OC PULP ZINE Volume 1
A compilation of works in various artistic mediums submitted by Orange County-based creatives. Open theme — 2023
Assembled and curated by Chantal Elise
"Orange Trees"
"You May Be An Artist" (2023) Mixed Media
Poem about the Brief history of Orange County by Wes Blake
(2023)
"Sweetest Duo" (2023)
Digital fan art of Custard and Pupcake from Strawberry Shortcake
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"Sunset" (2023) Digital
"Backyard Boi" (2023) Digital
Their citrus aroma
Fills the air
With such sweet satisfaction
That it takes me back
To another time
That I never knew
Where the trees grew high
And the groves spread out wide
And where the blossoms bloomed white
As the orange trees loom over
I’m taken back
To an era lost in time
And only told through stories
From those who were there
And saw the fields of orange
Before the houses moved in
Before buildings rose high
Before an empire was born
In the orange groves of Orange County
As I roam freely
Through the little orange grove
I’m lost in a forest of citrus serenity
Surrounded by endless orange blossoms
Carrying the familiar scent
From yesterday’s past
Oh how I wish I could go back
To those days long forgotten
Before it all came to an end
In the orange groves of Orange County
The golden sunlight
Shines through the orange trees
In this little orange grove
That still stands proudly today
That still shines brightly in the sun
It’s a reminder of what once was
Before the fields disappeared
And before civilization took over
It’s a memory of what once stood
Before time changed forever
It’s a memory that will never die
That still grows and lives on today
In the orange groves of Orange County
"Caution: El DUI" "Precaución: El DUI"
Latinx drivers make up half of all DUI arrests in California. One of the leasing causes of ICE interior arrests are due to DUI arrests and convictions.
"Cuando vuelve papá?"
(When is Daddy Coming Back?)
Eduardo Martinez
“Pouring Red” Oil on Canvas (2023)
“Poison that Burns” Oil on Canvas (2023)
“Open Spring” Watercolor (2023)
This poem was inspired by a question posed by physicist Richard Feynman to a lecture hall in 1961. In his lecture, he asked "If, in some cataclysm, all of scientific knowledge were to be destroyed, and only one sentence was passed on to the next generation of creatures, what statement would contain the most information in the fewest words?" It was written as a syncopated sonnet, a form innovated by Pulitzer-winning poet Tyehimba Jess, in his book Olio. The poem can be read across from left to write, or down each exterior column, sharing the lines in the middle.
KOOMASAE
2 Short Stories, and a Poem by Reggie Peralta
"Auto"
(2022)
As he walked down the street, he watched the people passing by. All his life, he felt like he didn’t belong. Like he was a cog trying to fit in a machine he wasn’t made for.
But as he watched the people passing by, he noticed things about them. Little things, but things no less. He noticed that they only talked in loops, loops of things other people had said. But they couldn’t replicate the original speaker’s voice, so they only came across as a faint echo of what was originally said.
This is why some people can talk without saying anything.
And he noticed the way they reacted to the world around them. The way they operated within carefully programmed parameters and calibrated their responses according to certain specifications, all drawn up by minds both greater and lesser than their own.
This is why some people have never had an interesting thought their entire life.
And he noticed that they’d crash into walls or even each other, but instead of trying to find a way around they’d keep running into the obstacle in front of them. Their programming would initiate frustration subroutines and sometimes their emergency hydro-ducts would activate and moisten their glass eyes, but they would never think to try a course of action different from the one they were already doing.
This is why some people never learn.
And he realized that he wasn’t a cog trying to fit in a machine at all. He was a human trying to pass himself off as an automaton. And perhaps if he was lucky, he might be able to fool them.
_________________________
“Dazing Desert”
(2021)
Amidst the crowd
She keeps to herself
Like a vintage bottle
On a cellar shelf
She has a story to tell
Of love, life, and decisions
But the crowd drowns her out
And it goes unheard
Because they can't be bothered
To so much as listen
She's like a desert
Dark and dry
Yet full of life
A dazing desert
Tempting travelers to plunge
Deep into the night
Her eyes are soft
Her face is kind
But her quiet reserve
Is utterly sublime
Hiding her thoughts
Hiding her ideas
She resigns to her fate
And sits unnaturally still
As the crowd roars
And revels in their disorder
But her silence says more
Than any of them ever will
She's like a desert
Dark and dry
Yet full of life
A dazing desert
Tempting travelers to plunge
Deep into the night
At long last, a stranger
A fellow traveler of the mind
Joins the crowd and sees
The story in her eyes
Looking at him,
Looking into him,
She stops to think
And when she's done
She lets a soft smile
Spread cross her face
As she asks herself
Is he the one?
She's like a desert
Dark and dry
Yet full of life
A dazing desert
Waiting for a stranger
To shine a light
"The Art Contest"
(2022)
C.J. Mortimer considered the two characters in front of him. He did so carefully, because whichever he picked would be the face of Mortimer Studios for the foreseeable future.
One, a mouse with pink eyes and a blue bowtie, looked like it had been made in a day. The other, a cat with brown fur, a red tie, and a plaid jacket, looked like it had taken weeks, maybe even a month, to do.
There was something about this one that spoke to him on a deep, instinctual level, although he wasn’t quite sure what. Perhaps it was the posture of the cat, slightly hunched forward with one arm forward as if it carried the weight of the world on its shoulders. Maybe it was the expression on the cat’s face, weary but projecting a certain sense of silent determination. Or maybe it was its eyes, yellow, bright, yet somehow human. And for a moment, C.J. Mortimer felt as if he was looking into the very essence of his own existence.
