by Meghan Grammer.
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[A photo of a framed mirror with “Hi Erica, I’m glad you’re finally home!” written in large letters in green marker. The mirror is apparently in a bathroom — it reflects a blank wall, a shower rod, and the top of a white shower curtain with a pattern of green leaves. In the lower left-hand corner, the mirror reflects the face and hands of the young, white woman intently taking the photo with her phone — it’s Casey!]
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[A formal letter typed on letterhead: “Superconductor — Powering the World” The dynamic logo in the header looks like a spiral of orange flame, or possibly a phoenix.]
Dear Miss Casey,
I was quite pleased to receive your letter. Miss Kadish has been one of my most diligent students since we were assigned to work together in the Enhanced Abilities mentor/mentee program, and she knows of what she speaks.
I also wouldn’t worry about your powers not being advanced enough to join the Union in future. Membership is decided based on whether or not you choose to be mentored, not on the relative strength of your power. When I founded the Union at the age of sixteen, I made sure to build in provisions so that any person, no matter their level of talent, can become a member. (How else would Chriss Angel ever have been able to become one of our most well-known spokespersons?)
Even at sixteen, I had already had to fight legislation requiring me to supply the entirety of the United States with electrical power, though generating that power solely from my own body would have left me a mental and physical wreck. Human beings will always try to get you to give them anything special for free, no matter the personal cost to you, so I would recommend you join as soon as possible to guarantee that you will be paid a living wage for any “mental heavy lifting” you do in the future, as opposed to being paid in the “gratitude of humanity”.
Do not hesitate to contact me in the future if you have any questions about the Union—or even if you just want some help with penmanship!
Yours,
Erica Stratton
CEO, Superconductor Electrical Company
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[A screenshot of an email sent in Gmail’s standard web interface, with email addresses redacted. The name in the header is accompanied by an icon photo of a white cloud against a blue sky.]
Subject: !!! From: Emily Kadish To: Casey Casey, my DEAR — Got your letter today, and I’m SERIOUSLY impressed. Forget timing — it’s hard to use a ballpoint pen with your hand, let alone your brain. When I suggested we write letters, I figured you’d use one of the kids’ markers, or a Sharpie maybe, but using the right amount of pressure to write clearly with a ballpoint pen is like graduate-level shit. You’re better at this than you think. Basically, keep practicing. And if you get bored or frustrated, try focusing on a different skill. Remember: you can totally specialize. This kid I went to high school with could never lift anything heavier than a soda can. He’s unbelievably nimble, though, and he’s doing a brain-surgery residency at Hopkins now. (I’m actually not sure how that’s going to work with his union membership? I know appallingly little about the union, it’s actually really embarrassing. Don’t tell your mom, OK?) (Do you think I could meet your mom when I’m out there next? I bet she’s got stories…) (I hope that was okay to ask…?) I promise I will send you a real letter next time — I just can’t deal right now and I figured you’d understand. Claw got out this morning, and I had to circle around for hours looking for her. There’s a whole family of tuxedos that live in the neighborhood, so I kept dropping down to grab her and then realizing it was the wrong cat. It sucked, and I went through like a gallon of OJ, and I think I have a sunburn, but she’s fine and I’m fine, just whiny and exhausted. Also now that Claw is safe I might murder her. More good things! Erica’s in town and we’re meeting up. Is it okay if I show her your letter? She may have some ideas for you, but I don’t want to share something you’re not okay with, esp. since this is so new to you…? love, E PS: HEY LOOK A BONUS CHALLENGE — write yourself a nice message on your mirror using soap or eyeliner or something. No hands, obvs. And send me a picture!!
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[A letter hand-written in blue ball-point pen on graph paper. The signature is written in larger, wobbly letters, with less pressure from pen to paper.]
EMILY!!!! Okay, so I think I’m getting stronger — I’ve been working with my mom like you suggested (and she hasn’t even been too “I told you so” about it, so that’s nice.) Maybe stronger is the wrong word, but more dexterous? I can now move small objects down mazes without touching the edges! ‘Small’ meaning light and thin, mostly pens because I’ve got so many lying around, but remember last month when I was still struggling with even bobby pins? I still feel totally futile about the prospect of ever joining you guys with an actual union card, but at least I feel like I’m making progress? I haven’t pulled anything out at school yet, but that’s still going well. The little ones barrell running straight into me at full speed to give me hugs — and you can’t really ask for more than that, right? (I mean, obviously I can … I really want to join you guys, and you’d THINK with my family background I’d be a shoo-in … but, I know, we’ve been over this. That’s why I’m telling you about the hugs! Being happy with where I am! The situation as it is! (I told you I’m listening!) Okay, whatever. Ready for something cool? love, CASEY ^ that only took me 3 minutes! THREE!!!
