A COLLECTION OF WRITINGS - Metonymy Media · a story for a literary magazine; we love what we do, and we’re good at it. ... Ready to take the field, a drummer adjusts his jacket

V O L U M E N o 3S u m m e r , 2 0 1 7

A C O L L E C T I O N O F W R I T I N G S

metonymymedia .com

When we say we’re creat ive writers, we mean it. It doesn’t

matter i f we’re work ing on a blog post for a cl ient or

a story for a l iterary magazine; we love what we do,

and we’re good at it . We hope this survey of both our

professiona l and creat ive work inspires you to

think dif ferent ly about the story you want to tel l.

And, of course, we hope you enjoy.

- The writers of Metonymy Media

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1Are You a Jim Kirk or a Jean-Luc Pi card ?

Blog Pos t by : A mber Peck ha m Pg. 4

2 How to Budget for the High Cost s of Living in Ret ir ement

Blog Pos t by : E ly s i a Smit h Pg. 6

3 Made in Indiana: A Hoosier Heritage of Musical Manufacturing

Ma g a z ine A r t ic le by : Rya n Brock Pg. 9

4 Three Cybersecurity Risks Every

Small Business Owner Needs to Know About Ar t i c l e b y : Nat t y Mor r i son

Pg. 13

5 Connecticut Liquor Store Saves Enough Annually to

Buy Everyone in Their Hometown a Beer Ca se St udy by : A mber Peck ha m

Pg. 15

6 Artist Profile: Lobyn Hamilton

By : E ly s i a Smit h Pg. 19

7 Record s II (Deconst ruct ion /Deconst ruct)

Poe t r y by : Nat t y Mor r i son Pg. 22

8 Ten Tacos

Creat ive Non f ic t ion by : Rya n Brock Pg. 2 4

9 Ornament

Poe t r y by : E ly s i a Smit h Pg. 3 6

10 Missed Connect ion: Indianapol i s

Creat ive Non f ic t ion by : A mber Peck ha m Pg. 38

11 Crabcake face s (IT’ S THE L AST LINE/LIK E A BA NDIT)

Poe t r y by : Nat t y Mor r i son Pg. 4 0

12 Ijuin Dai and the Queen Bee

Fic t ion by : A mber Peck ha m Pg. 4 2

13 A Study in Sand

Fic t ion by : Rya n Brock Pg. 50

Prof e s s i o n a l Wo r k

First, find samples of pieces we’ve written for our clients. For the purposes of this collection, we present these pieces out of their natural

context, simply, so you may focus on the words themselves.

Cre at i ve Wo r k

Next, enjoy a collection of creative work from each member of our team. You may not ever wish to hire us to write you a short story or a poem, but you’ll find in these works our craft and our passion for storytelling that drives everything we produce.

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1 A re Yo u a J i m K i r k , o r a J e a n - L u c P i c a rd ?

A m b e r P e c k h a m

The comparison between Sta r Trek capta ins James T. K irk and John-Luc Pica rd i s one which both enrages and del ights d ie-hard fans. Both men sit in the commander’s cha ir of the Sta rship Enterprise during d i f ferent telev ision ser ies and f i lms, but their leadership st yles cou ld not be more d i f ferent. Despite their va st ly d i f ferent management st rategies , both a re renowned leaders in the Sta r Trek Universe, and for good rea sons.

Capta in K irk

Capta in K irk i s a man of act ion. He shoots f i rst and a sk s quest ions later. I f you’re the k ind of leader who act s on inst inct and makes decisions on the spot, you may be more of a K irk t ype. Another outstanding leadership qua l it y K irk exhibit s i s surrounding himsel f with a d iverse set of advisors who do not share his worldview and cha l lenge his decision mak ing. Spock and Dr. McCoy both quest ion K irk, and he’s open enough to their perspect ives to take their opinions under considerat ion. His team are his f r iends, and K irk ’s ego i sn’t so f ragi le that he perceives d i f fer ing opinions a s insubordinat ion. K irk i s a l so legendary for his wi l l ingness to leave the bridge of the Enter-prise and enter the f ray. Managers and leaders in a l l industr ies need to make sure they understand and appreciate the da i ly st ruggles and cha l lenges of their teams. Otherwise, they might not t rust you to make hard decisions when the t ime comes. K irk ’s r i sk s were of ten haphazard and somet imes made his team uneasy, but thanks to his d iverse experience, he t rusted their ta lents (and his own) to ca rr y them through the fea r.

Capta in Picard

Capta in Pica rd i s a master d iplomat and communicator. I f you’re the k ind of leader who wants to ta lk things through and share perspect ives, you may be more of a Pica rd t ype. One of the qua l it ie s which ser ved Pica rd best during his t ime a s capta in was his humil it y. Pica rd was never a f ra id to a sk for help when he needed it , and was a lways wi l l ing to submit himsel f to the teachings of other cu ltures. Pica rd a l so highly va lued mak ing an ethica l decision, even i f it meant being f rustrated in his own desires. He was never wi l l ing to bend the ru les to make a situat ion ea sier for himsel f. Pica rd a l so consistent ly cha l lenged his team members, throwing them into missions outside their comfort zones so that they were forced to adapt and grow in order to sur v ive. W hi le stakes in an of f ice a ren’t of ten l i fe or death, it ’s important to a lways of fer team members ta sk s that a l low them to grow. Pica rd took r i sk s that were ca lcu lated, and whi le his team didn’t a lways agree, they knew that Pica rd ’s desire to do good in the world was at the center of a l l h is ca lcu-lat ions.

Most of us probably have qua l it ie s of both of these f ine capta ins, and could a l so emulate them more in other a rea s. A re you a K irk or Pica rd? W hat qua l it ie s of each would you l ike to t r y to improve on in your l i fe? Let us know in the comments sect ion below, or on LinkedIn!

Blog post or ig ina l ly writ ten for A lpha Kappa Psi Fraternit y © 2017

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2 H ow to B u d ge t f o r t h e H i gh C o st s o f L i v i n g i n Re t i re m e nt

E l y s i a S m i t h

The landscape of ret i rement has changed substant ia l ly since the days of company pensions, company provided hea lth insurance, and secure Socia l Securit y benef it s . Many seniors a re facing high cost s of l iv ing in ret i rement and crunching the numbers before ret i r ing i s one of the best ways to avoid f inancia l burdens later in l i fe. Three things to consider a s you budget for your ret i rement a re f i rst , delay ing and withholding receipt of benef it s , budget ing ef fect ively, and the perk s of work ing par t t ime a f ter ret i rement.

Delaying and Withholding

73% of senior Americans c la im Socia l Securit y benef it s before the fu l l ret i rement age of 65. However, just because you cla im them doesn’t mean you have to take the payout. Suppose you cla im ret irement benef it s this yea r, at age 62, and your payment i s $750 per month. Then, you get a par t-t ime job to meet your expenses, and choose to have 12 months of Socia l Securit y benef it s withheld. At fu l l ret i rement age, you’d receive $800 a month because of the accrued delayed benef it s . According to the Government Accountabi l it y Of f ice, “the median income for those who delay was 45 percent higher a f ter c la iming benef it s than for those who cla imed ea rly, and 33 percent higher at age 72.” The longer you can work before reaching the age of seventy, the more these benef it s add up. For those who intend to cont inue work ing fu l l or par t t ime, knowing this d ist inct ion can make a huge d i f ference dea l ing with monthly f inances.

Budget ing Ef fect ively

W hen budget ing for ret i rement, most senior Americans ca lcu late their f inances ba sed on gross income rather than a f ter-ta x f igures. They make the mistake of a ssuming that SSI benef it s wi l l not be ta xed when in fact they a re. Especia l ly for those st i l l work ing, i f you make income during the year, even f rom invest-ments, up to 85 percent of your SSI benef it s cou ld be ta xable.

Not to ment ion, it’s important to factor in hea lthcare cost s . Because Medicare doesn’t k ick in unt i l age 65, those that c la im SSI benef it s ea rly might have a few years where hea lth ca re cost s become exorbitant. One method of pay ing these fees i s t r y ing to f ind a par t-t ime job that of fers hea lth ca re coverage--a lthough these k inds of jobs a re pret t y ra re. Having extra hea lth ca re coverage even a f ter the age of 65 i s a great idea because there a re many gaps in Medicare coverage. Factoring in those cost s before mak ing a decision about managing your SSI benef it s i s v ita l .

The Perks of Par t-Time Work for Seniors

There a re more than just moneta r y perk s for seniors st i l l work ing a f ter ret i rement. Of course, it ’s nice to know your medica l cost s a re covered and you’re f inancia l ly f it enough to splurge here and there on grandk ids and good food. But, it ’s

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3 M a d e i n I n d i a n a : A H o o s i e r H e r i t a ge

o f M u s i c a l M a n u fa c tu r i n g

R y a n B r o c k

a lso psychologica l ly benef icia l . Quit t ing work cold turkey i s d i f f icu lt for anyone, especia l ly in a societ y l ike America where your work i s not just your l ivel ihood, it’s your l i fe.

A 2009 study led by Mo Wang, PhD, of the Universit y of Florida, for The Journa l of Occupat iona l Hea lth Psycholog y found that people who pursued post-ret i rement bridge employ-ment in their prev ious f ie lds repor ted bet ter menta l and physica l hea lth than those who ret i red fu l ly. A lso, a 2008 study on the changing work force by the Famil ie s and Work Inst itute, d iscov-ered “that employed ret i rees repor t levels of hea lth, wel l-being and l i fe sat i sfact ion on par with those who have not yet ret i red — despite age d i f ferences.”

