The Transfer

by Nicholas Riddle

I've been on the bus for three days now. The once metallic smell mixed with body odor, rancid oils tracked in from restaurants and stale cigarette smoke is now a barely noticable background. The plastic seat that cradles me once seemed hard and unforgiving - now it offers comfort and familiarity as I roam through a city I thought I knew.
For 15 years I worked in that office - day in and day out, never taking enough time for myself. I thought I was spending my time wisely, working my way up towards something, a nebulous seat amongst those that seemed important at the time.
For 15 years I ignored the city, the people, the music of the street around me. I didn't ignore them, really - I never even acknowledged them. What did I think of them? I didn't think of them at all.
But that's changed now. I left my job 3 days ago. It had taken its toll on me, used the best parts of me and left an empty husk alone under the flourescent lighting in a small office next to the acrid burning coffee pots. I did not announce it, I did not conspire. I did not organize my affairs, turn in my notice, compose a letter of resignation. I did not ask for my final two weeks and 15 years worth of accumulated vacation pay to be paid out to me. I did not clean my desk of personal items or put an out-of-office assistant to the task of my emails. There was no letter, no manifesto, no moment of anger.
I just stood up and walked out the front door.
At that point two things happened: I felt incredibly relieved, a spine-tingling sensation of relief, a dread that was no longer, a fear vanquished, a sense of victory. The other was like an overwhelming sense of vertigo you might feel standing on the edge of a canyon, unimaginably huge and vast and empty. I knew nothing of myself outside of the job I had just previously performed and knew next to nothing about the city in which I lived.
I stood briefly outside the building, tiny and insignificant under its towering visage, the teeming throngs of people coming and going under its hideous carapace. All had a place to go, something to do, a deadline to beat, a cause to champion, a task list to check.
I had nothing.
I just smiled, turned and walked away.
The feeling of the concrete, soaked black with the tears and sweat of tens of thousands of people, felt comfortable under my black, tightly laced shoes. The soles gripped confidently and rolled underneath, propelling me forward. The tenacious grip of the black grime tried to deter my progress but the soles released and I moved forward.
Through crowds, across striped pedestrian walks, amongst countless, nameless people, in front of stores that sold and bargained and pleaded with you to come in, offices lined with men in suits, trucks stinking against the curb, questionable water in a small rivulet running down the sidewalk.
I walked and walked and walked till I became aware of the burning fatigue in my legs. The afternoon had worn on and the wind was whipping around corners announcing its arrival ahead of me in the whiplash of skirts and hair.
I cannot say that I felt a euphoric sense of freedom nor a need to break into a joyous song. I just walked - that was what I needed to do. But, I think for the first time, I saw. I noticed. I observed. Not with blind vacant eyes waiting to arrive at the office and be filled with the norms of the day - the coffee, the monitor, spreadsheets, plans to be inspected, a black pen, a red pen, the handshakes, the phone, a conference room, a pathetic box of donuts, the acres of taupe and grey carefully chosen to never offend or inspire.
No, I felt like I could see a city I knew nothing about. The colors, the lights, the signs, the sounds, the horns - all made by people for a reason. All choices made everyday by everyone. And I knew nothing about them.
I had sat under a shelter near the corner to rest my feet, to relieve my eyes of the onslaught of color, when a bus pulled up, startling me. As I stood up to contemplate taking the bus, people crowded around, pushing, moving toward the door. I knew I was getting on, there was no fighting it. The demands of the crowd were the same everywhere, just go with the flow.
As I stepped up I panicked momentarily. I realized I did not have bus fare. But this was quickly remedied as the sheer number and violence of a crowd filling a bus was too much for the uninterested driver. I moved with the rest of them, sharing a blank look as camouflage, and found grip on the pole overhead.
The first thing to occur to me was the silent nature of the bus. Human nature was replaced with an unwritten code of bus behavior - no eye contact, no talking, no contact with another person, and if you do, do not acknowledge. Each person was isolated within himself, wishing he or she was not there. I could not help smiling - it was just so bizarre. No stench, noise, bump or otherwise would disturb them from ignoring this part of their day. The stink of old cigars, the dry scalp flakes on the jacket just inches in front of me, the unmistakable body odor of the unwashed, the fine shoe that had trod in something unmistakably dog-like - all of it could be ignored and imagined away.
I knew if I laughed out loud, I would be breaking the code, so I stifled it by biting my lower lip. Hopefully everyone was too interested in their devices to pay any attention to me.
I knew I had found a place to be for a while. This was an environment so unlike and contrary to the constructions of the office that I had to know more.
So, I've been on this bus for three days. No, I'm not going back to work. I know that seems odd. But, sitting on a bus for three days is pretty odd, too. I know there are questions about what happens when I need to go to the bathroom: How do I eat? Do I sleep? Of course I do, and I address those needs as I need to. I've learned the drivers, the fares, the transfers and some routes.
But far more interesting is what I'm seeing in the meantime. It's not the high-priced corner offices, the sports cars, the expensive clubs that drive this city. It's not the politicians, the endorsements, the deals, the policies that determine what this city is.
The city rides a bus, steps over questionable puddles, writes his name on the window, sleeps on his neighbor's unmoving shoulder, gives up his seat to an elderly woman who ignores him, and offers service 24 hours a day.
This is the city I will tell you about.

