LOOK OUT HONEY ‘COS THEY’RE USING TECHNOLOGY: IGGY AND THE STOOGES @ CONVERGE. CREATE. SILICON VALLEY

By Heather Harris

They were the smart-alecks teasing quantum mechanics and particle physics into transistors and microchips who changed the world forever in their positronic conquest, rightly celebrated at C2SV. They were the rock band first detonating the niche into a million smithereens of hardcore, punk rock…

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THE WONDER OF ATLANTIS

By Malcolm McNeill

In their book When the Sky Fell, Rand and Rose Flem Ath present convincing evidence that Antarctica was in fact the mythical Atlantis. Taking their cue from Charles Hapgood’s Maps of the Ancient Sea Kings and his theory of ‘crustal shifts,’ they demonstrate that the island was once the temperate thriving hub…

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TURNING THE WATER BLACK: CUTTING UP WITH GEOFFREY FARMER

By Edward S. Robinson

The exhibition catalogue to Geoffrey Farmer’s Let’s Make the Water Turn Black informs us that ‘echoing a 1968 composition by Frank Zappa of the same name… Let’s Make the Water Turn Black presents an improvised chronology of the six decades of the American musician’s life’ and that…

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THE TRUE STORY OF THE HIGHGATE VAMPIRE

By Charles Christian

A few days ago I received an invitation to join The Highgate Cemetery Vampire Appreciation Society on Facebook. This is an online forum for discussing one of the best-known cases of modern vampirism – or at least alleged vampirism – in the UK. Why did I get the invite? Because I’ve written about it before…

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THE INTERNET AND UNITING OBSCURE ARTISTS: HOW I BUILT PAINT YOUR TEETH

By David F. Hoenigman

In an April 2009 interview, Ian Svenonius asked Mike Watt (bassist of seminal 80’s hardcore punk band the Minutemen) if he thought the anger that fueled past countercultural youth movements stemmed from a lack of access to the kinds of information or art that young creative people needed in their lives…

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THE AMBIVALENT BODY: ON THE SHORT FILMS OF MONIKA K. ADLER

By Robert Smart

Historical violence haunts the short films of Monika K. Adler. The bodies of her female protagonists are carriers of traumatic memory. Even apparently consensual encounters carry this residue of past horrors. The contagion of mass violence, invading waves of fanatics inspired by the pure rage of true belief…

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THE GAME

By Malcolm McNeill

Deepak Chopra runs a center for spiritual giddy-up in southern California. His forte is mind-body medicine and he includes golf as a means for contemplating the essential balance between the two. In his book Golf for Enlightenment: The Seven Lessons for the Game of Life, he presents the “parable” of Adam Everyman…

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ANT WEATHER

By Malcolm McNeill

In New York City, the insects I encountered most frequently were cockroaches. In L.A. it was ants. My respect for each is naturally profound, but it differs according to their specific forms of social organization – their sense of community as it were and their response to the hazards with which they have to contend.

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HANDS

By Malcolm McNeill

Wednesday morning I pulled the garbage bins out into the street for collection. When I went back for the second one I discovered a lizard had been sleeping under the first. In dragging out the bin, I’d chopped off its tail.

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FOETUS: SOAK / JG THIRLWELL: THE BLUE EYES – ORIGINAL MOTION PICTURE SOUNDTRACK

By Christopher Nosnibor

I write unashamedly as a fan first and a critic second when it comes to JG Thirlwell’s work. But it isn’t because I’m blinded by awe that this man can do no wrong; I’m blinded by awe because he can do no wrong. No fence sitting here: JG Thirlwell is the only artist I can name who has produced such a body…

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NONE SHALL PASS

By Malcolm McNeill

A few chastity belts are on exhibit in a few European museums, but they are few enough to suggest that their use was not widespread. There is also some doubt as to what that use may have been. There were no contemporary literary references at the time to what is surely one of the most remarkable items…

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THE CHAIR

By Kim Dallesandro
Photo By Max Reeves

“She liked to trace the varicose veins on her legs with her fingers while she stared out the window in the late afternoon. They were like mazes, or intricate spider webs; she tried to find a beginning point and an end making it a game but never succeeding in finding a clear path to the end and it always surprised her…

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SIX BUCK

By Díre McCain

I was born rootless and restless, the youngest child of six, three of each kind. I materialized in Raleigh, North Carolina, USA, and on the eighth day, found myself in Memphis, Tennessee. The first phase of my life was spent in excruciating discomfort. Midway through the gestation period, my pill-popping mother…

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THE BAD EGG

By Matt Leyshon
Photos By Patricia Routh

The summer afternoon trembled to the buzz of chainsaws as workmen tidied the trees around the allotments. Magpies chattered angrily, hopping back and forth on the bushes. Paul took his bag from his shoulder for a moment and looked across the road to his mother’s house and the estate beyond.

