Moogfest is the synthesis of music, art and technology. Catch our workshops & reading events alongside Black Quantum Futurism collective as part of this year’s ‘Future Thought’ programming at MOOGFEST in Durham. It’s $$$ tho so don’t stress – we do our thing regularly around the city of Philadelphia.

May 18—21 Durham, NC

Catch our workshops & reading events alongside Black Quantum Futurism collective as part of this year’s ‘Future Thought’ programming at MOOGFEST in Durham. It’s $$$ tho so don’t stress – we do our thing regularly around the city of Philadelphia.

Moogfest is the synthesis of music, art and technology.

Since 2004, Moogfest has brought together artists, futurist thinkers, inventors, entrepreneurs, designers, engineers, scientists, and musicians.

By day, Moogfest is a platform for conversation and experimentation. This mind-expanding conference attracts creative and technology enthusiasts for three days of participatory programming in Durham, North Carolina. By night, Moogfest presents cutting-edge music in venues throughout the city. Performing artists include early pioneers in electronic music, alongside pop and avant garde experimentalists of today.

Moogfest is a tribute to Dr. Robert Moog and the profound influence his inventions have had on how we hear the world. Over the last sixty years, Bob Moog and Moog Music have pioneered the analog synthesizer and other technology tools for artists. This exchange between engineer and musician is celebrated with a unique festival format where the creative process is understood as a collaboration among many people, across time and space, in commerce and culture.

2 DAYS OF SHOWS/READINGS/ZINES DISTRO

ROCKERS+ SLASH EM UP PRESENTS
race+ punk + identity in the new age

2 DAYS OF SHOWS/READINGS/ZINES DISTRO

ROCKERS! DAY ONE
FRIDAY APRIL 18th

Featuring::::::::::

THE BREATHING LIGHT (CHI)
AYE NAKO (NYC)
METROPOLARITY
2 MORE SPECIAL GUEST TBA

DJ MMGZ

$5

Hosted by Adrian Adonis

First Rockers of 2014
Don’t miss this.

The Time Travel Convention is an exhibition that explores time travel as a practical activity – something that does not necessarily require a machine, an advanced degree, or any other privileges. Using afrofuturism and the speculative as lenses, the exhibition will feature time travel devices and objects from creators who use tools such as memory, dreams, imagination, manipulation of language and perception, light, and music to craft their temporal devices.

The Time Travel Convention is an exhibition that explores time travel as a practical activity – something that does not necessarily require a machine, an advanced degree, or any other privileges. Using afrofuturism and the speculative as lenses, the exhibition will feature time travel devices and objects from creators who use tools such as memory, dreams, imagination, manipulation of language and perception, light, and music to craft their temporal devices.

Pt. 1 will prepare travelers for the time machine activation event with
– Quantum Time Capsule Workshop
– Music & Memory Stations
– Time Machine Installation Building
– Dream Journal Project
– Other workshops and interactive activities with contributing artists

FREE w/ one small object or artifact to place into the time capsule
(Donations accepted for workshop materials)

Time Machines and Devices from:
MMGz — PsychoAcoustics & Memory
Black Shesus — The Pyramid of Shesus
R.Phillips — Recurrence Plot (RP)
Kameelah Janan Rasheed — No Instructions of Assembly, Activation II
Alisha Wormsley — black people in the future
Mourl Ferryman — The Shadow and the Substance 2014
Melissa Moore — An Infinitygram: Diasporan Object Design For A New Future

Time Travel Convention | Pt. 2 – Activation will take place at Yell Gallery on April 5, 2014 from 6 to 9pm. This opening reception for the exhibition will also be the book release for AfroFuturist Affair Creator Rasheedah Phillips’ experimental fiction novel, Recurrence Plot (and Other Time Travel Tales). See invite to Pt. 2 here https://www.facebook.com/events/1431545053750221/?previousaction=join&source=1

afrofuturistaffair@gmail.com for questions

Our most precious recurring event, Laser Life, occurred this past Friday, JAN 31 204. We livestreamed the event from our local anarchist community meeting space via Google Hangouts (¬_¬) and the result is below for your viewing pleaaasure.

