Moshe Katsav has been convicted of committing rape while he was president of Israel.Thanks and congratulations to my fine, fierce sister-soldiers who poured into the streets to hold a powerful man accountable for his crimes.…


I made this little book as a gift for a friend. It’s a portrait without a face; a portrait of an artist through photographs of his living space. There’s not much of a preview at the website because, well, the self-publishing outfit I used wants to make money. But if you’re feeling rich and like surprises and want to support amateur photography as sentimental talisman, then, by all means, go ahead and buy the book. And if you don’t want to buy it, I’ll show you my copy. I rather like how it turned out: a little creepy, a little Zen, a little phenomenological, a little fetishistic…my friend has great stuff in his house. Take a look.

(Note – clicking the photo will just enlarge it; click the link above to see the book webpage…)


I’ve long been enamored of the idea that We don’t need institutions to do our intellectual/cultural exchanging, that We are in fact constricted and muffled by our over-reliance on institutions, and that We should be taking matters into Our own hands. I’m always hearing my university-affiliated compatriots complaining about bureaucratic turf wars and Kafka-esque administrative procedures. After my modest attempt at gradskool participation, I don’t envy them.

The thing I DO miss about gradskool is the ampleness of opportunity for long, impassioned arguments. The kind that begin with current events and quickly head for the stratosphere of philosophical speculation, or dig into the underguts of sex and hunger. I miss having a readymade group of compatriots who have all read, and thought about, the same books.

But I don’t think I need gradskool to create that sort of atmosphere. Let’s just Do It Ourselves. Let’s have monthly thematics, and networked seminars, and debates with guest presenters. Except let’s eliminate conference rooms, fluorescent lights, powerpoint, and external funding. We can use kitchen tables and barrooms and midnight parkbenches, and bonfires and candlelight and sunshine, and the good ol’ fashioned human voice, and face, and gesture. And fuck funders – we can make our own vodka and sandwiches. Potlatch film festivals; bookfeasts…these aren’t new ideas. Let’s execute. (Misha, Ice Lady, DJ Quodlibetical Demiurge, Princess Roger, Milutis, Burke, Meghatron, Zed Equals Zee, The Old Man, Jason Z: I’m CALLING YOU OUT.)

So, as a suggestion. Eliminative Culinarism has a piquant list of Speculative Realist Cinema and Literature. Maybe we could collectively accumulate copies of these titles, distribute them amongst ourselves, and have a day of viewing/discussion/imbibing? In MY utopia, this would be a typical weekend. Xoxoxoxox.

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