textfiles/magazines/ATI/ati-83.txt

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 - <Prime Anarchist wearing sage leaf around his head instead of laurel
         saying, "What am I, slopped shiver??">
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.



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