A lso, a study referenced by USA Today conducted by Carole Dufoui l, a scient ist at INSER M, the French government’s hea lth resea rch agency, says, “For each addit iona l yea r of work, the r i sk of get t ing dement ia i s reduced by 3.2%.”

Another benef it of cont inuing to work a f ter ret i r ing f rom a ca reer i s the opportunit y to keep pay ing down debt. W hen you’ve got high cost s of l iv ing in ret i rement coupled with debt, there a re other opt ions to consider. Did you know you can sel l a l l or a por t ion of your l i fe insurance pol icy for an amount greater than the ca sh surrender va lue? Li fe set t lements (a l so known a s v iat ica l set t lements) can a lso be a l i fe saver. Our website ha s answers for you, to these quest ions and others, l ike, “W hat i s a v iat ica l set t lement?” Visit Li fe Set t lement Advisors and lea rn more.

Orig ina l ly writ ten for L i fe Set t lement Advisors , LLC © 2017

In an empty auditorium, a young flautist warms up to get the feel of the keys. Ready to take the field, a drummer adjusts his jacket and pulls his hat tight. Backstage in the dressing room, a show singer goes over the routine in her head one last time as she inspects her dress in the mirror. These scenes happen every single day in classrooms, stadiums, and performance halls around the world, but one important thing ties them all together: that flute, that uniform, and that dress were all proudly made in Indiana.

Today, the Hoosier State is home to a number of companies that work in the production and distribution of musical equipment vital to teachers, students, and performers around the world. From the instruments themselves to apparel, sheet music, and everything in between, Hoosier businesses have been helping to supply band gear for well over a century. Join us on a quick tour of a few of these brands carrying the banner of musical manufac-turing in Indiana.

Elkhart: The Band Instrument Manufacturing Capital of the WorldConn-Selmer is a modern link to the rich history of Elkhart, Indiana, which has been called “The Band Instrument Manufac-turing Capital of the World” for its unusually high concentration of musical instrument companies. Today, Conn-Selmer stands alongside just a few other brands stil l producing instruments

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in Elkhart near the St. Joseph River, including Gemeinhardt Musical Instruments. What today is one company made up of many different brands was once a whole slew of instrument manufacturing companies, many based in Elkhart as early as the 1870’s.

C. G. Conn, who gave Conn-Selmer half of its name, established Elkhart as a musical hotbed in 1875 when he patented a rubber mouthpiece for his cornet. From that one simple (but sensation-al) invention, Conn built a behemoth operation, and by 1905 he owned the largest musical instrument manufacturing company in the world, with a full l ine of brass, woodwind, percussion, and string instruments. Along the way, he even found time to partner with John Phillips Sousa to devise and build the very first Sousa-phone. In time, local experts at the Conn factory would go on to found their own businesses, until Elkhart was home to specialists making a wide variety of different instruments.

Today Conn-Selmer has brought many of those brands together under the same roof, and has brought many of those brands back to Indiana, including: Vincent Bach trumpets, King trombones, Armstrong flutes, Musser percussion, and LeBlanc, which actually got its start in 1750, once made instruments for the court of France’s King Louis XIV, and is Conn-Selmer’s oldest brand. Other brands stil l are managed in Indiana and manufac-tured elsewhere, such as Ludwig percussion.

Perry Richards, Director of Manufacturing at Conn-Selmer, took us on a tour of their South Plant manufacturing facility. There, we saw firsthand how the company combines over 100 years of experience with the latest tools to consistently produce quality instruments used by students and professionals the world over.

How It’s Made: Bringing an Instrument Key to LifeThe Foundry at Conn-Selmer’s South Plant combines old-world craftsmanship with modern techniques to produce keys and other custom details for many of Conn-Selmer’s instrument brands. Here’s how it’s done:• Step 1: A 3D-printed model is cut on a wax mill.• Step 2: The wax part is cast into a metal master part.• Step 3: The metal master is used to make a soft press for making pink plastic parts.• Step 4: The pink plastic parts are placed on a tree.• Step 5: The trees are placed inside plaster molds, which are cured overnight in an oven.• Step 6: Metal pieces are heated to over 1,000 degrees Fahren-heit and the liquid metal is poured into the plaster investment.• Step 7: Cold water simultaneously cools the red-hot metal and causes the plaster to crack, freeing the metal tree inside.• Step 8: The final parts are cut, finished, and prepared for assembly.

Suiting Up in CynthianaJust north of Evansville and a stone’s throw from Kentucky, Cynthiana is a small Indiana town with deep roots in band culture not only in Indiana, but across the country and around the world. There, the band outfitters at Band Shoppe have built a reputation and a solid business on years of expertise in providing marching bands with anything they need to get ready for the field.

Band Shoppe got its start in the 1970s as Pearison Music Services, a repair shop serving schools in the local area. As those schools came to rely on founder Chuck Pearison for his sharp eye in keeping their instruments in working order, he found more and more schools requesting other must-haves from him, including uniforms, flags, and poles. In 1979, Pearson became a dealer for Style Plus, and by 1985, the music repair shop had closed and PMS became Band Shoppe, focused solely on providing apparel, shoes, color guard flags, and other wearables to help bands put their pride on display. A decade later, the


4 T h re e Cy b e r s e cu r i t y Ri s k s Eve r y S m a l l B u s i n e s s

O wn e r N e e d s to K n ow A b o u t

N a t t y M o r r i s o n

business expanded its operation to a 55,000-square foot facility complete with a sizeable sewing department and a distribution center that today ships band uniforms and shoes as far away as the United Kingdom.

We spoke with Christopher Payne, Marketing Manager for Band Shoppe, who told us that despite the company’s global reach, their original mission remains the same. “We started by focusing on local schools, and that meant serving small and mid-sized schools who sometimes had a smaller budget,” said Payne. “So we’ve always focused on getting to know our clients, getting to know their shows, and making sure we provide a real service.” This passion for the industry has also led to Band Shoppe’s involvement in a number of events and organizations, including the Drum Corps International and the Boston Crusaders, for whom Band Shoppe provides all band and corps uniforms. Closer to home, Band Shoppe is also a presenting sponsor of Drums on the Ohio, a drum corps show in Evansville.

Also in IndianaIndiana is home to dozens of manufacturers and businesses in the music industry, including: • Gemeinhardt Musical Instruments: Originally specializing in flutes, Gemeinhardt in Elkhart also offers piccolos, clarinets, saxophones, headjoints, and a variety of woodwind accessories.• Rivars: This Indianapolis-based firm produces top-of-the-line apparel for show choirs and concerts, including dresses, tuxedos, and labeled costumes.

Indiana’s deep roots in the musical industry connect our state to musicians the world over, and represent a rich history of crafts-manship, showmanship, and music education. As long as people are making music, this industry is sure to play a significant role in the Hoosier economy for many years to come.

As an IT pro working inside a small business, it’s safe to say your proverbial plate is fi l led to the brim. Infrastructure, data storage, web presence—your day is a blur of activities to make sure the tech end of the business is in tip-top shape. So, as you reach for your umpteenth cup of coffee of the afternoon, the last thing you want to find in your overstuffed inbox is a frantic email from a team member tell ing you that the business has been made the victim of a cyberattack.

Breaches against huge companies l ike Sony or Target may dominate headlines or provide hackers with bigger payoffs, but the cold hard stats show that small businesses are not only at risk, but may be perceived as sitting ducks by cybercriminals at large. Recent small business studies show that while 87% of owners polled don’t worry about a breach, 43% of all cyberat-tacks are against small businesses. And if that doesn’t chill you to the bone, researchers found that nearly 60% of those businesses recovering from a hack closed within six months of the attack. Thankfully, there are plenty of tips and tricks to keep you from becoming another small business statistic in the fight against cybercrime. Phishing The most prevalent form of data breaching isn’t a complicated virus or intrusive bit of code – it’s a form of simple, person-to-person manipulation known as social engineering, or phishing. Orig ina l ly writ ten for INfOR M Magaz ine,

Ind iana Musica l Educators A ssociat ion © 2017


The goal in these cases is to convince an unsuspecting individual to reveal personal information; all acting under the guise of being a trusted personal contact. It often begins with a strange email, perhaps from one of your third-party vendors or even from someone inside the company. It may ask for passwords or banking information, anything personal or proprietary. Hackers use this information to access your accounts and wreak havoc on your fi les and data; they can even begin the terrifying process of identity theft.

It’s easier to prevent phishing than to recover from a success-ful breach. Instruct your employees to routinely change their passwords, and establish a minimum requirement for password length and complexity. Instead of clicking on links in emails, go directly to the source of the request by typing in the URL. And while some scams are easy to spot and will be caught by spam filters, many are subtle to avoid detection. This handy visual guide helps determine the validity of an email. Ransomware

With a name as frightening as its devastating effects, ransom-ware has become an epidemic among small businesses. Often starting as a phishing attempt, ransomware begins by infecting a device with malicious malware that encrypts and locks you out of customer data and information. Once the device is infected, the user is prompted to pay a fee to recover the fi les. The cost – or ransom –runs from several hundred to several thousand dollars depending on the perceived resources of your business. Because they lack security resources and are desperate to recover lost data, small businesses are a primary target of such attacks. Companies can avoid ransomware with simple steps, such as making and storing regular backups of data offline, util izing antivirus software, and increasing employees’ awareness of these scams.

