The Wake

Israel’s right to ExistBy Dennis RoyzenfeldIsrael since its conception has been engaged in vicious struggle against its enemies on all fronts. To this day, the wars have never really ended. Once the military option became impossible for the Arabs states to destroy Israel, they switched tactics. Terrorism, propaganda and Palestinian refugees are being used as pawns to apply pressure on Israel.Don’t get me wrong Palestinian suffering is real, but to lay the blame entirely on Israel is misguided. In 1948, when Israel was formed, some 800,000 thousand people became refugees. They were forced to leave the lands where …

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“Beat it Valentine’s,” says one holiday to the other. “This month ain’t big enough for the both of us!”“You go Mardi Gras,” I cheer her on. “Out with the day of Hallmark quips and in with the beads Bourbon Street is made of!”Hmmm. I suspect now that you can see through my beard of commercialism antipathy, particularly among those who are, oh how shall we say, “shacked up,” “taken,” or otherwise “previously engaged.”Oh, you know who you are. You whose Friday nights no longer include mind-numbing amounts of alcohol but instead a simple stop at the friendly neighborhood Blockbuster. Yes, …

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VH1 makes me want to die. The other day I came home from a particularly stressful day at work, flipped on my pirated cable and came across “The Fabulous Life of Hollywood ‘it’ girls.” For those of you unfamiliar “The Fabulous Life of…” series, not only do I envy you, but I also hold you in the highest possible tier of cool. (Seriously. Beatnik-snapping-your-fingers-and-saving-the-world-with-a-haiku-cool). The rest of us know that this is one of the many recently developed and highly rated shows based on the (correct) assumption that the people of the United States will watch anything related to celebrities …

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I got a call at about 10:30 this morning. The message my friend left told me that Hunter S. Thompson had blown his head off with a shotgun. My first thoughts of what the body would have looked like. I wondered if it was a clean blow, or if he only shot off enough tissue to elicit a scream from his wife. I wondered if his flesh, blood, bones, teeth, skull, and brains were splattered all over the wall of his room. I wondered if he had stuck the gun in his mouth, or just placed it to the side …

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With three records out on celebrated dance and DJ label Ninja Tune and an upcoming release on Lex Records, a sub-label of Warp Records, St. Louis Park native Andrew Broder, and his acclaimed five piece live ensemble, Fog, has an excellent track record. The newest Fog album, “10th Avenue Freakout,” is slated for a March 22nd U.S. release. You can catch the release party on March 18th at the 7th Street Entry. I stopped by Hymie’s Vintage Records, where Broder works, to chat about the new record, his previous projects and the Twin Cities scene.“I think I just got burnt …

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My first Thomasina experience occurred exactly twelve days ago when she took the stage at Coffman Union as the sole role in a one-woman play - Daughters of Africa. Since then (and at the risk of sounding slightly creepy) she has succeeded in consuming many of my thoughts and much of my time. Meet her, and you’ll understand. She’s not an easy woman to get out of your head. She’s soft in the way that steel is soft, but owns eyes — the kind of eyes capable of immediately disarming the most defensive among us. Charms aside, Thomasina …

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Indigo.There is nothing unreal about this girl. In fact, it seems as though everything that could possibly be real about this world shines forcefully through her solid eyes. With a smooth tone of voice and a pleasingly liquid hip-hop drawl, Leah Bartizal informs me that she was given the name Indigo by a friend in her 16th year of life. While trying to help her through an insanely unpleasant mushroom trip, this friend stated simply that she had always thought of Leah as “Indigo.” Leah describes Indigo as depth; “it’s deep and dark and profound. It’s when the sun …

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There is one ultimate B movie. One that is so extreme in its intentionally bizarre and stupid nature that it can claim to be the most deranged film ever created. This film involves Clive Barker, Texas, llamas, barnyard hanky panky, and some ultra-ridiculous dubbing. This, the be all and end all of B films, is the horror comedy cult classic from 1997, Barn of the Blood Llama (available from bijouflix.com), directed by Texas madman Kevin L. West. I’ve decided for your benefit to present to you a discussion with this autere of insanity. Enjoy! The Wake: Do …

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A unique convergence is happening at St. Paul’s Minnesota Museum of American Art: combing art with rock’n’roll. The museum’s program, “Art Here 1st Fridays,” brings local bands such as Melodious Owl and Aneruretical together with American artists to make their work more accessible to youth culture. The museum’s current show “Abstract Painting in Minnesota: Selected Works 1930 to the Present” melded well with the exuberance of Aneruretical and Melodious Owl on February 4. Before the bands began their performance concertgoers meandered from painting to painting, experiencing what the museum has to offer its younger patrons. The artwork is vibrant, much …

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If I told you one of the best movies of 2001 was about a teenager with visions of a grotesque man-sized rabbit, you might begin to question my judgment in films. Donnie Darko tells the strange tale of an ’80s youth (Jake Gyllenhaal) who returns home from a bout of sleepwalking to find that a jet engine has landed in his bedroom. Had our protagonist not been out chatting with the above-mentioned demonic bunny, the falling hunk of metal would have crushed him. Why has he been saved? What purpose does this strange and not-at-all-cute animal-man have for our hero? …

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I’ve heard it said that one’s inner world is only as large as one’s ability to articulate it; meaning the depth of our thoughts are limited by the breadth of our vocabulary when trying to relate an experience or even an anecdote to anyone else other than our own self. And language, the means of such conveyance, is an almost constantly shifting collective agreement of naming and encoding the world inside and around us. It is an ever-changing organic and metaphysical mixture of inner sensations at odds with outer manifestations. Shit – with all that going on how …

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I would take a bullet for Ian Brown. Any place. Any day. Any time. He’s one of the greats – a legend of his time. A walking god among men. He is Lennon, McCartney, Jagger and Marley – all rolled into one. A primal genius incarnate capable of euphoriating anything he pleases. The man could bend the will of an entire country. And he has.This may be the reason why I’d be so willing to let a shotgun slug rip through my chest to keep the swaggering Manchurian alive – maybe it’s why any of his fans would. Brown …

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I crawled into a seashell.
Coral encompassed my heart.
Calcium leeched into my skin. Ridges of cool cream
And rust orange
Lapped at my ribs and spin.Abalones by bones,
Augers under arteries,
Limpets through triceps.Smooth purples and blues
Running on my underside
In iridescent rainbowsLike oil riding waves.
I basked in a tide pool
Shallow as a puddleAnd you picked me up in your palm
And held me close to your ear.
I murmured sea secrets,Drowned in my own words
Like a lover of the land
Not the sea. -Kim Gengler, student of English & journalism, Junior

The earliest memory that I have is a vision of myself, probably 3 years old, hiding in the racks at a department store. Outside of my smothering cotton fort, I can hear my mom frantically calling out my name, inside of the rack I am giggling with delight. This is one of the only memories in my life that doesn’t have a soundtrack. From there on out, Bob Dylan’s Tangled Up in Blue haunts my subconscious valleys. As soon as I climbed out of the clothing rack and moved on to bigger and better hiding …

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