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Literature has always been revolutionary.
The transmission of ideas through the medium of culture has had a tendency
to bother and disturb the ruling powers. Free expression has
always invited suppression. This is true in our day as it has been
true since the invention of the moveable type- since the development of
the arts. Sometimes sedition has been hidden in the arts,
expressing through euphemism the true thoughts of the creator. Although
often they are quickly decoded and the event is equally as quickly suppressed.
The message though, has been brought across.
This issue
celebrates the revolution that is art, in particular poetry and prose.
While you may not consider your work seditious, someone else may view as
such. Throughout history writers, painters and artists of all stripes
have had the eye of the governing powers studying their work closely.
In some nations, the very fact you have written your ideas down, is an
invitation to arrest and persecution.
Today culture
is being replaced with 'marketing'. Ideas are being condensed or
diluted into commercials. Identity is being replaced with branding.
This is the mainstream; however, on the fringe there is a growing and thriving
culture. A culture of graffiti and the street. The culture
that takes mainstream, modifies and caricatures it to make it an object
of humour or ridicule. Jamming can be invigorating and entertaining.
Keeping up
with the times, maybe we don't draw on walls or canvas, but we can take
the electronic medium as our notebook and our stage. This issue and
hopefully the May issue of "Above Ground Testing" shall be dedicated to
freedom of expression. Consider it a freedom to be cherished and
protected.
The image
on the cover was chosen to represent the idea of revolutionary thought
and the fact that 'poetry can be dangerous'.
Review
"No Logos"-
Naomi Klein
What grabs your attention is the starkness of the cover- black background
with the two words: "No Logos". Naomi Klein has written
a fascinating commentary and documentary on the branding of our culture.
It is a book that will equally depress you and encourage you. This
is a dangerous book in that it may just cause you get off the sidelines
of apathy and actually do something or write something to stop the intrusion
of 'the brand' into daily life.
The book examines how
the brand has integrated itself into our culture and our mindset.
Our culture has been absorbed and changed and its because of companies
such as Tommy Hilfinger, Nike, Wal-Mart have overwhelmed it. Their
desire is to make and leave a mark in all aspects of society and culture.
They wish their brand, not their product to be all that one sees.
The idea of brand is important since these companies no longer produce,
they import. They do not wish to produce; factories are not
their forte, what they want is image. They advertise to produce an
image and sell that image, not a product. The product is secondary.
It exists only to display the logos. These companies wish to make
their brands everywhere. They do wish to invade all parts of the
public, they want to turn the public space into advertisement for them.
This is why they want school endorsements and contracts.
They also exploit our
desire for trends. Many of them, the book records, sends teams into
the inner cities to discover what is 'cool'. They want to know what
becomes cool and they begin to position themselves to absorb the coolness
factor. They also actively solicit inner city youths to make their
brand cool. The reason for this is that they know youth culture has
as its clues, what's happening in the inner city. This holds true
for rap, hip-hop, pagers and anything else which has started in the inner
city. When its popular there, it will make the move to the mall.
What comes through
the pages again and again is the sheer determination these companies have
to be number 1. As well, it is impressive how indifferent these companies
are towards people. Most of these firms run their own line of stores
and to them employees are just tools- their are paid poorly, treated poorly
and they go through considerable turn-over.
Certainly we are familiar
with the sweat-shop scandals. This book examines the facts that all
the companies out source production to third and fourth world countries.
Many of these countries have set aside special economic zones which manufacture
the shoes, sweaters, hats and pants which we wear. While scattered
in many countries, they bear a number of depressing similarities;
all ignore their nations labour standards and get away with it. They
employee young single women, some in their early teens and abuse them.
They are forced to work long hours and in dangerous situations. The
work is mind- numbing. The costs are minimal and the profit for the
multi-nationals is immense. What costs us over $100.00 to buy, cost
about pennies to make, do the math. When the spot-light of public
concern was switched on, many of these companies acted in total ignorance,
at first, to what was going on, claiming they couldn't do a thing.