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M AGAINST M (EXCERPT)

By Declan Tan

There is a constant and infinite realisation of this over and over and over: What it means to be in such a position. Trapped. All of us. Unable to break free for reasons created by outsiders. But it seems a sentiment lost forgotten erased only for some to begin the Clutching. Horrific tones that deny, and viscous inks…

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PIGGY IN THE MIDDLE

By Malcolm McNeill

Every dogma has its day and every generation sets another flawless category among the pigeonholes. A flat earth, an earth supported by elephants, an earth around which the entire universe revolves, even. Geocentrism was the name of that one; a trusty old dog only recently put down.

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RODGER PIDGEON IS DEAD (May 14, 2017— October 22, 2063)

By David Gionfriddo

Providence, R.I., November 6, 2063: Cold drizzle from the autumn sky hung all around the restive swarm of mourners outside the Mortech Necroplex Parkside East. It collected in the folds of plasticene mourning cloaks, glued medieval tunics to the bodies of tattooed tribalists huddled in office doorways…

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THE BURNING PAIN

By Kim Dallesandro

I always wear Frank’s old flannel shirt when I go out after dark. Frank being my biological father, the asshole, the bank robber, the one that made mom spit on the ground every time she said his name, that Frank. The shirt is old and worn, with a broken top button and a blood stain that won’t ever come out…

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FACEBOOK DOG

By Mike Hudson
Art By Rob Sussman

The little house was close and dark and cluttered. The shades were drawn and the windows shut tight. Outside it was a gorgeous morning in the Hollywood Hills, 74 degrees, the bright sun shining and not a cloud in the sky. But inside, the woman took no notice.

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THE WOODEN-SPOON BABYSITTER

By Hank Kirton
Photo By Richard A. Meade

The baby was crying. It wouldn’t stop crying. Alisha, 16, turned up the volume on the television, trying to drown out the sound. She hated the nerve-peeling screech of a crying baby. It was the sound of psychosis. It was the sound of a car collision, of tearing flesh and metal and the shattering of glass and bone.

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ANDY WARHOL & KAREN BYSTEDT: THE OLD POP MASTER HAS NEW ART

By Phil Tarley

Karen Bystedt shot Andy Warhol thirty years ago. She was a young film student at NYU when Bystedt spotted Andy posing in a Barney’s Clothing ad and wanted to include him in a book of models she was photographing at the time.

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A SHRIMP

By Malcolm McNeill

A while ago, scientists discovered sulfur-breathing shrimps existing in total darkness two miles down in the Atlantic. Their long held conviction that oxygen and light are prerequisites to life was proved to be wrong.

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CHIMPANZEE SITTING POOLSIDE, PALM SPRINGS, CA

By Jim Herrington

In 2006 I came across a news item – the chimpanzee that portrayed Cheeta in all of the Johnny Weismuller-era Tarzan movies from the 1930s was turning 74 years old, and not only that, the article stated that he was the world’s oldest living non-human primate as verified by the Guinness Book…

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ABRACADAVER

By Malcolm McNeill

Public executions have always been well attended. Road accidents cause rubber necking traffic jams. A neighbor across the street who undresses in the window can inspire investing in a telescope. Voyeurism – wanting to see someone naked, have sex, or die without them seeing you…

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“A” IS FOR GIRL

By Malcolm McNeill

Venus is the second closest planet to the sun, and next to it, the second brightest ‘star’ in the sky. It was named after the Roman goddess of beauty. To the Babylonians it was Ishtar “bright queen of the sky” and its Mesopotamian name Astarte was transformed by the Greeks into Aphrodite…

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TWO JACKS AND A JADA: 50th ANNIVERSARY OF JFK AND JACK RUBY’S FAVORITE STRIPPER

By Jim Linderman

Gee. It’s too bad there wasn’t so much press attention fifty years ago when it mattered. You know, back when we were buying the story that “a nightclub owner overcome by grief wanted to save Jackie from having to attend the trial shot the lone gunman in the Dallas police department” we could have used…

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TWITTER: IN CONCLUSION

By dixē.flatlin3

Welcome back, kids. It has been a few weeks, did you jump right in and start tweeting your little hearts out? Are you ready to talk Marketing Mixes and Net Promoter Scores (NPS) and Search Engine Optimization (SEO)? Just kidding!

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ASTRONOMY PICTURE OF THE DAY

By Malcolm McNeill

There is a 1909 Lincoln penny attached to the probe arm of Curiosity, a unit of currency, as it were, stuck to its palm. On the face of it, this doesn’t seem such a remarkable idea, but on the coin there are three inscriptions: “In God We Trust,” “Liberty,” and the date.

