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internalized.zoey's avatar

Idk man if im being honest. Based on reading books from the 20th century i thought all of this bohemia stuff was going to be about drinking wine and getting a little gay, not doing so much blow our hearts explode + styling some sort of costume contest themed to clinical misanthropy. Half the time this shit feels like an experiment in what culture would be if there was no art or literature and if people didn’t love each other.

Camila Hamel's avatar

What contemporary literary cultures like this one seem to be doing is to invert the hierarchy. Writer first. Audience second. Subject third, or beside the point.

Jack Skelley's avatar

Good sentences ✅

Evan McHale's avatar

Excellent! demolition straight down from the inside out very carefully done, so as not to knock over any neighbor infra- or exfra?-structure. Reminds me the way Public Housing got demolished, 1990's, after it was first funded, then slowly DE-funded drained, to reach Eye-sore Saturation Point to give the real estate hustlers plenty photo-opp stick their thumbs out at it, and say, See?? It's the Tenants, Stupid, who are to blame for elevators broken, trash in hallway, plumbing, broken, no lighting in public areas. The difference here is you taken Dime Square gentrification & its corporate faux kung foo fighting culture ,straight down from within, into a cloud of elephant tranquilizer dust!

A. Razor's avatar

Is it ok if I just miss the days of doing readings at The Nuyorican, Pyramid, KGB or the St Marks Lit Project or Epoche, Mustard Factory, Right Bank & then getting an overrated steak with a bourbon at Luger’s on some big 5 publicists tab & get back to 3rd & 3rd by 4am to cop a late night dime & go snort it up in the Max Fish bathroom so I can take a skate deck out to the Brooklyn banks with Harold & repeatedly fail at jumping the stairs as the sun rises over the river?

Cuz Dimes Square was a late 70s, early 80s crew that broke off of Harlem World & sold wax bags of stepped on dope & plastic caps of crack across the street from the 24 hr Times Square western union back then, they even gave me an airbrushed tshirt with their graf logo on it after I sold them some weed in 84, I don’t think they made it to the end of 85, times were changing, even in the squarium of dirty fish, as I used to call it…I guess I was just always too jaded for a ‘lit scene’ to mean anything…reading each other’s DMs & a crowd that eats that up? I suppose the Factory wasn’t much better, I can see where it set the precedent, but at least you had Max’s KC or CBs to balance it out where there was something memorable being created, & at least the Factory emitted the VU into the world, I just haven’t seen that much from ‘alt lit’ that stands on its own as memorable, I mean, at least Kathy Acker left behind some shit that will make your eyes bleed if you try to read it lightly…I just haven’t seen that sticking ability with alt lit in general, maybe that’s the point, from Warhol to the currently fuckability crew, it was all supposed to spiral down into a disaster, a social black hole aesthetic, just dragging itself into itself for the sake of the gravitational pull…

A. Razor's avatar

The boomer anxiety eclipsed the Gen X confidence on that response, I am knowing, but I kinda enjoy my old man from the simpsons lifestyle on the internet these days…

Mo_Diggs's avatar

Great piece but you were absolutely a scene star.

David Polonoff's avatar

I guess I was. Max Weinberger even took my photo once, but that’s because I was standing next to Mackenzie (@iwilldowhateveriwant) and he never posted it. LOL

Mo_Diggs's avatar

Max Weinberger? Isn't that Conan's drummer?

Daniel Falatko's avatar

Anyone part of, or associated with, that “scene” should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law

David Polonoff's avatar

Consider this low-key an amicus brief.

Daniel Falatko's avatar

The police will be at your door within minutes

David Polonoff's avatar

I think they’ll be at yours first for your incessant scene repots about indie-sleaze Brooklyn. Plus the cops are afraid to swat my hood — too many canes and walkers in the way.