Rage Issue - Phi Magazine

ZIN EΦM A G A

THE RAGE ISSUE
vol.3
1

Φ

MAGAZINE

The Rage Issue | Φ 2

THE RAGE ISSUE

VOLUME 3

3

“The uncertain times we live in are daunting; it’s easy to feel
small and powerless, at the mercy of the tides. But the writers,
poets, and artists in these pages will not be cowed. They have

something else in mind... Welcome to the Rage Issue.”

ARIEL DE LA GARZA DAVIDOFF & CHIARA ZUCCHELLI
EDITORS IN CHIEF

The Rage Issue | Φ 4

CONTENTS

No Prose at Your Desk 6-7 The Call 25
by Sean Benstead, art by Teresa Satterthwaite by Chiara Zucchelli, art by Herin Kim

Back Home 8-9 Whether Creatures of Becoming... 26-27
by Ishrak Hassan, art by Herin Kim by John Dorsch, art by Teresa Satterthwaite

Philosophers, Obituaries, and 10-12 The Party Was Here Long 28-29
the Nature of Rage Before U Got Here
by Sam Green by Maya Twersky

The Party Was Here Long Abeyance 30
Before U Got Here 13 by Nash Metaxas, art by Antonis Koukoutsis
by Maya Twersky 14-15
The Cold in Your Eyes 31
Economy Class 16 by Jack Jones
by Aron Gyenge, art by Cveta Gotovats 17
18-19 Sanity 32-33
El Verano Tormenta by Richard Bachman, photography by Herin Kim
by Bruno Riquelme
After All 34-35
Subconscious Radiation by Basil Benopoulos, art by Antonis Koukoutsis
by Antonis Koukoutsis
Breaking Down Fashion 36-38
Within Goes Without by Thomas Greengrass, art by Renée Bertini
by Diana Craciun,
photography by Aneta Swianiewicz Art 39
by Bia Nua

The Party Was Here Long 20 I Bite 40-41
Before U Got Here 21 by Gerardo Posada, art by Rodrigo Autric
by Maya Twersky 22-24
Credits 42-43
The Myth of Her The Phi Magazine Team
by Evelina Engelaityte

Lobsters, Incels, and the Good Life
by Maria Payro, art by Renée Bertini

THE FRONT AND BACK COVERS FOR THIS ISSUE WERE CREATED BY BIA NUA.
FOR ENQUIRIES AND MORE OF HIS WORK SEE @BIANUAARTIST ON INSTAGRAM.

5

The Rage Issue | Φ 6 The Goup by Teresa Satterthwaite

NO PROSE AT YOUR DESK

(UNLESS IT’S WORK RELATED)
by Sean Benstead

The pipedream awakens,
Rejoicing our despair
With madness spawned by Reason,
Abysmal progress reigns.
Life’s vicious velocity,
Dictates productive minds.
Growth demands your sacrifice,
But prosperity is never guaranteed.
Toiling through absurdity,
Only by death will you depart.
To experience endless funerals,
Desktop caskets, the iron tempo of the clock.
Pylon replaces steeple,
Transmitting through the smog,
Laughter through the airwaves,
Loaded pistols to your head.
Renounce! Renounce! Renounce!
Forever heed the call!
Tune-in to our public broadcasts,
And out of childish dreams.

7

BACK HOME

by Ishrak Hassan, art by Herin Kim

Imagine a man like many other. He commutes to doors close again. In his present disappointment
he realizes that the tapping has already been going
work five days a week and takes a train twice a day. on for fifteen minutes. It is still as steady and reg-
It’s a wintry Thursday afternoon as he is about to ular as when it started. At this point, our man ex-
hop on the 5:35pm train. There are exactly seven cludes any human cause. It suddenly occurs to him
stops from the station near his workplace in the that there must be a problem with the train, like
city center and the one where he gets off. As usu- a loose part or a mechanical defect of some sort.
al, there is a fairly big crowd gathering around the Now that he thinks of it, he remembers hearing,
doors of the train. The announcer shouts some- back in the station, about some kind of issue with
thing about the condition of the rails from the the rails although he doesn’t remember hearing the
metallic speakers hanging above the platform. Our details.
man fails to capture much of the message, except At the approaching of the second stop he has al-
for a few words at the end, as he just entered the most reconciled himself with the tapping noise,
station and is now queueing on the platform. He accepting his powerlessness in the face of the pos-
gets on as the doors open making a sound which sible mechanical defect. But, as the train stops, he
is too familiar for him. He is able to quickly find notices with horror that the noise goes on even
a seat beside the window. After having pushed his when the train is still - he recollects that the same
bag under the seat, he takes off his coat. A man just thing happened at the last station. The situation
like him sits beside him. The train fills up in less starts to get on his nerves. Although he still can’t
than a minute and our man takes a deep breath as totally exclude the mechanical hypothesis, it now
the doors shut. seems to be a quite unlikely one. On the other
The train now slowly leaves the station and he hand, he is certain that the author is not a person.
shuts his eyes for a few seconds. Images of himself His forehead is now getting warm and moist as the
taking a long hot shower roll before him under his train is gliding towards the third stop. A couple of
eyelids. The warm vision is suddenly interrupted isolated droplets of sweat soon appear on his neck.
as he starts hearing it. A slow, regular tapping. It Just after having passed the stop, he attempts a des-
is barely audible but he still manages to hear it perate maneuver: He swiftly takes out a tissue from
beyond the chattering voices all around him. He a packet he had in his bag, rips two small pieces
thinks it must be someone near him tapping on the of it and makes two little tissue-balls; he then pro-
window. He reaches for his bag and takes out the ceeds to slip them deep in his ear canals, making
book he sometimes pretends to read on the train. sure that the man seated beside him doesn’t notice.
This time - in an attempt to take his mind off that But this not only doesn’t stop the tapping but, as
sound - he actually starts reading it. Yet, he can’t soon as he inserts the spheres, it makes it becomes
get past the first three sentences because the tap- louder and faster; it almost feels like as if its origin
ping gets louder as soon as he begins to read. He was inside his skull and that, by isolating himself
closes the book leaving his forefinger between the from external sounds, he made that noise more
pages and, looking out the window, briefly follows vivid and discernible. The trouble is that he now
a crow taking off from a lamp post and away from can’t even take the pieces of tissue out because, in
his gaze. “Surely someone else must be bothered the heat of the moment, he put them too far inside
by this?” he says under his breath. He looks at the his ears.
man beside him but he doesn’t seem to even notice At the fourth and fifth stops our unlucky man
it or, at any rate, doesn’t seem to care. tries to sit tight. His eyes are fixedly staring at a
When the train approaches the first stop, our man point between his brown polished shoes, his right
decides to stand up with the excuse of wanting to hand’s nails piercing through his right thigh and
put his coat in the storage area above the seats. the left hand sweating all over the armrest. Arrived
From a standing position he then quickly scans the at the sixth stop, he is at the limit of his tolerance
rows of seats both behind and in front of his. At a and thinks about jumping out of the train. He has
first look, no one seems to be making that noise. a moment of hesitation as he looks around him
Unsatisfied, he then decides to take his seat as the

The Rage Issue | Φ 8

to see how are the people reacting to his distress. instinct. He cannot do anything else but attack.
Everyone around him is indifferent. No one seems He violently hits the window with the side of his
to hear the tapping or see that he is hearing it. closed fists. He bangs it repeatedly and with ever
As he lingers on these considerations, the doors more force, following the tapping’s tempo as he at-
close again. His legs are now visibly shaking and tempts to kill it.
yet he is unable to utter a word. He doesn’t know He sees the doors wide open as he turns around.
if he wants to punish himself, jump at and punch As though being moved by an external force, he
the doors that didn’t give him time to think or as- jumps over the legs of the man beside him, who is
sault the man beside him for not hearing it. But presently taking notes in an unconcerned manner,
soon he loses the capacity to think as the tapping is runs off the train and, rushing through the station,
now loud enough to prevent him from hearing his quickly vanishes in the cold evening leaving both
own thoughts. His mind is filled with the rhyth- his bag and his coat on the train.
mic tapping and his body becomes a vessel of pure