Mobile Malware

Small businesses often rely on mobile devices l ike tablets and phones to save money and increase efficiency. However, these handy tools can present the same risks found on your basic laptop computer. Norton Security recently discovered nearly 17% of Android apps available in the Play Store were malware in disguise. The Kaspersky Lab found over 8.5 million malicious installation packages among mobile downloads, as well as growth in both mobile Trojans and – you guessed it – mobile based

ransomware. Thankfully, there are simple steps to avoid these intrusions. Use an official app store that regularly checks for software hiding malicious behavior. Don’t jailbreak; resist the temptation to open your device to additional markets, as it voids your warranty and disables the preinstalled security on current phone and tablet models. And always, always, always update. Malicious programs exploit weaknesses in dated versions of software, so regularly updating your devices’ software patches holes, fixes bugs, and ensures your company’s safety. It may seem tedious, restarting your device yet again to install that new software patch, but those few minutes could be the difference between safe and compromised.

With all the various ways a hacker could infiltrate your system, protecting it all may seem like a daunting task, perhaps even overwhelming. But, remember: it’s easier to prevent an attack than to recover from one. By staying aware of hacking trends, alert for any fishy communications, and accountable of keeping your system’s virus protections up-to-date, you can keep your focus centered squarely on helping to grow your small business.


5 C o n n e c t i cu t L i q u o r S to re S ave s E n o u gh A n n u a l l y to

B u y Eve r yo n e i n T h e i r H o m e town a B e e r


Executive Summary:

A family-owned chain of l iquor stores sought to upgrade their public image and reduce energy costs through new lighting. After an implementation at one store, Artis won the opportunity to support a second location with a more comprehensive energy solution involving their refrigeration system. We helped the client take full advantage of Eversource utility incentives, reduce their monthly energy spending, and improve their customers’ experience, all at the same time.

--$29,000 in projected annual electrical savings between both locations (that’s 39,545 cans of Budweiser, enough to give at least one to every person in South Windsor, CT).

-- Over $36,000 in Eversource incentives between both projects (not including bonus incentives).

--110,560 kWH per year saved at flagship location alone (that’s enough to account for ten average US households).

The Client:

A family-owned chain of l iquor stores in the Hartford area. The client owns all the buildings where stores are housed. They were already knowledgeable about lighting and other ways to achieve energy savings, but hadn’t made a concerted effort to tackle the problem all at once.

Challenges:

This client is a do-it-yourself type, one who was in the habit of working through relationships with vendors or independent contractors to get issues fixed around their stores. However, this led to inconsistent repairs and mismatched equipment between the business’ multiple locations. Some stores had newer lighting or hardware than others. At certain locations, customers had even begun to complain that the lighting made reading bottle labels a challenge. Those concerns, coupled with rising maintenance and energy costs, led this client to contact us. Solutions:

At the first store, one of our main goals was to help the client achieve the ideal color temperature for the lighting—nothing too bright, nothing too dim, perfect for browsing for a bottle of high end wine. We initially ended up installing six different light fixtures in the store, so the client could choose between them to find the best fit.

After our success at the first location, we were invited to the client’s f lagship store to perform an assessment. There, we not only recommended upgrading the lighting, but also moderniz-ing the cooling fans and other controls related to moisture and temperature sensitivity in their storage area. By adding these additional upgrades to the client’s service package, we were actually able to save them money, since this solution qualified


them for more incentives from Eversource. Typically, if only one project (like lighting) is undertaken, the utility incentive will be between 20-30%. The addition of an extra area of service meant that this client qualified for 50% of the project at their flagship store to be funded through utility incentives. Of course, they took full advantage of this opportunity, and the project was recently completed to their full satisfaction.

Outcomes:

At the first store, where only lighting upgrades were installed, the client now spends 17% less on their electricity, a savings of $658 per month. An average savings of $1,832 per month is projected at the second location. The client received 0% financing for the portion of the project expense which was not covered by Eversource incentives.

Further, both shoppers and employees are more comfortable in the new light. At the flagship store where we provided the cooling solutions, inventory will be maintained in a more controlled temperature environment, leading to less potential waste and greater shelf l ife.

Lobyn Hamilton’s love of music is clearly visible in the artistic work he creates. Using broken vinyl, he makes representations of black culture, specifically its musical heritage. Originally, his renewal process was focused more on his passion for DJing and he intended to travel to record stores across the globe for new vinyl in hopes of reigniting his desire to perform as both a DJ and a visual artist. As he began exploring this process, however, he realized that attempts to monetize his art drained his joy. He explains, “There is a shifting when you begin to monetize your love or passion. There are many trade offs. There are side effects from bringing that expression to the market. Fleeting moments and precious times turn into tunnel vision and neglect of the soulful meaning of the act.”

Hamilton has been collecting records for use in art and music for over seven years, so as he approached the process of renewal he realized it was time to switch things up. He says, “As the traveling sunk in, I saw I had used DJing and artwork to close myself off from the world on purpose and had been retreating for many years in my art, in order not to deal with some very important and harsh realities.” His battle with anxiety emerged as the real focus of his renewal, and he felt the need to unplug and reflect on his motives and heart.

The artistic renewal moved forward for Hamilton in the form of a road trip from Indianapolis to Los Angeles. He brought along a good friend, and the two of them took their time traveling historic highways like Route 66. Along the way, they sought out unique restaurants and shops, places where they could find inspi-ration. Seeing the Grand Canyon and spending the night in Las Vegas were major highlights of the trip. Orig ina l ly writ ten for A r t i s Solut ions © 2016

6 A r t i s t Prof i l e : L o by n H a m i l to n



This is where things broke open for Hamilton. He again felt the desire for connectivity, to interact with people and create for them. He finished his renewal up with a string of adven-tures in the Czech Republic, Germany, Munich, Ravensburg, Marroca, Milan, Ibiza, London, Chicago, Jamaica, Cuba and Cape Town. These experiences culminated in his very first solo show (WHERE), entitled, “The Breaks.” He says before his show he, “never took the time to see what was gained and what was lost. I had changed so much.” After, however, he branched out. Hamilton began taking a DJing class at Deckacadmics with DJ MetroGnome along with a drawing class.

Hamilton’s experiences in these classes were certainly the most impacting results of his renewal fellowship, but the traveling got him there. As he advances in his career as both a DJ and visual artist, he wants to change his approach. For Hamilton, a driving goal behind his decision process has the effect of damaging his creative output. Instead, he wants intuition and inspiration to guide him, and thanks to the renewal process he was able to articulate these valuable expressions of his artistic self. As an already successful full time artist, with work appearing in the Indiana State Museum and on set of the show Empire, Hamilton had felt lackluster in direction prior to beginning his renewal. Ultimately, the fellowship fil led him with the confidence to take new initiatives. He’s found a new vigor in his identity as an Indianapolis artist. He says, “The ability to have gone for so long and not considered myself was an eye opener and I will keep that forever. The desire to look outside of self and city stopped and I’ve really found a path back to what I love.”

“I had not allowed myself the dignity to see how far I had come and what I did accomplish, which was leading to the burnout. The renewal allowed me to justify investing in myself and that is a very contagious thing--self love, that is.”

Origina l ly written for the Arts Council of Indianapolis © 2017


7 Re c o rd s I I (D e c o n st r u c t i o n /D e c o n st r u c t )


but a lways with the pieces. Pi le s of informat ion f rom conversat ions dat ing backto the spring of ‘91.

Pieces; l ike they’re a thought that stands a lone.Pieces;it suggest s that ever y thing wi l l be pieced back together.Pieces;this i s how I remember it now.

My records a re Highl ights and underl ines and low l ights. Somet imes no l ights. Every thing in shor thand, the shor test handshorter than a f lea circus stands above the ground.

I have kept a professiona l record of ever y conversat ionand I have been the opposite of professiona l. An Ant i-professiona l.The orig ina l Ant i-thought. Ant i-Ant i-Anxiet y.Ant i-Matter Inf lamatory.The Ant i-Gravit y Example. Unable to keep the t rack f rom bending.

And always dera i led by these unneeded poet ic s , dressing up the few and fa r spaces a s ghost s between worlds, or something mundane a s impossibly important. I’m losing track of time, shoving metaphors in envelopes I ’m some jerkof f who thinks a r t i s ever y where


8 Te n Ta c o s

R y a n B r o c k

Wednesday, June 13, 2012, 6:46 pm. Highland, Indiana.

THE FIRST arr ived on a white plate. It was not authent ic . The steak was sof t and unsea soned and wrapped in a gent ly f r ied tor t i l la . The sur face of the vessel was def ined by a number of spl it bubbles and a seduct ive sheen that spoke to my bra in in fami l ia r terms and made promises that it ’s okay, this i s good, this i s grea sy and necessa r y for sur v iva l.

