ATI 83. Marco99@juno.com 26jun97 midnite PADDLE TO THE SEA. Do you remember reading that when you were a child? Could you please forward this 'zine to the most distant relative or friend you know? And if you don't mind, would you send me a short quick email note telling me what town I've reached too? I'd like to publish some of the results of this request in about 3 weeks, so there's time yet. This is NOT a chain mail or a SPAM although it may appear similar. It is a literary experiment much the same as Paddle, who was dropped in the Bay so many years ago with the copper legend attached to his bottom saying, "Please Put Me Back In Water; I Am Paddle To The Sea." Why Paddle to the Sea? Well, now that I'm about to leave the Great Lakes for good (save for short visits) I just realized how close I'd been to Paddle's setting all along. You could say he once (in the 1940's I believe) paddled right by my house on his way into the Atlantic. So could you please forward this to at least one other person? I'll try to let you know how it went in less than a month. Thanks, Prime Anarchist. Editor and Publisher Activist Times, Inc. OK A QUICK PAP #'S RUN AND WE'RE OFF TO LETTERS TO THE EDITOR http://www.downcity.com/sonj http://www.execpc.com/~tran/crossroads/MHF Hi, Thanks for including my poem. Interesting SEACetopia piece. Did you ever find them then or not? Peace, Aaron ps: here's a pome Yearning to be Free I am In a world where freedom has something to do with making more money and getting people to do what you want I am Trying to get away from it all to escape into insanity is the sane thing to do I am Wandering around by myself Walking city streets where I have never been and where none recognize my face Lying down in a city park Driving up and down county roads, watching farms and houses fly by, perhaps to end up in Canada I am Listening to music Listening loud but with headphones Random mode on the CD or Endlessly scanning the radio dial, skipping from song to song Listening to real student radio, a pirate, Radio Habana Cuba I am Running in the dark night outside as the thunder claps overhead and bursts of lightning burn their memory into my eyes while lighting my way Drenching myself I am On a Train somewhere between Goshen and Indianopolis, going South, leaning out of a boxcar with my hair blowing in the wind, my body warm in the sun, and the countryside rolling by I am Walking zig-zaggedly maybe skipping pretending to almost run into trees or trying to go backwards on the rails walking barefoot and feeling the tickle of the grass, the pangs of small stones, the wetness in a puddle, and the warmth of the blacktop Ignoring the children who are commenting I am Broadcasting the truth the voices of the oppressed, our dissidents of society and their music whether or not anyone is listening I am Dreaming and planning for my life, but more immediately for grad school and all the people I will meet there, their abilities, their truths they can teach me and each other, their power from within So much we can do and will I am Reading books Sometimes straight through Learning on my own what I want I am Stating Ideas that seem strange and foreign Wondering if property destruction is violent Trying to discuss latin american politics, more particularly the Zapatista insurgency in Chiapas Meeting with puzzled or blank faces I am Sleeping in any day of the week for eleven hours my favourite drug Praying for meaning in my dreams Living in dream world beats the real world I am Skipping class because there's more to be learnt Life is too long not to skip class My professor may be missing me But not I, for I am Breaking the law which one, I'd rather not say Violating Goshen College standards though not harming anyone I am Playing God in a universe I created watching my city or civilization grow fighting off the evil monsters on a quest I don't understand and never will fulfill Staring at this screen Typing a diatribe hoping somone will read it and care I am In the streets and on the sidewalks with tens with hundreds with thousands one day with millions I am Looking out the window at a tree not at the teacher not answering questions sowing the seeds of a poem in my mind I am Writing a computer program that if it won't change the world and win the revolution for us will at least let me rotate nice coloured blocks and fit them into a pattern I am Praying for the overthrow of the government (s) of several countries again in particularily Burma, Mexico, and naturally