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  • :

    GoPlaces:SeaCreatures

    July:Issue5

  • ContributorsJesseCataldo http://www.jessecataldo.com/ RachaelEasterly EmilyHiggins EileenHillery http://www.eileenhillery.com/ EmilyHockaday emily.hockaday.poetry@gmail.com GordonHolden http://www.gordonholden.com/ MeganHummel TiffanyNavarro http://www.tnavarro.blogspot.com/ AmelaParcic JackieSherbow TerinTalarico MonicaWendel CoverDesignbySimoPeretti WaltzinJennybyThemDamnHamiltons

    ThemDamnHamiltonswriteandperformoriginaldarkNewEnglandfolkwithatouchofgypsyswaggerandseachanteystomp.www.themdamnhamiltons.com

    CreatedandCuratedbyHannahRaineBrennerLeonard

  • DearFriends,

    WhaleMystic,collage,2011

    Thankyoutoallthecontributorsformakingitgreat!Hopeyoulovethisone.

    Truly, Hannah

  • SeaBurialJackieSherbow

    listofbeachlife,LongIslandSound,9/11/2000snail,shell,weeds,ladybugs(note:check),oneblackarrowhead,smallwhitecrabs.Oceanside,CA,7/4/2009AMarinedrownedinthemiddleofthedayjustdownthebeachmightaswellhavebeennexttome:thewaywaterflows.Requirementsforburialatsea:musttakeplacethreenauticalmilesfromlandandinwateratleastsixhundredfeetdeep.Certainareasrequiredeeperwater.Allnecessarymeasuresshallbetakentoensurethattheremainssinktothebottomrapidlyandpermanently.listofsealifefromdream,2012areunionofoldfriendstiedupinoceandwellingplants:theMarinefromIndependenceDayweekend,redtide,myAuntM.sashes,silverknottedflyfishingties,skippingrocks,thegirlmymotherdoveintoretrievefromthepoolsdeepend,MaisieafterjumpingoverthefencetothebrokenglassshoreoftheEastRiver,theviewofLowerManhattanfromthewater,mytoesskimmingthetipsofeveryone'sfloatinghair.

  • Mom'sBathroom, Northglenn,Colorado,January2010TerinTalarico

  • ByNightWithTorchAndSpearJesseCataldo

    Theyspenttheirdaysonthebeachandatnighttheyargued.Quietarguments,oneswithroundededges,whereshewouldbreakaglassinthesinkandhewouldmurmurunderhisbreath:forGod'ssakehowmanytimes?Shewasn'tworkinganymoreandhewaspaintingthethingshewanted,deadcantedtreesandemptybeds,theirsheetsgrayandunwashedandsinister.Thingsthatmadethemeninthelittlegalleriesonthehilltilttheframesslightlytotheirsides,bemusedlooksappearingontheirfaces.Hewasn'tworried.Theydidn'tneedthemoney.Summerendedandtheystayedthere,intheshorehousewiththreerooms,onthebeacheachdayinsweatshirtsandlongpants.Thetouristswenthome,ofcourse,andtheicecreammanlefthistruckbehind,parkedonasandycornerneartheboardwalk.Beforethishehadimaginedthattherewassomeonetotidyupwhentheseasonwasover,acleaningmanwithacartorapickuptruck,scouringthebeachfortrashanddebris.Buttherewasnosuchperson.Thecellophanewrappersandplasticbagssunktheirwaydownintothesandorblewoutintothesea.Thewaveswereglassyandcalmandtherewasseaweedeveryday.Bynowthewaterwascoldenoughthatitdidn'tmatter.Theysayitsfulloftinymaggots,theseaweed,Heathersaidasifitwasntbadenough.

    Hemadeadisgustedface.Itwasanothercoldday.Likealwaystheyhadwokenatdifferenttimes,eatendifferentbreakfasts,takentheirmorningwalksalone.Butbynoontheywouldbeonthebeachagain,reading,orsketching,orjustlookingoutatthewater.

