On Depression, Revolution, Anarchy

#762 Work in Progress.JPG

It’s difficult for a person to hear themselves when they’re depressed. That’s why listening is more effective than any advice you might give, and why telling them you love them, or how much they are valued–only makes things worse.

In being heard, in being listened too, it becomes possible to hear one’s own voice–to hear, as others hear, the deprecating voices… and recognize what they are saying as distortions of the truth. It’s how we find our own way back.

The deprecating voices are external images of self that we have assimilated. No external voice will lead us out of their traps, because it’s our susceptibility to them that caught us in those webs, and to find freedom again to breath on our own, resistance has to rise from the depths of our own being. No one can do it for us, and no one else can show us how.

Keep that in mind when you offer reassurance, and are refused. The refusal is not a symptom of the malady.
Listen! Listen with such depth of attention that the person you would help, hears in their refusal, their own assertion of a will-to-health, and the means to restoration of their freedom

I think there is an analogy here to what we have to do to free ourselves from oppressive social forces.

No one ‘out there’ can save us. No Moses can come to lead us out of Pharos’s Egypt. There are no ready-made maps or instruction books or revolutionary plans. The first step, always–the beginning we need to return to, endlessly–by turning to one another, in such intensity, with such attention, such listening, that we will hear, and summon together, the creative power that has always been there: the power to create a new world–a world worthy of the struggle it will take to build it.

 

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Gustav Landauer: Art and Revolution

“In our times, an artist is defined as someone who has a vision: someone with visions and rhythms that form a separate inner world: someone who can manifest this world on the outside; someone who can create a new, an exemplary, their own world through imagination and creative force; someone whose ideas leave their inner being like Pallas Athena left Jupiter’s head; someone who then, like an Italian trader of plaster figures, packs the result in a basket and hawks it in the “the other world,” ordinary reality, where they sell the figures of their dreams and sacred desires to the goblins and caricatures of their artistic mind, all the while advertising, calculating, haggling, arguing, cheating. This is the contemporary artist’s mixture of detachment and participation.
But mine is another: I want to use reality to create; I want art to be the process of imaginative and communal social transformation, rather than the expression of individual yearning.”

Gustav Landauer, REVOLUTION and Other Writings: A Political Reader. Edited and translated by Gabriel Kuhn. PM Press.

I changed the masculine, personal pronouns.

I was probably 22 or 23 when I read the essay on Landauer, in Martin Buber’s Paths in Utopia; it would be hard to imagine how any, indirect meeting with any thinker, could have a more powerful, influence, than the ideas in that essay had for me—over the course of whole life. Three years later, I was living in a commune—where expenses were covered, each according our means. Though it would be 45 years before, my involvement with Occupy Philly, led to the next experiment in communal living, I never gave up my search for a means to realize my ideas on communal living, and this time—I’m sure there was something of Landaur’s ideas of art and revolution, what freed me, to return to what I had been doing when I read that essay: making art.
I only last week bought a copy of this book, and in reading it, began to discover how much—from such minimal acquaintance–the seeds Landauer had planted, have meant to me over the years. The perplexity I feel, and have expressed in posts on this blog and elsewhere, on how survive as an artist in this capitalist wilderness–and as a revolutionary–without losing one’s freedom to create, or submitting to slavery of the market–I didn’t learn from Landauer, but, as in the above quote, I find, this too, I share with him—if from another side, as an artist.

Revolution is an act of imagination

Revolution is action.

Revolution takes place in the present. Now, and now, and now, or never. There can be no waiting

for the “right conditions.”
Revolution is an ever present necessity.

Revolution is every act of the imagination, made real in every present moment.

Solidarity, Love, Imagination, RESISTANCE!

What is to be done?

Genocide and capitalism are inseparable, and inevitable.
If you pose a serious challenge to the order of the capitalist state–you will be marked for extermination.
 
