ISSUE no. 24 [2015] / ANTAGONIST PIECE no.

367 / He Said, She Said


Dear Reader,

THE ANTAGONIST MOVEMENT Why? We want to change
the art world by creating the next
movement. How will we do that?
By casting a large net—creating
venues that allow artists to experiment, pulling artists out of their
solitary existence and creating a
community. By fostering otherwise
overlooked concepts and individuals, and ignoring an artist’s
background regardless of education,
social class, or location. By unlocking hidden potential. What will
this do? Change everything. Art
changes the social fabric at large.
branch of the Antagonist Art
Movement’s press and has been in
existence since 1988 under the
original title East Coast Exchange.
It acts as a venue for our writers,
artists and editors.
In an attempt to create new forms
of art and writing, we highlight the
obscure and unknown artists, draw
focus to subjects passed over by the
mainstream media. This is a
not-for-profit publication.
Artists/writers donate their time to
create this. The content is a mixture
of fiction and nonfiction. We also
cover news of the art world, from
street to gallery. Back issues can be
found at “Psycho Moto Zine
archives” at To
learn more about the Antagonist
Movement, look us up on Wikipedia.

He Said, She Said was a
horrible movie starring
Kevin Bacon and Elizabeth
Perkins. In this issue you
will find bits of overheard
conversations, misunderstandings, and the occasional perversion of things
- Ethan Minsker





& Kristin


So, if you enjoy what you have read,
please take a moment and look up
our films and books. Find our
catalog listed at the end of this issue.
There are digital copies of
each for $1.99 on Amazon. We
believe the price shouldn’t hinder
you, so we do our best to have a
cheap alternative to the hard copies.
We are passionate about each
project, mixing love and attention to
detail to create a unique work of
art. Our goal is to make something
the large
entertainment companies fail to do,
which is create inspired works that
cater to like-minded individuals. All
the money we generate goes back to
creating new art projects and
supports a large community of
struggling artists.

currently editing our new film Self
Medicated. Some copies of this
fanzine will come with test copies on
The Antagonist - A novel about
all of our projects for the last ten
years and more. There is a back-story to everything we do, including
this fanzine. Want to know how we
operate? This is the book for you.
Release date - 2016
FAHRENHEIT - Open mic the
first Sunday of every month,
features new writers. Sign-up starts
at 8pm and the readings start at
9pm at Black & White 86 East 10th
Street between 3rd and 4th Ave.
Five minutes to tell your best story.
Comics and abstract comedy
welcome. Must be 21 years of age.
PUBLIC ACCESS SHOW MNN channel 67, Tuesday nights at
11 p.m. “Antagovision.” This
30-minute show covers events,
artists’ studio tours and more. With
over 70 episodes, you can see what
we have been up to for the past ten

Questions? Comments? Stories?
Suggestions? Contact us at, email us at
or follow/message us at
Facebook fan page! We put out
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where you are in this world.
Whatever your favorite flavor is, we
got you covered. Follow and see lots
of photos of Ethan and his little girl
doing stupid shit you don't care

To find out about film screenings
and art shows visit us at



Internet dating has come a long way. My cellphone is smarter than me,
so I was hoping that it would find me a girlfriend. The phone and I first
tried Tinder, but quickly moved to Grinder, Happn, and eventually Hot
or Not, where we found Madel. She wasn't like all the other girls, Madel
liked to get to business. Right away she friended me on Facebook, (2nd
base for internet dating). I readily accepted her friend request even
though I was her first friend and she had only been on Facebook for 3
hours. It's not everyday that a beautiful woman wants to be my friend.
Two minutes into our new friendship, she asked me if I was ready for
Skype. Ready, I was INDEED!
madel bautista: hi there
madel bautista: hello...
jackiehoffman1: your camera is not
madel bautista: i have...but im
naked now
madel bautista: are u alone now?
jackiehoffman1: yeah
madel bautista: ok so you want to
make some fun with me now?
jackiehoffman1: ok...
madel bautista: ok you will join me?

jackiehoffman1: I can see you really

jackiehoffman1: yeah

madel bautista: ur cam is blurry
madel bautista: can u take off ur
shirt now

madel bautista: see me now?
jackiehoffman1: yeah

jackiehoffman1: your cameras

madel bautista: ok but I cant see u

madel bautista: show me ur cock

jackiehoffman1: there you are
jackiehoffman1: oh my god!


madel bautista: don't move its blurd
i want to see it clearly
madel bautista: don't move please
madel bautista: don't move
jackiehoffman1: [Call ended 3
minutes 4 seconds]

madel bautista: Mercedes Hoffman

madel bautista: [Call started]
madel bautista: Ok then show ur
cock now then dont move so i can see

