Saturday, June 30, 2012

Fiction Korner

"Sunnyside Stories"
The office was poorly lit. That’s not to say it wasn’t illuminated. One might say there was too much light. Harsh, fluorescent light. Light that reflected off the filmy surfaces of the matching desk and credenza.
The furniture wasn’t new. Probably from the middle twentieth century. It had a certain funk from years of neglect. Plus it was cheap and probably not all wood. There was only one window. It was not a perfect square, but it was darn close. It definitely wasn’t a golden rectangle. It didn’t please the eye. Something about it caused discomfort for those types who pay attention to that kind of thing. The venetian blinds could’ve cast an ominous shadow, but they were up. Also the lights were still on and it was dusk.
But none of these decorative deficiencies much bothered Spenser. His office was how he found it when he arrived in Sunnyside three weeks before. He could get work done anywhere. His inauspicious upbringing taught him that. Also, the War. He didn’t need to fuss over the placement of one of those green lamps or select the perfect resting angle for that executive double pen set. Maybe one’s actually a mechanical pencil—but, again, Spenser didn’t burn too many calories on matters of that sort.
The consultant possessed the singular ability to get the job done no matter the immediate environment. Even if that meant dealing with Chad three times a week...
--Jawn Steighmeaus

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Musiks Korner

Gabe Gabriel here, resident loop-digger, scholar of obscure noise, and all-around chronicler of all things Kreation. Now, in the past, I've come to you on bended knee to humbly offer the multitude of curios and crazy shit (pardon the technicalities) which have amassed at the margins of the kreative continuum. Mining the shores of Kreation Creek is no mean feat, and many are the days when I have trudged home, empty-handed, galoshes squishy with the discomfort of revelation just beyond my grasp. Yet, when among the crushed aluminum malt-liquor vessels and other detritus, I happen upon a discovery such as I am pleased to present today, the apparent emptiness of sog-sap days seems mere prelude to the inevitable joy of kreative discovery.

Ronald Raygun has been, until now, a sometimes-contributor with a cagey personality who eschews direct interaction in favor of contribution via mail. Yet, in this discovery, we parse out a vital component of his personal history, as we find the young man releasing a single for the short-lived but influential record imprint, Kreative Destruction Records (in-depth profile to come soon). Equal parts angst and erudition, "Beside Myself" is a tale of a boy, a girl, and a boy again. Take it in the brain: