~ AN OTHER TWEEN
I first met Marc Jonathan when he was living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and came to know him as part of the sardonic, I-don’t-give-a-fuck crew of midwest anarcho-nihilist queers. It was a time when anarchists and activists around the country were trying to fill the void left by the decline of the anti-globalization movement and summit-hopping era. They turned a skeptical glance at identity, prefigurative politics, and despair over cultural recuperation. It was a scene which produced vulgar satirical criticisms of the most perverse kind; they touted friendship and crime as a post-political agenda, made obscene shirts, and tried to convince the world that the cool kids wore balaclavas, writhed in orgies, and sought desperately for riots wherever they broke out.