Memories are kind of like vices, when you think about it. Aren’t we supposed to be moving on instead of revisiting the moments that made our skin crawl and made us dizzy with smiles? Some of the Pulp Zine babes re-visited their favorite memories and made pretty things to honor those times! See them all below:
I remember first being in awe of the blue mountains of Eastern Oregon inside the Interpretive Center, a museum like building atop a winding road. It taught about the Oregon trail, the pioneers, but my favorite thing was looking out of binoculars, looking out of the gigantic window at the start of the center, and seeing the mountains right in front of me, towering over fields of grass and roads that led to places I had no idea existed.The rolling brown hills of stunted Oregon grass sat on my left, and my right held the deep blue of humongous mountains that felt so close and yet too huge to fathom; that made me feel like the clouds were so immediate I could touch them; those mountains that seemed to kiss the deep blue of Oregon skies and sing like children in a choir.
As we traveled down the snaky coil of road from the center back into town, the mountains became the distant thing of memories and faded into the pastels of run down houses and the dirt of a town that hadn’t changed since the ’60s. The blues of the rocks that seemed to touch the clouds became my distant thoughts and faded into the legends of my past. Someday I will change and sleep and fade; the mountains will still sit, steadfast, between mist and some kind of heaven (if there is one), until the morning sun kills them and turns them into settled dust. –Essine
It’s sweet really. Like strawberry jam. He was the first boy to ever kiss me on the shoulder. My bare back was all his, but he chose my shoulder. Right above my freckle. Small perfect moments like that don’t come too often. Or they do and I ignore them. But capturing those sweet memories is like buying strawberry jam. You don’t want too much at one time, but you revisit the jar for a bite. And I revisit this memory a lot. Because kissing is fun. Skin is ticklish. And strangers can be the kindest of people. They can be the safest companions, the most cozy bed sharers and sometimes they kiss you on the shoulder. I don’t remember much other than my little bite of strawberry jam. But does the rest matter? Holding new hands and squeezing new tummies. It’s all just one sweet memory. I might buy a new jar of strawberry jam, but I can still find the same sweetness. Even the little tang. Everything is still there. And he will always be the first boy to kiss me on the shoulder. –Elizabeth
Having gone to Disney Land as a child and being thoroughly disappointed, I did not have high hopes for Disney World. Neither did my family, so we stuck to Universal Studios. But when my friend invited me to go to Florida with her family right after Christmas I thought “why not?”, it’s beyond cold in Michigan so it was a welcome escape. Even better than escaping the weather was escaping reality. Everyone has nothing but good things to say about Disney World and boy were they right! I specifically chose my most playful and youthful dresses (not that I have very grown up ones) and prepared myself for the enchantment of Disney!
I was not disappointed! My favorite was Magic Kingdom because I truly felt like a princess from a fairy tale! All of the music and smiles! It was a joy to be around. I’m not much of a ride person so none of the other parks had much to offer me. I was in it to meet all the characters! Yes, at 19 years old all I wanted to do was meet Tiana, Woody, Minnie, and Mickey! Setting out across Epcot, Magic Kingdom, Hollywood Studios, and Animal Kingdom was so much fun! It was like a scavenger hunt. I think my favorite memory was meeting Woody and Mary Poppins because as a child I watched Toy Story and Mary Poppins hundreds of times! Miss Poppins even told me that I dressed like a proper lady! You’re never too old for Disney World! Thanks so much to the Hall family, especially Mrs. Hall! A true blue Disney World professional. –Montgomery