Penny Morlan

madel bautista: dont move please
madel bautista: its blurry
madel bautista: dont handle it and
dont move
madel bautista: still blurry
madel bautista: dont move

Laurie Levendusky
Ray Guajardo
Megan Grace

jackiehoffman1: lemme see you
jackiehoffman1: I wanna see your

AnneLena Mattison

madel bautista: please dont move in
a minute so i can see it clearly
madel bautista: dont play it
madel bautista: take your hands off
to your cock i want to see how long it

Savannah Mattison
Ryan Romana
jackiehoffman1: video is pretty
good though

jackiehoffman1: I just came
madel bautista: OK NOW I

madel bautista: YOUR JOB!
Contemporary Adult MUsic
jackiehoffman1: this is gonna be

jackiehoffman1: and they think i
am totally insane anyway because i
am an artist
jackiehoffman1: you can keep it for
your self

madel bautista: TELL ME NOW
jackiehoffman1: i don't want you to
spread it
jackiehoffman1: but i don't care if
you keep it
jackiehoffman1: my cousin doesn't
need to see my penis… that would be

madel bautista: Contemporary
Adult MUsic , YOU WANT ME TO
jackiehoffman1: you
wanna post it on
my mural site?

madel bautista:

u want ?


or u want
me to delete
ur video now

jackiehoffman1: i
thought it was
kinda weird that you
wanted to do naked skype
jackiehoffman1: i don't think
you should spread it
jackiehoffman1: i don't really talk
to my family that much

madel bautista: ok bye i will do my
work now

madel bautista: you want me to
delete it ?

jackiehoffman1: you are really

jackiehoffman1: i generally try to
keep my dick and my murals separate


madel bautista: give me money now
and i will delete ur video and i will not
post it to anyone

meant to be together. I really like you
a lot.
madel bautista: why ?

jackiehoffman1: i don't have any
jackiehoffman1: i am a broke artist

jackiehoffman1: cause you’re kinda
evil...I like the misfits.

madel bautista: only 100$
madel bautista: to end this

madel bautista: you still like me??
After all I did to you? I don’t believe.

jackiehoffman1: i bar back at a bar.
and i paint alot
jackiehoffman1: i don't have $100
jackiehoffman1: i have $2 in my
bank account

jackiehoffman1: i wanna see you
madel bautista: for what ?
jackiehoffman1: cause you're

madel bautista: ok bye

madel bautista: i know lol :P

jackiehoffman1: and a change jar

jackiehoffman1: does your mic

madel bautista: (wave)
madel bautista: bye

madel bautista: nope

jackiehoffman1: bye
jackiehoffman1: hows the black
mail going?

jackiehoffman1: ahh
jackiehoffman1: turn your cam on
madel bautista: i will if u tryong to
sned me 50$ tomorrow ?
madel bautista: please

madel bautista: (kiss)
jackiehoffman1: maybe you should
try for guys in relationships, or guys
with good jobs... like politicians, or
doctors with families…also $100 is not
very much money.

jackiehoffman1: i can't send any
money right now cause I just don't
have any
jackiehoffman1: i am paying all of
my money in rent for this appartment

madel bautista: I know...its just the
beginning money.

madel bautista: what about

jackiehoffman1: I was just listening
to David Bowie’s “Dream Genie” and
I thought about you...I think we were

jackiehoffman1: i will not have any
money then either

madel bautista: yes
jackiehoffman1: turn on your
camera, i wanna see your pretty face

madel bautista: ;(
madel bautista: I need the money
for my grandma. She is sick in the
hospital. She is in the critical condition.

(madel turns camera on)
madel bautista: see me ?
jackiehoffman1: hey
jackiehoffman1: still naked

jackiehoffman1: i am still behind
on my rent from this month and its
the 23rd already
madel bautista: (weep)

(madel turns camera off)
madel bautista: im going to the
bathroom now talk to you later

jackiehoffman1: don't cry baby
jackiehoffman1: don't be sad

jackiehoffman1: [Call ended 7
minutes 47 seconds]

madel bautista: how can i do that
if i know that my grandma is in the
critical condition

jackiehoffman1: [Call started]
jackiehoffman1: [Call ended – no

jackiehoffman1: i know your heart
hurts right now


Call and Response


Any woman in NYC (or any major metropolis) knows the exciting
world of catcalling. Here are some recent favorite lines that I have
spewed back at those men kind enough to give me street commentary
(I hope you all die).
Him: “Whoa there, hey sweetie.”
Me: “I want to kill you.”

[Outside my apartment 5 fucking AM]
Him: “Oh hey honey…how you—“
Me: “Dude, it’s 5 a.m. Waaaay too
early for this shit man.”

