Table of Contents

RKYV # 21 {February 2009}

RKYV ONLINE LOGO - David Marshall {current}
- Roy G. James {original}
- R.J. Pare {original online adaptation}

Virtual Cover # 21
- Art by Stephen Gibb
- Layouts by R.J. Paré Short Fiction
- “The Magic Mushrooms – Part II”
Interior Art - By Jim Gibson
- by Josh Bowe, Lee Ann Marie
Macdonald, Dragan Petrovic Debesh, Poetry
Jonathan Biermann, Lisa Marie Mueller, - By Larissa Gula, CS Cartier, R.J. Paré
Stan Nelson, Victor Castro, Cindy Renfrow,
Stephen Gibb, Tariq Rafiq Non-Fiction
- “Futurism in the Funnies”
Editorial Column - “At the Outset:” - By Roy G. James
- A Few Thoughts from the Editor
- By RJ Paré Family Life
- “Drunken Dragon Tavern”
Health - By Christina Marchetti
- “Tom’s Therapeutic Tidings” - “Great Food on a Tight Budget”
- By Tom Rossini - By Pauline Paré
- “How to be Happy”
- By CS Cartier Pop Culture
- “Comic Book Review”
Featured Artist Review - By Brad Bellmore
– Stephen Gibb - “Raised On Saturday morning Cartoons”
- By R.J. Paré - By Pauline Pare

page 1
 At the Outset

A few thoughts from the Editor – by R.J. Pare’

Before I begin I would like to take a few
moments and speak my mind on the thrilling
and exciting topic of intellectual property.

Stop that – no falling asleep.

Every creator, these days, seems to think they

will one day be exalted as Masters of their
given field. Either that or they have convinced
themselves that they would be fabulously
wealthy if not for all those “internet thieves”
robbing them of perceived windfalls.

Okay... let’s breathe here.

Photographers, Writers, Painters, musicians etc – we all need to stop being so bloody
uptight. All works of art, of any kind, are derivative in some fashion or another - unless
you have the unmitigated gall to claim your works have zero inspiration outside of your
own fertile imagination and that said imagination has never once watched TV, read a
book, listened to music, viewed art etc.

All of our experiences have an effect on our perspectives and thus play a part in our
creative processes. Collage - as an art form, for example, is as valid as any other.

Allow me to illustrate an example from literature:

For argument’s sake let us say that I am writing a novel. In the novel one of the
characters is singing his favourite tune during a scene. I write his dialogue and continue
with the story. Now say that the song in question, that I used a few lines of as dialogue, is
a well known popular song… does this mean my novel has now violated copyright?

That is ridiculous - period

Throughout the history of humankind we can find numerous examples in classical art and
literature where creators have derived something new, based in part [whether large or
small] on the works of those who came before them. It is a matter of degree.
page 2
If I am flat out plagiarizing another author than of course I should be prosecuted.
If, however, one of my characters spouts off a familiar line of song or poetry, during a
story, than that should be fine.

The same applies to visual or audio arts. If someone has “sampled” something another
artist has created as a mere portion of some work they are creating… all that should be
required is the posting of credit as to where all materials used originated from.

This, of course, is an ongoing debate as technologies change and the web brings the
entire world to your finger-tips. True copyright violation should only be accused if the
derived work is nothing more [or little more] than a repackaging of the original work… if
however the artist in question is actually creating a new piece of art then it should be
respected and we should quit griping.

The above is just my opinion and legal definitions of copyright vary from country to
country – but wouldn’t it be nice if we all got along and didn’t crack down on the kid
doing magazine collage or the student posting a home made video etc?

This issue of RKYV I am glad to present the wonderfully surreal art of Stephen Gibb. I
highly recommend his entertaining works that seem, to me at least – equal parts
surrealism and 1960’s psychedelia.

Once again our regular

columnists, Larissa Gula, Tom
Rossini, Christina Marchetti,
Brad Bellmore and Pauline Pare’
join us - bringing their humour,
wit and respective points of view
to the topics they explore. This
month we also welcome CS
Cartier and his first column
“How to be Happy” to our pages.

With that… I will sign off for

this month, but not before
leaving you with this piece of
advice:

Find your creative outlet and

embrace it. Nothing will nourish
your mind and soul quite so
much as the artistic offspring of
your imagination.

Jake ‘The Snake’ Roberts – by Jon Biermann page 3

Untitled – by Lisa Marie Mueller page 4
 Health

Tom’s Therapeutic Tidings

– By Tom Rossini
How Randy can deal with Male Pattern
Baldness!!!

Many men suffer from hair loss either due to

medical problems or genetics. And for Randy it
has to be due to genetics as we know that he has
no medical problems.

In the past men often let nature take its course

and deal with the patches of hair-loss or go to
the barber and have them trim it down with those nice electric trimmers, shave that head bald or
try that spray on hair. That definitely doesn't mean that many men weren't upset about it though
or even embarrassed and some people even think Randy looks better this way.

Today most men seem to take more pride in looking younger and their very best but for Randy…
well that’s another story. The fact that there is a male hair loss treatment for them to benefit from
is encouraging. While most men don't talk about it, they may have already had some procedures
done but Randy just keeps it short.

[Editor’s Note: I started buzzing

my hair down, years ago, when
I joined the CAF Reserve and
have kept it that way ever since.
If I were to let it grow out there
most definitely would be bald
patches – LOL Besides I’m a
writer what the hell do I need a
fancy hairdo for anyway? Take
a looksee at what can happen
when a writer lets their hair
grow out – Charles Dickens
may be revered amongst the
literati but his hair makes it
awfully difficult to take him
seriously. Good thing there was
no FaceBook back then, eh
Chuck?]

Charles Dickens – by Roger Davidson

page 5
But in all seriousness, it is important to take a realistic look at the issue of male hair loss
treatment. While there are quite a few options out there, more than 90% of them really don't
work. Before spending your hard earned dough on these so called miracle cures, you have to get
to the source of the problem. There are a few types of medication that can work well as male hair
loss treatment. You may find you are a good candidate to use them and that you get decent results
to find this out you will want to consult a dermatologist.

Another form of acceptable medical

treatment is Laser therapy which is a
very common type of male hair loss
treatment. This form of therapy can be
pricey but it is also very effective.
Laser therapy works by stimulating the
hair follicles on the head. Basically by
using the laser it increases the flow of
blood to the hair shaft which can help a
man re-grow hair that he thought was
gone forever. The process can be time
consuming though before you see results
so you have to be patient. For the best
results you need to get treatment as soon
as you start to notice your hair falling
out.

Another form of treatment is hair

transplantation. Hair Transplantation is
the most expensive form of treatment
and it can be quite painful. This involves
taking hairs from other areas of the head
and then inserting them in the areas
where they have fallen out. This is a
type of surgery that requires one section
of the head to be done at a time. It can
take several weeks for the area to heal
up and most men find their scalp is
tender and itchy. However, this is a
procedure that does seem to work very
well when other male hair loss treatment
has failed.
The Rock – by Jon Biermann

If you suffer from hair loss there is no reason to just allow it to continue. Find the right
male hair loss treatment option for you.

[Editor’s Note: Okay Tom, tough guy, you be the one to tell ‘The Rock’ that he needs a
hair transplant – but please give us all a head’s up when you do. I want front row seats!]

Page 6
 Cliff’s Notes:
How to be Happy
- By CS Cartier

How does one become happy?

To travel a path towards happiness there

must be an accepted and understood
meaning. If each of us has a different
definition, then following steps would be
useless and ultimately futile. Happiness
is a feeling, right? Well, sure it is. But
what is that feeling?

To be happy is to be content. I just ate a really good dinner, not too much to over eat and
I am content. The food will digest and I will eventually get hungry again; just learning
that food made me happy I naturally want that feeling to continue. To find that feeling
again I eat but discover not contentment, but a sweet tooth. Happiness galore comes to
the king of the castle and his big piece of pie and mountains of whipped topping. So I eat
more and more searching for that bubble of happiness that I thought I had discovered.
Before long my contentment is a big gut above my belt. This does not make me happy in
the slightest. So I can most definitely agree that food while bringing contentment surely
does not bring true happiness. Factually speaking, I am miserable that I have to starve
myself and hit the weights.

