reasons to quit

twenty first century existential dread over eroding identity in globalized capitalism


Trevor Paglen - They Watch the Moon (2010)

"This photograph depicts a classified ‘listening station’ deep in the forests of West Virginia.

The station is located at the center of the National Radio Quiet Zone, a region of approximately 34,000 square kilometers in West Virginia and parts of Maryland.

Within the Quiet Zone, radio transmissions are severely restricted: omnidirectional and high-powered transmissions (such as wireless internet devices and FM radio stations) are not permitted.

The listening station, which forms part of the global ECHELON system, was designed in part to take advantage of a phenomenon called moonbounce.

Moonbounce involves capturing communications and telemetry signals from around the world as they escape into space, hit the moon, and are reflected back towards Earth.

The photograph is a long exposure under the full moon light.”


Kevin Kunstadt

Franck Bohbot - Chinatown (2014)


The moon sets over La Silla Observatory

Credit: ESO/B. Tafreshi


there is a very intimate connection between Canada and the US military-industrial complex that so many researchers and members of the public fail to publicize and acknowledge.

General Dynamics, a Canadian weapons company, for example, manufactures some of the drone technologies that Americans use presently to attack civilians in Yemen, Pakistan, Somalia etc. they just won a $10 billion contact with the US military to supply arms being used in  military bases in Saudi Arabia and several South American countries.

there’s a very dangerous line being crossed when canadians are taught in public schools the notion of Canada as a “peace-keeping” nation-state, as if rarely having previously engaged directly in a conventional war mission immunes this damned country from the imperialism-driven empire ambitions of its southern brother the US.

this is a dangerous, imperialist country, with a dangerous imperialist government that no one in either global media or in IR research ever truly gives enough attention to. this country supplies the weaponry—the guns and bombs, so to say—to those american war criminals and cleverly enough, consequently saves face and evades the anti-americanism.


Renato Stockler

A “terrao” is an oasis in the urban landscape. The reddish tone of a soccer field turns into a stage for the resistance of popular soccer. These fields are increasingly rare to see because of property speculation and land occupation.

Some of them have their own football clubs, while others are publics spots. Some of them are mainly dirt, while others are of sand, rests of weathered grass. But they are a breath for the hard daily life of those who lives in the outskirts of Sao Paulo. These fields show the urgency for public and communal places to practice sports, a portrait of those who fights for leisure in a city as Sao Paulo. Colored and powerful in face of the greyish scenario, these fields are a solid basis of soccer’s spirit in Brasil.
It’s not hard to find friends, relatives, adults and children cheering together for their local teams. Even through social and political difficulties, a “terrao” shows us the real soccer, far away from a society mediated by powerful media groups. The rawness of a “terrao”can’t be fitted as a media spectacle.



arundhati roy evoking me / me in arundhati roy form

My husband, photographer Michael Nye, once photographed in a West Bank Palestinian refugee camp for days, and was followed around by a little girl who wanted him to photograph her. Finally, he did — and she held up a stone with a poem etched into it. (This picture appears on the cover of my collection of poems, 19 Varieties of Gazelle — Poems of the Middle East). Through a translator, Michael understood that the poem was ‘her poem’ — that’s what she called it. We urged my dad to translate the verse, which sounded vaguely familiar, but without checking roundly enough, we quoted the translation on the book flap and said she had written the verse. Quickly, angry scholars wrote to me pointing out that the verse was from a famous Darwish poem. I felt terrible.

I was meeting him for the first and last time the next week. Handing over the copy of the book sheepishly, I said: ‘Please forgive our mistake. If this book ever gets reprinted, I promise we will give the proper credit for the verse.’ He stared closely at the picture. Tears ran down his cheeks. ‘Don’t correct it,’ he said. ‘It is the goal of my life to write poems that are claimed by children.’

Naomi Shihab Nye, from her essay “Remembering Mahmoud Darwish” 

(via commovente)



With hand-drawn typography influenced by a series of 1960’s John O’Hara novels, the Vintage design team has conjured up this playful new series.

By collecting all nine you can reveal the classic poster on the reverse. (see the magic happen on our Facebook page!)

The poster was supplied by the Science and Society Picture Library. It dates from 1910 and was a stock magic poster used by smaller acts where performance names could simply be inserted into a strip at the top of the image, which would explain why so many different types of magic acts are represented.

To be published October 2014 by Vintage.


I’ll eat a chemtrail I don’t give a fuck

So long as I confine my activities to social service and the blind, they compliment me extravagantly, calling me ‘arch priestess of the sightless,’ ‘wonder woman,’ and a ‘modern miracle.’ But when it comes to a discussion of poverty, and I maintain that it is the result of wrong economics—that the industrial system under which we live is at the root of much of the physical deafness and blindness in the world—that is a different matter! It is laudable to give aid to the handicapped. Superficial charities make smooth the way of the prosperous; but to advocate that all human beings should have leisure and comfort, the decencies and refinements of life, is a Utopian dream, and one who seriously contemplates its realization indeed must be deaf, dumb, and blind.
—Helen Keller (letter to Senator Robert La Follette, 1924)

Gentrifiers focus on aesthetics, not people. Because people, to them, are aesthetics.

Proponents of gentrification will vouch for its benevolence by noting it “cleaned up the neighbourhood”. This is often code for a literal white-washing. The problems that existed in the neighbourhood - poverty, lack of opportunity, struggling populations denied city services - did not go away. They were simply priced out to a new location.

That new location is often an impoverished suburb, which lacks the glamour to make it the object of future renewal efforts. There is no history to attract preservationists because there is nothing in poor suburbs viewed as worth preserving, including the futures of the people forced to live in them. This is blight without beauty, ruin without romance: payday loan stores, dollar stores, unassuming homes and unpaid bills. In the suburbs, poverty looks banal and is overlooked.

In cities, gentrifiers have the political clout - and accompanying racial privilege - to reallocate resources and repair infrastructure. The neighbourhood is “cleaned up” through the removal of its residents. Gentrifiers can then bask in “urban life” - the storied history, the selective nostalgia, the carefully sprinkled grit - while avoiding responsibility to those they displaced.

—Sarah Kendzior - The peril of hipster economics (x)
When you self-mythologise it’s like saying you’re prepared to fuck life and take it with you. You can get cut and you can get miserable and you can feel like you’re driving that long dark road and you can survive on carrots and soup and feel like you’re eating your own soul and you’ll never be happy and you can only sit there with the kaleidoscope looking out on the past as if it’s the only thing you’ll love and feel like you will never love again and know that the city you stalk doesn’t look the same as then and you can feel like you are crushed by your own desire like a hammer smashing through a skull but there’s no time at which you can say to yourself: I won’t be able to make sense of this. The want in you craves the ability to make sense of the road and how you loved and why you loved and who you loved and nothing ever will be the same again but you know: fuck everything and fuck the way stories are written. This is for me and for anyone who ever felt lost in their own myth: we make our own, and it’s enough. It’s enough to make it. We make it. We make our own.
—Cara Ellison writes an essay on Self-mythologisation.
You don’t ask people with knives in their stomachs what would make them happy; happiness is no longer the point. It’s all about survival; it’s all about whether you pull the knife out and bleed to death or keep it in…
—Nick Hornby, How to Be Good  (via mirroir)