[Fucking teenagers]
Him: “Hey there, baby.”
Me: “You’re like 12, go away.”

Him: *Catcalling whistles*
Me: “Fuck you!”
[note: this response is a common favorite of

Him: “Hey there honey, I like your
Me: *severe vomiting motion*

Him: “S’up mami?”
Me: “Don’t be a pig.”

In conclusion, don’t catcall me. One day, I
just might fucking stab you.


The Rains Came
and Stayed


The rains came and stayed. They also deposited several drips at the bar. Like
an eighth grade dance, the genders huddled in separate corners. At one end of
the bar was a pack of women staring into the smartphone glow that illuminated
their damp faces, all the while discussing what was wrong with the boyfriend of
the other. Toward the door was a gathering of modern urban males, all in plaid
or checked button-down shirts. “I didn’t know Purina made clothes,” was
what I snidely slid into my friend’s ear as I noticed the tipping skills of the pack.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Michelle said while lifting her stemware to
retrieve an inebriated olive.
“Eh, it’s a living. Besides, saloon keeping, beer tending if you will, is
a noble profession I suppose.”
“It’s more of a service,” Michelle said, with a smiling eye.
“It’s more of a charity,” I surmised. “I mean, look at these guys. They
couldn’t get laid in a women’s prison.”
“Well, I got to head out,” Michelle said. “Do you have Ethan’s film? I’m
supposed to drop it off to him.”
“Oh yeah, tell him I loved it, particularly his recurring semi-nude
scenes. It’s like finding the Hitchcock cameo; you just never know
where Ethan’s back tattoo will show up.” She laughed as I handed her the
DVD with a note that read “I LOVE TO SEE YOU NAKED,” not realizing
that Kristin, my recent blond-haired conquest, had come in to see me and was
situated behind Michelle. Her inquisitive blue peepers must have scanned the
contents of the note because it was at that point she turned on her big girl heels
and stormed out with one finger raised. I’ve only had that finger pointed at me
once before by her, and it’s not pretty. It seems to almost vibrate and take on an
aura all its own. So, there I stood, amongst all the drips, unaware of what the
hell I had done or if I was going to get laid tonight, and wondered if Kristin
was illuminating her face with the harsh light of text messages about me.

Sylvia Ortiz




Brother Mike

I have a 20-month-old boy by the name of Thomas. The last time we took him
to the pediatrician she told my wife and I that "HE IS A TAPE RECORDER
and everything you say he is likely to repeat." My wife and I have been
careful with curse words and politically incorrect humor around our boy,
although things do slip out every once in a while.
Thomas knows how to pronounce a few words like Mama, Dada, playground,
bye-bye, and Shake Shack. He always surprises us with how much he can
understand but not actually pronounce yet.
Last week we took a family trip to Oakland to visit my wife's family. The first
day of our trip began on a 6 hour plane ride that had our boy screaming his
head off and crying for most of the flight. Some toddlers do not fly well.
On the second day of our trip we made our way to a little nearby village to get
coffee. On the way to coffee we passed a place called UNEEDA CLEANERS.
Yes, Uneeda Cleaners. I looked in the window and saw Asian people working
and wondered if the name UNEEDA CLEANERS was a joke or really the
name of the cleaners. I could
not help myself and out loud I
said (in cartoon Asian accent)
My wife gave me a dirty look
and reminded me to not say
politically incorrect stuff in
front of our boy. I rolled my
eyes. Later in the day I was
excited to tell my wife's family
and how amusing I thought it
was. They did not find it as
amusing as I did—perhaps
they watch too much PBS and
read the fucking Wall Street
Journal or something—I don't

On the third day of our trip we rode a children's steam train and had ice cream
at Fenton's, a local Oakland landmark. When my wife was out of earshot I
would look at Thomas and say with enthusiasm, "UNEEDA CLEANERS,
UNEEDA CLEANERS," and he would smile.
The fourth day of our trip I got to make a trip into San Francisco and spend
some time with my childhood pal. I told him about Uneeda Cleaners and we
laughed and laughed.

The next day my wife took her family out for dinner while I stayed behind to
watch my boy and put him to sleep. I do not know how many times I said
"UNEEDA CLEANERS" to him but it was more than a few. I texted my
friend Jim, who works for a Japanese bank down on Wall Street and said simply,
"UNEEDA CLEANERS," with no explanation. He wrote back “Mushi
he last
three days of

our trip were spent taking our boy to local playgrounds,
drinking tons of coffee, and hanging out with the wife's family and pretty much
just taking it easy. Any time I would change my boy's diaper and was alone with
him I would make sure I said “UNEEDA CLEANERS” as much as possible
without getting caught by my wife. She does not think it is funny, which makes
me say it more. I am 49 years old, going on 12!!!!

