Guide

COMET HEADQUARTERS

Greetings,

SO…am I the only self-employed human that HATES working from home? I feel like a whiner even mentioning it. I remember not all that long ago thinking that working from home (no matter the work or the industry) would be living the dream. And there are certainly great aspects to it. Like typing a letter from the editor with nothing but a beanie on, for examp. Stop picturing it! Pervert…

The pandemic closures gave a lot of people glimpses into working at home - and many seem to have found their paradise, and I get that. I’m honestly shocked how much I hate it. Because I also hate most people. Ok, not MOST…well, actually yeahmaybe most. But aside from the distractions of needy pets, piles of household chores you could be tempted to do and Netflix (read: PornHub) always singing its sweet siren song - there’s an element of energy and collaboration that I miss when I’m working alone at home all day.

And I don’t get lonely. Like…ever. I’ve been called a sociopath because of that. But really I just get so lost into my work and projects (and the cartoonish voices I say out loud to myself) that I don’t really notice the fact that I’m alone. Except when it comes to missing that indescribable element of having co-workers around. And I know… some co-workers are literally the worst. But even they can sometimes propel you into a productive mood or zone that you wouldn’t quite catch when left to your own devices.

There’s also something oddly motivating about working around and in front of other people. This is why so many people like to take their laptops to coffee shops, shaded parks and (if you’re like me) bars. 90% of this magazine gets written and built at the Hellbent Taproom at Pybus - USUALLY while wearing clothes. And it’s not really a practical way to work. Booze, noise, people wandering up and interrupting you while saying they don’t mean to interrupt you, etc. But this is all part of what I like about it. There’s energy. There’s life. There’s an opportunity to run ideas by others - or scheme brand new ideas altogether. Collaboration can often be as simple as an offhand comment someone makes that sparks an idear in your brain.

I know there are a few co-working spaces around and I think that’s a great option for people who want out of the house for working, having meetings and plotting collaborative doings. The price points vary and often they aren’t quite right for individuals like myself.

I have thought about renting some downtown space to set up a proper Comet office/ workspace but I feel like I’d still spend most of my time (and money) out and about to capture some of that out and about creative energy. A friend of mine - who also tends to bring her laptop to the market to work - and I were talking about the idea of ‘working’ meet-ups much like writers, college students, gamers and guys that like to talk loudly about stock market shit often do. I think it would be a fun experiment at the very least. And a nice break from cat barf. I know, I mention cat barf a lot. We write what we know, after all.

We will let you know if we decide to try to get something like that started - or you can let us know if there’s already something like that in the works. Hmmm. That’s not a bad title for the group - In The Works.

Drunk At 3pm Club also fits. Beanies optional.

Happy Trails, Ron Evans Editor of The Comet

At my “office” with my thinkin-helmet on. Helmet by Suzy - shirt by Kenny Rogers

CORY "DAMN YOU" CALHOUN'S

PU Z Z LE CORNER

CSCXWORDS@GMAiL.COM

This month's meta is back to the standard 15x15 size, unlike the super-size 21x21 Sundaystyle grid from March. This one should hopefully play easier (or at least rely less on an encyclopedic knowledge of geography) than the last one ... though it's still tricky, as usual!

Enterforachancetowina customanagram-themedprize bysolving2023's3rdmeta crossword! HOW TO ENTER: 1. Solve the crossword on this page. 2. Solve its meta puzzle (for tips on how, visit tinyurl.com/corymetas). 3. Email just the meta puzzle answer to the hint (don't send the solved grid!) to cscxwords@gmail.com by 11:59pm PT, May 21, 2023. (One submission per entrant, please.) We'll randomly pick a winner from the correct entries and announce the winner and puzzle answers in the next issue. Goodluck!

"TOSSED NOODLE SURPRiSE"

HINT

ACROSS

1. Expressing one's thoughts

8. Brief, casual relationship

13. Like some confrontations

14. Oscar the Grouch's pet worm

15. * Bad-mouths

16. * "Stranger Things" sheriff

17. Computer character code

18. Remote button

20. Venue capacity acronym

21. Salon supply

23. Flying start?

26. "I hate this!"

29. * Retouches, as a photo

35. Gambler's marker

36. 2018 Super Bowl number

37. Nine, in Nicaragua

38. Motorcycle, slangily

39. * Invalidating a contract

42. Fabrication

43. China's Chou ___, 1972 host to Nixon namechecked in "We Didn't Start the Fire"

45. That, in Tijuana

46. NHL team from a Great Lakes state

47. * Downpours

50. Dan Blocker's "Bonanza" role

51. So-so

52. Battery size

54. Near Eastern honorific

57. Unfeeling

60. Brown ermine

64. * Yearning

67. * Union

69. Showily decorated

70. "Let's play some cards!"

71.Devises

72. Steeringclear of

DOWN

1. Notes between "fa"s and "la"s

2. Audio equipment maker whose name sounds like wood

3. When vampires are active

4. "It's ___ for!" ("I love it!")

ANACROSTIC CHALLENGE

5. Suffix with "meteor"

6. Standard

7. Christian savior, to an Italian

8. Rapper ___ Rida

9. Piercing target, often

10. Little devils

11. ___-do-well

12. Greek sandwich

13. Airport screening org.

14. Like some lingerie

19. Bar bill

22. One of "Better Call Saul"'s Salamanca brothers

24. Ladder part

25. Corvallis-based college, briefly

26. Belly-___ (complainer)

27. Actress Mitra whom Lara Croft was modeled after

28. 2003 Affleck/Lopez flop

30. Threequel indicator, often

31. Bull ___ (rodeo contestant)

32. Prefix meaning "sun"

33. Contents of Pandora's box

34. Gardener's purchase

39. MasterCard alternative

40. Belief system

41. Astronaut's org.

44. Get ___ (flunk)

46. Question ending many a riddle

48. Bit of color

49. Tulsa sch. named for a televangelist

53. "You can't make ___ purse out of..."

54. Each

55. ___ Scout cookies

56. "Pitch Perfect" actress Kendrick

58. Sobriety-behind-the-wheel org.

59. Salad-dressing cheese

61. What oranges and melons each have that limes and plums don't?

62. "Can I bum ___ ?" (smoker's ask)

63. Perfect score, often

65. Gandalf portrayer McKellen

66. "Personal reminder," in texting shorthand

68. Fond du ___, Wisconsin

CLUES: ANSWERS: CLUES (cont.): ANSWERS (cont.):

Java'03WillFerrellcomedy 1683122377

LouvreoeuvreMonopolytoken 34121930340

UnrulycrowdExploit 102420173511

KindoftubeApparatus 1325294296143

BrinkApex 26142139444

Twotruthsanda___Camerapart 41281532453818

CabinetwoodOrigamibird 546227333623

QUOTE: '

1234567891011121314151617181920212223

2425262728293031323334353637383940414243444546

LAST iSSUE'S SOLUTiONS

CROSSWORD

DOUBLE ANAGRAM CHALLENGE

Theme: Things you sit on. ANOTHER - A = THRONE, FOAMS - M = SOFA, WEPT - T = PEW. Leftover letters anagram into MAT

WORD SQUARE CHALLENGE

: Find the first name of a classic American literary character.

@MOON_PATROL

MEET THE BOARD:

An interview with Jacob Towne

By Holly Thorpe

Jacob Towne is the newest Write on the River board member. This May, he will be leading a new event for writers with works in progress.

In this interview, he discusses his writing career, his current reading and his upcoming Write on the River event.

About Jacob Towne

Towne grew up in the foothills of the Palouse in Northern Idaho. He currently works at the Columbia Basin Conservation District in Moses Lake as their Communications Coordinator.

In his professional life he plans outreach events, writes grants, manages social media, and reports on conservation programs. In his personal time, he enjoys writing essays, photography, reading, cooking, hiking, and playing music. If he’s not at home curled up with a good book, he can usually be found on a mountain or in the field with his partner Ron and their dog Darwin.

How long have you been writing and what would you consider your main genre?

I have been writing since I could put crayon to paper. My earliest memories are of me writing about the fantastic adventures I had with my siblings and friends and drawing the maps of the places we visited. Truthfully, as an essayist, nothing has really changed, except I’m not too keen on using crayons these days.

How does the rest of your life - work, play, family - inform your writing?

Creative nonfiction is my bread and butter. I find that the truth, whatever that looks like, is oftentimes the most interesting thing you can write about.

In my work at the Columbia Basin Con-

servation District, I focus on stories of compelling on-the-ground conservation. In my personal life, I generally focus on observing the world around me, how I fit into it, and how other people fit into my own life.

What moved you to join the Write on the River Board?

I grew up in the foothills of northern Idaho, cradled between the ridges and farmland outside the Palouse. As an aspiring writer, I cleaved to my teachers and local librarians, and read voraciously. I didn’t have a program like Write on the River that fostered the creative outlets of youths and adults. So, when I moved to Moses Lake and found a thriving writing community, I was immediately interested in joining.

What are you reading these days?