To be happy is to be pleased. My wife and I just had sex, thus I am pleased. So

therefore I am happy. This shall continue forever until… “Not tonight honey, I have a
headache.” To make a long story short, not happy. Cheating on her, while bringing the
‘pleased’ feeling back, will end eventually [most likely with a divorce and the wife taking
everything I own]. No, I can say this would not please me or make me happy.

Joyful or cheerful are also words that describe happiness. Joy and cheer are words that
do not fall into my everyday conversations. I felt joy when my child was born, and her
giggles are filled with cheer. I would conclude that children bring happiness. The
sounds she would make became babbling which then morphed into her first words.
‘Dadda’ was a sound that brought me happiness and joy. Her first words, turned loud and
screechy. Screams became demands and knowledge and learning taught the word ‘NO’.
Oh, that is a word coming from her mouth that does not make me happy at all. No sir,
make no mistake, the children of this world would forever be cute if that word was never
allowed to exit their tiny little mouths. I am forced to conclude happiness comes with the
child but grows with them and becomes work, regret, and ideas of what to do with the
roll of duct tape that is hanging in the garage.
page 7
Happy can be used to describe being in high spirits. I went to church to discover if this
is true. The collection plate took my money, I could not find the god that everyone said
would be there to answer my prayers and I blew my engine getting home. If religion
makes one happy, I would rather be sad with a car that still works and a wallet filled with
some green bills.

Blissful, I heard is true happiness. The neighborhood bully is apparently the local crime
boss (who knew). He hooks me up with a nickel bag. I get home and hide it from the
kids and wife. I haven’t yet even rolled or lit the joint but already my heart is pumping
and I’m filled with an incredible exhilaration. Blissful certain did make me happy. As a
matter of fact, the screaming kids really didn’t bother me in the slightest while in my
bliss. They were cute and cheerful and joy filled again. I was so mellow, that sex was
beyond gratifying. I really do not even remember if my wife was there. The gut above
my waist melted away and all I did was eat and continuously got the munchies. Blissful
brought the discovery of god, who needs a church. I do not even need my car because I
don’t want to go anywhere. The party is always here. I’m not sure why, but my wife was
jealous that I was happy for she left me and took my kids. My job for some stupid reason
fired me, and I spent my life savings on happiness. I’m not a genius but perhaps the price
of bliss is way too high.

Circles and Squares – by Josh Bowe page 8

 There is a dollar bill attached to this
mysterious emotion and apparently
strings.

Now that my family is gone, I am sad

and lonely. This is the opposite of
happy. Could family be an important
recipe ingredient to happiness?

Well, I would ponder that further but a

gruff looking police officer is
screaming at me for sleeping on the
park bench. No job means, no home
and living on the streets is not fun or
blissful. Could having a welcoming
home be important to joy and cheer?
Working hard to earn the respect of my
peers may have something to do with
being truly pleased but not a true
feeling of happiness, just contentment
with myself. I believe perhaps
happiness might come from within and
not from what we can get.

Another scream from the officer, and I

shuffle away. On the ground I discover
a misplaced twenty. I smile, happy that
I am about to be content.

Under Fire – by Tindersen Blacktree Hoopdriver

One should begin by truly being a part of their loving family. Therefore, one needs to
review their relationships with his/her parents; brothers and sisters, other relatives and
friends. Do the things you do every day improve these relationships or make them
worse? Parents will always love their children even if they do not like their attitudes.
Brothers and sisters will always be some of your best friends for life.

To be happy you also need the common comforts—adequate food and shelter—we all
have a dream of owning our own home someday. Nice clothes, a new car, etc. are nice
but not totally necessary to be happy.

How do you buy the common comforts and fulfill your dreams? You could have been
born to rich parents who give you everything you want. This makes sure you never quit
asking and are always unhappy that you didn’t ask for more.
page 9
You could have parents who care that you work hard at school to give you the
opportunity to get a higher paying job. You won’t enjoy working for near minimum
wage very much—you will never own a new car or buy your own home. Many of the
arguments with parents and spouses usually center around a lack of money. Depending
on government handouts will not always make you happy.

How do you work hard?

Most people would rather play or watch TV rather than do homework or study.
Parents must make sure that children are taught that the secret to success is hard work.
Once you work hard you get to choose what work you do and get higher paying jobs.
You can continue to work hard or choose to enjoy an easier life style. You don’t want to
have to accept any menial job at low pay simply because you have no choice.

Working hard means discipline. Parents have to teach their children to do the right
things that will make them happy in the long term and not those that will make them sad.
Learning to do the right thing is usually less fun than doing the wrong thing in the short
term. Learning the right things will make you happy in the longer term. If you are a
guest in someone’s home they will not discipline you—but if you live with them they
have to assume the responsibilities of a parent and must discipline.

A young girl will soon turn into a young lady. She needs a mother to explain the physical
and emotional changes that we go through from ages 13-19.

When are we happy?

We will be happy when we have control of our life and can do the things that we choose
to do. We are happy when we are able to say—what I/we have may not be much to others
but I earned it and I am doing things –MY WAY.

Therefore we are happy when we make the right decisions and we learn to live by
them.

_ page 10
Smiley - by R.J. Paré
Untitled – by Engin Korkmaz page 11
 Featured Artist Review

Stephen Gibb – by R.J. Paré

We’ve got a treat for you this month as we
feature the far-out surreal imagery of Stephen
Gibb’s art. Stephen would have fit in quite well
with the west coast head shop art scene of the late
60’s. His work strips away the carefully
cultivated personas people erect and lays bare the
primal emotions and turmoil that exist beneath.
With a technique and fine arts polish that reminds
one of Salvador Dali combined with the humour
and perspective, on the human condition, of
Robert Crumb – Stephen’s work captivates.
Here’s some info I pulled from Stephen’s
website:

The gory details.....

Stephen was dropped on his head as a baby while

his mother was visiting the Museum of Modern
Art. Ever since, he has been drawing, painting
and scratching in a non-stop orgy of creation. His
paintings are psychological offerings, rich in
irony and distortions, bristling with sublime,
psychotropic colours.

Human forms struggle in an existential blending of mind and machine yet up through the
conflict a subtle black humour percolates. Always wear your helmet.

He is a member of Her Majesty's Secret Art Assembly, a collective of artists living and
working in the Detroit/Windsor area. He is also a graduate of the University of Windsor's
Lebel School of Art.

http://www.stephengibb.com/

page 12
 Obligatory Artist's Statement

I like to offer the viewer a disruption, or a mental speed-bump to take them out of themselves for
a moment and allow them to re-interpret or re-examine their notions on the subjects engaged.

By presenting images in a formal painting style which is then infused with contemporary cultural
cues and themes I feel I can involve the viewer in a familiar experience while subtly directing
them into uncharted territory. The object - the painting - becomes more than an aesthetic object
but a vehicle of transcendence as the subject and object begin a two-way dialogue inside the
viewers mind.

As the viewer puzzles over the content and mental sleight-of-hand I gently grab their wallets and
push them into the abyss...

Stephen Gibb, 2005

Title: Death lies between
Artist: Stephen Gibb
Media Used: Oil on wood
Size: 30 X 24
Date Created: 2008
R.J. Paré: This is an intriguing composition. At first glance it
appears to portray a duality within man - with neither side
being dominant. Our separate natures are shown to be pulling
us in seemingly different directions. Of course, we are more
complex in nature and have more sides or aspects of our
personalities than just two.

As I look at this picture more closely I can see this element at work. Neither ‘side’ is truly a
‘whole’ rather each side is a composite of different impulses and emotions. We find fear and
anger sharing space; curiosity and happiness seeking common ground. In the end all our plans,
hopes and impulses will, despite their best efforts, bring us to the same destination. Our own
mortality lies at the end of every person’s journey be they sinner or saint.
page 13
1. R.J. Paré: Have you always known that you wanted to be or, rather, were an artist?

Stephen Gibb: I didn’t know until I was about 7 years old when my teachers started
making a fuss and I realized the other kids couldn’t draw. Up until that point I must have
not noticed or cared.

2. RJP: Did you study or major in art while in school?

SG: Yup. University of Windsor, Private First Class.

