“if you will it, it is no dream – motherfuckers!“ says cliff proudly holding a stencilled t-shirt of theodore herzl, “its not a fuck you its a fuck yeah, … we also got a gola meir saying - don’t be so humble your not so great, biiiiich! – and that’s how i feel when i wear it, It makes me feel good. i want people to feel proud and unapologetic ; unlike larry david or woody allen’s style of self-depreciation.”

so when your not a dangerous bass player you do provocative spoken word? i’ve been writing poetry since my break-up with my girlfriend five years ago and i’m about to move to london (and he’s recently hooked back up with the same lady.) my poetry is about discouraging herd mentality. i view my expressionist, muscular poetry as vigorous exercise… when i’m performing i feel like a renegade fighter…

left lane ends

play a cover

alphabetic prophetic

ipod ppl

so what’s all this got to do with dreams? nothing but i had this dream where i was vomiting – but not like in discrete individual vomits, just one long non-ending stream of vomit. woah! and i woke up and wiped my hand over my mouth it was so intense. i could taste the bile at the back of my throat – the dream was so vivid, i thought i had puked in my bed. intense man – it made me think of that scene in team america where the puppet just keeps on vomiting. crazy shit.

and what's going on with the tshirts? we’ve prepared all these stencils of jewish figures. the herzl one here that you see is the only t-shirt in existence so far. if people are interested, they can contact me for one-off screen prints.

and that, ladies and gentlemen was cliff flax.

say what?

you can find cliff over here at myspace