I like quiet literature; books that don’t kiss on the first read through. I’m currently reading A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers for the 4th time. I’m a seasonal reader, and I read certain books during certain times of the year (East of Eden in the Spring, Wildwood in the Fall, Life of Pi in the Summer, and American Gods in the Winter).

It’s comforting visiting old characters and friends, and I always find something new after each read through.

What’s your current work in progress?

In a twist of fate, I don’t have a current work in progress. I finished up a first draft for a middle-grade fantasy novel, but I’ve decided to let it sit for a few months before picking it up again. In the meantime, I’ve been playing around with a few characters and scenes, and playing a lot of solo-writing games.

What advice do you have for other writers working on their own WIPs? Writing is a solitary affair, but my best advice is to find someone to do it with. Be alone, together. Try to find a small group or just a writing partner and set time aside for yourself to work on whatever project it is you have on and do it together.

Tell us more about your WIP event that’s coming up. What can people expect? Who should come?

It’s called WIP IT: a Writer’s Roundtable

for Works in Progress. People can expect a lot of open discussion and guided conversations where everyone will have an opportunity to talk about their current projects and troubleshoot any issues you may be experiencing in the writing process. If you have been stuck on a project or simply want to brag about your most recent accomplishments, this is the event for you.

Anything else you’d like to share?

I’m excited to be more involved in the writing community in North Central Washington and look forward to serving on the Write on the River Board.

Coming up: Boost Your Writing Chops with Kay Kenyon

Thursday, May 11, 5-6 p.m.

Online via Zoom - Free for WOTR members, $10 for non-members

Drop in on this bi-monthly fiction chat with novelist Kay Kenyon for sessions on skill-building, basic and advanced how-tos, and the writing life. Over a 20+ year career in novels and short stories, Kay will demystify writing issues and the common strategies fiction authors use.

WIP IT: A Writer’s Roundtable for Works

in Progress

Saturday, May 13, 5-6 p.m. Online via Zoom - Free for WOTR members, $5 for non-members

This roundtable for writers will have guided conversations and open discussions with an opportunity to talk about their current projects and troubleshoot any issues they may be experiencing in their writing process.

Join Write on the River Board Member Jacob Towne for this fun and lighthearted discussion designed to highlight and showcase other writers’ on-going work.

To learn more about Write on the River, become a member, or register for events, visit writeontheriver.org.

Membership is $35 per year, and offers free or discounted access to all WOTR events. Questions?

Contact info@writeontheriver.org.

For as long as I can remember, a cross has shone from the hills above town, though they used to only light it on Christmas, Easter, and the 4th of July. Before that, in the not-too-distant world of the 1920s, the KKK dug a trench in the hills above our town that they filled with flammables and lit on fire as a not-too-subtle message about who they felt belonged here. The current cross on the hill shines a similar message of possession, rather than protection, no matter what they tell you.

“Hey there.”

As the sun slips behind the valley’s western hills, summer’s blast-furnace heat slowly gives way to other, subtler dangers. Though Wenatchee has grown considerably in the past decades, it’s still small enough that the evening hours provide little in the way of entertainment for the youth beyond the age-old pastimes of drinking, dancing, and trying desperately to find someone to join them in the horizontal mambo.

Though I enjoy drinking and dancing as much as anyone, I’ve never quite understood the desperation. People, especially straight men, are easy. Go out, find one you like, and chances are good they’ll get horizontal with you.

I cross the dark parking lot by the train tracks, clutching my tiny purse in one hand and keeping my short skirt from flying up with the other hand as a wave of too-hot night air rolls along to remind me that I have only a few short hours reprieve from the oppressive presence of the summer sun.

I descend the steps of the bar, down into the basement of a 100+ year-old fruit storage shed that now holds the sweaty, undulating bodies of Wenatchee’s youth. Perhaps on another night, you’d find a more balanced mix of ages, but tonight the bar holds their “10 drinks for $10 dollars night”, where patrons have between 10pm and midnight to consume their 10 drinks. As a rule, I won’t eat any food a menu dares me to eat (Consume a 74” 12-topping pizza and your whole meal is free!), but generations of my alcoholic forbears whisper to me that I can’t pass up such a great deal.

My friends and I have gone before to the 10 drinks for $10 night, but we’ve never managed to drink all 10 drinks in that two-hour window. Tonight, one of my friends has a system. We’ll take a shot every 12 minutes and in between just constantly drink water. I’m excited to participate…you know, for science.

I check the watch on my phone, seeing that it only reads 9:45 pm. Good, I have plenty of time to get my wristband and start drinking water. The man attempting to lean casually on a stool by the door aggressively examines my ID when I hand it to him. I play the game, politely smiling rather than rolling my eyes at his pretended nonchalance despite the fact that I’ve looked well over 21 since I was 12 and his eyes are practically falling out of his head at the display of nubile flesh swirling about inside the doorway he guards. He lets me through and stamps my hand. Exiting his small sphere of power, I roll my eyes and head for the bar.

I offer a genuine smile to the bartender. She can be a bit frosty, and some of my more sensitive male friends think she’s a bitch, but if you tip well and don’t cause trouble during her shift, she’ll have your back. She gives me a small nod of acknowledgment as she goes about taking money, dispensing wristbands, and making drinks.

The music pulses through and around me, synchronizing the heartbeats of the crowd and aligning us into a single entity. Whatever concerns we have outside this bar, beyond the confines of the night, here we share in a single purpose, a communal desire to be brazenly and desperately alive and nothing else. The beat, the lyrics, both speak to our base and carnal desires, “Face down, ass up, that’s the way I like to - “

Ugh. I turn to the man standing too close to my right shoulder. He’s smooth and handsome with bright white teeth in a tanned face. Standing so close to my shoulder, he smells oppressively of coconut with something else beneath the tropical scent that I can’t quite identify. An olive green t-shirt that looks painted on over well-defined muscles is tucked into an equally tight pair of Wranglers, leaving little to the imagination. A large, shiny gold belt buckle studded with turquoise draws the eye like a modern codpiece. He’s practically a Wenatchee wet dream come to life. I nod without speaking and go back to waiting for my turn at the bar.

Sadly, he doesn’t take the hint. They never take the hint, “Look, I’m sure you’re very nice, but I’m not interested. There are going to be lots of drunk girls here tonight. I’m sure plenty of them will be interested in what you’re selling, but I’m not.” I see the tiniest ghost of a smile sketch over the frosty bartender’s lips, so I know she’s heard me. Maybe this is why we get along.

He steps involuntarily backward. The direct approach is always a risk. The truly predatory douchebags may bluster a little, but they realize they’ve chosen a bad target and move on to sulk somewhere and repair their egos. The nice but awkward men laugh, say they really just wanted to talk, and usually end up being somewhat interesting or at least tolerable. The real danger is in the stalkers who get off on rejection. The more you rebuff them, the harder they chase. I’m here to meet male friends though, so a stalker should only be an annoyance tonight, not an actual danger.

Slow and predatory, a smile replaces his look of affronted shock, “I love a challenge.” Great. A stalker.

Finally it’s my turn, and I hand the bartender a $10 and a $5, “No change” I shout over the music as she fastens a band around my left wrist. I feel someone standing close behind me and turn to see the friends I’ve come to meet, the friends I’ve come to drink for science with. After hugging and greeting my friends, I notice that the smooth cowboy from the bar has gone, melted away into the crowd where I can’t see him in the lowceilinged room. Still, my gut tells me to watch out. The stalkers never know when to give it up. They’ll follow their dicks right into a faceful of my roommate’s shotgun, but that’s a story for another day.

Laughing and taking shots every 12 minutes when the timer on my friend’s digital watch beeps at him, nearly an hour passes before the smooth cowboy makes another appearance. He looks just as polished and confident, and just as sober, as when I first met him, but there’s something unusual about him. Not the failure to take a hint or the desire to pursue where his attentions aren’t wanted. That’s all pretty standard operating protocol for straight men. There’s something else there, something 5 shots of straight liquor in an hour prevent me from putting my finger on.

He sidles through the crowd, appearing once more at my right shoulder, still smelling of coconut and that indefinable something. “Hey, pretty lady.”

I sigh, rolling my eyes and my friends laugh. We called my grandmother Hurricane Helen, and though I may have only reached the power of a tropical storm, I am no less a force of nature when I want to be. “Piss off pal.”

He does not piss off.

This time he doesn’t seem surprised. He looks more delighted than anything, until I decide that this calls for stronger measures, and I do something again that he doesn’t expect. Making hard eye contact, staring deep into him as though I could read his soul, I ask, “So what’s your deal? What do you want? What’s so important that you felt interrupting my evening with my friends was an appropriate course of action?”

He stares back at me. They often do. The ones who look away usually have something they’re ashamed of, something they want to hide. Shame is dangerous, so this is a positive sign. Seconds pass and two lines of confusion appear between his eyebrows.

“Well? What’s so important that you needed to say? Or did you just want to stare at me? Because you’re welcome to stare at me from across the room. You don’t need to talk to me if all you want to do is stare.”

“I…um…this isn’t how girls usually react to me.”