The airplane ride back to NYC sucked. Thomas screamed and cried. We
walked into our Brooklyn apartment last night around 11:30 p.m. I looked at
our luggage and said, "We have a ton of laundry to do tomorrow."
My son looked at me and said (the best a 20-month-old can speak) "UNEEDA
CLEANERS????" My wife gave me a very dirty look.



This city is a bubbling cauldron of interesting conversations. You can
catch snippets in bits and pieces, and like a blender you can extrapolate
your own meaning. For my books and films, I listen. Writing notes
keeping the history and timeline of the little part of someone’s world
that I have overheard. If you want to be a good writer all you have to do
is listen.
“Do you tip on a lobster roll?” [big
girl with wavy black hair]

"She's going to hang onto that cock
like it's the only cock she knows,

“I tip a dollar,” [her bigger friend on
the left side]

39th street, walking south on 7th Ave. Two
overweight Puerto Rican girls with big
hoop hearings and tattoos on their necks.

“At a bar you have to tip. If the
drink is 10 dollars I tip 1 sometimes
2,” [a friend on the right side]

"I had a UTI. I had to go to the
doctor, they had to take stuff out. It
was disgusting"

“The bill is 60 so we need to tip 40,”
[girl with her back to me.]

Woman, mid-20s with long blonde hair
and white cut off shorts. Ninth Street @
Third Avenue. Talking into her cellphone at
top volume.

“That is too much. It's 20 percent”
[first girl]
“I was tipping like 25 percent,” [girl
with her back to me.]

"I swear that really big guy farted
when I walked by."
[Asian mother, late 30s.]

Group of girls in window table Corner
Café, Newport RI

"That's how some guys flirt."
[white, shaved-head, tattooed
husband, mid 40s.]
Tompkins Sq. Park playground

“…like a cloud shooting up
heroin,” [a guy in the kitchen to his
friend. Overheard by Paul in the
graphics room.]
Paul: “How would a clown get
money to buy heroin?”
Adrian: “Cloud, they said cloud.”
Viacom building, Times Square


"You know in Germany you get 8 of
these." [middle-aged white woman,
hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.
She points to beer in a clear cup. (I
think she means a pitcher of beer)]

"Yeah you know…I had a secondary
fracture…No it was a compound
fracture…Stan lost his job for not
turning in his grades. It's too bad he
never got to have the academic
career he wanted…"

"Not in Central Park. Where are you
from?" [Old white man selling cups
of beer from a cart]

Middle-aged white woman holding a lap
dog, talking loudly on cell phone, taking up
entire bench without getting ice cream
from the place she was sitting in front of:
Sundaes and Cones on East 10th street

"Poland. I went to Germany with
my boss. It was heaven. You know
October fest? The people were so
"You visiting?"

“I think you know when it’s true love
if you can make out with someone
while taking a shit,”

"No I live in per…per…Paramus is
not how you say it."

Husky bald man with a beard, talking to a
friend sitting across from him. Coffee
Shop, Bennington, Vermont.

Boathouse, Central Park

Mos Eisley



Ah, bartending in the East Village. I’ve been doing it for the majority of my
adult life. I can never decide if I love it or hate it. I know that I hate when
people are rude or disrespectful to those who are serving them, or to one
another. I’ve done everything to manage kooky patrons, from making them
stand in a timeout corner to throwing out a Santa who proudly announced that
he pooped his pants. But then I remember that, in the end, they are just
drunken toddlers and it is unfair for me to expect anything more than steady
mouth breathing from them. Furthermore, my job is to make sure that they roll
home happy, unhurt, and not completely devoid of all feigned dignity. As such, I
can spot an “about to throw up face” from ten feet away and have become
very adept at encouraging any violent bodily fluid/nonfluid releases to occur in
the bathroom (hopefully in the toilet as opposed to the sink as it really blows to
clean impersonal vomit chunks out of sinks).
I also know that I love when people let loose and allow themselves to connect

with people they wouldn’t normally encounter—when the entire room is
swarming with restless spirits awkwardly posturing in a suspended reality, kinda
like the bar in Star Wars. Restless spirits who want to feel something that night,
whether it be pure joy, absolute confusion, or true love—none of which they
will/want to remember the next day. Good thing they have me to remember it