OPENING W/ALEX SMITH: 3:08

MAGGIE EIGHTEEN: 4:58
RAS MASHRAMANI: 22:45
SHANE JENKINS: 44:44
MARISSA JOHNSON-VALENZUELA 52:40

ALEX ASKS US TO CONTEMPLATE “WHY SCI-FI” & ITS OVERTHROW?: 1:05:00

SUZY SUBWAYS: 1:06:07
R.PHILLIPS: 1:18:56
ALEX SMITH: 1:34:15

THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO CAME THRU & COMES AFTER/BEFORE/NOW

IF YOU WANT TO READ YOUR QUEER INSURRECTIONIST SCI-FI AT THE UPCOMING APRIL LASER LIFE, CONTACT ALEX SMITH AT THEYAREBIRDS(@)GMAIL(.)COM

WE’RE FROM THE CITY, WE LIVE ON THE EAST COAST.
WE RECEIVE AN ELECTRONIC REQUEST FOR DISPATCH TO THE MIDWEST
THE FARGO MOORHEAD ZINE FEST?
HAVE ANY OF Y’ALL EVER BEEN TO FARGO BEFORE?
FARGO, NORTH DAKOTA?

take the picture already

Yes, Fargo, North Dakota. To those of us who grew up in those big coastal cities (Philly and LA in our case), Fargo opens up as a charming city—the largest city—in North Dakota, right across the street (or creek or train tracks) from Moorhead, Minnesota and the buffalo plains of the midwest. Downtown Fargo was full of cute cafes, independent boutiques, hip eateries, hip churches, a comic book store, a record shop, a tattoo parlor, an awesome public library, and a strong bicycle culture to boot. We were surprised, when originally Ras was worried about being “a black” in the midwest and I was worried about having to deal with the class rage of interacting with happy-go-lucky privileged white people at every turn. It did indeed seem like an attractive place where a nice sense of chummy and shallow “diversity” can flaunt itself proudly without ever having to be accountable to people who aren’t white, middle class, straight, or men.

main street

But then there’s Joyce Hatton and the Fargo Moorhead Zine Fest (FMZF).

the zine fest in the High Plains Reader!

FMZF flier at the art supply store

gettin caffineaquainted

After I made my first (intentional) zine well, I thought ‘well, what now? Zines are for white punks, so there’s no community for me to share this with.’ And then I found POCZP [the People of Color Zine Project]! I totally fell in love with the online community, and thought ‘wouldn’t it be great if I could have this kind of safe, supportive, openminded community in my physical space, too?’

I decided a zine fest was the way to go, so I started making that happen. I had no idea how to do it, but I just started taking steps that seemed to make sense. My idea of zines being for white people didn’t just happen, it grew out of misinformation about zines, and zine fests that weren’t diverse, so I thought really hard about what I wanted for FMZF.

The goal was that FMZF be a diverse event, meaning: people of many different races, ethnicities, cultures, religions, genders, sexuality, and classes have knowledge of the event, feel comfortable attending FMZF, and have had an opportunity to make a zine prior to and/or during the event so that each person feels zines are accessible to them and therefore feel included.
My goals for working with POCZP are to:

1) to build community in Fargo-Moorhead, share POC zines, and create safe spaces for POC and allies to have an honest, open sharing of ideas and experiences.

2) find ways effectively and easily share the POCZP’s mission and zine making with physically, emotionally, or ideologically isolated POC in rural areas and small towns in the Midwest.

So the work of FMZF fits in perfectly with that! And the reason those are my goals is because that’s what I want in my own life, and wished that I’d had when I was younger. I think that helps me to be effective and passionate because I’m truly working to fulfill needs lacking in my own life. All workshops and activities have been free and open to children because I’m also very passionate about using zines to validate and empower children.

The idea of me having a POC-led event talking about ways we can empower ourselves and each other was terrifying to me at first, due to a mix of safety concerns, internalized racism, and who knows what else. But with the help of Daniela Capistrano, the founder of the POC Zine Project, I found the courage to do it! And many thanks to Metropolarity! It was awesome getting to know Eighteen and Ras. They really helped make FMZF wonderful!

time for the zine fest!!

Fliers were all over the Fargo-Moorhead area, there was a write-up in the local alt weekly, the High Plains Reader, and there had been a number of small workshops leading up to the fest itself. Come Saturday, we found ourselves setting up in the basement of a Unitarian church, wondering who and what was to come. Aside from the tablers, there were to be performances and workshops by Spring Ma, Unedited Media, Quese IMC, and a screening of REZ by director Dominique DeLeon followed by a Q&A. That plus our own workshop on the particular way our humble science fiction collective has manifested movement building through speculative imagination. Joyce had gone to great lengths to bring together a lot of excellent crews under one roof…

It was a humble space with modest attendance, and perhaps you cannot tell from these words and images, but a deep and important well of life-sustaining exchange was discovered that day. Trust.

young Spring plays her first set of guzheng tunes

Young Spring Ma brought her dad and her guzheng and lent a mindful ambiance to the day, performing three sets in her most excellent princess attire.

anti-oppression info

rad librarian Becca

Rad librarian Becca with her own zines, in part with the MSUM Women’s Center.

queer american literature

The money shot from Becca’s How I Learned About My Visual Impairment

burrow and the "don't diss my ability" collab zine

Burrow and the Don’t Dis My Ability collaboration zine she put together, which came in a large print format as well.