My friends, half drunk behind me, giggle again. At least someone is enjoying the show. I smile internally, emboldened by their amusement and the liquor I’ve consumed. “Look, you really are a very pretty man. Your abs are very nice, and I’m sure if there was a power outage and I needed to do laundry, you’d be really handy to have around, but unless you have something substantial or intriguing to say, I’m not interested. Again, there are lots of very pretty drunk girls here tonight, and I’m sure any one of them will give you the reaction you’re looking for. I suggest you go try your luck with one of them.”

Our eyes remain locked, as if he’s used to drilling his gaze into people and bending them to his will, and he doesn’t quite know what to do when his gaze encounters my wall of arrogance and bravado. “I…I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Rolling my eyes, I break our eye contact, “Then you must not get out much.” I glance sidelong at my friends and see them shaking with poorly suppressed laughter.

“Take a hint, my dude. Save your dignity and walk away,” my friend Allen says through his laughter, though his tone and words aren’t unkind.

At this point, most men crack under the pressure and reveal some deep-seated truth about themselves, or they leave me alone. Not smooth cowboy. Though he succeeds better than most at remaining calm, I can almost feel him drawing a protective cloak of predatory rage around himself. At my friend’s words, he seems to remember that I have witnesses. He nods his head silently, a gesture perhaps meant to imitate acquiescence or defeat, though only a fool would fail to recognize that this man doesn’t accept defeat. He melts once more into the press of youthful flesh undulating to the beat of a popular song.

Though I’m glad to see him go, I know he won’t stay gone. Men generally are terrifying, but the really scary ones suffer from a special kind of stupid because they fail to clock that I, too, am a threat. I’m a young, blond-haired, blue-eyed, relatively attractive white girl. I may not love that society values me for my breeding potential, but I’m entirely willing to use that misplaced overvaluation of how I look as a weapon of revenge against predatory men. Attack me, kill me, and the Dateline episode they make about me will probably ruin your life even if you don’t go to jail. Plus, I always carry a knife.

Smooth cowboy only left because of my male friends, though. He’s out there, biding his time and waiting to separate me from the herd. I don’t see him, but I can feel his eyes on me, feel my skin recoil under the weight of his regard. ***

The time until midnight passes in a loud, pleasant blur of alcohol, laughter, and bathroom breaks. We take our shots, drink our water, and achieve our goal: Ten shots in two hours. We’re drunk and happy, and I forget about smooth cowboy. As midnight strikes and the bartenders tell disappointed patrons that they will now have to start paying full price for drinks, I realize I seriously need to pee and seriously don’t want to wait in the line for the lady’s room that snakes out the bathroom door. So, I do what I’m sure many a drunk 20-something has and inform my friends that I’m going to go pee behind the bushes between my car and the railroad tracks.

Wrapped in a haze of alcohol, I feel warm and joyous in the sultry air of a summer night. Just as I pull my panties up and stumble back around my car, he comes seem-

ingly from nowhere, striking me so sharply in the throat that I can’t scream as I stumble backward into the side of my car. Impossibly strong hands grasp my arms just above the elbows with such strength that the blunt tips of his fingers feel like they might dig into my flesh as easily as if I were made of clay. He pins me against my car with the weight of his body while I gasp and struggle to regain my breath and my balance.

My eyes find his, and I search desperately for some hint of his intentions. Rape? Murder? A lecture on the morality of public urination? They say the eyes are windows to the soul, and while the shutters had been closed earlier in the bar, the inner being that now reveals itself to me resembles no human soul I have ever experienced. Staring into his eyes is like walking through a city during a blackout in the middle of the night. Devoid of any illumination, the blunt silhouettes of familiar human emotions feel alien and unnerving staring back at me from through a cold, predatory lens.

“What are you?” I croak as some breath returns to me. I’m as fascinated by his strangeness as I am terrified by his violence.

His eyes flinch away from mine, again thrown off by a reaction he seems not to have expected.

I learned a long time ago that it’s rude to gaze deeply into people’s eyes, no matter how badly I wish to parse the secrets they conceal poorly just beneath the surface. Attacking a girl in a parking lot is far ruder though, so I continue to examine him.

He seems momentarily caught off guard by some kind of internal struggle, but the world can be a confusing place when people and situations defy your expectations. Though alcohol dulls my reactions, adrenaline flooding my system sends my heart racing, and the pulse throbbing in my neck seems to draw him back from his confusion. Staring at my neck, I see his canines elongate.

“Oh! Are you a vampire?” My voice remains quiet and raspy. I should probably scream and struggle, but drunkenness clouds my reflexes, and the painful strength with which he holds me tells me that I can’t overpower him.

Again, he pauses briefly, his eyes returning to mine before some virulent, confused rage seems to burst inside him, “What’s YOUR deal bitch? Aren’t you going to scream? This is usually the part where sluts like you scream and I shut them up by ripping their throats out!” He seems to want to shout, but keeps his voice at an intense, hissing whisper. The glow of lit cigarettes dance in the distance across the parking lot, and I can only assume he wants to avoid interruptions by curious and potentially chivalrous smokers.

I should scream, I think again, but I don’t. You don’t get to meet a mythological creature every day, and alcohol and curiosity override the preservation instincts screaming at me from deep inside my lizard brain. Struggle, fight, kick, scream, those instincts tell me.

Keep him talking, another, smarter instinct says. Voice still hoarse, words come to my aid, “Wow, dude,” I cough, slurring only a litte, “That’s a lot to unpack. I mean, I get it, you’re clearly a vampire, so you’re probably, like, hella old, but calling women sluts pejoratively in this day and age? Like, I clearly spurned your advances earlier, and I know you were watching me, so I know you know I wasn’t here tonight to hook up with some random guy, so ‘slut’ is just factually inaccurate.” If talking a piece of minutiae to death is a superpower, then call me a hero. “Furthermore, you’re the one attacking and admitting to murdering women in parking lots. Justifying your actions and deflecting the shame you feel for your behavior by denigrating the people you hurt doesn’t make what you’re doing any less monstrous.” The more I talk, the angrier I feel. The part of me screaming for a fight warms up to my mouth’s strategy as hot, molten anger courses through my body, burning away my intoxicated haze. He may have the strength to snap me in half, but words are my weapons. If he’s going to kill me, I’m going to make damn sure that my last words will cut into his mind and fester like a poisoned splinter.

My anger draws his to the surface, washing away his confusion and hesitation, all while distracting him from the murder he intends to commit and prompting him to fight me with words instead of teeth and claws.

As we argue, I feel the miraculous weight of the box cutter I keep clipped to the center of my bra. Where fear and uncertainty made my body tense, I sink into anger like a hot bath, its warmth imparting an arrogant relaxation to which his body unconsciously responds.

“Of course you’re a slut, dressed like that what else would you be. No self-respecting woman comes out late at night, drinking with men. You all deserve what’s coming to you.” With each contemptuous word, his face draws closer to mine and his grip loosens.

“Wow, so you have supernatural powers, and you’re still just some incompetent incel who blames his unhappiness on women who are just trying to live their lives instead of doing something about his utter dogshit personality. Imagine spending the afterlife as a loser.”

“How dare you! Women love me you dirty - OWWW!”

In probably my only chance at survival, I rip my right arm from his loosened grasp, plunge my hand down between my breasts, and his face once again displays a splitsecond look of confusion. Hours of listless fidgeting with my knife, flipping it open and closed, open and closed, give me the unexpected advantage of muscle memory as my hand closes around the handle, draws it out, opens it, and slashes him hard and fast across the chest with surprising speed and fluidity given my intoxicated state. He stumbles instinctually backward, away from the blade, giving me enough space to escape and dash away.

“Help! Help me! He’s hurting me!” I finally scream, my voice partially recovered from his earlier blow. I run at full speed toward the bar and the cluster of lit cigarettes across the parking lot.

I feel his presence behind me as the smoker’s chatter breaks off and two figures move across the pavement in my direction. I run as fast as I can, screaming for help, toward the larger of the two men who are now coming toward me. One man’s intensely red hair glows like a beacon in the night, and I recognize him as Joe, the little brother of a guy I used to work with. He seems startled to recognize me but quickly pulls me behind him as I reach him, propelling myself toward the safety of witnesses and away from the mortal danger at my back.

Joe places himself between me and my attacker, but the smooth cowboy is close behind me and tries, unsuccessfully, to dash around Joe, “We were just talking and that bitch stabbed me!” he shouts in Joe’s face.

“Please call the police,” I gasp, “I went out to my car and he attacked me. Please call the police!” I stumble back, keeping Joe’s wide back between me and the man whose blood is on the knife clutched tightly in my hand.

“I’m already calling,” mutters a tense voice from behind me.

“Let’s get you inside,” a woman’s voice now, closer this time, and she gently touches my arm, exclaiming, “Oh god!” as I turn.

I don’t know what shocks her at first, but then I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the lenses of her wide, trendy glasses. A bright bruise is forming where he’d hit my throat, and I glance down to see handprint-shaped bruises on my arms, the imprint of each finger clearly visible against my not-yet-tanned-for-the-summer skin. She draws me gently yet urgently toward the bar’s stairs and shouts for the door guy. I flick the knife closed. Muscle memory.