Title: Salad days

Artist: Stephen Gibb
Media Used: Oil on wood, aluminum
dollar bills
Size: 20 X 26
Date Created: 2009

RJP: The pursuit of the almighty

dollar… How much anxiety does the
average person experience when trying
to balance needs and wants with how
much cash is actually in the kitty. We
desire more and more of it, almost to
the point of lunacy. We should ask
ourselves, is this really what life is all
about? Stephen pokes fun at our need
to ‘keep up with the Joneses’ in this
piece.

We may crave the cash… but

ultimately it cannot nourish us.

3. RJP: Who was your biggest influence or source of encouragement, as a child, in

pursuing art?

SG: I always thought that both my parents were pretty good with drawing and they
always made things by hand. I think I latched on to this trait early and never looked back.

page 14
Title: Let them eat cake
Artist: Stephen Gibb
Media Used: Oil on wood
Size: 24 X 24
Date Created: 2008

RJP: Here Stephen has

creatively exposed one the
classical ‘Seven Deadly Sins’
– Gluttony - in all its wanton
abandon. Within each of us
exists the urge to throw
caution and good sense to the
wind and gorge ourselves,
literally and figuratively, on
opportunities.

In the end, are we to be ruled

by reason or be slaves to
animal impulse.

4. RJP: What is your favourite media to work with?

SG: Oil paint on board. There is a quality that oil paint has that other paints just can’t
match, almost three dimensional if done correctly. Also I’m not a fan of canvas. I like a
nice stiff surface to work on.

5. RJP: Do you use any special tools and techniques to create your art?

SG: I use my own version of the glazing technique perfected in the Renaissance period.
It’s a bastardized method that utilizes the basic principles (layers of thin transparent paint
on top of another) but yields similar results. Otherwise it’s just normal brushes and off-
the-shelf paint.

6. RJP: What inspires you to create art?

SG: I’m no neuroscientist but I’d suspect my brain is to blame. As to what causes the art
to jiggle free—it could be anything from nursery rhymes to theoretical physics.
page 15
 RJP: Not only has Stephen mastered the painting of
Title: Smashed hyper-expressive features… but this composition
Artist: Stephen Gibb effectively combines elements of modern sculpture with
Media Used: Oil on wood, the addition of the rubber mallet interacting visually with
rubber mallet the oil painting.
Size: 30 X 24
Date Created: 2008 This is a striking and powerful piece, one that I
immediately chose to use on this months cover of RKYV
ONLINE.
7. RJP: How would you categorize your artistic style?

SG: Somewhere in Windsor, in a dark abandoned warehouse, Section B, Aisle 6, on the top shelf
covered in dust there is a post-it note stuck to the cover of André Bretton’s Surrealist Manifesto
that says “Guess Again!”

I don’t put much stock in self-categorization. I’ll let someone else debate that catalogue number
for me. Maybe that’s why I’m not filthy rich yet! Since this article will feature my paintings,
maybe your readers can decide and send in their responses. That would be interesting.

page 16
8. RJP: Would you say that there is a "message" or "unifying theme" in your work?

SG: Yes. Existentialism, emotion and human nature.

9. RJP: Which famous artists or styles have influenced you? Why?

SG: I’m always a little embarrassed to answer this and I don’t know why, maybe I find it
too personal, too revealing. Let me try and break it down. When I was a kid (5-6) I loved
comic book stuff. Since I was a kid in the 60s I loved Rat Fink and all that “groovy”
psychedelic art of the time. Then I discovered Norman Rockwell (in a comic book of all
places). I liked how he could editorialize a message in a simple image. By the time I
was11 or 12 I discovered Hieronymus Bosch, Breugel and Salvador Dali all at pretty
much the same time. Something deep inside connected with me that I just can’t explain.
It just made sense. I loved the mystery of their paintings and the way things look real but
unreal at the same time. I think Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights is the most important
art object in existence.

Title: Smashed
Artist: Stephen Gibb
Media Used: Oil on wood,
metal, rubber
Size: 30 X 30
Date Created: 2009

RJP: An interesting and

creative commentary on
mortality and the effect it has on
the human psychology, [as only
a surrealist can provide].

Stephen’s clock is ticking, for

the aged, wrinkly figure in
question and for each one of us.

The question is do we travel towards this certainty with fear and anxiety or can accept our
limited longevity with dignity and grace?

page 17
 Title: Unhinged
Artist: Stephen Gibb
Media Used: Oil on wood,
metal
Size: 18 X 24
Date Created: 2008

RJP: The true bane of old age is not a

slowness of step or the weakening of our
limbs. Our greatest fear as we grow older is
the loss of our mental faculties. Senility is a
very real concern for those approaching their
golden years. In true satirical form, Stephen
takes that apprehension and gives it a
humorous twist through the ‘literal’
representation of a mind – unhinged.

10. RJP: If you could meet any living or

dead artist, who would it be?

SG: Hero worship is just weird. I don’t think

I would. Maybe the guy who made the Venus
of Willendorf (24,000 B.C.) just for fun.

11. RJP: What is the one question that you would ask him/her?

Unga bunga??

12. RJP: What do you think of the term "starving artist"?

SG: I guess that’s a choice. You could be a starving accountant or a starving doctor but
that doesn’t sound so romantic. I think it’s a Disney version of art. The artist who
struggles to keep a vision alive, who battles the odds and dies penniless only to be exalted
posthumously is such a contrived Hollywood convention. “You won’t be famous until
your dead” is such a hollow crock of shit. People flock to clichés like security blankets
and spout them off without thinking. “Starving artist” fits that category. If you feel
compelled to make art but are unwilling to face reality then maybe you should consider
another calling. I wanted to make art on my own terms and found that the only way to do
that was not rely on it for my sustenance. I don’t want to have to answer to anyone, I
don’t want to yield to a trend to be popular and cash in on what’s selling. I want what I
do to be exactly what I want to do without grooming it or diminishing it for the
marketplace.
Page 18
13. RJP: Do you feel more a sense of community with other artists or a sense of competition?

SG: Strangely enough, Windsor has an amazing sense of community in the arts right now. My art
friends from other cities can’t get over it and I just took it for granted until a few years ago. Now I
really embrace it. It will inevitably evolve and hopefully make Windsor stronger. As for
competition...I think some people look over their shoulders when they make art and others are
inspired by challenge.

14. RJP: How do you market yourself?

SG: Go to Google and type in Stephen Gibb.

Title: Goofy
Artist: Stephen Gibb
Media Used: Oil on wood
Size: 12 X 12
Date Created: 2008
RJP: I simply love images that seem to change the longer you
observe them. At first glance this is a smiling happy face. A
closer look would convince you that the cheesy twit is a little
on the ‘Goofy’ side [thus the title]. However, stare at this piece
a little longer and I dare you to tell me there isn’t something
menacing about it.

I am reminded of Nicholson’s ‘Jack Torrance’ [from The

Shining] the grin, a thinly veiled disguise for the deranged
mania ready to burst forth, at any moment, with violent
consequences.

Page 19
Title: Middle brain dominant
Artist: Stephen Gibb
Media Used: Oil on wood,
steel saw
Size: 28 X 22
Date Created: 2008
RJP: Stephen’s use of juxtaposition in exploring the
vagaries of human emotional / psychological identity is,
once again, on display it all its inventiveness. Our impulse
is to simplify the imagery and reduce what we see to
visual syllogisms on the nature of duality. But it’s not that
easy. We aren’t 50% rational and 50% artistic… there is
more to the human condition than what can be
summarized in a right versus left brain argument.

Thus the Solomon like division of self is halted by the discovery of something
unexpected. The middle brain concept can be a synergy of complimentary attributes from
both the left and right brain paradigms that in collaboration are greater than the sum of
their parts. It is of no great surprise that eastern philosophies locate the mystic ‘third eye’
in pretty much the same place.

Could this be a certain ‘element of being’ humans have sought to discover and define for
millennia. The middle brain – the soul?
Page 20
15. RJP: Do you find it difficult to stay motivated / inspired?

