Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Time for a new Artists against Apartheid

  I remember it well. Margaret Thatcher, Ronald Reagan and all the world’s reactionary forces were furious and the very air sizzled and burned before, during and after the event.
  Thirty-one years ago, at Wembley in London the world’s foremost rock musicians performed at a concert in honor of Nelson Mandela and his 70th birthday called Artists against Apartheid. Mandela was still imprisoned at the time. He was released less than two years later, and the South African apartheid-regime disappeared from the government in 1994.
  A similar concert directed at the Israeli apartheid regime is overdue. If many musicians and performers told the Zionist government of Israel to fuck off, many others would dare to do so as well. There might even be a watershed moment where Israel could no longer dictate international politics, and the Palestinians’ freedom and return from exile would be that much closer.
  BDS is important, and has worked well, but it is time to take the fight against the beyond cruel and brutal Zionist regime one step further. Zionist hasbara (propaganda) must be challenged head on.

  A bit of paraphrasing here:
  «Israel is the only country in the world that has apartheid enshrined in its constitution. There is a message from all of us, all of you, from the sons and daughters of Palestine to the Israeli government and establishment that it is time for a change».

  Palestine has many victims and freedom fighters similar to Steven Biko and Nelson Mandela, men, women and children that have been kidnapped, imprisoned, tortured, maimed and killed by the Israeli colonization and occupation regime.

«You can blow out a candle
but you can’t blow out a fire
once the flame begins to catch
the wind will blow it high»
Biko - Peter Gabriel

Thursday, August 08, 2019

page 88 - The Defenseless

  Sample from my novel The Defenseless - Chicago during the protests in August 1968

completely, not even close to completely.
  – We’ve done nothing wrong, Bobby Seale cried. – Nothing but exercising the constitutional right and duty to protest we are given at birth as citizens of a supposedly free country. We have been attacked verbally for months now, through media and from fat politicians seeing their «hard won» positions threatened. And now the oppressors and their eager servants have come full circle, by attempting to break every bone in our body, in last ditch attempts to finally break our spirit. People of all colors, all «creeds» are rising up against injustice, against oppression, all over the world. We are not alone, people. Our brothers and sisters are with us… In short… pick up a gun, pull the spike from the wall, because if you pull it out and you shoot well, all I’m gonna do is pat you on the back and say: Keep on Shooting.
  The Black Panther Chairman held up a fist, and a lot of the people present, black, white, yellow or red did the same.
  – Let’s pay a visit to the fine building over there. David Dellinger bent over the microphone and raised his voice. – Where the decision-makers, the insane makers are having a fit, sweating their heart out. It’s about time.
  Well over a thousand people divided from the main body and followed up on Dellinger’s calling, and joined him on the east sidewalk on Columbus Drive on his way to the hotel. The crowd filled the sidewalk. Not long afterwards the police stopped the march. A man several policemen would later swear was Abbie Hoffman, (in spite of him being in custody at the time) instructed the crowd to disperse into units of five and ten people and then do their utmost to penetrate any shielding, any defense put up by the police or security guards, and generally do as much disruption as possible. Then, the police attacked in force and superior numbers, once more using clubs and teargas grenades. Everything turned red and gray.
  Ted and Linda had sought refuge in an abandoned building south of the park. They were both shaking in rage and turmoil raged inside them.
  She touched his head with a shaking hand.
  – You’re injured, let me…
  – No, no, it isn’t my blood. Believe me, I can tell.

Sunday, March 24, 2019

Author's word - Lewis of Modern York

  The past is with us, wherever we go, no matter how hard we try putting it to rest.
  Yes, we remember places we’ve never been, events we’ve never experienced. We’re taught to forget, no matter how much we need to remember.
  Cities like New York are steeped in memories far older than the cities themselves. They don’t forget, even if its people believe they do.

  I started writing this story in my head more than forty years ago, like I did with all the books in the Janus Clan series. It has evolved a bit, but basically stayed the same. The scenery is basically a result of my visit in 1980, with a few blanks filled in later. My visit to York in England a few years later brought additional scenery to the story. I made the connection easily, in more ways than one. The story practically fledged out itself.
  New York City didn’t really make much of an impact on me, not compared to London and other cities later. Tall, giant spires have never impressed me, but have, on the contrary been a rather bland detail in a major city. Everything truly important, the way I see it, happens on street level, where people breathe and gasp and exist and live.
  I always add something unplanned while I’m writing a given story, mostly details, but also broader strokes, and I did that here as well. I knew where to start. Liz and Ted seek out long lost family members, while dealing with what they can never forget, and in the process meet quite a few people important to their past, present and future.
  The tapestry is painted further with both broad and narrow strokes. We are halfway there, now, and the story pauses a bit, before moving on, gearing up for the end of the long walk. The first ten years or so have been told. The next thirty is waiting just around the corner, in the mist and the shadows far ahead.
  And at the end of the long desert walk… awaits the dragon.

Thursday, March 07, 2019

The Pirate Project - surveillance

 1. All surveillance must be made illegal by law, with strict penalties by a breach. Private companies, groups or individuals shall not do surveillance, either directly or indirectly. States and clandestine services shall not do surveillance, either directly or indirectly. No one shall!

 1a. One single exception is surveillance of hospital bedposts with seriously ill patients

 2. Gathering of information without the explicit permission of a given person shall be illegal. Use of cookies, digital information capsules shall be illegal. A person shall not, in any way be forced to accept any such method when signing a contract, or be forced in any way. If so happens, the contract shall be void and the culprit be subjected to strict penalties.

 3. Information collected illegally shall never be used for anything, either in public or private disputes, or in any context that can harm or possibly harm a given person.

Sunday, March 03, 2019

No more bullshit - The Trenchcoat Brigade - Author’s word

  This is about one of the short stories in my anthology Red Shadow and Other Stories.
  The story stars Timothy Joyce, one of the main characters in my novel Your Own Fate. It is part of the extensive extra material on the website, offering further understanding and perspective of the story.
  It wasn't included in the novel because it’s fairly similar to several other scenes there, and because it didn't quite fit. The story in the book is mostly told from Jeremy Zahn’s perspective.
  This short story about the events on a modern airport would also have to be at least four times longer than the one you have just read. Perhaps I will write the extended version someday.
  Timothy Joyce is a man with no more patience for bullshit, as you can plainly observe and certainly appreciate. If you want to find out more about him, go to the website, or read the book. He certainly would appreciate it.