Behind us, Joe and the smooth cowboy argue. Whatever violence he’s intended, he clearly doesn’t want to make *that* kind of scene while witnesses are paying attention. The inhuman predator I encountered moments before has become once again a belligerent, but fairly normal asshole. Already I hear police sirens wailing their way closer to us. Wenatchee is a small town, and the bar is only a few blocks from the police station.

We reached the top of the stairs, and I put my back against the building’s stone wall. Though I am relatively safe under the watchful eye of concerned strangers, I feel better with rough, century-old stone blocks at my back. The kind woman tries to urge me down the stairs and into the bar, but the rush of anger and semi-clarity brought on by adrenaline make me wary of trapping myself in a stairwell with a single exit.

People rush past us down the stairs, past us up the stairs, forming a small, tumultuous wall of humanity between my attacker and me. His angry, posturing voice reaches my ears, but my world shrinks down to encompass my heartbeat and the feel of stone against

my skin, and even in this miniscule sphere of reality, I feel lost, adrift on a solitary sea.

A voice full of fear and panic shouts my name, drawing me back to these chaotic shores. I look down and see the bar’s door opening at the bottom of the stairs, and Allen rushes past the now frightened and frozen door guard.Taking the stairs two at a time, my lovable giant of a friend takes one look at me and pulls me into his arms. A safe harbor at last.

The echo of police sirens draws closer, and Joe’s heated argument with the smooth cowboy…the smooth vampire cowboy…rises in volume and intensity, as though my attacker wants to shout down the reality of what just happened and block out the sound of any impending consequences.

Smart move really, I think, burrowing my face closer to my friend’s chest, make it look like a normal, human altercation. Shouting raises a lot less suspicion than beating a bunch of strange men to a bloody pulp to get at me, and if I tell anyone what I saw, I’ll just look like some hysterical drunk woman. My brain whirs and spins at the speed of holy-shit-I-almost-died while my body begins to shiver and my eyes bloom with tears.

“What the fuck happened?!” Allen asks, anger warring with confusion and bewilderment.

I push myself away from his chest, “I was peeing by the train tracks like I told you I was going to,” my tears start to really flow and my bruised throat chokes me up, “That weird guy who kept hitting on me earlier came out of nowhere and attacked me. He hit me and he grabbed my arm and I couldn’t get away from him.” Some part of me makes the conscious decision to let this all out, to show my fear and uncertainty now that I am safe. If the smooth cowboy can play at making this look like a normal attack, so can I. A normal attack. God men are terrifying, fangs or not.

***

Finding out there are vampires in our valley was in some ways shocking, but in many ways, once you know what to look for, they’re obvious. They hide just below the surface, an open secret that anyone can know, but few people will believe if you tell them about it, so why bother? Smooth cowboy ran from the cops that night. They took my report and a few pictures, but nothing official came of it.

Some years after that night, a local evangelical church got permission to keep the cross on the hill lit year-round and add brighter lights. “It will protect us,” said those who knew the cross’s purpose, and “praise Jesus,” said those who didn’t. No matter how bright the bulbs are, the cross serves more as a reminder to fear the night than as a protection from the predators that lurk in the darkness. Now that I know what to look for, and have an idea of what to do to keep myself safe (a local gift shop sells lotion that’s been blessed by a priest and a perfume blend made with garlic oil, both of which vampires can smell clinging to my skin like sour milk), I’m far safer than some distant symbol on a hill could keep me. In some ways, I suppose we’re all lucky that the church and the vampires hate each other because that hate keeps them from recognizing how much they have in common, and if they joined forces, we’d all be fucked. As it is, we’re caught between two violent factions, each enamored with their own misogynistic power fantasy, trying desperately to resurrect a make-believe past that never existed.

I’ve met some decent vampires, just as I’ve met some decent churchgoers. They’re not all bloodthirsty rapists, though many are if given half a chance, alone in the dark, and just as many will make excuses for their violent brethren. Both groups work jobs just like you and I, though one group favors the graveyard shift more than the other.

When Covenant Kingdom Church came to the valley, with their violent, controlling dogma, they started a crusade against the vampires. Perhaps if they had gone after predators like the smooth cowboy who attacked me, that might not have been so bad. Instead, they went after vampires in the same way they grew their congregation: target the most vulnerable first.

There was a pair of vampire sisters I knew who lived up one of the canyons where the high hills made sunrise come late and sunset come early. They raised pigs that they fed from without killing, and would come to town after dark to drink whiskey and sing karaoke. They had a quiet, out of the way existence and just wanted to be left alone to enjoy their afterlives in peace. They were the first people I knew that Covenant Kingdom’s God Squad killed, but they wouldn’t be the last. C

408 N Pearl St

Ellensburg, WA

gallery-one.org

connecting ART

COMMUNITY through

Over the years at the Wenatchee Valley Museum, there have been some odd and strange things that have been donated to the collection. While currently there is a screening process and procedures in place for donating items, this wasn’t always the case. We occasionally find oddities lying around from years gone by with little or no explanations

In relation to last month’s edition of The Comet, in the Weird Trivia section by Christopher F. Hart, there was a question about a mother and an ironically named hamster called Mr. Nibbles. Staff here at the museum then thought it perfect to showcase our own pet whom we also call Mr. Nibbles! He is everyone’s favorite lunch buddy as he sits perched above the dining table in our staff kitchen making sure none of his hamster buddies are harmed.

Curated and written by Anna SpencerCollections Coordinator at Wenatchee Valley Museum And Cultural Center wenatcheevalleymuseum.org

8-QUESTIONS WITH JOEL MYRENE:

LOCAL MUSICIAN AND CREATOR OF APPLE VALLEY VINYL RECORD EXPO

On Saturday, May 13, vinyl hounds in Wenatchee will have a field day with the inaugural buy/sell/swap event - Apple Valley Vinyl Record Expo. The organizer of the event, Joel Myrene, was born in Wenatchee, lived in Bellingham for a good portion of his 20’s and 30’s and moved back to Wenatchee in 2016.

“I have been collecting records and playing music in bands for about 25 years now. Some of the bands were Wayward Youth, Eightyfour, The Seizures, USS Horsewhip, The Muscle Relaxers, Language Arts and The Arcadians. Currently play in a Ramones cover band called The Crushers.” says Myrene. The Comet reached out to learn a little about his passion of music and his love for collecting records.

Favorite band/artist:

Easy one. Johnny Cash. Hands down, for a number of reasons. He was a pioneer in his style of country, released a staggering amount of albums and during his career he was constantly evolving/trying new styles. Some didn’t work as well as others, many were ground-breaking.

Favorite local band /artist(s):

Again, easy choice. Moral Crux. Incredible songwriting, vocals/lyrics and musicianship. They also taught me so much about how to be in my own touring band, as I got the chance to travel with them through the US and Canada. Their albums are still as powerful today as the day they were released.

Favorite album:

This is a tough question, but here goes. Johnny Cash American IV. While most of these songs on this album are covers, his interpretations of other’s work in unbe-

lievable. And “The Man Comes Around,” his own song, is as close to a perfect song as I’ve heard. And to do this at this late stage in his career is unbelievable. It still gives me chills every time I hear this song. It was released in 2002. He died the following year. 2nd choice would be his first album Johnny Cash With His Hot And Blue Guitar. Just go look up the track list, it’s stacked with hits.

Most sentimental record in your collection - and why?:

Dinosaur Jr. - Green Mind. Incredible album that I heard when I was a teenager, that just floored me. Still does.

Strangest record in your collection: C.W. McCall - Greatest Hits. I am a sucker for cheesy trucker music.

Holy grail record(s) you’re always hunting for:

Oddly enough, I don’t really have one. I’m not big on paying a large amount of money on a single record. I’d rather have a cheaper repress, as all of my records get played.

Favorite place(s) to dig for records: Quimper Sound Records in Port Townsend.

Other than records, what’s your favorite way to listen to music: Nothing beats seeing one of your favorite bands play live, in a small venue/club.

Apple Valley Record Expo is Saturday, May 13, 11am-5pm at the IOOF Hall in Wenatchee. There will be around 25 vendor/seller tables. Admission is free.

Myrene in front of Jack White’s famous Third Man Records in Nashville, TN. Photo by Katja Myrene

ARTBEAT

FIRST FRIDAYS ARTS WALK MAP INCLUDED

IT’S ALL IN THE TIMING

lively community discussion meeting last month to discuss invigorating Wenatchee First Fridays. The group generated ideas such as providing toolkits and FAQs on the upcoming wenatcheefirstfridays.com website to make it easy for businesses and artists to get involved; hosting learning opportunities for artists on a variety of topics to help you on your journey; and making our integrative map simpler to navigate.

