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V.25 No.31 | 08/04/2016

Short Fiction

Jones Goes to College, Part One

Jones dug the hell out of that first semester at Coronado Hall. It was awesome, even if there always was some dude from Peñasco or Ojo Caliente passed out, drowning in his voluminous post-beer-bong vomit in the third floor head. The world was over for that rascal except for toilets and tile floors thought Jones as he hit the shower.

The Grateful Dead tapestry he put up on the window to shut out the light was, like, a total hit with his roommate and the fellows next door. And damn it all if the food wasn't a gazillion times better than at Allsup's.

With “Yow!” and “Yeah!” serving as enthusiastic interjections, the semester jetted out quick across the blue dome of the world. That spring, Charlie Jones made a grip of ceramic objects, read and decoded two situationist texts and learned how to tinkle out a couple of dances by Bartok.

Jones decided, as sure as eggs was eggs, he could never move home again. Living with the old man wasn't of any use, anyhow. That dude never seemed to get over his Afghan hound Duchess dying early. Twenty years had come and gone and it was still like living on the moon when Dad was around, all silent and dusty.

Reckoning the student ghetto was the way to go, Charlie began exhaustive research focused on finding a shack he could call his own. He did not have to extend himself too much into that realm mostly because he happened to run into his pal Donna in front of the student union.

It was just about May in those parts and Donna was gamboling about on the lawn with a lady friend who was dressed all in white. She was sporting a long skirt and sorta looked like Stevie Nicks, except for her hair. Her mop was as black as crow feathers and was blowing around in the springtime wind like it was trying to fly away into the clouds or something.

After a couple of obligatory hippie-hugs, Donna introduced Zelda and let it out the two of them had found an underground haven. It was a remodeled, carpeted, and suitably dark basement apartment they had found south of campus. The deal was they needed a third person to make the rent.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Jones said as a storm came up and it started to rain like it used to do in Albuquerque before the environmental disaster of 2037.

The next morning, Jones got up early and hauled his sorry ass over to the student ghetto. It was early, with the light just coming over the new jungle of tired elms that framed the place. As Charlie approached the underground pad, a dude dressed like a steam-shovel operator came racing up the stairs with Zelda on his heels in a fashion that vaguely reminded Jones of the German retreat from Stalingrad.

Charlie stood there while the two of them began to argue and cajole, gesticulate and weave. After about five minutes of that, the guy in the industrial costume lumbered over to his El Camino and rolled away while April Wine blasted through the truck’s speakers. Zelda gritted her teeth and extended her right hand, all friendly, acting like nothing at all weird had just happened around there—or anywhere else earth—for that matter.

But Jones sensed she was unsettled about the whole thing. With Zelda standing out there in her bare feet, toeing at the dirt nervously and clad in an oversized wife-beater and sweatpants, he gravely intoned—drawing back a ways as they shook hands—“Tell you what, I'll start bringing my stuff over tomorrow.”

It poured water from the sky for the next two days and the lightning flashed and flashed. When the storm let up, when Charlie Jones finally got moved in, he still thought it was a sweet deal. There was a tiny kitchen at the top of the stairs and the rest of the place really was underground; all the walls were cool to the touch and hardly any light got in at all.

Donna was never home. Sometimes Jones played new wave music recordings in the big room in very back of the joint. Otherwise kept to himself and got up early every morning so as to dutifully haul his sorry ass to school.

He couldn’t tell whether Zelda worked or not. Every time he went by her room, the door was open with Fleetwood Mac songs floating through the air, incense wafting here and there and Zelda reclining languidly on her bed while leafing through books about food and flowers.

She'd usually glance at him wanly as he passed. He'd smile vaguely or give her the Vulcan hand salute. One or the other of them would tilt their head curiously before looking away.

After two months of that, a spot opened up at Harvard House, which was a broke down palace occupied by a collective of artists. Their pad was right down the street from a haunted house; a decent pizza joint was just a block away. That was an easy choice thought Jones as he handed over three Franklins to his new landlord.

Charlie split from the underground chanti just before the sun came up so he didn't have to make eye contact with Zelda. He didn't see her again until a big house party came around just after Thanksgiving. By then it was easy enough for both to pretend they were strangers.

That was the only pretense they chose to preserve as the two began making out on the couch. As their hands entwined, Zelda tried to remember the previous summer while Charlie attempted to recall what sorta tuneage the lady favored. Everyone else was out on the porch drinking tequila, eating pumpkin pie and watching a winter tempest come down from the mountains.

V.25 No.26 | 06/30/2016

Event Horizon

Raise Your Voice

Tuesday, Jul 12: UNM Seal Forum

The first of a series of discussions with the public about the meaning and future of the seal of UNM.
V.25 No.22 | 6/2/2016
News City
Robert Maestas

Newscity

APD Stops Targeting Homeless, Mentally Ill in Reverse Drug Stings

APD ends drug entrapment, the city offers $10k reward for violent protesters, and there were years of tension between UNM and Gathering of Nations.
V.25 No.21 | 05/26/2016

Event Horizon

Words Alive

Thursday, Jun 2: Taos Poetry Festival

Story slams, workshops and open mics featuring poets Ocean Vuong, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, Nathan Brown, Sabina Jones and Alyia Martinson.

