"Frozen Moments" Spaghetti Sculpture

By Vince Ynzunza

I was in Redmond, WA yesterday picking up my Grandmother’s car with my Mom and we stopped at the Value Village for some browsing. Value Village is a groovy place for treasure hunters – but you have to be there at the right time! No matter how unusual, eclectic or superior your taste in clothing or relics may be – you always need to consider the fact that there’s someone else out there who wants the same things! Arriving just a minute too late can make the difference between a great find and an empty-handed day. That’s why I was uber-excited when I spied my latest find! It’s a plate of Spaghetti with a stainless steel fork suspended by a sturdy cluster of noodles about 6 inches above the dish – frozen in time - like an invisible man is about to chow down! It’s a food sculpture of sorts – a moment in time captured by a skilled artisan. On the bottom of the plate there is a sticker logo of an Australian company called FROZEN MOMENTS. I did some internet research and found out that this company was created in the 70’s and that they actually had a whole series of these ‘Frozen Moments’ culinary sculptures; a bowl of cereal with a carton of milk suspended above it, a glass of whiskey with a bottle pouring into it and even a hot dog being smothered by a floating container of ketchup! The company itself is now defunct and little can found about the actual artists but they seem to be quite the collector’s items!

Before yesterday, I had never conceived of Australian Pop Art – but now I want to know more. No one ever considers the Aussies – they’re all backwoods spawns of criminals and thugs, right? Well, it seems that I’ve stumbled upon a bona fide ‘down-under Warhol’ – and my personal collection is now stronger for it. I’m just beginning to conceive of the fun that I can have with my Frozen Moments Spaghetti Sculpture; like setting it across the table from me while I’m eating and telling onlookers that I’m just having lunch with my best friend ‘Harvey’ or going to an upscale Italian Bistro and ordering an expensive plate of spaghetti Bolognese and then when the waiter isn’t looking, switching the two plates and loudly demanding that I speak to the manager! Oh boy, I can’t wait!


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Growing Up Far from the Brady's neighborhood

by Leonardo Casas

How ideal and attractive it is living under the everlasting evocation of what gives you joy.

As a child Television was everything to me. No restrictions in my household for it. I received the pleasures of the electronic images since day one.

What gave me joy then is still able to give me strength now. Distant dreams.
The Brady Bunch was one those dreams and they were so distant. In time and space, the fictional family of a new society were years far from my own reality, but the way they looked, so enigmatic and wild, was what bred my time travel skills. They were for sure, one of those unique electronic experiences beyond the limits of everyday constrictions and exquisitely elusive attractions on Chilean Tv channels…

It was through the Filmation cartoons on Saturday mornings where I had the chance for a more solid re-encounter with the mysterious wide blue-eyed American family… Marcia, Jan, Cindy, Peter, Bob and Greg: Can you imagine what an exotic and psychedelic experience it was to watch a TV explosion where the six transmuted from real life brothers and sisters into cartoons characters? There were pandas and dog and even a magic bird!!! – the cartoons were okay but my need for the Brady knowledge was still intact: who were their parents? Were they responsible for the sexual tension I scarcely perceived? What about Alice? Was she Mr. Brady’ secret lover? What about all those kids? Was the older sister really groovier than Jan? What about the boys? So many unanswered questions… so many expectations clouded by an unfortunate context’s elision.

As the time passed and I got older Nietzsche replaced Babes in Toyland, Russian Avant-garde cinema overcame the Goonies and the news was a better lie than Laverne and Shirley.

I started teaching in an Institute about 2002 in a very rough neighborhood, full of Chinese shops and lots of Palestinian thrift stores selling the most unpredictable items ever: old peewee Herman dolls through Boxcar Willie cassette tapes; 80s jeans jackets through nylon ladies shorts: the turning point on my thirst for the unknown exploded and Russian avant-garde movies were left behind for unsigned wedding video cassettes; photo albums featuring Baptist families become even more significant than the news.

And then a miracle: Growing Up Brady: Barry “Greg” Williamson’s autobiography collided in my path: a small volume sliced in three sections (one page missing) with all the information, chapter lists and pictures my poor Chilean soul always imagined to read. Sorry Mr. Nietzsche but the knowledge is in the Now. Page after page I was transported to a completely unexpected era. A new vocabulary of healthy fantasy and lusty illusion irradiated from this new book of revelation. Not long after this meeting with the written past I dreamed about as a kid in so many states of delirium, the cable channel Cinecanal Classics started airing all the Brady Bunch Seasons. All the stories Greg told me where there! All the promises of a synthetic and colorful realm were fulfilled. Carol and Mike were even sexier than I ever imagined. Alice was whiter than anyone. Marcia and Jan the living models for Malibu Barbie, with the same Egyptian elegance of the tanned dolls. The boys were the boys, they had in their shared room the same clown painting I still hang as a shadow on my wall.

How amazing the illusion that plays games on us! How colorful the distant dreams can become!
In the eternal circle of the eternal ice that each individual can take care of, against any odds, amazing things can happen.

“So as you can see, we all turned out fine, and there’s not a bad banana in the Bunch.”
Barry Williamson


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Lisa Frank Bag

Vince Ynzunza

Look at my new Lisa Frank bag! Isn’t it Groovy?! It was given to me by the totally MOST Alexandra Sullivan – one of the official High Priestesses of Grooviness! She used it when she was a little girl herself but now she’s blossomed up and has chosen to tithe it to yours truly! I couldn’t be more excited! Looking at it, many things come to my mind: fun, far out parties, kittens, Princess Power! And when I use it in public, I can feel its transformative energies surround me and grant me the eyes of the ancient ones. Now I can see LOVE!