“Lobster night,” I sa id, look ing at a poster on the wa l l of the supper c lub. It was bright and blue and out of place on top of the dark wood panel ing and aging photos of d iners. “Should ’ve come for that.” The wa it ress came up f rom behind me, hot plates in hand. “Come back next week ! We do it ever y couple of months. We get l ive lobsters r ight f rom Maine. Only for t y dol la rs to reser ve yours now.” My mother’s eyes got big and she cooed. “Now that would be a t reat .” “Hot plates ,” the wa it ress sa id. She placed the plates down in f ront of each of us. Mom, Dad, and Kristen had two

tacos on their plates. I had three. A f ter set t ing a sma l l d ish of green sauce in the center of the table, she grabbed a few cups and turned to get ref i l l s . “Should we pray?” a sked Mom, a shade of ser iousness in her voice. I looked r ight to Dad. “I a l ready d id,” Dad sa id. “Dig in.” Mom nodded in thanks and got a l l smi ley look ing at her mea l, which d id not appear to be incorrect . She has a habit of being ser ved mea ls other than what she ordered at restaurants. Ca l l it bad luck or a conspiracy, but the woman hasn’t pa id for a mea l at Cracker Barrel since the ea rly ‘90s. “Good tacos,” Kristen sa id. She hadn’t been out for Taco Wednesday before. “This sa l sa verde i s super good.” “It’s my absolute favorite,” sa id Dad. The wa it ress came back a round and dropped of f the now fu l l cups. “How’s it ta st ing?” “Great.” “Wonder fu l.” “Awesome.” “That’s what we l ike to hear,” she sa id. “Can I get you any thing el se?”Mom opened up her taco to show the wa it ress . “How about some more tomatoes? There a ren’t many in here.” “Not a problem,” sa id the wa it ress . She wa lked away. A s I f inished up my f i rst taco, I not iced an older couple f lagging down the wa it ress a s she wa lked by. The old man a sked i f he cou ld get a ref i l l on his beer, the old woman on her g in. He a sked his wife i f she wanted some f r ied mushrooms or ja lapeno poppers. They kept debat ing whi le I took my la st bite.

-


THE SECOND was nearly ident ica l to the f i rst , but it wasn’t unt i l I began eat ing this one that I rea l i zed how fresh the vegetables were. The let tuce was cr i sp and green, the tomatoes ju icy a s though picked f rom the weeded lot out back. A pi le of chopped onions cr it icized my decision to v isit my Chicago-


land home and opt for these ba sta rd ized pi le s of beef. W hy not something a l it t le more rea l, maybe f rom a restaurant whose menu is Spanish-only? For that matter, when’s the la st t ime you enjoyed the snap of a natura l beef hot dog? This taco spl it whi le I ate it , spi l l ing it s contents a l l over the yel low shir t I bought the morning of my wedding rehearsa l in an ef for t to match the color scheme of the weekend. The bride wore a blue sundress that day and a white dress the next, in keeping with t radit ion.

My wife groaned a s she reached for my white c loth napk in. “Ryan, you’re r id icu lous.” She d ipped the napk in into a g la ss of water and began wiping a grea se spot on the chest of my shir t where a chunk of beef fe l l out of the spl it taco. Across the table, my mom was wiping grea se f rom my dad ’s shir t . “It’s genet ic , K risten,” Mom sa id. Dad sta r ted howling with laughter, h is tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, his eyes crossed. “Seriously,” Kristen sa id. “I don’t understand how he has any wearable c lothes at home. It’s ever y sing le mea l.” “That’s why you’ve got to buy dark colors,” sa id Dad. “See?” I sa id. “Smart man.” Both Kristen and Mom decided that good enough was good enough and set down the napk ins to cont inue eat ing. “So, how’s work?” a sked Mom. “Ehh,” sa id Kristen. “It’s work.” “St i l l look ing for a new job?” “Yeah,” Kristen sa id. “I ’m rea l ly t r y ing to f ind something with babies. I loved work ing in the NICU for my capstone. It’s just not an ea sy t ime to f ind new nursing jobs with a whole c la ss pa ssing their NCLEXs r ight about now.” “I got a new cl ient this week,” I sa id. K risten a lways hated the spot l ight. “W ho is it?” a sked Dad. “An OB/GY N.” Mom laughed loudly. -


THE THIR D was nothing i f not a del iver y system for the sa l sa verde the wa it ress had lef t for us on the table. The tavern where we sat was a place for sea food or for prime r ib, not tacos, but it’s been a t radit ion since the 1950’s that a lady f rom down the st reet stop in on Wednesdays to prepare her signature d ish. It i s re levant that this lady i s not Hispanic . This la st taco of the evening was remarkable not for it s sof t beef or grea sy tor t i l la , not for it s st i l l writhing toppings, but for what I can only a ssume was homemade green sauce. The sa l sa was f resh and tang y. It was hot but wel l complemented by the ju icy beef below. There was not enough sauce for a l l four of us. I se l f i sh ly poured what was lef t in the d ish on my taco and ate it because I was the only one who ordered three and could not be expected to ignore my r ight to an extra por t ion of sa l sa .

-

Tuesday, Apri l 11, 1995, 5:12 pm. Highland, Indiana. THE FOURTH was in a double f lour tor t i l la , which was a new experience for me at the t ime. It conta ined a la rge pi le of gr i l led steak reminiscent of a g yros sandwich ordered f rom a Greek fami ly restaurant, the k ind where you can’t f ind the pita underneath a l l of the meat. On top of the steak was a dol lop of guacamole, some f inely chopped onion, and a few sprigs of ci lantro. I was unsure of the onions, but they gave the tacos a peppery bite that was enjoyable. There was l ime on the side, which I squeezed on top of the taco at the ser ver’s urging.

“Oh, wel l there goes Ryan,” Gramma sa id with a smi le. “Didn’t even wa it for ever yone el se to get their food.” I set my taco down. “Sorr y.” “No, it’s okay, go ahead. Here comes Chela with the rest .” “Oh, here comes yours, Nate !” sa id Mom. The ser ver, Chela , held Mom’s chi laqui les in one hand and Nate’s bean burrito in the other. On plates, of course. She set them both down. “How are those huevos rancheros, Abuela?”


“Oh, del icious, thank you. I cou ld eat Mexican ever y day.” “Maybe you should,” Chela sa id. She looked at me and turned to Mom. “Wow, he’s a fan of my new taco, I take it . Hey, sweet ie, squeeze the l ime on top.” Mom reached for the l ime. “You want help? I can do it for you.” “No,” I sa id quick ly and reached for the l ime with my lef t hand. I squeezed the wedge over my taco, set the l ime down, and picked the it back up with the same hand to take a bite. “Okay,” Mom sa id under her breath. She reached for Nate’s plate and began cut t ing it for him whi le he squirmed for his food. “Just a minute, Nathan. W hat do we a lways do before we eat?” “We cut it up,” Nate sa id. “That’s r ight.” “So, big boy, how’s the a rm doing?” a sked Chela . “You want my signature?” I dropped my taco quick ly and reached for the sharpie I ’d been ca rr y ing a round in my pocket. “Yeah!” “Okay, let me see here.” She grabbed my a rm and found an empty spot to sign her name. “There you go.” “Thanks, Chela !” Mom sl id Nate’s plate back to him and took a bite of her r ice. “Comes of f at the end of the month. Unti l then, you’ l l probably be seeing us more than usua l.” “Is Mark away on a business t r ip?” Chela a sked. “Yes, he’s in At lanta unt i l Thursday,” Mom sa id. “Some computer convent ion.” “Does he l ike t ravel ing?” “We went to the Wizard of Oz with Dad la st month,” Nate sa id. “In Las Vegas.” “Yes we d id,” sa id Mom. “He does l ike it , and we get to go with him somet imes. But we a lready drug poor Ryan through the a irpor t with a broken a rm once, and we d id At lanta la st yea r.” Chela laughed. “Wel l you just let me know i f you need a margarita , Sandy.” She wa lked back into the k itchen. Mom

began a ssembling a taco with the ba sket of tor t i l la s that came on the side of her d ish. “I rea l ly cou ld,” sa id Gramma. “I cou ld eat Mexican ever y sing le day.”

-

Thursday, June 14, 2012, 12:24 pm. La Por te, Indiana.

THE FIFTH came highly recommended by both of my parents. It was prepared by a few hipsters who may not actua l ly be accurately descr ibed a s such on the ba sis of their residence in a town of just a few thousand. It was Ca l i fornian where my la st three tacos were Midwestern. The f i sh was f i rm but not dry. The bat ter was cr i spy. The cabbage crunched, the pico z inged and the spicy mayonna ise was pretent iously ca l led by some other name.

“So you work a round here, huh?” I a sked my father, who sat across the table with a chicken taco. He told me to get the f i sh, but he got the chicken. This inspired no conf idence. “Yeah, just on the other side of the block.” “Tuesdays and Thursdays?” He slurped f rom his pop. That’s what they ca l l it up near the lake. “Usua l ly. I t r y not to come here too of ten, but I can’t help it when I have to come down for work. These tacos a re awesome.” “Yeah they a re,” I chor t led through my f i sh. I chewed and swa l lowed. “So what do you do when you’re here?”

-

Thursday, June 14, 2012, 12:40 pm. La Por te, Indiana.

THE SIXTH rested atop a pi le of per fect ly sea soned Spanish r ice. It c losed only s l ight ly, it s overla rge f i let of t i lapia fa r too wide to be placed on a taco. Even without the mounta in of cabbage and sa l sa , th is taco would have been unmanageable. The r ice that stuck to the bot tom of the tor t i l la gave the taco a


del ight fu l extra d imension, but only a f ter the remova l of most of the f i sh. To this second f i sh taco I added some onions and ci lantro, mi ld sa l sa , hot sa l sa , and green sa l sa . This sa l sa verde was d isappoint ing when unfa irly compared to that of the tavern I enjoyed the night before.