Event Horizon

An Odd Adventure (for an Otter)

Wednesday, Jun 1: Otter's Odd Adventure

World premiere performance of a new work for narrator and orchestra by the creator of "Too Much Coffee Man Opera."
V.25 No.16 | 04/21/2016
via morguefile

Event Horizon

Who Needs Picasso?

Friday, Apr 29: ArtsUnexpected

This student-curated event features over 250 artists including filmmakers, dancers, thespians, visual artists and musicians performing and showcasing their works across campus.
V.25 No.11 | 03/17/2016

Literature

Danger at the Rodeo

Karen Glinski, retired hot-air balloon pilot, will be at Page One Books at 2:30pm on Sunday, April 17, to talk about and sign her young-adult book, Danger at the Rodeo.

The book is described as such: "This exciting young adult book is the second to feature Emerson, his dog Lucky and his grandpa Charlie, a Navajo elder. This time, all three are headed to a week-long rodeo but instead of fun, they are plucked headlong into a criminal coping scandal and Lucky is stolen. Emerson begins a race against time to save his beloved dog and expose the criminal before they get him!"

Glinski was born in Yokohama, Japan, and grew up the oldest of six children in a military family. She majored in Anthropology at UNM, where she formed a life-long interest in the Native American cultures of the Southwest. She shares her Albuquerque home with two miniature dachshunds, Mr. Bojangles and Wee Willie Winkie. A retired hot-air balloon pilot, Glinski spends her time working, writing and training her doxies in rally and scent discrimination. Danger at the Rodeo is her second published book and the sequel to Stranded at Sheep Camp. She is working on the third book in this series, The Badge of Honor.

Page One Books is located at 5850 Eubank NE, Suite B-41, in Albuquerque's Mountain Run Shopping Center (southeast corner of Eubank and Juan Tabo). The Glinski event is free and open to the public. For more information, please call 294-2026 or visit www.page1book.com.

Literature

Teaching Across Cultural Strengths

UNM Associate Professor Alicia Chávez will be at the UNM Bookstore on Thursday, April 7, at 12pm to sign copies of Teaching Across Cultural Strengths (Stylus, 2016).

In Teaching Across Cultural Strengths, Chávez suggests that an imbalance in the teaching and learning situation exists when the teacher teaches from one cultural perspective and the student's primary learning experiences come from another cultural perspective. To enhance the possibility that the student will master the learning situation and achieve its deep objectives, it is important that college teachers expand their cultural reach and include multicultural perspectives in the teaching and learning situations. Teaching Across Cultural
Strengths offers a comprehensive set of guidelines based on a sound theoretical foundation, and empirical research that will enable college teachers to narrow the gap in cross cultural teaching and student learning.

Alicia Chávez is an Associate Professor in Educational Leadership and Policy at UNM. She has served as collegiate leader, student affairs professional, and faculty member in universities around the country. Chávez has also co-authored several books on culture and college teaching, including Web Based Teaching Across Culture and Age (Springer, 2013).

The UNM Bookstore is located at 2301 Central Ave. NE at the intersection of Cornell and Central.

V.25 No.11 | 3/17/2016

Letters

The readers write about ABQ Rapid Transit and UNM sports.
V.25 No.7 | 2/18/2016
News City
Robert Maestas

Newscity

Use of Force Policy Updated

This week in Newscity: APD’s new Use of Force policy, the State legislature and weed, plus abortion foes continue their assault on New Mexico healthcare providers.
V.25 No.6 | 02/11/2016
basementfilms.org

Event Horizon

Down with Digital

Thursday, Feb 18: Basement Films Analogue Spectacular

Watch strange and beautiful 16mm educational films and 8mm home movies. Featuring real celluloid film and real live film projectors.
V.25 No.6 | 2/11/2016

news

The Daily Word in Denver Broncos, Beyonce and Politics

The Daily Word

What’s a better way to celebrate a Super Bowl winning? Trash your own hometown.

Beyoncé? More like Beyon-slaaay.

Because what’s an event without someone stirring up irrelevant controversy?

You’re a bad feminist if you don’t vote for Hillary Clinton. I forgot that’s the fastest way I get sent to the depths of hell.

The Clintons v. Sanders. Yikes.

My actual goal in life is to be like Snow White and befriend and home animals.

Be a homie and help your community.

V.25 No.1 | 01/07/2016
Courtesy of the artist

What Happened to the First Peugeot

A story about summer written in winter
V.24 No.47 | 11/19/2015

News

The Daily Word in Republicans, dry-cleaning spills and Islamic State Fighters

The Daily Word

UNM is not alone with difficulties providing students resources to report sexual assault.

Growing Marijuana on tribal land is especially sticky—legally speaking.

The dry-cleaning chemical spill Downtown is large enough to warrant vapor testing in area homes.

Theocon Damon Linker continues to be increasingly alienated by his former conservative colleagues.

The Nation's Lydia Wilson interviews an imprisoned ISIS fighter.

I can be a doctor if I say I am.

V.24 No.46 | 11/12/2015

News

The Daily Word in Paris Attacks, WIPP Leaks and Eating Healthy

The Daily Word

ISIS claims responsibility for attacks in Paris. The Guardian is providing live updates.

Suspect in road rage killing of 4-year-old pleads not guilty.

UNM wants to make sexual assault investigations happen more quickly.

The state is close to a settlement over the WIPP leak.

Several more business opening in the shipping container development near Carlisle and the freeway.

The Don't Hug Me I'm Scared crew explain healthy eating.

 

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