BY MEG KAPPLER

Ireflected this month on the timing of things. There is always a desire to do more—especially when the weather gets nice—but nothing beats the feeling of timing it right and knowing that your efforts are unfolding at just the right moment to make the most impact. How does that translate to NCW Arts? We are still evolving in our chrysalis, but we are SO close to unfurling our butterfly wings. Revamping the First Fridays experience, creating the Artist Index, and finalizing our new website will mark the last of our foundational work, and we look forward to enjoying the next phase with you. Time will tell if we timed it right! That said, you have already been incredibly helpful in this stage of our metamorphosis. We held a

This was the first of several community meetings we will hold about First Fridays as we continue to grow this exciting monthly event. Stay tuned for future dates and join in the conversation!

So what about the Artist Index, you say? There is no limit to the number of artists, musicians, performers, and arts organizations that we can include, so keep sending us your information! This will be a searchable database housed on our new website where regional artists and makers of all stripes can connect.

Visit our website homepage to preregister (ncwarts.org) and submit your information. We hope to launch the Index and the new website early this summer.

See you Friday for the May Arts Walk!

FEATURED OPPORTUNITY:

GET READY TO FILL IN THE GAPS!

Grant For Artists Progress (GAP) applications for 2023 open on May 15 and close on June 23. Three 2022 GAP recipients from Chelan County — Lorna Rose, Claire Seaman and playwright Michael Caemmerer — who are fairly new to the individual grant application, answer a few questions to prime us for the process:

What aspect of your project or process will this award support?

LR: My goal is to become a multi-disciplinary artist in the areas of writing and performing/storytelling. Many opportunities to perform original storytelling provide little to no funding, so most of my award will go toward the costs of transportation and housing.

CS: The GAP grant has supported the purchase of a new camera lens, covered travel expenses and allowed me to take time to concentrate on my project.

What advice do you have for artists who are considering applying for grant funding?

INDIGENOUS ENTERPRISE AT ICICLE CREEK

LR: Be as specific as possible. In the discipline statement, if there are themes that consistently come up in your project, let them know. On the progress statement, be specific about how this funding will help advance your goals. If this award will assist with renting studio space, say that. Break down the hourly rental costs of your local studio. Be razor-sharp specific.

MC: My best advice is just do it. Don’t second guess yourself or your work. At the very least, going through the application process will solidify your own ability to clearly talk about your work. That will open up all sorts of other doors.

CS: You have nothing to lose by applying! One application can be adapted for submissions to other grants and acts as a record of your project’s evolution at different stages.

For more information and helpful resources see Seattle-based Artist Trust website, artisttrust.org.

Swirling colors and the pulse of drums will fill Icicle Creek’s Snowy Owl Theater on May 12 and 13 as Native American performers representing tribes from all over the American West present dances that celebrate their heritage. Indigenous Enterprise has been praised by both the New York Times and Vogue for stunning visual artistry, and Jacob’s Pillow dance center calls them “explosively jubilant.”

Founded in Phoenix, Arizona in 2015, the performing group is a collective of young native Americans who travel the world to bring their culture to life for modern audiences through dynamic music and movement.

See icicle.org for time and ticket information for the three upcoming performances.

THE GRUNEWALD GUILD

The Grunewald Guild, a nonprofit arts retreat center in Plain, has opened its summer class registration. This year, visual artists lead sessions as diverse as pottery, drawing, mosaics, printmaking, watercolor, felting and photography; while literary artists teach reflective journaling, nature

YOUNG WRITERS

Young fiction writers can showcase their creativity in the 12th annual High School Writers Competition, co-sponsored by North Central Washington Libraries and Write On The River. $200 in prizes will go to the judges’ top three picks of a short story or the start of a novel. Online sub-

writing, memoir, songwriting and poetry. The full schedule of fifty 3-to 6-day classes launches June 18.

Class size is limited. For more details on schedule, cost, residency and to register, go to Grunewaldguild.com.

mission is due by May 15. There is no entry fee.

Go to writeontheriver.org or to ncwlibraries.org for criteria and submission information.

Join fine local musicians and their talented friends from afar for a spring weekend full of jazz and swing music on May 5-7. At the Leavenworth Jazz Association’s in-

augural festival you can learn dance steps, study the craft, or just relax on the grass at Icicle Creek’s Meadow Stage or in the Snowy Owl Theater to hear hot and cool renderings of new arrangements and classic favorites.

Find more about venues, ticketing, times and musicians at leavenworthjazzfestival.org.

Photo by Jim Levitt - Trumpeter, composer and educator Jared Hall brings his renowned quartet to Icicle Creek Center for the Arts’ Snowy Owl Theater on Saturday, May 6.

NEW AGE, OLD WORLD, HIGH-TECH, LOW-IMPACT ART

susan lagsdin

Hungarian-born Timea Tihanyi holds not only a Doctor of Medicine degree but bachelor’s and master’s degrees in ceramics (from Semmelweis University in Budapest, the Massachusetts College of Art in Boston and the University of Washington, respectively). Both an artist and a scientist, she is a University of Washington professor of interdisciplinary art.

Her exhibition “To Go Gentle” (a reference to the Dylan Thomas poem Do not go gentle into that good night) is currently at the MAC Gallery on the Wenatchee Valley College Campus and will continue there until May 19. It includes 3D printed porcelain, a video, and large wall pieces made of porcelain, polyethylene tarp, and blown glass.

Tihanyi’s diverse academic background, coupled with her enthusiastic embrace of contemporary technology, has led to award-winning, multi-faceted artwork that has been shown internationally. She explores what knowledge is attainable through direct physical experience, and what can only be known through abstract theory and logic.

She values recycled and upcycled raw materials, which the artist says stems from her childhood. “Surrounded by scarcity during an authoritarian political regime in the 1970s-80s Hungary, I grew up making things,” said Tihanyi. “The material world in the Eastern Block was cobbled together endlessly from hand-me-downs.”

Tihanyi’s work is also biographical, sometimes echoing Hungarian folklore, past gardens and loved ones’ gestures while melding her experience with both traditional and high-tech processes. “While I mostly work with technological tools such as 3D printers, scanners, software, and code in ceramics,” she said, “I still use my hands extensively.”

You can see Timea Tihanyi’s “To Go Gentle” and meet the artist at a First Fridays reception from 5 p.m. until 7 p.m. on May 7. The MAC Gallery is at 1300 Fifth Street, Wenatchee.

SCAN FOR DIGITAL INTERACTIVE FIRST FRIDAYS MAP!

FIRST FRIDAYS AFTER HOURS

Online

Spring has sprung and we’re ready to head outside — namely to the Blossoms & Brews Beer Garden at Memorial Park (2 South Chelan Avenue) in Wenatchee. Wrap up your First Fridays Arts Walk at the official afterparty of the NCW Arts Alliance this Friday, May 5. Beer, wine, seltzers

and ciders are on tap and there will be tons of tunes coming from the main stage. The cover charge will be just $3. Come get into the local Spring festival spirit with us anytime from 6 pm to closing.

Happy First Friday!

FIRST FRIDAYS ARTS MAP

1. MAC Gallery

“To Go Gentle,” mixed media installation by artist and ceramist Timea Tihanyi, reception 5-7 pm. Exhibit continues through May 19.

2. Lemolo Café & Deli

Small paintings in a variety of styles by artist Len Harm. Open until 6 pm.

3. Two Rivers Art Gallery

Watercolors by artist Richard Daugherty, reception 5-8 pm, with local wines and live music.

4. Tumbleweed

Marsha Baerlocher with Stupid Stitch! will present upcycled, sustainable clothing, 4-7 pm.

5. Ye Olde Bookshoppe

Handmade journals and notebooks by Bookshoppe owner AnaMaree Ordway, 10 am to 6 pm.

6. Pybus Art Alley

Photographs by Guy Miner, plus beverages and bites, 5-7 pm. Live music by Dos Dudes on the main concourse stage, 6-8 pm.

7. Wenatchi Wear Various indigenous artists, 10 am to 6 pm.

map courtesy of the Wenatchee Downtown Association wendowntown.org

By DOUG and Kayla Nunn

In May of 1977 Star Wars was released, and for 36 years they have been trying to repeat the success of the original trilogy. It’s now 2023 and we have three full trilogies plus three spin-offs and an animated movie, with a total of twelve full length movies. We also have four live action shows and seven animated shows (not counting all the LEGO shows) with many more being announced. I know I’m walking on eggshells here with this article, or verbal vomit, or whatever you want to call it but I’m a 90’s kid - the prequels were my favorite and defined what Star Wars is to me. But why does it seem each trilogy is worse than the last? Or at least they are met with huge amounts of criticism right out the gate. It’s not until years later that people start liking and appreciating them. Only now are the prequels being praised and talked about with high regard, most likely with the help of the successful Clone Wars series, and even then it took The Clone Wars years to gain the following it has now. Obviously everything changed when George Lucas sold LucasFilm to Disney in 2012, for better or worse, we still really don’t know. Yes, we are getting a flood of content but is it all really that good? In my opinion it is all good but I’m easy to please. Give me some spaceships, a lightsaber fight and some dope aliens and I’m good.