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Shells - by Abby Ringiewicz
The Return of the Vegan Noodles 2 pounds of cooked spaghetti 4 tablespoons of sesame oil 1/2 cup of soy sauce 1/2 cup of rice vinegar 2 cups of peanut butter (make sure it’s vegan—don’t get that Skippy nonsense) You will spend a little too long doing your makeup upstairs because sculpting your eyeliner can be A Process. When you go downstairs to help your co-noodler, she will have already prepared the sauce and started to heat the pasta. She will not be upset, and she will—in her heart of hearts—be happy you changed into acceptable clothes instead of the fuzzy, slouchy pants with a pattern of wide-eyed owls she hates. “Alas! No scallions!” she will exclaim. You will assure her it’s okay, but you will later miss any speck of color in the large bowl of beige noodles. You hate beige. You will help as much as possible by stirring the noodles in the pot, catching strays that fall by the wayside, and providing emotional support when your co-noodler says the peanut butter sauce looks a little weird. “Yeah, that is way too…liquidy.” You will stir it with a spoon and make an inside frowny face at the odd lumpiness. “What about blending it? Though that would lose us a bunch of sauce…” Your co-conspirator will say “Remember The Tale of Wise Old Kevin! He valiantly attempted to blend this mixture many moons ago and found that it made no difference! A spoon is just as noble an instrument as any.” You will poke at the gloopy beige goop and lick your finger. The taste will be good, but the texture will be questionable. You will hope for the best, knowing there must be some secret alchemy that takes place between the moment the noodles and sauce mix and the moment they reach human lips. “Does this count as an unstable colloid?” you will suddenly ask yourself, attempting to recall some semblance of scientific knowledge from your high school past. You will wave away this thought, trying to focus more on the task at hand. Once the pasta is drained and put in the bowl with the sauce, you will attack it carefully with a fork and spoon. While mixing these together, you will have fleeting images of throwing the spaghetti everywhere in an impromptu food fight where you are the only person armed. Swirling with the sensuous noodles, the sauce begins to change. It looks slick, like the peanut butter got tired of being a granular brat and decided to settle down into a tasty coating for the noodles. You smile on the inside; there is hope yet! After the noodles seem sufficiently saucy, you will cover the large bowl with a dish and leave it alone for a while until the potluck you prepared them for begins. Later, you will realize that the texture was initially foreign to you because you were scooping the cold sauce pre-transformation. Once heated, it becomes a slippery coating. Once chilled, the sauce finds a perfect place between liquid and solid, gently glazing the noodles while also clumping up in the appropriate places. You just have to trust the process. Trust Kevin.
-by Aida Manduley
Hot Mess
I refuse to apologize for wearing my yoga pants to the job interview
and for getting all this sauce on my abdomen. Just this morning my body told me it would henceforth refuse to participate in societal beauty standards
and I cannot say I blame it. It is exhausting, this continuous battle to sculpt my fiery mane into some kind of sensical landscape, to contain the unholy mess
that is always escaping my borders. For example, the fitful seam in my stomach— the place where the problems come bubbling out if I press too hard.
I cannot be expected to contain myself. What I can do is keep one eye fixed on the inside, and the other eye on the unrest that simmers at my feet.
I am the only sustenance. I am all that I need.
-Jenny Williamson
Our dear friends at Amadeus Magazine, home of #24CC contributor Abby Ringiewicz, just put up this interview with Eddie Perrote. They also have some exciting holiday packages available in their shop, if you still have some holiday shopping to do!
We encourage you to share the link to this rather than reblogging the entire post (since this is frequently updated and we want to minimize the spread of outdated info!): bit.ly/FergusonAEM. Also, ...
And as long as we're talking about Aida Manduley making waves, she was the primary collector of this extremely comprehensive post about the goings on in Ferguson, with advice on how to engage in the conversation constructively. This, also, has blown up considerably. Way to go, Aida!
When I saw a recently-published book that highlighted 16 "sex masters" and noticed everyone was White (and no one bringing it up), I realized I needed to do something. See what happened next! This ...
#24CC's Aida Manduley, in conjunction with the Women Of Color Sexual Health Network, wrote this piece about the whitewashing of People of Color in the sexual health field, and it has been making some waves. Go check it out, it's fabulous!
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Interested in 3D printing but don’t know where to start? Come to the MLK Digital Commons on December 6th and we’ll explain everything you need to know!
During this hour-long class we’ll explain how different kinds of 3D printers work, give demos of 3D design programs that you can use to create your own items, and finally show you how you can have your design printed in plastic by MLK’s 3D Print Crew. If you’re a member of Spanning Tree, be sure to RSVP!
#24CC contributor Erica Stratton is co-teaching this workshop on 3D-printing in Washington, DC! If you're in the area, it would be well worth your attention.