    Cleanermaggotsthough,hesaid,atleastrelatively.BecauseofthesaltImean.Peoplewerestillthereintown,somewhere.Theywouldrunintostrangersinthecornerstore

    andsayhello,forcedintofriendlinessbythenewfoundemptinessoftheplace.Butthebeachwasempty.Therewasoneperson,anoldwoman,whohadsetupacardtablenearthestepsdownfromtheboardwalk.Shesoldseashells,unironically,readingromancenovelswithsurprisinglytastefulcovers.SheworeaNavajochief'sblanketaroundhershoulders,aheavythingwithamaroonandgoldpattern.Thismustbeoneofthosepeople,hethought,theonesHeathersfatherhadspokenabout,theweirdoswhoclungtothetownallyearround,throughcoldweatherandwarm,likedeadantsonoldPopsiclesticks.Thiswomanmaywellhavebeenthereduringthesummer,sittingoutamongthefruitsellersandthecaricaturists,withtheirsampledrawingsofoutdatedcelebrities.Ifshewastheyhadnotnoticed.Nowtheysawhereveryday,hershellslaidoutmessilyonthetable,asiftheyhadwashedupthere.Theywerenotthesamekindofshellsyouwouldfindonthebeach.Theylookedforeign,withviolentpatterns,streakedsunsetaccumulationsofpurple,orangeandred.Thewomanlearnedbothoftheirnamesandtalkedtothemwhentheypassed,aboutthesoundthewavesmadeonthejettyandtheislandjustoffthecoast,whichtheycouldseebuthadnevervisited.

    Itsthekindofplacewhereyouseeflowerseverywhere.Inthebackseatsofabandonedcars.Justgrowing.Yearafteryearandthepetalspileuponthefloor.Fallingdowncottagesallcoveredinivy.Thewomankeptherhairtiedstifflybackandwhenshespokeherhandsfluttered,asinthemotionofsomecomplicateddance.Whenyouseeahouselikethat,ahousewithrootstearingupthecellar,thingslivingintherafters,deadleavesuptoyourkneesintheoldkitchen,youfeelsomethingrighthere.Shetouchedherchest.Andthedogs.Thereareoldstraysthathavegonewildandatnightyoucanhearthemcryingbythewaves.Atnightthelightsonthenearsideoftheduneswentdarkfirst,thenthoseupabove,inthesmallerbungalowswhereoldcoupleshadsettleddownforgood,leavingonlytowatchthewavesandpickup

  • groceries.Therewerestillboatsoutinthewater,andfromtimetotimeonewouldpassclosetotheshore,theglintofitslightsreflectinginthewindow.Sometimestheywouldgobyquickly;othertimestheymightsitoutthereforhours,faroff,likesomethingpaintedonthesky.Whenhesawonehewouldwalkovertothewindow,pickinguptheashtrayinonehandandstandingthere,theasheswanderingoverthelipofthetray,hisfacesmushedupagainsttheglass.

    Shepaintsthoseshells,Heathersaidlater.TheywereplayingScrabbleandhewassurprisedtofind,hourslater,thattheoldwomanwasstillonhermind.Hehadjustspelledtheword'fuzz'butnowregrettedit,howoutofplaceitlooked,theuglyblockageitputontheboard.

    They'reconvincing,sure,butIknowforafactshepaintsthem,Heathercontinued.Hewonderednowifthewomanwasstilloutthere,ifshespentallnightundertheboardwalk,

    sleepingwrappedupinthatblanket.Thisseemedpossible.HeknewwhyshebotheredHeather,whofearedthingsthatmadeherfeelstupidorunbalanced.Thewomanlikelydidthis,throughthecarefulwayshespoke,poppingoutsyllableslikesoapbubbles,inthearch,measuredtoneofaBaedeker's.

    Whydoesitmatterwhattheyare?heasked.Itdoesn'tmatter.That'swhyitmatters.Whosellsshells?Andoffseason?Whatdoesshe

    thinkthisis?Thiswashowtheargumentsstarted.Shewouldpushhimtodefendasidehehadwouldnot

    normallyhavetaken.Fromherehewouldstruggletogetback,toescapethetopicandthesidehedbeenassigned.Indoingthishewouldenduptakingontheargument.Thiswashowhefoundhimselfdefendingnucleararms,dogshows,ChiquitaBanana,theoldracistwhoownedthetshirtshop.Eventuallyhewouldrealizethathewastrapped.Then,slowly,thefightwouldwinddown.Theywouldgotosleepandinthemorningwhenhewokeupshewouldalreadybegone,ashallowdentinthesheetswhereshehadslept.Usuallyhewouldlosethearguments,becausehisheartwasnotinthedefense.Heatherwasatenaciousandwilydebater.Therealityofhislosswouldlingerwithhimandtosavefacehe'dbeforcedtostartanotherfightlater,pickingatherforsomethingpointless,thewayshecoughedorhowshelefttheforkshalfwashed,inthedishdrainerdottedwithgritandcrust.