Let’s talk about the sequel trilogy, at one point shunned by the studio and now cannon, these movies were plagued with failure from beginning to end with constant rewrites and rushed dates from Disney - plus the insane decision to not go with the same director for all three films. Plots were all over the place and in some cases, like with FN-2187 or Finn, completely gave up on. I do have to admit the movies have grown on me, it seems the more I watch them the more I like them and I think that’s the case with most of Star Wars

You have to watch everything these days to really understand what’s going on. It’s very smart on Disney’s part, it forces you to watch all the old content, constantly giving that content views on their streaming service. The best decision Disney has made is adding the animated world that George Lucas and Dave Filloni created and started bringing them into the live action world with shows like The Mandalorian and the soon to be released Ahsoka show - which in my opinion, is going to be the peak of this chapter in Star Wars. They are bringing in characters that have been rumored and hoped for on the big screen for a long time, like Hera, Chopper, Sabine and the most anticipated, Thrawn from Star Wars Rebels (Spoiler Alert) After seeing how badass Zeb looked in Mandalorian Season 3, I cannot wait for the future of these characters. Rebels was Disney’s first project

after acquiring LucasFilm and it was one of their first steps on the right path. Not only did they make a new hit animated TV show, but with the success of Rebels it inspired them to revamp and conclude The Clone Wars, a story arc that fans have wanted to see concluded for a very long time.

With Disney Plus out and all of the Star Wars content any fan could hope for at the touch of a button, Star Wars is sitting in a good place. They can keep making content and keep dipping in the never ending IP pool of The Clone Wars, Rebels and now Bad Batch without using characters from the books. Don’t get me wrong I love to read and there are plenty of great Star Wars novels such as Heir to the Empire by Timothy Zahn but not everyone has time to read the thousands of books that have been made. Using characters from these shows is an easy way for fans to feel involved and not lost with how vast the story of Star Wars has become. Love it or hate it, Star Wars is going to be here for a long time. They have recently announced three new movies, the first one featuring Rey, set 15 years after Rise of the Skywalker. The second movie is going to be done by Dave Falloni and set in, yes you guessed it, the same time period as The Mandalorian and Book of Boba Fett. The third movie, by James Mangold, will cover the dawn of the Jedi, taking place 25,000 years before the prequels. There are also two new

shows announced, other than the Ahsoka show we already covered, the first one is The Acolyte, taking place during the High Republic, about 100 years before Episode 1. The second show announced is Skeleton Crew, starring Jude Law. This show will follow a group of kids from a tiny planet who get lost in the galaxy and have to find their way back home. Yes, some shows did better than others. We all liked The Mandolarian but maybe shit on Boba Fett a bit and also to my sad dismay the Kenobi show wasn’t the best but we are getting a season 2 of Andor, Tales of the Jedi and also another season of Star Wars: Visions. To conclude this rant on Star Wars, just be ready for lots of content and before you dismiss it all right away, maybe watch The Clone Wars or Rebels or grab a Timothy Zahn book. You will have all the tools needed to enjoy some good Star Wars.

Doug and Kayla Nunn are owners and operators of The Time Capsule, a retro media hub that celebrates all things nostalgic and pop culture related.

Find them: @retromediaman | 23 Orondo Avenue, Wenatchee and at timecapsulecollectibles.com C

Images owned by Disney.

CASCADIA FIELD GUIDE

Dear Reader,

Five years ago, my coeditors and I set out to create a field guide for our bioregion that includes poems and art, and we did that. . .and more. The process of this collaborative book-making was like making a poem, full of discovery and delight. As we finished the work, we realized we had brought something new to life, what former Oregon Poet Laureate Kim Stafford has since described as “a kind of ecosystem disguised as a book” and recent MacArthur Fellow Drew Lanham has dubbed a “feel guide.” In every way possible, this book acknowledges and enacts the agency and

animacy of other beings. As it emphasizes cohesion over division and blends poetry with Western science with art with traditional cultural knowledge, it invites us into a new (and very old) way of belonging to a place. What, we might ask, does it mean to define ourselves by our relationship to other beings and to our bioregion? What are the implications of that in how we conduct our living?

To make our field guide for the heart, we have organized 128 beings into 13 different communities. Thanks to Comet editor Ron Evans, you are getting a taste here of what’s to be found in Cascadia Field

Guide. And what better taste than poems and art honoring beings of the Shrub-Steppe Community?!

And while I’m at it, I really want to let you know that the book is becoming something of a cultural phenomenon. Even though it just published on March 1st, it is already headed into its second edition. To date, more than 5,000 copies have found readers!

On behalf of my coeditors and the many poets and artists who have come together in this endeavor, I want to wish you an interconnected spring and happy Cascadia Day on May 18th! ~ Derek Sheffield

The mostly treeless Shrub-Steppe affords expansive views flats, and basaltic canyons. Even so, you might hear the flutelike song before you see Western Meadowlark perched twisting trunk of Big Sagebrush, bill opening with each also for the rustle of grasses as Pygmy Short-horned Lizard ants. And in the night, if you’re lucky, you might hear the of Coyote shivering the air and remember something you forgotten about wildness.

Tami Haaland Goldeye,

Vole

I say sweep of prairie or curve of sandstone, but it doesn’t come close to this language of dry wind and deer prints, blue racer and sage, its punctuation white quartz and bone. I learned mounds of mayflowers, needle grass on ankles, the occasional sweet pea before I knew words like perspective or travesty or the permanence of loss. My tongue spoke obsidian, red agate, arrowhead. I stepped

234 | Cascadia Field Guide

through tipi rings, leaped buffalo grass and puff ball to petrified clam.

Jaw bone of fox, flint, blue lichen, gayfeather, goldeye, vole—speak to me

my prairie darling, sing me that song you know.

Illustrations by Emily Poole

Afternoon Coyote

this a ernoon coyote is in the ditch I can see by his coat he’s blending in well with these fields in fall stalks broken off yellow & gold he’s in there listening for mice & voles listening to the whole world as it blows across like lips to a reed when a child takes a deep breath coyote listens to the human hubbub west of the ditch semis, distant planes and me letting the car coast to look down at him my daughter unaware happy with new earbuds you see east of here there’s nothing but trees & bush & lakes and the odd logging road he’s listening to that too the racket of sandhill cranes and the peep-whistles geese make shuffling into their vee

Spotted Frog survives only because the high amount of sugar as a natural anti eeze. Amazingly, even if their breathing will rejuvenate when the temperatures warm. If their water source dries up, this being will migrate. Imagine through the Shrub-steppe in search of a new pond. What a

Humans are not the only beings in Cascadia who rely on Big Sagebrush. Their leaves provide essential cover and food for Columbia Basin Pygmy Rabbit, Greater Sage-grouse, and Hera Buckmoth. Big Sagebrush is such a ubiquitous being of Cascadia’s arid plains that the Shrub-steppe is sometimes referred to as the Sagebrush Grassland. This being is so aromatic that you may smell their sharp scent before you see their gray-green, three-toothed leaves. Slow growers, Big Sagebrush might take a hundred years to reach six feet in height.

Ursula K. Le Guin

Lesser Senses

Thinking of beauty as sight we keep forgetting the warmth of the fire in the brightness of firelight, in the graceful ripples the grace

of water to thirst, So as air, the touch of fur on the touching hand is as beautiful surely as the curve of the cat’s leap.

No keener beauty than a dry branch of sagebrush, the harsh, poignant scent bringing the silent desert distances back to the heart.

Jill McCabe Johnson

Tadpoles

With our toes touching the lake’s edge we saw a simmer of og eggs floating just beneath the undulating water.

Every day something new as the sacs pulsed up om muddy dregs just beneath the undulating water.

Mouths agog they siphoned great gulps and swam the algae bed where our toes touched the lake’s edge.

Translucent tails shaped into pollywogs. Their gills quivered. Their bodies spread just beneath the undulating water.

What started as gelatinous globs morphed and sprouted uncertain legs where our toes touched the lake’s edge.

Agog ourselves—me eleven, you twelve— we barely believed our own legs could bud or fledge but our toes touched at the lake’s edge just beneath the undulating water.

Al Rempel

Cryptobiotic Soil

There are many reasons to tread with care in the Shrub-steppe. One of them is Cryptobiotic Soil, whose name means “hidden life.” If you are lucky enough to encounter this being, which is typically darker than the surrounding soil and bumpy looking, kneel for a close look and imagine the wonder of seeing a thousand-year-old Sitka Spruce in Cascadia’s Temperate Rainforest. This elder being you are in the company of might be five times as ancient. Maybe

extinction. In 2001, only one population with fewer than twenty individuals remained in Washington.

During winter months, in search of food, Pygmy Rabbit tunnels om their burrows to nearby plants. The next time you gaze out across a snow-covered Shrub-steppe, imagine all the life going on below.

Xavier Cavazos

Columbia Basin Pygmy Rabbit

when i dream

is a bobcat’s open mouth—an owl’s turning eye-gaze when fuego dreams raven weasel and even i are called by name kindle kindle kindling

Cryptobiotic Soil, also known as Cryptogamic Crust and Biological Soil Crust, is as vulnerable as they are venerable. One errant foot- or hoof-step may take a century to repair. A special collective of lichens, cyanobacteria, mosses, fungi, and algae, Cryptobiotic Crust is vitally important in that they add nutrients to the soil and protect it om erosion. Imagine what all that prairie wind would do were it not for the anchoring grace of this being.

