strapped zine - volume i issue ii

8/13/2019 STRAPPED zine - Volume I Issue II

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Volume 1 Issue ii Comfort & Discomfort>

Tranquility Photography by BreAnna Martinez


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B

Are you STRAPPEDLets face it...youre STRAPPED.Strapped for time, strapped for

money...either youre strapped,youre loaded, or youre lying.

This mini zine was created toencourage those who put off theircreativity (I dont have time!) to

come together and create anyways.To encourage each other and

become part of a community ofother artists, writers, and everyday

people who dont even considerthemselves creative.

Everyone has something interestingto share...even you...ESPECIALLYyou...were all strapped, so lets

start creating and sharing and be

strapped together!(duct tape is optional)

This Issue:Comfort & Discomfort

Dori Cameron@floggingdori

There are some feelings that areinnate since birth. Comfort and

Discomfort know no race...areuniversal to our everydayexperience. The tension of

discomfort weaves its way intothe comfortable, and we are left

to untangle these conflictingemotions. The following pages

express these feelings that are sodeeply embedded into us.

Theres no handbook to dealing

with the balance between thetwo...besides, how would werecognize and appreciate

wellness without pain?

[email protected]

/STRAPPEDzine

Scribd.com/STRAPPEDzine

by The ScorpianThese Boots Were Made For Walkin

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

Submissions of art, photography, poetry, shortstories, prose, paintings, photography, and sketches

are entirely welcome and encouraged,wherever you are in the world!

Keep writing new material and stay posted online

for upcoming themes, writers block suggestions,and more!

Barbara KyrissGoodness Forsaken pencil sketch by

the shit; she just came to do her thing and have a good time and no one dared

tell her No.

We soon made eye contact and of course, I smiled when she smiled. Then, Iturned around and did my best to ignore her. When she eventually stood next

to me and ordered her drink, I felt those metaphorical butterflies in my stom-ach. Actually, I felt them literally.

I became nervous and insecure in the one place I thought I could be impervi-ous. After all, this was my bar. Whos this girl, coming in here and stealingmy thunder? Even my favorite overly-confident bartender seemed a little shy.

He had nothing better to say to her demands than As you wish. No sly com-ment, no fancy trickshe even had to ask for the cherry.

After her drink was made, I couldn't help it. If he wasn't gonna grow someballs and say What's up? I had to...right? So I said, Hi, I like your boots.Stupid! Who says shit like that? Well apparently, it was perfect because she sat

down and began talking to me like we were old friends. Was this my soul mate

or did she just have a kind soul? Either way, I was captivated by her.

e all have our own personal comfort

spot. That little crack in the rock where

we feel safe and cozy. Totally at easefrom all the terrible, evil things that hide

in the shadows all around us.

For me, its my favorite watering hole,the local hangout where everyoneknows your name. The place where youwalk in and it takes twenty minutes just

to hug everyone and say Hello." I lovewalking through the doors and feeling, Ithink I heard a little applause for my

semi-grand entrance.

Then one night, she walked in. This girlwas drop dead gorgeous. She was

church girl wholesome, yet enticinglyerotic. To say it short, a ratchet she was

not...but something to covet? Perhaps.

Her eyes said she was a boss and she

exuded the kind of confidence reserved

solely for royalty. She truly didn't care ifyou were the shit or if you cleaned up
http://zimplebitz.blogspot.com/2012/04/undo-send-mails-eazy-trick.htmlhttp://www.underconsideration.com/brandnew/archives/facebooks_radically_new_f_logo.php


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by Billy Reynolds

flip flops. I made a joke about

her not wearing her ugly brown

boots this time, and instantlythe butterflies in my stomach

were killed by the talons of the

confident eagle now in my soul.

After dinner, we went back tothat same bar but this time, we

walked in hand-in-hand. Ourentrance not only turned heads,

but also demanded their

applause. We drank, we danced,

and by closing time we were

making out in the corner like

newlyweds.

We continued the honeymoonback at my place and slept un-

til noon the next day. We had a

fancy brunch and both agreed

this was the start of something

very special. After all, it was toocomfortable to deny the stars of

our fateful companionship.

Months went by and the hourglass of our relationship was

turned over and over and overagain. We grew so comfortable

around each other that it

seemed like we had always

been there for one another. So

comfortable that I no longer felt

butterflies around her and nolonger felt the need to impressher with my undivided atten-

tion. In retrospect, maybe we

were a little too comfortable.

