empire builder

i #1

empire builder: introducing all apologies and explanations aside the three of us (the jolly banker, the cheshire cat, miss) wanted to produce a vision in black and white ink. to pass around to our friends and put our thoughts into the world. exhort. breathe. share our inspirations and musings. humor us, join us, love us, ridicule us, write us. it s really all the same, we just want you to read and tell us. empirebuilderzine.wordpress.com So to all you future dreamers and lovers and leavers, to all those who know theres still something between us that binds us and reminds us of times that passed, I appreciate you listening to this one mans last gas. In spite of all the words that we cant fit to song, Id thank you to take off your eye shades, and please... sing along. - livin a dream by dr dog

cover and additional photography by chester bennett

the cheshire cat authorship: pp 3. 4.

JAYZ s COUP
Bang. bam. im the new sinatra. if yall hear the anthem, tell me how would i get to kansas, if i were the king of the forest? Yes, i heard the sky is falling, on the other side of the street is a safe coup.
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OFFICE LIFE or COLUMBIA? the buzzing screen disconnects me, i cant sit here any longer. i meander past burning coffee and an empty front desk. i bare my arms and stride toward the big windows. i dont have to open the doors, magic does it for me. outside i wander over to a concrete path across the green company lawn. at a railing next to a trash can i pick up a beheaded weed and stick it in my shirt breast pocket. i crush the 12oz coffee stained cup, account for wind, and loft it to the can. i watch small planes land on a historic airfield runway. propellers buzz and blur and i recall jumping on a track to success, courting bold fonts of my namesakes 1pg achievements to impress strangers. i want out of the cubicle wasteland of soundbites and powerpoints. this track im on promises all shiny rails and fancy hats, but now i dream of the bucolic truth in hourly-waged living. barren of prestige and crystal paper weights. i drag back into the office. they dont notice my wind blown hair. they are a train full of engineers and no brakemen. i feel like plunging boulders onto their wood grained laminate oceans so that splinters fly and pencils become weapons of mass destruction. i sip the dense and thick coffee remains and imagine the devastation. i feel like scribbling i quit in big black smelly ink running out the door and jumping the fence to the airstrip to thumb a ride to columbia above the mushroom cloud.
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art: mixed media chad bennett

ink blot / smudge / construction paper.

the jolly banker authorship: pp 6. 8. 9.

The Hierarchy Of Free Coffee 1. Office Coffee - curdling black at 2 in the afternoon I need it.Ive still got two and a half more hours to stay awake.Ill trade stomach aches for promotions. 2. Bar coffee - not the kind with the shot of some liquor. The real thing. I reserve this for desperate nights. Generally I find bars that serve coffee are solid dives and my tastebuds are all gone to shit by the crucial moment anyway, so its tolerable. 3. Airplane coffee- surprisingly delicious on some airlines, black hot death on others. Drinking coffee on an airplane is generally a good idea if youre going somewhere important. If you dont want to be where youre headed order a jack and coke. 4. Bank coffee - weak, those pussies. 5. Rest area coffee - if its a matter of survival, dont worry, otherwise those old ladies need help with the coffee machine and the cookies dont help, tasting mildy of moldy rooms or a place where windows werent opened for years. 6. Mountain coffee - its the mountains, its usually not the best but it ranks high because: saying mountain coffee sounds cool and you didnt have to brew it off your pocket rocket stove on the ground. Also I know its not free but I wanted to write about mountain coffee. 7. Doctors office coffee - a rarity. Im not even sure it exists but if it did its probably decaf and good for you in some way so whats the point really? 8. Jury Duty Waiting Room coffee - first its in the back of the room, but the efforts not worth it, climbing over sleeping guys in baseball caps. The automatic machine - all the possibilities. Cappucino. Latte (how do they manage the milk in there?). Coffee Light, Medium, Strong. Choose strong with good intentions but it lays on top of your dont pick me nerves so you cant even read while youre sitting praying for high noon freedom. 9. Oil change coffee - do they like it strong or is it just inevitable grease mixes with grounds. Sometimes 15 minutes feels like forever so I pour myself a cup, one sip, and let it sit until its, you with the silver avalon - youre all set. Dump it out. Drive away fast. 10. Grocery store coffee - is it practical to drink coffee and shop? Maybe if they put cup holders on the carts. Flat coffee and old donut holes, thats the standard at pretty much any grocery store. p. 6

art: 35mm photography chester bennett

multnomah falls. portland. mid dec 2009.