SG: Motivated is a grown-up way of saying “You have to do this”. It’s the same soft abstract gun
your parents held to your head to get you to do things you’d rather not but knew you had to.
Homework, chores and other mundane crap. If I had to stay “motivated” to do art I sure wouldn’t
be doing it. I absolutely love doing it. The concepts. The process. The mistakes. The surprises.
And top it off with the fact that sometimes it really connects with someone. I get the satisfaction
of exciting someone else with the same thing I’m excited about. Very primal.

16. RJP: Do you create your art full time or part time?

SG: In my mind–I work on it around the clock. My physical body can only devote a few hours a
day producing it (alas I must sleep). I do something entirely different to earn points for groceries.

17. RJP: What other interests do you have, besides art?

SG: I’m a collector of obscure 60s garage and psychedelic music and like to read about
experimental psychology since it helps me understand why adults act like they are still in high
school.

Title: Psycho Clown

Artist: Stephen Gibb
Media Used: Oil on wood,
Clown hair
Size: 18 X 24
Date Created: 2008

RJP: I am uncertain as to
the origins or rationales for
Coulrophobia [fear of
clowns]. I can tell you this
though, I am certain this
psycho clown is disturbing
in a variety of ways. From
his maniacal teeth-clenched
grin to the hint of blood
dripping down his chin this
clown could inspire fear
quite easily.

When Stephen applies the added touch of the surreal multiple sets of eyes, this clown
gives old Pennywise [from Stephen King’s It] a run for his money in the creep
department.
page 21
 Title: Held down by the man
Artist: Stephen Gibb
Media Used: Oil on wood
Size: 19 X 22
Date Created: 2008

RJP: The slogans of the sixties

revisited. “Stick it to the man”.
But, who is the man? Is he/she
so unlike us as to be our
antagonistic nemesis?

In fact, within our psyches we

are ‘the man’ ourselves.
Impulses and urges are held in
check by the more rationale
parts of our minds. The ego,
according to Freud, guided by
the superego, restrains the id. In
this topsy turvy offering
Stephen Gibb has played out
the alternative. The id
triumphant! The jumbled
anatomy representative of the
chaotic nature an absence of
impulse control implies.

18. RJP: What advice would you have for a young artist starting out today?

SG: Don’t be afraid to ask for advice.

19. RJP: Do you have any big plans or shows coming up in 2009?

SG: I have huge plans, some are top secret. What I can tell you is I’m working on a series
of paintings based on influential things in my life that I want to pay homage to. A lot of
artists and pop cultural cues will be the focus. It will be a smorgasbord of strange. As for
shows, keep your ear to the ground. I’m sure I will do the Freak Show again (possibly
around November) and whatever else comes my way.

20. RJP: How would you like your art, and by extension yourself, to be remembered?

SG: Was it all a joke? Or was he serious...?

page 22
A – by Tindersen Blacktree Hoopdriver

Short Fiction

THE MAGIC MUSHROOMS PART II

By Jim Gibson

page 23
 Sean was reminded of how tedious the limo business is at times while on a recent
bar run. He’d taken a group of middle-aged businessmen to a strip club and was parked
outside, waiting. A fully clothed, but attractive young lady was pacing back and forth in
front of the club, attempting to lure the young Americans, as they walked the streets
between the bars, to sample her club. At one point during this routine she attempted but
failed to hold back a huge yawn and, spotting it, Sean asked “Tired are ya?” She replied
with, “It looks like your job is as boring as mine,” and then they both smiled.

“Got a quarter?” Kenny asked, suddenly interrupting Sean’s thoughts by opening

the back door of the limo and depositing his bag.

“Sure. Why?” Sean then turned and looked through the open divider.

“Need to use a phone.”

Sean dug a quarter from the change in his pant pocket and Kenny came up to the
driver’s window to retrieve it.

Thanks man!” Kenny looked fresher than before but still seemed frazzled as he
hurried to a payphone outside the cashier’s booth.

He returned minutes later and settled in the back seat so Sean seized the
opportunity to ask about the money situation. “Kenny, you only paid for four hours. I
need some more cash.”

“Okay man!”

“Like, I’m talking some cash before we go any further.”

Kenny opened the front of his sport coat and revealed a money bag at his waist.
Out of it he drew a wad of cash and counted out some bills. “Here’s five hundred.”

Sean reached back, took the money, and then counted it. “That should do it.”

“How long will that give me?” he asked.

“Early morning...” Sean avoided a specific answer on purpose but he'd quickly
calculated that a bar closing at two and a four o’clock arrival back in Windsor would net
a decent tip.

Kenny, true to form, didn’t respond.

“So, is your girl going to meet you?”

“We’re going to the bar but she needs some time to get ready.”
 “Well, why don't we drive there, and then just wait outside.” Sean didn’t want to
start driving all over ‘God’s green acres’; Kenny was too nuts.

“Man, you’ll be impressed with this girl; she’s got huge tits. Man I love her!”

Sean thought, “The word is lust, not love, Kenny. Lust...!” But, of course he didn't
voice it.

He was about to pull away and head up Wellington when Kenny, without
warning, opened the door, got out, and headed into the cashier’s booth. Soon after, he
returned with a package of gum, popped a piece in his mouth and then got back in the
limo and stuffed the package in his bag. “Let’s go!” he announced.

“We’re off!” Sean responded emphatically.

They traveled north on Wellington, past the White Oaks Mall and the Tony
Roma’s ribs place, familiar territory for Sean. Within fifteen minutes they were parked in
front of an old brick home with a small cement stoop.

“This it?” asked Kenny.

“Don’t know. It should be, but I don’t see a number. I wonder if there’s an east
and a west to this street.” Sean checked his pockets for the scrap of paper with the
instructions but couldn’t find it. “Think we might have turned right instead of left; the
numbers of the homes suggest we’re here but I’m not sure. Let’s check, okay?”

Sean was beginning to feel like he was talking to himself because, again, Kenny
didn’t reply. So he ignored it, turned the limo around in the broken-up driveway that led
to a garage at the back of the lot, and headed back across Wellington. When he checked
the houses on the east part of the street, each had a number but none the one that he was
looking for.

“I guess that other house was the one. Let’s go back,” he said to his uninvolved
nut-case-of-a-client sitting idly behind him; he was beginning to feel like a babysitter.

They weren’t back in front of the first house more than a few seconds before a
dark haired girl in her early twenties and a fair-haired boy of the same age emerged from
a side door and walked toward the limo. They were holding hands.

“Well, this is interesting,” thought Sean. “Kenny, is this the girl you’re taking
back to Windsor to live with you? She has a boyfriend.”

“I’ll get her!” he replied emphatically. “Money talks...!”

Sean usually opened the doors for his clients but before he could react, Kenny
opened the door and Dawn poked her head inside and looked around before climbing in
and taking a seat close to Kenny but on the side seat. The boyfriend followed and sat
beside Dawn.

“This is my driver, Sean,” said Kenny.

Sean threw her a wave across the opening of the divider.

“Hi Sean,” said Dawn. “Hey Kenny, this is cool.”

The boyfriend said nothing and Kenny ignored him.

“How much money do you have in there?” asked Dawn as she leaned over and
attempted to open the money bag at Kenny’s waist.

“Hey, there's a lot,” Kenny replied, at the same time fighting her off.

“Well, how much?” This time Dawn flirted with Kenny by moving over and
cuddling up beside him. “Come on, you can tell me,” she asked demurely, again reaching
for the bag.

“Almost twenty thousand...”

“Ooh.” Dawn made eye contact with Kenny, and then moved back beside her
boyfriend.

“Wow!” Sean thought; but he also wondered where Kenny had acquired all that
money; it could only attract trouble. “So, what’s happening?” Sean asked, without raising
his voice, as a general question to the group behind him.

Dawn heard him and asked Kenny, “Got any beer?”

“We can get some. Sean, stop at a beer store,” instructed Kenny.

“Got it,” Sean replied. “Is there anything close, Dawn?”

“On Wellington,” she replied.

“Okay thanks.”

It was a five-minute drive north on Wellington before Sean spotted a beer store
and pulled into the parking lot. No one in the back made a move so he asked, “Want me
to get it?” He was happy to grab a break from the incoherent chatter, everything from
singing to hysterical laughing.