However many, especially Nike went through a public relations gesture of
concern. However, the situation hasn't changed.
The last section of
the book, "no Logos" is the brightest. While you may get depressed
and wonder what can a person do, the last section tells you what has been
done and can be done. People are fighting back, there are social
action organizations in the special economic zones that are educating the
workers and getting them to fight for their rights.
In the face of the
omnipresent advertisements come guerrilla media reactions, all of which
take the media and mock it, to reveal the true nature of the ads.
People are fighting back. Kids are beginning to realize they are
being played as suckers and dupes to the multi-nationals.
The question is, do
the multi-nationals have to win. Certainly they have the resources but
events such as the McLibel trial in England and the recent events in Seattle
show that if you stand up you can make them back down. They are bullies
and like all bullies don't possess the stomach to fight.
This is a disturbing,
uplifting and thought provoking book. You will read it and be angry.
You will read it and want to burn your Nike shoes. You will read
it and want to paint graffiti on the side of your local Wal-Mart.
You will read it and want to tell others to read it. What I'm trying
to say is, Just Read It!
Poetry
Joshua
died last week.
My
wife’s beloved dog,
Named
after her favorite record,
And
she’s still heartbroken over it.
Me,
I didn’t like the son of a bitch.
Always
digging holes in the yard,
Farting
in the bedroom,
Humping
his teddy bear in the living room.
(See,
Jessica wanted to breed him,
So
Joshua was never fixed.
He
turned out to be a runt
And
we couldn’t use him as a stud,
But
we still never fixed him.)
Joshua
was a thoroughbred German Shepherd,
All
thirty-five pounds of him,
AKC
certified,
A.k.a.
“That fucking dog.”
But
Jessie’s my wife, after all,
And
I have to be sympathetic.
We
buried him in the backyard,
With
full honors and ceremony,
Jessie’s
tears falling on
The
fresh-turned earth.
In
my mind’s eye, though,
I
was dancing on the fresh grave,
Pissing
on it
Just
as Joshua pissed
On
our brand new carpet.
But
I hold her at night
When
she has a fit of grief,
And
I whisper that
He’s
up in Heaven now
(Knowing
full well that
If
there’s a doggy heaven
There’s
got to be a doggy hell,
And
Joshua is burning in its deepest pit.),
And
I hold her
Until
she falls asleep.
45.
I
watched the steam come up off my coffee cup
Remembering
the greasy smoke of burning towns.
The
waitress came to offer me some cake or pie,
I
looked her in the eye and said, “No thank you, dear.”
I
lit a cigarette and blew the smoke away,
Remembering
the dream that wasn’t quite a dream,
Recurring
every night, and sometimes twice or more;
I
mount my chariot and raise my javelin,
Screaming
at the line of warriors across
The
field from me. I ride along their line and shout,
Insulting
them, their clan, their lineage, their wives.
An
enemy approaches me, his patience gone.
We
launch our javelins and close with sword and club.
An
hour, twenty minutes, two, I just don’t know
How
long we fight, but I’m the loser. He takes my head,
He
waves the trophy at his clansmen. Then I wake.
“Yes,
I’ll have another cup of coffee, dear.
Thank
you.” Every night I have a dream like that.
space
first
tumbling
broken ecstasis and
jumbled reactor firing and
speech-laden feeling for economic destinies and
tinseled glory
We elect wrapping
paper
(No spit all polish)
Cellophane
(easily seen
through)
because we don't
know what
could be lurking
in opaque
So we vote the wrapping
paper
of our conscience
(unless there's namesake
in Dad's wrapping
paper)
The only issue is
charisma
(What else?)
A smile, not too
toothy
(we don't want bite)
We don't want policy
just heartfelt bravado
(Oh beautiful
for empty words)
Always fearing
that any more substance
(than a spangled
balloon)
might tip the static
quo
Satan's
Minions
The devil is flanked
by sixty seven thousand
eight hundred two
in-
surance salesmen
'cause only
God can market certainty
I always had that
problem of looking out the window. I was kicked out
of Algebra II
in the 10th grade for it. A few decades later, my cube
has a view of
a pine that gets irritated at the lightest of breezes.
