Letters from Bummer Camp Vol. 1

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inaugural publication of Letters From Bummer Camp Press & Distro. a scrappy lit mag containing art and writing from 18 different contributors, 9 of which are Rutgers alumni or members of the New Brunswick community.

Transcript of Letters from Bummer Camp Vol. 1


    Volume 1

  • 1

    letters from bummer camp

    press & distro

    est. 2014



    I was driving devin home from work one night in early june when I blurted out, I was on tour with free cake for every creature a week later selling my own zines out of a shoe box that slowly fell apart over the course of three weeks, eight states, eleven shows, and two zine fests. I was overwhelmed with the whirlwind of realization that people like my shit. I was consistently inspired by everyone I met on tour, including the people I was with. I continued riding out those good vibes when I got home and promptly started setting things up. Thanks to the Internet dot com, interest started pouring in immediately and people reached out about standalone art and writing pieces. Without thinking twice I came to the decision of making a compilation zine to put out with the distros launch, which would take place less than two months later. Things moved way faster than I expected and I couldnt be happier about it. I fully anticipate putting out more compilation zines like this in the future. In the meantime, enjoy volume one. It includes many of my favorite poets that I am lucky enough to call my friends, some writers that are new to me, and even some artists from overseas. I cant believe how tired I am. Remember that self-publishing is always an option. I love you. -alyssa august 2014 new brunswick, nj


  • dedicated to

    this entire gay earth


  • I was awakening so early this morning so quite sorta.. slowly and I turn on you, the laptop reaching on the left side of your head while running thru a stop sign im so sorry i have hit your pedestrian mommy earth on this raining mourning, running, wet morning ah yet ah and yet i have slowed down since then



  • MK RIX


  • 5

    You have Saturn on your Ass Im riding along Saturns belt and Ive never felt so lonely. Saturn looks beautiful as hell, though. I hate that combination of words, as hell, but it reminds me of you. You would say that after everything: Im tired as hell. Im hungry as hell. Im horny as hell. Youre boring as hell. As hell, as hell, as hell. Im feeling nostalgic as hell. I dont understand why I decided to take this trip. I mean, I love space; I love space more than myself. But I love you more than I love space. And this trip is getting lonelier by the second. Having you by my side would make this trip completely bearable, even though you hated it when I would talk about astronomy in any way. That shit is boring as hell, now shut up and kiss me. There is nothing out there! There is no point in thinking about it. Can you stop talking about this?! No one is ever going to find out everythi- oh, this is my favorite part, shh! You were such a little ignorant shit. But I loved you. And now, Im 830.1 million miles from Earth, and 830.1 million miles from you and from real food, and from my bed, and from my book collection, and from the comfortable sweats I forgot to pack, and from you. I havent thought about you until now! Until I reached Saturn because through all your hate for the universe and astronomy, you still had Saturns outline tattooed on your ass.



  • Although you were only sixteen, and at your ex-boyfriends house, and told his homie to do whatever he wanted, but make it rad, and it was the newest thing he learned so he decided to perfect it on your bare body, on your bare ass it was still there. I would stare at it every night and fall even more in love. Even though it was a mistake and meant absolutely nothing to you, you still had it. Just like I meant nothing to my father, I was still his son and he still had me. And like your first goldfish meant nothing to you, but you specifically chose it as your first pet but after the first three days you stopped feeding it, and forgot about it, and on the seventh day you watched it float to the top, it was still there and you still had it. Just like your first tattoo. The outline of Saturn on your bare ass. You became that tattoo. That planet. You pulled me in, but never completely. You had me wrapped around you, following you with no choice. For eternity. You had no end. I could never land on you. I could never figure you out completely. And Im grateful for that. Because I love you, and I only know so much about you. If I knew more, there is a possibility of me hating you. You are an asshole, and you leave lipstick on all my mugs. You call me an idiot every time I compliment you in any way, and your perfume gives me headaches. You used to call my dog ugly even though I thought she was the most beautiful creature in the world and made me happiest. You make me sad. You put me down. You hate space! You hate space. And I love it more than myself. And I am glad I am 830.1 million miles away from you. You hate space and I love it and Im so happy to be here right now, right next to Saturns belt. I love it. Im so happy, I could just walk out and be pulled into its gravity. I could just walk out