“Most ly administ rat ive stuf f,” he answered. “I make ca l l s , check in. I plan my v isit s .” “How fa r i s your terr itor y? A l l the way to South Bend?” “Pret t y much,” he sa id. “They g ive me a l l the countr y churches in the middle of nowhere up here. It’s l ike you’ve got ever y thing in the Region, then a big gap unt i l you reach South Bend, then another big gap unt i l For t Wayne. I f i l l in the gaps. I ’m a gapper.” “Wel l, that’s pret t y cool, I guess.” I s lurped f rom my Coke. That’s what they ca l l it down in the southern par t of the state. “Get to see stuf f that a lot of people don’t , r ight?” “I get to see stuf f that nobody wants to see,” he laughs. “But it’s cool. It’s cool.” My dad has a lways had this way of sor t of sta r ing of f into the d istance when he’s think ing about something. A s he repeated, “It’s cool,” one more t ime, he made eye contact. “You know, a lot of these countr y churches out in the middle of nowhere - they’re just so d i f ferent. There’s st i l l a l l k inds of pol it ic s , of course. You get that ever y where. But it’s l ike they know their communit ies. They know their role. They don’t need fog machines to draw a crowd. There i sn’t much of a crowd to draw, any way. It’s cool.” I looked up toward the back of the restaurant, back behind the counter, to watch the sta f f work. We were just c lose enough to Chicago to make these dudes feel inadequate, and I think that’s why the mayonna ise was ca l led mayonesa even though the f i sh tacos were just ca l led f i sh tacos. That’s what they ca l l it in Mexico, so that’s natura l ly what foodies ca l l it in the West Loop, so that’s what they ca l led it there. W hatever you want to ca l l it , it was good. It was just so good. “That i s cool. I ’m t ired of the showbiz that goes on in ever y par t of our l ives,” I mused. “It’s a sinine,” Dad sa id, aga in sta r ing of f.

“You’re a sinine,” I sa id. He reached his a rm out and smacked my head. We both smi led.

-

Tuesday, January 5, 1999, 4:05 pm. Hobar t, Indiana.

THE SEVENTH was fa st food, a simple col lect ion of what might have been beef, of some cheese and let tuce and a f lour tor t i l la . I pu l led it f rom the bag and dug in before my f r iend and his mother cou ld stop me. A f ter I had eaten my f i rst bite, I cou ld sense some discomfort on their faces, and it was obvious that I had done something wrong.

“I ’m sorr y,” I sa id a s I folded the bag. “I forgot we weren’t eat ing now.” Hashem punched my a rm. “I told you we were going to break the fa st at sundown, moron.” His mother muttered something to him that I cou ldn’t understand. I cou ld see her eyes in the rea r v iew window. It was the middle of winter, and the sun was a l ready set t ing. It was no later than four thir t y, but the sunl ight fe l l per fect ly on her smi le. “It’s okay. Let’s just save the rest for when the whole fami ly get s home.” I paused for a few seconds and folded my taco back up. The sound of ruf f l ing paper covered the si lence just long enough for me to rea l i ze that something bigger was going on than a taco. “W hy a re we wa it ing?” I a sked. Hashem groaned. “I told you at lunch. It’s Ramadan, Ryan.” The only rea son I was in the ca r in the f i rst place was because of the big dea l I had made in the ca feter ia the day before when Hashem showed up with no lunchbox and no lunch money. I of fered him some of my rav iol i, but he refused. Something about this Ramadan business. I kept goading him about it unt i l he sa id that he’d a sk his mom i f I cou ld come over somet ime soon and see for mysel f. That night, h is mom ca l led mine and set it up.


“I thought we were get t ing the tacos because you didn’t get lunch today,” I sa id. I was growing more concerned a s t ime went on. How l it t le d id this fami ly have? W hy wouldn’t they let Hashem eat? “That’s exact ly r ight, Ryan,” sa id Hashem’s mom. “We got these so we cou ld celebrate later this evening. Because we haven’t eaten any thing a l l day.” “So it’s l ike a hol iday or something?” I a sked. “Yeah,” sa id Hashem. “It’s a huge hol iday.” “At my house on Christmas, we just eat a l l day long,” I sa id without sk ipping a beat. Hashem’s mother laughed loudly. “Wel l, just wa it unt i l the whole fami ly get s home and we wi l l show you what our hol iday looks l ike.”

-

Tuesday, January 5, 1999, 5:37 pm. Va lpara iso, Indiana.

THE EIGHTH was ice cold. Once we got home, we had placed the bags of food in the f r idge. Nobody seemed concerned with the fact that the tacos were a l l cold. The tor t i l la was st i f f, the meat grea sy, the let tuce s l ippery, the cheese hard. It was a sta rk contra st to the dates we had a l l eaten just moments before gathered a round the center i s land in the k itchen. It was about ha l f pa st f ive when the sun f ina l ly set and Hashem’s father sa id a few words. The sma l ler chi ldren were a bit fussy. A s I chewed my taco, the rest of the fami ly was tea r ing through theirs . This taco ended just about a s quick ly a s it began, and the mea l was over.

“We didn’t eat much,” I sa id a few minutes later when we were down in the ba sement. “Aren’t you hungry?” Hashem groaned aga in. “Yes, but that’s not the point. Besides, when you fa st l ike we have been, you can’t rea l ly eat too much. It’s bad for the stomach.” “Makes sense.” We were sit t ing in the middle of the ba sement. I stood up to wa lk over to a g iant rug hanging f rom the wa l l . Even then I knew it was beaut i fu l. It was ornate in it s design, a lthough the deta i l s have blurred in the years since.

It was brown and white and I cou ld have rol led up in it severa l t imes. I touched the f r i l l s a round the edges. They were sof t . “Pret t y cool, huh?” a sked Hashem. “It’s f rom the home countr y. We ca l l it a sajada.” “Is that Syrian?” I a sked. “W hat does it mean?” “There i s no Syrian,” sa id Hashem. “It’s A rabic , and it just means rug. We have a l l k inds of rugs for prayer.” “Is it par t of the hol iday?” “Wel l, yeah, but no. We use the rugs a l l the t ime. Every day.” “Every day?” “Every day.” “I think in my rel ig ion we just sor t of pray whenever we want. My mom prayed once before a mea l. It was l ike a poem. We held hands.” “That’s cool,” sa id Hashem, who was f idd l ing with a toy t ruck. “We a lways face East when we pray.” “Cool,” I sa id. The next day, I pocketed my lunch money and sk ipped out on the ca feter ia tacos, which were never, ever good. Hashem and I a rgued about the merit s of the Bul l s defense at the end of a long table. At the end of the day, I wa lked across the park ing lot to the convenience store and used my lunch money to buy sour apple candy and a blue s lushy. I got sick on the ca r r ide home.

-

Friday, June 15, 2012, 10:52 pm. Indianapol is , Indiana.

THE NINTH was ser ved to me by a team of two wa itresses who may be accurately descr ibed a s hipsters on the ba sis of both their appearance and their residence in the Founta in Square neighborhood of Indianapol is . It was simple, a pi le of per fect ly sea soned ca rne a sada atop two warm corn tor t i l la s . The wa it ress with the longest bangs informed me that it was inspired, l ike the ent ire restaurant, by the owner’s recent t r ip to Mexico. A folk band played behind me and I ate ner vously, a f ra id that the hammer du lcimer rest ing in f ront of the guita r i st would not be


used aga in by the end of the set . I needed a fork for a l l the meat that spi l led out of the taco into the ba sket.

I found mysel f groaning out loud when I thought it was just interna l. Josh looked up and smi led. We were in a sma l l cabaret where ever y thing was white, the l ights were purple, and the audience d idn’t match the Southern rock band on stage. “W hat’s wrong?” Josh a sked, st i l l smi l ing. I set down my can of beer. “I pa id ten dol la rs to get inside here, another seven dol la rs for a can of PBR, and some guy with a curly moustache won’t stop sta r ing at me.” Josh turned his head and found the man in quest ion, a guy sit t ing at the corner of the bar. I blew him a k iss and he looked down at his beer. “Come on,” Josh sa id. “You wanna go next door for some tacos?” “I ’ve had at lea st f ive tacos in the la st two days.” “So, yes,” Josh sa id a s he nodded. “Let’s get some tacos.” We wa lked next door and found two empty seat s at the bar a s the folk band on stage wrapped up their set . They sa id their thanks and of fered up this song a s their la st . Not long a f ter, the wa it ress set down our steak tacos and rushed away to grab someone el se’s order. “Excuse me, miss ,” I yel led out to her a s she s l ipped out of ea rshot. “W hat do you need?” a sked Josh. “A fork . Ha l f my taco spi l led out into the ba sket.” “These a re the best goddamned tacos on the planet.” I took another bite. “Yeah, they’re pret t y good.” We sat in si lence, h im eat ing his steak and me keeping an eye out for the next t ime the wa it ress would rush past . I began pick ing at the steak in my basket with my f ingers. “I mean, it’s just a pi le of steak,” Josh sa id, h is mouth fu l l . “So good.” “This one t ime I ate Taco Bel l at my f r iend Hashem’s house to break the fa st on Ramadan.” Josh laughed. “Rea l ly? Like recent ly?” “No. W hen we were k ids.”

