Just Saying No
…so much no.
Just Saying No
…so much no.
It’s been 50 years ago since Dr. King’s “I have a dream” speech. I look forward to celebrating, reflecting and connecting with fellow dreamers and agitators at the event. If you are a poet in the area, contact me. I’d like to organize a Poets for Change reading.
Music & March meet at Terry Schrunk Plaza. We will March to South Waterfront Park
|Join us as we honor the spirit of the historic 1963 March on Washington and begin the work of the next 50 years for equality in America!
Celebrate! Educate! Demonstrate
Sponsored by Albina Ministerial Alliance Coalition for Justice & Police Reform, Urban League of Portland, NAACP of Portland, ACLU of Portland, Ecumenical Ministries of Oregon, and several labor and other community based organizations.
Ironically the same issues that compelled the first March, jobs, police brutality, housing, health care, equality are the same pressing issues of today.
Rally, Speakers & Music starts at 1PM @ South Waterfront Park
Two monkeys were paid unequally. What did you think would happen?
So one of my lovers pointed me to this terrific new genre that its authors are calling Dragonpunk.
Dragonpunk aims to do to the Middle Ages–to renn faire, to the SCA, to all the medievalism in pop culture–what steampunk did to neo-Victorianism. With dragonpunk, we challenge medievalist fantasy to liberate itself from the bounds of history and trope and from the rigid assumptions of what a modern subculture can and cannot do.
I searched about their website looking for bios on publishers/editors Margaret Killjoy and Caelyn Rosch. Under “about us” I found this delicious teaser.
Combustion books is a collectively-run publisher of dangerous fiction. We specialize in genre stories that confront, subvert, or rudely ignore the dominant paradigm and we’re not afraid to get our hands dirty or our houses raided by the government. How many fiction publishers can promise you that?
Rejecting the dominant paradigm doesn’t end with the stories we tell. We operate without bosses and we pay ourselves and our authors outright for work in order to keep us from getting mired in the world of profit-driven publishing.
One of our goals is to break down the hierarchy of the publishing world and develop relationships with our authors and audience that go beyond those offered by a traditional press.
Check out the call for submissions. One fiction to unrule them all.
Dragonpunk is high fantasy set on its head. Dragonpunk isn’t the princess who slays the dragon without waiting for her prince–it’s the washerwoman who drips poison into the cruel queen’s chalice to end her rule. Dragonpunk is found in the band of orphans playing Robin Hood, in the villagers and the druids in the woods reclaiming their sacred groves from the woodsman sent by the crown.
Dragonpunk can be chivalrous, though always without lords. When dragonpunk is chivalrous it is a shield for the weak regardless of their sex or gender, and it is loyal to its peers instead of the king. When dragonpunk isn’t chivalrous, it fights dirty, and it never backs down. And sometimes, dragonpunk has no use for fighting at all, because there are as many things in this world worth building as there are worth fighting.
Dragonpunk aims to do to the Middle Ages–to renn faire, to the SCA, to all the medievalism in pop culture–what steampunk did to neo-Victorianism. With dragonpunk, we challenge medievalist fantasy to liberate itself from the bounds of history and trope and from the rigid assumptions of what a modern subculture can and cannot do. But this is only the most humble of our goals.
Dragonpunk takes its inspiration from a past that never was to wage war on the banality of the present. With dragonpunk, we demand the right to be whom we want to be at any time of day or night, to dress as we’d like and live how we’d like. To free ourselves from a modernity that bores us. We want permaculture gardens to creep up the stone walls of our modern keeps. We will rewild empty stripmalls and turn the vacant lots of our post-industrial world into the new commons.
We are the new adventurers. We’re punks who were inspired when the Riders of Rohan chanted “death, death, death,” and charged into the forces of fascism, when Frodo set off to destroy the very idea of power over one another. We’re organizers who murmur the St. Crispin’s Day speech as we prepare to stand against authority. We’re hedge knights and armorers and tailors, brewers and bards and witches.
Or maybe we’re just nerds who like chainmail and books about dragons. That’s okay with us too.
We’re looking to put out an anthology of dragonpunk fiction, essays, how-tos, interviews, art, and more, edited by Caelyn Rosch and Margaret Killjoy. Examples of what we’d be looking for would include, but are absolutely not limited to:
The tentative deadline for submissions is May 15th, 2013. Reasonable article/fiction lengths are approximately 400-6,000 words. The pay is very likely to be nothing but contributor’s copies. (We editors won’t pay ourselves either, unless we are paying all the contributors.)
Submissions and further inquiries can be directed to Margaret Killjoy at firstname.lastname@example.org.
I liberated it this from the Emma Goldman Papers.
excerpts from the article:
by Alix Kates Shulman
[Published in Women’s Review of Books, Vol. IX, no. 3, December 1991.]“If I can’t dance I don’t want to be in your revolution,” said Emma Goldman (1869-1940), feminist heroine, anarchist activist, editor, writer, teacher, jailbird and general trouble-maker.
Or did she? Perhaps she said, “If I can’t dance I don’t want to be part of your revolution,” as my purple T-shirt claims under a picture of Emma looking demure in a wide-brimmed hat. Or was it rather, “If I can’t dance to it, it’s not my revolution,” as the quote appears in a 1983 “non-sexist yet traditional” Passover Haggadah?
In fact, though the sentiment is indeed Emma Goldman’s, one she frequently pronounced and acted upon, she wrote none of the above, notwithstanding that each of these versions and more has been attributed to her on buttons, posters, banners, T-shirts, bumper stickers, and in books and articles, for nearly twenty years. Here, rather, is what she did say, in her 1931 autobiography Living My Life:
At the dances I was one of the most untiring and gayest. One evening a cousin of Sasha [Alexander Berkman], a young boy, took me aside. With a grave face, as if he were about to announce the death of a dear comrade, he whispered to me that it did not behoove an agitator to dance. Certainly not with such reckless abandon, anyway. It was undignified for one who was on the way to become a force in the anarchist movement. My frivolity would only hurt the Cause.
I grew furious at the impudent interference of the boy. I told him to mind his own business, I was tired of having the Cause constantly thrown into my face. I did not believe that a Cause which stood for a beautiful ideal, for anarchism, for release and freedom from conventions and prejudice, should demand the denial of life and joy. I insisted that our Cause could not expect me to become a nun and that the movement should not be turned into a cloister. If it meant that, I did not want it. “I want freedom, the right to self-expression, everyboy’s right to beautiful, radiant things.” Anarchism meant that to me, and I would live it in spite of the whole world–prisons, persecution, everything. Yes, even in spite of the condemnation of my own comrades I would live my beautiful ideal. [Living My Life (New York: Knopf, 1934), p. 56]