for them: the smooshy-brained miscommunications, misunderstandings, and
glorious misfires that take place in that suspended reality. Cue the circus music
(duh duh da da duh da duh duh da da). It runs through my head from the
beginning of my shift until closing time, since it’s the only way that I can make
sense of the Charlie Brown adult babble of, “Wah wah wah wah
wah…gimme a…uh, I dunno what I want…wah wah wah
wah…wait…8 shots of fireball…wah wah wah wah…no 2 shots…no
wait, wah wah wah wah…4 shots…oh wait…you have my credit
card…wah wah wah wah…oh, my bad, you’re right, I’m holding
it…wah wah wah wah…hey, I changed my mind…what’s good?...wah
wah wah wah…just gimme a bud lite…wah wah wah wah…hey, this
is a water, why are you giving me water? I’m not drunk…I’m a
bartender too…okay, I’m really not, but it doesn’t look that
hard…wah wah wah wah.” I always find that soundtracks are paramount
to mood control. Just because I am imagining clown cars and talented freaks
skipping around the room to a little accordion ditty while I’m making an Old
Fashioned doesn’t mean that I’m not being present. I’m so into the absurdity
that it’s probably a problem.

We have a regular customer who my fellow bartenders and staff have
nicknamed “Thor.” Thor is a very tall, broad, and husky European
fellow—probably about 6’7”—with
long flowing blonde hair and a
penchant for wearing very tight
pants and very tiny vests. We don’t
know where he came from or why
he comes to our little hidden bar
or if he is secretly a Red Bull
ambassador since that is the only
thing he ever drinks. But Thor’s
favorite thing to do is to show
up on a Saturday night and
jump into a circle of 25 girls
in pretty dresses who are
passionately swaying to
“Dancing on My Own” by
Robyn. That song has


become the lonely girl theme song for every 20something single gal in NYC.
The song comes on, they all get very wistful and begin to evoke tragedies that
never actually happened to them yet, and then sing along at the top of their
ME? OHHH OHHH OHHHH!” I realize that the demographics in NYC are
5 girls per every guy...but it is very strange to me that there are so many sad
single ladies running around these parts. That’s when I usually turn to my
coworker and exclaim, “We really outta hire some escorts to come in
here and pay attention to these poor women.” Then, out of nowhere, we
will see Thor burst through the door, almost on command, with swooping
perpetual windmachine hair and tiny sleeveless vest (even in the winter). He
hops right in with the group of longing girls who are realizing that there is just
too much talent and competition in this city for them to ever be as important as
they were in Minnesota, and jumps up and down, his fists in the air and voice
booming, singing in his Nordic accent, “I AM IN ZEE CORNER! YOU ARE
KISSING! OHH OHHH OHHHH!” For the most part, this works out well.
The girls feel that the curiously exotic European man who escaped from Ibiza is
paying attention to them. Thor entertains the staff with his spectacle and
inspired expression of what we have dubbed his move “The Wild Lutefisk,”
which is pretty much just “The Macarena” on speed, and he is generally quite
nice and polite and tips very well for a European. And then he usually finds a
very beautiful girl who feels “chosen” by the attention, picks her up, and
rushes out the door with her in a grocery-store romance novel-cover sort of way
and we all cheer as they depart into the garbage-littered streets together, the
scent of Drakkar Noir wafting through the air for the remainder of the night.
Believe me when I say, that this is about as beautiful as a bar experience can get.

Alas, one night very recently, this all came to an end. And it’s all my fault. Thor
joined us for New Year’s Eve and was noticeably much more excitable than
usual. “I LOVE ZEE NEWER YEARS!!!!” He was doing The Windmill to
Whitney Houston’s “I WANNA DANCE WITH SOMEBODY” when all of a
sudden, there was a disturbance. My Security Fellow ran over to the bar and
announced to me, “Thor peed on the floor!” “Huh?” I really couldn’t hear
what he was saying and asked him to repeat. “I said, THOR PEED ON THE
FLOOR! It’s a big puddle. He’s dancing in it and is completely
oblivious but it’s running down his pants!” So in that seemingly crucial
moment, we had to decide whether to embarrass Thor, or let it go. I made an
executive decision that anyone urinating on themselves should be apprised of
their involuntary bodily activities, regardless of how much fun their head
thought it was having. I walked over to Thor and reached up to tap him on his
sleeveless, tinyvested arm with the Pam Anderson barbed wire tattoo from 1992.

He turned around and immediately lit up when he saw me and gleefully
smiled in response and pointed to the puddle. “Thor, darling, you seem to
have had an accident.” He looked at the puddle, looked at me and replied,
BE FINE. DON’T WORRY!” And with that he did a little candlelit tap dance
in the puddle and ran out the door. I never saw him again after that night. But
at least I now know that “leaking a little” means “pissing all over myself
and trying to play it off as an attractive cultural difference” in
displaced glitterati speak. What was the name of that Stars Wars bar again?