We soon began to go hours,then days without seeing each

other. The texts dwindled downto only a few words here and

there, and our conversations

grew shorter as our passion

turned to routine hanging out

with a little cuddling on the

side.

I simply sat there and smiled, trying to commit tomemory every little detail of her story, about how

she got them from her sister, but that she doesn'tnormally wear brown, and wasn't sure if they

were even appropriate for the bar we occupied.

We talked for hours and the conversation becamemore in-depth as the night progressed. I gained

confidence by the minute and felt more relaxed by

each libation I consumed. The tables had changed

and now she began to seem like she might be the

intimidated one.

They eventually played the clich song ClosingTime and we took it as our cue to vacate the

premises. We exchanged numbers and a very

endearing hug. Then she jumped in the cab with

her friends and left me on the curb to breathe in

the taxi's exhaust. Wow..I was in love.

Over the course of the next week my thumbsgrew sore and calloused. She and I were sending

no less than a hundred texts a day to each other.

When the night of our dinner date finally came

around, I began to get butterflies again. I began to

doubt myself, again. You got this, I said to myself

in the mirror.

We met at the restaurant and she was wearing

Together Forever oil on canvas

The traits about her I thought were soadorable in the beginning soon began

to wear on my nerves. The woman thatwalked into my life and commanded so

much desire from my soul now

annoyed me to no end. Her voice, her

laugh, her fucking brown boots! It a ll

made me feel sick when she was near.

We eventually broke up one nightover drinks and the conversationneeded only a look to get the point

across. We had both felt it coming like a

barometric pressure change before a

storm for weeks.

It was over...the stars had betrayed us,and my bed was definitely warmer

without her in it. At first I was mad,then sad, then I was glad she was gone.

I didn't need her to be happy. I felt like

a huge weight had been lifted off my

shoulders.

That is, until she showed up at mybar, a week later with her new dude,wearing those damn boots and laugh-

ing at all his stupid-secret jokes he was

whispering in her ear.

God, I hate her laugh. What was sofunny anyways? Were they laughing at

my demise? Or did she just forget that I

had a soul and could still hear her?

When she finally introduced us, I didmy best to pretend it didn't bother me.

I honestly acted like I was happy forthem. They were a cute couple, after all.

I just finished my drink, paid my tab,and quietly sulked my way out to the

curb. Not even sitting in my little crackwithin the rock could bring me comfort

now. The cab pulled up with its cloud of

smog. I climbed in, then brushed the

imaginary dirt off my shoulders and

said, Yo holmes, to Bel Air!

PrimalityBy Dori Cameron

Subtlety is insanity.I am the object of attention

But not affection.So...Ive tasted the sweet fruitThat turned me into god.It wasnt what I thought it would be.Why werent I born a tiger or a bird?Then I would have little

Responsibilities or inadequacies.My stare, once vivacious, has escapedAnd I cannot find it,Not even in a mirror.I wish I could roar,Then someone would listen,Even if only in fear. If I had aSong to sing, males wouldShow off their colors andFight for my company.How is it, that I am

Hateful of my own species?My impatience consumes me,Even more thanPride or Wrath, myFavorite deadly sins.If I were a siren I would never die,And my existence would beOf epic proportions. I want toEscape myself, and perhaps fly

South forever.

Billy Reynolds


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by Kathryn Cord

Kate Doggs Kitchen Its All Gravy

Untitled ComfortPhotography by

Ahhhh Fall...the best season has arrived.The deep blue skies, the crisp air, cozy

sweaters, hot chocolate (maybe with a

splash of Peppermint Schnapps). When

the nights are longer and the weather is

starting to get chilly, nothing says

"comfort" like a scoop of mashed pota-

toes with lots of gravy.

When I stopped eating meat in 2000,I had to learn to cook for myself. I

experimented with lots of recipes until I

came up with this: the perfect vegan

gravy. Now, I can enjoy my favorite

comfort food again. Trust me, Veggies

and Omnis alike will devour it.

Your Thanksgiving just got that much

better.

Nick BahulaLike this photograph? Follow this artist for

more than just great shots! He also creates

his own prints on wood and leaves free art

around Riverside, CA. Follow @bahula onInstagram to get in on the free finds!

