Alien Audio

Disintegrate

Cover Art by Callan Berry

“Self Traces”

By Nick Strobelt

I am afraid of the world, and

it is this fear which keeps me a

whole, discrete unit. When we touch,

I want to let go of the fear which

keeps us separate. It keeps us sepa-

rate when I want us to be one. In

the most lonely corner of my animal

brain, I am afraid of you, even as

the basic need for contact draws me

to you. But I have devised a solu-

tion.

Lay a sheet on your bed, take

me apart, and set the pieces out.

Pick up each one individually, and

see how it works. Bend them, twist

them, squeeze them. Learn their

limits and their capabilities. Find

out where I am functioning properly,

and where I am broken. Isolate the

parts of me which are corrupt or

rotten.

I cannot understand myself, but

perhaps you can. Something is wrong

with me, and I want you to be the

one to find out the answer. It's not

your job, and I hate to ask such a

big favor, but I want to be better

for you. No one else cares enough to

help. If you asked the same of me,

I would not hesitate. I would be

honored. Do I ever make you feel

so special? I hope I do.

Get out a blank notebook and a

pencil, and diagram this exploded,

disassembled version of me. Keep

your drawing around for further ref-

erence and maintenance. I want you

to know me that well. After you've

finished, clean the pieces, scrub

them down, blow out the dust and

grime.

Like a sentence, each of my

words has no purpose on its own. On-

ly in the right order do they make

sense, do they give the fullest

meaning. Please, put me in order,

speak my words, and give me meaning.

Put me back together better.

Better than I was before, I want to

be well-oiled with bolts tightened,

now understood and unafraid. Togeth-

er, we shall perfect me, that I

might better care for you. I will be

glorious and clean and beautiful.

Like you. For you. And then we shall

be one. We shall be you.

The Inspection By Dylan Teague McDonald

Top: Jordan Fox

Bottom: Gavin Fitch

Adam Way

Keith Johnson

Efrain Mojica

Kasha

by Maeve Murphy

Walking into sleep

the veil brushing softly

against bare skin

already damp with

the breath of Lethe.

I have left you

behind.

You, the blanket that

my mother gave me,

the sea glass

I collected, my memories.

Do you talk to Tony about me?

I hope so.

But maybe I’ve spent too long

in A Great Big World

failing to speak.

I hope not.

Megan Tee

Megan Tee

You’re welcome

for introducing you to avocados and guacamole

for driving your truck when you were too drunk

for teaching you how to love and trust again

Thank you

for taking me out for dessert on Mondays

for rescuing me when I needed to escape

for loving me when I felt unlovable

I’m sorry

for sending you across the country

for telling you I was your forever

for breaking your heart

Disintegration By Kristina King

7

Megan Tee

“Even Jesus Wears a Seatbelt”

By Kathy Hoang

Megan Tee

My tether to the earth is the

only thing keeping me from

floating away. Those rusted

links keep doing their job

without thanks, fueled only by

love and trust. Sacral seizures

rack my system, ebbing ever

more than flowing. The trunk of

the tree forces it's way

through, raw and powerful. Car-

nal delights are frozen in the

waters of doubt, lone icebergs

in the energetic sea. From ice

springs fire, blazing with ta-

taurian heat, cleansing all

negativity. The world bends

around the flames, subjugating

all to its glorious will. The

torrid wind shimmers with pow-

er, blowing up a tempest. Eve-

rything falls into the vortex,

whether safely in the eye sur-

rounded by love, Or dashed

against the rocks of the past,

left scarred and alone. The

hurts and the passions dissolve

into the ether, to be balanced

and expressed.

The sounds are exquisite, melo-

dious with a razors edge or

feathers touch. Vibrations are

felt deftly, but the trained

eye can see the truth of their

origins. Nothing escapes it,

nothing defies it, it can ei-

ther look for love or lies.

Lies fuel it until it burns in-

to nothing, leaving fear in its

place. Loves opens it, showing

the allure of the planes, giv-

ing it the strength to go on.

The trek feels as if it has

taken all of time, but the

fruits of the universe lie at

the end. Knowledge and joy flow

freely down the path down the

the tether. The oil slowly runs

down dripping like life's

blood, drawing from universal

love. Balanced and free,

spreading the healing light to

all corners of the earth.

Chakras In

Chains By Jeffrey Bret Myer

Zaria Vetter

Zaria Vetter

Zaria Vetter

DISINTEGRATION by Marijean Withers One day I decided to leave America. I imagine most people planning vacations well

in advance: taking time off from work, buying travel books and perhaps a new dress or

pair of shoes, maybe even finding someone to sublet the apartment to if the trip is

more than a few weeks. I think a lot of people go on vacation to new foreign places to

see the world, to see the sights, to explore and come home with stories. This was part

of the plan for me too, of course. The real reason for leaving America was nestled in

the idea of one solid grand moment: the act of leaving itself. I watched my whole life

fall apart before me in a matter of weeks in Seattle. So one day I bought a ticket to