"don't diss my ability" zine in large format

Unedited Media

Unedited Media spoke about their formation as a collective during Occupy Wall Street and their introduction to media documentation and representation. They shared how they ended up in the midwest, documenting resistance events (against struggles primarily affecting native communities which the rest of the country would otherwise think was ancient history), and how they make media respecting the people involved in a given struggle, not simply just vying for the most shockworthy or attractive shot.

what they do

Sept 2nd, 2013 Blockade of Illegal Activity in White Clay. from Uneditedmedia on Vimeo.

Idle No More Keystone XL tar sands pipeline blockade

WE WON'T BE SILENT THEY WON'T DEFINE US

The feminist librarian crew of the Women’s Center of Minnesota State University Moorhead repped with a zine library and open, intersectional mindsets. We heard quite a few of their anecdotes that made clear “feminist” is still a very dirty word out that way. Their binders full of zines were really worth going through…

from que(e)ry issue 1

HO’ING AROUND spread out of Womanimalistic #1

and this highly #relevant gem from the 90s

GQ Joyce

Joyce with her excellent zines on overcoming cancer, seeking sobriety, safety, strength, dignity, and community. And the illustrations! Did you know? She’s the midwest coordinator for the POC Zine Project. 😀

cause it's just great

Spring Ma’s formidable cuteness displayed itself on all levels

things for the kids

The fest was a kid/family friendly event, so we brought a few things just for them and covered up any cuss words they don’t need to be knowing just yet.

picking through the youth appropriate buttons

Metropolarity table spread

We brought along work from Suzy Subways, Annie Mok, Patrokolos, and other neighbors that had print materials to send along.

all that's left & arkdust zines

You can get our zines here and here, by the way. 🙂

what do we think of when we hear sci-fi

Starting the workshop with ‘what do we think of when we hear the word sci-fi?’

Quese IMC & Joyce during the workshop

Quese IMC and Joyce discussing intentions for the Quantum Time Capsule mini workshop we held (which we personally experienced firsthand at the Rockers BBQ thanks to our boo, the AfroFuturist Affair).

collecting quantum time capsule intentions

interactions

fargo-moorhead-zine-fest-weekend-day-two-115

Quese IMC makes the circle

Quese IMC came and made a circle and one could say that he spoke of the undeniable history of violence against native people, against peoples, and cycles of violence, cycles of learning. One could also say that he came to be heard and came to hear us, and in the circle there was humility, and in humility, paths to healing. I would later write that he gave us some medicine.

Marcus “Quese IMC” Frejo is an award winning indigenous hiphop artist. His music has been in film and animation, both major and independent. He has performed with the likes of Run DMC, Ludacris, Knarles Barkley, Atmosphere, The Pharcyde, Kumbia Kings, DJ Grandmasterflash, Petey Pablo, Clipse, Poor Righteous Teachers, Mos Def and Tinariwen, just to name a few. Quese IMC is one of the founding members of the world-famous group, Culture Shock Camp. He truly loves the artform of hip-hop expression and uses this instrument to bring forth awareness, consciousness and change within people and communities, not by force but by invitation. This invite consists of building bridges with the people and aligning ones ideas and spirit so that true spiritual change can be moved about through the power of word, music, art and connection.

Quese IMC was born in Oklahoma and is from the Wolf band of Pawnee and Bear clan of Seminole Indigenous People. He also has roots from Silao, Guanajuato. Quese IMC has been writing, performing hiphop since the age of 7. He continues to work with and within indigenous communities across the country, as well as inner-city youth programs, high schools, universities, youth conferences, multi-cultural impact building and cultural exchanges. Quese IMC also works with programs geared towards suicide prevention on and off reservation communities.

REZ screening by Dominique DeLeon

The zine fest officially ended at 5pm and shifted to a screening of Dominique DeLeon’s short film and graduate thesis at NYU, REZ, “a film meant to honor a late friend but also shed some light on the plight of the 7th generation.” [more]

Daniel Nightbird is an Ojibwe teen living on the Leech Lake reservation who’s taking care of his young sister alone. Down to his last dollar, when he’s suddenly evicted it sets in motion a desperate search for a safe place on the Rez, which is harder to come by than even he imagined.

Rez Teaser Trailer from Special Boy Films on Vimeo.