Let it simmer two more minutes. Salt and pepper to taste. Some stock is saltier thanothers so definitely taste as you go. If you want smooth gravy (of course you do) use

an immersion blender and blend til smooth. If you don't have an immersion

blender you can use a food processor or a regular ol blender. Blend in small

batches and be careful not to burn your hands off. Viola! Gravy that would make

your mama proud.

***If youve never cooked with nutritional yeast before, please dont be intimidated

by its weird name. It lends a depth of flavor to the gravy that shouldnt be missed.

Its easy to find at your local grocery store and its a great source of vitamin B12.Boom. Vitamins in yo gravy! Now its healthy, right?

Mushroom Gravy1 small yellow onion, diced fine

2 cups of cremini mushrooms, diced3 cloves of garlic, crushed

2 cups of vegetable stock

1/3 cup of flour

2 tablespoons of nutritional yeast**

1 teaspoon of sage

2 tablespoons of olive oil

salt and pepper to taste

Heat the olive oil in a sauce pan overmedium heat. Then add the onionsand garlic and saute until soft, stir-

ring constantly. This will take about

three minutes. Then add the mush-

rooms and cook until soft. (about five

minutes) Add the flour, nutritional

yeast, and sage. Keep on stirring.

Slowly whisk in the vegetable stock.

Life Lessons with Jay and McCoolby Jay Smolchuck and Kevin McCool

Hey guys, were Jay Dot CA & Kevin McCool.Were not the oldest guys around, nor the

youngest but we have been around the blocka time or two and we've learned some thingsalong the way. Now we don't know every-thing, but when it comes to the basics in life,we've had plenty of experience getting in andout of situations or just flat out avoiding themall together.Whether its about STRAPPED zines monthly

topic, past or present, or life in general, we'llgive you our opinions, rants, and overall out-look on life, yours and ours alike. Feel free toask us questions, tell stories/jokes, make com-ments, talk trash, or just be downright rude.We'll have a ton of answers for you, probablynot all of them, but like a woman, we'll just fake it! Well respond with nothing butextra classy info and news you can use. Our street knowledge of 30+ years com-bined will guide you through life with ease...maybe not, but at least you will havegood stories to tell around the campfire. Lets have at it & have fun! As with life,

don't take us too seriously, 'cause we don't!This months topic takes us into the world of comfort and discomfort. For us, thatline gets blurred, combined, smashed & erased all in a single night. Were not thekind of guys that avoid situations just because its uncomfortable. Well jump right

Ask these guys ANYTHING!

[email protected]


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in and see if we can smooth it out andhave some fun with it. This also holdstrue for the opposite; we can take aperfectly normal, comfortable eveningand flip it on its head and create morediscomfort than a scorching case ofherpes!

Your levels of comfort and discomfortare dictated by how you handle thesituation in front of you, making sure itdoesnt overtake your emotions. We

dont let that happen and neither

should you. Keep calm and do as wedo: make the best any given situation.

Heres a scenario: lets say youre at

the bar/club with your friends on theother side of town, you all rode in to-gether to make sure there was a desig-nated driver & save on gas. Every-bodys smiling, laughing, drinking, and

trading stories. Perfect right? This ispure comfort, but not where this talewas headed. Toward the end of theevening, you meet up with some niceladies that invite you and your buddyback to their hotel room. Youre a bit

tipsy but, this seems like a fantasticidea & you go for it. Youre still in your

comfort zone, so you all pile into the near-est cab and call your other friends to tellthem to not wait up. When you arrive atyour destination, you realize the hotel is

nothing more than a dingy motor lodge.Uh oh, what have you gotten yourselfinto?! Discomfort sets in...now what? Makethe best of whats left the night, of course!

The next morning you wake up hungover,in a room youve never seen before in yourlife, next to women you dont know, and

no way to get back home to meet yourobligations of the day. Discomfort, onceagain, has set in like a case of the bubbleguts on a hot day while stuck in traffic.

Dont sweat it! Be calm and calculate yournext move, which at this time of morningshould be to take a quick video or pictureof the mess youre in and hightail it to thenearest diner for some coffee, get thehamster back on the wheel, and a sweetass plate of pancakes & bacon (extracrispy, of course. ) This is where you planthe remainder of your getaway. Catch acab, bus, train, or in our case, call one ofyour four best friends that anyone couldhave to come pick your dumb ass up.

Great, the plan is set, your belly is full, and

youre ready to take on a new day. Com-fort at its finest!! The disclaimer of this taleis there are many other factors to makethis scenario work without a hitch, confi-dence, loyalty, trust, and most impor-tantly, friendships that encompass all ofthese qualities, but thats for another

months discussion.

