I don’t like to admit failure, ever, if I don’t have to. I’m a big believer that you only fail when you give up. So I get out of failure by not giving up, and just trying again.

But SmutMag has failed. And I’m not putting any more time into it. I’m not trying anymore new angles to make it work–Ive tried every method my ethics will allow. It costs more than it makes. And I honestly can’t stand the humiliation of asking people who do not support the arts to please support the arts, anymore. Even if I could, I don’t have time to. I have to make money or I’m going to die. That’s basically all there is to it.

And after twenty years of fully exploring every which way to get people to support the arts, I’ve got my findings: Live performance is truly the only way. Pay-what-you-can models perform the most consistently.

Which is truly depressing because pay-what-you-can is highly volatile and NOT consistent. But it’s still the most consistent.

That said, I’m proud to have been one of the first to be out here every day warning people that what is happening to us online was the start of fascism. And I’m proud to have been a part of a zine Renaissance. I think I’ve written some good things here. And I’ve made one professional contact that has helped me immeasurably.

But my efforts are better placed in real life. When I play live, I don’t have to beg for support. When we’re in real, physical space with each other, suddenly my work seems worthy to people. Either it does not translate online, or people online are simply not inclined to give because no one is watching what they do. My time in street performance suggests that’s it–its a common theme that people need to see other people supporting to feel compelled to give. We don’t see each other. So no one gives.

But people ARE willing to spend on things that are hateful and stupid. Spending on the hateful and stupid requiress no prompting. Yesterday I met a man who runs a YouTube channel where he just films tweakers doing terrible things or freaking out. He makes a living off the merch, and has a following of 130k people.

It takes a real hatred, cynicism and lack of respect for your audience to succeed in the online space. “This isn’t really what I’m doing, It’s just about gaming the system and building an audience,” this YouTuber explained. He’s not REALLY a guy who exploits people on the bottom for personal gain. It’s just entirely what he does and the entire brand he’s built. It’s an example of a successful brand. And I can’t do it. 

Good work takes a lot of work. Bad work also takes a lot of work. The internet demands bad work. And I feel less that I’m providing a counterbalance with what I do, and more that I’m providing cover for bad actors. I don’t want to stand here as an example that there is anything salvageable on the internet, when taking on that role keeps me desperate, and makes the “successful” work of others–the terrible and exploitative work–seem respectable. It’s not. It’s heinous. And I don’t want to share billing with these fuckers.

I just don’t want to play in this arena anymore. If there was a club where no one ever came out and there was never any pay from the club owner or tips, I wouldn’t play there either. I don’t want to play in spaces where I feel the audience is not only not with me, but will never be with me, no matter what. I’m done playing to a deafening silence. I don’t want to play in spaces where it doesn’t matter at all if I’m here or not.

So what will I do when I have a very important blog I feel I need to write, or want to share a song? I’m gonna write it on paper and make it a zine. Or perform it live. Where it matters a little more, and where I’m not propping up total pieces of shit. Where I have a chance of support for the work.

We should let the online space be what it is: Actual hell on earth. People should understand immediately that they’ve walked into a meth den. Let it be filled with tweaker videos and nihilism. Let’s hope when it hits bottom people will finally abandon it.

I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I wish I could have done better. And I’d hoped to be able to share a little more on the great progress being made on my housing project. But I think those progress reports are gonna mean more to the real people in my real community who have actually helped me build it. Because I don’t really know who you and I are to each other, or if when people visit here it’s to ridicule or enjoy.

The good news is, in making SmutMag, I’ve created a whole new body of work that I can share with live audiences. They’ll let me know if it’s appreciated or not, and if it is, they are more likely to support it.

I’ve said it hundreds of times: if we don’t support the arts, and specifically the artists that make it, there won’t be any art.

And while I’m earlier than most on saying, “This is a venue I will not play,” I doubt very much I’ll be the last. I don’t think in ten years there will be much of anything online that is salvageable. The people trying to do good work will not be here–because it’s a complete waste of time, and the internet is hostile to good work. Its greatest appeal is masochism, at this point. It will only be bum fights, public humiliation rituals, and corporations posing as the antidote to the horrors you see nonstop. That’s basically what it already is. But the pretense will be gone when all of the artists exit.

I don’t want to game systems, or work algorithms or make manipulative work to try and keep your attention. I don’t want to tease out promises of sensational bullshit. I want to do good work, I want to show it to people, and if they appreciate it, I want them to pay for it.

But that’s not what the internet is for, and it will never work here.

I’m very scared about abandoning this project. There’s always that little bit of hope that maybe today will be the day I can squeeze blood from a stone. But it’s time to be realistic. The truth is I am typing into a void and playing for no one. I’m as mindfucked by this fantasy as anyone online.

But it’s not reality. The reality is that so long as my work is housed online, my work doesn’t matter.

However little respect an online audience has for entertainers and artists, I have to have more respect for myself than that. And, perhaps, I should have a little more respect for the audience. They’ve spoken. Who am I to try and steer them away from the bum fights and celebrity gossip they cherish? They value my work at zero dollars: it is disrespectful to keep inflicting it on them.

If I sound petulant it’s because I am. I’m hurt and disappointed. But I’m not done. I’m just not here anymore.

Here’s a plea for old time’s sake: If you’d like to help send me on my way with a little bit of severance, you can leave a tip. And I would greatly appreciate it.

But I still won’t be here anymore. Because this isn’t working and I have to face facts.

For the few who have supported this work, thank you. I’m very proud to have made work you enjoyed, and I’m grateful for how you tried to sustain it.

But it’s just not working. This is not only not sustainable, it’s dead.

I’m sorry.

But there is good news here, and hope for the future:

I envision a future where people gather to see concerts and plays and live performances. Where doing this helps them to build healthier social lives and feel they have a stake in defending their real, physical community. I envision a future where being online is the trashiest place you can be, and people are looked down on if their diet consists entirely of the internet. Where admitting you spend hours online every day isn’t an adorably relatable guilty pleasure, but is akin to saying you spend many hours a day shooting up.

I envision a future where artists feel empowered to say “my work is worth support,” and where they are not shamed into giving it away for the benefit–not of the audience– of tech fascists.

I’m envisioning a future where artists build the arts industry in real space, independently. That is where the counterbalance to this sick culture can happen. And in time, perhaps, become weightier.

I keep adding paragraphs because I keep asking myself if I’m sure. But I’m sure. I have to bar myself from this addictive machine if I’m ever going to focus my efforts where they might actually do some good.

That’s not here.

It’s been real. Thank you for going through this experiment with me.

This is a song I wrote yesterday. It’s pay what you will.