150 lines
6.0 KiB
Plaintext
150 lines
6.0 KiB
Plaintext
ATI82. 6-17-97. 11:45 pm.
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short pap #'s run: 1-888-875-2233 pin # 0797
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http://www.geocities.com/rainforest/4101
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Prime Anarchist here.
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My life was threatened this afternoon just north of the Crandon Exxon mine
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site. I'm going to type in my journal notes from that verbatim, and then
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publish a friend's poem, and one of mine: and call that an ATI. All the
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other stuff I planned for this issue will have to go in issue #83 this
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Sunday. To quote teenagers (don't laugh, you were one once too) "SSS;" or
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"sorry so short/sloppy".
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A remembrance by PA
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Today I will be spending a day or two at SEAcotopia, SEAC's annual national
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gathering and the thought crossed my mind of a guy I met at Rutger's '88
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about when ATI issue 1 came out. He had curly black hair and "average"
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clothes on. What made him stick out in my mind was his Tandy 100 laptop. I
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owned a model 200, but opted to not bring it along.
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"What the heck you doing," elicited, "I'm writing a book about activism."
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Nothing more. 4 or 5 years later I saw him again at SEAC's annual convention
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in Boulder, Colorado. Someone else asked him that time, same answer. He's
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still writing a book about activism.
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I'd sure like to know who he is. I was tempted to ask him if he was still
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writing that same book or starting another. Boyee, if I see him tonite I
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may just have to ask, "you still writing that book???"
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Unable to find the SEAC campsite I flagged down a passing 4X4 to ask if
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they knew. Bad idea.
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"There's an environmental group camping out here on this road somewhere
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and they'd said look for signs, but I didn't see any," I asked. "Any idea
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where they might be?"
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"You're with them?" he asked me, and before I could finish saying not
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as a member but visiting, he gritted his teeth and said, "get the fuck away
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from me before you get shot." He popped the clutch and skidded off on the
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gravel road behind me about 45 miles per. I continued on thinking if I saw
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it ahead I'd go in, but I would not double back, fear of another skirmish
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like that. There was a bar a mile or two ahead so I asked in there. No one
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knew or none were talking. I went back out to my car. I was just wondering
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if I ought to check for sabotage when I saw that same "four-by" doubling
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back toward me. I put a hand up to show no weapons and get ready for
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whatever ghandian conflict resolution I could muster up on an empty stomach.
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I had to say I was writing ABOUT SEAC (student environmental action) and
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not "with" them which is partially true, or deliberately out of context or
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something. One's a logger and the other's the son of a logger it turned out.
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The logger's about my age the other went probably about 17 yrs old. My age
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had a long ponytail under a baseball cap like I used to wear, the younger
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guy had a complete skin like I wear now.
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Once I got rapor with them the one who'd threatened me said, "mostly what
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I meant back there was there's other loggers all over there who WILL shoot
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you." Then the other guy told me a bunch of stories about the terrible
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things "them people" did to his dad like let the air out of his tires.
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"We call them TREE HUGGERS," the threatener said. "They're in there," he
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told me, "you'll find 'em. I just don't know exactly where, and don't care."
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I told him I was just going to head home and say I couldn't find them. I
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asked him where County G was to route 55 and he was happy to tell me. Shook
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my hand and exchanged first names and everything. (no. I'm not ABOUT to
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print his information here.)
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They're probably still in that bar talking me up among the 10 or 12
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stools I'd asked while taking a leak just before that second encounter.
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"There's some environment group in there on Double Bend road I'm s'posed
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to be writin' about," I asked the bartender. "Any idea what sight they
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might be on? I couldn't find any signs."
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She gave me the "no" that seemed like "I know but I'm not tellin."
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"Said there'd be signs to follow," I tried. "you didn't hear anythin'?"
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"Nuh uh," she said nodding "no" with her head while her hands and eyes
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told me "yes; but don't push it." So, I gave up and went outside which
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was where I saw the two guys driving up. I think they were more scared of
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me than I was of them. Come to think of it, I wonder if they were scared
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other loggers might shoot-first-ask-questions-later regarding their
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ass-oh-see-ate-in' with the likes of me.
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Hunter S. Thompson would've gone back in that bar, drank some wild turkey
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and grapefruit juice, then back in that forest, but then HST carries
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artillery. I don't/won't.
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CONNECTICUT SPRING '97 by Ray Ellis.
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It's spring here in Southern New England
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Last week the hills were mossed with tree-top
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Each tree-top a lacework of delicate green
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or red; a mauve, but alive!
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the greens were set in random patternlets
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across the hilltops in the lower connecticut
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river valley.
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when topping a ridge
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in my car:
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the wind shaped swell-wave
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across the green lacery
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JOURNAL POEM 12 from the selfpublished (150 copies) "I Slurp My Coffee." by
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Marc Harry Ehrenfrucht.
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Our Revolution
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Seventeen seventy six:
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Merely a French coup?
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Dress loud and tip big.
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Waiting for payday for a
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Pepper pizza pie.
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John Waters says he
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Wants to be Walt Disney for
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Peculiar children.
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Vegetarian
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Chili is just perfect for
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Personality.
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Sometimes I put too
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Many haikus in each poem;
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sometimes I do not.
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Banana, cottage cheese, grapefruit,
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Tuna sandwich, homefries and coffee.
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Sleeping too deeply to dream.
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Airborne, infantry, cattle rancher
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Or rodeo clown?
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Woke up one morning
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Wanting to run away and
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Join the circus:
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Then I got in my
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Army uniform and
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Reported for work.
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I'll see that when I
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Believe it. A play on words;
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And also a haiku.
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Easter on the Pearl Street Mall,
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Rich carries a piano on his
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Back. 4 wheel dolly and a
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Shoulder harness.
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Upright piano on the
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Sidewalk for tips.
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--- --- --- --- ---
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That was ATI issue # 82 and I was your host the Prime Anarchist
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As per usual, send all schtuff to ATI c/o
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marco99@juno.com
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a subscription is always phree.
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send
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SUBSCRIBE ATI
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message to:
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listserv@brazerko.com
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