Be sure to email your questions,comments, and rants to:

[email protected] well besure to educate and entertain becausethats how we roll!!!

From the Depression series

photography byPaul Miser Werkmeister

by Dori Cameron

or six days straight, there were

nightmares. I woke up with alarms

blaring, an evacuation of the city

ensued. Confused, I dressed myself

Expiration photography by Dori Cameron>

and wandered out of my open front door. Fires and sirens pierced through me, quivering. Then, I

saw them. With white masks and a troubled gait, I had to become one of them. I spotted one, fallen,

cheaply made yet priceless, slipping it onto my face. My skin remembered the hot feel of plastic, a

Halloween costume from nearly a score ago. Darting, my eyes followed and mimicked the walk ofanother, disjointed and awkward. Others without masks were swept up quickly, ignited by a quick

scream, their feet grabbed so quickly they fell twice as fast. This was the sixth night.

n the seventh night, I surrendered. A heap of exhaustion and sadness, I had my talk with God. I

let go. I pleaded, No dreams tonight. Please. I need to rest. I cant handle another. Defeated, my

head hit the pillow once more, expecting the same outcome of the previous nights. The running from

zombies, the car accidents, the chaos. The insanity.

uddenly, I am heading into a familiar place. It was abandoned, but it was ours. I knew what to

expect inside. The crunching of tiny shards of broken glass, the sharp sense of rusted metal, the hol-

lowed out windows.the shadows, the light fixtures hanging from tall ceilings. The waffled stairways,

the offices with walls broken out, drywall caking and dusted into piles. The toilets, shattered. The

porcelain faucets, dry and decimated. The spray paint, poorly executed. The stub-end railroad

tracks. There was history here, history I always pondered, fascinating, unknowable. Comforted, I

walked inside.

emarkably, the factory was alive. The walls were intact in vivid colorthe machines blackened but

not rustedthe conveyors moving parts at a steady pace. The workers in white hard hats blowing

sparks upward, a vibrant heat to them. The steam engine parked in the tracks, unloading. The time

card clock, ticking. The metal slots with operation cards, a bright green. The grinding of metal, the

loud shouts over humming machinery. The unexplainable relief of not having a nightmare, but anewfound understanding of a place I hold so dear. On the seventh night I talked to God. And He

listened.


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by Victor Estrada

Wondering who the manon the television is?Scan here to view themystery for yourself!

We Now Interrupt This Program...SKEREEREEEEEEEEEEEREEEEEEEEEE!

My eyes groggily arouse themselves from slumber...how long have I been sleeping? What

time is it? Whats that noise? The light emitted from the televisions tube hit my corneas in blinding burst

of white noise, beating down on my retinas like John Bonham 15 minutes into a Moby Dick drum solo.

My irises begin to come alive and focus the white halo in front of me into something that begins to

resemble an image. That does itHes a frickin nerd.hehehehe...

The words crawl their way out of the televisions tiny speaker metallic and distorted, threaten-

ing to rip apart the tiny cardboard cones and ooze themselves onto the floor like freshly hatched spiders

from an egg sac.

There is a man on the television.

Hes hiding behind a mask. The background sways and tilts with a hypnotic pulse, making my

stomach uneasy. The voice worms its way into my ears again, threatening to rip my sanity away from its

mooring. Catch the wave...

It is screaming now. Its voice swarms at me like a hive of angry bees, loud and overbearing.

The figure is crowding the screen now,

swaying and bobbing like an angry jack-in-the-

box. I wont realize until afterwards but my

skin has developed a thin layer of cold sweat,

my cerebellum unconsciously reacting to the

blitz on the screen. Your love is fading...

The background continues to lurch back

and forth in uneven time. My equilibrium is

slipping from me. The room starts to oscillate,

the walls shifting into a nauseous blur. The

figure continues to bounce around the screen,

its voice weaving in and out, like screams

coming from an eaten tape. Theyre coming to

get meee

I dont see the rest. Im already down the

hall, my stomach ready to vacate its contents.

When did I get up?

allingTowardsTrust

by Caitsarella

Did you know that bald eagles

mate for life? Their mating ritual is one of

the most amazing rituals in nature. The

eagles soar separately up to the highest

point of their territory and then they circle

Your Blood Is My Comfortoil on canvasby Elizabeth Pallack

strapped zine - volume i issue ii

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