Daniel X. O'Neil: economics

five

Sun, 10 Aug 2003 19:28:36 GMT

five

Illustration 3 : Cop

Wed, 30 Jul 2003 18:57:35 GMT

On The Same Day

Fri, 11 Jul 2003 16:56:17 GMT

Here's another one for the "On The Same Day" files. Lord Shawcross of Friston, Prosecutor at Nuremberg, died on the same day as the anniversary of the massacre at Srebrenica.

Soldiers illustration - page 29

Fri, 11 Jul 2003 13:55:07 GMT

Economics Cover

Wed, 09 Jul 2003 15:32:21 GMT

Here's a look at the cover:

Book Release Party

Tue, 08 Jul 2003 16:17:44 GMT

Economics
Book release party
2023 West Division Street, Chicago
Saturday, July 19, 2003
7 - 10 PM
Book price $17 per copy-- signed, numbered, and dated as first day of release
Lots of free gimmes - necklacepoems, <15> tapes, and more
Call (773) 960-6045 or go danx@juggernautco.com for more information

That's it.

Thu, 24 Apr 2003 12:38:43 GMT

That's the book.
That's all I got.
Publication date: June 1, 2003

-Daniel X. O'Neil, Chicago

APPROACHING PITTSBURGH: 'WHOA. . . HANG ON'

Tue, 22 Apr 2003 13:10:55 GMT

On the afternoon of Sept. 8, 1994, a Boeing 737 flown by USAir approached Pittsburgh International Airport. The weather was good, and the pilots of flight 427 were expecting a routine descent and landing. The first sound on the recording from either pilot is, in fact, a yawn. They are at cruise altitude.

Flight attendant in the cockpit: Do ya know what I'm thinkin' about? Pretzels.

Captain: Pretzels.

F. A.: You guys need drinks here?

Captain: Uh, I could use a glass of somethin', whatever's open. Water, uh, water, a juice.

First Officer: I'll split a, yeah, a water, a juice, whatever's back there, I'll split one with 'im.

F. A.: Okey-dokey. Do you want me to make you my special fruity juice cocktail?

Captain: How fruity is it?

F. O.: All right, I'll be a guinea pig.

The pilots talk to air traffic controllers about reducing their speed. The flight attendant returns with the drinks.

F. A.: If you don't like . . . . I didn't taste 'em so I don't know if they came out right.

Captain: That's good.

F. O.: That is good.

F. A.: It's good.

F. O.: That is different. Be real, be real good with some dark rum in it.

The pilots then talk with Pittsburgh controllers about their approach heading, and then talk more with the flight attendant about their juice drinks.

Captain: It tastes like a ***.

F. O.: Good.

Captain: There's little grapefruit in it.

F. A.: No. (sound of laughter.)

F. O.: *** cranberry.

F. A.: Yeah, you saw that from the color.

Captain: How else is in it?

F. O.: Uh, Sprite?

F. A.: Diet Sprite.

F. O.: Huh.

F. A.: And I guess you could do it with Sprite. Prob'ly be a little better if you do.

Captain: Yeah, there's more?

F. A.: One more.

F. O.: Ah, O.J.?

F. A.: You got it. Cranberry, orange and Diet Sprite.

F. O.: Really nice.

F.A.: It's different. Could ya keep comin' out, aaah, whataya' got different and . . . .

Captain: I always mix the cranberry and the grapefruit. I like that. (sound of aural tone similar to altitude alert)

F. A.: *** O.K., back to work.

A controller tells the pilots to descend and maintain an altitude of 6,000 feet. They make some checks of landing data, shoulder harnesses and other matters. The first officer remarks,"Oops, didn't kiss 'em 'bye," and then tells passengers about weather conditions in Pittsburgh and thanks them for choosing USAir. The pilots slow the aircraft as they descend.

Captain: Boy, they always slow you up so bad here.

F. O.: That sun is gonna be just like it was takin' off in Cleveland yesterday, too. I'm just gonna close my eyes. (laughter) You holler when it looks like we're close. (laughter)

Captain: O.K. (sounds follow that are similar to electrical clicks and thumps) Whoa . . . hang on . . . hang on .. . hang on . . . .

F. O.: Oh, (expletive).

Captain: Hang on. What the hell is this . . . What the . . . oh, God . . . oh, God . . . .

F. O.: (expletive)

Captain: Pull.

F. O.: Oh, (expletive).

Captain: Pull.

F. O.: God. (sound of screaming) No.

End of recording.

The plane's rudder had moved, forcing the plane to skid to the left. The jet then rolled and went into a 300-mile-an-hour corkscrew plunge to the ground, killing all 132 people on board. The safety board has not yet determined what caused the crash.

MORTGAGE CREDIT EXPLANATION LETTER

Sat, 19 Apr 2003 13:55:27 GMT

May 14, 1997

Daniel X. O'Neil
2310 West Wilson Avenue
Chicago, IL 60625

Brendan Cunningham
Midwest Mortgage Express
Suite 420
1-100 East Woodfield Road
Schaumburg, IL 60173

RE: Application for Mortgage Review of Daniel X. O'Neil

Dear Sir or Madam:

This letter provides explanations for each item listed in my credit report
obtained in connection with the above-referenced application for mortgage
review.

1. Unpaid Student Loan Collection Balance Due $1,775. Madison Un. Dated 8/86 and 5/92

These are duplicate items. In June of 1991, I graduated from the University
of Illinois at Chicago. At this time I moved in with a friend at 4317 North
Bell Street in Chicago because I did not have a job and my mother was selling
the family home at 1633 North Wolcott. By Fall I had found a job and moved
into an apartment with at 2101 West Evergreen.

At this time, my six-month grace period had expired and I began to pay back
my student loans to IDAPP. I made regular and faithful payments. I always
believed that the loan I had received while a student at the University of
Wisconsin-Madison was included in what I was paying back to IDAPP. I never
received a bill from UW Madison.