The wa it ress wa lked up. “Can I get you guys any thing el se?” “A fork for me,” I sa id. Without say ing a word, she reached under the bar and pul led out a si lverware set wrapped in a sma l l paper napk in. “There ya go,” she sa id. “Thanks.” “And two shots of tequi la ,” Josh added. “Gotcha,” yel led the bar tender f rom the other end of the bar. “Hel l yes,” I sa id.

-

Friday, June 15, 2012, 11:01 pm. Indianapol is , Indiana.

THE TENTH had a l it t le more l ime ju ice on it than the f i rst . It was a decision I made despite my admirat ion of the simple steak taco I had just recent ly enjoyed, in par t due to the extra l ime wedge I had lef t over f rom a shot of tequi la . To this taco I a l so added a heap of the restaurant’s own pico de ga l lo, which ta sted a s though it had been prepared just moments ago. The tomatoes were d ist inct f rom the onions and the ci lantro, each element reta ining it s own f lavor. They d id not appear to have t ime to blend before ser v ice.


9 O r n a m e nt


What’ s wrong with her face?My mother purses her purse

at the l it t le statue of Our Ladyof Guada lupe. It’ s too gaudy

she says, al l that color. She sta r t s the ca r, pausing

on the brake to check her face in the rea r v iew mirror.

Our Lady of Guada lupe usua l ly blushesin “Hot Damn” with l ipst ickfrom Wet n Wild to match.

The standard vagina l shape a rc sa round her body l ike the shel l

Aphrodite break s openor “emerges” f rom

as myths wi l l have it . I th ink

Our Lady i s the k ind to break things open;she doesn’t go on emergingone toe at a t ime l ike some,

or worse, pretending d iscomfortat the act of becoming, or at others’

lack in becoming; Come on , Girlthey say at the s lumber par t y,

didn’ t anyone teach you how to curl your hair?


i bought the bag of chips at the pharmacy. the image on the

cel lophane was two white people driv ing into the sunset in a

conver t ible. a woman’s face in prof i le. i thought i would make

a joke about it to you, say, look, two white people going on

vacat ion got turned into these chips inside. i thought that i

might tel l you there weren’t any ethnic s on the bags, unless

you count that the orig ina l lays bag i s a l ready yel low and those

people were out l ined in red. i th ink that i might tel l you i wish

someday this cou ld be you and me.

back at the crossroads where we promised to meet you were

nowhere to be found. the two guys you had been yel l ing at were

st i l l there, sta r t ing f i res in the a ir with a t ravel can of ha irspray

and a l ighter. one was say ing he used to sta r t them in his room.

the other thought it was a bad idea . i d idn’t leave the chips with

them, since they had seemed l ike enemies of yours.

i f you want the chips, or just want to meet aga in, reply to this

and tel l me what I dropped on the monon, what you watched

me pick up f rom a d istance. you were caut ious, hopefu l, l ike

something might be lef t behind for you.

10 M i s s e d C o n n e c t i o n: I n d i a n a p o l i s


me: t iny g irl . denim capris , nose r ing. shor t ha ir. purple ea rbud

headphones. you probably see twenty of me a day in broad

r ipple, but i only saw one of

you: scrawny guy in a nav y blue tee. late 40s. f i lthy socks and

nike benassi sanda ls held together by a prayer. your breath

smel led l ike cheap mash a lcohol. you were yel l ing at two

younger guys on benches when i st rol led up. you fol lowed me.

you sa id “miss, can i a sk you something?” i stopped and sa id

yes. you were surprised. you told me i was the f i rst white g irl

who could hear you through my earbuds. you told me you’re

l iv ing on the st reet . you told me you hurt so bad. i bel ieved you,

and you could tel l . you thanked me for my t ime.

we shook hands at the place where the monon meets broad

r ipple avenue. you a sked me to buy you mcdona lds. i sa id no

to mcdona lds but i ’d pick you up something f rom CVS. you

hesitated, then agreed. i suggested a candy bar because it’s

f i l l ing but you sa id your teeth. you can’t eat sweets. ba rbecue

chips, you say. c lose enough to a candy bar, i thought. a l l that

corn syrup. but i agreed. we promised to meet back at that spot.


Glance and write.Feel inspired by invisible thread. This i s meaning. This i s meaning something el se.Store-boughtmeaning.It’s a goddamned st r ing.

Glance and write.Find the t ruth before it’s ba se,let’s smoke base. Let’s smoke base and let’s be happy that we got it .You a re important ca rgo. You a re cover up; pantsa forever scenario.

Cover up withsk in gra f t s . Facia l faces.Crabcake faces.

11 Crabcake faces (IT’S THE LAST LINE/LIKE A BANDIT)


Glance and write.Apparent ly this i s technique of a writer.Glance and write.My t ype-writer,hear it roar.Hear it c lat ter.Glance and write hard;write hard and write a lways in the same font.Write yoursel f ru les l ike wa it for pat ience,wa it for idea s, don’t wa it . Ever.Wait , don’t ever wa it for idea s ever, or don’t buy weednever st ray f rom the same font.Rules a re idea s about font and st ray dogs ca rr y ing weed or wa it ing ona pat ient wa it ing about font and st ray dogs and wa it ing.Many things seem to go in circ les .


12 Ijuin Dai and the Queen Bee


Once, not so ver y long ago, l ived the samura i Iju in Dai. He ser ved the Shimazu clan, a s his fami ly had for generat ions. Da i watched a s the cu lture of his ancestors grew more threatened each day. Drops of inf luence hit Japan f rom the West l ike blood enter ing waters fu l l of sta r v ing shark s, reminding men long set t led in their socia l posit ions of the ta ste of ambit ion. Da i considered the noble Shimazu clan above such corrupt ion, fa r f rom the capitol, in their va l ley where the apples grew in the shadows of the black mounta ins. But Dai should have remem-bered the old proverb: ta lk of things tomorrow and the mice in the cei l ing laugh. For soon the lord of the Shimazu clan ca l led Dai before him. “I have a sked permission of the Emperor to bring a beekeeper to our da imyo f rom England,” sa id Shimazu-dono “The man has requested an a ssi stant, and I thought f i rst of Soshi.”Soshi was Da i ’s only son, soon to be a big brother, curious about ever y thing. Da i knew he would rel i sh the opportunit y to lea rn more about bees, but was reluctant to see his son t ra ined by a Westerner. “Tosa must super v ise their meet ings, to ensure no misconduct takes place,” Shimzau-dono decreed, and so it was done— Soshi would at tend and lea rn f rom the foreign beekeeper under the watchfu l eye of his expectant mother. That night, next to Tosa under the thin blankets that covered their pa l let , Da i dreamed of the Queen Bee for the f i rst t ime,

her buzzing voice speak ing words he fa st forgot. He woke with v isions of the d iademic prisms of her eyes, each facet ref lect ing a d istor t ion of his rea l image. A sense of dread set t led over him about the beekeeper’s coming, but he d id not show it to his fe l low samura i in the t ra ining ha l l or the sauna. Some on the da imyo quest ioned the lord ’s decision to bring in an outsider, but Da i t rusted the lord ’s judgment. Soshi soon received a package in the post f rom no less than the Emperor’s own schola rs deta i l ing the beekeeper’s resea rch. This new way of construct ing a box to hold the hive would a l low honey to be extracted without the need to k i l l the bees, thus a l lowing the same colonies to l ive for yea rs. Soshi copied the del icate sketches of the insect s’ anatomy aga in and aga in into the smooth white sand that made up their dooryard, repeat ing the st range Engl ish syl lables over and over—thorax, abdomen, antenna.

The beekeeper a rr ived weeks later a f ter a long journey. Shima-zu-dono , h is three favorite wives, and the Iju in fami ly met the Engl ishman on the docks where his ship anchored. He was the f i rst white man any of them had ever seen, and a s he d isem-barked Dai wondered i f a l l h is countr ymen were of such ref ined features and square f rame. He advanced with a conf ident st r ide toward Shimazu-dono. Da i heard the concubines whispering to each other behind their fans. Shimazu-dono and the beekeeper stood in awkward si lence, bowing to each other, unt i l the t ranslator, a Japanese man of middle age, scurr ied of f the ship c lutching his bag to faci l itate their conversat ion. The Iju in fami ly were introduced. The beekeeper sa id some words in his harsh language that the t ranslator repeated back to them in an imper fect , hackneyed version of their d ia lect . Da i found he was l it t le concerned with what the man had to say, and fa r more preoccupied with the way Tosa’s l ips par ted when her eyes met the beekeeper’s , the high sweeps of color that suddenly c la imed her cheeks l ike apples in the ea rl ie st stages of r ipening. Even the beekeeper’s conf idence lagged in the face of Tosa’s beauty, and he stut tered a s he k issed her hand. That night Da i dreamed of the Queen Bee aga in, this t ime with c la r it y. He wa lked through the orchard to the deeper forest ,


where a path seemed marked for his eyes only by the branches of the t rees, twisted into a rcane markers. At the hear t of the wood he heard their buzzing, r ipe and furious, the sound an itch might make. She lay l ike a gem at the center of a nest of workers, seeming to swel l in size a s he approached unt i l she cou ld stand and face him. Her eyes once aga in swa l lowed his knowledge of his own ident it y, present ing in return a thousand possible selves, possible futures.Tomorrow you must lead them to us, she told him. It i s your f i rst te st .

