Category Archives: AWARDS & OTHER POSTS

Eugene (P.S.)

Hullo, dearest Writers and Readers,

It’s Tati. (Yeah, I’m still here and can speak too. Shocking news, isn’t it?)

Usually I prefer to stay backstage at Unbolt Me, hiding in my cozy, dark corner and letting Tony shine onstage to bask in the warmness of your love. But please, don’t think I’m indifferent to what happens here. I do care.

You can be sure that every day I open WP Admin with bated breath and fingers crossed. I bite my nails, in a state, wondering if you’ll love our newest post or hate it. I read every single comment. Do you still read and support us? Do you still want us here?

Well… Honestly, when I was writing ‘Eugene’ I didn’t expect such great feedback. I thought it was just another story, just the next post on Unbolt Me. I was wrong.

Let me wholeheartedly thank all of you for every like, comment, and reblog. I felt your emotions and was truly moved by your sincere concern. That’s why I decided to write this post. I thought it would be churlish of me to keep you in the dark about this story. I decided to lift the curtain over ‘Eugene’ and answer some of the questions that were brought up in the comments section.

Okay, so here we are…

Q: What I want to say to you I’m not sure you’d take well so I’m not saying it.

A: Hmmm… Why not, Crystal? Please, don’t hold it inside. I promise not to bite you.

Q: Great story, true, or not, or ‘based on’…

A: Dear Alli, this is a real story. I adorned it with some artistic details, but you can be sure that all characters and events are entirely true.

Q: You can’t leave us hanging like that! Did you meet him again?

A: Yes, Tanushka. I saw Eugene a couple of times after this. Once I saw how he walks. It really drags at the heartstrings. He’s so stripped to the bone, so weak. I doubt he can even stand without his crutches, not to mention walk.

Q: Did you ever speak to the man again?

A: Unfortunately no, Cher. I wanted to stop, but something prevented me every time. In the last few weeks Eugene hasn’t been sitting in his usual place—I think because it’s getting colder. I hope to meet him again.

Q: I hope Eugene keeps doing his embroidery for a long time.

A: Dear Kat and Ellie, I sincerely hope he will! He has a splendid talent.

Q: I’m sure Eugene is an inspiration for many people.

A: Katharine, I’m with you on this. At the very least, he inspired me to write this story. And it looks like it has inspired many people who have read this story. It makes me so happy!

Q: Maybe Eugene is a supernatural geezer as well.

A: I can bet, Artie, that he is!

P.S. The photo of Eugene in the original post was my own. I was a bit too shy to take it openly, even after we’d had a conversation. I stepped aside, pretended to look for something in my phone, and took some sneaky shots like a coward. Sorry, Eugene.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017

TATI’S TRANSLATIONS // Night Ward by Sudeep Sen

The night ward’s blue curtains that surround me drip colour and deceit—each and every pleated flute of cloth hiding some half-truths like the half-lives of atoms. Only here, the arithmetic surety of fission does not wish to match the nuclear chemistry of my blood’s transfusion.

The night nurse peeps in to assure me that blue is not all black, that red is not grey, that the colour of my skin does not reflect the colour of my life. I wish I could agree with her consolations.

Yards of white and blue linen that wrap my slow generous chill, know the real secret of my floating corpuscles—the flotsam larvae, their ancient silk that gently threads my nearly finished mummy.

Синие шторы ночной палаты, окружающие меня, сочатся цветом и обманом. Каждая плиссированная складка ткани скрывает полуправду – частицу правды, пережившую период полураспада, как атом. Полученный арифметический результат этого деления упрямо не вписывается в химическую формулу переливания моей крови.

Ночная сиделка заглядывает в палату. Она уверяет меня, что этот синий не совсем черный, этот красный – вовсе не серый, и что цвет моей кожи совсем не такой, как цвет моей жизни. Мне хочется верить ее словам.

Километры белого и синего льна укутывают мой вечный озноб, постигая сокровенную тайну дрейфующих лейкоцитов; их мертвые личинки прошивают меня насквозь невесомыми шелковыми нитями, превращая в настоящую мумию.

Poem by SUDEEP SEN
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017

Wingardium Furiosa!

It’s often said that beginning is the hardest part. We’d thought about this idea for so long that we had begun to wonder if it would work at all. Still, you never know what can be achieved until you try, so we’ve decided to make an announcement…

We’ve made our very own Patreon page!

Yes, we’re still a bit shy about asking for money outright, hence the intro full of funny drawings and inconsequential waffle. And while it’s fair to say that we put a lot of effort into all we do, when it comes to self-promotion we feel like dolts.

You see, we haven’t devised a motto where we blubber and scream and guilt you into supporting us, nor have we made any tempting promises about the outcome if you do. No, we just can’t seem to get that part right.

Anyway, we won’t repeat what we wrote for our Patreon intro here. Why not pop on over and read it at your leisure instead? We promise, Dear Reader, that it’ll be worth your while. Well… it should be fun at least.

Come, fly with us!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

BUT IS IT ART? // Medicate (Be Happy or Else)

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TATI: Tony, Tony… they say that female’s logic cannot be explained. But now can you explain to me your bloody male logic?

TONY: Okay, what have I done wrong this time?

TATI: Mascara Baby. Some pink-yellow mess with a vague hint of a vagina. NSFW. Chelonian Devil. A cute blood-stained tortoise with pretty questionable aggression. NSFW.