9

PHILOSOPHERS, OBITUARIES,
AND THE NATURE OF RAGE

by Sam Green

Reading obituaries of philosophers is a particu- positivism while lighting a cigarette with a match.
A contemporary cigarette-wielding intellectu-
larly effective way of procrastinating: it is never al with similar levels of charisma is Christopher
entirely irrelevant to the philosophy one should be Hitchens. He is probably known to philosophy
studying. While posthumous collected works and students via some inroad into the network of ‘New
biographical notes contain windows into fascinat- Atheists’. His admirers describe him as an exqui-
ing lives, knowledge of a person’s dispositions and site orator and conversationalist. He read PPE at
their interpersonal interactions undoubtedly leads Oxford and was tutored in philosophy by Steven
to viewing their philosophy in different lights. This Lukes and Anthony Kenny. According to Richard
can lead to dismissal of their reasoning based on Miniter, the key to understanding ‘Hitch’ was re-
our theorizing about what motivated them to even alising that ‘his friends were a kind of aristocracy’
set out their arguments in the first place so as to that provided stimulating intellectual conversa-
reach a certain conclusion. One is then misdirect- tions for him. While working at Nation—before he
ed from the quality of the cold reasoning itself. sauntered in late in the morning—the journalist he
Nonetheless, let us not resist the joys of procrasti- shared his office with would have to take his calls
nation one more time. giving thanks for the dinner the night before. Once
THE WIT OF AYER Hitchens himself had finished replying to them, he
In the preface of one work are the words Ted Hon- would embark on phoning guests to meet them for
derich spoke at the funeral of A.J. Ayer, the log- lunch that day, followed by dinner with others.
ical-positivist philosopher. He tells us that Ayer Returning to philosophers-proper, Gilbert Ryle is
appeared to many who met him to be proud described as being ‘unstinting in his advice and
and precocious; that he was sincerely kind to his encouragement to generations of students’. Geof-
friends; and that he had a playful deviousness and frey Warnock described Ryle’s almost Janus-faced
sense of mischief that pervades the anecdotes told nature: he was ‘tolerant and uncensorious’ of col-
of him. leagues, but then became a formidable opponent
Lip service to Ayer’s encounter with heavyweight in debates. Ryle might scowl at the descriptor
boxer Mike Tyson at a Manhattan party seems to ‘Janus-faced’, which he employed in criticising the
be a staple of undergraduate education. An assault inexplicable duality that was present in a Cartesian
was said to be occurring in a bedroom, and Ayer conception of persons (specifically, a conception
diplomatically intervened to stop it. Tyson must used to describe the mysterious faculty that some-
have been an intimidating figure, saying to Ayer how translates knowledge of propositions into
when challenged: “Do you know who the fuck I an action intelligently performed). Ryle was said
am?”. Ayer responded with calm rationality, telling to have an intense dislike of pomposity, pretence
Tyson that with him being the former Wykeham and jargon—an extreme dislike of pointless pro-
Professor of Logic, they were both pre-eminent in fundity seems to be a recurring cause for adora-
their field, and so ought to ‘talk about it like ration- tion among philosophers. We are told that Richard
al men’. Rage was justly dissipated with calmness. Taylor, metaphysician and beekeeper, ‘could not
At school, Ayer’s matron once queried why anyone stand complacency, vanity or puffery’. To Ayer, too,
would make nuisance calls late at night. Well, it de- ‘sense’ was sufficient.
pends how much they didn’t like her, Ayer quipped. Indeed, for some philosophers it was smoking
His conversational abilities can be witnessed on which was the idiosyncratic habit-that-accompa-
film in his conversations with the late Bryan Ma- nied-lectures. Richard Taylor would wander in,
gee, in which he elegantly outlines logical sit on the desk, and light a cigar. Once these were

The Rage Issue | Φ 10

banned, it became a thermos of tea, while his dog previous film is premised on exacting revenge. On
Vanee would curl up on the floor in front of the who exactly is not clear, but on someone. In this
desk. Professor David Pears was said to require a way, rage becomes an insensitivity. It can motivate
glass of Guinness and two digestive biscuits before action, but it is debilitating, in that one experienc-
beginning his lectures. One of my lecturers who, es—despite, perhaps, a physiological heightening of
without fail, enjoys a carton of coconut water— one’s perceptual capacities—a moral blindness that
perhaps a habit suitable for the 21st century. cloaks everything. One loses the ability, as M tells
Then there is their social life, implied by some Bond, ‘to tell your friends from your enemies’.
obituaries as a hinterland of networking within the INSIGHTFUL RAGE
upper echelons, enabled by stellar conversational Bond is fiction, but there are real cases, of serious-
abilities. Pears is described as having been a ‘bril- ness, in which we find instances of rage that allow
liant raconteur, telling stories in so frank and dis- insight, rather than blindness. The contrast in priv-
ingenuous a way that it was hard to tell, and hardly ilege to the following cases is noted, but not the in-
seemed to matter, whether they were true or not’. tended point of comparison.
Ryle was ‘remembered as an entertaining conver- Philosopher Amia Srinivasan makes the case for a
sationalist’. Alongside Ayer’s Tyson confrontation, certain kind of anger. For anger does not always
we are told ‘there are endless stories like this about blind people, and is ‘at its best’ when it allows
Ayer’s charm, nerve and dazzling improvisation. people to see clearly. Specifically, anger can be an
BLIND RAGE emotional response to a moral failing in the world.
There is the sense of Ayer being an outsider. Ayer Srinivasan draws attention to how the rage felt by
worked for MI6 during the war. And, indeed, on Malcolm X gave expression to the pain and suffer-
a closer inspection of his character, one can’t help ing that black Americans experienced. The cam-
noticing a remarkable affinity to the character of paign of Malcolm X differed from Martin Luther
James Bond—even to those faults that the modern King’s. King thought that a politics of anger would
007 franchise has been forced to address. For in- not be effective. Furthermore, many view Malcolm
stance, Spurling writes that Ayer ‘had an insatiable X as a ‘rabble-rouser’ who did not act in support
drive to seduce women coupled with frank inabil- of the emancipation of black persons. Images, such
ity to take them seriously as equal human beings.’ as the image of the ‘angry black man’ or the ‘angry
And there were many women in Ayer’s life. Aged woman’, convey that the person is governed by an-
just 18, he arrived at Christ Church College with ger rather than reason. Many people dismissed the
a mistress. rage of Malcolm X.

In Casino Royale (2006), Vesper gives her ‘reading’ We can distinguish two ways in which rage relates
of Bond upon their initial meeting: ‘By the cut of to perception. It can alter the perception of the
your suit, you went to Oxford. But you wear it with person experiencing the rage by giving them literal
such disdain…You were at that school by the grace heightened sensitivity. Increased adrenaline levels
of someone else’s charity, hence the chip on your dull sensations of pain and sharpen their senses.
shoulder.’ Ayer, too, Spurling tells us, ‘needed to Less literally, rage might make them more willing
assert himself by proving and re-proving’ his own to file innocent actions under the description of
worth. Ayer had the more positive Bond charac- ‘threat’. This even applies to long-term festering
teristics as well, his Eton upbringing leaving him rage, where semblances of rationality are still at
extremely ‘self-reliant’ later in life. play. In bursts of rage, though, rational thought is
The story arc of the Bond portrayed by Dan- put on the back burner. This is not incidental: rea-
iel Craig is defined by rage. At the end of Casino soning inhibits the ability to fight or fly.
Royale (2006), Bond finds his true love, Vesper. Rage can prompt us to reconsider how the rageful
His witnessing of her brutal death, having trusted think things ought to be and to identify the cause
and then been betrayed by her, completed the for- of their rage. The person experiencing the fight-or-
mation of the hardened, cold killer that audienc- flight response need not use their reason to explain
es know and love. By Quantum of Solace (2008), the functioning of their fight-or-flight mechanism:
Bond’s hardened character becomes problematic, ‘Anger can be a reasonable response to an unrea-
with M telling him that he is ‘so blinded by incon- sonable world,’ as Srinivasan puts it. An observer
solable rage’ that he doesn’t care who he hurts. It can infer that the person is being threatened from
becomes apparent that the character forged in the the expression of the rage (reason-ridden in itself).

11

Sometimes dismissing rage can be the just action; The Party Was Here Long Before U Got Here by Maya Twersky
sometimes such dismissal would constitute an injus-
tice.
CONCLUSION
It seems the philosopher of the obituaries knows how
to switch their behaviour between two different are-
as of life tactfully: they have an unwillingness to tol-
erate any flamboyance or pomp in the professional
sphere but this is counterbalanced by a sincerity and
kindness in one’s personal relations. Plainly, these
qualities are not juxtaposed arbitrarily; but I think
getting gritty in argument gives one a competence
elsewhere in life. The point is something like that
made in Plato’s Republic (Book I): that the skilled
manufacturer of safes is probably rather skilful at
breaking into them. Likewise, perhaps the habit of
applying scrutiny also allows one to revoke it more
sensitively in certain contexts.
Naively, I used to think that philosophers were re-
currently praised in their obituaries for pleasant-
ness, wit, and conversational abilities because they
showed niceness to a level beyond that possessed by
non-philosophers. I’m sure this is the case for most.
Though I suspect it would be more accurate to say
that this feature is recurrent because they kill argu-
ments by trade, and have a highly efficient, remarka-
bly attuned ability to perceive inconsistencies.
Both the philosopher of the obituaries and the var-
ious kinds of rage—the illuminating and blinding
kinds—involve encountering a difference between
two ways of seeing things. If convinced of the cor-
rectness of their own position, a philosopher might
remain ‘unstinting in debates’, as Ryle was, to achieve
willing assent on both sides. Ryle, however, would
shift to conforming himself to the opposing view-
point, something which is surely required when of-
fering ‘genuine encouragement’ of an opposing view
whilst fundamentally disagreeing with it. Similarly,
one would be deluded to compare the instance of Ty-
son’s rage with the prolonged and insightful rage of
Malcolm X. My only conclusion is that rage is not a
simple phenomenon, requiring one kind of response.
And I suspect that the truly admirable thing—that
thing which is praised in obituaries—is being skilful
in how one chooses to proceed when one encounters
misalignments in ways of seeing the world.