Sean exited the car and wandered to the back expecting the window to be opened.
When it wasn’t, he opened the door.
 “What do you want?” he asked as his eyes scanned the group; he assumed it
would be a group decision.

“Three cases of Blue,” instructed Kenny without consulting anyone; and before
handing Sean two one hundred dollar bills. “Keep the change.”

Sean took the money and immediately headed off for the automatic doors of the
beer store, waited for a biker carrying in empties, then followed him inside. He glanced,
as always, at the variety of brands displayed on wall shelves, everything from standards
like Coors and Canadian to imports like Corona from Mexico and Stella from Belgium.

“Can I help you?” asked an attendant at one of the cash registers.

“Three cases of Blue...”

The attendant repeated the order into a mike and seconds later the three cases
rumbled along the conveyor drums from the back room to the front.

“I’m going to leave one case here for a few seconds, if you don’t mind?” Sean
asked the attendant. Then without waiting for an answer, he piled one case on top of
another and started for the limo; it was a warm night but with a cool breeze so, while the
cases were heavy, he didn’t work up a sweat.

Unsure of where Kenny wanted the beer, Sean gently lowered the cases and
placed them on the tarmac by the back door of the limo, opened it, and asked, “Where do
you want these?”

“One case in here and the rest in the trunk,” Kenny instructed in a more forceful
and confident voice than Sean had heard up to now; and something told him that this was
not a good sign.

Sean carefully picked up one case- he was always mindful of protecting his back-
and handed it to Kenny, who in turn put it on the floor and proceeded to rip it open.
Leaving Kenny to the task, Sean closed the door, went to the front passenger door,
opened it, punched open the glove compartment, and then pushed the yellow button to
pop the trunk. After that, he walked back to the case of beer he’d left by the back door,
placed it in the trunk and gently closed the lid to the point where it closed by itself.

“Over fifty dollars just for buying some beer...? Not bad,” Sean thought. His
attitude was simple; if he was going to do something that caused him to be away from
home, particularly at night, it had better be worth it.

Sean could hear the noise from inside the limo as he walked to the driver’s door
but the darkened glass prevented him from seeing anything other than his own reflection.
However, in this case, probably nothing was happening that could possibly embarrass
anyone. But there had been instances with past clients when it might- the time, for
 instance, when he’d driven six ladies- three couples- to London to hear Melissa
Etheridge; the activities and the conversation in the back that night would most certainly
have embarrassed, if not angered, a lot of people.

“You forgot a case!” announced someone behind

Sean.

He turned toward the new voice and saw the beer-

store attendant standing at the open door of the store
holding a case of beer.

“You forgot a case,” she repeated.

He tapped his temple with my knuckles, the

universal gesture for dumb, and then began to walk
quickly toward her.

The attendant met him halfway, handed over the

case, and then asked, “Anyone famous in there?”

“No. No one famous... Infamous maybe, but not

famous,” he replied, and then thanked her for carrying out
the case, turned, and started back to the limo.

Carrying something causes you to watch more

closely where you’re going and Sean found himself
looking down on the tarmac, a type of surface he’d
generally not focused on. But now he did; he noticed the
different colors of the pebbles within the tar, the numerous
oil stains, a section that looked like arctic polygons, the
occasional pothole, even cigarette butts.

He put the case in the trunk, did a quick scan of his

surroundings to be sure he had the room and the grade to
safely maneuver, got into the limo and started it up.

“All set folks?” he asked his group.

Bookmark - by Tindersen
Blacktree Hoopdriver “Are we going to the bar?” Dawn asked Kenny.

“Of course... We’re gonna rock!”

“To the bar, Sean,” instructed Dawn. “Do you know how to get there?”

“I think so.”
 It was a fifteen-minute drive, as they headed east on Oxford, then north on
Adelaide, before turning into a small strip mall’s parking lot surrounded by apartments
and single-family houses. The lot was only half full; not surprising since it was after six
on a Monday. The mall contained a variety store at the east end, a pharmacy and hair
salon in the middle, and the bar on the west end.

Sean chose a parking space- actually he took up two spaces that faced each other-
then sat while the boyfriend got out and lit up a cigarette, leaving Dawn inside with
Kenny.

Kenny seized the moment and took his best shot. “You’re coming back with me
tonight!” he exclaimed before moving over beside Dawn on the side seat and attempting
to put his arms around her.

“Kenny, I have a boyfriend,” she said, moving away.

“I have money,” Kenny said, again trying to put his arms around her.

To Sean, Kenny’s actions were pathetic and he felt sorry for him; he was getting
lust, love and money all tangled up with each other. Sean knew it; but so, probably, did
Kenny; he just couldn’t help himself.

Mind you, some women do rate money above love. Sean recalled having asked
Kay if she’d ever marry again, and if she did, would it be for love or for money. “Give
me the money, honey!” she’d exclaimed without hesitation.

“Let’s see if the bar is open,” said a cornered Dawn as she attempted to get by
Kenny and out the door.

Sean bounced out of his seat and scurried back to open the door but Dawn beat
him to it.

“Got a cigarette?” she asked her boyfriend as she clambered out of the limo and
went to stand beside him.

“Sure,” he replied as he lit a new cigarette with the one he was smoking, and then
handed it to her.

Kenny followed, but instead of joining Dawn and her friend, he nervously
sauntered toward a small group of young people who were standing in front of the variety
store.

Sean decided to get back in the limo and use the break to call Jenny. He dialed, let
the phone ring seven times, and then hung up as he began to hear the irritating high-
pitched screech of the fax. “Must be taking the dog for walk,” he thought, just as his cell
phone rang. Checking the call display he saw it was Jenny and answered. “Hi. Tried to
get you...”

“Yeah I know. I lost my glasses and couldn’t see to find the phone.”

He believed her because he’d seen this happen before; she'd misplace her glasses
and then couldn’t see well enough to find them; and with the phone often set by the
ironing board, the laundry tubs, or even under towels, the task of finding it was
compounded.

“What’s happening?” Jenny asked- a good question because, in the limo business,
strange things did happen and tonight’s run was promising to make a top-ten list; right
along with the seven drunken wives, en route to a Bon Jovi concert dropping their
underpants on cue as they stood up in the low brush beside a heavily traveled freeway
stateside.

Sean answered her with, “It could be a long night.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Well, I’m sitting in the limo outside a bar in the north of London and I wouldn’t
be surprised if I’m here when it closes.”

“Oh gees! Should you tell Kay?”

“Probably...”

“Well, just take the day off tomorrow if you’re late getting home.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll see. So, how are you?”

“Oh I’m fine.” She then proceeded to tell him who she’d talked to on the phone,
and that, maybe she’d work on playing her keyboard if he wasn’t going to be home.

He, in turn, assured her that he’d be in touch.

“Do you want me to call Kay?” she again asked.

“Yeah, okay, but its cash so she doesn’t need to stay up. But she knows that.”

“Can you get some sleep?”

“I’m going to try. Listen, this is long distance. I’d better hang up.”

“Yeah, okay.”
 Sean hung up, then glanced to see if his group was anywhere in sight. It wasn’t,
so he decided it was time to grab an hour’s rest, and then eat some lunch. If it was a
concert, and the clients were clean and tidy, he often slept in the back, knowing that he
wouldn’t be interrupted for two or three hours. More often than not, however, the back
seats were littered with bottles, food, and clothing so he was forced to sleep in the front,
his head resting precariously on one door arm-rest, feet balancing on the other.
Obviously, sleeping inside a limo was not like being in one’s own bed; but even a couch
was better.

Tonight he was tired enough to endure almost any conditions. Oh, at first, he
listened to his heart beat and heard every voice and foot step, but he also knew the doors
were locked so eventually he was in a deep sleep, only to be awakened by his own
snoring.

A sudden glance outside revealed that the sun was getting low in the sky so he sat
up, then turned the key in the ignition in order to check the limo’s dashboard clock; it was
nine o’clock. Once he pulled himself together, his thoughts turned to finding his group.
Glancing around, he could see that there were more people than before mingling around
the front of the bar but neither Kenny nor Dawn and her boyfriend were immediately
visible.