Apparently, his board of reviewers did not quite believe that native peoples living on a reservation might dress in certain attires, act in certain ways, or experience certain struggles, and questioned the legitimacy of the narrative as depicted in the film. Upon sharing this anecdote with the lot of us, we all scoffed and shook our heads. Is it really so difficult to believe that struggle out of oppression needs to look a certain way for it to be real? You could say this is exactly why events like FMZF need to take place.

REZ director Dominique DeLeon speaking

on what kind of films he wants to be in in the future

The screening closed with a Q&A with DeLeon, as well as REZ’s lead actor, Al Seaboy. When I asked what kinds of films he wants to be in going forward, he said he wanted to be in works about real people, real stories, like REZ.

packing up

And in the quiet of the early evening, we packed up, said our farewells, and started to make our post-fest dinner plans.

goodbye FMZF 2013!

end to a weekend group photo

Being in Fargo and meeting with the people at the zine fest gave me a lot of much-needed perspective. Being raised in a mixed, blue collar family and living in a city like Philly, it’s always been easy for me personally to run my mouth against people who come from financial privilege, white middle Amerikkka, the liberal white middle class, oblivious whiteness, period. So it was humbling to interact with a white community that is surrounded by nothing but white supremacist culture & unquestioned colonialist narratives, yet are somehow able to see that there is a problem with it (by listening to the people saying THERE IS A PROBLEM!) and working to change their attitudes, perspectives, and power structures for oppressed people out that way. Respect. This is to say nothing of the awe and uplifting, sustaining feelings I had to be around Joyce and the fruits of her labor in creating something out of nothing — an intersection point for people of color, a place for sharing, listening, visibility, and empowerment.

(Also, tumblr & internet networks & empowerment through media is strong at work. People make fun of tumblr activism but I think they forget a time before internet networks were an easily accessible reality.)

Later I wrote in my journal, “Quese said that his jewelry wasn’t his. He just carried it with him, and it became a part of him over time. And later it would go on to be a part of someone else. Exchange of information. New contexts. New meanings. New stories. New worlds. Thanks, Fargo. Thanks, Joyce.”

<3 eighteen


If you’re in the Fargo-Moorhead area and want to get hooked up with a solid crew, why not introduce yourself to the FMZF Auxiliary Programs squad?

See the entire photoset from our trip to Fargo here.

THE FRIDAY EVENING THE WOMB THE LASER LIFE ASSEMBLY AT THE ANARCHIST ORGANIZING SPACE IN WEST PHILADELPHIA
WE’RE SORRY YOU MISSED IT
HERE IS THE RECAP IN OUR SHORT BLIPS AND CLIPS
WE EVEN HAD CHURCH SPACE ORGAN THANKS TO SHANE JENKINS


RAS MASHRAMANI // NIGHT SPACE [coming soon]

[INSERT NON-EXISTENT FOOTAGE OF MAGGIE EIGHTEEN READING HERE]


R. PHILLIPS // THE AFROFUTURIST AFFAIR


KATIE ZALL // AND AREN’T YOU LUCKY HER WHOLE STORY IS ONLINE 4FREE RIGHT HERE


CAMAE DEFSTAR // MOOR MOTHER GODDESS


ALEX SMITH // HERALD ACTUATOR

When [R. Phillips] was done reading at LASER LIFE last night, I understood something so wholly, and completely, so finally, that can never not be true. That, beyond the colloquial euphemism of what Laser Life, sci-fi, and the speculative mean to me, that to say that one is “living sci-fi”, is for me inevitably and completely true. Her story and it’s heart rending, “gone to glory” climax made me realize that it is not only possible to live science fiction, but for me, it’s mandatory. It’s all there is, it’s all I know. Thanks, Rasheedah, for validating, confirming, making me believe.


If you are sad you missed this momentous and life-affirming gathering, it might behoove you to stay abreast of our events via our Facebook page.

We’re very busy this October and November. . .

The following was performed at the 3rd annual ROCKERS BBQ weekend. Consider it a part of our episode, the SPACE INVADERS :: Gentrification x Community issue of our Journal of Speculative Vision & Critical Liberation Technologies. Video by Kaos Blac. Feature image by House of Hayes.