The next day, a f ter the beekeeper had tested Soshi ’s knowledge and found him a worthy a ssi stant, he demonstrated the funct iona l it y of his fa l se wooden hive in the orchard. Da i accompanied his wife and son to the tutoria l, a long with the t ranslator, under the pretense of concern for Tosa’s hea lth but with the memory of the dream f irm in his mind. It was t rue that his wife’s cheeks were redder than norma l, her breath s l ight ly quickened. The g lances which passed at t imes between she and the beekeeper needed no translat ion, were beyond the barr iers of language. Da i was thank fu l Soshi was st i l l too young to see such things. Da i cou ld not deny he was s l ight ly hur t by Tosa’s new adorat ion; though they two had not married for love, many other men would have taken a concubine in the si x yea rs since their la st chi ld. He had hoped—presumed, rea l ly- -that his loya lt y to her would ea rn her own to him. St i l l, he set a side this d ist ract ing t ra in of thought to focus on his dream and it s message. W hen the t ime came apparent that bees themselves were needed before fur ther instruct ion could be g iven, Tosa stayed behind a s the men and Soshi ventured into the forest . The beekeeper gave both Dai and Soshi mesh masks and heav y g loves to wear, to protect them from the bees, but Da i knew they wouldn’t need them. Soon Dai had drawn them close to the place that echoed in his spir it f rom the dream. A s the sound of the swarm rose to their hearing Soshi murmured in excitement, to be hushed by the beekeeper, who needed no interpretat ion to determine that si lence and focus were key in the next stage of the ta sk . A s they drew closer they cou ld see the hol low tree that the colony had

outgrown, dark inside with old honey dried out l ike a long-kept secret . The c luster of bees writhed on a nearby branch, and Dai knew the queen was somewhere at their hear t , the magnet to which they a l l adhered.

The beekeeper opened up a la rge canvas sheet he’d ca rr ied a l l th is way and spread it on the ground beneath the swarm, then set a wooden crate in it s center. He gestured to Soshi to come forward, and the boy stood close by a s the beekeeper shook the branch once, twice, and sent the whole c lump tumbling into the box l ike a ca scade of wet sand. With no honey to defend the bees were pa ssionless , and a l lowed themselves to be ca rr ied back within the borders of the da imyo. Tosa wa ited for them st i l l at the hive, her face ag low at their v ictory, and for the f i rst moments of their advance Dai fe lt her regard for his prowess. But soon her gaze turned to the beekeeper, who exper t ly deposited the whole c luster of bees in their new hive.Weeks pa ssed before Da i dreamt aga in of the Queen Bee, weeks in which the beekeeper and Soshi fed the colony waters sweetened with weak r ice wine and precious beet sugar, weeks in which the g lances between the beekeeper and Tosa sweetened.


His son lea rned the habit s required of one who spoke with the bees. Tosa’s bel ly swel led l ike the r ipening moon headed toward the peak of it s luminance, and ever yone spoke of her radiance in motherhood. Only Dai knew that it was the g low of love. Or perhaps not, he worried. The wives of the other samura i were percept ive women, and none were bl ind to the handsomeness of the beekeeper, with whom Tosa spent long days. He had no true rea son to mistrust Tosa’s f idel it y. During the day the t ranslator played chaperone, and at night she s lept beside him from dusk to dawn, she and his chi ld within her. His wife, h is proper t y by law. But her obvious pa ssion for the beekeeper haunted Dai into his s leep. He lay awake some nights unt i l even the cr ickets had stopped singing, imagining the futures he’d seen ref lected in the Queen Bee’s eyes. W hat i f Tosa lef t h im to fol low the beekeeper back to his st range land? W hat i f the beekeeper should somehow be a l lowed to stay? These quest ions hummed in his mind, a steady drone of anx iet y he found escape f rom in s leep for only a few hours each night. Then, just when his mind seemed about to break, the Queen Bee returned to his dreaming. This t ime she was lustrous, r ich, a s though made f rom pol len hersel f. Da i sought a g l impse of k indness in the ref racted domes of her eyes, but cou ld read no emotions there. Tomorrow, you must ca l l on us and fol low, she sa id. It i s your second test .

The next day ra in rol led in a l l at once f rom the west and drove Sosha, Tosa , and the beekeeper into the house, where Dai sat in meditat ion. Thus interrupted, he emerged into the main room just in t ime to see the precious neck lace a round his wife’s neck break, the neat porcela in beads tumbling a l l across the board f loors and into the corners. She began to weep t remendously, for she had made the neck lace hersel f for their wedding and usua l ly reser ved it for specia l occa sions. A s he soothed her gr ief, Da i wondered what had possessed her to put it on today. A s la st t ime, his dream was heav y on his mind, so a plan sprung to him immediately.

“I wi l l col lect these shel l s , my wife,” he sa id, for the c louds were c lea r ing a s quick ly a s they’d come. “You return to the orchard so Soshi may cont inue his le sson.”Once he was a lone, Da i gave a ca l l : bees bui ld ing there anchor to my st rong voice, fol low del icious lureBees suddenly f i l led the room, c lot s of darkness in the a ir col lect ing the del icate beads f rom the crack s and creva sses where they’d fa l len. Da i bowed low out the door in respect and sought the orchard and the hive, but f rom a roundabout d irect ion, so that he’d approach behind the lovers , not in their l ine of sight. From a shady grove of apple t rees now dropping the la st of their blossoms he watched the beekeeper and Tosa. The pa ir stood monitoring Soshi a s the boy removed the wooden and mesh f rames f rom their ca sing, examining the bees ca refu l ly for signs of d isea se. He watched the beekeeper’s hand tra i l to the sma l l of his wife’s back where the f inger t ips made gent le contact, support ing the cur ve of her spine mere inches f rom where Dai ’s own chi ld grew into l i fe. Watched his wife’s l ips move c lose to the beekeeper’s ea r in a whisper near enough to be a k iss . His hear t hardened, and he returned home to his dark meditat ions.Once Tosa returned she rejoiced over the pi le of beads that met her ; the bees found ever y la st one.

Dai cha l lenged the beekeeper to a duel a f ter the way of his forefathers—by submit t ing his gr ievance to the dono.“I have rea son to bel ieve the Engl ish beekeeper ha s a ssau lted my wife’s honor and the d ignit y of my house,” Da i excla imed in the banquet ha l l the next evening. A murmur swept through the room, quick ly si lenced by a gesture f rom Shimazu-dono , who atop his throne somehow kept one eye on the beekeeper and one eye on Tosa at the same t ime. Both had turned cr imson, a shade par t icu la rly unbecom-ing on the beekeeper. Da i was grat i f ied to see some of the other man’s charm stolen, but only for a moment unt i l Tosa spoke her answer to the charge whi le the beekeeper was st i l l stammering something to the t ranslator.


“I answer that my husband speaks t rue; I have k ind led a love for the beekeeper that competes with my love of my honor, and however this duel resolves, I seem dest ined to a broken hear t .” But Dai fe lt no sympathy, for he saw now that his wife’s t reachery ran deeper than he supposed. She dared to t ru ly love the beekeeper.A few hours later the sta r t l ing news came to him; a f ter much translat ion, the beekeeper agreed to the duel, with the condit ion that should he win, he and Tosa would be a l lowed to go away a f ter she gave bir th. The chi ldren would remain here with Dai. The men would f ight to d isa rm, not to the death, an agreement which actua l ly ra ised Dai in the esteem of his peers , who saw him a s merci fu l to agree to spare the beekeeper’s l i fe and grant him ex i le.Da i spent the night in the temple, pray ing, meditat ing, and fa st ing. A s the sun was about to break the horizon, he fel l a s leep, and dreamed aga in of the Queen Bee. This t ime her presence in his dreams was shadowed, the sk ies turbulent. In her eyes he cou ld barely make out his own shape, but he cou ld see now a redness g lowing within her, something v iolent awoken. Tomorrow you must unlea sh us on your worst enemy, she sa id. That i s your third test .

Da i fe lt it would d ishonor him to appear before the beekeeper in the fu l l a rmor of his fathers, so he wore only a simple t ra ining brea stplate with his lacquered helmet and greaves. He didn’t expect the beekeeper would know much about using a sword. He considered that i f he lost he would be expected to commit su icide, and decided he would want to, though he hated to think of the impact on Soshi. The duel was scheduled for high noon in the main courtyard, a long d istance f rom the hive in the orchard. Even before Shima-zu-dono‘s counselor had f inished announcing the ru les , Da i had begun to ca l l the bees gent ly, summoning them with a l l the st rength of his indignat ion at having his marriage d isrupted, his proper t y d isturbed. The chi ld growing inside the woman and the woman were both meant to be his .The beekeeper sa id something to the t ranslator, who was then conversing with the counselor who had expla ined the ru les. His

adversa r y held the sword with a surprising conf idence, but Da i wasn’t a f ra id of him or his ca refu l quest ions. Let the man tr y to lea rn; there was no hope of his v ictory.Dai was possessed by the cold spir it of r ighteousness, and had just one moment to feel it s chi l l ing , v ita l i z ing ba lm before the swarm of bees consumed him, boi l ing underneath his a rmor, each warr ior g iv ing her l i fe and her body for the sat i sfact ion of a sing le bruta l st ing to his ego. Da i ’s la st v ision was of the Queen Bee’s mirrored eyes, h is la st rea l i zat ion that none of the men ref lected there were him, no, not one.


