|d*i*s*c*o*n*t*e*n*t*s|

Beforeword [page five] Dear Reader [page eight] A Glass of Rx and the Seductive Blur [page fifteen] Halls [page twenty-two] Hundred-Dollar Eye Drops [page fourteen] Interior, Exterior [page twenty-five] Mad Moon" [page twenty-eight] Memory Box [page twenty-nine] Religion at the Recycling Center [page twenty]

Scalloped Blotches [page twenty-six] Slush Along The Interstate [page thirty-one] Sputnik [page twenty-four] Sometimes I See Kelly Everywhere [page sixteen] The Session [page eighteen] Three Beers and a Bottle of Wine [page thirty-two] White House Yard Sale [page thirteen] Practical Subversion II & III [page thirty-four] Our Needs [page thirty-eight] Distationary I [page forty-four]

BEFOREWORD:
Baltimore | Anarchist | Network

objectives & principles

I. (a) DISCLAIMER

The purpose of the Baltimore Anarchist Network (B. A. N.) is, at all times and throughout all its attributed activities, to be decided by its active participants. These recorded objectives were originally written and decided on by a small group of anarchists. At any time they may be abolished, rewritten, reappropriated, or ignored by individuals and groups who feel constricted by them. As with any libertarian words, these are not to be confused with rules. If anything they are but guidelines to keep affiliates conscious of this associations original thinking and purpose. Please note that any revolutionary act taking place in Baltimore may or may not be attributed to the B. A. N., as it does and should not actually exist. In the tradition of the Earth Liberation Front, the Animal Liberation Front, Washington DCs BORF grafitti movement, CrimethInc., and other fine resistance monikers, we shall remain unstoppable and victorious in that we will never die, though we intend to multiply. The loss of one person or one group of persons to jail, murder, or a change in plans will not be enough to even slow us down. For this reason our captive oppressors should feel threatened, though we are not responsible for how others feel about us. We are merely responsible for changing the world beginning with Here, starting Now.

I. (b) OBJECTIVES

To construct a radically democratic and alternative infrastructure as evidence of how ineffectually useless Capitalism and the State tend to be; to build on and set concrete examples for and by our sisters and brothers elsewhere; to individually network via/with all anarchists of all focuses throughout Baltimore City and Baltimore County, Maryland; to overthrow the insufferable and diabolically boring state of affairs (naturally), if only locally.

II. PRINCIPLES 1. THAT WHICH DOES NOT SERVE HUMANITY DOES SERVE ITSELF. 2. DOMINATION IS DOMINATION. AUTHORITY IS AUTHORITY. DESPOTISM IS DESPOTISM. HIERARCHY IS HIERARCHY. WE BELIEVE THAT NONE OF THE AFOREMETIONED ARE EXUSABLE OR NECESSARY FOR HEALTHY DEMOCRACY. 3. ANARCHY IS DEMOCRACY WITHOUT GOVERNANCE. WE PREFER LIBERTY AND RESPECT OVER GOVERNMENT AND CAPITALISM. 4. A NEW WORLD IS FEASABLE, REASONABLE. REVOLUTION IS FOREVER, IS POSSIBLE AND WORTH WORKING TOWARD.

5. EVERY THING EXISTS FOR EVERY PERSON.

6. PROPERTY IS THEFT. 6a. Personal and private property are separate, subjective concepts. We do not respect exploitation, thus much of the old worlds private property is senseless to us and we make no effort to heed its bounds. 7. WE SHALL ALWAYS CONTRIBUTE TO THE COMMON BOUNTY. WE SHALL ALWAYS PARTAKE OF OUR HARVEST. 8. LANGUAGE IS A MEANS OF PERCEPTION, OF INTERPRETING ACTION, AND OF COMMUNICATION. WE SHALL NEVER CONFUSE WORDS FOR ACTION NOR VALUE THEM FOR MORE THAN THEY ACCOMPLISH. 9. IT IS BETTER TO LAUGH THAN TO CRY, TO LIVE THAN TO DIE. IF WE ARE TO TRULY, FREELY LIVE TOGETHER THEN WE SHOULD ALSO BE PREPARED AND WILLING TO DIE TOGETHER. 10. WE DEMAND, AND SHALL ACHIEVE, NOTHING LESS THAN THAT WHICH OUR AUTHORITARIAN ENEMIES HAVE CUNNINGLY DEEMEDTHOUGH NEVER PROVENIMPOSSIBLE. WE LIVE AS GENUINE PROOF OF ACTIVE DEMOCRACY. WE BELIEVE THAT PROBLEMS EXIST WITHOUT SOLUTIONS ONLY WHEN THEIR CAUSES WILL THEM TO. 10a. We are not joking: well never return to the craven ranks of the complacent and afraid.