For now, this absence didn’t trouble him; he felt calm, comfortable and rested;
and hungry. He took the sandwich out of the red Coca Cola bag- he could almost taste
the oven-roasted turkey sandwich before he’d even taken the first bite- unwrapped the
cling wrap and took the first mouth watering bite; it wasn’t a Christmas turkey dinner,
just a sandwich, but the soothing effect of that first bite was just as satisfying, maybe
more so because the surroundings were so quiet.

A few minutes later, he was finishing a half of a sandwich, and calmly popping
big, purple, seedless grapes in his mouth, when he was interrupted by someone
attempting to open the back door. A glance in the side view mirror revealed it was
Kenny.

“Shit!” he quietly muttered, before pushing the button to unlock the doors.

Kenny climbed in, followed by three young people- two guys and a girl- that Sean
hadn’t spotted in the mirror. Seconds later, Kenny left but the others stayed.

Sean had a rule, briefly put, that paying customers could sit and ride in the limo
while non-paying customers were not welcome and actively discouraged. So, he asked,
“What’re ya doin guys?” while glaring at the freeloaders with his ‘this better be good’
look, something he’d learned in his teaching career while confronting smokers in a
stairwell, or challenging talkers during a quiet work session in the classroom.

“We’re partying,” replied the girl, a cute, curly-haired blonde.

 Sean, in turn responded, annunciating every word clearly and slowly for effect.
“Not, here, you’re, not...”

The group didn’t protest, perhaps sensing that the environment wasn’t conducive
to doing whatever they were planning on doing.

“See ya,” said Sean, his matter-of-fact tone of voice re-emphasizing his position.

The girl promptly opened the door and left, followed by the two guys.

Sean watched them saunter toward the bar, half expecting a rendezvous with
Kenny. Instead he saw him emerge from the bar and head east along the mall’s sidewalk,
arm in arm with a new girl before disappearing around the side of the pharmacy.
“Kenny’s busy; but doing what?” he wondered.

Minutes later Kenny reappeared with his arm around the girl’s shoulders and
headed inside the bar. Curious, Sean exited the limo and followed them.

To be continued…

Untitled - by Bob Labute

Untitled – by Lisa Marie Mueller
page 33
 Writer’s Column
Creation in our World – by Larissa Gula
What Good Art Does

Hey gang! I hope no one missed reading this

too much last month. I’m sorry to admit that
January is not my favorite month of the year.
It’s tradition that my mental health and
relationships go to Hades for a brief fiasco and
vacation, as well as my physical status. This
year my back did not go out on me, which was
a previous ailment – but I was sick for almost
the full month. I still do not have a clear-cut
reason for why this happened, so we’ll never
know the reasons.

This was also the start of a new semester for me, which of course means pure chaos all
around in terms of settling in and buying textbooks. Now that things are settling down,
my classes are actually much more interesting on a personal level than last semester’s.
Rather than taking basic classes that are prerequisites, I am able to take three English
classes (on literature, journalism, and creative writing), a film studies, and another
anthropology class in addition to last semester’s. It’s working out quite well for me. I
have found myself back in touch with my inner muse after three months of being unable
to produce much of anything. Having words near me constantly for English classes is
doing me some good.

It’s also exposing me to some magnificent literary art forms. So of course I had to think,
just what divides the art forms people like us create from the things we aspire to mimic
and surpass?

To avoid going into a very deep essay, I think there are three very basic ideas behind “great art”
that come off the top of a person’s head – and they are:

*Great art tugs your heart;

*Great art inspires others; and
*Great art transcends somehow in its simplicity.

This was an idea I had a long time ago – way back in August, when I was still exploring my
college campus. I went inside one of the buildings to escape the heat and was lucky enough to
catch one brave young man rehearsing in our music hall. I was incredibly moved by his voice and
the song, a song about love.

page 34
See? A simple idea – a piano and a love song. This is a pretty basic and repeated thing. Yet this
young man’s voice was able to stir tears in my eyes, and I went back to my room to write out my
feelings as soon as I could form words to describe them.

Of course, there are other components to good art – and anyone who has ever taken a class
focusing on it could probably rattle off the finer points. For our purposes, a three step check list is
a good way to get started.

But why just rattle off a list?

This month is the start of a new idea. Rather than just preach about creating things, I figured I
would share the inspiration I can find. Each month there will be an image posted under my
column. It may be a photograph, it may be a poem, or it will be artwork. At first, I admit I’ll
probably stick to personal photography. They will be good photos and will avoid any possible
copyright issues, as long as no one tries selling the images of course.

I urge everyone each month to look over the image being shared and let some idea come to you.
You don’t feel to make it a final idea, but how better to practice then, well, practice?

(Also – it will give everyone who takes part something to submit for the next month’s issue!)

This month’s image is:

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a253/aniu15228/100_0414.jpg page 35
So, sit down, write a poem, write a story, paint a picture – come up with something new and
original based on this, even if it’s just for practice to ease back into a routine. Stir up emotions in
your words or colors. And through editing and changes, the other two should eventually follow.

I hope to see submissions based on this next month – because if I don’t this idea might not last
long!

Best of luck,
-Larissa

P.S. I have to insert advertising, folks (and I hope you’ll let this in, Randy!)

I started a new blog last month that is public (as opposed to my LiveJournal), and I have high
hopes for its future. As well as reposting my old poetry and my columns for this e-zine (so others
can read them), I’m aiming to repost my newspaper articles. Remember, I write for Arts &
Entertainment – so I’m sure everyone will find something interesting in the realm of theater, CDs,
songwriting and performing, and art galleries!

In addition to this, I have other ideas – such as an analysis of bands in my iTunes (histories and
why I like them), a top 5 song list every week or so (and I do not listen to rap if this is any
comfort in my music choice!), and links to my favorite DeviantArt.com artworks every week.

In other words, over time you have potential to read some cool culture articles, discover some
new bands, and see some new artwork that may inspire you.

So please, at the very least take a look over what’s there so far. Then, if you like it, bookmark or
follow my blog. It would an honor to be writing for more than myself. Share the link, too – I want
to spread the word!

Hope to see you there!

http://trolleygirl13.blogspot.com/

Oscar Wilde – by Roger Davidson

Page 36
Jack Nicholson – by Jon Biermann

page 37
 Poetry
Poems – by Larissa Gula
Mother Nature

Lush and green grass waves in the wind

Alongside the aqua lake –
All of the life on her domain is her kin.

Time touches and shapes her homes

He is her master, but also a friend
Who will never leave her here alone.

Legs race with a rising heartbeat

As her children run along
For her to forever watch and keep.

And when the dead sink into the ground

It is Time and other children
Who makes it so nothing will be found.

The cycle can never end

As long as the Mother lives

But if her children bring the end, Unseen Trees of Time – by Tariq Rafiq
It will be Time who comes for us.

and silently speak of the year gone by

Dreams By Candlelight
Through the splintered door, he walks.
He looks over the flickering kitchen,
breathes in the vanilla candle
and its familiar yearning and hunger.
He takes her hand and brushes their fingers
and wipes the melted wax to ease the throb –
As he always has, in their dreams,
in his letters, with his gliding touch.
He takes the candle from her folded hands
and lets her eyes grasp at his
as they find familiarity
in another world, inhabited by two.
They stand and stare together –
and see the wars within conquered
wishing them down the oily sink.
He dips down to blow out the candle –
She shakes her head, touches his nose.
They need its light
to illuminate their dreams tonight
And tomorrow they will need it still
to find the path they’ll follow.
and maybe this time
They will not need two candles
To light two roads
and maybe their fingers
will not let go, and will remain
Together.
page 38
 Midnight Train

I once picked up a dusty violin with a flimsy, cracking bow. It felt lonely, and screamed in my
hands at the thought of being returned to its case, to the shadowy corner. Instead of putting it
away, I lifted the wood to my shoulder. I softly coaxed a tune from the quivering wood, until I
recognized the whistle being thrown out by the calming instrument.

