Janus: Spring 2011

janus

JANUS

a magazine of literature and arts

____________________

volume 47 spring 2011

____________________

The Williston Northampton School Easthampton, Massachusetts

janus staff

editors:

Katherine Tallman

Nick Brady Pankti Dalal Rachel Deena Devon Greenwood Jilly Lim Emily McHugh

cover photograph: Bone by Emily McHugh

faculty advisor: Sarah Sawyer

contents

The Essence of Verve, a short prose piece by Nick Brady….5 Death’s Sonnet, a poem by Henry Lombino….6 Meat, a short story by Rae Underberg….7 Ground, a photograph by Emily McHugh….10 Blue Sky, a photograph by Laura Bowman….11 Clothesline, a photograph by Maria Strycharz….12 vacation for scum, a poem by Jeff Eichenberger….13 Three Film Endings, an imagined proposal by Katherine Tallman….15

We are without a doubt the essence of verve, a filled persona coalesced into...something more. A pale fire burnt to embers left in the pit. We are gentle commas, swept along the coast until the sand is mixed, each grain making way for another. And although we crash upon the rocks we are one still, piecing ourselves together again until in some cloistered sense of self‐ awareness we float together, up into the stars, before we fall back in scaled copies of our world, to the sea from which we came. It is a process destined to repeat, and the silver that will be with me for eternity. You and I are the lining, filling the oceans, the lakes, the rivers, the sky; transfigured to fit the valleys upon which we fall.

By Nick Brady

Death's Sonnet He enters, figure hid in Shadow's cloak A world of one has crumbled below feet Disaster's watch is ticking till the ending stroke When he shall lend a hand to end and greet The one looks up, his sight a long thin aisle And meets a mask of jests and laughing jeers With ex'd out eyes, it mocks itself a while But can you laugh at greatest man's last fear?

The one has not yet taken to the hand The mask then asks “Am I too much a fright?”

A vision you did not expect or plan?”

A fiendish savior, courting you tonight.”

The smile is upon frozen lips and bends.

The mask will say “Let death and you be friends.”

By Henry Lombino

Meat

One foot in front of the other, over and over again. He was breathing heavy, panting as he ran. Pushing harder and harder, he had one good spurt of speed left as he approached his house. He sprinted down the straightaway, stopping winded at the end of his driveway, sweat dripping down his face. It was a cold damp morning. Dew covered the grass on the lawn and the air stuck in his lungs after each breath. It was almost refreshing after his run because it was cool, but the old air and moisture in his chest made it slightly uncomfortable.

Jim went up the front steps to pick up the newspaper, his hands getting wet from the drops of water sliding over the plastic bag safeguarding the news of the day. “Honey, I think I’ll go to the grocery store today,” he shouted into his wife as he closed the front door behind him.

She was still in bed; Sunday was their only day off. Jim owned a hardware store and needed to be there six days a week, and Lisa was teacher, but she spent her Saturdays tutoring for extra money. Jim went upstairs, handed Lisa the paper, and began undressing. He pulled his t‐shirt over his head and slipped off his shorts, then threw both into the hamper in the closet and went to the bathroom to take a shower. Opening the glass doors, he turned the hot water on all the way and then leaned on the sink, waiting. He watched the steam slowly seep out from the enclosed shower and fill the small bathroom all the way to the corners. He waited until the fog on the mirror crept from the edges, so he could no longer see his reflection in the mirror before getting into the hot water.

Jim stood underneath the shower head, letting the hot water beat against his back. He picked up the soap after a minute or so and worked up a white lather over his body. Although he was a few years past his youthful prime, he was still in fairly good shape, his muscles moving back and forth, shrinking and growing as he used his hands. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, covering it with white foam.

Jim thought he could stay in the shower like this forever, continually cleaning his skin and hair, but he knew he had to get out. Drying himself with a towel, he went back into the bedroom and got dressed in jeans and a long‐sleeved shirt.

“I’m going to the store now to get some more milk. What else do we need?” he asked his wife, who was already more than halfway through the paper.

“Well, we need bread and eggs and some fruit and if you want steak for dinner tonight, we need meat. Why don’t I just go with you?” she said, putting the paper down.

“No, it’s fine. Finish the paper. Bread, eggs, fruit, and steak. I got it.”

“And the milk. See, why don’t I just go with you?”

“No. Really it’s fine. You can relax. I’ll just write it all down.”

He left the room and came back with a pad and pen. He read the list off to her one more time, bread, eggs, fruit, steak, and MILK.

“Anything else?” he asked with the pen uncapped in his left hand.

“Well no, not unless you need more Special K. I thought you would have run out by now. Are you sure you don’t want me to come?

It’ll only take me a minute to get ready.”

“No; it’s fine. I’ll be back soon.”

He leaned and gave her a kiss goodbye, but when he pulled away, she grabbed his hand and pulled him back. She gave him one more kiss goodbye and then watched him walk out the door. Getting into the car Jim backed out of the driveway and went in the opposite direction of the grocery store. He drove a few miles out of town and then got on the highway and started driving back. On Sunday afternoon no one was on the road so he pressed down on the gas pedal, slowly increasing speed at first, then harder, accelerating faster and feeling the force push him back in his seat. He liked the tingling feeling running through his veins as the car increased speed and got more and more difficult to control. His heart began to slow as he took the exit ramp off the highway and pulled into the lot in front of the grocery store.