DEAR READER,
Dont put it in park / With miles to go / Need a match / Nevermore shall we read in the dark --Mischief Brew

I see the words I am writing through cheap non-prescription reading glasses and a monitor which electrocutes me each time I touch a part of its metal. I am listening to one of the last two review CDs which survived the same incident which took my prescription reading glasses. I am using OpenOffice 2.0 to layout this unfortunately sparse volume because I do not currently have the web access I need to activate my formerly-working copy of Adobe InDesign. More than ever, you may have gathered, I have reason to be angry at the status quo. For it was the states police who destroyed my good reading glasses and a capitalist security feature which prevents me from laying this issue down in much higher quality. Not that I do not prefer open software such as OOo. I dont have the programming skills to write in all the features which make me use a closed-source program such as Adobe InDesign. Once I do, Ill have no business with Microsoft Windows. However, if you or someone you know can help the cause by writing these features, please contact me personally through phmadore@riseup.net. Send your cordial thanks to the Baltimore (Maryland, United States) City Police Department for us having no review materials this time aroundwhile your humble editor was homeless at the beginning of April they took it upon themselves to throw all the materials, along with said glasses, his cellular phone, clothing, gifts for a lover, and much more into the garbage on North Charles Street. At time of writing this letter, the text of which I will not alter at time of publication, I had not written or solicited any reviews of Mischief Brews Songs From Under The Sink or Smash The Windows. If you are to partake in the music industry, however, I highly recommend these two albums. They are the manifestation of clearly tireless effort and they are words from a truly radical mind. For more information, please refer to FISTOLO.COM and MYSPACE.COM/MischiefBrew. I suppose since they are so good I may as well not write a review myself and speaking of reviews, Id like to let you know that Josh J. Zelonis (zelonis@gmail.com)quit the team

and lied (in vain) to the police about me less than one week later. Some people in this world never take responsibility for their own shortcomings or actions. I am not one of these people, and this is why I want to thieve responsibility for the lack of prose in this issue. I am supposed to be reading the hundreds of improperly formatted submissions we have. I have not been doing this. For all I remember, I may have even accepted some prose submissions this time around. There will be prose next issue. The mere fact that the vast majority of your submissions from December 16th, 2006 through May 1st, 2007 were not manuscripted does not constitute a sufficient excuse not to have read them. I simply did not have the time. If I was not working I was straightening my life out and if I wasnt straightening my life out I was being evicted or fired and if I was not being evicted or fired I was looking for food, housing, and employment and if I was not looking for food, housing, and employment I was trying to maintain my sanity through my own writing. However a problem such as not having the time cannot be identified without also identifying a solution. Thus a new prose editor named Devan Sagliani has offered to come on board. He is a fine writer himself. I recommend his story Hollywood Babylon, which can be read for free online at ThirstForFire.com. The upkeep and maintenance of the Thirst For Fire archives have become a disproduction, and there will be a final issue this summer. Because I am sure that not reading your submissions is an unforgivable offense and because most of you haven't read our past three issues in full, I am not going to ask for forgiveness. I am going to send, once again, my sincere thanks to poetry dispatcher Taylor Collier for keeping his shit together and providing the poesetic content we do have this time around. I am also going to encourage you to read the other three issues over the next six months. I promise you that DISPATCH Five will have plenty to report. There are rumors of a Baltimore Anarchist Network working to undermine the power of the state and capitalism by means of mockery and positive community organizing. It is further rumored that they are developing methods which will make them unstoppable. My plans are to continue rebuilding my life. DISPATCH and the work herein, unfortunately and still, even unto issue four, tends to be both a learning process and a manifestation of my life in flux. I am beginning to really like Baltimore, much more than Athens, Georgia, anyhow, from whence