Nude Series 4 – by Belinda Da Fonseca

It had matched the nightly call of my old machine companions. With their creaking pistons, and
gears, and proud smokestacks, they marked the trail constantly traveled until their message was
lost in the clouds. The old ladies and Big Boys that ruled our land have diminished now.
page 39
Yet my violin, my newfound friend, was mimicking the night I crumpled into the soft leather of
days behind me. I rode along to the next station in the engine’s favorite coach, watching fields
illuminated by lover’s lamps, and marshes filled with fireflies blinking their SOS – come to me.
Now. The places came and went with the rattle of the Midnight Train.

My trip, with no destination in the mind of the leader, carried me on, and on, and on. My only
companion was peace. What a quiet pair we were. We rumpled and rocked along; the motions
began soothing cracked fingers, and massaging beyond my limbs into a weary back; the motions
began nudging, opening constricted capillaries –

Just Another Fence Bottom – Lee Ann Marie Macdonald

Yet as the clogs I had obtained began to dissipate within me, the whistle suddenly screamed her
shrill cry.

It pierced the quartet circle in my attic corner. My eyes snapped open, the emptiness of carved
wood still draped over my shoulder; it began quivering as it realized it had lost its companion.
The shriek of bow-on-string ruined the chemistry. The dream we had created was now echoing,

Echoing…

Echoing…

Leaving me nowhere appreciated.

page 40
 A Useless Disguise

Beautiful blue lakes shimmered, and sunlight played

By peeking its corners out from behind leaves,

Flashing on hooves that clattered on cobblestones

As they traveled towards their locked doors.

Old Iron whistled from the mountains by day

Breaking silence up and down the forests –

And by starlight the lamps were blown out, violently,

Becoming shards of flying wax, as the villages hid.

But this morning, the men share embraces by dawn’s cloak

And lover’s eyes glitter as their blue lake once could

And the children run off with strips of tattered clothing –

The now useless disguise of poor folk apathetic during war

So that the men can trade hoods for a red uniform, darkened
With unforgiving, never forgetting stains

And the wearers can do nothing but hike up Old Iron’s

Mountains, wishing they could hop onto a ride back down.

Untitled – by Tariq Rafiq page 41

 By CS Cartier – Balance of Choice

9/11 and JFK were someone’s idea of

art
Remember that total produced is the
sum of all parts

Examples like these, are littering

history books
This must mean, if you only take a
quick look,

That we are evil thru and thru, head

down to our toes
Why chaos does not run ramped, no
one does know.

Upon further thought, and further

deliberation
Acts of kindness do show up across
the nation.

Volunteers and neighbours are trying

to make a change
It is up to us, not government to clean
lakes and move the mountain range.

Let us not judge man from monsters

in our past
Criminals may come and sadly
innocent blood cast,

Inner Demondz – by Stan Nelson

Does this determine if we are good, or evil; I am not qualified to tell

But hand and hand is our strength, and when together, there is no hell.

page 42
Thoughts on a cold, grey, February
– by R.J. Paré

The stark morning light Bred to accommodate

penetrates, eyes of devotion,
the car windows, blind,
with illusory warmth. to predicament.

Combustion driven hulk, Modern man scoffs

idling heat, denies what beasts we are,
leaves us monoxide when shorn
consequence. of our tinker toys.

The canine in the passenger seat, An urge to smash my cel,

wants more, to bits,
than its tongue and smear clean mud
in the wind. on my receding brow.

The loss of hills and forest, The bards of warmth

the price paid, locked in ice –
when choosing man thoughts on a cold, grey,
as best friend. February.

The Devastation of Depression – by Lee Ann Marie Macdonald. page 43

Tom Selleck – by Jon Biermann

page 44
 Non-Fiction
Futurism in the Funnies – By Roy G. James

Figure 27 – Marvel Team-Up # 45, Marvel Comics Group, 1976, “Future Shock”
Character: Spiderman page 45
Chronology

The study of time, the control of time and the passage of time has always been an element
of literature including comics for “time in ad finitum” [please excuse the pun]. That great
science-fiction writer H. G. Wells expounded on the topic with his book “The Time
Machine;” so, too, has Mike Grell reached levels of profundity on the topic in Figure 28
[and Spiderman in Figure 27]. Even the March Hare of Alice in Wonderland was
concerned that he was “late for a very important date.” The very essence of the future is
in time. Perhaps this is why the comic book writers and artists treat it so sanctimoniously
and frequently.

Figure 28 – 1st special issue # 8, National Periodical Publications, Inc., 1975, “Warlord:
Land of Fear”

Character: Warlord

Editor’s Note: For all those who have enjoyed this nostalgic feature and its ‘retro’
perspective on Futurism - check this space next month for the final installment of
Roy G. James classic essay [originally published 1980]:

Futurism in the Funnies

Page 46
 Self & Stephanie – Lisa Marie Mueller
page 47
 Family Life

The Drunken Dragon Tavern – By Christina Marchetti

Hi there folks, I've got another recipe for you here. The recipe in and of itself is not
documented as historical, but all the flavours are there. The original recipe came from a
Women's Circle Home Cooking book, but I've tweaked it to give it a medieval flavour.

Enjoy. Tastefully yours, Tina.

1 cup of margarine or butter

1 cup of white sugar
1cup of brown sugar
2 eggs
1tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp of orange extract or the grated peel of one
orange
1 1/2 cup flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking soda
2 tsp cinnamon
2 tsp all spice
2 tsp cloves
1 tsp ginger
1 1/2cup of apple chopped into small pieces, OR
1 cup fresh apple and 1/2 cup of dried fruit such
as raisins, or chopped apricots or dates, OR 1 1/2
cup chopped dry fruit
3 cups quick cooking oats.

Medieval Kitchen – by Cindy Renfrow

Cream butter and sugar. Beat in eggs, vanilla and orange. Add dry ingredients and mix
well. Add fruit. Drop by teaspoonful onto a cookie sheet with parchment paper on it.
Bake in a preheated 375 degree oven for approx. 10 minutes until golden. The texture of
the cookie is going to be dependant on what kind of fruit you put into it. If using strictly
dry fruit, you will come out with a crisper, drier cookie. The apples give a moister cookie.

Enjoy.
This again is a recipe that kids love!!! page 48
Great Food on a Tight Budget – by Pauline Paré
Buying groceries in a recession can be
disheartening to say the least. The good healthy
foods that we are used to are becoming more
expensive and more affordable foods may not be
nearly as healthy for you. On my last shopping
visit, I saw celery at $3 and tomatoes at 3.50 a
pound. Getting frustrated at the prices of my
favourite veggies and fruits, I decided to try
something new.

I noticed that rutabaga was only 50 cents a

pound so I grabbed one of these strange oversized
roots and brought it home.

Rutabagas

I Googled rutabagas and found that they are

very popular in Europe. I found that they are great
in stews and are used in a Swiss dish called rotmas.
Rotmas means ‘root mash’ and is made by boiling
cut up rutabaga, carrot and potato then mashing the
3 together just like mashed potatoes. My family
loved it and the dish cost very little.

I now look at the prices of vegetables and if I

find a good deal on some that I haven’t tried, I buy
it and look it up. I found out that I just love kale for
instance and it has more iron than spinach at half
the cost. With a little creativity, I am able to feed
my family dinners packed with healthy veggies for
a lower cost and I enjoy trying new flavours. Also,
look at food that you normally associate with
holidays, such as yams (sweet potatoes). The prices
on these have dropped dramatically and there are
great recipes online. They taste wonderfully sweet
when paired up with carrots and they liven up plain
old potatoes.
Kale

Trying new things can help you save money and eat healthier.
page 49
 Pop-Culture
Comic Book Review – By Brad Bellmore

Soulfire – Variant Cover Art – Aspen Comics

page 50
Soulfire

Thumb partly up.

I picked up the second issue of Aspen Comics’ “Shadow Magic” a new miniseries of the Soulfire,
written by Vince Hernandez and drawn by Sana Takeda. A large story arc is laid out here with
three different tales in this one issue all of which allude to and offer much more to come if you
stick with the next issue.

The issue opens with the hunting adventures of two young girls. As they resurface in the story,
anticipation is created for their involvement in the larger tale. The same is true for the young
dragon that gets trapped and later rescued. Nothing is clear yet how either of these tales fit
together or with the third, but expectation of payoff grows readily. The third tale carries the
weight of this book and provides the greatest tension and drama. In this portion, a princess finds
herself in battle and relying upon he magical powers to survive and win. Although I don’t quite
get all the layers of her character, she is intriguing. Again, not much is resolved in this one issue,
but it whets the appetite for the larger arc continued in the next issue.