Europe. I'll spare you the details of my life falling apart, and I'll spare you the de-

tails of my trip so far as, you see, I'm in Paris at the moment, about to venture out

for a mimosa (it's 10am here, about 1am Seattle time) and to see Versailles. I'm spar-

ing the details foremost because within the context here of still being on this long

journey, the details escape me. What I have is only a feeling, and even that will

change in a few minutes. It is a very long journey. I left home over a month ago now

and I still have two months to go before that plane takes me back from Barcelona to the

SEATAC int'l. Four countries so far, three more to go. As I sit outside drinking coffee

and smoking cigarettes in this tiny garden in this gray morning chill of Paris, I real-

ize so much of why travel is important for the soul. The world is bigger than you

think. Obvious or not, this world is gigantic and shocking and most of the world won't

notice when you come and go. I've been a tourist, an observer, a visitor and I've been

something else. At times I've been something almost sinister when I define it, some-

thing that has slipped into the lives of other people. Sometimes the slipping in is in-

nocent and dreamy, but the slipping in leaves marks on these other people, and of

course I've collected a plethora of marks myself. It is easy to see the world from far

away as a simulation, and it is easy to interact with this incomprehensibly new and

foreign place as a simulation of yourself. But it is real. You get a sense that you can

dissolve into the foreign world as an ephemeral part of the ephemeral place. You want

to become a part of the scenery. Unfortunately, you are not traveling as some spectral

being without consequences, without effect. You are part of the bigger picture, every-

thing you do matters. Even when you are gone, the place remains, the mark remains, the

world has changed, and there, just then, it's all already changed again, but it re-

mains. You see people living in these places that are so fantastic for you, the travel-

er to behold, looking at everything you've never seen with the same listless disinter-

est that you yourself see your own home. A sculpture or a painting or a castle or even

a grocery store where the only familiar product sold is Coca Cola; it's all very inter-

esting, amusing, entertaining. Sometimes, however, the best part of it all is being

able to turn to someone and say "hey, look at that," or even better yet, to smile down

at your own hands in your lap and realize, silently, "these are my hands that came all

the way here, with me, and here we are, and there's Trafalgar Square, Blarney Castle,

or another giant gray church and how can I have seen so many giant gray churches and

still be excited about another?" When I left America, I wanted to be missed. And the

most wonderful thing that I have learned so far is that being missed does absolutely

nothing for your human experience. Don't travel for other things, other sights, other

people. Travel for a new perspective. Travel to spend some really long, hard, scary

nights being absolutely alone. Sure, it is cheesy, unapologetically trite, to say that

if you travel "you will find yourself," but I think that you actually might. This is,

as they say, your life. You think "something is missing," and a part of you loves the

feeling of being incomplete. When you travel, when you are alone, you figure out exact-

ly what is "missing." You know what the answer is? Everything. When you're sitting

around wondering what is out there, what you might have, what you might be, all of that

stuff is there, being missed by you. You feel incomplete because you are consciously

separating yourself from everything else. So go get it. Go get the world. It's yours,

it's you, revel, ravish, have your way with it. Parts of life that I never cared for

are some of my new favorite interests (architecture, economics, politics) cities that I

never before knew existed are some of my new favorite places, people that were

just living their lives in much the same fashion that they do, as people do, met me

along my path, in other worlds like Edinburgh, London and Dublin, and I fell in love

with some of them. I used to cling so hard to the idea of security and comfort; I

wanted a plan of what I should do, what I should be, what I should like, and who I

should be with. When every day is blatantly new and blatantly overwhelming, a renewed

sense of the fact that all of life is this way is born in you. London was how it was

when I was there, and three days later it is a completely different place that I am no

longer presently experiencing. What I used to call home, Seattle, seemed dull at

times, so common, so familiar. That wasn't Seattle that I was experiencing, that was

me, projecting. Even something ostensibly familiar is constantly changing, new every

day. I promised I'd write this piece and I wanted to, dearly. I'm afraid it's not the

glorious work of art I intended because, to be perfectly honest, I forgot. Travel will

do that to you. As a last note I might add, it is absolutely guaranteed in life that

you will experience unfathomable depths of heartache. I left America to try to escape

my heartache. Though I must say it is essential to move along and away from things

that cease to suit us as we trot along on our own lives paths, we do not escape heart-

ache. Simply, in moving, in living, we ache each day over this or that, then, another

day comes, and we find new things to ache about. Then, another day comes, and we rec-

ognize this pattern, we get it. This realization does not make the aching any less

painful. The aching remains. At this point, we simply realize we have to deal with it,

so we do. And then we keep moving.

Efrain Mojica

Efrain Mojica

Efrain Mojica

Jordan Quimby

Adam Way

Clockwise from top left: Adam Way,

Skyler Ford, (Skyler singing) & Daniel Chesney

Meet the Co-Editors:

Snuff Redux!

Listen to the Alien Audio Podcast online at

(http://alienaudiopodcast.tumblr.com)

Alien Audio is edited by Brie Ripley.

Each month, Alien Audio features a

podcast interviewing artists behind up

& coming Seattle bands. The podcast is

accompanied by an open-submission zine

with a theme related to the artists.