So, I opened a customer’s check book, and inside, there was a pamphlet about god. My boyfriend had visited me at work, kissed me on the cheek and dashed off to an adventure on his own. It made my day. I think the three-top sitting at D4 saw this. After I dropped the food at their table, they asked me to pray with them. I declined. Fortunately, as the note they’d written on their check said, “God cares. Even for sinners such as you” . In a saner, more just universe (one with leprechauns in the Senate, one with were-dragon ballerinas as Septa train operators, one with talking lucky squirrels that spin acid jazz and jungle dub plates at barmitzphas), I would bring them back their change mixed in with shredded pieces of the Jesus pamphlet. I’d leave them a note as well. This is what it would say:

“The grid shapes us, molds us, makes us uniformly square. The binary assault on our senses has dulled us. We are trapped, thinking that our sexuality stems from some kind of intrinsic pre-determined genetic code, or that it can even be unlearned. We are all existing on levels of love, on a cosmic string that stretches across and over galaxies like electrical wires. When I lay down and kiss my boyfriend at night, I’m crossing the streams of countless eons of information, of pre-cybernetic memory, the ancient kind of memory that tells me that “I exist”. So, no matter what you write *now* on this little receipt, I’m giving you, in return, a sort of inter-dimensional banjee girl effect. I am kissing your son and husband passionately, deeply on the mouth, even now, just by writing this. I do appreciate your prayers, because I recognize that it is essential to humanity to create stories and dreams that explain the science of the world, that reassures us of our place, even as granular as it is, within the multiverse, but I also recognize that just as essential is our notion to be connected in grander ways to each other, that our holes are there for traversal and transmission and communication, and that we are portals, always and forever. So, yes, I am eternally in need of God, but only so much that god is creation and sex and fervor and life.“

(And yes, I could write all of this in-between serving customers and waiting on my other tables; sure, i’m *that* good. Plus, I keep a cache of “verbal beat down” tucked into my brain for just such occasions so it was all a matter of channeling, really)

Even in this reality, where ever “this reality” currently is, where we danced on top of DHL trucks at bonfires. Where we filled our baskets with the cosmic dawn, with the tools of the culling, marched over the horizon and struck a blow at the sun. Even here we are flying things, vast and unicorn, radiating in free effervescent thought chroma, bursts of the burgeoning universe lilting over radiant nebula, cloud and ash. We are baristas and shamans at the desks of the apparitions, the waitstaff in white gloves on the yachts of freedom ghosts with our time cards stamped until eternity.

My hands are gold and steel, wrapped up time machines. I push the button and black goo pours out in delicious crema. I stare at it as it coalesces into a filthy golden ring, a soul sapping halo of procured anti-vitamins, a sun-sucking ember extracted from a plant three thousand miles, one hundred leather straps on the back, an ocean of dead black bodies buried at sea, away. And then I pour it into the cup.

“Hello?” The pregnant white woman is holding her purse, her lips curled up in a half crescent of desire and thirst. She sees my black skin first, ignores the beading droplets of sweat coagulating on my brow. I think of the nights where we set fire to a rib shack, where we etched “death to gentrifiers” on the windows of the newest Wendy’s on Lancaster avenue, where we pricked our ankles on barbed wire and left bloody DNA tattoos on the walls of art museums. I think of the night sky opening up, afterglow sparking, ebullient rush of the wind, the party doors swinging wide and androgynous avatars announcing to the world, this is the land of the freaks and warriors and we’re taking things back, we’re busting out, we’re clearing this world, swollen on the fruit, still starved for the meat.

I wrote so many things down in those days, on the back of Spider-Man comic books, on napkins and napkin holders, on pieces of trash stuck and corroding on the side of the curb. I wrote of taking the artifacts out of the glass cases and putting them back into the ground- the sacred ground. I wrote of the ground.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” I say, as I stir the pure brown down into the creamy liquid mass of the white white milk. Ah, an easy metaphor, I think, a clear and beautiful piece of hyperbole, consisting of the life blood of yuppiedom. I can set this thing on the counter, watch its pale beige swirl inundate the glass, cascade over the clear, nameless, not-there ice cubes, as it turns into the perfect mix of the people of the planet, of the people of Philadelphia, this great city of love, of understanding.

But this isn’t an 11th grade essay or a melting pot narrative. I’m standing behind a counter with a uniform on, the blackest beacon in a white universe, easily Google-able, so simple it is to Yelp my non- name: the star artist in this cappuccino and iced americano crazed continuum is ______. You can type my form into the entry for the café, it’s simple, and they will know who you are talking about. It’s not like we’re standing in a bodega in South Philadelphia or a five and dime in Kensington or a donut shop under the L at Girard. We’re here where the encroaching horizon of academia clashes with the shrinking border of hunger and death pangs. It’s real simple: I’m the black guy that works there.

“Are you ready for me?” she asks, as I stand staring her into her crisp blue eyes. She held her smart phone, tethered to her hand like a cyborg arm connected with nano machines. I could not tell where she ended and the iPhone began.