In December of 1997, I saw my former roommate from Bell Street. He gave me
one of the bills that they had been sending there and I immediately called
UW. I immediately paid $775 of the $1,775 that I owed them. I will pay this
loan in full before closing.

2. Late Payments Dated 1/94, 9/96, 10/96, and 11/96 with Current Student Loan
IDAPP Balance $8,617

In December 1993 and January 1994, I was out of town for an extended
performance tour as a poet. I paid my bills before I left town but I missed
this loan payment. I caught up as soon as I returned.

In April 1996, my father was in a car accident. By September 1996 it was
apparent that he needed more healthcare than was provided by Medicare. I
contributed cash along with other family members to help him get by. I paid
all my other bills faithfully but I let this one slip. In December 1996, when
I received my annual bonus, I got caught up with this bill and I have paid on
time and over the minimum payment every month.

3. Late Payments Dated 10/94, 10/95, 11/95, and 5/96 With Household Bank. Current Balance Zero

I have had many problems with MasterCard's billing practices over the years.
In October 1994 I disputed a charge that appeared on my bill for a purchase
that I never made. I withheld payment until the charge was finally deleted.
In October and November of 1995 I had trouble paying this bill because of
out-of-the-ordinary expenses related to publishing my 2nd book of poetry. I
realize now that keeping up with my bills is more important than any other
expense. Now that I am getting married and starting a family, my priorities
have changed, and maintaining a good credit rating for my family's future is
of paramount importance. As for the May 1996 entry, I have no idea why this
appeared on my credit report.

4. Late Payments Dated 3/95, 4/95, and 5/95 With RFS/GECC Household Bank. Current Balance Zero

I do not believe this entry belongs on my credit report. I have never
received a bill from this source. The number listed for this creditor is out
of service and the forwarding number is a personal residence in New Jersey. I
have contested this entry with the credit reporting agency and they have
promised to look into it.

5. Late Payments With Filenes Basement

I have always contested this bill. I purchased defective goods from Filene's
Basement in 1993 and returned them immediately. I was told that the charge
would be deducted from my account. It was never deducted and I refused to pay
the charges. Finally, I decided that $200 was not worth ruining my credit
rating and I paid in full, canceling my account.

6. Why PMI Group and First National Bank Checked My Credit 2/10/97, 2/19/97

PMI Group checked my credit on 2/10/97 because I made an initial call to a
Norwest Mortgage agent in preparation of obtaining a mortgage. First National
Bank checked my credit on 2/19/97 in connection with a Checkguard application.

I sincerely hope that as you review this application, you will take into
account the fact that I have always taken my financial obligations seriously.
I have had intermittent difficulties in paying some bills on time, but as you
can see from my credit report, there are many accounts that I have always
paid on time. As I prepare to start my family this Fall and establish a home,
my credit rating is very important to me.
Thank you for the opportunity to fully explain these items.

Very Truly Yours, Daniel X. O'Neil

SUSAN MOLINARI WORKS ON HER KEYNOTE SPEECH

Tue, 15 Apr 2003 01:13:13 GMT

Afternoon photo from
the pre-speech news conference has her hunched up on
the
lunch table leaning over toward
the cameras with her right hand balled up
in a
loose fist and crooked up over by her left shoulder.
Dole sat next to her.
I
think she's got his limp night appendage on her mind and is trying real
hard
to
get it out.

WAIT A MINUTE

Mon, 31 Mar 2003 12:18:21 GMT

The difference between flotsam and jetsam:
Flotsam is stuff floating in water,
and
jetsam is stuff floating in water
that had been thrown overboard.

WAIT A MINUTE

Most of us remember the thwacked
nature of birth,
where at one point our own internal
midwives said jump while the
planet spun and spun and spun.

So, with the exception of C-section
babies, then,
who were lifted and not hurled from
the watery womb,
aren't we all just a bunch of
overgrown jetsam around here?

PROJECT: WHAT SMELLS?

Thu, 27 Mar 2003 12:16:17 GMT

August 3, 1998

1. The odor is strongest in the basement workroom.
2. Foul smell-- Bad food Dead animal?
3. Smells less at ground level standing up.
4. Smell has somewhat dissipated.
5. Smell started on Thursday, which is when I removed rotten fruit salad from refrigerator
6. The dehumidifier has been on for 3 days and has not helped the smell.
7. The smell is stronger inside the workroom than just outside the back door.
8. The smell is immediately noticeable as soon as you walk in the door, but less in the front than in the back
9. It smells more near the refrigerator than it does the workroom.

6 August 1998 thurs

update:

The smell seems to
have dissipated.
This weekend I'll
clean down there
real well.

9 August 1998 sun

The stench has
returned with a
fervor. More on the
outside of the back
basement door than
anywhere.

Maybe we should get
the sewer reamed
out although it doesn’t
smell like sewage.

Aug 11 1998

Smells the worst ever
right now. Closed the
door to workroom.

1. The smell started
on the day of the
Streams BBQ.

2. Describing the smell:
foul, pungent, sweet,
skunky.

Q: Should I open the
door and let flies
lead me to the
spot?

17 August 1998 Mon

update:

The smell was the worst
ever yesterday. Also
the most pervasive
via the air condition-
ing.

Talked to Kurt across
the street. He says
it's probably the
trap in the basement
floor drain(s). He says
that when the P trap
gets dried out, which
I may have contributed
to by not having any
water flow down it
for a long time
and having the dehu-
midifier run right
next to it.

When the air con-
ditioner kicks in it
pulls the smells out
of the drain and into
the basement, especially
the workroom because
of some sort of
warm/ cold air move-
ment situation.

The smell would
be a combination
of perfumes and dyes and
soap and anything that
goes down our
sink drains.

I poured water down
there last night.
This morning: very
little smell.

