Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Affinity CoLab Presents! New Year Edition

On this day, no matter what is happening in our world, we at Affinity CoLab celebrate another moment of creating, collaborating, and ART; for, this is the glue that binds. Art is necessary for our humanity. It teaches us empathy and how to see the world through lenses other than our own. So, celebrate with us and enjoy the pieces we have for you today.

Our theme was RESOLUTION! (Shout out to Steel City for being an awesome host to our most well-attended Story Slam/Reading to date!)

Eleven year old poet, Harrison Comber, made his feelings known about resolutions in this acrostic poem: Resolution 

Katy Comber decided to rework an old poem and turn the hopelessness of the original poem "Lost" into a Resolution

New contributor and established author, Patty Kline-Capaldo, decided to play with the word and see where it took her: Resolution

Other contributions included: 

Responses to the prompt, The Letter that Changed Everything: 

Nathaniel Lieberman submitted his love letter to 2016 and made the year look a little brighter: 2016.

Fred Feldman takes us on an adventure through the eyes of a guy named Earl

Indie Film and Web-Series: 

The extended trailer for the anticipated Brooklyn Baby, Jersey Maybe is here

The FreeCreate Series: 

Photographer Ronna Fretz takes us on an extraordinary visual adventure through Manayunk, PA in her latest photo series.  

First time contributor and author of Tesla's Signal, L. Woodswalker, brings wit and hilarity to this edition with her two humorous poems, "Press One for More Options" and "Oxytocin."

A chilling look at the future through Fred W. Feldman's short fiction piece, "The Future of the Automotive Industry." 

And, last but not least, no edition would be complete without another installment from Lydia Sudall's Serial MicroFiction

That's all from us today. Be sure to check out the new prompts on the side panel. As always...
Happy Creating, Everyone! 

Resolution, Harrison Comber

by Harrison Comber 

Really this again
Every year 
Sorry not this time 
Okay maybe 
Like I'll do that again 
Ugh forget this 
This is dumb make a resolution to lose weight and then gain 10 more pounds than last year 
I really am getting tired of this 
Oh well 
Next year

The Letter that Changed Everything, Indie Film Series, Nathaniel Lieberman

Compilation Film
By Nathaniel Lieberman


Indie Film Series, Krystle N. Adams

Note from the Editor: We are so excited that it's February! It's the month that Brooklyn Baby, Jersey Maybe makes its official premiere! Watch the extended trailer here! Congratulations BBJM team!

Resolution, K. Comber

Letter from the Author: For the prompt, Resolution, I resolved to edit and rework a poem that I published before it was ready. "Lost" became "Resolution," and this poem has blossomed under revision. 

By Katy Comber 

I resolve 
to name this restlessness
in my bones

I resolve 
toward bravery as I sway here, lost
to my surroundings

I resolve to fight the
windmills that thread deep
in what I wonder of my soul:
      (spirit, fraction of a whole,
       a vein of a needle about to shed
       from a grand Muir tree)

I resolve
to hug these
tsunami waves

To sit, calm, in this blur
breathe in and out 
my purposeful temporary-ness
     (while others fall permanently 
      at rest returning to the dust 
      that calls to me, daily)

I resolve 
to find my anchor that pulls 
and binds me to this world
to these fallen
sculptures molded by the same hand

I resolve
to wrestle to understand
this restlessness

I resolve 
to name it
title it. own it. know it. 

I resolve to hope.

Photo Series, Ronna Fretz

photo series
by Ronna Fretz

The Letter that Changed Everything, Fred W. Feldman

The Letter that Changed “Everything”

by Frederick W. Feldman

Earl didn’t do a lot of dating in college, but, by far, his most frustrating relationship was with a Dadaist. He met her at a party thrown by one of his friends. This guy, David, was studying engineering while Earl was studying communications, but they still hung out, and David had just moved off-campus, for his senior year, with five roommates, and they decked their new house out with streamers and lights, filled coolers with beer and soft drinks, and ordered a stack of ten boxes of pizza to celebrate their independence from campus rules.

Poetry Series, L. Woodswalker

Press One for more Options
By L. Woodswalker

I never did want to murder anyone
as much as that Robot you get on the phone.
Smash it with a hammer
shoot it with a gun
for more options, please press One.

"press the last 4 digits of your Social Sec
followed by the pound key, click click click.
Enter the name of your old home town
what was the color of your first prom gown?
I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch what you did say
Let us try another way."

Your call is important. Please stay on the line
I've been here 2 hours. I'm losing my mind!
I've pressed every button a person can press.
Is there a button for "Please kiss my Ass"?

Pretty soon you'll hear such a crash'
when I throw my phone right into the trash.
Crawl down the wires and find that machine
and smash it into smithereens.
Then it'll be like the Robots say
I'm going to "have a WUN-derful Day!"

