J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is currently trapped in suburbia, wondering where the lonely housewives are. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Fourth & Sycamore, Horror Sleaze Trash, Under the Bleachers, The Beatnik Cowboy and Reprehensible Digest. His most recent chapbook, the taste of blood on christmas morning, was published by Analog Submission Press. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (http://evildelights.blogspot.com)
Sometimes we will watch television together. She will sit like a crouched tiger ready to spring like a mousetrap, her frame hidden by a thick blanket, her legs resting on a stool, the dog next to her where she cuddles him and feeds him titbits off her supper plate affectionately. He doesn’t have to fight for her affections like I do. He transforms her into a maternal archetype of St. Francis. When she shouts, screams, she draws blood. I experience a rush of blood to the head. I see red. A furious beast spurned on by hate and a low, awful feeling of being rejected.
I sweat. I levitate like the crescent of a half-moon, glowing resplendently in the night sky. I glow. I shine. I try sometimes half-heartedly not to give in to her insults. How else can I defend myself? My mouth is shut obstinately as if I have just tasted something unpleasant and foul. It is curled at the edges. My lips in a pout.
Is she happy? Is she sad? Is she despondent? Is she glowing? What is her ransom that she holds for my happiness? Money. She spends her pay cheque all in one go. She lives beyond her means. She buys extraordinary beautiful things that are expensive and breakable. My father always admonishes her when she spends too much but she never heeds his warnings.
September’s contributions dig deep down to the essence of what it means to live and exist in our world, both physically and psychologically. Many works present aspects of life as they are, without extra layers of style or idealization.
Elizabeth Hughes reviews titles in her Book Periscope column that confront and explore intense themes: survival despite violent oppression and displacement in Urmila Patel’s Out of Uganda in 90 Days, love and other reasons why we as human beings connect sexually in Dr. Ramon Pinon’s Friction and Fantasy. Even the title that seems more lighthearted, Cynthia Snyder’s memoir To Keep a Butterfly from Flying, was written to highlight the struggles of international workers aboard cruise ships, some of whom are escaping dangerous situations or poverty in their home countries and seeking an avenue to provide for their families.
Mahbub shows us images of growth: people moving forward in their lives, adults learning, small children getting older and more adept and coordinated. Yet along with the growth there are car accidents and interpersonal acts of violence. We’ve got to reckon with ourselves as we live, figure out how to correct our course to minimize our losses as we move forward. Karen D’Antona’s poem, and her daughter Lynda Rondon’s accompanying illustration, acknowledges and mourns the seemingly random tragedies in our lives, with the September 11th attacks on the World Trade Center as an example.
Painter Norman J. Olson shares his experience of Belgian artist James Ensor’s work. Ensor was a member of the Belgian avant-garde movement and a precursor to Expressionism. He played with masks and identity, drew upon ancient Biblical themes including the Apocalypse and the entrance of Christ to Jerusalem in triumph (although he replaced the city with Brussels) while responding to his contemporary society. Scholars have pointed to Ensor’s work as an illustration of changes in how Western societies viewed ordinary people.
Doug Hawley presents the tension of changing identity in a more communal, societal sense with his futuristic, hyperbolic spoof articles commenting on the paradoxes of city life: tolerance and economic opportunity vs high prices, crowding and lack of resources. He explores how Oregonians cope with the influx of imagined future Californian refugees, how a more rural area would deal with a sudden rush of people from more urban areas.
Grounding oneself to our physical world can shake us out of reveries and drive us to confront raw, immediate reality.
Tony Nightwalker LeTigre reviews Doug Cook’s Tae Kwon Do: A Path to Excellence, which highlights the internal psychological effects of the martial arts practice. Ritualized body movement can encourage individual practitioners to change how they think and become more confident, and, in turn, the practitioners are changing how the martial arts teachers conceptualize the practice. Jeongeui contributes paintings of nature that she links to her attitudes and her dreams for her life. As with the practice of Tae Kwon Do, the physical world and bodily experiences can inspire and mirror changes in our thoughts.
We hope that this issue drives home some intense, real, and elemental thoughts for each of you.