Lisa Frank is the true Queen of Color – and her Royal Spectrum loyally serves her plans for Art-World Domination! Watch as the Hot Pink Brigade delivers a swift kick of WOW to her boring detractors! Look out as Cool Blue digs up some Ken Nordine jazz beats to sunder the waxy prudes on Main Street. Show some respect for Sugar Yellow! Her era is in! This is the NOW Army! And when I carry my bag, I show where my politics lie.

And dig what I carry inside of this Far Out Bag:

WSG Issues #1 and #2!

I carry these around for when the mood strikes to deliver the WORD! You can have the WORD too! Just go to http://www.warsemenandgrooviness.com/store.htm

My Knife!

Whether I’m strolling through a minority neighborhood or White Trash U.S.A. – my Groovy knife colors any fool RED!

My Lisa Frank ‘Queen of Color’ Notebook!

This is where I write my deepest thoughts and most high-flying dreams! Specifically, it’s the carrier of my upcoming novella ‘The Diary of Ginny Rae’ – a groovy love story about Demon Possession and Menstruation!

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Deer Hoof Lamp

Vince Ynzunza

I used to work at Value Village in the Capitol Hill neighborhood of Seattle, WA – the three-story building was formerly used by REI (the world’s premiere outdoor gear store) up until the early 90’s and still stank of heavy creosote and adrenaline. This joint was a magnet for refuse – broken toasters, used underwear, Commodore computer systems and Sing A-Long With Mitch albums came and went through the front doors like familiar relatives. But once in a great while a real treasure would be dropped off – and I managed to get my hands on a few of them. One fond item that immediately comes to mind was this totally fab Mao Tse Tung cigarette lighter – it was bright red with a classic portrait of Chairman Mao in the center and when I would summon the flame, it would light up and play the National Anthem of the People’s Republic of China! Unfortunately, some foul commie stole it during a party at my apartment a few months later – I’m pretty sure I know who took it but now is not the time or the place for accusations.

Throughout my career as Cashier and Operations Assistant, I snagged a few more beautiful items; various Southern Baptist floral grandmother hats, a John Cage cassette, groovy threads and whatnot – but the Holy Grail of finds came one day as I was unloading the donation cart; a near immaculate piece of household taxidermy! It was a working lamp whose base was comprised of four beautiful deer legs, bound in the center by two golden metal bands. While the base of the lamp was in perfect condition, the light-bulb base itself was in need of some repair – fortunately, Value Village’s popular security guard and Vietnam Veteran, William Koerber was there to assist. During my lunch break, we both went to the basement and dismantled another lamp and attached its functional light-bulb base to my Deer Hoof Lamp. It was complete! That was about 4 years ago and I still have this wonderful item – but I have yet to find an adequate lampshade. While I have come across many decorative and useful shades since then, none have proved quite worthy enough to adorn this treasure. I need a Bambi Lampshade – nothing else will do. I implore anyone who is reading this to keep your eyes open! If you locate such a lampshade, please e-mail me at vince_verbatim@hotmail.com

Some people have expressed discomfort upon seeing my Deer Hoof Lamp. But I just laugh at them. While I’ve never been a hunter, I’ve always admired the art of death – the craftsmanship that goes into manipulating a carcass into a functional piece of household brilliance is a skill that belongs within the highest echelon of American ingenuity. Such a trade goes far beyond the mere realm of fur coats and mink scarves – by utilizing the remnants of these beasts in our daily lives, the deceased creature is actually paid a tribute – it lives on through us! As I stroke the smooth hair of my Deer Hoof Lamp, I can almost sense the former life of this majestic Cervidae as it leaped through forests and across highways, as it nibbled at indigenous berries and cautiously froze at the faint sound of a rifle cocking. Sometimes, I can even feel its soul - as soft as a warm light washing over the darkness of my room. I love it - and I know it loves me.



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The Partridge Salt Shaker

Vince Ynzunza

I discovered this groovy relic at a Goodwill Store in Centralia, WA – hidden in the bric-a-brac aisle amongst an underwhelming mess of chipped porcelain bovine butter-boats and cute-as-fuck figurines, this canary yellow 1970’s salt-shaker stood out like Christ on a hill. And further sweetening the deal – it was shaped like a Partridge Bird! While it certainly could not be considered official television merchandise, I immediately connected the find with the classic show, The Partridge Family – and although I do suspect that it may have been manufactured to capitalize on the show’s popularity, a cursory internet search turned up nothing on its origins. But who really cares? It’s one-of-a-kind! It’s a salt shaker! And it’s shaped like a Partridge! I doubt that I will ever use it properly though – years of collecting dust compounded with the questionable restrictions on the use of lead-based paint in the 1970’s makes me a bit nervous about manipulating it in conjunction with my edibles. I have however, put it to comical use on the world of YouTube through a series of video blogs which find me and Partridge Salt Shaker waxing philosophical about modern life and employing outta-sight musical numbers which PSS beak-syncs to!

Since I luckily acquired this object, life has gone on – I’ve laughed, I’ve cried, I’ve fucked and I’ve wondered – but those small moments out of the day when I spy The Partridge Salt Shaker out of the corner of my eye truly brings a soothing calm to my day. And therein lies its intrinsic value – Partridge Salt Shaker seasons my life with joy! I bet you wish you had one.

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