    She was a tiny prawn in an enormous dazzling light box. Looking down at her hands she saw disproportionate claws coming from her wrists and Pips skip, like a tiny gem clutched between the tips of her talons. The device was a precious thing. She was sure it would allow her to do a spell and get her the hell out of there. Temi pushed some coloured squares across the screen. The light around her pulsated. She flung open the door of her box, still feeling quite prawny and grabbed Pip. His eyes were glazed. As soon as he saw the skip he jumped to attention yelling at her. Pip noticed the air around them shifting. Grabbing the device, he tried to reverse the code Temi had just set into motion. Pips carefully constructed world was gone.


  • Pip speaks

    Temis user experience was way different to mine. The skip knew it. I dont think shed ever even touched one before, it wasnt used to her style. Everyone has a different style led by their own individual experiences and desires. Well, hers was different to mine. It sent us to a warehouse full of mirrors. Id never asked it to take me there before. Usually if it doesnt recognise a code, it re-sets. Temi was looking at herself in the mirror her features growing wider as time passed. The oil had destroyed her clothes. I didnt have anything back at my place to offer her. Plus shed nicked my device pretty much before I could do anything to help. Temi was almost crying. I wanted the forest.


  • Right before she had the chance to get into the swing of her full-blown bawl fest, the mirrors turned to strip lights. Our reflections became vacuum wrapped packs of dead meat. It was all lined up neatly in front of the neon lighting, shining so brightly it turned each slab of flank into a bloody red light bulb. Up the road Temi didnt get there until way after dark. The neon town had glowed around them. Lights from the windows turned the snow pink and yellow and blue. After she and Pip had left the meat rooms solitary luminescence behind them, they had to walk down a narrow lane. Their hands were invisible an inch from their eyes but they could see the rays of the moon on the snow about a mile away if they looked to either side.


  • Straight ahead of them, though was just darkness. They had to stumble into it to get to the city. About half way down the lane they were headed towards a rise in the road. Just as they started to climb it three rings of light slashing through the night startled them. Pip yelled and began changing the code on his device again. Following the rings came a car, headlights on full beam. Temi screamed now. When the car sped past them, Pip vanished.




  • 13


    Mental Faculties I see the shadows of someones feet under the door while sitting on the toilet in a Starbucks bathroom that Ill probably never pee in again. I keep thinking of every little place I visit on this trip in those terms. Its pretty morbid. Though Ive certainly had enough Wow Im glad Im alive for this right now moments to keep me from thinking about death for a while. A sad, strange part of me thinks of my mom when I hear flip-flop footsteps steadily approaching. Katie is walking around the library in stocking feet. Everything is very silly. I remember being 8 and using my own disposable camera for the first time and crying when most of the photos didnt develop, I didnt use the flash. It happens again. I never give up taking pictures because Im a sap. I keep thinking about being an adult and going to the drug store and how do you get the film out? I keep thinking about that. I still get a nervous sharp pain in my chest when I see someone use a camera without its flash. The pictures wont come out, I say. They dont care that much. Spencer Madsen wrote something about still feeling bad about something you did when you were six and I want the fictional ghosts that Im so afraid of to suck every bad memory out of my soul while I sleep on a strangers floor in the middle of American paradise. I am not scared of the mouse we saw in the kitchen. I am scared of guilt and romanticism and sour retrospection.


  • 14

    I notice a missed call when I pick up my phone to they are playing Bright Eyes in this Starbucks right now I send it without allowing response to why am I a better writer when Im far from home?