The Rage Issue | Φ 12

13

ECONOMY CLASS

by Aron Gyenge, art by Cveta Gotovats

On board a plane, at one of the largest inter- Paul shivered in the cool breeze of the A/C, his
head was hot. ‘So, we humans must have a different
national airports in the country, things came to a system of values to animals: Values that reflect our
halt. Although the boarding was relatively quick, essence. Values whose possession brings the uni-
the plane was kept on the ground for a disturb- verse to euphoric exclamation: “Voilá, un homme!”
ingly long time. The drowsy humming of the en- But no, sadly the world is not composed on such
gines suddenly ceased and was replaced by clusters grounds, and you could very well collapse from ex-
of muttering and coughs. After a while, the pilot haustion riding in the back of an ambulance car 6
announced the reason for the delay he had been days a week for a heavily-taxed minimum wage—
given by the flight-control team. The tension and in a Western capital, of course. Or you could sim-
sarcasm in his voice reflected his annoyance and ply starve to death in an ill-financed humanitarian
doubts about his colleagues’ competence. Paul mission to a country where people wear towels on
was anxiously looking out his window at the shiny their heads. You could have a heart of gold and
concrete surface of the airstrip. He hated all this still be worth only your viable organs... And guess
waiting, and it kept happening every single time what, one of the most highly valued trading secrets
when he flew somewhere. It was still morning, is the herb mixture used in KFC’s batter. A recipe
but the rays of the sun were already scorching the for £3.99 chicken wings!
earth and bathed it in amber heat. As intended, the ‘Epidemic diseases, child labour, global warming,
acrylic triplets of the plane’s window panes proved wars, rising rates of teenage suicides. Finding a
sufficient to fend the high-temperatures off. The solution to exactly none of these is a viable busi-
only source of heat inside the cabin seemed to be ness plan. Are these issues too monumental? Or
Paul’s nauseous headache. He had not eaten nor the target audience too poor for it to be profitable?
drunk since waking up, and he felt a heavy pres- Or both? It would not really matter,’ he thought.
sure all over his body. He wanted to dissolve in the ‘So, what do we value instead, and flatter ourselves
warm embrace of the day. with as the supreme species? Finding the ideal
He squinted as he helplessly tried to make out the herb mixture for mass produced fried chicken.
airport and control-tower in the thick, hot air. But We struck gold here! Well done, we did create the
it was all too hard. The heat twisted vision and best of all possible worlds! Leibniz is surely smiling
made the world wavy and viscous. It reminded him somewhere. Everyone should just really pat them-
of a dense Persian carpet—very familiar and dis- selves on the back. You too, you fuck in the control
tant. A carpet in his father’s living room, decorated room! Give us the signal already!’ He fired his an-
by his Siamese cat’s sratches. ‘The tiny brute would gry, dazed gaze towards the tower, but nobody in
just sit in the middle of the carpet and pierce its there could have listened to his thoughts, so Paul
claws through the fabric in a repetitive manner,’ re- continued to himself. ‘And to top it off, it is a recipe
called Paul. ‘My father tried to educate the animal that most likely will give you bowel cancer in 12
with a knock on its nose whenever it was caught. months of regular consumption.’
The outcome was remarkable. In just 3 weeks of ‘So, what do you do then? Visit a GP, of course,
rigorous regulation the cat never went on the car- whose only marketable value was their high func-
pet again, but it kept scratching it. Only this time, it tioning brain paired with a deep commitment to
would do it from the side of the carpet. Numerous help others; not an herb mixture. A fucking recipe.
other attempts were made to get the cat to quit its And so, after they have tripped you on the Calvary
destructive and unseemly habit; however, the an- of modern medicine, and have successfully radiat-
imal remained dumb. It simply could not under- ed the life out of your rotting guts, your new, cured
stand the dense, complex rituals, cultural context,
and perplexing spatio-temporal causes that lent
the carpet its value.’

The Rage Issue | Φ 14

self, will shower them with kindness and affec- 87 minutes into the flight, 30,000 feet high with
tion. Words and gestures of deep gratitude that do -45°C outside: Paul woke up to ideal weather
not translate to the cost of fried chicken. Things conditions and a vacuum sealed croissant,
that are not attainable in the realms of high value. with a bottle of sparkling water
Things that are way too humble and precious to kindly placed on the plastic
be labelled as such... Have I just come full circle? tray in front of him.
Touché!’ Paul thought, ineffectively massaging his
pumping forehead. ‘Life is truly beautiful in its
sincerely confused manner.’
‘They always talk about historical forces, obscured
Hegelian ideas piled up in immovable triads of
logic and consequence. But it is we who make this
world—the people. People against the weather,
against conflict, against technology, against ter-
mination. My father could not command his pet
but he could command a respectable life. A life
of sentiments, of values, virtues and decisions. Of
unique experiences. Of immeasurable and unex-
plainable price. And none of this matters. Too bad
that all our faces gonna melt off... maybe not to-
day, but in a few decades’ time… What an abso-
lute waste; every-single-miserable-soul.’
He rhythmically shook his head in empa-
thy. A pearly veil of sweat had developed
over his face. His knees were shaking
and his head was pounding relentless-
ly. He concentrated hard to take a long,
deep breath. In this tranquil moment,
he sighed emptily ‘‘Tis money that gets
the world going.’ Just as he uttered these
magic words, the engines fired up. ‘And it
is my money that makes the plane get go-
ing,’ he thought.
The pilot, eager to take matters into his own
hands, announced that they received the sig-
nal for takeoff. He floored it even before the
plane made its turn onto the strip. Paul lost his
thoughts and himself in the mechanic scream-
ing of the turbine on the other side of his
window while the shock of inertia
pushed him back in his seat.
He envisioned his migraine
burning in the glowing hell
of the twin-engines. The
wheels lifted from the
tarmac. His blood sugar
was low, and his nau-
sea high enough to
make him faint.

15

EL VERANO TORMENTA Subconscious Radiation by Antonis Koukoutsis

STORMING SUMMER

by Bruno Riquelme

En la ciudad no hay estrellas.
Yacen dormidas en el ruidoso día,
salen a oscuras, abrazando al caudal
del desbordado tráfico.
Hay luces que prometen una puerta, unas
paredes entre ellas y el ruidoso día.
Dudando volver, riegas las plantas demás
y enderezas el cuadro que siempre se inclina.
Las gotas se funden al mar afuera,
sube y baja la marea en furor, marcan
su camino en destellos de aerosol neón.
Verdes, negras y rojas forman su rabia en arrollo.
En la ciudad hoy hay estrellas.
Salen dueñas del ruidoso día,
inundan las calles de gritos y tambores,
truenan por quien las arrancó del cielo.

***
There are no stars in the city.
They lie asleep in the noisy day,
They rise in the dark, hugging the stream
of overflowing traffic.
There are lights that promise a door, some
walls between them and the noisy day.
Doubting your return, you overwater the plants
and straighten the frame that always tilts.
The drops flow into the sea outside,
the tide rises and ebbs furiously, marking
their path in bursts of neon aerosol
Green, black and red stream an overwhelming wrath.
Today there are stars in the city.
They rise owners of the noisy day,
They flood the streets with cries and drums
They thunder for who ripped them from the sky.

The Rage Issue | Φ 16

17

WITHIN GOES WITHOUT

by Diana Craciun, photography by Aneta Swianiewicz

“Come on, do it,” Todd tells Dean as he nods ‘jus-tice’, but he stops himself before it escapes into
the world. It tastes fake on his tongue, sour. What is
towards the crowd sprawling in front of them. it really about, anyway?
You see, Dean lost a bet – and not just any bet. He He thought it would be easy to reach the front, but
owes his friend big time, and it so happens that this sea of fervent people feels more like a swamp.
Todd’s spontaneous idea is to challenge him to The signs, the synchronised chanting and rising
join the protest in front of the Parliament. There fists, everything—the people are now one huge en-
are worse things his friend could make him do, but tity, with no beginning and no end. So, he decides
Dean can’t deny the discomfort budding within to stand still somewhere in the shapeless middle.
him. After all, he’ll have to spend up to an hour in a Awkward and still, he doesn’t know what to do
furious crowd, protesting against God knows what. with his body. He doesn’t want to chant, nor does
“Fine,” he says as he turns away from Todd’s annoy- he want to stand out. He shifts his gaze from person
ing grin and towards the sea of people. to person, hoping to find somebody as confused as
Two raindrops splash against his cold cheeks, crawl him, someone who hasn’t been absorbed by the
past his agape mouth and vanish from his confused crowd yet.
face. What now? To his disappointment, everybody looks deeply
Well try to get to the front of the crowd—if he is involved. Despite the rain splashing against their
to do something, he’ll at least try to make the best windbreakers, they all look ahead, brows furrowed,
of it. Ritualistic chants reverberate through the air and chins lifted. Clearly, he’s the outlier. He wishes
and flood his mind as he tries to squeeze through he could be somewhere alone, maybe on a moun-
the numerous figures in dark windbreakers: tain peak, maybe in his bedroom, where he could
“What do we want?” at least hear his own thoughts. But he’s not the type
“Justice!” to give up. Plus, Todd would be vicious.
“When do we want it?” Looking around, he spots a rather short woman
“Now!” dressed in white, carrying the same sign with unu-
Without realising it, Dean’s mouth forms the word sual geometrical forms like everybody else. He taps
her on the shoulder.