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Credit Card Longings

My thoughts wont stop coming like credit card offers in the mail. They tease my hopes with possibilities we could take a trip like an opportunity to start over this is a limited-time offer. But theres troubles buried in the fine print old wounds, self-doubt, unknown everything sign up now. I agreed to all the terms and conditions anyway I shouldve paid attention You kept the right to change our agreement at any time.

Oreo Pocorn on your tongue when we kiss. Ive researched the world record for the longest makeout session its within our reach. When you wear your old glasses you remind me of john lennon imagine we dont have to be lonely people. I think of you between penitentiaries and junkyards on the high eastern plains. Youve changed my life with cheeze-its egg scrambles and oreo popcorn.

Isnt there supposed to be a grace period? It passed. Oreo popcorn So I have to be careful with these things my sensitive information I dispose of them carefully I light them on fire in my backyard. I dont want to leave a trace someone might steal my identity these thoughts are everything.

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The Protector The Protector was our home. It sat on the West side of Wallingford hill looking down on Lake Union. That hill had incline so the Cheshire Cat could snowboard to work during the winter snow of 08. The house divided in two and we lived in varying stages of harmony and discord with two sets of neighbors. We arrived with dreams like planting a garden, starting a band, feeling good about our place in this city. We managed a big hole in the backyard for the garden but one night we gathered poets and read to each other which was magic enough. I consider it an accomplishment. In the summer the windows were always open. The music from the record player drifting into the streets. We hosted parties that didnt end until early morning with guests climbing into dumpsters searching for day-old bread, people dancing dents into minivan roofs, four on four soccer games in the street. That house couldnt contain our parties. It was cold in the winter. The windows were old and didnt seal and when I sunk into the ocean blue couch the chill leaked in through the cracks down to my bones. We watched our breath like evidence of the good words spoken. We traded dreams, fears, hard luck stories. We plotted strategies to woo those girls. When we were home there was music playing and bold singing. The fridge was bare, the cupboards contained peanut butter and coffee and an odd assortment of Asian cooking ingredients courtesy of the previous tenants we never used. Before we left we hosted garage sales three weekends straight. We met our neighbors for the first time. Missed greatness. We made people out of lingering unwanted items and bargained with passers-by $2 for a guy. The morning after the last party tofu dogs lay on stereo speakers and crushed tortilla chips dusted damp clothes. We put a hole in the wall that last night. The landlord never paid back our security deposit but I consider it our parting settle-up with The Protector. We owed plenty anyway.

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miss authorship - pp 10. 11.

BELIEFS
I gave him back the dollar, from his pocket that fell out. Airport floor, he was surprised, a bit red, thank you-almost a thank you kindly-I think. I never cheat at board games, It always seemed like the challenge. Called bratty for protesting that someone else did. Not about winning, Id lost either way, just About doing right, it is More fun. Give everyone a chance. I love football and I know why. At the airport all TVs on deck showing the game. Second string turned sharp shooter against a leader old enough to have a son in the league. It did not even matter whose team it was (though shouts came from the wolrds best hamburger place, self proclaimed, hundred yards away) No jerseys or shit talkin just all these people on hold connected to this vision of fairplay and champion. Not too long, you know about How long it will last. Captain gives a score update.
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I have thing for hot Dogs. Ice cream said to be my favorite meal. But theres hot dogs with neon relish and celery salt.

Or Texas barbeque sausage Without bun, with nibblets of cheddar. The half smoke I met today with chili, the only place that race did not destroy. A love affair between a family muslim, black neighborhood, city symbol to democracy. Theres baseball too only place to get a good dog west of the Midwest. No brats there just mountains and forest, and sometimes a football fan.

Why is it that older people always remind us of our grandparents? There is an old man on trial for Nazi war crimes crimes against humanity. His defense is he just followed orders. At what point do you give your life for another? Witnesses remember his face, controlling the gas chamber. I walked up to the bus stop. An old lady, purple hat to match her sweatpants. Clothes all different shades of the chromatic scheme. Green bag, black shoes, navy traditional plaid scarf. I wish I had said hello before I sat down. Dont know if Ive ever liked anything as much as she likes the shade of purple or maybe its violet to her.

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 empire builder
feb 19.2010.

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