I suspect that any STATE, any order dependent on coercion and violence, will degenerate into authoritarian, elitist rule. For a capitalist state–that will take the form of fascism.
As capitalism founds itself on a claim to representing an order of Nature, it follows–as sure as natural law–that all opposition will be declared, whether by eugenics, or other theoretical justification for the extreme inequality created by capitalism, as pathological–necessitating the extermination of those carrying the disease.
 
Genocide and capitalism are inseparable, and inevitable.
If you pose a serious challenge to the order of the capitalist state–you will be marked for extermination.
 
In a pseudo-democracy, it will come about it stages… but it will come about.
Understand, that if you are serious about challenging the capitalist state–they want you dead. And will find the means to satisfy their desire. There is nothing you can do to change that.
The question, as always… what is to be done?

Reality in Puerto Rico

A message sent from a cell phone.

Wow, this report directly from Puerto Rico will knock the socks off Stephen King or Mad Max. Shared via Dee Dee Myers:This is a FIRST-HAND REPORT – Pls read and respond. Share!
Reality in Puerto Rico now:
From a friend of Robert Roskind, sent as text from cellphone:

“Its 0400 as I write this, can’t sleep again. I keep thinking about what needs to be done. Sure, we have a plan, ration the water, the gasoline, the food. We’ve been very fortunate. We didn’t get flooded, thanks to 4,100 pounds of sand bags. Yes, I’m still sore from humping those heavy things around, securing the house. We have a generator, dry floors, water, canned food and gasoline. We’ll survive this crisis much better than most here on the island. Survive, as in: Live through it.
I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of stories on the news about the storm, but as a former news man, I’m sure that by now we’ve been replaced by Klowe Kardashian’s baby or the latest Hollywood liposuction. But here’s an update of what is really going on in Puerto Rico.
The situation here can only be described as dire. Although we have a generator, we have been using it sparingly as our 6-year-old needs to use her nebulizer at least twice a day, so we use that time to charge batteries, cell phones, keep the fridge cold and the ice frozen. Conserve the reserve, as they say. I don’t want to ramble or be verbose, so I’ll bullet point the issues facing us for clarity.
100% of the power is gone. I’m not saying the power is out, I’m saying that the powerlines are on the ground, snapped, shredded, and displayed at foot level from one end of the island to the other. Replacing the power grid will take months. Each line, pole, relay, and transfer station will need to be fixed or replaced. This island is dark.
95% of all cell service is out. Cars are lined up two lanes deep in places with people just trying to get a cell signal so they can reach their families on the mainland and other parts of the island. However, all communication with the western side is still silent.
90% of the water is at a trickle or less in San Juan, and completely out in most of the island. We are lucky. When the water flows, early in the morning and later at night, we can fill a gallon jug in about 12 minutes. However, the threat of Cholera and other diseases is very real. The water is unsafe.
The curfew has been extended again, until further notice. Very little on this island is moving. We live within a block of a major highway. Usually the night sound is flooded with the rush of traffic, but not now. Now all we hear is the low droning hum of generators. Last night I heard my neighbor’s generator sputter and die as it ran out of fuel. I haven’t heard it since.
Problems we face now:
Fuel. Gas lines are now about 2-3 miles long. People are waiting for hours just for $10 of gasoline. The Puma tank farm has several thousands of gallons of gasoline that supply the city of San Juan, but it’s still under 3 to 4 feet of water and will need to be inspected before any of the gas can be loaded on trucks. But the governor’s office has decreed that the gas will only be available for emergency vehicles, utilities, and government. So as the fuel runs out, generators will sputter and die like my neighbor’s. There is no ETA when the fuel will be available again.
Water. Potable water is running out everywhere. The Governor’s office ordered a price freeze on gasoline and oil, but didn’t include drinking water. In a corner store on Saturday I paid $32 for two 6-packs of Evian as I bought some chips and salsa for my wife and lollipops for my girls. Cash only of course, as there is no internet for the use of a debit or credit card.
Money. This is now a cash only society. People are lined up for hours waiting for an ATM or a bank teller to get money to live on. The cash is running out fast.
Distribution. As the Jones Act of 1920 decreed that all goods to Puerto Rico must come from the United States and carried by United States ships, and as Hurricane Irma took out the ports in Florida, and Hurricane Maria took out the ports in Puerto Rico, getting the necessary supplies in will be very challenging. As of this afternoon, the ports in Puerto Rico were not open and won’t be for at least 3 more days. Distribution centers and Oasis water points haven’t even been set up yet. As the gasoline shortage looms, even the care packages sent from the US can’t be delivered.
Hazards. Trees, road signs, power poles, and other debris still litter all the major though fares throughout the city. There are no street lights and no one directing traffic.
The Stink. This is something not reported by the news agencies. Drowned birds, mice, rats, and other poor creatures killed by the storm have washed into the drains. The rich stench of decomp can be smelled on nearly every corner. The rotting leaves and branches lodged in the gutters and drains have become pervasive.
Fire Ants. As the ground is saturated, the fire ants have sought dryer ground. I have personally had 9 different infestations of fire ants coming from light sockets, outlets, small cracks, door frames and windows as they seek new dry areas to live. I currently have 27 bites on my chest, fingers, arms, and feet from trying to eradicate them from our home.