The Rage Issue | Φ 18

“Yes?” she abruptly brings her tired lips together, Dean looks at the time. It’s only been twenty min-
somewhat thankful for this intervention. utes, though they felt more like two hours. He starts
He got her attention, but what should he do next? chanting again, weary of appearing rude to those
Revealing he’s an outsider would be like admitting around him. But the man’s words keep circling
he doesn’t care for their cause. Or is he overthink- around his mind. Is anger really connected to what
ing this? “Erm…I was wondering what you guys you think is wrong? Maybe he doesn’t think this sit-
are protesting about.” Ashamed, he averts her gaze. uation is wrong enough, then.
And then comes the explanation: “I see. Well, […]” “What do we want?”
“Oh, I had no idea.” His eyes widen and he’s left “JUS-TICE!”
speechless. He can’t believe that what these people Thirty minutes in. Tired of staring into space, Dean
are fighting for affects him, too. He’s heard this dis- turns towards the parliament building. His gaze
cussed many times before, but he didn’t bother to wonders from window to window, curious if any-
consider its implications at all. Now that he thinks body is even watching. Sure enough, he finds some-
about it, it is frustrating. Quite unjust even. But is it body—though it may have been better if he didn’t.
bad enough to protest? His eyes stumble upon a rather elderly man—prob-
With a soft smile, the woman turns back to her ably some well-known politician, he couldn’t tell.
original spot and resumes shouting. Like a machine This man’s expression betrays utter disgust. He sim-
stopped only to change its batteries. ply scoffs at the crowd, and vanishes somewhere
Dean’s eyes are still plastered on her as his mind behind the thick walls separating him from the
wonders. There’s something about the gap between people. This enrages Dean.
the cause they’re fighting for and their attitude that The fact that this injustice exists is one thing, but
just doesn’t register with him. Surely, they could how could one fix it if the very people fighting for
just sign a petition? Or maybe talk to MPs? Write it are ignored? Dean’s heart beats faster, he drips
strongly worded letters? with sweat, not even the rain, nor the cold, matter
After letting out a big yawn he decides to push at this point; his mind is sharp, aware of every little
ahead; he finally reaches the front. thing around him. And he bursts in bouts of ‘jus-
The people here are different, more involved. Mark- tice’ like he’s just learned the word for the first time.
er scribblings on their bright red cheeks, badges all His words flow better, his tone is right. Is he finally
over their coats, and larger signs. Their bodies look merging with the crowd, or merely standing up for
tense—primed for a fight. Indeed, these people himself ?
look like they are going to war. This joy is cut short with one sound: a police siren.
This time he doesn’t have a choice: he joins in the Dean never considered that not all protests are le-
chants. His words are there, but empty. The sounds gal.
leaving his mouth linger like the heat of a torrid “I suggest you leave right now, curious guy. They
day. It’s only natural. After all, he doesn’t really care. won’t hesitate to arrest, you know,” the bearded
But somebody does care. Or is curious, at least. man interrupts Dean’s chain of thoughts.
“Hey, mind if I ask you something?” a bearded man Dean tries to squeeze past the people around him,
shouts over the thickening sounds of the crowd. heading away from the police. His arms brush
“Sure,” Dean furrows his brows, wondering what against protesters marching the other way and he
this stranger could want from him. feels their intimidating eyes and deafening roars.
“I went to plenty of protests in my life, but I’ve nev- Why is he the only one cowering away? Why are
er seen a face as indifferent as yours. How can you they risking so much? Whatever these people are
not get drunk on the emotions of the crowd? The after, he doesn’t stay around to find out.
moment I step in, whatever I feel gets amplified be- It’s evening now; tense and restless, he paces
yond what I could normally feel on my own. You around his bedroom with nothing to do. Why can’t
look as if you barely feel enough for one.” he bring himself to turn the TV on and see what
Taken aback, Dean chooses his words carefully: happened?
“Well I’m only here out of curiosity, not out of any He already knows. It’s just a matter of how many—
particular dedication. I tried, but I simply can’t how many wound up arrested? How many will have
share this anger that fuels you. It feels fake.” to pay with their present and future for somebody
“Doesn’t matter why you came here. What angers else’s cowardness? For the cowardness of those pol-
you is what you think is wrong. So why aren’t you iticians, of the police, of the people who chose not
angry?” to care. And for his.
“I don’t know,” he says honestly.

Without any other words the man goes back to his But the question is, what will he do from now on?
chants. The answer is in his heartbeat.

19

The Rage Issue | Φ The Party Was Here Long Before U Got Here by Maya Twersky

20

THE MYTH OF HER

by Evelina Engelaityte

mother earth
his love
his shelter
nurturing, abloom
her womb
torn open
to bear his seeds
sprout them
plucked and ploughed
burnt in spring
tired tired tired
mother earth
under his feet
smothered in asphalt
made easy to walk over
fought over and
spat on
violated under her
heavy makeup
made gorgeous her carnage
glittering
littered
earth
desolate
the myth of her
the wrath of her
consumes all
floods all
their eyes
rejoices in their cries
dried out of compassion.

21

LOBSTERS, INCELS, AND THE GOOD LIFE

DON’T BASE YOUR LIFE ON 12 ARBITRARY RULES

by Maria Payro, art by Renée Bertini

The patron saint of Incels and men’s rights activ- to create an even greater problem when the author
is, at the time of writing this, in rehabilitation to
ists, Jordan Bernt Peterson (JBP), felt it necessary to treat an addiction to Benzodiazepines. In 12RFL
write a 370-page, self-help book repeating 12 sim- he argues that you must risk being wrong if you
ple rules that he originally posted on Quora (with a want to have a peaceful conversation, you have to
relatively low engagement) answering the question be open to having your mind changed, but that is
‘How to make life more meaningful?’ 12 Rules for not a courtesy that he extended to trans people in
Life (2018), henceforth 12RFL, is incredibly con- his fervent opposition to Bill C-16, which extends
voluted, contradictory, and misleading. Often, it human rights to trans people in Canada, or for that
is difficult to tell whether Peterson means things matter anyone he disagrees with. That being said,
literally or metaphorically (he uses vagueness as a the fact that he does not follow his own advice does
strategy to have his cake and eat it too) dismissing not automatically make it bad advice, the ideas of
ideas as poetic descriptions when unable to justify many philosophers have been applauded by many
his points further. His explicit metaphors are no in spite their turbulent personal lives. The point
help either, Peterson is sometimes unclear what his is that Peterson entangles himself in rhetoric and
rambling tangential anecdotes and religious dog- relatability to then recommend arbitrary injustic-
ma are trying to convey. es, strawman, and cherry pick views that oppose
I plan to address the contradictions I’ve encoun- his. Like he does to ‘postmodern Neo-Marxism’,
tered concerning Peterson’s views on power, hi- whatever that is , moral nihilism, relativism, and
erarchies, gender, religion and tradition in due feminism, mystifying them to the point where all
course, but I first want to make clear that there reality dissipates, and the illusion of a deep philos-
are plenty of things that he’s written and said that ophy is created.
I agree with. For instance, I genuinely believe that The most watched JBP interview of all time is a
all 12 rules, unfleshed, are timeless good sense. Channel 4 News debate on the gender pay gap,
Standing up straight, treating yourself with care, campus protests, and postmodernism, conduct-
surrounding yourself with people who want the ed by Cathy Newman as part of Peterson’s book
best for you, taking responsibility for yourself, be- tour in 2018. Some sections of the interview have
ing honest, attentive, precise in speech, respectful been uploaded to YouTube with titles such as ‘JBP
and not focused on suffering all the time, are, in Leaves Feminist Speechless’ and ‘JBP Decompos-
my opinion, good advice. But Peterson’s endless es/Destroys Feminst Reporter’. This interview
exposition, and what seems to me like pointless inspired thousands of YouTubers to analyse and
rambling, give these rules hidden meanings that deconstruct the debate, almost unanimously con-
slowly crawl themselves into the reader’s mind. He demning Newman’s approach and characterizing
packages what otherwise could have been a sincere Peterson as a destructive force to left-wing politics.
memoir with unjustified metaphysics and roman- But the relevance of most of the backlash has more
ticized philosophical thought. to do with how not to interview someone. How-
Furthermore, I don’t intend to resort to ad hom- ever, the attention it received, 18 million views in
inems, but for a man who routinely criticizes others one year, solidified his online presence and greatly
as hypocrites, it ought to be noted that JBP seldom boosted the sale of his book. His ideology, regard-
follows his own rules. Rule 6, ‘Set your house in or- less of whether he claims to have one or not, was
der before you criticize the world’, has in it a claim endorsed by many supporters of personalities like
about fixing one’s self before advising others to do Ben Shapiro, Joe Rogan, and Carl Benjamin (aka
so, otherwise the result would be ‘harm stemming Sargon of Akkad), earning him a spot as part of the
from ignorance’. This sheds light into the contra- Intellectual Dark Web, as coined by the economist
dictory nature of the self-help author, as does his Eric Weinstein—a loosely organized group f online
constantly asserted notion ‘don’t assume someone personalities who fervently oppose what they per-
else knows your needs better than you do’. It seems ceive to be the dominance of identity politics and

