tribal wish homepage
other pages:
Preserving Anarchy: Sovereign Citizen: Political Turmoil: Landuse at Gunpoint:
Letters to DeFazio:Letter to a Sovereign: federal taxation: Marijuana License:
Definitions of Communism: Bad Sovereignty: Sovereign Citizen Legal Paperwork:
Declaration of Land Patent:
Morality: Bitch: Against Marriage: To the Feminists: My Own Sanity:
Social Root of Corruption: In Response to Mr. Kaczinski: Heartsong Voyeur:
Answering Mr.Quinn: School Abhorance: Overview of Fun: $700Billion Bailout:
Zeitgeist: Money: Duty to Humanity: Underdog Religion: Philosophy:
Adrian's Diploma: Dreamtime Religion: Predatory People:
Non-HIV AIDS: Sewage: A Study of Aliens: Pictures of Crop Circles:
BASIC files: Photos of Myself: 2ndlife: YouTube Videos: Isaac's Video:
House: New constuction: Neighbors: Making Trouble: Being Cool
This webpage is a record of my deliberate effort to create, for myself,
a feeling of life meaning; some sort of pattern of life expression that
doesn't have that feeling of killing time. I'm also shy of what I call a
mechanical illusion or a scapegoat. I really want to be actually not
killing time. With any luck the page may become a place to find links to
the similiar stories of others.
I have an interest in embracing sovereign citizenship and anarchy
without having to relate harshly to other peoples' socialist values. For me
sovereignty has been a bit alienating. America looks to me like a huge
corporate day care center pretending to be a society, and my spirit is not
with that. I seem to have become to a minor degree a source of hurt feelings
and confusion for people who have found real meaning in a regular commercial
social environment. I think of this website as partly a wrestle with that.
Here is a story from me. My fantasy, for myself, is to settle sanely
and goodheartedly in the town where I grew up. Here all my random hysteria
has traceable triggers and my personal majesty has the longest historical
development. My expectations reach their zenith of unreasonableness but my
peace reaches the greatest depth.
In my old age I have determined that all genuine meaning for me is a
blessing that arises only from trustable concrete friendship, as opposed to
definable activity; what I call a form of tribal fantasy, but what others
call a gang without even pretense of morals. I agree that in general only
fairly unrighteous people have shown a clear openness to what I describe.
But I have been heartbroken too many times by the appearance of fidelity
that agreement creates, so scorn conceptual compromise and the shared
projects that result from it. My long term ideal is to live among some
people in this city who are physically together almost all the time, and yet
not tied together by a house or a creed and involved very little in gainful
activity as a group. Many members would privately own a house and much
equipment as I do. None, though, would ever share mechanistic ego expression
with the group except as a host with guests. Earning and spending money,
sexuality, stockpiling of food and all other activities that provoke
hysteria and jeolosy would be engaged solitary and, on my part, minimized;
the group drama would involve these only to the degree that the vibe stays
hopeful, and never ever as a matter of importance. The group would all
sleep in one area or room with the owner member's completely revokable
invitation.
My present society in America meets all these criteria except the overt
recognition and honoring of the situation. I am pressed by my friends to
engage severe drug use or forced verbal agreement or both; to ease their
worry or jeolosy feelings. I refuse. I need my mind to be clear and my love
to be undisquised, at least to myself.
While the computer appears worthless for making actual friendship,
it has proved to be a huge source of inspiring ideas. This page is to
feed the fire and inspire me to edit my irrationality.
Possession of wealth and power appear to bring only novelty at the
cost of senseless stress so neither has ever seemed promising in my life.
Also, the privileges of corporate citizenship have been a major compromise
of my manly dignity. I need my rewards and encouragement to be a direct
result of my nobility of character rather than the condition of my
paperwork. I also need to have no confusion about the police being an
occupying army. Too many times I have spontaneously and innocently
reached out to an officer for directions or assistance and had them
brutally ruin my life for a time. I need to recognize and honor the
actual job they have taken on, stomping the spirits of juvenile delinquents
(of all ages). Having lived in a very personal way with the delinquents
I am undecided which is the greater evil, but I need to stay aware of the
fire fight.
