- Lockheed 52
- The Age of Information
- Amma (my mommy)
- Acchan (my daddy)
- Corporate Watchdaaawwgs
- We Players Theater
Where I'm At, possibly
Take the Red Pill
- News San Frontieres
- Bay Area Indymedia
- Truth Out
- Take Back the Media
- Open Secrets
- Observatoire Francais des Medias
Take a Chill Pill
Kindred Kind Souls
I had to use the r-word because that's what I believe in. The word can scare, it can alienate. I want to define my version of it, so it doesn't scare or alienate, and if it still does, tough shit. This is my blog, and my world. The only rule I'm giving myself is that I have to use the word revolution at least once in every blog. And I've already broken that one.
Wednesday, September 24, 2003
I biked up the golden and green hills today with songs on my tongue and sweat on my brow. Ran into friends even in an unfamiliar location, pleasantly. Lunched and laughed with them. Headed to class, but Lady Luck wasn't so keen on me going, she sent me some administrators that were less on top of it than more. Responsi Bill got me there just in time to catch the last five minutes. Walked in tandem with another set of free friends towards my bike, which dragged me once more on the road, this time cruising downhill with my arms crossed and my back straight and my head wise.
Stopped at the Alumni Cafe and Touch of Grey on the way home. hi Shannon, hi Tarek, hi Caroline,
Home. Brief nap.
And in other news today, a houseful of youngsters headed out towards Shoreline Amphitheater to join others in search of painful beautiful beated notes and lighted colors. They passed out shiny pieces of propaganda to tell people why they should vote no on Proposition 54. They proceeded to go in the amphitheater and stand for hours entranced by the truly multimedia spectacle that was Radiohead. Afterwards they rolled down hills and headed out to walk past metal boxes full of fans to their own metal box headed to their beds. Onlookers say they were pleased to have such "connoisseurs of the joys of life" at the event.
Are you a California registered voter? Do you know about prop 54? Oh you do, oh youre going to vote against it, that's great, would you be interested in taking this flyer to give to someone you know? (or.) Oh, you don't give a crap, ok, that's fine, I'll leave you alone but you best feel guilty about it because i'm being damn nice to you in spite of your stupidity.
The website for the day is www.blogger.com. finally skimmed the website a few days ago. blown away. they have such a cute non-corporate way of operating, from what i can tell, and are almost solely concerned with bringing people togethe for. breath of fresh air. it reminds me where technology is going and extraordinary people's brains must be to keep coming up with new cyberbaby creations. progress. let's be progressive.
I progress to sleep, where hopefully Ward Connelly, Issa, Bush, Schwartzenager, and all, can never reach me. But you can.
Sunday, September 21, 2003
She took a sip of her pearl milk tea. Her sip slurped ice, nothin but ice. Sipped again. Same as the first time. Nada, Jack crap, but she had to check again. El bebido del Diablo. It was a serious weakness.
As she twigged to the Fugees rhyming bout revolutin
and swigged from the ambrosia of those that actually did the lootin
she felt her guts go through her feet with guilt bout turnin her back, gettin whack on the Word of Da Peeples.
Da Peeples were the opposite of the Popples. They were, definitely, the opposite of hot pink fuzzy balls of Goodness. They worshipped Satan merely because he was the opposite of Christ, he was an Anarchrist. They liked Anarchrists.
She was only half Peeple. Half Idean. Lived in Ide most her life. She had grown up with Idean bougiehabits like pearl milk tea. She tried but she couldn't get rid of all of them herself. This one stuck like the sticky tapioca balls it was made with.
She had come to the Peeples of Da to ask permission to wash the sticky shit off her in the river that flowed through the Free Dome of Da.
It is no longer Saturday. It's now Sunday, September 21. Happy International Peace Day.
Saturday, September 20, 2003
i hope the Kuc event goes well tomorrow. two things are at stake. well, not at stake, because it's not really like we're risking anything, but there are two causes that i hope the event does justice to. one is Kuc, obviously. i'm not gonna be pushing for the fundraising thing, though i guess it would be a good idea, but mainly i want the info to get out, (and get in, i honestly dont know that much about him) and the discussion to get fired up. the second cause, less obvious for the event, is bay leaf. i rreeally really want this place to succeed. and i want it to transform into a jumpin jivin revolutionary hotspot. but first, i just want business to pick up so ravi and cindy dont have to be losing money on it anymore. it feels weird, capitalist or something, to want more business, but i guess its not, because i want the folks who go and blow hundreds in restaurants like il fornio's and nola's to come in and spend that money on good healthful justiceful food at bay leaf instead. the people who are cooking and eating at home, rock on and stay there.
holding a discussion on the elections and a presidential candidate, when its described like that, doesnt sound so appealing. it doesnt have the romance that initially drew me to anarchy, but its righteous.
just like its righteous to know about all these whack acts coming out or have come out. PATRIOT act. prop 54. Clear Act, Victory act. i dont know what those last two are.
the website for the day is buzzflash.com. they have a link to the lockheed 52 website, so they automatically rock, but they rock on their own merit too.