But, he picked the other one because he liked the shade of blue that the artist used for the mouse’s bowtie.
____________________________
Rosalie Marsh
"Green Lady in Chair" Oil (2022)
"Parisian Lady" Mixed Media (2022)
"China Princess" Oil (2022)
"Atua Wāhine - The Divine Feminine" Digital (2022)
"Fri-Dom" Digital (2021)
Noell Ratapu
"Tentacles of Self-Deception" Digital (2022)
"When the Winds Shift"
Animated Short by @gadzooks_bazooka (2015)
Mary Rose
"Fried" — Digital (2022)
"ACERBIC"
I somehow have three souls close to me
Who subsist on divisive citrus discrimination.
One hates orange, likes lime, loves lemon
One loves orange, hates lime, loves lemon
One is orange uncertain, likes lime, hates lemon—
As anyone can see, a pure pulpy catastrophe.
No mnemonic alchemy,
No conceivable kind of mental sorcery
Can keep this esoteric combination clean for me; anaphylactically
I stiffen at cafes, by the pantry, mid-verse in Christmas carols,
Seized by what sweetness of mine could prove sinful.
Which lotion I found is least likely to offend her?
Is he the one who will like this tropical seltzer,
Or fuck, is that her?
No tea, protein bar, place, action, soul-state is sacrosanct.
Give the wrong one lemon bliss balls and they may as well be dog piss;
With a margarita kiss, I'm instantaneously remiss.
No matter the offering, faith in me is squeezed dry;
If I can't remember he likes these Skittles, not this Starburst,
This is a scathing moral failing of the highest degree
Punishable by decree, no ambiguous certainty.
Infusing some humor to right egregious wrongs,
I once said, "We live in Orange County, for fuck's sake,"
But it didn't leave any impression beyond
A glare that beat my conscience to a pulp,
My citrus trespass the nail in the coffin, the knife in the rind,
Another jab at the sweetness I'm unlikely to find.
I Come To You In Shreds
(2022)
I come to you in shreds but still I come to you:
throat brittle like a tree branch
in the middle of a storm,
words cracking open and spilling
all the things there aren’t
words for,
eyes on the carpet instead of on yours
__________________
My Father Holds A Baby
(2022)
My father holds a baby
like one might hold a bomb —
nervously thrilled by the novelty —
scared to death by its fragility —
ready to drop the thing and run
Excerpt from "Atoms & Giants" photo series by Lola Olvera
Jessica McNeil
"Ladybug"
(2022) watercolor and colored pencil
Untitled
(2020) watercolor
"Yogi"
(2019) Acrylic
"Exodus"
My mother pushed me in a stroller,
now I push her.
No one will push me.
This is a sphinx's riddle
left unanswered by the grace of life!
I pray to the shadows of the pastors,
I wave to the grandmas scaling trees,
I say yes to the devil in the clouds,
and wait for a basket in the river
large enough to carry me.
3
poems
by
Sanbud Tehrani
(2023)
"Sandstorm"
The raindrops flew up first,
against the grain of gravity.
They that had delayed decay
racing back towards the sky that day,
then the amber frozen tamed
melted out among ice capped plains again
and every sabre toothed
sin & swollen sore rose from heaven
as if to beg for more.
Tiny little desert mouse,
shaped like the thoughts
that too rarely left mouths,
shaped like the hearts
that the broom swept out:
find the cave of sublime love and wonder,
if only to escape the mud and thunder,
continue down it if you dare,
see the seams of old lives...
fibrous dreams now
turned foundation there.
"Untitled"
How do you contend with the remainders
of love, the crumbs left behind in
the kitchen by yesterday's cakes.
I remember that I would have died for you, lied for you, we built towers
near the ocean, all while speaking
a single universal language.
I don't remember what that felt like, but I remember feeling it.
It was not just pride, it was something else,
that turned a steak forgotten at the back of the fridge,
that helped the roots of trees speak freely amongst themselves.
But it was pride too.
I remember thinking we had found some great
eternal secret
previously undiscovered in the annals of history...
oh Conquistador I don't know whether to laugh or weep,
so I do both and it feels like
an old familiar pair of shoes.
Jason Lego
"enlightenment was not the end"
Mixed Media on Canvas (2023)
"Squishd Agin"
Mixed Media (2023)
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Arin Priest
"WE DEM KOIS"
(Digital Photograph, 2022)
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"HUNTINGTON"
(Digital Photograph, 2022)
"BALBOA"
(Digital Photograph, 2022)
Shane Robinson
"Worm Wizard"
Watercolor and Pen, 2022
"Amoeba Wizard"
Watercolor and Pen, 2022
Soul on Fire Dance
Photographer Matt Crowe (@tuffy_mcfuklbee)
Soul on Fire celebrated its one-year anniversary with a recital featuring its students dancing burlesque, Bollywood, music video style, bellydance, contemporary and more! Here, Beginning Burlesque students are captured performing El Tango de Roxanne from Moulin Rouge in front of a live audience in Downtown Santa Ana.
Alyx P.
"Best Buds"
(2023) Footage processed through an analog video mixer with a homemade circuit bent fx unit. The processed video was captured and edited digitally into an endlessly looping GIF
Miquela Davis
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"Untitled Artwork", 2019, digital drawing
"You Will Never Work in Television Again", 2022, digital drawing
"Xoloitzcuintli", 2019, digital drawing
Chantal Elise
"CANNIBAL UTOPIA"
(2023) Digital Painting
"Purge(d)"
(2019) Digital Photo of a sculpture I made and then dropped
"Where do You go When You Die? "
