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Peter Le Zotte

Growing up in the same Long Island county as Levittown, I was the child of tract-home Utopian visions and the bare-bones reality of middle-class gossip. My parents' house was chosen by the Scott fertilizer company to test new chemicals, so I grew with the comforting knowledge that our lawn actually was greener. However, something of wilting and decay reached me through the stories shared by and with my mother over coffee and cigarettes at the kitchen table, an underside to suburban life that emerged when shining commuter trains bound for Manhattan carried all the men away, and I've kept busy reconciling myself to the coexistence of order and chaos ever since. I come from a long line of peculiar people, such as my Greek relatives in Turkey who, when they weren't losing their tongues for speaking their native language, pushed for radical causes like education. The American teacher brought in to improve the small community ended up on my family tree, a marriage of Old World and New that thrives in me to this day. I live with my partner Katrina, a woman from a small American mountain town not necessarily unlike, yet worlds apart from, my mother’s mother’s birthplace, Ordu, Turkey. The process of something like Hegelian synthesis continues, a chase after spirit that's just as vague as in the philosopher's writings, but is nevertheless very real and very present.

Mother Antimony: Reflections of a Primate in a Strange World

February 24, 2013
A New Strange World

When examined at a distance, it seems that the greatest precepts of philosophy and religion are simply meant as correctives; they’re attempts to recreate some original state of moving with tides in environments that perpetually challenge and confound us with erratic, disharmonious rhythms.

Of Yokels and Internet Yahoos

January 4, 2013
Internet Connections

I know, bla bla bla Internet, bla bla bla democracy. I've heard it all too. It's easy to doubt the glowing talk about connectivity when the reality has gotten pretty tiresome. Progress in life, already full of artificial stressors, has had to reroute itself through yet another technological miracle, and there's no turning back...

R. and Me

December 8, 2012
Individual Value

Karl Marx, once hailed as the champion of all working people, is good and dead now, shot by President Reagan with his little bow and arrow, or so the heroic tale goes. More than a decade ago, pundits announced that the philosopher had taken Western idealism down with him. Well, icons and isms arise...