She is not ready to order. She is just there.

And so they all list into being, like a star-studded wikipage unraveling, falling into life and birthed in a line. They all want something from me, every inch of my black body, all that I can muster for them. They want everything except my story. A cop. A minister. A priest. A man in a Duke Lacrosse t shirt. An elderly woman with a tripod cane. A seeing eye dog. A boy in ripped jeans with a handlebar mustache. Another cop. A man with a souvenir paint brush from Milan. A woman wearing a dress made of kente cloth. A punk rocker.

I sat on the stoop outside of the café, watching children play in a puddle, the water rising and falling with their every excited splash. A police car came tearing through the intersection, slowed down when it passed the kids, rolled it’s window down. A white man in the back seat peered out plaintively, shook his head at the children then mouthed something to the cop driving and the squad car sped on.

When I’m emptying the trash, I am still a super-hero flying through the air, talking to dwarf stars and dreaming in quasars. When I’m picking up used napkins off of tables, I’m still a griot mystic, weaving light constructs from tiny threads of reality. When I’m making your coffee…

I saw the pregnant white woman on the 34 trolley. She got on at 36th street. I could feel the air sucked out of of the car from the vacuum created by the many men and women rising to give up their seat. I felt the searing heat of x-ray eyes, as the air got thinner, hotter, at 40th street station, where a black woman with three kids, weighed down with grocery bags got on. The look of disdain from the same passengers was hot enough to bake vampire flesh. I kept reading my comic book, stitched into my aisle seat.

When we reached 48th street, the sea of color had dispersed. The swirling yellow and porcelain white, the garish garments and cargo pants and Birkenstocks had disappeared. The announcer stopped announcing the street numbers. There was just us: monolithic, vast, black, and unicorn.

laser life is a queer sci-fi reading series. this april 26th, 2013.

THE ACTUATOR, THE NEXUS. ALEX SMITH’S LASER LIFE QUEER SCI-FI READING SERIES MAKES ITS SPRING RETURN.

featuring:

special guest: POLYMER MONOCHROME, aka Paul Walker of SGNLS in his sci-fi reading debut!! We are ecstatic to hear this new/old voice.

Alex Smith/ARKDUST:
“Close your eyes little starry Captain, little man of cosmos, you’re almost there, becoming. A lotus flower will appear at the crest of your every step, through cracks in the dust and piss strewn sidewalks and in the mire of the still damp tarmac leading to the place you call home. Light this stick, it’s a candle, and yes, though it’s just a figment or a symbol of your dreams, it’s something you can hold on to, it’s something you can use to see in the dark. Can you see it? Behind the flame? On another plane, a figure, spiraling coming closer to and standing grand in space and lacking light? Is it sentient? Is it you?”

Maggie Eighteen/ALL THAT’S LEFT
“Not soon after they became immersed in the virtual place between both their connections, the in-between place where they released tension, the wi-fuck, they called it. Where his female-bodied Captain had parts from a male one, and he, so used to being the aggressive masculine archetype in person, was on his hands and knees, willingly at the mercy of whatever humiliation or obedient bark she could dish out. She would work him mercilessly. The world was scary, and tonight he wanted to cry. ”

Shane Jenkins/RAZED BY WOLVES
“And then the moon was blotted out. Hundreds of crows, maybe thousands, swirled up over the forest, cawing and shrieking. The noise was deafening, the sky a whirr of angry feathers. All at once, they descended upon Kevin. He struggled, but the griffin’s wings kept him from moving. The crows picked away at Kevin bit by bit, and flew away with small parts of him. A bit of skin here, an eyeball there, a piece of tongue. In three minutes, there was no trace of Kevin, as they even flew away with his bones.”

Ras Mashramani/THE NIGHT SPACE
“”Honey, it would be good for you,” her mother squeezes her shoulder–the first time in months, “It would help us all out. Then you can get back to being you, a good girl.”
While Melinda throws all of her hoodies and sweats into a duffel bag, she wonders what that makes her now, after she was taken. She checks her Facebook one last time, and browses YouTube. Absentmindedly, she googles her name. She googles Kensington 6. She googles abductions and inseminations. In one youtube video, there is a girl from the Midwest bragging about her insemination, spitting at the webcam. Melinda thinks, then, that it’s time to go to bed.”