Poured another
bucket down there.
But: I also had
the air conditioning
off. So I am not
convinced that it is
not MOLD from the
air conditioning. So
I turned the AC
on this morning.

If there is no or
a small smell, the
problem is solved.

19 August 1998 wed

Monday night:
The smell returned.
Not super-strong, but
there. Imbued the
house.

Yesterday:
Still there.

Last night:
Talked to Kurt again.
He says throw bleach
down the drain to
kill whatever smells.

As I threw the bleach
down the drain in floor,
it occurred to me that
the crux of the smell
is probably in the
elongated P-trap
of the double wash
utility basin:

[illustration]
problem.

This makes sense for
a # of reasons:

I did swish out
a goodly amount of
mold from the
moldy fruit salad
on the morning of
Thursday July 31,
the day of the Streams
picnic.

The smell was first
noticed that evening,
which means the
mold would have
had time
to take hold in
the awkward P-
trap.

That would also
explain the dissipation
period, which I believe
coincides with Monica
doing laundry, thereby
washing water down
the drain but allow-
ing the mold to grow back.

So I poured bleach
down all sink and
bath drains, cleaned
the tubs downstairs
with a bleachy
vengeance in the
form of that small
green bleach cleaning
product along with a sponge.
I disinfected every-
thing in the area, in-
cluding buckets, garbage
cans, the washer &
dryer, and the
refrigerator. All
bleach-cleaned.

This morning:
Smell gone.
If it's still gone
tomorrow, I have
succeeded. If
not, and even if
so, I will have

to ream the pipes
with a snake.

24 August 1998 mon
@ home

It didn't work.

On Saturday I borrowed
Dennis' (next-door
neighbor) electric
auger.

Couldn’t really get
it to work.

Cleaned out the
outside drain gunk
by hand.

Sent garden hose
down both floor
drains, which worked.
The water flowed perfectly
fine.

Opened up sewer
and swished it
out; cleaned around
it.

Cleaned underneath
porch so I can get
at the stuff.

Smell gone.

Then Sunday:
Smell still gone
from inside drain
but remains from
outside drain.

Then today:
No smell at all.

Analysis:
I need to send water
down the drains
every day for a
while.

Use the drain clean-
ing products I
purchased:

Drain-O for pipes and
A more heavy-
duty product
for the drains.

28 August 1998 Fri

It only smells now in
the workroom.

I threw 8 oz. of the
drain cleaner down
the basement tub
but haven't checked
to see if it worked.

JAMES (BUDDHA) EDWARDS, TONIGHT IN SACRAMENTO

Tue, 25 Mar 2003 12:54:59 GMT

February 1, 1996, Bulls beat Kings 105-85.

1/2-way into the
first quarter, tonight in Sacramento, his first game off the injured list,
James
(Buddha)
Edwards sets a mid-court screen on the King's Mitch Richmond and he
flattens the guy. Just laid him
flat out and he had this look on his face like
oh shit James Edwards just flattened me by just standing there.

How to Do An Art Galllery Field Trip for 6th, 7th, and 8th Graders

Mon, 24 Mar 2003 12:21:00 GMT

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, March 28, 29, and 30th, 2000.

The purpose of this field trip is to introduce the students to the economics of art and to get them thinking about careers in art. We focus on art dealers, artists, and art critics while also teaching some fundamental concepts about economic geography and the capitalist economy.

The day begins @ 8:30: with an in-school presentation by Queens parent Dan O’Neil (773) 583-9261. First we lay the foundation for the economics of art:

We define "economy", which can be then broken down into “sectors”, of which the art trade is one of them. Then we talk about the activities and roles that make up the art trade:

Artist make art, dealers sell art and deal with artists, and buyers buy and contribute to marketing and valuations. Critics criticize, report, and help build opinion. Art Handlers, Restorers, Framers, Movers, etc. sell the goods and services that surround art.

The kids are then prompted to choose one of the careers and write about why they chose it and/or actually come up with something like a drawing or a poem or a plan for how they are going to make money selling art or some criticism.

As they write, go through the room and find out about what the kids are interested in being. Artist, Art Dealer, and Critic are popular. The tangential roles-- framer, handler, eupplier, etc. don't weem to appeal to them all that much
.
Remember what they say about why they like that career and try to address it somehow at the gallery.

The Dealers are told they will meet with a real art dealer who will tell them the tricks of the trade and what it takes to succeed. Their assignment is to write down what they learned.

The Critics are told they should say whatever they want but they have to back it up with the facts-artist, title, price, etc. Their assignment is to criticize some of the art, whether it is the current show or another artist.

The Artists are told that they should make art while they are at the gallery. Because that is what artists do.

We also talk about the fundamentals of economics and the inherent conflicts in the economics of art:

Supply and Demand
Training/ Education
Publicity

And cover some of the inherent conflicts in this economy:

Artists want to make what they want to make
Dealers want Artists to make things that sell
Critics want to impress their vision of art on the world and have influence

At 9:30: we travel by school bus to a working art gallery, the David Leonardis Gallery, 1352 North Paulina, 773-278-3058. Along the way we point out areas of art interest.

When we pass the police station we talk about prisoner art, where they fashion wallets and jewelry from gum wrappers. This is an example of folk art. The artists use whatever material is available.
When we go over the new Damen Street Bridge we point out the great civil engineering.
Then we stop in front of the Double Door on Milwaukee at Damen and teach the kids about economic geography. The fact that people live where they can afford to live--where they can get a job that pays enough to live there. Artists moved into Wicker Park about 20 years ago because the rents were cheap enough for them while they took the necessary time to get experiences, learn the trade, and build the publicity it takes to make a lot of money
as an artist.It’s not like a doctor or lawyer, where you make a certain amount of money upon graduation. These are more speculative careers w/ more risk that takes more time. Then dealers find the artists. And art buyers find the dealers. And critics find them all. And other people come in to sell to the whole lot of them. (This is the “let them dig for gold; I’ll sell them the pick” approach.)
Point out art spots visible from the bus: The Flat Iron Building has lots of artists in it (to the left side of the bus).
The Idao Gallery is behind them.The Double Door, a rock club (for musical art) is to the right of the bus. I saw the Smashing Pumkins there in Feb. 1995.