By L. Woodswalker

Oxytocin is the Love Hormone.
Much more kindlycv than Testosterone.

It brings the mama's milk to her breast
Feeds the baby with food that is best
She loves the child that came from her womb
she's one with the earth, the stars and the moon.

The love hormone makes you kindly and sweet
Makes you love all the people you meet
why don't they give it to the angry young guys
why don't they put it in the water supply.

Why don't they serve it with every meal
why don't they spray it on the battlefield.
Why don't they drop it on the Pentagon
Put it in a rocket for a Love Bomb.

Oxytocin...the love hormone.

L. Woodswalker is the author of Tesla's Signal. For more information about L. Woodswalker, you can visit the website!  

Short Fiction, Fred W. Feldman

The Future of the Automotive Industry
by Frederick W. Feldman

As her dad helped her crawl into the backseat, Kaitlyn saw the big red button with the skull on it again. She kept forgetting that it was there. “Head down,” said her father, and fastened her into the car seat. The straps were too tight, and she wriggled around until he loosened them for her. The car lurched forward and the bumpy ride began. Her mother and father were in the front, and they were murmuring about directions. She didn’t like car rides because she got very bored. Her mother had given her a picture book, but she didn’t feel like reading it. The sunlight flashed across the pages and hurt her eyes. She wanted to know what the button was for.
“Daddy?” she asked. Her mother shushed her. They were still talking about roads. She waited until they quieted down, and then she asked again.
“Daddy, what does this red button do?”
She could see his eyes look at her in the rearview mirror.
“Don’t press that,” he said. “That’s the kill button. If you press it, knives come out and chop up whomever is sitting in the chair.”
“So if I pressed it, it would cut you up?” she asked.
“Into bitty pieces,” he answered.
She was quiet and thought about this for a while. She did not want her father to get chopped up into bitty pieces. She looked over and saw a red button with a skull on it at the base of her mother’s seat, too. She did not want her mother to get chopped up into bitty pieces, either.
“Why are those buttons there?” she asked.
“Well, you can get them without them, but that’s very expensive. It’s just how they make them. You have to be careful. People have died from them, so be very, very careful around them, okay?”
“Okay,” she promised.
“They didn’t use to have them,” said her mother. “I remember riding with my parents, and they didn’t have them then.”
“That’s true,” agreed her father. “I think they started appearing when I was a teenager. It was big news then. A lot of people didn’t like them. Of course, all my friends thought they were exciting and dangerous. Everyone got used to them pretty quickly.”
Kaitlyn didn’t hear her parent’s reminiscences; she had fallen asleep. This fact surprised her when she awoke. She hadn’t planned on falling asleep at all. Now the sun was setting. The first signs of pink had appeared. Huge clouds took up more than their fair share of space in the sky. The highway was long, lined by trees. Cars flew past in both lanes. On the side of the road, immigrants clustered around the foliage and ate the leaves off the branches.
“Are we almost there yet?” she asked her parents.
“Almost,” said her father. “You fell asleep.”
“I know,” she said.
She stared out the window and counted red trucks while the car bumped and hummed. Then she read her picture book for a while. Then the car slowed, and she could feel it. She looked up, and they were driving off the road and pulling onto the grass.
“We’re here,” said her mother.
Her father came around and unbuckled her from the car seat and helped her out. She put her feet onto the grass and a gust of wind hit her, whipping her hair around, and almost pulling her over.
“Look over here,” said her father.
An expansive vista greeted her. They stood at the edge of a peak, and the surf crashed with anger nearly a mile below them. Up here, the wind was harsh, but the view was magnificent. The sky looked bigger than she had ever seen it. The noise of the waves was a distant symphony, grumbling.
The three of them stood silently. Kaitlyn thought the scene looked like something out of a fairy book. Then a rumbling sounded from behind her. She turned around to see a truck drive off the road and zoom, engine blaring, towards them. She thought it was going to hit them, but it passed them on the side and kept going until it flew off the edge of the peak. The wheels kept spinning even as it hung suspended in the air, then it turned slowly end-over-end as it plummeted towards the waves, and met them with a crash.
“Daddy, why did that person go off the edge?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Well, they get paid a lot of money to do that.”
“They get money to do that?”
“Yes, they get money from the car companies to get rid of old cars, and they get a check from the government for population control,” her father explained.
“But don’t they die?” asked Kaitlyn.
“They do, but then they can give their families a better life.”
The family continued admiring the view for a bit, then a rusted sports car flew past them, careened off the edge, and hit the water.
Kaitlyn’s mother said, “I think we should leave now.”

“Agreed, it’s too busy here,” said her father. “Maybe we can find somewhere with less traffic. Everybody in the car!”

Resolution, Patty Kline-Capaldo

by Patty Kline-Capaldo

A setting of the jaw

To the flaunting of the laws

Of reality
Where truth is fiction and fiction is truth

To speak, to write
To stand and not take flight