BONNAROO: Issue 49.2 Action Shots!

We are delighted to present the following photo-set of our latest issue, brought to us filtered through beauty both natural and teeming by Operative Dillon J. Welch, straight out of Manchester, TN and the set of Bonnaroo, where people wear birds like clothes (commentary by none other than the operative himself):

THE KIDS ARE JUST FINE

Got the tent popped, the carpet spread, the canopy hoisted, and the generator up and running in record time. This one’s for sitting back and admiring your own work. This one’s for beer. This one’s for the kids.

WHAT MOST FAIL TO UNDERSTAND UPON INITIAL INSPECTION, ALL AT ONCE BECOMES CLEAR

On the hottest day of the week, it’s okay to drink a glass of lemonade. Here you can see me standing in an actual stance of “being okay with drinking a glass of lemonade.” A curious festival-goer behind me in line said “What does his shirt say?” And then she said “I don’t get it.” And then she said “Oh—I get it now.” She gets it now.

ALWAYS AIM FOR THE OIL DRUMS

The Bonnaroo arch. A symbol of freedom. A symbol of not really knowing where your wallet is, even though you could’ve sworn you left it in the center console in your car, but it wasn’t there the last time you looked. Important to note the exhausted looking horde moving slowly through the serpentine railing formation. Note the grass, trampled and greying. Note the sky, the trees, the oil drum trash can (deftly labeled “Trash!”).

CROSSING THE THRESHOLD

Crossing the Threshold, 2013, Silver gelatin print, 14 x 10 inches

THEODORE

Standing in front of Bonnaroo’s famous “Silent Disco” tent. It is in this tent where a man named Ted wears headphones and dances with an air of sudden and stifling uncertainty. It is there where Ted sways slightly to the left, and then slightly to the right. Ted knows a crowd stands just beyond the railing, silently judging his every quiet, unfortunate movement. It is in this tent where Ted will shed a layer of his skin. He will violently cocoon himself to the tune of some in-house DJ’s twee interpretation of Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream.” He will break free and moth into the wild and untethered night.

Or maybe he’ll get drunk and sing along to “Free Falling” with Tom Petty’s reanimated corpse.

TRADITIONAL CEREMONIAL DRESS

On my way to see Björk wear some kind of endangered bird around her neck like a marvelous heirloom. Bro in the jersey told me Daniel Tosh insulted his forlorn mother. In this picture, Bro is on his way to the craft beer tent to dunk his head in a vat of the heartiest local pilsner.

SOME FLAGS, NO MATTER HOW HIGH YOU HOIST THEM, ARE DESTINED TO BE TORN DOWN

My friend Colton knows all of the words to Jack Johnson’s “Bubble Toes.”

Camera guy (Corey) got annoyed with my constant photo demands. Here you can see me pretending to enjoy the music, while standing still enough to avoid blurry pictures. [Note: I tried to get The Tallest Man on Earth to give a shout out to Safety Pin, but he wasn’t having it. Whatever. The man’s a liar. He’s not even tall. He’s not even short enough for his name to be ironic.]

LIKEWISE, SOME NATURAL STRUCTURES ARE MEANT TO BE TORN DOWN

After a long week of poor decisions and finding oneself perfectly lost in the dark of a field full of drugged-out twenty-somethings, it’s important to reflect on what makes you a person, what makes you tangible. This is a waterfall. It is large and made of water. Beneath it are rocks. Beneath all of us are rocks. Miley Cyrus once swung on a rope swing above this very waterfall. Miley Cyrus knows about the rocks beneath us all.

BLOCKAGE

I ate a cheeseburger from Wendy’s just before this picture. It was beautiful. It made me feel like a wind-torn statue. I think that’s all I want in life: to feel like something solid, immovable. And cheeseburgers from Wendy’s.

*

See you soon.

 

Issue Forty-Nine!! (PART TWO)

We are pleased to present the second gesture of our 49th issue, this time worn by Operative Dillon, who took the piece to Bonnaroo, in Manchester, TN. Later, we will see exactly what he brought back. We submit:

ISSUE FORTY-NINE POINT TWO (7/15/13):

featuring

“Scientific Method”

by James Tadd Adcox

Operative: Dillon J. Welch (Manchester, TN)

About the author: James Tadd Adcox is the author of The Map of the System of Human Knowledge, available here. He lives in Chicago.

About the operative: Dillon J. Welch lives in a hole in New Hampshire. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Fiddleback, Gargoyle, PANK, Hobart & others. He is Poetry Co-Editor for the online quarterly, Swarm. Find him at: ratrapss.tumblr.com.

Empirical Data #1: Issue 49 (Part One) Action Photos!!

We’re just thrilled to present the first grouping of Action Shots from Issue 49, a three-poem series brought to us by James Tadd Adcox. The first piece is worn here by Operative Afra al-Mussawir in Austin, TX (with commentary by the operative!):

The Vehicle AKA the Wheelchair

If you stare at a wheelchair long enough, will it become a small bird?

*

If you stare at a woman in a wheelchair long enough, will she become nameless and comforting?

Ready to Work Out

and

At the Wheelchair Fitness Center

…where the poem sparked an unexpected and bewildering debate as to whether it was really possible for a bird to remain nameless for long. I got a few “Oh, I like that” and “Yeah, I saw that–what’s that all about?” responses.

BBQ #1

*

BBQ #2

*

BBQ #5

Group lunch at the BBQ place after working out. The guy behind the register didn’t see the poem until I turned around to model it for him. His response was: “Yeah, I like that.” The people on line behind me didn’t comment; I think they were too hungry to appreciate The Scientific Method.

Outside Quack’s

I played chess with my friend Victor in this coffee shop, and after he finished squashing me like a bug, I waited outside for my ride home. A café employee bussing tables outside asked me, “So, who won?” I distracted him by pointing out the poem. “I like that,” he said. “About the bird. I like that.” Then he agreed to take a pic featuring the poem and the coffee shop storefront.

Keep Austin Weird

I think sometimes Austinites try too hard.

When I asked the cashier at a department store if he wanted to see the poem on my back, the lady behind me on line piped up. “I read it!” she said. “It’s good,” she assured the cashier.

Outside the Old Toy Joy

It turns out Toy Joy is moving to a downtown location – NOOOOOO!!! I caught them just as they were moving some last items, the hand chairs being the last to get loaded onto to the truck. Total transformation I can handle – even turning into a bird – but moving downtown? I’m gonna miss those chairs. Oh, and the plastic Godzillas in the window display.

Alborz

At the Persian restaurant. I think probably the belly dancer was twirling too fast to catch the poem, but my friend’s cousin took a pic of it for herself. See, I was right: no one can appreciate poetry until after they’ve eaten.

TFB

Breakfast at the Texas French Bread down the block from the old Toy Joy. No one commented on the poem. Adults are not supposed to stare at people in wheelchairs. I wished they would so that I could fly off in a flurry of feathers.*

*No birds were harmed in the making of this photoessay, but brisket was consumed with gusto.