The Rage Issue | Φ 22

political correctness in modern life. prove how things that are old have inherent value.
Jordan Peterson’s philosophy, if there exists such a But Peterson spends several pages exemplifying
thing, is based on his Taoist-inspired conceptions how organisms interact with their environments
of Order and Chaos. These categories provide only and vice versa, mainly attacking those he calls
the illusion of profundity, and are loosely justified ‘eco-activists’, whom he claims envision nature
in terms of an incongruent accordance with Tao- as harmoniously balanced and perfect but never
ism. Taoism, as originally conceived by Zhuang identifies who makes this argument or if someone
Zhou, specifically condemned Confucianism be- did. ‘Because nature is what it selects,’ he writes,
cause it emphasized rituals, hierarchical social ‘the longer a feature has existed the more time it
order and conventional morality, all of which has had to be selected and to shape life,’ and some-
Peterson stands for. Although he uses the philo- how, it follows that ‘there is little more natural than
sophical authority of Taoism, his own philosophy culture’. Peterson’s social conservatism is strongly
is nothing like it. He characterizes Order as inher- manifested in his case for the importance of so-
ently masculine and Chaos as inherently feminine, cial hierarchies, badly disguised as a psychological
which no Taoist does, and provides the reader with conclusion.
several pages of examples that fail to serve as jus- There’s only so much that can be said about Jordan
tification of this arbitrary categorization. For in- Peterson before it becomes necessary to talk about
stance, order is ‘social structure, explored territory, lobsters. Peterson shows that antidepressants work
and familiarity’ as opposed Chaos, which is ‘when on lobsters because they have similar serotonin
you suddenly find yourself without employment, patterns to humans, and claims that this is highly
or are betrayed by a lover.’ His conception of Or- connected to their aggressive social behaviour. He
der and Chaos rely greatly on his own beliefs about claims that Prozac works on lobsters because the
masculinity and gender. There is no justification as molecule is the same and the nerve terminals are
to why the gender distinction ought to be made very similar, so the drug does what it was designed
in these categories in the first place—if not to per- to do. Because of this, he analyses how lobsters
petuate scripts of ‘gender normalcy—or why their arrange themselves into hierarchies of gender,
genders are relevant in the first place. naturally so, and concludes that it is therefore nat-
The sort of justifications he does provide to show ural in humans to do so as well, because seroto-
that this duality manifests itself is, ‘we already nin drives social interactions. But Peterson’s jump
know all of this, but we don’t know that we know from the animal world to the human world is an
it.’ Which is why his work has been dismissed by age-old trick that has been used to popularise dis-
many psychologists as scientifically retrograde. tinctions between the male and female bodies. Our
Order and Chaos are hovering over all 12 Chap- last common ancestor with lobsters was 350 mil-
ters, never really proving anything beyond the lion years ago—the first animal that developed an
benefits one could reap from living less chaotically, intes-
by organizing their life to reduce stress and anxie-
ty. If Peterson’s formulation of order and chaos are
subjective, which based on the broadness of exam-
ples seem to be the case, then Meaning and Being
and Jordan’s Path to Happiness are all subjective
as well. Peterson’s rhetorical fashion, the capital-
ization of and ingrained meaning into common
nouns, his hasty generalizations based on anec-
dotes and unjustified emphasis on sexual catego-
rization in a metaphysical manner, all fail to stand
up to philosophical scrutiny.

His support for social hierarchies based
on biological distinctions is discon-
certing. Because natural distinctions
become habituated into the environ-
ment, according to Peterson, the en-
vironment ‘naturally’ creates hierar-
chies and traditions, such as faith,
family, gender and age. It doesn’t
necessarily follow that traditions
should be upheld because they
are traditions, and he doesn’t

23

tine, our closest physical feature to the brainless His ethical claims are a greedy mixture between
crustacean. utilitarianism and deontology and are neither
But Peterson uses The Lobster Case to argue that original nor justified. His questionable choice and
hierarchies in animal societies are based on the use of philosophical catchphrases and name-drop-
natural dominance of alpha-males. He character- ping, mask his messy and purposeless arguments.
izes success for male lobsters as material or terri- He dismisses Rousseau’s social contract theory by
torial advantage, and success for female lobsters as misinterpreting his conception of the noble savage,
access to males, then extrapolates this to human not by rebutting his argument that man in the state
societies without any concrete justification. These of nature has no conception of morality and there-
assumptions and claims, which he rarely follows fore cannot be immoral. Peterson matter-of-factly
up on, and often contradicts in interviews, make concludes that ‘human beings are evil, as well as
up his argument against identity politics and the good, and darkness will dwell forever in our souls’
feminist conception of ‘patriarchy’. Changes in the and that ‘everyone is a school shooter at their core.’
behaviour of lobsters, both because of serotonin These statements are bizzare, firstly because it is
presence and reproductive patterns, build a sort perplexing how he chooses to bring in Rousseau’s
of path to Peterson’s arguments for enforced mo- state of nature as opposed to Hobbes’, whose con-
nogamy and gender socialization. Yet at the same ception is more similar to his. But secondly, and
time, his quasi-intellectual cover for misogyny is more importantly, behind his quasi-intellectualism
cemented in his denial of the existence of the patri- Peterson has a dreadfully serious message. His ob-
archy. And while it is true that the gender pay gap session with upholding Western civilization and
is more of an attack on motherhood than it is on the idea of objective truth stems from the fear that
women, Jordan’s claims that because men invent- the agenda of progressive politics is to destroy in-
ed menstrual products and have historically held dividual freedoms and collapse what he considers
jobs that have greatly impacted the environment, to be a stable social system. Essentially, anything
(builders, engineers, stonemasons), then the patri- that questions that status quo is, according to Pe-
archy as a hierarchy of power simply does not ex- terson, a Postmodern Neo-Marxist conspiracy.
ist. And because it doesn’t exist, feminism is about Peterson’s answer to the question of how to live
women gaining power over men. But there is no one’s life is too entangled to specify. He sees reli-
explanation in 12RFL as to why ‘socially construct- gion, specifically Christianity, as ‘an end to all evils’
ed hierarchies’ are not real, and there is little en- and the core of everything, quoting the Bible re-
gagement with any of the ideologies he strawmans. lentlessly and treating the text as incomprehensible
But at the core of his worldview is the idea that so- to humans because of its holiness. As an intellec-
ciety is already organized in the best way possible, tual, he allows his own mind to question the status
and that altering our ways of social being or our quo, but doesn’t extend the same courtesy to the
traditions in the name of diversity causes more reader. Peterson seems to assume that the only al-
harm than good. This is why white nationalists ternatives to religion are anarchy and nihilism. But
took a liking to his claims and many pledged their it is from the development of secular ethics, like
support to him. But broadening the scope of equal Kant’s conception of duties and rights and Ben-
treatment to all has been a valuable part of phil- tham’s happiness principle, that Peterson’s draws
osophical and social thought since the eighteenth his arguments in the first place.
century. Recognition that transgender people have But agreeing with Jordan Peterson is inevitable.
been subject to harassment and violence justifies His psychological knowledge is well grounded,
extension of human rights protections to them. and his professorial lectures are an interesting, if
He upholds some golden age traditions under the misleading, introduction to the field of behaviour-
claim that they function as an authority to regulate al psychology. The tone is personal and caring and
‘a society of monsters.’ His support for child abuse exactly what you would expect from a practicing
is an example of this. Whilst he doesn’t delve into psychologist. Many of his statements are superfi-
corporeal punishment, he sees violence as innate cial, common sense. And he inserts his own opin-
to humans, peace as the mystery- and discipline of ions easily into the text because so much of it slides
children as essential to the process of socialization. down so easily. Peterson wants to offer you a utopic
Further into his work he claims that the disappear- solution to the conflict between power and systems
ance of abuse across generations is a testament to of belief through ‘the deployment of the individu-
‘the genuine dominance of good and evil in the al’. But in reality, he is offering you nothing more
human heart,’ showing that his advice and thought than his own factified opinion. Reading philoso-
processes are incredibly contradictory. Moreover, phy feels like taking steps up a staircase as argu-
Peterson’s psychiatric paternalism is meant to en- ments build on each other to create meaning and
courage the reader to live a life aimed at personal draw conclusions, but reading and watching JBP
satisfaction. This often implies using other people feels like ambling in a flat, sweltering desert—do it
as a means to an end, as opposed to ends in them- for long enough and you may start to think you’ve
selves. found a staircase.

The Rage Issue | Φ 24

THE CALL

by Chiara Zucchelli,
art by Herin Kim

The words reflect off telephone poles,

off a satellite dish;
they travel a million miles, just to reach me.
And beamed up and down as they are,
I beg for them to reflect off me,
and be beamed back up to you. Repeated,
over and over, in a soft metallic rumble -
crescendoing, until your ears bleed.
They would be the first tears I’d see from you,
And they would be enough.