Cinema Frantic


Cinema Frantic is a style of producing films employed by the Antagonist Art
Movement. It is derived from the frenetic energy created between filmmaker
and audience. The goal is to make films any way you can. The by-product is a
film that unlocks hidden potential.
How?: We screen the film to a test audience then re-cut the film a minimum
of 15 times based on the feedback we find helpful.
Resources?: We use anything
we can. Free locations, talent and
behind the scenes technical work.
These are a collaborative adventure led by the director’s vision.
Cinema Frantic is used to make
narrative films. For The Soft
Hustle we had a budget of about
2K. Most of that money went to
a hotel room and the drugs used
for one scene. We had no permits
and used real guns in the streets
of “old” New York. The process
we used to make that film
consisted of writing a scene a
week, and shooting for 2 hours
once a week, until we had
completed a feature film. It took 4
years starting in 1999.
photo by:
You have no money?: Write a
Ethan Minsker

story with what you have access too. You work in a hotel? Make a film about
that but make it the best story ever told. Write the script and ask everyone to
read it and give feedback until you are sure it doesn’t suck. Then make the
best film you can. Live to fail and fail again. You will make a shit film the first
few times. Now stop crying and make one more. The difference between
winners and everyone else is they failed over and over until they won. Stylistically, Cinema Frantic has animation, fast paced editing, a heavy use of
cutaways and a soundtrack made up of bands, subjects, and actors who are
only known in the underground. It is an evolving process and by no means
done, even when in its final form.
What you will not see: The predictability of Hollywood’s output—this is
something only a slim band of viewers will truly embrace. We will make low
budget films until we get shitloads of money, and even then would likely keep
the money and continue to make cheap cinema. Samples of these films
include: Self Medicated: a film about art, The Dolls Of Lisbon, This
Is Berlin Not New York and The Soft Hustle and Anything Boys Can
Do. Try making one yourself.




All Over But the Shoutin'

By Rick Bragg
Memoir - 329 pages
Language: English
Sept. 8, 1998 (Vintage; Reprint edition )
ISBN-10: 0-679-77402-5 ISBN-13: 978-0-679-77402-0
Cover art of this book is terrible and I would have never picked it up if it was not
recommended to me. I love books with great covers, it means care was put into all
of the elements of the book, not just the words. What is it about? “Rick Bragg,
who grew up dirt-poor in northeastern Alabama, and became a Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter for The New York Times. It is the story of Bragg's father, a
hard-drinking man with a murderous temper and the habit of running out on his
But at the center of this soaring memoir is Bragg's mother, who went eighteen
years without a new dress so that her sons could have school clothes and picked
other people's cotton so that her children wouldn't have to live on welfare alone.”
—pulled from the press release.
What I found compelling about this book is the recurring theme of the chip on his
shoulder and how he would use that chip to push himself to be better. My life has
been driven by a chip of my own, one that would tell me that because of my
dyslexia I couldn’t do a lot of things. As most books the first 50 pages rolled by
slowly, telling us about his struggles growing up poor. But maybe that is just me,
most books take me about 50 pages to get into. Once he becomes a newspaper
man then it’s all go, go, go, baby. If you are thinking of becoming a journalist, I
highly recommend this book. Hell, even if you don’t, I still recommend it. Bragg
has an easy-going writing style, like sitting at a café and having a chat with a good


By Alice Munro
Memoir - 352 pages
Language: English
Nov. 8, 2005 (Vintage)
ISBN-10: 1-400-07791-5

ISBN-13: 978-1-400-07791-5

From the cover you might think you would be reading one of those books your
mom might pick up on her way out of the checkout in the supermarket. Romance
novel? No this is not a romance novel, though there is romance in there. This is a


compilation of short stories, some of which link to other stories and some that
don’t. The writing is terrific and Munro has plenty of awards to back that
statement up. You can feel the characters and see them in your minds eye. There is
a feminine slant to the stories, which mostly center on women. Recommended for
travel and reading at the beach. I read this in Newport, RI so picture that. My
tattooed legs sticking out in the direct sun like uncooked chicken, reading about
women’s issues.

Bad Habits: A Love Story

By Cristy C. Road
Memoir - 192 pages
Soft Skull Press - Oct. 1, 2008 (Vintage)
ISBN-10: 1-593-76215-1 ISBN-13: 978-1-593-76215-5
The snarky review could be punk rock Sex in the City, but that would undercut a
lot of the value of this book. This is the story of a bisexual, punk, Cuban-American female writer battling depression who self-medicates with street drugs. What I
find most interesting in this work was the slow decline into self-loathing and
insanity during her youth and how it evens out close to the end of the book, which
reflects what you think would happen as you grew older. The chemicals in your
head settle someplace around the base of your spine and you can see more clearly.
There are wonderful illustrations throughout the book, also by the author. She used
to create a zine called Green’zine, and even thought it was a zine about Green Day,
it’s still cool that she did a zine.