At 10:00: we get to the gallery. David Leonardis gives a short presentation on the gallery and what he does. Explain the layout of the gallery, the “current show” gallery space, storage, other artist’s work, etc. Talk about the different styles, methods, materials, etc. Pop, contemporary, folk, photography, 19th century French lithographs.

The kids are guided around the gallery. The Dealers go off with Dave and he talks to them about what he does. Geri Paige, gallery employee, and Dan talk to the remaining students and talk about each of the genres & careers, taking care to address each student’s interest.

At 10:45: we re-gather in the main gallery and share examples from each of the three careers. Kids share their drawings, poems, dealer lessons, and criticisms in front of the group. Only kids who want to present their work do so.

At 11:00: we finish it off by telling the kids that no matter what career they choose “in art or not” it’s a great thing to participate in the economics of art.

© 2003 Daniel X. O'Neil

CALORIE COUNT

Thu, 13 Mar 2003 13:21:10 GMT

Zine Publishers & Ideal Economic Strategies for the Next Capitalist Century

The zine publishing movement is one of the bona fide bust-out cultural movements of the 1990s. Though American zines trace their roots back to mimeographed sci-fi publications of the 1940s, the current mix of personal, non-traditional sex, fringe political, punk music, Jesus freak religious, sicko comix, conspiracy theorist, and work-is-hell zines has grown to huge proportions. And huge proportion in 1990s America of course means inevitable co-optation by corporate America. Many trees have been chopped down in the service of the Great Sellout Debate. The arguments usually go like this:

On the zine side:

Zine publishers are the last of the True Believers in a world full of fakes and sell-outs. They toil over their little zines, keeping it real and not bowing down before The Man. They design their publications in a graphic attempt to deflect the attention of mass media and frat-boy coolies looking for street cred. The content is often obscure and disturbing for the same cocoonish reasons. When the media calls to research their Lifestyle-section trend pieces they either lie outright or hang up the phone. They don't accept advertising from sell-out record companies or corporate b.s. artists. Happiness is achieved by staying small, allowing only the select few cool people into their thumb-nosing club.

On the sell-out side:

Zine publishers labor in lonely obscurity for years. When the dominant culture arrives in the form of advertising execs, New York Times interviewers, and book company reps, they should jump at the chance to do what they want and get paid for it. The prevailing rationale for this group is that if they can have some effect on the dominant culture by making them more aware of the joys of thrift store shopping or liberal politics or whatever their own particular interest happens to be, then they will be proud to "work from the inside" to boldly change The System.

A good handle on the Great Sellout Debate can be had by reading back issues of Factsheet 5, the zine review magazine out of San Francisco that serves as the guidebook of the zine movement.

But the Great Sellout Debate, like most arguments producing more heat than light, focuses on a wrong-headed dynamic-the movement of people from the zine underground to the dominant culture and the co-optation of the zine underground by the dominant culture. The debate presupposes that there are static worlds of the real and the fake-the underground contains zines called "Murder Is Fun" and the dominant culture beams out William Burroughs posing in NIKE ads.

But these arguments are based on a Founding Fallacy that the two worlds are separated to begin with. Real life is not so tidy.

I say that zine publishers are the primary examples of a new category of capitalist, purveyors of a unique form of capitalist individualism that will thrive in the next century of American-style "free"-market democracy. This scenario is much more chaotic than the simple movement between Underground and Dominant cultures. The world economy is so all-inclusive that it embraces both good and evil. No one can do good, like clothe themselves and feed their children, w/o bowing down before the presence of evil. I mean no one- not factory workers @ cigarette plants and not zine publishers who smoke the ciggies that drive up health care costs for everyone. Anyone who pours ketchup out of a bottle and thinks they are untouchable is fooling themselves. Every single economic activity is a portion of the overall economy with potentially good and evil effects. And everything in late 90s America is an economic activity.

The fundamental fact to begin with is that everyone, from publishers of nipple-piercing zines to Mail Boxes Etc. franchisees, needs to eat food in order to live. Almost as important as food is a modicum of self-worth to impel oneself out of bed every day. So obtaining enough calories for oneself and one's family while performing economic activities that don't promote self-loathing is the state of grace that most people are looking for.

The truth is that zine publishers have independently developed, in some Darwinian unselfconsciousness, a unique set of traits that will be very useful for success in the economy of the next century. The next century will house a world in which the dominant culture will function much more like the zine world than the zine world will adapt to fit the dominant culture. A world in which zines aren't just considered a minor-league development zone for the dominant culture. A world in which the dominant culture is redefined to include a zillion customized worlds.

Zine publishers possess a discreet set of characteristics that make them model capitalists for the next century: rejection of dominant media, truly independent ownership, appropriation of existing content, small-cell distribution of highly specialized products, and a de-emphasis on privacy and decorum.

Managing the 15-minute media beast

The true believers of zine publishing refuse to cooperate with the dominant media. Generally, zine publisher's main imperative is to provide content missing from the dominant media. Their mission is in direct opposition to the crap machine of daily media. And they don't usually look kindly at the media's attempt to contact them and shine light on their scene. Of course this endlessly perplexes the reporters and TV crews who come knocking to bag a story. They're used to the populace knocking down babies and grandmothers just to get a chance to wave at the red light on the top of a camera.