Looters. The looting has begun. Yachts, boats, and other vessels have been the first target, but we fear that generators, cars and trucks will be next.
Guajataca. The dam may just wipe out the DXC office in Isabela.
I hope this lets you understand the gravity of the situation here in Puerto Rico. The storm devastated this island. As of now, we still have no power and don’t expect it to come back on until sometime after Christmas, and I’m not kidding. We are facing some extreme problems here. Even leaving is impossible as the airline prices have skyrocketed up to more than $3,000 for a one-way ticket to Miami.
So I will make it to the office as soon as I can. Please pray for us, and understand why I can’t make it to the office tomorrow as I need to ensure the safety and security of my family that I will leave behind. Hopefully I will make it to the office soon. I’ll keep you updated as much as possible.
[below is copied from an update the next day]
My cell signal keeps going in and out… mostly out… so I’m not sure when this will actually be sent.
As I said in my last update, disease is going to be a problem. Well… When clearing out some debris on Saturday afternoon, chunks of our neighbor’s roof, cardboard that flew in from who-knows-where, and for some reason lots of Styrofoam, there were pockets of mold already growing. As I didn’t have a mask for protection, since most of the Walgreens and other pharmacies are still closed, I ended up breathing in some of the spores. Now I have Strep Throat. I’ve been taking some antibiotics that were left over from the last time I was sick. Glad we still had them. I’ve had a fever off and on since Sunday night, so yesterday we tried to find a doctor. As most of the offices are closed due to damage, have no fuel for the generator or no generator at all, there are few options. We found an open hospital at 2200 last night. There were more people in the ER than I could count. Most people were still standing as all the seating had been taken hours ago. They were only taking people much worse off than me. When my wife asked how long it might take, the nurse just said, “Maybe sometime tomorrow.” My wife called another hospital and was lucky enough to have a nurse answer the phone. After a brief conversation, she asked, “How busy is your ER?” the nurse replied, “It’s like the end of the world here. We might not be the only hospital open, but it sure feels like it.” We went back home.
Most hospitals and clinics are still closed. Many of the hospital staff are being sent to other facilities to try and alleviate some of the burden, but lines are still incredibly long.
Even though I still had a fever this morning, to keep the vehicles and generator running, my wife and I were up at 0430 to get in line at the local gas station. $30 per person is all that is allowed. In order to get the gas we needed, we both had to go. We returned home about 0820 and I went back to bed. The gas station opened at 0600. We were 7th in line with gas cans. The line of cars stretched out for 4 blocks by the time made it to the pumps.
Bank lines are worse. They move faster than gas lines, of course, but there are many more people trying to get cash. No internet, no debit card. I’ll be standing in that line tomorrow morning about 0500, but I should be home by lunch.
FEMA has now confiscated all the diesel fuel on the island. They will begin doling it out to hospitals and emergency services later this week. This means that workplaces won’t be able to get any diesel for their generators. Most of the pay checks in San Juan will stop by the end of this week.
Problems at the ports are more serious. The governor is calling for anyone with a Commercial Driver’s License to help distribute the cargo coming off the ships. As cargo arrives, they can only move about 10% of it off the docks as they don’t have near enough drivers. Groceries are arriving, but not getting to the stores. Congress will not suspend the foreign ships restriction to the port either, so everything must first go through Florida to get here.
The airport has been inundated with people trying to leave the island. American Airlines, Southwest, United, and Jet Blue all have waiting lists of more than 2,000 people. Only 10 flights are going out per day. Hundreds of people are camped out in the airport departures area waiting for a ticket, some for more than 2 days now. There is no food or water, other than what they bring or someone can bring them. Most of the airport is without power, so there is no air conditioning either.
I have 9 two liter bottles of water left. Each has a date on the top of when to use it, to make sure we have enough water for the next week. We are running out of drinking water and there are no water points set up yet, so we’re trying to stretch it out as far as we can. The stores haven’t had water for a few days.
My girls don’t seem to mind any of this. At 4 and 6, they don’t really understand the gravity of the situation, they’re just happy there isn’t any school! But I can tell they are getting some cabin fever. We can’t take them to the park. Parks are littered with debris, branches and broken trees. Parks probably won’t be cleaned up until the rest of the city is back to normal.
I’ll have to cook the rest of the meat we had frozen tonight on the BBQ. Even with a generator, things thaw.
We’ve been conserving our fuel as reserves are running low and everything has finally thawed out. We still have lots of canned food, but until the trucks are running again, no one trusts the meats in the stores. There’s no telling how long something may have sat on a shelf during the storm only to be refrozen when the generators kicked in. But sadly, even as many stores are throwing out their rotting foods, many desperate people are rooting through it, looking for something to take home.
I’m exhausted and still a little feverish, so I’m headed back to bed.
Feel free to share this with whomever and however you like. We need all the help we can get.”
Angry