The Straphanger’s Noose - $1
4” X 4” Format - printed: full color
Nice little piece of art. Photos of people on the NYC subway to and from work
accompanied by comical statements, as if coming from the MTA themselves.

Memories Can’t Wait - $1
4” X 4” Format - printed: full color
A collection of oddball photos left behind at a copy shop. It's like looking into
someone’s dirty secrets.

Everyday Pants #3 - $3

Format - printed: b&w


A fanzine about a nanny and her life. The artwork is great and for some reason I
find comforting. Maybe because when I can’t sleep or wake up in the middle of the
night I read fanzines. Ramsey Beyer stories are like peeking into her diary and
slipping into her life. Keep an eye on her, I am sure good things will come.

The Amazing Adventures Of Bill by Bill Roundy - $5

Format - printed: color cover, b&w inside

Bill is most known for Bar Scrawl, illustrated bar reviews of Brooklyn. But The
Amazing Adventures Of Bill is his personal story. Anecdotes of Bill trying to pick
up other men, work related stress, and other funny topics. A fun read.

Brooklyn To Mars: Issue 6 (Limited Run) - $7.99

4” X 4” Format - printed: color cover, b&w inside

Inspirational prose to get your butt doing stuff. No art, just text. It’s like a little
book of fortune cookies.

Garden of The Womanimal - $?
Format - Risograph (Risograph stencil duplicators are machines
that are somewhere in between a mimeograph and a copier)
This was produced for an art event. Filled with great works by Caroline Paquita.
Filled with fantastic art. Nice to have added to my collection.

Miserable And Worthless: Issue 1 - $?

Format - printed

Love the art in the book. A collection of about 21 female artists. The works appear
to be pen and ink.
This was a fanzine sent to me from Brazil I did not get it at the zine fest.

Brix Skwikz (Limited Run) - $3
2” X 1.5” (mini-zine) Format - printed: b&w
Translated into: Greek, Turkish, Japanese, French, Italian, and


It’s nice to have a piece of art that fits so well in the palm of my hand. There is
something comforting about that, or maybe it just makes me feel large. I would like
to see a baby reading it or maybe a mouse with glasses. They sent me two copies.
One was the story of a couple on drugs having a bad trip. The other was about sin
and love. Well done and well written. So much power for such a small work of art.

Yes. I know we usually only review vinyl records, but for these CDs we felt compelled to make an
exception, because the record label is so awesome.
Stout City Classic Records
[From their website]
Our City:
Stout City is a fictional city found inside Victoria, Texas, with the belief that the
independent lifestyle was being swept under the rug in the late 90′s. The name Stout
City was coined and its “citizens” accepted anyone who felt like the old town just wasn’t
for them. The name was launched in 2000 by punk bands Worm Suicide and The
Our Mission:
To bring together like-minded artists and musicians, push their craft further, and
document their work by distributing it through our record label, print house, art shows,
and music shows. We believe that art is found in every corner of the world, not just
museums, and that it is not always pretty or pleasant. We also believe that if it is true to
oneself, it will always bring out a response. We believe in documenting the music scene
by reissuing classic tapes and CD’s (with permission) from expired bands and releasing
new music from current bands within Stout City. The music is for distribution only. We
do not own it, all the songs belong to the artists and any money made goes towards the
band and funding future projects.

The Dirty Bluesmen Double EP
Band: The Dirty Bluesmen
CD - $5
Stout City Classic Records
The recording are lo-fi, sounds like they were done by Alan Lomax, the man who
drove around in his car and captured all those classic recordings. This is the kind of
punk rock I grew up loving. Fast paced, hard hitting, vocals shouted, not screamed,
like some damn heavy metal band. And even though it was recorded in 1998 it has
a sound from the 80’s. Why did people ever stop making music like this? Start a
mosh pit, stage dive into the crowd, pogo till you run out of sweat. Then do it all


Road To Nowhere
Band: Nowhere Heroes
CD - $5
Stout City Classic Records
Repetitive beats, monotone vocals, high school level lyrics. “You Don’t Know
Me”—not sure I want to? The singer sometimes reminds me of the Violent
Femmes. This CD is ok but not my favorite from this label.