But zine publishers are on to something that I am convinced will be a commonly accepted notion in the next century: The media cycle does nothing but build and destroy. That which it builds it destroys. If one critic raves about you, another will howl at you. If you end up in the news too long, they'll devise survey questions that are designed to produce unfavorable results, like "Are you tired of hearing about the Nanny Trial?" after 167 straight hours of Nanny Trial coverage.

When Andy Warhol made his statement about 15 minutes of fame, he presented it almost as a victimless crime, with no moral component whatsoever. But if you examine the 15 minutes cliché you see how quaint and misguided it is.

The media beast swoops up new subjects every 15 minutes, chews them up, and digests them. The beast strips the goodness from each individual and turns it into the nutrients in the form of ratings and commercial time. Then the beast passes a stool every quarter hour and searches for more.

James Cameron, director of Titanic, stood up in front of the TV world at the Oscars and proclaimed that he was in fact "King of the World". More like flavor of the month. His 15 minutes may have lasted longer than most, but eventually a towering prince like "Lost In Space" comes along to whop off the head of the king. Working outside of the mainstream promotion/ destruction system, the zine publisher is not slimed by this bilious system.

De-consolidation and individual ownership

Having your own business is one of the great American orgasms, right along with home ownership. Of course most "home owners" actually own a mortgage, not a home. A mortgage is just the right to pay a bank basically double what your house is worth over the course of 30 years or so. That's the kind of mumble-speak that passes itself off every day as the Holy Grail of American life.

Owning a business is often the same thing. Pick up a magazine like Franchising Today. You'll see straight-faced exultations to "work for yourself" by paying a $15-80,0000 up-front fee for the right to open up a business that sells burgers made with the same recipe that tens of thousands of other people "working for themselves" are making all over the world. Sure. Work for yourself, but wipe your mouth with my napkins, wash your floor with my mops, put my name on the sign out in front, and oh, by the way, cough up 9% of gross sales every month or we'll cancel your ass.

Zine publishers don't have to pay royalties to anyone. They publish to please themselves. They write about what interests them, reprint what tickles them, and never have to answer to the front office. They are the front office. They can print as often or as infrequently as they like, and they don't have to go into deficit spending to get their zine printed. They may have layout conventions-layered texts and photos, saddle-stitching, &etc., but those are driven more by an inward aesthetic and production limitations than any sense of conformity. And unlike grossly misnamed "independent labels" of the music industry that are wholly-owned subsidiaries of multinational corporations, zine publishers usually control all aspects of the manufacture & distribution processes.

Despite, or maybe because of, the global trend toward corporate consolidation, an explosion of this type of individualistic capitalism seems inevitable. The Internet is a great leveler of the business climate. Big companies might be able to spend more money on a website, but any decent webmaster can get his or her hands on the exact same features like animation, sound, video, and so on. No matter how much money you throw at a website, as of now you can still only view one web page at a time. Any small-time operation that can compete.

Steal This Means of Production

Most of the capitalist world gets pretty uptight about private ownership of intellectual property. Companies like Walt Disney pay millions of dollars a year to lawyers who pump out "cease and desist" letters to mom and pop stores who put a picture of a mouse up in their windows.

But again, the Internet is piercing a hole in the old way of doing things. You can find fan-run websites devoted to pop TV shows like Seinfeld and Friends where people compose entire new episodes using the proprietary characters of the NBC series. Web-surfing is built for theft. Any time you see some content you like-whether it's a newspaper story or a chat room transcript-quicker than you can say "Apple-A/ Apple C/ Apple V", you've captured the content and placed on your hard drive. No payment, no problem.

The zine world had been working with looser standards of re-appropriation long before the advent of the three Ws. Casual flouting of copyright law is a badge off honor to zine publishers. The ethic amongst themselves is that you can reprint whatever you want, as long as you attribute the source, including address.

The Code of the Small

The incredible variety of zines is a perfect example of supermarket America. There is literally something for everyone. Nothing is revered more in a capitalist economy than choice. People demand a wide variety of toilet paper and breakfast cereal. There's fragrant and unscented. Nice colors and dye-free. Single rolls and Economy Packs. Sugary and wheat. Purple and heart-shaped.

It's the same thing with zines. You've got right-wing paramilitary tracts and anarchist cookbooks. Jewish culture zines and Armageddon warning leaflets. Racist zines and love zines. Zine publishers think nothing of bailing on their zine about Barbie dolls and starting a zine about travel to Asia. The ability to switch gears quickly is one of the central skills of the new economy.

Another valuable service in the economy of the next century is the ability to deliver customized goods and services quickly. Zine publishers have the goods on that count.

Privacy is Not a Virtue

Americans have a strange psychosis about privacy that is on its way out as far as I'm concerned. Bill Clinton had the various locations of his penis broadcast ad infinitum and no one cared. Cash machine computers, highway toll-collecting transponders, and traffic video cameras constantly track our location and make life easier. The American public seems to be perfectly willing to trade privacy for convenience.

The Perzine, or personal zine, is a chatty/ confessional type of zine whose only subject is the zine publisher. A great example is Pathetic Life, a zine started by a guy in California after his girlfriend dumped him because he was too fat and watched too much TV. Almost every zine starts with a personal note from the publisher which reveals a lot of personal details.

So, again, zine publishers are up ahead of the curve on the cultural/ capitalist continuum, primed to make a living with the traits they've developed on the economy's fringes. No more sell out. The world economy is sliding up next to them, individualists who can stay that way and still find enough to eat.

LIFE AFTER CHRISTMAS

Wed, 12 Mar 2003 12:55:14 GMT

I dragged the
Christmas tree through
the front door in
a blunt ceremony
of collapsing pine
and shivered-off
needles, dragged
into the crisp night
scratching through
threadbare snow,
thrust through the
front door on the
back end of joy.

For every fresh moment
of top-of-the-car
excitement, untying
the flush growth
and gently fixing
the geography to
make it fit just
right, go up straight.