CMarie Fuhrman

Cryptobiotic Sonnet

The ashes of my beloved tasted like nothing and swallowing them didn’t bring him back. They still feel warm, my mother said, as we fed him to the river.

He and I were pregnant then, but I bled the unknowable into soil.

There were no songs. I o en walk the desert looking for proof of my ancestors. I once found a Clovis point unbroken by years, cattle hooves, or floods, an icicle with an amber heart and tip dipped in blood. I felt only its primeval edge when I pressed it to my tongue. I buried the artifice in soil whose name means hidden life. An ancient skin which binds together the dead in layers to hold new lives. I’ll be dead before the scar I made heals by the beautiful work of rot, which I carry now beneath my fingernails like ten black and waning moons.

fuego

(Artemisia tridentata)

(Driloleirus americanus)

248 | Cascadia Field Guide

Hera Buckmoth

(Hemileuca hera)

Like Greater Sage-grouse and Columbia Basin Pygmy Rabbit, Hera Buckmoth relies heavily on Big Sagebrush for food. In caterpillar form, as they dine on the pale green leaves of Big Sagebrush, they cluster together on a single branch like fuzzy, purplish-black beaded necklaces. When you come across Hera Buckmoth in this form, be careful. If you want to touch them, it would be best to extend a finger and let one crawl on if they choose. Avoid picking them up, as their bodies are covered in silver hairs that sting like Nettle.

A er they emerge om their pupal state, they don’t need leaves or anything else to eat. In their adult form, winging over the Shrub-steppe, they do not even have mouthparts. With an average life span of about two weeks, they are able to live off food stored in their bodies om when they were wriggling caterpillars.

Hera Buckmoth, also called Sagebrush Moth and Sagebrush Sheep Moth, is active during the day. Their flight is seemingly erratic and unpredictable, as if they can’t make up their mind. Look for them in mid-July to late September. You’ll know you’ve found them if you see white wings with bold black lines, as if a page om an artist’s sketchbook has fluttered to life.

Ever Jones Moth

Its wings don’t ground into dust, nor do they signal another ending. That is up to us, our rippled fingertips

smoothing the contours that flutter away om our wish. The wings’ scales are tiny windows,

cathedrals of solar dust sealed into letters that contain all of our questions: why are we here?

where do we go when we die? are we really so alone?

The moth collides endlessly with the moon, we see its celestial weaving with immeasurable agility, and we feel night exposed for the first time again:

chafing pine needles erasing all we thought we knew of this life, the owl screeching the universe’s original

vowel. When the earth is no longer ours, the letters will slide open easily as a palm cupping water

or a moth revolving around a porch light pouring fine dust into a thirsty mouth that calls everything loss.

FRIDAY, MAY 5, AT 12 PM – 8 PM

First Friday Garden Art Tour

LynnArt Gardens

FRIDAY, MAY 5, AT 6 PM – 9 PM

Live music featuring Killdeer String Band Gard Vintners

SATURDAY, MAY 6, AT 9:30 PM

Late Night Shiner, Proleterror and As It Lies!! Live at Wally’s!!!

Wally’s House of Booze

THURSDAY, MAY 11, 2023 AT 7 PM

Heather Pierson Duo Concert

Cascade Unitarian Universalist Fellowship

FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2023 AT 9:30 PM

Goners UK, The Scoffs, The Disorderlies!!! Live at Wally’s!!!

Wally’s House of Booze

SATURDAY, MAY 13, 2023 AT 11 AM – 5 PM

Apple Valley Vinyl Record Expo

Wenatchee Odd Fellows Prosperity Lodge#301

SATURDAY, MAY 13, 2023 AT 10 AM – 6 PM

Two Rivers Medieval Faire

Chelan County Expo Center

FRIDAY, MAY 19, 2023 AT 9:30 PM

Bullets or Balloons, The Nightmares, and Moss Glow Wally’s House of Booze

FRIDAY, MAY 19, 2023 AT 5:30 PM – 9 PM

Potluck & Song Circle

120 Irwin Ln, Leavenworth, WA 98826-4520, United States

FRIDAY, MAY 19, 2023 AT 7:30 PM

Black Box Comedy ft. Matthew Broussard Numerica Performing Arts Center

FRIDAY, MAY 19, 2023 AT 7 PM – 9 PM

Unsettled by Dangerous Women 7409 Icicle Rd. Leavenworth, Wa.

SATURDAY, MAY 20, 2023 AT 11 AM

Kick Off to Summer Tattoo Flash Event Ole Soul Studio

THURSDAY, MAY 25, 2023 AT 7 PM

A Doctor’s War: A War Story & a Love Story from the Frontlines of WWII Wenatchee Valley Museum & Cultural Center

FRIDAY, MAY 26, 2023 AT 7:30 PM

Kuttl3ss And Old Skool’s present: The “Up In Smoke”

Northwest Tour-Ellensburg @ Old Skool’s

CUM ON BARBIE, LET’S GO PARTY

THE STORY OF HOW A GERMAN ‘SEX DOLL’ BECAME AMERICA’S SWEETHEART

BY MOXIE ROSE

When you think of Barbie, what is the first thing that comes to mind? Iconic? Kids toy? Career woman? Movie star? Princess? Skipper’s big sister? How about “call girl?” Or maybe “adult novelty doll?”

It’s been so long since Mattel debuted Barbie in 1959, coupled with America’s strange and often unhealthy relationship with anything of a sexual nature, it’s easy to forget Barbie’s roots. And I’m not talking about the roots showing through that signature platinum blonde hair.

The inspiration for America’s most famous doll is actually a saucy high-end call girl named Lilli. First created in late 40s/early 50s Germany, in a comic strip for the Hamburg newspaper BildZeitung. Lilli was a post-war gold-digging buxom broad who got by in life by seducing wealthy male suitors. The Bild Lilli character became so popular that she was soon immortalized in plastic and sold as an adult novelty.

According to Robin Gerber, author of Barbie and Ruth, “Lilli dolls could be bought in tobacco shops, bars, and adult- themed toy stores. Men got Lilli dolls as gag gifts at bachelor parties, put them on their car dashboard, dangled them from the rearview mirror, or gave them to girlfriends as a suggestive keepsake.”

The proto-Barbie was just shy of a foot tall, with bulging breasts, and a platinum, blonde ponytail and made up for a night on the town with puckered red lips and blue eyeshadow.

When Mattel debuted the Barbie we all know and love today, they kept the curvy proportions that were modeled after Lilli, but chose not to carry over the German doll’s heavy make up and suggestively arched eyebrows. Another significant difference between the dolls were their feet.

According to M.G. Lord, author of Forever Barbie: The Unauthorized Biography Of A Real Doll, “Unlike Barbie, Lilli doesn’t have an arched foot with itty-bitty toes. She doesn’t even have a foot. The end of her leg is cast in the shape of a stiletto heeled pump and painted a glossy black.”

When looking at the original Lilli doll, as well as the comic strip she came from, it’s hard to miss that the “stiletto heel pump” that she wears are not modeled after any old black pumps… They are very telltale Fetish heels (marked by their signature sky-high heel, extreme arch, and very little distance between the sole of the shoe and the heel). In the comics, Lilli was irreverent, sexually uninhibited, and sassy as hell. In one strip, Lilli is shown, covering her naked body with a newspaper and explaining to a friend, “we had a fight, and he took back all the presents he gave me.”

Another shows Lilli in a bikini; when a police-

man tells her that two piece swimsuits are illegal, she says, “oh, and in your opinion, which part should I take off?”

As the Lilli dolls grew in popularity, so did the amount of accessories that could be bought with and for her. So while Lilli was cultivated in an adult market aimed at adult sexual humor, it was not long before they were coveted by children as well as adults. Adults who were familiar with the comic strip, and the novelty doll, were aware of its provocative nature. Ariel Levy, a journalist for The New Yorker magazine, once referred to Lilli as “a sex doll,” parents considered the doll inappropriate for children, and a German brochure from the 1950s described the doll as “always discreet” and with her impressive wardrobe she was “the star of every bar.”

But children, who do not inherently sexualize things they are not taught to sexualize, saw a beautiful doll with an endless supply of accessories that allowed them to create a dream world for themselves through their dolls.

It wasn’t long before Lilli dolls caught the eye of then 15-year-old Barbara Handler, who was vacationing in 1956 Switzerland with her mother, Ruth, a cofounder of the Mattel toy company. Ruth Handler ended up bringing three of the dolls home with her to California and just a few years later, on March 9, 1959, she introduced her adaptation of the Lilli dolls at the American International Toy Fair in New York.

The new dolls name? Barbie, named after Handler’s daughter.

By the time Barbie turned 50 in 2009, Mattel had sold more than 1 billion copies of their iconic doll, partly by cultivating its “wholesome image.” Handler, however, acknowledged that Barbie was undeniably sexier than most American dolls of her day, and she didn’t see anything wrong with thataccording to her 2002 obituary in the New York Times).