R. Phillips/AFRO-FUTURIST AFFAIR
By day, R. Phillips is a public interest attorney at a nonprofit legal organization, assisting low-income members of the community. Against the backdrop of night, Phillips explores the fine line between fiction and reality, xperiments with time order, reverses cause & effect, turns black holes inside out to create worlds, and rearranges the cosmos to foster favorable astrological conditions for her alternate selves. She is the mother to her teen, Iyonna, and the creator of The AfroFuturist Affair, a community for Philadelphia Afrofuturists. She plans to release an experimental novel called Recurrence Plot in late 2012/early 2013, should we survive the turning of the Mayan calendar. You may also catch her ruminating from time to time and space to space on her blog AstroMythoLosophy

LOCATION: A-Space Anarchist Community Center // 4722 Baltimore Avenue, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19143
TIME: 6:45PM, Friday April 26th, 2013
FACEBOOK RSVP

See videos from past Laser Life gatherings here.

HOUSEPARTY

WE HAVIN A HOUSE PARTY FUNDRAISER TYPE JAWN

PHOTOBOOTH w/LATEST FRACTAL-EDGE AUGMENTED SPX TECHNOLOGIES
ROOM OF SPIRIT & TIME LOUNGE
CELEBRATION OF THE SUN RETURN OF METROPOLARITY MEMBER R.PHILLIPS
PUBLIC RELEASE OF SE:1 EP:1 METROPOLARITY ZINE

BLACK LIGHT :: STROBE LIGHT
SPACE PUNCH (U-IN-THE-FACE)
SOUND TECHNIQUES W/ OUR OWN DJ ALEXX & SPECIAL GUEST DJ JOHN MORRISON
BASS BANGERS FUTURE FUNK TRAP SHIT BROKEN-BEAT TWERK ANTHEMS DETROIT TECHNO WHATEVER WHATEVER WHATEVER

BRING YOUR PROSTHETIC BODY PARTS
BRING YOUR CRYSTALS
BRING FIVE ($5) BUCKS

ONLY WEIRDOS
ONLY FREAKS
ONLY SKANKS
ONLY SPACERS
ONLY OANKALI
ONLY WITCHES
ONLY ANARRESTI
ONLY GIFS
ONLY FREMEN
ONLY GLITCHES
ONLY CYBORGS
ONLY SAIYANS
ONLY ONLY ONLY

OFFICIAL BUSINESS. YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUESTED.

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Metropolarity is honored to read alongside author IMOGEN BINNIE on tour supporting her debut novel NEVADA. An ALL STAR CREW from PHILLY & NY will read to you. Let’s get intimate~

Metropolarity x Nevada book tour with Imogen Binnie and Red Durkin

be there!

WHEN: APRIL 3
TIME: 7:30–9:30
WHERE: A-SPACE @ 47th & BALTIMORE AVENUES, PHILA PA
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WHO & WHAT:

IMOGEN BINNIE
Imogen Binnie is the author of the zines The Fact That It’s Funny Doesn’t Make It A Joke and Stereotype Threat. Additionally, her work has been anthologized in The Collection: Short Fiction from the Transgender Vanguard, released in Fall 2012. She is currently a monthly contributor to Maximum Rocknroll and has previously written for Aorta Magazine, The Skinny and PrettyQueer.com. She writes about books at www.keepyourbridgesburning.com, and she’s 1/3 of the legendary doom metal band Correspondences.

NEVADA
Nevada is the darkly comedic story of Maria Griffiths, a young trans woman living in New York City and trying to stay true to her punk values while working retail. When she finds out her girlfriend has lied to her, the world she thought she’d carefully built for herself begins to unravel, and Maria sets out on a journey that will most certainly change her forever. Find out more about Imogen Binnie and Nevada at http://topsidepress.com/nevada/.

RED DURKIN
Red Durkin is the managing editor of PrettyQueer.com and one the most promising young queer comics in the country. She has toured extensively as part of the Tranny Roadshow, performed at Camp Trans and the Transgender Leadership Summit and was a member of the Fully Functional Cabaret. She has written 9 zines, was featured in the final issue of Punk Planet magazine and Topside Press‘s The Collection: Short Fiction from the Transgender Vanguard.

Her work on Youtube has reach over 100,000 views and has appeared in classrooms and boardrooms nationwide. Her upcoming novel, Ready, Amy, Fire is scheduled to be published by Topside Press summer 2013.

Born in Indian, Alaska and raised in Raleigh, North Carolina, Red currently lives in Brooklyn, New York.

MAGGIE EIGHTEEN
Maggie Eighteen writes ALL THAT’S LEFT (cyborgmemoirs.com), an ongoing collection of non-linear pulp dystopian stories from the post-binary future. Eighteen is a founding member of Metropolarity(.net), a collective of artists, activists, and futurists, in the Speculative Vision and Critical Liberation Technologies departments. They/he/she is a cyborg from Olney, raised in AOL chatrooms and the wilds of Northeast Philly.