For every moment like
this there is an
equal bolt out
into the night
so that things
may go back
where they were.
Or more true, so
that the bare spot
on the floor and
in the entrance-
mind of my family
can be considered
in a new light.

January 1, 1999

TREE

Tue, 11 Mar 2003 12:00:47 GMT

If only
the lights had been timed different
I would have made that S bound Damen
bus
but oh
don't worry about it another one will come
but probably not soon enough if
I
know the Damen bus.

(If a bus driver cannot hear you
from a block away why bother yelling for
him
to stop but what is
life but a test of the possible?)

DEIRDRE AND BEATRICE POEM

Mon, 10 Mar 2003 12:34:47 GMT

I saw you guys last Friday
on your last day of work
circa 6:15 as I walked out of Jewel toward the
David Leonardis Gallery.

You’re biking gracefully in full stride,
Beatrice, safe in her helmet, and
careening toward home.

I was going to say something stupid like
“Hey Deirdre” or something like that but
just decided to watch you two turn the corner and keep
pedaling so well where you must.

BARRY RODGERS POEM

Sat, 08 Mar 2003 12:18:49 GMT

And I respect Barry's o-
pinion very much. He is
a very good friend. And
he feels for me, and
his wife, a soon-to-be
PhD therapist in her
own right, and I've
known her since high school.
LeAnn Rodgers nee Napoli.
Her grandfather on her
father's side was Judge
Napoli, the first Italian-
American judge in the
Northern District of
Illinois. God bless
him-- no-- forget that
phrase-- Pope John Paul II
bless him-- that is
my new overall blessing
because I want him to be
beatified and eventually
sainted in my lifetime
and I will work to
make that happen.

I believe, in my heart
and mind, that the
living Pope John Paul II
can perform miracles.

So we glorify his Jubilee
Year, which he always
played as important in
the press, after he got
Parkinson's Disesase, and
he always looked to 2000
in his writings and proc-
lamations, and when it
finally came, and him
trembling, and he pushed open
the double doors of the Vatican
open at midnight new years eve
and he so holy and bowed,
down on reflex yes he was,
and the cardinals surround him
on the altar, I will repeat
myself until he trembles
no more and is still.

OBITPOEM: WILLIAM FERRIS

Thu, 06 Mar 2003 12:11:28 GMT

(Delivered)

Ferris, one of the nation's leading
choral composers and a devout Ca-
tholic, was leading his William Fer-
ris Chorale in a rehearsal of Giu-
seppe Verdi's towering Requiem,
arguably the most Catholic of all
choral masterpieces, Tuesday eve-
ning at St. Thomas the Apostle
Church, in Hyde Park, when he col-
lapsed on the podium, the victim of
a massive heart attack.

The chorus had been singing
the final section,"Libera me"
(whose Latin text includes the lines
"Deliver me, O Lord, from everlast-
ing death" and"Eternal rest grant
them, O Lord, and let perpetual
light shine upon them"), when the
director faltered, fell backward and
was helped to the floor.

Ferris received CPR on the scene
from one of his choristers who is al-
so a physician, as the 100-member
chorus stood in stunned silence.
Several were in tears, and many
were observed praying. He was
rushed to the University of Chicago
Hospitals but never recovered.

HOW I GOT MY HERNIA

Wed, 05 Mar 2003 12:25:06 GMT

Sunday 11 hours of work not a day
of rest. Monday stress/firing line work.
Monday night Ina/mother-in-law here nurse
practitioner trade show with Monica aftermath.
Still no daycare/loading & unloading
boxes of drug and treatment samples.
Kenny from across the street/drunk
ouside unloading a TV
into his house
with degenerate/asks me to help
move his car w/him as I load
samples into Ina's car/come
back inside and gravity wins
apparently from a weird position
of picking up goods. Later that
night my abdomen hurt and I was
well on my way to a red-haired
surgery.

UNCLEAN HANDS

Tue, 04 Mar 2003 11:53:56 GMT

You, Me, and the Court of American Equity

when i was a paralegal at a
law firm, i worked in
chancery court,
the court of equity.

chancery seeks to bring
affairs into equilibrium.
it seeks to make things equal,
repair out-of-whack
relationships.

it is a very poetic court.
uses very poetic language.
it has doctrines laid out like
poetry and speaks in dictums.

one is the principle of
unclean hands. it states that no one
can seek remedy in chancery--
no one can seek equity--
unless they
come to the court with clean
hands.

and we seek that daily.

unclean hands
and the stinky bottom.
try to wipe
& you still can't get clean.
that's the source of modern anguish--
wipe and wipe
still can't get clean.

you made the choice
of charmin over white cloud.
or store brand over scott.
you made your choice
& still can't get clean.
you sold out to toilet paper
wipe and wipe
still got shit
between your cheeks.

we've got unclean hands
& it makes us sad.
we think we're clean,
that's what we bought.

but the phoenix is the ashes
& there's no such thing
as tragedy w/o profit.

just one economy
and it feeds us all
it's a morbid thing
& it makes us sad.

we are all in this
economy together.
& it can't be beat
or sold out to &
can only be fed by us
as long as we live--
and or die into ashes.

because the phoenix is the ashes.
here's an example--
flight 800
goes down in the drink.
the sky--
a burning thing.
the ocean-- a horror show.

looks like a tragedy.
lots of death.
fire. rains of fire.
planeload of teenagers
on a senior trip.

but this economics event
(everything is an economic event)
stimulated local economies near where
the plane went down
in many wild and wonderful ways.

like what about the clam dredging ships
that got pressed into service?
they were fallow:
business dried up.

then they are called
right into action
and signed under contract--

get out there, clam dredgers
and scrape the ocean floor
for bodies and plane parts
wrenched into the bed.
new applications for exciting
technologies.