13 A Study in Sand

R y a n B r o c k

“Once the c loth i s la id down, I pick up this brush and get down to business ,” sa id the man with white ha ir, h is back turned to a massive pipe. “I f ind that i f you move l ike this , you get the best pieces.” He began to run the wire brush a long the rust ing meta l ’s sur face and f lakes of ceru lean pa int fe l l to the ground l ike snow. “Yes,” acknowledged Amit, a scrawny young man of no more than twenty. “Like this .” He reached out to take the brush f rom his new mentor, an old man named Jehanza ib with dry sk in and cracked feet . Very ca refu l ly, ver y natura l ly, Amit t ick led the towering pipe with a loose wrist , f reeing only the loosest chips of pa int f rom their canvas. “Plea se, my hands belong to a worn man. Use that st rength,” Jehanza ib laughed a s he s lapped Amit in the back. “A l l r ight,” sa id Amit. He began to push with his shoulders. His wrist grew oddly st i f f a s he leaned into the tube, an ant pushing a watermelon. The pipe was at lea st for t y years old and was abandoned during the revolut ion. Amit and Jehanza ib l ived ha l f a mi le away, next door to each other in a pa ir of shacks that rested up aga inst the main. The many other homes in their v i l lage were spread a round l ike this with pockets of one or two rest ing aga inst the many pipes that st retched out f rom the ref iner y. “Very, ver y good, Amit. Can you handle this by yoursel f for a moment whi le I go grab the ja rs f rom my house?”

Amit kept scrubbing, with both hands now, and let out an a f f i rmat ive grunt. “Just keep doing that,” sa id Jehanza ib. “This i s a quick le sson. By the t ime I get back, we wi l l have to stop for the day.” “Okay.” “Thanks, boy,” sa id the teacher, s lapping Amit’s back aga in, turning toward the sun to wa lk home. Amit stopped and backed up to inspect the pi le of chips and dust that lay on the drop cloth below him. Dropping the brush, he knelt down and scooped some of the loot into his hands and crushed it . The f ine powder it produced was much brighter than the gr imy blue that st i l l covered the top of the pipe l ike f rost ing on a rusted écla ir. “Per fect ,” breathed Amit. “Don’t get la zy on me now, boy,” shouted Jehanza ib f rom the d istance. Amit looked up, but the old man was too sma l l a shape to make out in the face of the sun that so bri l l iant ly bla zed on the horizon. “Sorr y, just moving the c loth, si r !” “Yeah, yeah,” Amit thought he heard Jehanza ib say. The young man stood up and brushed the dust of f h is hands whi le look ing a round at his neighborhood. There was rea l ly nothing worth not ing beyond the pipe and Amit’s shack, which was a lmost invisible next to the set t ing sun. The yel low twi l ight covered the empty ghet to in a f it t ing f i lm of rust y orange and only the standing water in the d ir t roads and the heaps of g la ss and pla st ic in peoples’ meager ya rds shone back a s Amit’s eyes scanned his surroundings. Chi ldren were laughing in the d istance. He picked the brush up and got back to work, scouring ever y reachable inch, covering himsel f and the sandy ground under his feet in unnatura l blue powder. A s he moved, the pi le s of chips and powder heaped a long with him. By the t ime the sweat from his brow reached his mouth, it tasted like chalk and metal. Before long, the old man was back. He was ca rr y ing a la rge satchel on his back that c lanked with each of his steps. “Good progress ,” he obser ved, stopping at the edge of the ta rp and gent ly set t ing the sack on the ground. Amit stopped and looked at the man. He looked over his shoulder at the t ra i l of bare rust he had bla zed in a few shor t


minutes and turned back to Jehanza ib. “Thanks. I wanted to race the sun,” he sa id, nodding to the fading l ight on the horizon. “That’s the spir it . You a re a racehorse. You must f ind your own carrot.” “R ight,” sa id Amit, wiping his face, ready to move on. “W hat do we do now?” Jehanza ib pu l led the bag onto the ta rp and opened it . He pul led out a mason ja r and tossed it to his apprent ice. “Be ca refu l. These a re hard to come by.”

“Okay.” “Wel l,” began Jehanza ib, “now we begin the happy process of get t ing the shit at your feet into these l it t le ja rs .” The old man got down on his knees and began pushing mounds of blue sand into the crock in his hands. “Do you have another brush for this?” a sked Amit. “I tried that long ago. The hand is the best tool for this job.” “Okay.” “You’re not gonna let the old man f i l l more ja rs than you, a re you, boy?” “Not a chance,” smiled Amit as he dropped to the ground. “That’s a good horse,” muttered Jehanza ib. He moved down a bit , pu l l ing the sack of ja rs with him. “You a re much taller than me. Your piles are taller, too, because you can reach higher.” “Thanks,” sa id Amit. The pa ir made their way down the c loth unt i l the pi le s were no more. They f i l led nine ja rs , a ver y good number according to Jehanza ib. Amit was made to ca rr y the satchel a s they marched back to their homes and the old man slung the dust y c loth over his shoulders. By the t ime they reached Jehan-za ib ’s shack, any l ight lef tover f rom the day had dissipated l ike smoke into the night sky.

“The yellow twilight covered the empty ghetto in a f itting f i lm of rusty orange”[ ]

Jehanza ib entered f i rst , wa lk ing through the shower cur ta in he used a s a f ront door. “Don’t worr y about your feet ,” he sa id a s Amit entered the house. It was sma l l and smel led l ike Amit’s sweat ta sted. Two wa l l s were made of stacked cinder blocks and the other two of something much f l imsier, a l l four of them covered in spot ted sheet s. There was a mattress in one corner and a sing le table in the center of the room, and on top of the table sat a c lay pitcher and a ba sin f i l led with a soupy blue l iquid. “I ’ve never worried about them before,” sa id Amit. “W here should I put the bag?” Jehanza ib turned back a f ter dropping the c loth aga inst the fa r wa l l . He pointed to a sma l l pi le of pa int-f i l led ja rs in the corner. “Empty it over there. Be ca refu l.” Amit decided to take the powder ja rs out one at a t ime, stack ing them neat ly a round the pi le of f inished work that was a l ready there. “How many of these ja rs do you have?” he a sked a s he placed one of the pa int ja rs f rom the f loor in the ela st ic wa ist of his pants. “About seventy. I used to have more, but many of them have d isappeared.” Amit f roze. Without turning a round, he ca lmly a sked, “W here a re they going?” “I don’t know,” breathed the old man. “Some people don’t return them a f ter they’re empty, I think. I guess I should sta r t a sk ing for a higher deposit .” “Probably.” Amit stood up and looked a round aga in. “So, you have blue in the bowl f rom before. We got lot s more of the blue today. Do we sta r t another color tomorrow?” “Nobody ca res what color they get. In this place, boy, pa int i s pa int.” “I suppose. W hy don’t you pa int your home?” Jehanza ib laughed. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? W hy doesn’t the pa int man bother with any pa int himsel f ? I guess I ’ve just never spent enough t ime here to ca re.” Amit wa lked to the door. “So, then, what do we do next?” “In the morning I ’ l l show you how to pound what we got today into a f iner dust . Then we can work on the hard par t .” “The hard par t?”


“It takes an exper t eye to get the r ight mix. I f we add too much water to the powder, the pa int wi l l be no good,“ sa id Jehanza ib a s he wa lked over to his bed. “And that’s bad for business ,” sa id Amit. He turned to leave, but stopped before crossing the threshold. “W hen do we get to make a d i f ferent color?” Jehanza ib s lowly took a seat on the mattress. “W hen it’s good for business. The blue f rom our pipe here wi l l be just f ine whi le I t ra in you.” “Okay. Good night, si r.” “You, too, Amit. Thanks for your help tonight. It wi l l be nice to have a f resh set of hands with me.” “I look forward to lea rning more,” sa id the young man a s he turned to leave. He crossed the ya rd ca refu l ly so not to get his feet muddy and slowly wa lked through the blanket hanging on the f ront of his shack. Inside, h is mother and si ster were a l ready a sleep. He cont inued to t iptoe a s he crept a round their bed in the middle of the f loor and l it a cand le in his corner. Just l ike Jehanza ib ’s house, ever y wa l l of Amit’s house was draped with some k ind of c loth or another. So, too, were a l l of Amit’s persona l belongings covered, g iv ing the shanty a fa l se a ir of order or c leanl iness. He reached for a sma l l pi le to his lef t and pul led of f the sheet to revea l a col lect ion of the old man’s mason ja rs , each f i l led with a d i f ferent color of reconst ituted pa int. Dried brushes lay st rewn across the f loor and one of the ja rs was f i l led with murky water. Li f t ing his shir t , he reached for the ja r of blue pa int he had stolen f rom his e lderly neighbor and set it with the others a f ter removing it s l id. He stood up to pu l l the sheet down f rom one of the wa l l s , revea l ing a ha l f-f inished pa int ing of the oi l ref iner y across town. He reached for a brush and wet it in the g la ss , then dipped it s lowly into the f resh ja r of pa int. Very ca refu l ly, ver y natura l ly, Amit t ick led the wa l l with a loose wrist , adding a ser ies of blue pipes to the labyrinthine mass of tubing and smoke stack s. A f ter just a few moments, he stopped and backed up a bit to inspect the pa int ing on the wa l l before him. Dropping the brush, he knelt down and put the l id back on the pa int ja r before blowing out the candle and crawl ing into bed.

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