TONY: Aw, come on now! They’re nice, wholesome images, don’t you think?

TATI: Medicate (be Happy or Else). A frank picture of a woman’s genitals which do what they are supposed to do. And… antidepressants, art, depression, disappointment, failed expectations, hard choices, lemons, low self esteem, medicating, sexuality, shame… blah-blah-blah. Everything except your beloved ‘NSFW’. What happened? Did you think this bare ass IS really safe for work?

TONY: Well, I suppose it’s a little bit confronting…

TATI: Do ya?

TONY: Okay, it is, but I had a point to make. And I think I made it quite well!

TATI: Yes, Tony. You made a pretty bum point.

TONY: Wow. You should be a stand-up comedian. I’m laughing so goddam hard right now. Someone get me a roll of gaffer tape. I need to stop my sides from splitting.

TATI: Oh… that’s the most strange compliment that I’ve ever gotten. But I love it.

TONY:  It’s not a compliment.

TATI: I wonder if a girl is told she could be a stand-up comedian, can it be considered a compliment?

TONY: I was being sarcastic.

TATI: Okay. So, you pictured the birth process of the most perfect, happiest being? A lemon?

TONY: No, it’s my take on the whole “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade!” thing. It’s an expression that I don’t think much of.

TATI: And now you sound like a christian anarchist, Tony.

TONY: Christian anarchist?

TATI: “All good men are Anarchists.” Do you agree, Tony? Can you call yourself an anarchist?

TONY: Hm. I think I’m much too conservative to be an anarchist. And what do you mean by christian? I’ve not been one of those for quite some time.

TATI: Tony, when you quote someone, you should be aware of whom you quoted at least. One beautiful day you may find yourself quoting Hitler or SpongeBob SquarePants. Quoting is a tricky thing, you know.

TONY: Oh! Is it L. Ron Hubbard? He was the one who wrote about life, lemons, and fizzy drinks, yes?

TATI: It’s Elbert Hubbard!

TONY: Well, one of them isn’t a scientologist. I know that much.

TATI: Let’s get back to bare asses.

TONY: I didn’t draw a bear’s arse.

TATI: Tony, you’re not only deaf. You’re blind. I wrote bare. Not bear.

TONY: Are you sure you didn’t mean bair?

TATI: No, and I didn’t mean briar either!

TONY: Ouch.

TATI: Yes. Especially for bare asses.

TONY: Okay. Fine. Seeing as you’re so fixated on arses, what do you want to know?

TATI: Well, why didn’t you draw a picture of a funnel?

TONY: A funnel? How would that have gotten my point across?

TATI: I think this fair lady dispenses her fine urine a bit carelessly. A funnel would be more effective.

TONY: Less messy, you mean?

TATI: Yes. Have you tried to piss into a glass, Tony?

TONY: No. Have you?

TATI: Only when I underwent medical tests. I had to prove that I wasn’t drunk or stoned.

TONY: Oh, so this was in doubt at some point in your life?

TATI: Tony, don’t try to one up me. We’re discussing your freaking art, not the details of my private life!

TONY: So, your objection to this piece of art is not the subject matter or its themes, but to the fact that her urine isn’t being collected using the most optimal means available?

TATI: Tony, please, can you sum up the ultimate goal of this picture? What did you want to declare with this?

TONY: I think it’s the depression sufferer’s way of saying, “You want me to put on a false smile and make lemonade? Here’s your goddam lemonade!” It’s a reflection on how exasperating society’s unhelpful just-get-over-it response to mental health issues can be.

TATI: Oh. Fuck me twice on a Sunday. I give up! Yes, Tony, it IS art. Amen.

TONY: Oh my. Does this mean I win our little word joust this time? I can’t believe it. Fuck me twice on Sunday too!

TATI: Shut up. I’m googling ‘exasperating’ now…

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

Open-Source Poetry #2

Dear Readers,

We’re so pleased that we took a risk and began our own little Open-Source Poetry experiment. What if we offered a space for you all to collaborate on a poem together? How would something like that play out? Well, so far it seems you’re having just as much fun as we are!

We received a staggering amount of contributions. Wow, or what! We hadn’t expected this, so we want to give our warmest thank yous for your excellent creative efforts. You have been funny, cute, thought provoking and sad. As a result, we’ve had an enormously difficult time picking the second line for this poem. You all are quite simply brilliant!

So, after some polite debate between us—although there were no fisticuffs, Tati did use a fire rake on Tony as her closing argument—we’ve chosen the line that we feel was the most unexpected and ridiculous. Without further ado, let’s thank Phoenix Risen for his contribution, and invite all of you to the next round!

And for those of you that would like a reminder of how this wonderful little experiment works…

1) We provide the next line of the poem.
2) You write the following line.
3) You submit your line via the comments section of this very post.
4) We pick the line we like most and add it to the poem.
5) We publish every line to date in a follow-up post.
6) Steps 1-5 are repeated until we have a masterpiece!

Hey guys, let’s keep the ball rolling!

Вензель

What if I said sorry for saying sorry all the time? 
Or should I just give you a baby porcupine? 
Alas, it will be one and the same outcome
Вензель_нижний

by TETIANA ALEKSINA, TONY SINGLE & PHOENIX RISEN
© All rights reserved 2017