issueissueissueissueissueeditor, design - jacob sanders @jacobsandersar teditor, design - jacob sanders @jacobsandersar t

PHENOMENAPHENOMENA

writing director - jason melton @captainjmoseswriting director - jason melton @captainjmoses

january 2 0 1 52 0 1 52 0 1 52 0 1 52 0 1 52 0 1 52 0 1 52 0 1 52 0 1 5

2 0 1 5

issueissueissue

1 5

editor, design - jacob sanders @jacobsandersar twriting director - jason melton @captainjmoseswriting director - jason melton @captainjmoses

iandensford.com

frankzerilli.com

@weaponsmithy

@frank_zerilli

@lilypadula

@brnkillo

ian densford

frank zerilli

lilypadula.com

@cbernieillo

p12

p4

courtneybernard.net

coverbrnkillustration.com

c o n t r i b u t o r s

lily padula

courtney bernard

andrew brinkman

p6

p5

@jacobsandersart

@captainjmoses

@ryan_humphrey

jacobsandersart.com

jasonmelton.tumblr.com

ryanhumphrey.co.uk

p7

p8-11

p13

jacob sanders

jason melton

ryan humphrey

Andrew Brinkman

Frank Zerilli

Courtney Bernard

Jacob Sanders

8

I am Jason, a known-for-smiling-a-lot depressed stand-up comedian, not to brag, but to establish, that I am in bars nearly every single day. And for a while, drinking to black out.

Not to brag, but to establish things.

Stand-up puts you bars. Alcoholism puts drinks in you.

Like, I don’t think I’m the stereotype: depressed fella. But so much maintenance in life! Too much? Sometimes, my shoe comes untied, and I just stare at it. Like, maybe not?

No, sometimes I’ll think no. I’m not going to

tie my shoe. Not this time.

And sometimes, I fucking won’t tie my shoe.

I’ll leave my shoe untied.

***

2013, December.

I am drunk every day. Because of Christmas, duh. Because of The Big Why. The Big What For.

2014, January.

The dates 1-9, I’m redoing December, the Big

9

How Come, and my birthday is on the 10th.

***

Sometime in 2013, December—it is cold—I walk into a dollar store like no other dollar store. I wanted aluminum foil and socks. And to be honest, I was, in the middle of my life, completely lost.

I was going to make baked potatoes and have dry feet. Just until I felt better.

Honestly, a pretty good plan—in hindsight, the baked-potato-dry-feet method scores 4/5 stars for depression management.

The dollar store—like if a place could sell noise. Shit everywhere, mops, car mats, misc. cables, and religious fanfare. A poster of Scarface next to a poster of Mother Mary.

Junk drawer, the place.

The clerk—old and ambiguously ethnic—followed me around, watching for what caught my attention so he could suggest add-ons.

When I found socks, he suggested underwear. When I found aluminum foil, he suggested I buy a pan.

An old and vaguely ethnic human pop-up.

“I’ll buy a pan when I’m fucking ready to buy a pan.” I didn’t say.

I escaped the clerk down an aisle. Bumped into mostly religious candles. But some of the candles were baffling. They were vaguely Catholic, and some would advertise the capability to stop friends and neighbors from

talking about you behind your back. Some could make you the big bucks. Just light a match and you get the big bucks.

I spotted a candle that said “Double Reversible Action.” It had arrows pointing to each other to make shapes. Like the recycling symbol except not triangles—circles and squares in hippy colors.

I bought it, flippantly thinking: I’ll write a song about this.

Makes no sense.

I’ll write a song about this?

What? Why?

The candle chose me. I was, in the middle of my life, completely lost.

So the candle decided I would buy it.

***

2013, December.

I am drunk every day. Christmas. The Big Why. The Big What For.

With my shoe untied.

2014, January.

Same. Same, but until my birthday on the 10th. Then, I stopped.

***

I find out that a “Double Reversible Action” candle is a witch candle.

And here I was, trying to Bob Dylan this thing into a song. Why sing? I had access to magical powers.

Being a witch is super easy, thank you, Internet. There’s YouTube tutorials and everything.

With these candles, there’s three general purposes: money/fame, love/sex, and truth/balance.

I was/am only interested in love/sex. Of course.

I was so lonely. So lonely!

Listen, I would do this: I would carve the initials of my crushes into these candles. I would coat them in oil and speak incantations. Power words!

Power words like “Black cat! Cauldron! Broomstick!” Not those specific words, but you get it?

I would carve my crush’s initials (multiple usually). BF, EO, JS and a bunch more. (Multiple because it helps the probability.) Please, don’t figure out whose initials those are. It’s embarrassing!

But, at the same time, I would always give the candle an out. I’d carve the initials, and “Or, whatever you think is best. Honestly, I don’t know shit about what’s good for me.”

Help me candle.

***

2013, December.

Drunk. Christmas. Drunk. The Big Why. Drunk. The Big What For. Drunk. Shoes untied.

‘Swimming Pools’ by Kendrick Lamar.

Burning witch candles every day.

“BF, EO, JS” and a bunch more.

“Or whatever you think is best. Honestly, I don’t know shit about what’s good for me.”

2014, January.

Birthday approaching on the 10th.

***

I blacked out for three days in a row.

Happy Birthday!

Blacking out. Hurting people I love. Erasing everything. Blacking out again.

Jan. 10th 2014. It happened a year previous to me writing/admitting this.

BUT, here’s what transpired:

On Jan. 10th 2014, a lot of people said happy birthday to me on Facebook. Who cares!

A person I respect in San Francisco texted me, “A lot of my friends quit drinking and they say they get used to doing stand-up sober in about a year.”

Unsolicited. Telling me to quit drinking? Why?

A person in Chicago told me to my face, “You should quit drinking.”

10

Unsolicited. But respectfully. Out of love. Quit drinking though? It had not occurred to me.

A person in New York messaged me, “You should save up some money and come visit!”

Unsolicited, but that was nice. But, the only way I could save enough money was to strap down and quit drinking.

San Francisco, Chicago, New York.

Three people from different places saying the same thing in one way or another. That’s too spread out.

Too coincidental.

***

2013, December.

Christmas. The Big Why. The Big What For. Shoes untied.

2014, January.

Birthday. Unsolicited messages. SOBRIETY.

2014, February.

By the time, I go to New York, I had dated five different beautiful ladies. In one month. Five!

More than the rest of my life combined—don’t judge!

I was so lonely before. So lonely! And it was over.

Because I carved into wax: “Or whatever you think is best. Honestly, I don’t know shit about

what’s good for me.”

It must have been, right?

Listen, I don’t know shit about anything, but I scored five beautiful ladies in a month.

I’m a witch.

11

Jardley Jean-LouisLily Padula

Ryan Humphrey