25

WHETHER
CREATURES OF

BECOMING
DREAM OF
BECOMING
CREATURES
OF BEING;
OR, HOW
DID WE EVER
THINK OUR
SACRIFICES

WOULD
ULTIMATELY
BE IN VAIN?

by John Dorsch,
art by Teresa Satterthwaite

The Rage Issue | Φ 26

Behold: black forests of measure,

Lit solely by monochrome moonfire,
One encounters here, deep beneath
Needle branching cones, much difficulty
Discerning the contours of one's own hands.

Mouth feigns lips and tongue tips,
Words forge, only wish: smoke wisps.
Crackling dreams of being move muscles
Pushing them, pulling them, twisting them,
Impulse absorbed and thus lost to the dark soil
Below, upon which we dwell, albeit wholly foreign.

Remaining: fog of word & sound,
Giving distinct life to ink particles,
Becoming fragility and vulnerability,
Becoming now our lucid dream of being.

Brought to the forest's wide clearing,
Where glass waves do kiss and adore,
Shore of possibility - we might waver.
And the cliffs of actuality will collapse,
Crumble, like so many discarded pages.
Behold: a life of cyclic reverberation,
Divergent, spent only ever becoming,
Disclosing, only ever dreaming of being.
Now, though beyond waking borders, this
Mortal life is, though unbound by materiality,
Temporality becoming, condemned to remain.

Meat, Will Rattles.
Boney Cage, Will Shakes.
Furious Fists, Will Battles.
Predispositions, Will Annihilates.
Despite the shards of our emerging-between harrowing
Moments of their roots; despite our dreams unfurling
Tapering cliffs and our hopes heaving only tempting
Illusions: Thought, Ink, & Metamorphosis,
Conquering becomes by that loss fuelled,
Whose sur'passed limits Will is gained,
While world's rage becomes pulsed
Into each becoming mortal's veins,
Our wide & wild azure spheres,
Unabashedly seeing, owning,
The uplifting & the faltering,
Of a life only becoming,

On the precipice of,
On the edge of,
Being.

27

The PTahretyRWagaesIsHseuree|LoΦng Before U Got Here by Maya Twer2sk8y

29

tonis KoukoutsisABEYANCE
art by An
by Nash Metaxas

steaming cement, lacklustre grey
drips on the keys
Schubert like, yet
the absence of a man’s rhetoric or reason
is as opaque as
the sediment atop my hands,
frozen in an amorphic stance-
a figure in the rain, awaiting a divine refrain,
a reason to unfurl the umbrella
in the intersection of the heart, the different
feelings fly under the radar,
for the speed camera
misses the area;
emptiness correlates to misery
blankness to ambiguity,
and even the lamplight of the mind
can’t see clarity
in the dead of night
in the grey of sky
arms flapping like fish
yet hands silent as stone,
cease to exist
skin ripping, peeling
from my fingers like a tangerine
to scratch the itch-
man towering in front of desk,
catapulting a chair,
vein beating does not stop to see
the impact
smacking the air
out of the situation

The Rage Issue | Φ 30

THE COLD IN YOUR EYES

by Jack Jones

I left her,
her stolen bike and
her slashed lock.
They must have had big cutters
(and a tiny cock)
take the bike, and with it
one hundred attempts on your life
every morning until they get you
back inside, handle it
with white knuckles, in cold
that feels like knives, and next to the cars
that ill and incompetent stream
strutting into the street, into the air,
like greed
let them do to you what they did to me.
Swerve into my lane
leave no room up the inside
let me squeeze up past your mirror;
once for others, now for them
let me peek in
at your admirable gawp
at your smoke and you
reclining into contempt
and some smug threat.
drown out my ear with your horn
and don’t really care
I sat back inside. Through the door,
through wiping the rain and grit
off my trousers and off my cheeks, I saw
the cold in your eyes, in your empty hands

31

The Rage Issue | Φ SANITY

by Richard Bachman,
photography by Herin Kim

32

“We live in the best of all possible worlds… listen to that soft, harmonious note that is the uni-
verse turning smoothly on its celestial gyros. Logic and sanity.” - Stephen King

In 1993, at East Carter High School in Kentucky, a ...And here lies the dichotomy of the artist. It may not
be the sort of killing that Thomas De Quincey spoke
student walked into his seventh-period English class, of in On Murder Considered as one of the Fine Arts,
brought out a .38-caliber revolver and shot his English but the principles are much the same. When you are a
teacher straight in the head. In 1997, a student from creator, everything is creation. Everything is art. You
Heath High School, also in Kentucky, opened fire on see things through the artist’s lens. And, if murder is
a group of eight praying students with a .22-caliber indeed considered as one of the fine arts, then it isn’t
pistol, killing three of them. These chilling events have long before artists take to the proverbial streets with
something in common, and no, it isn’t the devastating machetes, lead pipes and .38-caliber revolvers. Julia
effects of far-too-liberally enforced gun laws, or that Michaels, somewhat less eloquently, describes this phe-
they both occurred in the home state of the late, great nomenon in an interview for Billboard, explaining the
Colonel Sanders. motivation for her song, Happy.
But, anyway, I’ll get back to that. What this piece is
really about is artists. Poets, songwriters, novelists, “I feel like a lot of creative people do this thing where you
hopeless romantics, tortured spirits, masters of emo- feel like you do a lot of things to be inspired... Sometimes
tion, creators of endless imaginary worlds. Oh, how you’ll pick fights with somebody in order to write about
truly wonderful it must be to be an artist—to stare at it.”
an empty page and build a colourful universe for other I am concerned for the musicians, too rapt in the spot-
lonely souls to inhabit. lights of their mind to step outside and enjoy the sun-
We all need artists because, well, we all need art. Art is shine. I am concerned for the YouTubers, ruthlessly
timeless. It’s an escape. An outlet. A force to be reck- attacking their peers for a clickbait title and slightly
oned with. Art can make you fall in love and fall apart boosted ad revenue. And, without a doubt, I am con-
contemporaneously. Art can take you utterly out of re- cerned for the writers, plunging into self-dug pits of
ality whilst simultaneously opening your eyes to it. Me, despair just for the perfect metaphor. I must wonder if
I’m a too-much sort of person. I talk too much, drink Julia Michaels really does want to be Happy.
too much, laugh too much, punctuate too much. I fill My concern is offset only by the overwhelming sense
my insatiable mind with too much stuff and too many of unfairness I have in all of this. The artists provide
things, and I unleash my too-muchness into the world us too-muchers an indispensable service, but it’s seem-
like an unrelenting tsunami. Indeed, if it weren’t for art, ingly at our own expense. Are we so disposable? Then
I would be a so-so sort of person, or a just-right sort again, maybe we let it happen. Talk too much. Give
of person. Of course, there are plenty of people who too much. Love too much… But – wait a minute – you
would prefer a just-right person to a too-much person, created the too-much! You nurtured my curious mind
but I embrace too-much; I wear it like a badge of hon- and exposed the chambers of my heart just to crush
our. Give me too much of everything. So, thank you them like flowers between the pages of a book! To you,
artists, thank you for the too-much. artists, I say this: I am not a metaphor, I am a person.
But herein lies the rub; I am too-much, and part of be- Which brings me back to the East Carter High School
ing too-much is thinking too much. I’m a philosopher and Heath High School shootings. In the former, the
after all, so I A) cannot resist a good, old-fashioned shooter—Gary Scott Pennington—had just been giv-
debate, and B) am completely and laughably unable to en a bad grade on his midterm paper, an essay on the
settle on a firm point of view of anything at all. I’m sure novel Rage by Stephen King, by the English teacher he
there are advantages to seeing the ‘big picture’, but be- would go on to murder. In the latter, the same story.
ing a walking contradiction doesn’t often win you any In this instance, the shooter—Michael Carneal—had a
friends. Nonetheless, accordingly, I am thankful to art- copy of Rage in his locker. Rage has been connected to
ists, but I have my concerns too. Their reality is inextri- a handful of other incidents, but it was this final one
cably linked to the realm of fiction. Every thought and that caused the book to finally go out of print. King
every feeling is reduced to a tangible word on a page to acknowledges the role Rage may have played in these
be read and subscribed to and tattooed eternally on our tragic events, but maintains that “artists should not be
bodies. For a musician, everything is a line in a song to denied the aesthetic opportunity to draw upon their
be performed, for a YouTuber, everything is content to own culture”.
be ‘liked’ or ‘shared’, and, for a writer, everything is an It’s needless to say, but I’ll say it anyway, I am not com-
anecdote for the next Booker Prize-winning novel. For paring the gravity of YouTube drama with the gravity
an artist, there exists a veil of make-believe over what of school shootings. Still, the normative question of
is true and meaningful. “All the world’s a stage” said what is fair for artists to make is an intriguing one. I
Shakespeare. Well, as a matter of fact, it isn’t. Only an don’t think Stephen King should take responsibility
infinitesimally small portion of the world is actually a for the deaths associated with any of these shootings,
stage. There’s indeed a vast expanse of reality outside but I am nonetheless concerned about artists. I am too
the truly very few stages in the world. much, this I know for sure, but there is life outside of
There’s a song I quite like by Julia Michaels called Hap- too-much, and life outside of art; a whole world of bril-
py... “And sometimes I think I kill relationships for art I liant reality, in fact. I make sure to visit from time to
start up all this shit to watch them fall apart” time, and my god is the sky clear out there.

