Issue 002 · October 2012

http://clearlystated.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/issue-002-cover1.png Cover by Jayinee Basu

Introduction

In October, the crew of the good ship Clearly Stated grew from 2 to 6.

As these merry mates traded words, a Tumblr was formed.

You can guess where it went from there.

Against I Ran

Written by Josué Rivera on May 10, 2012
Arranged by Rin Alexander Ascher on June 12, 2012

Against I Ran

Walk across,  street dancing, all three sit in a room.

With three walls, sleep days go so slow.  In, around, or near us... after her.
After sun.

"Stop crying..."

After sun,  stop seeing.  "It could happen! Not always like this."

Never saw so alone, come to look at me walk. No one walking all. It was weird.

Save cigarette butts across town for poor.  Girl-pee on Jesus.  Back and forth.
Go, too.

With cigarette butt dancing, withering feeling, I love you.  "Something to say, boy." Took beauty queen, giving pills across town, "Hiding," you said.

I used to be happy.  Listen to her breathing, feel nothing.  See nothing.

On the bed she smiles. To know her I lost my tooth here.

Not there to see her, not see her at all. Sit. Listen.

For sound, it's cold.  You're not here.  I want to sleep for you. Open, see.

Inside, almost gone.

(i'm lazy wow what a great idea for a movie)

It's Ben

Written by Ian Aleksander Adams on October 5, 2012
Arranged by Jayinee Basu on October 20, 2012

It's Ben.

So long!
It's been so long,
I'm supposed to be doing
other things but it's been so long
and this is a thing,
this is a thing too, little birdy!
(on track)

She says, "Keep on!"
(the track the track!)
(don't go manic)
(don't go away)
(again, don't type so fast)

You lose track,
marks track races
track at
tack a terrible
track record.

[a bad poem :(]

It's Funny

Written by Jayinee Basu on October 24, 2012
Arranged by Ian Aleksander Adams on October 24, 2012

It's funny when I consider those moments that stick out.

Most like my mom (telling me), "You know, it's funny when I consider those moments that stick out most."

Like my uncle (telling me about all the garbage in the world), "Someone has to pick up all the garbage in the world."

Now I think about his mouth (saying those words), whenever.

I see garbage and I realize that my mom is the one.

Who picks up the most garbage of anyone I know?

And I wonder what relative I will talk about.

Garbage to and that.

Makes me a little unhappy.

Oh Yeah My Reading Glasses

Written by Priscilla on October 24, 2012
Arranged by Jayinee Basu on October 24, 2012

"Oh yeah, my reading glasses.."
"Do you still have my address? Go to my place."
"And sneak in through the window?"
"...and mail me my collared shirts."
"If not, in suitcases then...?"
"In some pile: black shoes."
"Green socks?"
"Green and pink under."
"Wears my prize possessions?"
"I will mail you a check for 100 dollars IF you beat person."
"To the punch!"
"Ch...an."
"Ces are all my stuff?"
"Has already been lifted?"
"O, hyes, in 'the closet.' There is a suit!"
"Keep it, worth 400."
"If?"
"You: keep the suit."
"I don't..."
"Mail you a fucking check, leave."
"The dead  (to the dead): rejoice!"
"You are alive. Now you see."
"Why, I never wanted 2."
"B close."
"Goodbye, gorgeous!"
"Sociopath."

Spilling Curry

Written by Ian Aleksander Adams on October 24, 2012
Arranged by Jayinee Basu on October 24, 2012

 spilling curry on my white pants

 spilling curry on my white pants
  spilling curry on my white pant
s  spilling curry on my white pan
ts  spilling curry on my white pa
nts  spilling curry on my white p
ants  spilling curry on my white
pants  spilling curry on my white
 pants  spilling curry on my whit
e pants  spilling curry on my whi
te pants  spilling curry on my wh
ite pants  spilling curry on my w
hite pants  spilling curry on my
white pants  spilling curry on my
 white pants  spilling curry on m
y white pants  spilling curry on
my white pants.

Fuck

Written by Jayinee Basu on October 24, 2012
Arranged by Priscilla on October 24, 2012

fuck
shit, this is
crazy: what to do
in a situation.
where?
moving to either side !
"...requires a shit ton of swimming..."
knowledge, I, me
an "at least"
floating knowledge (those plastic)
o range floaties only
hold your arms up!
Once.
I threw a rubber.
Rabbit (into the pool and plunged in after it hoping that my desperation would)
magically
imbue
me (with swimming but no no thats not how)
it works...
I ALMOST.
Di ed that
day as a six year old?
any way fuck this shit, really.
Though I don't.
Want to be a...
Hamlet?
Stuck in between a rock and another.
Slightly!
More menacing!
Rock! (but the FIRST rock)
is slippery so what do I, do you?
Know? I...GUESS.
Its ok to let, things come to you
in waves
sine waves
cosine waves
sound waves wave
hello, I guess!
Love is.
Ok! for now, if it waves goodbye, later then!
so what?
I guess. Only.
thing (todo is plunge in) after
It: hoping

Fish Makes His Way

Written by Rin Alexander Ascher on October 27, 2012
Arranged by Chris Barker on October 27, 2012

fish makes his way outside,
slowly,

but once he is there it is
sunny,

just the way he likes it,
today.

the neighborhood children are
screaming!!!
their stupid little faces off as usual.

bloody knees

puppy dogs

horror and delight are the same,
and fish has to admire that level of dedication to
"self expression"

he is trying to be
mindful
today,
and as he walks to the chicken shack,
he looks at the little lost leaves on the sidewalk,
all telling similar
stories.

fish
has a favorite chair, and a favorite number, and a favourite meal
at the chicken shack

he has good luck, and gets two out of three
today.

some old man
with a face like a dried up apple is
sitting!!!
in fish's favorite chair,
staring
off into space with a chicken sandwich in front of him.

fish eats his chicken meal in a
different
seat by a
different
window,
and watches the cars go by he
eats
with one hand
and counts
and recounts
his change in his pocket
with the other,
without looking.

he has
sixty five cents
which is a really nice amount of change to count and recount.

there is some graffiti on a billboard in the
distance
reclaiming cultural airwaves and
shouting!!!
some defiance at a faceless decider of images,
to be safely consumed by the public.

it looks like
a muffin
but it is probably not
a muffin.

fish counts and recounts
sixty five cents
and looks casually at the old man in his favourite seat
and knows
he is enjoying it!!!
because he has peacefully fallen asleep
snoring
quietly
spilling his french fries all over the table.

Nearing

Written by Ian Aleksander Adams on December 24, 2007
Arranged by Rin Alexander Ascher on October 27, 2012

"....Nearing."

I heard him urge me on. My subconscious responded (if you really want to help.)

"You could throw me some shoes?" I didn't mean to 'confront' him. "I followed... I'm sorry!  I... just!"

You're watching me. And he replied, as if coaxing a stray cat.

I watched you fall out of your mother.

I watched as you peed in my face.

I reached the door and my spinal column spewed. "Move... please, move."  And, I slid past.

Into the house, and past my sister, without shoes, up.

The stairs: peeling off my clothes and collapsing on the floor of the bathroom.  Door shut behind me, down the stairs.

The rest of the clan held conference.  I turned the water.  On and slid.  In letting it fall, on my head (and back), as I tried to rub feeling into my extremities.

"Every time I put them under the water they burned.  That hot cold distant burn."

I let out a couple, dry.