W

Another Summer Event!

Hi, everyone,

We've chosen a date for our second event of the summer: August 16th. Featured bands will include the Divine Feud and Rainbow Arabia, and featured artists will include Rose Slaton and Sam Handleman. We still have wall space for visual artists, as well as time on the mic for poets and writers. If you're interested in getting involved, send your contact information and a few examples of your work to redisblue@cca.edu. We are also in need of event staff, so kindly let us know if you'd like to help out.

We'll keep you updated. Remember to add us on MySpace - http://myspace.
com/redisbluemagazine - and to check redisblue.net regularly for news and new work.

Also, we need your submissions. Reminder: at this time, you must be a CCA student to submit work to Red is Blue. We are looking for:

-Drawings
-Paintings
-Fashion photography
-Photography photography
-Photographs of your 3D work
-Collages
-Essays
-Interviews
-Articles
-Poems
-Stories
-Reviews
-Anything else that you created that we enjoy

Hope to hear from you soon! Redisblue@cca.edu.

Thanks,
Amy Silbergeld

A Few Photos from YAY!

Call For Bands, Artists, and Writers

RED IS BLUE IS NOW ACCEPTING SUBMISSIONS. Please email your best poetry, prose, nonfiction, and/or art to redisblue@cca.edu.

Also, we're hoping to host another show this summer and are looking for bands. This time, we will be at a rented venue instead of a residential art space, and we hope to bring out 400+ people this time around. Although we are unable to pay you for your time, we are able to reimburse you for gas money or other travel expenses. What we are looking for: RELEVANT bands. We don't like nostalgia.

If you're interested, please send your info to me via MySpace or email redisblue@cca.edu. PLEASE make sure to give us a very good idea of your availability this summer.

ALSO, we are looking for 6-8 visual artists (any medium) to showcase their work, as well as 4-5 writers or poets. What we are looking for here is the same as what we are looking for in the music we showcase: relevance. We would LOVE to showcase more visual art from outside of the Bay Area, so if you are an artist located elsewhere and would like to show your work but cannot make it down, we can reimburse you for shipping costs.

If you're an artist interested in being involved with our next event, please send 4-5 examples of your best work or a link to your website to redisblue@cca.edu, along with your contact info and availability. If you're a poet interested in being involved, please send 2 poems or 1-2 pages of prose or a link to your website, along with your availability, to redisblue@cca.edu.

Thanks,
Amy Silbergeld
Managing Editor
Red is Blue

More Yay

Even More New Staff

Hey hey hey.

We have 5 new staff members on board. Here they are:

Cody White, Visual Arts Outreach Coordinator,
and Dana Porush, Lead Outreach Coordinator

John Metcalf, Visual Arts Editor

Melissa Howden, Event Marketing Specialist

Oscar Garcia, Marketing Communications Manager

If you've forgotten who the rest of us are, or if you're looking for a great way to receive regular Red is Blue updates, check out our myspace at http://myspace.com/redisbluemagazine.

Thanks,
Amy Silbergeld

Red is Blue Presents: YAY!

Hi, everyone,

Red is Blue is proud to present the first of our summer event series, YAY! YAY! will feature performances from local and touring bands including Chris Alarie, Shannon and the Clams, The Passionistas and Bridez. In addition to great live music, YAY! will feature video installations from Colin Blackshear, Oscar Garcia, and Caitlin Denny and paintings and drawings from Cody White, Shanny Clam, and others.

The Hellton Hotel
310A 51st Street (Cross street Broadway)
Oakland, CA

Doors at 7, bands at 8.
5-10 dollar suggested donation to reimburse touring bands for gas money.

Bring all your friends?

Hope to see you there,
Amy Silbergeld
Managing Editor
Red is Blue

New staff

Thanks for visiting Red is Blue, CCA's recently-revived undergraduate literary magazine. We've got some great new stuff for you to read and look at. Keep the submissions coming to redisblue@cca.edu.

Our new staff:

Amy Silbergeld - Managing Editor
Caty Olson - Visual Arts Editor
Katie Atwater - Web Editor
David Prinvale - Nonfiction Editor
Jasmine Moser - Poetry Editor
Christine Trudeau - Prose Editor
Zoe Minikes - Outreach Coordinator
Zak Timan - Visual Arts Outreach Coordinator

Since we've brought Red is Blue back to life, we've sponsored a successful Hearsay, CCA's undergraduate reading, featuring author Andrew Altschul, author of Lady Lazarus, and student readers Dana Porush, Christine Trudeau, Michael Burge, Amy Silbergeld, and Vanessa Flores. We also hosted an open mic, featuring music by CCA's own Honeybody Moonbee.

To stay updated on Red is Blue events, add us as a friend on MySpace (http://myspace.com/redisbluemagazine), or join the facebook group Red is Blue.

If you have any questions or wish to submit your work, drop us a line at redisblue@cca.edu.

3...2...1... Ignition

Welcome to day one of Redisblue.net!

Look around and read our articles and stories! We will be continuing to add more new content every week or so. We are seeking submissions to fill the site, so be sure to submit any writing, photography, paintings, or anything else you do! We want all of it! All submission guidelines are to the left of this text.

Let's get this party started.