I exist in Los Angeles. I also write, often obsessively, about art, culture, cities, and radical politics, in the form of fiction and non-fiction, prose, poetry, and scripts.

I’ve done so for Jacobin, Salvage, Los Angeles Review of Books, In These Times, Real Life, Popula, Protean (here and here), Marx & Philosophy Review of Books, Historical Materialism blog, Radical Art Review, Chicago Review, Against the Current, and others.

Currently I’m a member of the Locust Arts & Letters Collective, and write for its publications Locust Review and Imago. I was also an editor at Red Wedge for seven years and wrote for it frequently.

My first book, Shake the City: Experiments In Space and Time, Music and Crisis, was published in late 2022 through 1968 Press.

This current project is a last chance to write something that says something. Something set apart from the endless listicles, the craven apologia, the performative outrage overflowing on social media.

There’s no shame in writing listicles of course; I’ve done it myself to make ends meet (as for posting on social media, that’s a shame we all bear). We know we need more, though. This is a modest attempt to contribute to that nebulous more. If I can also manage to keep the lights on along the way, then all the better.

Yes, as is to be expected on this platform, I will often ask you to…

You can give me money if you like, particularly if you think paying will give you an added incentive to actually read what I write. In return, you’ll get access to exclusive content, the full archive, and the chat.

As for the content itself, like everything else in this centerless moment, it will be eclectic. The first hope is to provide something that, be it in the form of essay, poem, or story, be it regarding music, film, psychogeography, surrealism, critical theory, or whatever else, might actually enlighten.

The second hope, connected, is that by not artificially limiting my output, this might be a place where both you and I can think of all the different, needlessly atomized realms of human life in new lights. To think of theory as literature, to think of technology as poetry, or any other permutation, this might not lead anywhere. It might also be the first step toward leading our own alienated selves out of the shit.

Comments sections are, by their nature, cesspools. So commenting on any piece posted here has been disabled. If you want to discuss what you read, then collect your thoughts and send them through chat, or email them to alexbillet@gmail.com. I’m also intermittently active on Instagram.