The Blacklisted Anthology
Band: The Blacklisted
CD - $5
Stout City Classic Records
Oi band. Sounds like someone punched the singer in the mouth then pushed him
in front of a microphone. I imagine him with a swollen tongue doing his best to be
heard. I hear you little man, I hear you. Viking music for the pillager in you. Lo-fi
recording, I would have to guess from some time in the early 90’s. Fast paced
punk/skinhead music. This would go pleasantly with a can of some kind of cheap
beer. I don’t want to pretend I drink because I don’t, but don’t think I don’t enjoy
this. I do. It reminds me of my youth seeing skinhead bands at the Safari Club in
the late 80’s in D.C.

The Future
Band: Stout City Luchadores
CD - $5
Sinkhole Texas Inc. Records
1707 Austin Ave
College Station, TX 77845
Punk Rock: Fast, clean recording. Favorite on this CD is “Busdriver”—very funny.
Will get you tapping your feet and humming the songs. Makes me think of the
Business or Cockney Rejects. Nice cover art as well. Pick this one up.


Citizens For
The Arts

Citizens for The Arts, Inc. is a 501(c)(3) New York State licensed, federally

tax-exempt charitable organization. Donations are tax deductible to the extent
allowable by law.

Citizens for the Arts is
inspired by the foundations
created by The Antagonist Art
Movement. Located in New
York City’s East Village, and a
community staple since 2000,
the Antagonists consist of a
network of artists, musicians,
and writers that come together
to celebrate one another’s talents and provoke each other’s creative potential.
Since its inception the group has grown exponentially. As such, CFA has adapted
these foundations, adding initiatives to foster domestic and international cultural
exchange. The primary focus is to provide projects that enable learning opportunities, job opportunities, teaching and leadership skills, and growth and support
in other artistic ventures in each member’s respective community.
Please make a donation and help.



When we think of our home, we think of how we live, work, play, and the
comfort we experience in our humble safe haven. But what happens when the
delicate balance becomes interrupted? Citizens for the Arts (CFA), The Antagonist Movement and Psycho Moto Zine would like you to submit works on the
Theme of “Dwelling”. Their latest project examines the hardship and the
emotional ramifications of losing one’s home. Stories, Photos, and visual
artwork that illustrate the vulnerability of losing your home. These works are
representative of the social interactions amongst community members, and
reflections as told by artists who have seen them firsthand. Guidelines: 500
words or less (less is better); Art 300 DPI .tif or .jpg.
Send submissions to our Facebook page or

The Dolls Of Lisbon - A movie about
struggling artists making work on the other side of
the world. A DIY eyeball-busting bonanza.
Available on Amazon, iTunes and on DVD. Also
available at St. Marks Book Shop 136 E 3rd St,
New York, NY 10009. Money goes to making new
overseas art projects.

This is Berlin, Not New York - See what
trouble the Antagonists can get into when you
make art in abandoned buildings in Berlin.
Available on DVD and Amazon instant download.

Anything Boys Can Do - Female musicians are
all too often regarded as novelty acts, regularly
shrugged off as militant feminist or cutely entertaining. Overwhelmed by the numbers of male
bands, female bands of the scene are lumped
together in one category, "girl group", regardless of
their vastly different styles. Available on DVD and
Amazon instant download.
The Soft Hustle - The story of a Lower East
Side lowlife who makes a bet for $1,000, which he
promptly loses. After getting kicked out of the
apartment by his girlfriend, he finds himself having
sex with cheap barflies, robbing East Village stores,
and pathetically pretending he is gay just to have a
place to sleep. Available on Amazon instant


Rich Boy Cries For Momma - A first-hand
account of Washington, D.C.’s punk rock scene
in the ‘80s and ‘90s as told by a dyslexic punk.
Available anywhere e-books and paperbacks are
sold. Also available at St. Marks Book Shop 136
E 3rd St, New York, NY 10009 and Generation
Records at 210 Thompson St. between w. 3rd
and Bleecker St. Money goes to publishing new
Barstool Prophets - A book about the dirty
secrets every bartender in the Lower East Side
knows. Before you date a bartender, read this
book. Available anywhere e-books and paperbacks are sold. Also available at St. Marks Book
Shop 136 E 3rd St, New York, NY 10009.
Money goes to publishing new books.

Where can you get an
Antagonist shirt, button
or a buncha other stuff ?
Head on over to and visit
our Store


Dimitri [dima] Drjuchin


Dimitri (Dima) Drjuchin is an

artist/musician who was born in
Moscow, but grew up making images
and sounds in New York City.
Wielding the culmination of human
potential wrought from the depths of
the bicameral mind, Drjuchin’s art is
a hyperdimensional machine that
invokes creatures who come bounding forward with affection and
recklessness. These are not the Icons
of the Byzantine Church—they are
the new Incarnated Symbols of the
Multiverse. Drjuchin allows us a
glimpse into a fractulated moment of
cultural hypnagogic modality and an
opportunity to alter our perspectives
of reality.