33

AFTER ALL

by Basil Benopoulos,
art by Antonis Koukoutsis

"I want to learn more and more to see as beautiful what is necessary in things; then I shall be one
of those who makes things beautiful. Amor fati: let that be my love henceforth! I do not want to
wage war against what is ugly. I do not want to accuse; I do not even want to accuse those who

accuse.”

(Die fröhliche Wissenschaft, 276)

"...long for nothing more fervently than this ultimate eternal confirmation and seal”
(Die fröhliche Wissenschaft, 341)

Friedrich Nietzsche

The sun appeared, and I woke up and went to the sea. I could not hear the rhythmless sounds of the
cicadas now but I felt the clasping movements of
beach. It was a small beach with no sunbeds and the fish around my body and quaked when a little
no people, and no sand, but with small pebbles and smelt bit my ear, mistaking it for food. I lay there
seaweed that had been washed ashore. I was warm for what seemed like an eternity of moments.
and I remembered my father, because he would A young woman dressed in a silk robe, reminis-
take me to the beach every morning, and we would cent of the orient, descended the stairs of the old
swim before I could have breakfast and I was hun- villa with a slow and continuous movement, like
gry. I acknowledged that he had set a precedent – I a leaf slipping off a tree’s branch. I did not notice
could no longer start a day here without floating on her. My eyes were dry and I could feel the salt dry-
the cold water. I was alone at the beach, and I could ing on my brows, so I went for a long dive and at-
hear the sound of silence and the sea; the sound tempted to reach the sandy bottom, but I couldn’t
of the pebbles as I walked to the very edge of the because it was too deep. I saw her silhouette as I
beach, near the stairs of the old villa. I felt numb, resurfaced for air. She was a beautiful girl, no more
and thought it was because of the bed. than twenty years old, and she took no notice of me
I soaked my ankles for a moment and then pushed as stood at the end of the beach. Then, she removed
myself into the sea. The water was calm and oily. her robe and hat, and I saw her thick blonde hair
A fish touched my toe, but it disappeared before shining under the sun. She swam in the opposite
I could see it from above. I crawled alongside the direction, and I could not see her because of the
shore until I reached the rock near the fig tree, and larger rocks of the bay.
then swam back to where I had started. I lay on I waited for a wave to push me to shore. I soaked
the water’s surface like an etherised patient, and for a little while and stood up and went for my
remembered Prufrock and my father who always things. I got my pipe, my lighter, and tobacco and
swam back to the fig tree for a second time while stood for a minute or two, trying to find the right
I waited. I opened my mouth to allow my breath spot, spinning around myself somewhat like a dog
to blend with the air while I floated for some time chasing its tail. I found the spot and rested on the
before sinking under the water. rock to dry and to smoke. I observed the opaque
I stuck my nose out, inhaled, and floated on the projection of the sun on the leaves of the fig tree,
surface again. I bent my knees and let my arms and listened to the exhausted rhythmic song of the
spread out and I closed my eyes, waiting for the cicadas (I found it to be rhythmic after all), and I
air to bubble out of my ears so I could hear the saw the water slide through the rocks and pebbles,

The Rage Issue | Φ 34

sculpting them into their current shape, and heard I said.
a distant motorbike running on the road above. I ‘Maybe we have.’ I didn’t speak.‘You know… some
smoked for twenty minutes and was satisfied be- people meet again and again without realising it.
cause I could smell the blend around my face and They just find themselves in the same places,’ she
feel the smoke around my dry skin, and I managed added.
a few puffs without relighting it. I remembered the ‘Like where?’
way my father smoked on that rock, and the way ‘Oh I don’t know, cafés, restaurants, the cinema,
he stared at the sea, so I stared at the sea without the beach…’ She let that sentence trail off.
thinking anything in particular. ‘But you’ve never been here before’ I asked again.
The beach was narrow and every pebble was the ‘No…’
same. The pebbles were there from the beginning. ‘And where do you actually live?’
And the old fig tree; I stared at the sticky green ‘Manhattan’ she said and threw some water on her
leaves and saw the ants digging silently into the face. ‘What about yourself?’
open figs. I could taste the figs even though I had ‘London,’ I said. I paused. ‘You just have one of
not had one yet. I felt the need to rinse my fingers those familiar faces, you know’ I said. ‘I really
in the sea to get rid of the juice, but I tended to my thought we’d met as kids or something.’
pipe instead, tamping down the tobacco with my ‘Maybe we’ve met in some other life.’
finger and relighting it. I heard the sound of me ‘I’d remember that.’
jumping into the sea from the rocks, screaming, ‘Apparently you do.’
splashing and repeating until I got called for lunch I didn’t speak. I looked at the sea, I sighed and light
or dinner. The tree seemed older now. my pipe. ‘Do you know eternal return?’ she asked
And this morning was the same as all the other me.
mornings. I thought maybe it was one of those ‘No I don’t think so.’
mornings I could actually get some work done, ‘It’s the idea that we live our lives again and again,
maybe two or three good pages before I leave. I felt even exactly the same lives. So maybe we’ve just
a strong need for a black Americano. met before in some other life and that’s why you
The woman’s hat and robe lay not very far from get that vibe.’
where I was. I had completely forgotten about her ‘That’s not what I meant,’ I said and looked back at
but they reminded me of her so I waited for her to the sea.
return. She appeared from the sea and walked out ‘Where are you staying?’ she asked.
with a slow and continuous movement, just like be- ‘Right behind the villa over there.’ I showed her.
fore. We were alone at the beach and we could only ‘Many summers?’
see each other. She was like Eve and I was Adam, ‘Many summers’ I said. ‘All summers.’
but she was staying at the old villa and I had to go. ‘Well if my family returns next summer, you’ll
She walked on the pebbles effortlessly and put on probably see me again,’ she said.
her robe. She sat next to the water and the sea ca- ‘Nah. My family’s selling the house. I came to pick
ressed her legs as she closed her eyes and stared at up some books and try to do some work. It’s quiet
the sun. I stared at her and I thought I knew her here for work. But I’m leaving today.’
well because she felt familiar all of a sudden. She touched the water with her hands and played
‘We must have met before’ I said. She didn’t re- with it. She stared at the rocks and at the old villa
spond, but she smiled, and turned her face towards behind her.
me, and looked at me for the first time. ‘How do you feel about it?’
‘Perhaps’ she said. She shrugged and smiled. ‘I don’t know’ I said. I didn’t feel like talking an-
I was certain that she was a figure from my past. ymore. The girl waited for a moment or two, and
Maybe a girl I had swam with the summer before then spoke again.
first grade. Played pirates or hide and go seek or ‘Amor fati’ she said.
something like that. I had seen that blonde hair ‘What?’
and those blue eyes. ‘Amor fati’ she said.
‘You come here every summer?’ I asked. She explained and I listened. The sea was restless
‘Actually it’s my first time here.’ She smiled. ‘My now,the wind moved the fig tree’s branches and
parents rented this house for a few weeks.’ some figs fell down and quashed the ants. I forgot
‘You sure?’ about the cicadas and the tobacco and I sensed that
‘I’m pretty sure,’ she replied and I could see that she it was time to go. I pictured a train reaching Penn
was amused by my questions. Station and I saw myself climbing the steps leading
‘I just had a strong feeling that we’ve met before,’ to 7th Avenue. Maybe if I saw her there she would
remember me and I could ask her out for coffee.
I felt like I still needed a black Americano after
all.

35

BREAKING DOWN FASHION
CONTRADICTIONS, PARADOXES AND TENSIONS
by Thomas Greengrass, art by Renée Bertini