There are passionate
sunsets in the winter. And a constant flux of cars
overtop of 90%
of the asphalt in the valley. They pay me to look out
this window now.
Never underestimate how far your weaknesses will take
you. Sometimes
I look out other windows. I call that poetry.
After bangin
a button box
for the day
it
came time
to check
out
some
new threads
levi strauss
it’s
time
to
hit the local brasserie
grab a pint or two
sing mean woman blues
don’t let me spoil
the jute joint foil
atmosphere of your scene folks
tonight’s my free ticket
my freedom pass
to
slip through
bar style doors
…
enter
act one
tall cool man
khakis to match my
camouflaged heart of stone
a
panther on the prowl
slinkin round my optimistic view
how goes it
says he
not in question
of me
pausing eyes
to
interrogate
my female disposition
I
passed a terminal look his way
na, na
but that didn’t sway
this suave predator
with the Jack Daniel
belt buckle
catchin my eye
what say we
split the scene
to greener pastures?
mister Jack lay
heavy on his breath
but not one sway of imbalance
did I detect
and felt as if this meeting
was not by chance
somehow
now
as if I knew him
from a past life
if ya catch my drift?
"The New Convergence"
We're
supposedly seeing the triumph of the new economy over the old. The
paradigm has shifted into the brand new world of high-tech, e-comm and
telecom. AOL has absorbed Time Warner. Here in Canada, Bell
Canada is poised to swallow CTV and with it the many specialty channels
that CTV owns. Communication companies want to transform themselves
into information companies, they want to create not only new ways to communicate,
but supply the medium that is to be carried. Content has become important.
Mind you, content has always been important, the internet exists because
of content. People are busy expressing themselves through this new
medium. However, all these new players are coming along with the
sole purpose of turning the internet into a new means of communication.
What they want is to turn the net into- ready?- television. Yes,
this is the future as seen by AOL-Times-Warner. They want to control
the medium and take over the culture. They want the Net to be the
new method of advertising their stuff. These culture mavens want
to take this noisy, messy and anarchistic medium and turn it into the funnel
by which their bland marketing is driven further down our throats.
They want to communicate what they want to communicate. They promise
the powers that be a safe internet. Safe for them, boring for us.
What the new culture oligarchy wants is for you
not to have any place in the new game. If they can't control it,
they want it removed. They bought the game, now they want to make the rules.
Only their registered and trademarked shit will be available for viewing
on the internet. Before they shut the portals, we must stand up and
give them the new message- take your crap and shove it!!!. Take your
electronically 'gated communities' and disappear into the ether.
When we want their brand of fascism, we'll let them know.
In case they missed it, the new convergence has
arrived. Its people taking advantage of the marvelous communication
that is the internet and communicating. It people with a simple program
creating culture. Maybe its not reaching millions of people, but
who cares, since when does blips on somebody's Neilsen rating determine
what is or isn't culture. Culture is expanding and its delightful
to see. Perhaps what we should do is do a "Seattle" on AOL.
Let them know the 'Net is already alive and prospering, without them.
Ultimately its about control, and guess what,
they can't control it. Even here in Canada, our valiant cultural
watchdogs, the CRTC has acknowledged they can't govern or regulate the
Internet. If this anal retentive body of regulators admit to not
controlling it, then it can't be controlled. I understand and appreciate
the commercial potential of the Internet, there's nothing wrong with people
making money, if I could figure it out, I would join them. However,
it can't be bought.
The new convergence is this, you making
your web pages and filling up the bandwidth with your culture, and not,
for one moment, giving ground to these parasites.
I should now conclude this issue. Thanks to everyone who submitted work and suggestions for this issue. I do want to remind you that this is a quarterly ezine, so the next issue will be available some time in July- I think. Keep writing and making poetry, its important for your voice to be heard.
This issue is copyright 2000. All
work within is copyright by the various authors.