I read several internet accounts of tragic disaster resulting from
innocent citizens defending their personal dignity with a display of
machisimo. They were brutally murdered or seriously injured by police.
I concluded that all the participants were deranged. In my imagination,
if one spooks a hornet's nest, righteousness plays no part in the result.
In spite of the IRS and the public imagination, I don't view a corporation
as a form of intelligent life. I see them, private or public, like a
computer; very effective at technical results but worthless as a civic
leader. I seriously doubt that the founding fathers ever intended the
central government to be a source of moral leadership; I think they assumed
the opposite,that all the people pleading for federal integrity are pissing
into the wind. I have only clearly observed moral leadership as a product
of noneconomic sentimentality, influencing the big scale only indirectly.
The problem of tyranical police senselessly injuring or killing harmless
Citizens was much worse in the remote past and still is in the third world.
I hold everyone responsible to recognize the genuine terror felt by the
often youthful officers faced with entirely cool-headed armed people whose
home they are illegally invading at the command of their superior officers.
I was once woke up by the belligerent voice of a young officer demanding
that I put my hands where he could see them, his revolver pointed at me,
held in both his hands, shaking like a leaf. He held this terrible pose for
several minutes til his backup officer drove up and came right up to me like
I was no threat at all.
These were city police on worthless land outside the City. That federal
police are sometimes just as harsh, panicky and out of their jurisdiction
is, to me, not to be wondered at or a basis for conspiracy theory. The
public I have spoken with in my town promotes the present constutional
violations related to drugs, taxes and motor vehicles. So I don't consider
the public to be unaware; those I've discussed this with gave no indication
of naivette and may be rationally construed as a national security threat to
American liberty. I think even the CIA is a symptom not a root cause of
this. Government service would be a hopelessly depressing job for me so I am
loathe to judge those who are willing to take part in managing the preschool
that America appears to me to be.
Armed resistance to the U.S. government looks a bit ridiculous to me
also. Government corruption that supposedly warrants it requires very
sophisticated investigation for a citizen to even see it at all, as opposed
to Mexico, Brazil, Cambodia or Irag where reports I've heard or read
involve no subtlety. My assessment is that the American governments are
very representative of genuine public sentiment in spending, taxing, law
enforcement, and their concern for providing quality service to the public;
I take my trouble with the government as a warning of how potentially mean
my neighbors are.
The apparatus in my life makes for a story.
Whatever I need I bang together. What is quick is a hobby, what takes
a while is a chore and generally a mistake in my life. I have decided
that whenever nature deters me it is friendly advice, to ignore
only after long meditation. My life is for art, either theatric or
physical and art has been the glue of my society. A need for a certain
result poisons my artistic spunk so I keep my criteria as primitive as
possible.
I use a very comfortable homemade reclining bicycle when I'm in no
mood to walk. I use a small handcart for large grocery loads and
attachments to the bicycle for serious matters. The bicycle is front
wheel drive so it converts pretty easily to a huge tricycle that I've
had about 500 pounds on a couple times. Recently I added an electric
assist that the police and the DMV have shrugged me off about. The
motor is a motorcycle starter driving the rear wheel through a bicycle
chain and powered by a regular 12 volt car battery. It survives well
20 miles on a charge and makes me as strong as two fellows. My city is
very easy and safe for bicycles. The bicycle is made of three tenspeed
frames hacksawed and bolted together entirely with common bicycle parts
(no welding) and weighs 45 pounds without the electric assist. It cost
about $150 in parts, mainly for the superlight wheels, and required one
day to build, initially. I have several other bicycles also, for other
moods; one that's completely normal, for when I'm shy.