 

Thoughts on what we call “disabilities”

I’m at a loss how to communicate what this hearing aid means to me–how profoundly it has effected…changed, my life. It’s not the inability to hear–but the effect of losing a capacity one has come to depend on, and lacks the resources to replace. Hard of hearing is not a less severe form of deafness–it is different, as any truly deaf person would almost certainly agree.

I belong to the hearing world. At my age, I will never belong to the deaf world–which is a culture onto itself, for which, “Hearing” is not something that’s been lost, not a deficiency… it is simply, Other. If I were to learn ASL (something I would very much like to do–though learning a new language at my age is probably more of a challenge than I’m able to take on) –and even become proficient in it–I would still be a visitor in the culture. I would still belong to the Hearing world, the hearing culture.

When I say, I’m at a loss to communicate what this means to me–it’s in part, because of how profoundly this has impressed on me the degree to which our various capacities, define us–and what this means. How all of these, are less about our physical differences, or neurodiversity, than the social conditions imposed on us.

I do not have a ‘disability’ because I do not hear well, but because I do not hear well– I am, to the degree of that loss, excluded from full participation in the hearing world to which I belong–in ways more profound than I would have imagined… and more profoundly than I can adequately express.  Let me state this in different words: my disability does not consist of a hearing loss, but in how it excludes me from the social culture to which I belong–and there lies the more important meaning–for in different ways, this can be said of all the various ways humans diverge from the norm, from the privileged, power enforced mythologies of the Normal.

And in this, I can be thankful for this loss, in that it has given me insight into a range of human diversity, and the cruel tyranny of the Normal over all of us.. without which, I would not have understood with such clarity.