An interview that Ruth Handler did in 1977 was quoted in this obituary.

“ Every little girl needed a doll through which to project herself into her dream of her future. If she was going to do role-playing of what she would be like when she was 16 or 17, it was a little stupid to play with a doll that had a flat chest. So I gave it beautiful breasts.”

Mattel officially acquired the rights to Bild Lilli in 1964 and production of the German doll ceased. Barbie is now 64 years old, and while she remains one of the most iconic toys in history, let’s not forget the (fictitious) sex worker whose heels Barbie had to fill. C

Lilli on display at the Toy Museum in Prague - WikiCommons

UPCOMING EVENTS

M o n t h l y M o v i e s

ON THE BIG SCREEN

It stars Roy Scheider as police chief Martin Brody, who, with the help of a marine biologist (Richard Dreyfuss) and a professional shark hunter (Robert Shaw), hunts a man-eating great white shark that attacks beachgoers at a summer resort town. (RATED PG)

PRESENTED BY:

MARK & KELLY WAVRA

MAY 16 at 6:30pm

When New York City pianist Scott Bradlee created Postmodern Jukebox out of a basement in Queens in 2011, his goal was simple: to remake the pop hits of today into the classic sounds of the legends of yesterday. Now, nearly a decade later, Postmodern Jukebox has grown to become a pop culture mainstay in its own right, having played over a thousand shows on six continents worldwide.

SPONSORED BY:

JUN 07 at 7:30pm

Kinky Boots features a joyous, Tony-winning score by pop icon Cyndi Lauper, and a hilarious, uplifting book by four-time Tony winner, Harvey Fierstein. Charlie Price has reluctantly inherited his father’s shoe factory, which is on the verge of bankruptcy. Trying to live up to his father’s legacy and save his family business, Charlie finds inspiration in the form of Lola, a fabulous entertainer in need of some sturdy stilettos. As they work to turn the factory around, this unlikely pair find that they have more in common than they realized... and discover that when you change your mind, you can change your whole world.

BOOK BY MUSIC & LYRICS BY HARVEY FIERSTEINCYNDI

LAUPER

EVERYTHING IS FINE THE WATERMELON ISN’T VERY GOOD

By Varuca Salty

The other day I was at my parent’s house rummaging for snacks. I found some freshly cut watermelon in the fridge and grabbed it. My mom shouted from the other room, “The watermelon isn’t very good!” to which I replied, “that’s ok, I’m not picky.” As I stood there at the kitchen island eating not quite in season, not very sweet or ripe watermelon I started reflecting on all the times I’ve expressed how “not picky” I am. I’ve said that phrase probably thousands of times in my 30 some years of living. Maybe tens of thousands. Because, as it turns out, I’m always trying to appear way more chill than I actually am. With watermelon juice dripping down my fingers I entered an existential crisis, as one does. Am I actually not picky? Or is that just something that’s been trained into me from a lifetime of having my reality and needs denied? Something tells me it’s more likely the latter. I think “I’m not picky” might actually be code

for, “I’ve never been allowed to express my needs and therefore I take whatever I can get and don’t complain because I don’t want to make other people uncomfortable even at the expense of my own comfort.” That realization made me sort of sad. Why should I have to settle for a not that great watermelon? Is that all I really think I deserve? And it’s not just food that I’m not picky about. Let’s take a look at the other areas of life this mindset has affected me in.

“I’m not picky” has landed me in:

1) Abusive and toxic relationships.

2) Dating total losers.

3) Staying in situations way past the point of healthy or safe.

4) Living in a tent for 6 months of my life (not because I was a cool nature adventurer, but because that was the only option financially).

5) A constant state of identity crisis because I have no idea who I even am or what I like or want out of life.

Ugh. As all of these thoughts flooded me I was sort of shocked. How am I just now realizing that this is how I have been living for all these years? How am I just now seeing this problem? You see, I consider myself a pretty self aware person. Sometimes to a debilitating point even. I’ve had so many therapists tell me just how impressed with my self-reflection they are. I’m like, “yeah, I know, that’s why I’m here. I’m miserable.” But how many years have I just been skating by on auto-pilot? How many relationships have I gotten into and stayed in simply because, “meh, I’m not picky, this is fine enough.” The more I think about it, the more I realize I actually am pretty picky, I just stifle it because I have a history of people not honoring my needs (including myselfsurprise!). I don’t exactly know how to shift this way of existing. But I am way more aware of it than ever before. Baby steps, probably. Small, one degree changes toward more healthy choices. Maybe I’ll say something the next time I’m at a restaurant and they forget to bring my

lemonade instead of just politely drinking the water and pretending like I never ordered a drink in the first place. Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll use more discretion out in the world, dating and otherwise. Maybe the next partner who tries to convince me to quit my job and move to an island only to realize we can’t afford to live on said island and we end up having to live in a tent…just maybe I’ll tell them no. I will for sure tell them no. And run for my life. I’m learning everyday. I guess that’s kind of the point. I think I’ll also stop waiting for others to ask me what I want and just start asking myself. I will likely have no idea, but it still feels nice to be asked. And the more I practice asking for what I want, the easier it will get. I hope. This year, people pleasing is out and self-pleasing is in. No, that doesn’t sound quite right. Self-care? Fuck it, full on hedonism. I’ll ride that pendulum until I find the healthy middle ground I’m searching for. ‘Til next time… be picky, you deserve it. C

THE TOAST

THE FUNNY PAGES COMICS AND NOVELTIES

Helium Reserve

When does a joke turn into a dad joke? When it becomes apparent.

What’s ET short for? Because he’s only got tiny legs.

What do you call an alligator in a vest? An investigator.

JessicaDawn.Co

Original maze drawn by:

Clouds, May 2023

1) A recent study determined that even though the pandemic is hopefully nearing its end, a certain group of people will still likely be wearing their masks for the foreseeable futch. What type of people will you likely still see wearing a mask as the pandemic wanes?

A) People who are anti vaccination

B) People who don’t like talking with other people

C) People who don’t consume the news regularly

D) People who think they are ugly

2) Jamie Lee Curtis is maybe the original SCREAM QUEEN. A verified movie star. A badass. But she’s also more than that - one of the following statements about Jamie Lee Curtis is true, the rest I made up.

A) She got a law degree in Kentucky while at the height of her stardom

B) She has invented several different types of diapers

C) She raises money for nearly extinct butterflies

D) She’s too scared to watch horror movies

3) On the topic of famous movie stars, Robert Downey Jr sure had a comeback. From prison and full on addiction, we almost never had the Iron Man we love and know. Once, RDJ publicly accredited THIS to his sobriety:

A) Burger King

B) World of Warcraft

C) Sour Patch Kids

D) Phone Sex Lines

4) A recent survey in the UK asked people if they would go to the moon on a trip if it was paid for and also if their safety was guaranteed. Over half the surveyed declined, citing this:

A) Just a lack of interest

B) They would not have access to wifi for the trip

C) The journey would take too long

D) They would be unable to smoke or drink

It’s May and Apple Blossom is here! Annoying loud cars, far too much traffic, the smell of fried dough and grease lingering for miles. Ahh, there’s nothing quite like it.

Here is your horoscope based on what carnival ride/game your sign is:

Aries - The kid roller coaster that goes like 5 mph. Weee and whatever. Fits your level of maturity anyway.

Taurus - Ferris Wheel. Slow and steady. Kind of boring, but also kind of majestic. Like you.

Gemini - Zero Gravity - Maybe you remember this ride as The Round Up? If so, you’re probably old. And uncool. With back problems.

Cancer - The Scrambler. This ride is ridiculous. Someone always gets completely smashed in the corner while everyone else is having the time of their lives. You’re the smashed one, Cancer.

Leo - The Giant Slide. You know, the one with the super itchy burlap sacks. I guess it’s fun if that’s your thing. Mostly it’s just a lot of effort for very little reward.

Virgo - The Zipper. Spinning in a small metal cage with no way to let the ride operator know that you’re all done and want out. Sort of like being trapped in your own mind. So fun!

Libra - The Duck Game - Impossible to lose and yet… you manage to. When will you catch a break?

Scorpio - Kamikaze. Full of existential dread and far too much intensity.

Sagittarius - Tilt-A-Whirl. Now that’s a ride. Is it fun? Is it stressful? Am I laughing? Or am I about to cry? Hard to get a read on, like you Sag.

Capricorn - The Swings. Nothing says carnival like the crippling fear of your swing snapping and launching you into the Columbia River to your demise.

Aquarius - The Fun House - Is it actually fun or does it just call itself that to make itself feel better?

Pisces - The game where you shoot water in the clown’s mouth and the snot nosed kid beside you somehow ALWAYS wins.

ANSWERS: 1-D) People who think they are ugly. 2-B) She has invented several different types of diapers (some that hold wipes in a pocket). 3-A) Burger King (where he realized he needed to get healthier). 4-A) Just a lack of interest.