Grabbing a cart out front, he shuddered as the cold air blew on him when he walked through the automatic sliding doors. Like a man on a mission, he went straight to the refrigerator aisle and grabbed the milk and eggs. Then he got the bread and headed over to the produce section and picked out some fruit to add to the cart. He looked at the shiny apples piled high in a pyramid, and thinking they all looked the same, he just grabbed the ones on top. As for the oranges, he picked the brightest ones, smelling the strong citrus before putting each one in the thin plastic bag and then tied a tight knot once the bag was full. When Jim got to the butcher section he began to linger. As he walked through the section he began to wonder why he was moving so slowly in such an eerie part of the market. The lights had a bright fluorescent glow but for some reason this back corner seemed darker than the others. There was a constant high‐pitched creaking noise as though one of the lights was swinging, but every time he looked up, he could not locate the culprit. He stepped in a small puddle, breaking his trance, and looked over the packages of frozen meat. He began to think about the life of a cow. They live great for a few years, getting fed, cared for, pampered even and everything’s just perfect. Then, one day, BAM, they get the ax, chopped up into pieces, frozen, and put into packages. What a life.

He stood a moment longer, just looking at the icy slabs of meat. He studied each bloody package, each raw cut of meat with different amounts of pasty white fat marbled through the red muscle. He picked one of the packages in the front of the freezer but replaced it and got one from the back remembering something about fresher meat being in the back, closer to the butcher. He poked the dead cow with his index finger, submerged up to the end of his nail in cold meat; he dropped the package back into the cold and wiped his hand off on his jeans. Then he turned away and paid for what he already had in the cart. He carried the bags to the car and loaded them in the passenger’s seat. The grocery store had been fairly empty so he still had time before he needed to get back. At first he drove through the town, but then gave into the urge to get back on the highway and just drive. He thought he could drive forever, just keep pressing the accelerator.

Jim got off the highway slowing down the roaring engine, just to get back on again and experience the acceleration once more.

Challenging the small car, he pressed the gas pedal down and weaved in and out of lanes, his body quivering with excitement. His heart pounded and he could hear the blood rushing through his veins. He got off the highway, but didn’t slow down, the smaller side streets posing more of a challenge to his reflexes. Jim began to sweat as he cruised by cars, passing with only inches to spare in between. He thought he should have been a race car driver; that would have been satisfying. When he turned up the straightaway, he accelerated one last time. He took his foot off the gas pedal and let the car slow down as he pulled into the driveway. He pulled the keys out of the ignition and sat for a moment, watching Lisa as she drank her cup of coffee and finished the paper on the couch in the living room.

By Rae Underberg

Ground by Emily McHugh

Kites by Laura Bowman

Clothesline by Maria Strycharz

vacation for scum

the sea air is intoxicating as you stumble through seaside heights or perhaps it just seems that way after drowning yourself in beer and asphyxiating yourself with cigarettes

you nearly trip over the foyer of the hotel searching hopefully for your room before realizing with despair that this is not your hotel you cannot afford this

the beach life here is paradoxical and you can’t help but be aware of it as you move mildly conscious past broken homes towards the lights and sounds and ostentatious grandeur of that filthy place we call the boardwalk

you get there and you immediately question why you came the children everywhere contribute to the misery of it all the food will likely make you sick especially while swarms of obese families engulf you like locusts cops glare at you incessantly and every time you see a miniskirt you think “oh …jailbait again!” and try to avert your gaze

now your head droops to spit inconspicuously so disgusted by the screams of consumerism surrounding you that you toss your half‐eaten cheese steak to the trash and make for the beach

dodging couples on blankets like landmines in the sand the lapping waves are more inviting than humanity the ocean beckons to you as if you were a kid again the vast mystery of it all is entrancing you used to dream of walking across it and now you wish to go forth and die

By Jeff Eichenberger

Three Film Endings

I like when movies end with a rock song playing in the background. Here are some songs that would make good movie endings. I have also written the plots of these films.

Song: This Must Be the Place by Talking Heads

Film Summary: Joe is insurance man who, in the film, goes on a ten year suburban odyssey to get away from child and obscenely loyal wife. He tries drugs, nearly dies, and in one riveting scene watches a stripper named Circe tell his cat‐calling buddies that they are a group of swines. However, after ten years of philandering, Joe decides to come home. The film ends with Joe returning to his house and being greeted by his thrilled wife and child, while this song plays in the background. Joe is home and he is happy. Well at least he is for the moment, but let’s not think about how he’s going to run away again next week.

Song: More Than This by Roxy Music Film Summary: Donna and Alan were baby boomers who were too young to experience the sixties, but had a lot of fun in the seventies. Some of their fun adventures include joining a commune, joining a cult, being Maoists around the time everyone realizes that you shouldn’t support him, cheating on each other at Studio 54, and getting drunk with Joey Ramone at the CBGB’s. Now it’s the eighties and Donna and Alan have abandoned their swinging ways to be Wall‐Street yuppies. The film ends with Alan reclining on his couch in his Manhattan apartment and saying to Donna “there is nothing more than this.” She stares into the camera in horror while this song plays and the credits roll. Also, it is 1987 and the stock market is about to crash.

Song: Train in Vain by The Clash Film Summary: Oswald is a young working class British man who’s just trying to make ends meet in Thatcher’s England. One day he meets, and begins to date, Nancy, the pretty girl who works at the local discotheque. She introduces Oswald to a gang of skinheads, and he starts performing small favors for them as a way to pay rent for his small apartment in the brutalist style housing project that he lives in. The skinheads turn out to be bad friends. They blame him for their murder of a local Pakistani boy, and Oswald gets arrested. Oswald goes to court and in a courtroom scene that occurs only in movies (and Jodi Piccoult novels) he watches Nancy testify against him and realizes she set him up. The film ends with this song playing, while Oswald is dragged to prison, watching Nancy walk away with her new skinhead boyfriend.

By Katherine Tallman