Fashion is fundamentally ignorant—but bold. who died in 1982, the only apparent connection
being the name. On the other hand, an instance of
It’s an industry that’s perpetually driven to square a successful mixture of signature with contempo-
the circle. This grand interdisciplinary field is com- rary needs was Karl Lagerfeld, when he was direc-
posed of artistic visual designers, manufacturers, tor at Chanel. Lagerfeld embedded Chanel’s classic
marketers, history, business models, music, film white camellia flower, quilting and chain motifs
and celebrity. Fashion explores the problems and into contemporary cuts and fabrics. He paired the
methods of asserting one’s individuality, creativ- Chanel suit with leather and denim. He also took
ity and letting strangers see a part of one on first two feet off the traditional Chanel suit dress. There
sight. It is a gaseous realm—constantly shifting and are advantages to this historicity of course, because
transforming. What follows are brief reflections on it holds a reverence and aura, without being stuffy
some of the tensions and paradoxes in the fashion and dull. The standard thought is that Houses must
industry, in the hope of casting some light upon exist and must have a coherent signature. This al-
fashion’s goals and internal workings. lows designers to piggy-back on the shoulders of
THE HOUSE giants, but may also act as a ball and chain to cre-
The principal force of fashion is the fashion house ativity, or worse make a House defunct. Could the
or label. It’s here you discover the creative force, de- fashion world stand without Houses?
signers and manufacturers. A fashion house (ex.s THE INDIVIDUAL VS THE MASS
Givenchy, Gucci and Fendi) must strive to estab- Versace’s use of “Freedom” as a slogan and Lady
lish an identity that relates to contemporary beauty Gaga’s promotion of fashion’s ability to express
standards, whilst simultaneously looking forward individuality show its willingness to be the social
to tomorrow’s needs and recognising their past. locus of identity. Yet, it’s equally clear fashion ho-
They work out a feeling or need that’s bubbling un- mogenises, not only subcultures, but the trends
der the waters of culture, which they fill through dominant in the mainstream fashion world at any
their fashion innovations. But here begins a prob- one time. By saying this is “in,” or that’s “last sea-
lem. There’s a clash between what a fashion house son” there’s prescriptive encouragement for people
stands for—it’s way of responding to certain prob- to dress a certain way. This is all put against the
lems and past—and a mutable market, culture, lan- backdrop of celebration of the particular individ-
guage and need. The very reason for having a label ual—of your individuality. For the cynic, fashion,
was to fill a void, with the House’s unique way of authoritarian and anarchistic, homogenises idio-
filling that void defining its identity, but the fash- syncrasies.
ion world is always changing, creating new needs Even with a move away from top-down fashion
and desires. This tension between House and Mar- (dominated by the singular mind of the design-
ket means we often have Houses that fail to meet er) we’ve only moved towards the mixed influence
the needs of a changing fashion world. world where trends are set in part by: designers,
What happens when the change in the world is too instagram influencers, celebrities, musicians and
great? When the House’s answers and methods are films. Importantly, it wouldn’t even be enough for
simply silent? In those cases, it seems the House it to be a bottom-up system, in the form of trends
must either die, or become so different that its core growing organically from the streets or democrat-
has changed. ically. To be properly individual, it must be set by
Arguably the latter is exactly the case with Bal- the individual, and yet for it to be financially viable
main, with the current head of the House, Olivier and to have a common fashion discourse, it helps
Rousteing, establishing his own styles and motifs, to set the standards of “in” and “out” and produce
rather than those of the founder, Pierre Balmain, 10,000 identical items.

The Rage Issue | Φ 36

AUTHENTIC VS DESIGNED
A closely related issue is that of fashion being authentic for the
individual wearer, balanced against expressing the designer and/
or trends of the time. A simple way of trying to get around this
tension is by saying it’s authentic because you’ve chosen it. You’ve
selected it to represent and express yourself. However, the issue is
deeper than this.
A clear example of authentic fashion would be the original Lon-
don punks who would personally mix and match, tailor and alter
their clothes (London punk was principally a DIY, shock and ex-
pressionist movement, it was only later that punk’s image became
standardised with leather, chains and dyed Mohawks). They might
mix 60’s Teddy boy jackets with 50’s Brothel Creeper’s and a shirt
with an outrageous print on it to induce shock reactions. They felt
unnoticed and alienated, so they dressed to get noticed and re-
belled against any single coherent style that they didn’t put together
themselves. This is all good and to be commended, but it seems
that many buy brands because they have been associated with a
certain lifestyle, not because they’re sheep or it fails to express them
authentically. Polo is the paradigmatic example of a label that is
bizarrely static and doesn’t offer trends, but instead a lifestyle: an
old money, Ivy league/Oxbridge, yacht, champagne and leisure life-
style. Some people buy Polo because of this signature association to
a particular lifestyle as part of their authentic-
ity. By buying and wearing Polo they are
buying into a part of that lifestyle.
The truth seems to be that people do
partly express themselves by buying an-
other’s life- not only by simply selecting
to wear it. In the 1980’s, Ernestine Cart-
er, explained the success of Chanel as
based on Coco’s clothes being imbued
and associated with her life. People
would buy Chanel for Coco’s life. It
would permit them to be associated
with her lifestyle, as well as in part
getting that life by the association.
How all of this precisely works and
whether it exhausts the tension re-
mains to be seen.
ELITE vs. POPULAR
Another of fashion’s contradic-
tions is its appearance and rep-
utation for being elite and exclu-
sive, whilst being commercially
available. This forms a substan-
tial part of fashion’s business
and economic workings, as
well as its status in culture.
It’s how you get the boutique
rich Sloane Street in Knights-
bridge with the more com-
mercial Oxford Street that
has designer labels sold at

37

The Rage Issue | Φ Next and H&M. If taken charitably, one might think
fashion caters for all types and offers the best of both
worlds. On the other hand, it can be said to be fickle and
two-faced.
Fashion partly resolves this hypocrisy by distinguishing
exclusive, expensive collections of haute couture and
made-to-measure items, against mass market ready-to-
wear lines, with the labels themselves franchising and
diversifying in terms of clothing styles, functionality,
price and production. Take Armani, which has gone on
to produce sibling brands like Armani Jeans, Armani Ex-
change (popular street wear), EA7 (sportswear), as well
as Emporio Armani (more affordable Armani collec-
tion’s). This permits the Armani name and financial em-
pire to expand commercially, whilst retaining the pure
Armani name for exclusive collections- maintaining
its elitist reputation. Interestingly, Armani introduced
Armani Prive as a boisterous high-end, haute couture
selection with no more than roughly 6 of any single style
being produced. Offering another line of elite fashions
bolsters its elitist image, while expanding to high street
buyers with other sibling lines.
Looking elite, luxurious and exclusive, whilst also being
commercial and public, results in a smorgasbord of cre-
ativity, as well as generating a huge amount of wealth.
You’ve not only got the rich and famous buying (at high
prices), you’ve now got money coming in from the fash-
ion conscious high street shopper. The bottom line is
that this contradictory and hypocritical element of fash-
ion generates some of its huge economic status, but has
also caused some loss of fashion’s prestige amongst high
end buyers.
FINAL THOUGHTS
Fashion has the power to transform the dull, vibrant,
and breathtaking. The many tensions and paradoxes rife
in fashion are the very things that make it so interesting,
potent, and successful. Indeed, Rebecca Arnold in ‘Fash-
ion: A Very Short Introduction’ notes “fashion thrives
on contradiction”.
I do think that a grass roots approach could be taken to-
wards a narrow conception of fashion that would resolve
many of the more bizarre tensions and problems (most
not mentioned here) in fashion: Is fashion art? When is
clothing fashion? How do we properly understand the
individual against the many? And do we need fashion
Houses for fashion? All questions for another time. What
I hope is clear is that Anna Wintour, the editor-in-chief
of Vogue, was, at least partly, wrong when she said “you
either know fashion, or you don’t.’’ Fashion can be dis-
sected and understood. In fact, because fashion is filled
with fire and passion—with its visual aesthetics, social
relations, and economic energy—it’s never been more
useful and important to understand it’s mechanisms and
drives.

38

Art by Bia Nua

39

I BITE

by Gerardo Posada

It was Spinoza who said: ‘do not suffer, understand.’ Yet, I

turn into a suffering, rabid dog when I see the reactions of
contemporary men at the ancient rituals of the Nahuas—
those peoples who inhabited the most Western parts of
Central America and what is now known as Mexico.
No, delicate and fragile contemporary men! No, it wasn’t
that the Nahuas were a backwards and savage people (as
you have attempted to make everybody believe) that drove
them to human sacrifice. They had a whole range of subtle,
well-tailored philosophical views to ground such practices.
The Nahuas sacrificed their victims on altars dedicated to
Ollin-Tonatiuh, the sun of movement—our sun, the one
you see up there. Ollin-Tonatiuh was born of a sacrifice too,
the sacrifice of the Nahua’s gods.
Foam is starting to gather at the corners of my mouth.
By spilling blood, the Nahuas were making a fair and honest
trade. They were repaying the debt they owed their gods for
having given them, and the world, life. Human blood was
the sun’s nourishment, its fuel. The Nahuas performed their
sacrifices as the manifestation of their urgent will to live, as
a love-embrace to existence.
They knew that the sun, as everything that lives, must per-
ish. Thus, to delay the inevitable end of yet another creation
and remain sovereign over all, they offered what injects men
with life and allows them to remain in this world.
I’m starting to feel this urgent need to bite you now.
Contemporary men, hypocrites, look down on the Nahuas
beliefs as barbaric, murderous, and ignorant whilst turning
a blind eye as bloodshed persists everywhere in the world.
The sacrifices to the sacred sun are still being performed
across the earth, oftentimes even by those nations and cul-
tures which consider themselves ‘advanced,’ and ‘superior.
Blood is spilt with or without the Nahuas; humankind, in-
directly fulfilling their sacred purpose, to keep the burning
sun nourished.
Sorry Spinoza, I tried…

The Rage Issue | Φ 40

Photography by Rodrigo Autric

41

Φ

MAGAZINE

The Rage Issue | Φ 42

Art by Bia Nua THE PHI MAGAZINE TEAM

EDITORS IN CHIEF
Ariel De La Garza Davidoff

Chiara Zucchelli
CONTENT EDITORS

Devraat Awasthi
Teresa Mignolli
James Clark Ross
VISUAL EDITOR
Chiara Zucchelli
ARTISTS IN RESIDENCE
Cveta Gotovats

Herin Kim
Aneta Swianiewicz

SOCIAL MEDIA
Charlotte Dougan

43

Φ

MAGAZINE

The Rage Issue | Φ 44