the US I am Drugging myself on a lonely Friday night with chocolate I am Reading Hayduke Lives on a Sunday morning in late November outside by a dam as snow flakes land gently on my coat Writing "EF!" with my feet in the snow I am Wearing a large paper mache bell costume handing out Hershey kisses during final exams Answering questions as to my political purpose Smiling I am Yearning to be Free I am In a world where freedom has something to do with making more money and getting people to do what you want I am Hi Marc, Thanks for the tip. Is there an electronic version available? You should check out Lawrence Walsh's new book on Iran-Contra, _Firewall_. Though clearly a conservative Rep., Walsh provides much insight into the sordid affair. Tom Dear Prime, I haven't heard from Hepcat. Didn't you say she'd write me? Skinny23. (ed note: No, just that I'd tell her. She hasn't written me either.) Dear ATI, Associated Press this morning has a Minnesota judge saying that tribal sovergnty (sp?) amounts to nothing more that "red apartheid. To follow his logic one could say that because China, Cambodia, Iraq and Argentina --Mexico for that matter-- aren't under complete US Government rule and control there is apartheid. Fact of the matter is reservations are vast neverlands seen as soverign when in government's best interest while at the same time seen as virtual wards of the state when THAT'S convenient. That's something worse than Apartheid, my friends. Having reservations as my stomping grounds my whole life I can say I don't need Clinton's helicopter to anounce with all candor that it's downright funky. When hitleristic thinking such as Judge "Minneapolis" passes down as credible common logic gets more and more prevalent (sp?) I get scared. Really scared. Funky; scared, Jason Fruit Vender. Jewish Chapter President. Minneapolis AIM. Hola, amigos! I'm out of it for a little while, and what happens? The Internet has exploded, and people with IQs that barely exceed their waist size are now online, polluting the Net with an onslaught of inane web sites catering to the lowest common denomiator. Microsoft is poised for world domination, and Clifford Stoll has a daily commentary spot on MSNBC's "The Site," no doubt imparting his great wisdom upon the masses. Some bozo on the radio asks me if I Yahoo, and I'm Tired of Wired Bill Clinton got re-elected. I'd say it's a good time for ATI to come back. I'm glad Prime anarchist is pumping out the ATIs again, and I'll be checking in during each issue to put my $.02 in. See you next issue.. Keep learning, and be creative GZ! gr0und0@juno.com (Way to go GZ!!! Welcome back. Great to hear from you again. Did you hear that people? Ground Zero is back active again. ATI is on an excellent path I think.) Someone just asked me to play the Pinky and the Brain theme song on my guitar. Anyone know how it goes? PRIME'S PROFUNDITY OF THE WEEK: Or An ATI Quotable Quote. "Notice that the dialtone includes a 440 HZ tone, pick up a phone, and tune your A string to the dialtone." --Mr. Noise. Of Sea Of Noise fame. Holy cow. I always knew that was one of the tones, but never considered it to serve that function too. Thanks for sharing, Mr. Noise. MEDIA WATCH -- Thanks, Washington Post. "The Internet is lousy with poetry," they say. They DO qualify that saying the use of the word "lousy" they prefer is "abundant, oversupplied." PHOTO - The post ends quoting a 1927 Robert Graves Poem about the "Cool web of language." They thought they were really artsy, didn't they??? Why not go back a century more and quote Chief Stealth? Or how 'bout the Bible?? Or better yet, reread Homer. If there's one thing the WHOLE MEDIA of internet, print, video, audio lacks these days (well, besides a sense of humor) it's: M U S E ! ! ! Reading an entire newspaper, or page for that matter, hoping for a few little words of inspiration is like watching 3 1/2 hours of live Grateful Dead waiting for that one "lick." Dear Mrs. Clinton: (an open letter) I am told you are the most respected woman in the United States right now. Were I still a signal soldier in the US Army, I would honor you as the wife of my commander in chief. But I don't. I must say with all honesty I only voted for you all because I was downright scared four more years of Bush and Reagan would surely ruin this planet beyond repairable recognition. Now to the meat of this rhetoric and then I'll close with a poem. I will find myself able to have respect for you if and ONLY IF YOU FREE