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LORD OF THE BONOBOS

By Malcolm McNeill

Action novels invariably mirror the sexual dynamic. They embody the same tension/release mechanism as orgasm, and like the movies they often inspire, always result in a climax – in their extreme, simplistic form, with a literal explosion…

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MELT-BANANA: FETCH

By Oliver Arditi

Noise, as the aural product of what is essentially a fine-grained stochastic process, calls into question the most widely shared notions of the meaningful musical utterance; or at least it does when presented or heard as music. Roughly speaking, the more noise there is in a performance or recording…

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HEINZ BRANDS A (YOUNG) WARHOL

By Jim Linderman

I saw Andy Warhol twice. An empty storefront which had once been a Puerto Rican record distributor’s “one-stop” had reopened on the corner of Tenth Avenue and 45th Street as a bar. Gentrification is a missed blessing, but I was walking my dog around the block at midnight the night it opened pleased to have…

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MERLE TRAVIS AND HIS FULLY PACKED PACKARD

By Jim Linderman

So Firm and so Fully Packed is “a torrid tale of a plump lady who laced tightly.” Now THAT is how to promote a book. I could only hope for such a good blurb. Someone was thinking (but we will never know who) as despite top shelf drawings by fetish artist Eric Stanton on both covers, there is no publisher.

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TO TWEET OR NOT TO TWEET, THAT IS THE QUESTION: WHETHER OR NOT TWITTER IS A GOOD ENVIRONMENT FOR YOU, YOUR ART, OR YOUR BRAND

By dixē.flatlin3

I consider myself to be somewhat of a Social Media pioneer. I started with Friendster, migrated to MySpace (MS), reluctantly made my way to Facebook (FB), and happily plowed headlong into Twitter. I was a proficient MySpacer, but had to step away as the site began to wane.

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IGGY AND THE STOOGES AT THE QUEEN MARY, LONG BEACH, CALIFORNIA: RAW AND REAL POWER

By Heather Harris

Global rock festival goers attend for the communality, their mutual collective experience of shared ambience and solidarities of musical tastes in seeing whatever A-list, world-class acts are touring that summer. American festival attendees go for specific favorite acts.

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RED AND YELLOW, BLACK AND WHITE: CLARENCE HERBERT WOOLSTON WRITES A STANDARD

By Jim Linderman

I’m not all about satire, and neither should any questioning soul… there were some good guys in the Jesus racket, and one of them was Clarence Herbert Woolston. A humble man who makes what passes for our public preachers of today look like bleating bags of greed.

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BELIEVERS ROAST PRESENTS: THE EXQUISITE CORPSE GAME

By Oliver Arditi

The game of Consequences has a long history, probably in the order of two centuries, but quite possibly longer. Back when parlour games were essential lubricants to the passage of time, a progress not demarcated by the dazzling increments of the media age, such diversions had a far more prominent role…

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ALESSANDRO ‘SASEKO’ MOTOJIMA: SENDO SENSHI: ONE BLADE TO KILL THEM ALL (SOUNDTRACK)

By Oliver Arditi

Sendo Senshi is the title of an unreleased 1970s ‘whitexploitation’ movie, both directed and scored by Japanese-Italian Alessandro ‘Saseko’ Motojima. You can watch a trailer for it by clicking the link below; it promises violence, crime, gore, tits, shouting, sartorial intensity and all the garish, cartoonish traits of…

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SAM PHILLIPS: PUSH ANY BUTTON

By Steve Wilson

In the vast sea of women singer-songwriters bent on Joni worship and literary pretense, Sam Phillips stands, and always has stood out. Her palette is typically the same mix of acoustic and electric instruments shared with the confessional crowd, but her songwriting has always favored brevity, and a heady mix…

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RENUNCIATION (EXCERPT)

By Kim Dallesandro

The Westinghouse Building stands in the middle of broken dreams. Six floors high, gutted, engineered, plotted and planned into living spaces where we look outside and watch the despair. My windows face a sweatshop and each day I watch the Hispanic workers lose a little more hope with each garment…

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TOPANGA

By Mike Hudson
Photo By Dale Johnson

Chloe was as ugly as Lola was beautiful, but he loved them both, having found one in arid Bakersfield and the other over near San Bernardino. Lola was an aristocrat while Chloe came from humble mestizo stock and when they weren’t sleeping with him they slept with each other.

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GLYPH

By dixē.flatlin3
Drawing By Dolorosa De La Cruz

Theresa drove down the street noticing how nondescript and common the main streets of most American towns were. Some touted their Main Street as a source of pride and ingenuity, a throwback to better times, but mostly they were relics of Americana.

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AURÉ (A NARRATIVE)

By J Karl Bogartte

There is only the moon with vague rumors and the whispering brothel of the last “I love you” ever spoken, the dream that is not a dream, but the corrida of the veil, the “more, deeper, yes!” cast for a parallel series across the harbinger light…

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SCENE GRAPHIC: SYNTHETIC REALITY

By Christopher Nosnibor
Photos By Dale Johnson

So near and yet so far… there was something there, in the mists that eddied around him, just beyond his perception and just out of reach… but try as he might to follow, he simply couldn’t get near to whatever it was, that intangible shadow, that will-o’-the-wisp, that flitted, fleetingly, a fraction of a metre…

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