For those who are familiar with Aspen, it is not surprising to say that the art in this comic is
astoundingly beautiful. Everything about this book pops. The drawing, the colors, the characters,
the backgrounds – all of it is pretty. Of course, the female characters more so than the rest, living
up to Aspen’s reputation of portraying the most exquisitely gorgeous woman in the medium.
Beyond that, the use of light and shadow and darkness to enhance the mood and tell the story
worked well. Only at one point did I get lost in the flow of the panels, that because one panel (a
close up) was so small that I missed it as part of the detail of the larger splash panel. The young
dragon looks a little too much like Ord from the Dragon Tales cartoon on PBS, but otherwise the
dragons are great.

The art alone makes this comic worth the read. That could be said for anything published by
Aspen. If large story arcs bother you, this may not be the title for you. If more complex tales
fascinate you, that is offered here.

Recently, I connected with Victor Castro, artist on Scionic, a new graphic novel by Arcana,
written by Phillip Daay. This is our conversation about that project and his shot at
something big. More information on the project, check out Victor’s forum on the Arcana
website:

http://www.arcanacomics.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=4896&highlight=victor+castro

RKYV: Tell us a little about Scionic.

VICTOR: Well here is the synopsis for Scionic:

In the year 2074, a long and devastating global war called the Geno-Purge explodes between two
factions, ordinary humans and those who have enhanced themselves with technology. Two new
races of humanity rise from the ashes. Those with genetic manipulations are named the Homo
Geneticus. Those with cybernetic enhancements are known as the Homo Roboticus. Now
decades later, another wave of technology threatens the world balance of power. A secret
government program breeds innocent children to serve as living weapons of mass destruction…
and a lone, disillusioned general named Theophilus is determined to rescue them.
page 51
RKYV: How did you get connected with this project?

VICTOR: I was contacted via email by Sean O’ Reilly, senior editor and CEO of Arcana Studios.
The email was very straight forward; he asked if I could generate 80 plus pages on the back end.
So, the first response I give him is “who the heck are you?” That was brilliant. He explained and I
removed my foot from my mouth and agreed.

RKYV: How did you get connected with Arcana?

VICTOR: My connection came from Platinum Studios. As you may know I was one of the top 10
finalists in the 2008 Comic Book Challenge so after the contest was over I had a chance to meet
some really great professionals and they moved my name around the independent networks.
Then I got the email from Sean.
page 52
RKYV: Are you still working on the project from the Comic Book Challenge?

VICTOR: Not presently. The Warrior chronicles is on hold while I work on Scionic. I plan to get
back to it when I have time, but that will depend on other future projects.

RKYV: What is it like interpreting someone else’s story visually? Is it hard? Do you find
opportunities to express yourself while doing this? Or is it all a matter of visual
transcription?

VICTOR: Philip Daay is a professional screenwriter, he has decided to adapt the original film
script to a manageable graphic novel and it is still 92 pages long. Visualizing Phil’s pages is not
as hard as you might think because of his abilities. He gives me most of the descriptions I need to
make a solid panel. I rarely have questions about the page. I try to stick to the letter when
penciling the pages so it is more of a matter of visual transcription. The project is almost like
creating a storyboard, a series of screenshots.

RKYV: Did you have any creative input

with Scionic? Developing the look of the
characters?

VICTOR: Believe it or not I don’t tend to

make any suggestions with Scionic unless
Phil and I hit a speed bump in the
rendering. Sometimes it is difficult to get a
panel perspective to work so I make some
suggestions but so far it has all worked out.
As far as the characters I have stayed
within the descriptions that are in the script.
I had the opportunity to visualize a good
amount of the weapons and vehicles.

RKYV: How do you interact with

Phillip? You’re not in the same place are
you?

VICTOR: Email mostly. He’s in Texas and

I’m in New York. Sometimes we have
phone calls to clear up details of what he
really wants in a panel. If he adjusts the
script, he sends that to me.

RKYV: Have you worked on a project of

this size before?

VICTOR: No, this is a definite test for any

artist.
Scionic Variant Cover – by Victor Castro
page 53
RKYV: Are there any other projects that you will collaborate on?

VICTOR: Oh yes, I have spent the last couple of months working with independent companies
with their initial development of books and ideas. This tends to be the most rewarding part of
being a concept development artist and penciller. I can help the company or individual take the
next step towards making the art, project, characters and all that become a reality. Most of this
work is free.

So far, I have assisted in projects like “When Heroes Were” from Speakeasy Primates, I am in
talks with the VP of marketing for Arcana Studios for another book; the author of Rhino, Siike
Donnelly wants me to assist him in his graphic novel called “Heaven’s Echo” and so much more.

RKYV: Was the NYCC your first as an artist? You’re first representing Arcana?

VICTOR: Yes, NYCC was my first as a professional creator and my first with Arcana, hopefully
not my last.

RKYV: How does your creative process work? How do you work?

VICTOR: Well, it all begins with the script. I read it verbatim and start to give myself a visual
and go directly to blue pencil. While I am reading the page I determine what is going to be the
focus panel or where most of the action or dialog is going to be. So, the flow starts from left to
right paying close attention to the readability of the panels and I start laying out the blue pencil.
After I have a solid thumbnail layout and I am happy with it I move to a 4H pencils for sketch
lines. At this point most of the more difficult work happens. This is when the characters detail,
landscape, environment and action get penciled in. This takes the most amount of time with
careful consideration to the panel and the page. After I am satisfied with the sketch lines I move
to a 3H pencil to darken the pencils and move more towards the final pencils. This usually creates
a nice clean gray pencil page that scans well at a high dpi. Depending on the difficulty of the
panel layouts and perspective it takes about 6-7 hours to get to a final penciled page.

RKYV: When will Scionic be released?

VICTOR: Well, that really depends on me. Sean has established a very comfortable base for his
creators. He specified a distinct interest in developing quality work instead of a rushed project.
Don’t get me wrong, this can’t take 30 years but he really hasn’t made a deadline for this book. I
am working with Philip Daay (the writer) to try to complete the pencils by December 2009.

RKYV: What is the best part about working with a writer?

VICTOR: I guess the best part is knowing that I have a specific focus. I can reference the script as
many times as I need to help me get the panel or page out there. The writer has given me the
structure all I have to do is make it happen.

RKYV: What works best for you in terms of script to draw from? Do you like getting a
panel by panel story? Or do you prefer to create from a prose story?

VICTOR: I have only experienced the panel by panel script. The prose story would seem to give
me a bigger stake into the books development. I would like to experience both.

page 54
When Heroes Were poster [Flyboy] – by Victor Castro a Speakeasy Primates production.
Raised on Saturday Morning Cartoons – by Pauline Paré
Currently, my Rogers on Demand is airing
the entire first season of the AMC series
“Breaking Bad”. I already have enough shows
that I view regularly but I have been laid up with
an awful cold, so I decided to give it a try. I
have mentioned before how I love the shows
made by specialty channels because they take
chances and are usually raw and gritty.
“Breaking Bad” is no exception. I was hooked
right when the main concept was revealed, a
middle-aged, over qualified high school
chemistry teacher with a load of debts, finds out
that he is dying of cancer and decides to ensure
his family’s well being by using his chemistry
skills to cook crystal meth.

Like Dexter, the lines between good and evil

are blurred and the show leaves you wondering
who to root for. The main character, Walter
White (Brian Cranston from Malcolm in the
Middle), is likeable and maybe slightly twisted
all at the same time. You feel sorry for him but
shocked at the extremes he will go to. It is
impossible to completely sympathize with his
character; after all, he is doing some really
bizarre things. There are, however, times when
you can understand this man completely; his
stubborn pride and the strange satisfaction he
gets from finally having full control over one
area of his life. The show is filled with
interesting support characters and amazing
storytelling. The first season is very short, only
7 episodes, but the show never slows down. I
only have the season finale left to watch and I
am very excited to see it. The second season is
starting soon on AMC so if you can catch the
first season`, I highly recommend it.