RAS. MASHRAMANI
Ras Mashramani is NSF[anything] and lives in the intersection of cyberspace and memory. She is a founding member of the Philly-based speculative fiction collective Metropolarity, and her work appears in the latest issue of The Painted Bride Quarterly. You can find her work at Metropolarity.net.

ALEX SMITH
An anvil. A wild leaf wafting to the grass on the tendrils of ghosts and the dreams of our fathers. A naked vein and the enmity of ether. A myth of the lamp of the universe; a light to guide you to it. All of these things we know, all of these things we seek, all are encompassed in spiritual vortex of the works of Alex Smith. His is the power to weave on the most dangerous loom.

Smith is a queer black activist, poet, dj, actor, musician, afro punk/afro-futurist chronicler of the naughty universe. Smith’s work speaks to the edge, to the post-fringe dystopia slowly creeping upon us. Too cantankerous and flamboyant for the Saul Williams wanna-be/def poetry set, too tribal for academia, Smith paints viral inscriptions for an audience of armed pixie insurrectionists. He is the founder and curator of the queer-empowered Laser Life sci-fi reading series. Alex’s poetry collection, “Gang Stalk Oprah“, with its lines hashed like an SAT-word injected SEPTA bus graffiti, and his sci-fi literary zine “A R K D U S T” will kidnap you, convert you, shoot you in the leg and then set you free.

Read from Imogen’s tour diary here.

Check out our Calendar for more upcoming events like these.

Ohh the Zine-A-Thon! This was a good way to spend a Sunday. We sat around a line of tables piled high with crafting supplies, surrounded by books and zines in the anarchist book shop, Wooden Shoe. The crews behind Roots and River Philly and Femme Dreamboat zine had invited Metropolarity along to read as part of their cozy fundraiser. Among all the zine making there were snacks, there was some five for five pizza action, and there was a lot of really good casual radical discussion the likes of which is usually only seen on tumblr threads.


Cyree Jarelle Johnson kicked off the readings with Femme Privilege Does Not Exist, a must-read/must-listen essay that seemed to generate a minor paradigm shift online about femme-centered discussions (and even had its own follow up video).


Then R. Phillips of The AfroFuturist Affair read us a very delicious bit of spherical time travel, quasi hard science fiction…


Ras Mashramani closed out the night reading from our PILOT EPISODE ZINE, answering IS SCI-FI POLITICAL, and expounding a bit upon Metropolarity’s intentions. Then they read Web 1.0 Raises a Woman and we all wept.

Overall, a good time was had.

Check out our Calendar for upcoming events like these.

zine-a-thon with femme dreamboat & roots and river philly

Femme Dreamboat and Roots and River Philadelphia are having a Zine-A-Thon! Five whole hours of zine making as a fundraiser for Roots & River Philly Collective + for Femme Dreamboat Zine! They’ve invited local folx with zines to read from their zines, or teach a zine related skill every hour.

You want even more of a reason to come??

March 17t is the day that Mercury gets out of Retro. Thank the stars.

Event Details

Sunday March 17th, 4pm to 9pm
at Wooden Shoe Books & Records
704 South Street, Philadelphia, PA 19147
Facebook Event Page

Sliding scale donation $3-25 if you come WITH zine supplies to share, $5-30 without any supplies. No one turned away for lack of funds.

Hosts

Roots and River Philadelphia is an artistic home for Queer Black artists in Philadelphia. R&RPC works to provide programming & other resources for LGBTQ & POC artists. You can find more information about them at the Roots and River main site, and or the Philly collective’s tumblr.

Femme Dreamboat is a radical zine and blog project designed to centralize feminine experience in queer culture. Follow their excellent blog here.

Presenters

R. Phillips is the creator of the AfroFuturist Affair, a founding member of Metropolarity, and a public interest attorney by day. Against the backdrop of night, Phillips explores the fine line between fiction & reality, experiments with time order, and turns black holes inside out to create nu worlds.

Maggie Eighteen writes ALL THAT’S LEFT, an ongoing collection of non-linear pulp dystopian stories from the post-binary future. Eighteen works with Metropolarity, a collective of artists, activists, and futurists, in the Speculative Vision and Critical Liberation Technologies departments. They/he/she is a cyborg from Olney, raised in AOL chatrooms and the wilds of Northeast Philly.

Ras Mashramani is NSF[anything] and lives in the intersection of cyberspace and memory. She is a founding member of the Philly-based speculative fiction collective Metropolarity, and her work appears in the latest issue of The Painted Bride Quarterly. You can find her work right here on this site.