00 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^ OOOO ^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^^ OOOOOO ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ OOOOOOO ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ OOOOOOO ``'`'`'`'`''`` `''`'`'`'`'`'' `'`'`'`''`'`'` `'`''`//\\'`'' `'`'// _ \\`' `'// |_| \\ //|----------|\\_____ /\ ' | |^^^^^^|| | ' //\\ .. ` | |______|| | ' ///\\ ::::: ' | |h | ` ////\\\ ::::::: ' ===================' ////|\\\\ :::::::::: ' = = === ////|\\\\ :::::::::::..` = = ===.................|||.....____________ :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::-- - - - - - I lived in basements, in the local woods and on the street for many many years. It became my identity but it was too socially unstable; a tramp has to be sly too much and too subtle. Friendship cries for arrogance; expressions of pride, an old woman called it. I got full time work through a temporary agency and a pager and in a total about face of identity stuck with it for the two years required, at $5 an hour, to afford a vacant lot in town and a house move. I made a big effort to move my sister into a nearby cheap house and got to know the neighbors, mostly through their kids or their household maintenance. I loaded the house with roommates and managed to avoid having rules by doing my best to cooperate with each person's assumptions about me. The house is small and almost no-one with real options wants to live intimately, especially without a real room of their own, so I have seen a great many desperate souls. In offering a low rent place to live I have ended up living with a great many participants in the drug culture. I have arrived at the view that all mood or mind altering substances tend to block a person's ability to genuinely perceive their influence on others and thus renders them a jerk. That this view is generally expressed by one jerk about another does not, to me, make the complaint less of a genuine concern. The love at my house has been often overt but always predatory, similiar to the fondness expressed by a two year old. That has been a quandary for real, especially when the contradiction inspires violence in one of us or the complete loss of the diplomatic open-mindedness that concensus requires. I am frequently commanded to referee, generally by those with the least willingness to respect the authority paradigm that their demand evokes. If at all possible I reject a command that I play the part of governor. I am convinced that there can be no heart behind such a command. But if someone makes a sincerely friendly plea for me to take that role, I often can guide a fairly benevolent sort of melodrama about household maintenance. To me this is the root of government and a basis for a positive regard for established authorities. Every person I've gotten intimate with has what I call immature aspects that force me to maintain some minor degree of formality with them to prevent their trespass but I don't take this to be a reason to have no intimacies or to completely forsake what I see as the inescapable drama between strangers sharing an area. I am fond of a wild looking yard and the creative use of garbage but several of my neighbors aren't. Some of them express some real disheartenment about it, so I imagine I'm contributing to the infighting spirit that occasionally gets refereed by the police or the building department or the public utility. The area I live in meets my concept of white trash so I think of it as a real test of minimizing government. I haven't had any house meetings at my house or been to the neighborhood group. I think that that approach evokes even more sour vibes than chaos does. As I write this, four of my roommates are petty theives and two of them are turning against me because I refuse to aid maintaining a drug supply. A building official once told me he had been getting one call a week from the couple across the street about me violating the code one way or another, though almost never over something he felt compelled to act on. The same couple has the most brutal fights in the neighborhood. He's been arrested several times for that, but hearing her senseless painful screaming arguments and seeing her pointing a gun a couple of times I'm not her advocate. I see the big scale government as being a response to issues like these, but on the more formal level of complete strangers. I find the big scale very hard to assess accurately because I depend so much on second hand and often seriously misleading reports about generalities. I spent six months as a co-leader of a political group resisting nuclear weapons development and saw a lot intense bigotry in the group; enough to drive me out and decide that, since all my evidence was from suspect sources, the weapons might even be the lesser evil, a melodramatic gesture with a better heart. So the limit of my clarity looks to me to be solely within the realm of deciding the governing or dramatic initiative I will create. I'll call that the topic of this website. from: Eric Michener c/o wolfe@efn.org Back to the top of the page