LEONARD PELTIER. I really don't know how you can handle the embarrassment of calling yourself an American while another brilliant mind sits tucked away behind nationally chagrined bars, imprisoned merely for his views. I'm sure you've got a handle on the concept, "none of us free until all are;" I believe it with all my heart. Mrs. Clinton, I cannot find more than a handful of Americans who still want Peltier "neutralized." But then, maybe THEY'RE who run your life right now. So please, Mrs. Clinton. Instruct your husband tonite to stop embarrassing me and finally command my respect by granting Peltier his freedom. We Truly Are Related, Prime Anarchist cc: Amy Carter Lisa Faruoulo HERE'S WHY THE CAGED BIRD SINGS: A Postscript Poem For My Country's Leader. 1995. Here, hear the music of an Auschwitz violin circle. Hitler loved his music; and so his assistant. So the jew played Beethoven for seven straight hours; Before the assistant killed each musician. Smiles were everywhere; the music was beautiful. The caged bird sings because he is allowed. What song would YOU like to hear? AND NOW, PART 10: THE CONCLUSION OF MF'S GUIDE TO THE UNABOMBER'S MANIFESTO Originally published Dec. '95. Stonington. CT. "If I had to pick a few thousand words to print in the paper and assure the reading public that this is basically what the Unabomber people are saying, it surely wouldn't be them that WASH POST picked..." MF. 200. Until the industrial system has been thoroughly wrecked, the destruction of that system must be the revolutionaries' ONLY goal. Other goals would distract attention and energy from the main goal. More importantly, if the revolutionaries permit themselves to have any other goal than the destruction of technology, they will fall right back into the technological trap, because modern technology is a unified, tightly organized system, so that, in order to retain SOME technology, one finds oneself obliged to retain MOST technology, hence one ends up sacrificing only token amounts of tech. (note 203 applies here. See intro quote. (ATI #71)) 215. The anarchist too seeks power, but he seeks it on an individual or small-group basis; he wants individuals and small groups to be able to control the circumstances of their own lives. He opposes tech. because it makes small groups dependent on large organizations. NOTE 34. This statement refers to our particular brand of anarchism. A wide variety of social attitudes have been called "anarchist," and it may be that many who consider themselves anarchists would not accept our statement of paragraph 215. (ed note: you said a mouthful, toots.) It should be noted, by the way, that there is a nonviolent anarchist movement whose members probably would not accept FC as anarchist and certainly would not approve of FC's violent methods. (ed note: ibid!!!) 231. Throughout this article we've made imprecise statements and statements that ought to have had all sorts of qualifications and reservations attached to them; and some of our statements may be flatly false. Lack of sufficient info and the need for brevity made it impossible for us to formulate our assertions more precisely or add all the necessary qualifications. And of course in a discussion of this kind one must rely heavily on intuitive judgement, and then can sometimes be wrong. So we don't claim this article expresses more than a crude approximation to the truth. Here, as I promised in part 1 is my metaphorical ending. I call it SIR ISAAC NEWT: A Fig For Ishmael's Hate. by MF. Dedicated to President Of The United States Of America I O new Hank eighth, I pity thee Ye who serveth wives three. One in Heaven, dead too young, Another Lovely Lady One. Third a Pope who you helped stuff, By robbing goat and billary gruff. II So count your cash all you so skimmed Three pouches full, you black sheep you; Chucking scepter into lake of fire- son, so swim. Swim, swim mariner -- lest passing piranhas rip your flesh Look starboard. See Orion's belt; hides nothing Yet vexing, churning: you're ripe for gulfs to wash. Hank Hate, O you moved heaven and earth Have your way you miscreant -- for you -- A murky mire, lake of fire, craggy barren hearth. III So stuff your pockets lawless one Matthias, Jason's lizard son. Still whore and rob and symonize Whilst our welfare slips past your eyes; All the turtlewax in the world, Can never mask the freedom you have furled. That's all he or she wrote. to subscribe for phree: send SUBSCRIBE ATI as the message to: listserv@brazerko.com