& what about long island hotels
filled to capacity
with the fbi
and ntsb?

and the local bars
holding off-duty reporters
and don't we all know
how good they tip?

don't those bartenders deserve
their profit nights
for being there
when the chips were down?

who's to say
they don't get theirs?
sure, the plane's down.
but the phoenix is the ashes.

and we pull down on the roll
and apply gently, stroke back
and forth between the cheeks we
won't be able to get it all
but we try we try we try.

and the phoenix is the ashes.
here's another example-
oklahoma city bombing
& scottish tim mcveigh

wish it didn't happen
this guy couldn't die
soon enough for me.
glad he's dead.
wish he didn't do it.

but take a look:
broken skull of a building.
children dead.
lots of screams.
looks like a tragedy.
it's got all the fixings.
blood and brains
2 blocks away.

but cnn ratings
went through the roof
and so did the bonuses
of atlanta executives.

and the building boom
in the suburbs of the south
creates lots of jobs
for carpenters & mailmen.
who are you to say
those carpenter's kids
don't get to go to college
on overtime money?

did not raises and bonuses
in marketing departments
across the nation
hinge on post-bomb coverage?

sturdy career moves
grow from
decayed corpses on the
oklahoma landscape like
flagpoles outside the
united nations.

and what about the exhibit books
they needed for the trial
to put our dear bomber
in the electric seat?

need lots of copies.
need a set for the judge.
need a set for the jury.
need a set for the defense.
need a set for the prosecution.

oh my goodness
says kinkos managers
kinkos hires more workers.
got to make more
exhibits for the trial.

bring em in!
give em an application!
get em on the machine!
get this job out the door!

because the phoenix is the ashes.
& it makes us sad inside.
but that doesn't mean
we don't cash that check.

it's unclean hands
& it makes us sad.
don't look back.
cash that check.

the ends don't need
to justify the means
because we are now all means,
there are no ends anymore.
there is only the economy.

how about insurance money?
that's a simple one.
someone dies.
wish they hadn't.
check comes in the mail.
put it in the bank.

get a real estate agent.
buy a house.
agents get theirs.
you're in a house.
you're still sad.
but you cashed that check.

because the phoenix is the ashes.
here's another example.
forest fire burns.
it's a flaming thing.
inferno. charred bark.
steamed ground. trees gone.

but who are we to say
that the little bumbershoot flowers
don't get their chance in the sun?

and who should cry
for those tall trees
with the selfish canopies

sucking up all the sun?
why do we strike our breast for them
and not joy to the flowers?

the little flowers
who try to get up down below
& now they've got their chance.
you see, the phoenix is the ashes.
and it makes us sad inside.
there is no such thing
as a complete tragedy.

just two more examples.
persian gulf war.
750,000 iraqis dead
for great gas prices.

because the phoenix is the ashes.
looks like it was worth it.
3/4 million, a decade of starvation.
babies dying w/o milk.

but what did we get?
sport utility vehicles.
a whole new class of detroit products
and who will rise
against the suv?

Not me.
i've got one too.
it's disgusting and true.
but my babies ride nice.

so we've got it going on.
and it only took 3/4 million,
and a decade of starvation
and stone age privation.
looks like it was worth it.

so keep on drivin'.
don't look back.
cash that check.
feeling good.

it's the buoyant 90s.
don't look back.
keep on drivin'.
cash that check.

because the phoenix is the ashes.
i've got one last example-
clinton's china.
not nice.
repressive & tight.

but jiang zemin comes
and clinton opens arms.
most favored nation!
because they've got markets
& that looks good to us.

c'mon in jiang.
i'm on my knees.
it's gonna taste good
because you're chinese!

1.2 billion.
that's a lot of toilet paper.
so bring 'em in,
clinton says panting.

so keep on drivin'.
don't look back.
it's the buoyant 90s.
cash that check.
feeling good.

it's the buoyant 90s.
don't look back.
keep on drivin'.
cash that check.

it's the buoyant 90s.
it's the buoyant 90s.
it's the buoyant 90s.
so keep your fucking mouth shut.

VOLGARE PROCLAMATION

Mon, 03 Mar 2003 11:47:55 GMT

Employing this new Manuscripts Folio Typeface by Stephen Farrell to Demand an Accounting of the 8,000 or so People Killed in the Massacre of Srebrenica.

Between Tuesday, July 11, and Friday, July 14, 1995, in a UN-designated “safe area”, the Bosnian Serb military, led by General Ratko Mladic, blew past a small contingent of doomed UN peacekeepers and swept down on Srebrenica, a town of 40,000 people.

They separated the men from the women and children, an act that through time has meant trouble. They hanged the men from trees and slit their throats on the streets outside their homes. They raped the women and children and kicked them out of town. They sent the remaining military-aged men “to Bratunac, where Bosnian Serb officers said they would be questioned for possible war crimes”, according to the New York Times report.

This typeface is based on the 1601 handwriting of a clerk in Florence, Italy. This clerk was performing a simple act that is one hallmark of a civilized society: Every time someone died, they added the name of that person, and the day that person died, and the neighborhood that person lived in, to a list.

That list was kept in a central place, so that everyone could know what happened to that person, and so that person’s son could now inherit that person’s land, or that person’s spouse might think about marrying someone else, or that person’s brother might come and comfort the living.

Lists are big this way. They determine who gets paid on Friday, who owes who how much money, who belongs in jail, who is qualified to do taxes or perform brain surgery in your state, who gets their water from what municipality, who can drive what kind of vehicle, and who can build what where. Being on the right list at the right time makes all the difference in the world.

Now these lists consist of language. Written language is made up of words and characters and symbols. These are in turn made up lines and curves and dots and ink and light. The type designer gives this stuff form, taking bits and parts of expression and culture to make a new way to write. The typographer necessarily reflects and alters the society in which their work is created.

The stuff of this typeface in particular are 16 pages of the singular scratches and penstrokes of one person who lived in Florence, Italy in 1601. Stephen Farrell was not thinking of the 8,000 in Srebrenica when he cobbled together these ™ and © and $.

