S&L #76 Summer 2003
This all go, no sleep routine is starting to take it’s toll. You can only push yourself for so long before you start to crash. But that isn’t stopping me yet. This issue has been put together in a frenzy of faster and stricter deadlines that usual. The goal behind that being to get this issue done, and back from print, before heading to the west coast for a 2 week jaunt between Portland and San Francisco. Pulling together an issue, is always a grueling task. Dragging columns, reviews, and ads out of people. Being a tor
Underneath the Wild Garden Waits to Grow
here’s a story that you may not comprehend,
but the parking lots will crack and bloom again.
There’s a world beneath the pavement that will never end.
Seeds are lying dormant and will never end.
if you listen you can hear the sound of birds,
hear their song above the chaos, hear their words.
Listen to their love songs, it will never end.
If you listen you can hear.
The summer solstice is a consistent and perpetual harbinger of change. The days lengthen and the nights diminish. The natural lubricants of the forest desiccate as the dark woods anxiously lie in wait for the coming orgies of fire that will reset a hundred years of ecological imbalance. The anadromous fish are returning to their homelands to fuck, spawn and lay the roots for future generations.
There are a lot of issues related to reproductive rights that sometimes I don’t know where to start when writing about it. I don’t like trying to write about just one perspective. But then again I don’t have enough experience to write a book. So for the purposes of this article, I’ll try to just throw out some ideas that I hope interested folks will find more specific information about. I have been seeing more and more zines about women’s issues, from fertility awareness to herbal abortion, and they all have the heart
Two memories really stand out when I think about writing this column:
Confrontation in activism it’s something that never used to be a concern for me. I didn’t question my relentless, overbearing confrontation with people. At protests I was one off the loudest and most aggressive. I converted my anger with fur wearers, SUV drivers, meat eaters, circus patrons and rodeo fans into a penetrating voice that didn’t quit. After all, silence is acceptance.
In the early months of 1999, six of us in our early to middle twenties began talking and planning for going in together on the formation of an anarchist inspired collective household. For those of you in the East Bay or West Philadelphia you may be saying yeah so what’s the big deal about that? We’ve got twenty such places, some decades old. Well, things don’t move fast for anything here and what we were aiming to do was to lay the seeds for the first such modern household of this variety in Richmond.
“Bring it on,” says our fearless leader, George W. Bush. “Bring it on,” he tells the Iraqi resistance that’s been targeting American soldiers. Aren’t we lucky to have such a brave and heroic leader? Never mind that he’s on the other side of the world, safe from harms way. Never mind that he doesn’t have to live with the ramifications of his macho boasting. Never mind that this fearless warrior not only hid in the Texas air National Guard to avoid being sent to Vietnam himself but then went A.W.O.L. for two years.
I was going to write Chris an email and tell her I couldn’t make it this time. I didn’t feel bad about that, as I have been making deadline for my column for a while now. So, it’s OK to take off once in a blue moon.