D.C. Suburb, pop punk super hero and zinester. Blog= an inconsistent ejaculation into the endless web of non-responses and distant cracked computer monitors.
The Gaffer Project. Spoken word from Roanoke, VA. Check this dude out, he is AMAZING.
I writhe in my bed while the shitty laptop speakers play “EVERYBODY GOT BRUISED LAST NIGHT!” and I scream “TAKE THE LONG WAY SO WE CAN HAVE ANOTHER” until I’m so worn out I nap till the sun comes up.
We made a Writing to Prisoners FAQ zine. Check it out!
Also: Here is my quick list of shit that you should never do when writing to a prisoner-
1. Do not put a circle A on the letter or envelope. Many prisons and jails consider “anarchists” to be a gang. I once got thrown into a gang control unit in New Jersey because someone sent me a letter with a circle A and the words “vegan power” on the envelope.
2. Do not mention the prisoner’s sexual preferences unless they have expressed that they are comfortable with discussing it. All prisons have slightly varying cultures, but in general, men’s prisons are hyper masculine and homophobic. Mail does occasionally get stolen, mis-delivered, or read by the wrong folks. You could be putting someone in harms way! Even at women’s prisons, the guards read all incoming mail and a homophobic guard could do a lot of harm to someone.
3. Do not compare your situation to theirs. If I had a dollar for every fucking time someone in the free world referred to the outside as “minimum security” or told me that they understood what I was going through because the college dorms were so very hard on them… You don’t understand incarceration unless you have been incarcerated, and I don’t mean for a weekend after a protest. Spending years under constant surveillance, threat of violence, and without the most basic liberties is unique, if you haven’t been there don’t pretend that you have.
4. Write on plain paper with a plain ball point pen. Don’t put stickers on anything, and don’t enclose postage unless the prisoner has specifically said that they are allowed to receive it. Remember, no glitter, no staples, just paper!
Chad. Or anyone else in Nova, wanna start a letter writing night?
DIY GUIDE TO KILLING OFF ALL BOREDOM
Go outside. Scream your name into The Void. Sit in the sun and feel godlike. Go swim somewhere illegal. Cook a nine-course meal for your friends. Get drunk and cry. Throw up on public property and shout about Tolstoy. Ride a train. Ride a bus. Tell someone off. Smash something important. Climb a tree and read a book. WRITE a book. Be sweet to a baby and let them know that all big people aren’t a) dead inside, b) bored, or c) afraid of adventure. Make your own everything. Stay up all night and walk around the city alone. Learn that you can be a patriot for the land while still hating the government (be a patriot for the deserts, the plains, the mountains, the buffalo, for Woody Guthrie and Frederick Douglass, for 250 years of good books). Find the best genius, which is the genius that speaks plainly. Grow something from a seed. Talk to a dog. Go visit a friend and throw your knife into a river. Sing. Sleep in. Quit your job. Make a zine. Start a war within yourself. Break a law. Destroy all uncandid thought. Open your heart to the sky. Live.
Adam Gnade, from The Do-It-Yourself Guide to Fighting the Big Motherfuckin’ Sad
One of the best ways you can help save Pioneers Press is by ordering this zine. It’s our first published title, so it goes directly towards keeping us alive.
Ordering the moment I get home.
Get scared. It will do you good. Smoke a bit, stare blankly at some ceilings, beat your head against some walls, refuse to see some people, paint and write. Get scared some more. Allow your little mind to do nothing but function. Stay inside, go out - I don’t care what you’ll do; but stay scared as hell. You will never be able to experience everything. So, please, do poetical justice to your soul and simply experience yourself.
“When I was doing Virginia Woolf, and when George and Martha had their scene together and George said, ‘Our son is dead.’ You know, that big scene? ‘Our son,’ he yells in my face, ‘is dead.’ And I went ‘No!’ At the height of my force, I said no to him. And I had an orgasm for the first time in my life.”
—Elaine Stritch speaking with Alec Baldwin on Here’s The Thing
You have ugly talents, Stritchie.