But the choice of such a human material from so deep in the manger of our civil laws and structure guarantees it would speak straight to us. The making of list reeks of order, discipline, and succession. This typeface was built the same way the International system of nation-states was—- with the remnants of Europe’s political and social institutions banged through the mouth of American English.

And the breakdown of decency in the middle of Europe is a direct threat to that order. Anywhere that the International system of nation-states is flouted by creeps; the whole system goes to pot.

The written document which now applies to Bosnia and Herzegovina is the Dayton Peace Plan. It calls for the killers to be caught and tried but no one wants to disturb the signators whose generals gave the orders and soldiers did the killing.

I don’t know what typeface the Dayton Peace Plan is set in, but whomever designed it must be very proud.

We now know that 8,000 men were killed in those few days in Srebrenica, 400 years and five hundred miles from the list of the dead in Florence. But there is no list of the dead in Srebrenica, and a list of the missing is not good enough.
It is fitting and right that someone would take this typeface and use it to talk back at Europe with a reflective, terrified glance. For those of us who write in English today, the craggy lips of the Romantic languages look back at us each time we see our own words.

With this typeface and a computer anyone can compose a document in the deliberate image of those who have gone before in dignified civility. That is what I do now, in my hand, in this typeface—demand a list of the dead from those who killed them.

POEM: Chauvinism

Sun, 02 Mar 2003 19:36:58 GMT

There are those who believe
that American chauvinism
is a virtue
and I
am one
of them.

BALTHUS AND EARNHARDT ARE DEAD

Sat, 01 Mar 2003 12:15:39 GMT

May 24, 1999

Death is weird in a pop culture world. It is the ultimate moment of individuality--even if surrounded by family, or in front of TV cameras, or as part of a massacre, you die alone. It is a condition entered into by oneself. Yet death is also a circumstance, a piece of reality, a bit of news, that necessary relates to other circumstances. And as a necessity of its existence, pop news culture is good at presenting big wads of circumstances forever locked together in the same news cycle.

I am a dedicated reader of obituaries. Unlike the news that results from canned press releases, staged congressional hearings, fully-briefed court sessions, and long-scheduled sports events, the configuration of an obituary page is uncontrollable. Not one entity--a company, a country, a lawyer, a group of athletes--can determine who ends up next to each other on the obituary page. There's power in that kind of messiness.

Aside from learning a lot about a wide variety of subjects that dead people have made a life's work from, I tend to look for patterns and meaning out of obituaries. Samuel Beckett died in the last week of December 1989, and at the time I thought to myself, "his body couldn't stand to take one breath of the 1990s." Mother Theresa only lasted about two weeks in a world that didn't hold Lady Di anymore. Frederico Fellini and River Phoenix died on the same day. For some reason, Ronald Reagan still lives.

So yesterday (02/18/01) was a banner day for someone like me. Dale Earnhardt, one of the greatest race car drivers ever, and Balthus, one of the great European painters of the century, died on the same day. Now I can't imagine a single place--besides maybe an online death poll--where the words "Balthus" and "Earnhardt" were uttered in the same sitting. They each led lives that almost certainly never considered the other. Yet there they were, dead and together forever.

The patterns of Balthus and Earnhardt:

News of Balthus' death made the front page, below the fold, of the New York Times, which ran the simple headline "Balthus Dies" along with a photo of his 1935 self-portrait. People who read the New York Times like to think that they know obscure things like who Balthus is.

News of Earnhardt's death made the front page, below the fold, of the New York Times, which ran the headline "Stock Car Star Killed on Last Lap of Daytona 500" along with a photo of his car being T-boned by the #86 M&Ms car. People who read the New York Times like to act like they don't know who Dale Earnhardt is.

In the middle of his career, Balthus worked with a new medium, casein tempura on canvas, to produce a series of figure paintings that burnished his reputation.

At the end of his life, Earnhardt, worked with NASCAR to help bring them into a new medium in the first broadcast of their first network television season.

Balthus smoked Camel cigarettes incessantly and lived to be 92.

Earnhardt drove for the Winston Cup incessantly and lived to be 49.

Balthus was befriended as a child by the poet Rainer Maria Rilke, who helped his development as an artist.

Earnhardt befriended Michael Waltrip, helped his development as a driver, and helped him win his first race on Sunday by blocking other cars from reaching him.

Balthus once said of himself, "Balthus is a painter about whom nothing is known."

After winning the Daytona 500 for the first time in 1998, Earnhardt said, "I was going to try to go for the hole. I went for the hole and made it. Fortunately nobody else wrecked behind me and we got through there OK."

Balthus was raised in Paris, France, which is full of haughty little people who are much too cultured for something like a Business Park.

Earnhardt was born and raised in Kannapolis, North Carolina, which recently announced the development of Kannapolis Gateway Business Park. Located off I-85 along the new Kannapolis Parkway and Highway 73, the 100-acre park will feature approximately 753,000 square feet of industrial space and 10 acres for a retail center.

Balthus made a lot of paintings while alive.

Earnhardt painted a lot of towns red while alive.

Last May, Sotheby's got $3,085,750 for Balthus' "Nu Aux Bras Leves". The 59 3/8-by-32 1/2-inch oil on canvas depicts a naked adolescent girl stretching while seated on a bed.

Earnhardt is motorsports' leading all-time money winner with $41,639,662 in his career, but probably made much more on related Earnhardt merchandise, including bedspreads.

Balthus was a painter and stage designer, just like his father.

Earnhardt was a race car driver, just like his father.

Balthus died in his chalet in La Rossiniere, Switzerland.

Earnhardt died in his Chevrolet in Daytona, Florida.

Balthus is survived by a wife and children.

Earnhardt is survived by a wife and children.

Balthus and Earnhardt excelled.