Thursday, September 18, 2003
this time the reason i came back was that my blog had a negative edge to it. i didn't want to go to sleep on that. i wanted to go to sleep on thoughts of the flyer that we made today for the kucinich discussion event on sunday. who says the youth are apathetic? thoughts of my day at bay leaf where i served and ate globally just food in a non-hierarchical, an almost anarchical setting. thoughts of the idealistic and committed performance by the sophomore college social protest theater class that lashed out in artistic expression against the Prop 54 that threatens to take away their identity. thoughts of the culture jammer video we watched in awe, awakening, cleansed from the smooth flow of mass-produced brainwashing detergent. and my entire body learned more about how to cook, how to use html, how to talk, how to listen, how to watch theater, how to reach people, including myself, and using the very tools that are also used/use themselves to subjugate, instead to free them.
People will never be free without information about themselves and the world around them.
Stop suffocating yourself in the sand. Pull your head out of it. Straighten up, let the blood rush back from the dust clouds in your head, into your feet so they can kick down the walls of the invisible fortress that imprisons you in the desert of the Real. Shake out your head so the grains of mistruth tumble out exposed, hit oxygen and explode into the flow of an oasis that exists because you think it. Drink, drink like never before, until you feel rather like a glass of water, drunk, that is, pleasantly drunk with life.
42. Always 42. Take 42 red pills and call me in the morning when you
Whoops, i just got too abstract there, I tired out. That's what I like to call nonsense: abstract. You either get it or you don't, and chances are you don't, and neither do I. I've spent so long trying to fit pretty words together i've forgotten what they mean.
I wanted to write down the experiences of my day but there's just too many thoughts in my head that they all intertwine and trip each other up. I can picture it up there. My thoughts running around in the empty space in my head wearing different hats that all blind them in some way or other, so they bump and trip and all fall down. By the time i'm ready to type something specific, you know, with, like, a goal, a purpose, and stuff, they (my thoughts) are too dillydamn tired to get up from their heap at the bottom of my mind. Eventually, they crawl up like tropical bugs into my eyelids, dragging my eyes shut in analytical buffoonery. Is that how you spell buffoonery?
I had a reasonably revolutionary day, i learnt so much. Well, mehch (no, that's not a typo, that's a sound), i should have meditated first, that would have made the day in rhythm, and if ya got rhythm ya gotta be revolutionary. But i didn't and that's that. Maybe tomorrow.
I woke up and eventually sat down bleary, exasperated, in front of Shannon's computer, where I am now. Email. Piles and piles of email. You know? Those little columns on your everflattening screen on your computing machine that are units of communication from all over the world? There was a lot of information in those emails. A lot of that information was kajunk, or at least my kajunk, but hey, ka-trash, ka-treasure, who's to say, so the saying goes, right? So there was a lot of information, so I'm sure I must have learnt something. I can remember what it was, because i dont remember which emails i read, so thats not very convincing, is it.
Well I would move on the next learning activity but I'm a bit sleepy so I'm going to take a nap. learning be damned, i've got to rest my brain or it will explode.
I'm not crossing a lot of things off my to-do list and it keeps getting longer.
(really 9 in the morning but comes out in the evening)
Wednesday, September 17, 2003
Aaaaah friends. friends are good. friendSTER is a little weird. but it's a tool that might turn out to be beautifully revolutionary. just like this one.
blogs. publishing the people for free. information can be exchanged for free. Have you heard of the Freedom of Information Act?
The Story of the Freed Ideas.
Everybody thought the writer's bloc came from No Ide. It actually came from Toomany Ide where the little people that call themselves Ideas. They bounced around everywhere like jellyfish in a jumpin bean.
I had been thinking about it for a while, and then when I checked out Micha's blog I was excited, but I couldn't get it for free so I was all, boo, ok, I"m too lazy to go pro-active about looking for free blogging. Actually, I did go online, but I couldn't find one immediately so I gave up.
Then today, just as I was about to start a home-made email blog, using Amma and Acchan as recipients (I always like writing TO someone, especially if it's email), I decided to check it out one last time. Typed in blog and what do you know, one of the first entries is free blogging. Nice.
So sign up, did I.
It's ad sponsored. Have dillema, do I.
Crap. To not be ad-sponsored I would have to pay a measly $15 a year, or something like that, and the money would probably go to gentle computer freak types of the sort I'm even friends with, so where's the harm in that? But nope, I caved and signed up to be a product pimp. Haven't seen any ads yet, but they're around somewhere, I'm sure.
So that's a great start to my blog about revolution, huh?
Oh, that's right. I said I was going to define my version of revolution. Well, unfortunately, no-one can be (small but heavy pause) told what the revolution is. You have to see it for yourself.