The neo-Nazi, eugenicists, who have risen to power–with representatives in the White House–are our ultimate enemies. Enemies of all of us. All of us. Because there is no such thing, as “Normal”… and there is no way to be rid of us… but extermination of the entire human species. Which is clearly, their unconscious goal.

One more on Artfinder

… and this, probly my last.

Reading posts in the forums on Artfinder, one mentioned a million dollars in sales, another, that there are 10,000 artists on Artfinder… ok, that comes to $10 an artist. Even if those figures were for a day–no one gonna live on ten dollars a day. And I think it was for a month, or a year.

AF is no better for artists, it seems, than any of the other rigged systems in capitalism.

There is no way to manipulate the capitalist machine to have it do other than what it’s built to do: make a very few people rich and powerful, and impoverishing and exploiting millions of others.

Artists need to get on board for revolution, and replace capitalism. It’s not just bad for artists, it’s going to destroy human life on this planet.

 

oops… should be $100 per artist. Which for a month or year, same point. oops…

Artfinder (cont.)

Artfinder is a lot of work. I got up this morning at 6–was at work by 7, and uploaded my 20th photo around 8 PM. Pretty much working on setting up those 13 hours.
Have to stay off the forum… insufferable wanna be capitalists, who have no interest in understanding anything about ‘markets’ and ‘name-branding’, and the role those things play in shaping, and destroying any hope of a humanly habitable world–it’s all what they get out of it.
I got banned the first time I tried to use Artfinder... for “life” … I guess I rose from the dead, or they haven’t connected my new email address with my first intrusion.
I can put up what I make, with no pressure to conform to anyone’s taste, and can list a price with an “accept offers” button.
This is not a market geared to investors, and that’s a good thing. It’s more, home decoration oriented. I ain’t posting any photos of my art over an expensive sofa with carefully arranged cushions.
I wish I lived in the Ox now… I could post ‘context’ photos in the wastelands!
I’m getting lots of ‘likes’ for my art. And 4 got put in ‘carts.’ If I sell one or two a month, I’ll be happy. I’d like to post a few of my more outrageous political pieces–with outrageous prices. Just so peeps paging through the affordable stuff which I do want to sell, would see them.
Better than gathering dust in the basement…. though… they still are. Gathering dust. But not unseen.

Marxism in the Age of Robotics

Welcome to Mars>

Never before has so much been possible. Never before have the consequences of applying old ideas to new conditions been so dire. The outcome of class struggle in our day and tomorrow will determine our collective fate – if we are to have one at all.

Without revolutionary theory there can be no revolution. Without discussion there can be no theory. Without platforms there can be no discussion.

MARS aims to be a platform for study and discussion of revolutionary theory for our time. We are entering into the unfamiliar, the undiscovered country. We need a place to analyze and understand the astonishing economic and political changes taking place.

Read more at the LINK

The Coming Human Extinction

I seriously ask myself, why do I bother to make art when there will be no humans on this planet in another generation?

The Uninhabitable Earth

Famine, economic collapse, a sun that cooks us: What climate change could wreak — sooner than you think.

By
New York Magazine

What is an Anarchist?

images.jpg

I keep reading comments about protests, where peeps blame everything they don’t like, everything they think excessive, violent… on ‘anarchists.’

When they know nothing about actual anarchists, but what the enemies of actual anarchists have always said about them.

There is a rich history of a very diverse stream of anarchist ideologies.

It can be complicated. For me, it’s complicated only in the doing… which is always actions and decisions made with others.

No gods, no leaders… no representatives” … Nehil de nobis sin nobis… nothing about US… without us. We are capable of taking care of ourselves, and one another, without hierarchy, without institutionally mandated leaders.
I am an anarchist.
That is my manifesto. Read it well, read it with care, turn it and turn it, cause everything is in it.

As for how we get there?

Solidarity, Love, Imagination, RESISTANCE!