    Didyouwashtheseinthesand?hemightask,quizzically.TherewouldbesilencefromthecouchwhereshesatwiththelightoffandtheTVvolumeonlow.Heknewthesekindsofcommentshurther.Shehadnopatiencefordishesanditwasalwaysdarkinthekitchen.Ifshedidapoorjobitwasonlypartiallyherfault.Soshewouldsaynothing,walkintothebedroomandclosethedoor.Or,ifthingsthatdayhadbeenmoreamicable,shemightwhine:

    MorganforGodssake.YouknowI'mnotgoodwiththesethings.Iknowthat.Ido,hewouldanswer.Sowhybringitup?Whynot,hewouldask,justcleantheforks?

    Itwasavacationhouse.Thismeantitwasfilledwiththings,allthecastoffdriftwoodofherprivilegedchildhood:frayedstuffedanimals,ovenmitts,booksthathadbeentrappedbetweenbedsandwallsforfifteenyears.Therewasa1987calendarinthekitchen,asmallyellowboxwithallthemonthsononepage,highupabovethecabinetswherenoonehadbotheredtotakeitdown.Hethoughtoftenaboutherandthehouse,thetimesthathadbeensharedbeforehegotthere,whatwouldhappenaftertheyhadgone,thethingstheplacemeanttoherthathewouldneverunderstand.Therehadbeenweekendsherewhenshewasthegrinningfiveyearoldhesawinpictures,whenshehadwokenupearlyinthemorningsanddoveintoherparentsbed,squirmingherwayunderneaththecovers.Nowitwastheirbed,withdarkstainsonthecoverletfromlyingonitwiththeirshoeson.Tohimitwasnothingmorethanadrearyplace,onethatseemedbarelyaliveevenwhenitwaswarm.Therewasastinkofdeadwoodandagriminess,anancientmusttothewalls,thatwouldhavenotcomeouteveniftheydtriedtoremoveit.Hecouldnotgetpastthis,couldnotforma

  • sentimentalbondwiththissadlittleplacethatwasnotreallyahomeorevenahouse.Thereseemednoreasontotry.ByOctoberitwasfullofdrafts,alwayscold,thereflectedcharmofsummercompletelystrippedaway.Itscreakingwoketheminthenight. Thewaterlookslikestewnow,hesaid,Inthesummerithasthatnicelightness,butnowitslikeredmiso.Theseaweeddoesnthelpthings.

    Iguesssheanswered.Idon'tknow,hesaid.It'snotthemostbeautifulthingintheworld,sheagreed.

    Theirchairswerefacingoneanotherforsomereason.Herslookingoutandhisfaceuptowardthehillandtheboardwalkandthetownbehindit.Helookedatthelinesonherfaceunderthesunhatshestillstubbornlywore.Sherepeatedsomethingtohimthatherfatheralwayssaid,aboutneverturningyourbackontheocean.Fromthebeginninghehadthoughtofthehouseassomethingherparentsbought,aweddingpresentfromtheirparentsorapurchasesharedamongsiblings.Whenhefoundoutotherwise,thatithadbeeninthefamilysince1923,thatseveralpeoplehadhoneymoonedthere,thatoneofhergrandfather'scousinshadchokedtodeathonanappleintheverysamekitchenheatehisFrostedFlakes,hefeltspooked.Thisoldnessgrantedaconfusingvacuitytothethingshere,robbingthemoftheircontextandplaceandloosingthemtoagelesslimbo.Thethingslyinginthehallandbedroomclosets,theshuttlecocksandloosestripsofnetting,thelawnmowerparts(althoughtherewasnolawn),spadesandtrowels,darkgreentennisballs,hats,boots,bundledlengthsoftwineandstring,boxesofhandwrittenrecipes,ClueandTrivialPursuitinoutdatedboxes,withmildeweatenboardsthatlookedlikethefloorsofneglectedmansions.Wheredidthesethings