Manifesto
We are squatting in the last dilapidated building of traditional publishing.
We like how rainwater shoots from the light fixtures, how this place has so many fountains. We like the walls covered with graffiti and the raw beams across the ceiling. We like the sound of wild animals scampering down the hallways, and the portals they create when they gnaw through the plaster. We like the dirt, the damage, the danger.
Sure, Big Publishing might try to burn the meaning of books down to the ground and take us out with them. Then the first phase of gentrification can begin, ending with homogenized condos.
We’ll take this place the way it is, minus the shoddy ideals. We don’t need to resurrect it with noisy machinations, sterilize it with bleach, and coat it with cheap paint. In fact, the only renovation we plan to make is the removal of the boardroom and all of its contents (tables, chairs, graphs, charts, board members). We’ll be tossing that heap of shit from the rooftop.
So come on inside and have a look around. Be careful of the stairs. Several of the boards are broken, but that’s just the way life is.