I am anyways banished until shortly after our current deadline, November 1st. The solution to this manifest quality is getting more people involved in the project. Thank you for reading, thanks for your encouragement. Thank you for spreading the word (even if you havent realized that your sole duty is to do what you normally do: gossip.) Thanks to the cops for reminding me why they dont need to exist. Thanks to all those whove called them on me and to all those insulated fuckrags who think Im joking when I say this world is worth saving for our children. Thanks to my mother for staying alive, to my sister for writing now and then. Thanks to the Esperantists of the world. Thanks to the Industrial Workers of the World (iww.org). Thanks to George Walker Bush for providing this, our unique whisper in history. Thanks to Leigh Hughes for caring. Mostly, thanks for your patience, though I am tired of motherfuckers selling this project short. To them I have this to say: doubt yourselves instead, since youve so little to show for all your banter. To those whod like to see us do even more--beyond printing even: please see the Our Needs section of this issue. Fascisms in fashion, but we were never the cool kids anyways. Id rather die than watch the wise out there waste our chance to change the world. As CrimethInc. has said (and they likely didnt mean put out a better magazine): OUTDO US! OUTDO US! OUTDO US!

IN RESISTANCE,
P. H. Madore

Wouldn't this graphic make a fucking rad-ass stencil? Do it to it!

contents are 2007 their author because thats the way we get them to trust & submit to us. All images, designs & such are of the wealth of our new world & may not be used in copywritten form, but may be used for liberation purposes freely.

White House Yard Sale

Watch me, Im sculpting A cult of flies about The moistly hollow magic Of my mystique & grace brave truth equals debate in this nation gone to watching Nixon-At-Night & playing Globopoly w/the lives of children Astonishing is celebrity in Its glowing shrinegolden Rimmed toilet from a White House yard sale Thrown by Halliburton my dear dearest industry, please do not more than pay so Im able promptly to begin the dismantling of your principles

Hundred-Dollar Eye Drops

Watched the mirror for two weeks without the left eye healing itself & feared becoming Aldous Huxley, blind though brilliant with nice typewriting better half, but I had none of his qualities & panicked, flying down a coaster track. & the optometrist wanted to know if I was some kind of a left-wing terrorist because of my e-mail & I said anything but a leftist, but didnt clarify nor elaborate & said there was no reason I had no insurance except that I didnt & learned that if Id trusted instinct, waited three days, the line which the internet said indicated a pupil severance would have faded & I wouldnt have procured hundred-dollar eye drops or missed a full day of workbetter yet had I never stolen that blond jail-baits attention from my crazy peer redneck, hed never have banged my face into rough-shod concrete numerous times with his posse promising him victoryher name was Christina and she was terrible with the oral sex & she was saving real sex for a boyfriendI gained hundred-dollar eye drops & a weak blowjob from you, Atlanta.

Henry Chalise
is a pseudonym who does more than rest on laurels. He has produced a significant number of projects, notably little white poetry journal and the poetry feast, which can be found through accessing disproductions.org/hc

A Glass of Rx and the Seductive Blur

'Do tell' she sassed as her steely blues reeled in the prize, An alka-seltzer sized vicodin worth its weight in medallion. She needed it more than Veruca Salt needed a whoopin'. Teasing and pleading with her curves she knew he'd cave. She told him she wanted him on a kebob, all meatno veggies. He flipped the tablet into her ale, bon voyage and night night. They gave a cheer with their new champagne, foamy all over. Gracefully wasted they wished everything dissolved this easily.

Sometimes I See Kelly Everywhere

She had a Port Authority elegance about her She knew how to get around and she had gotten around There wasn't a backstage or backdoor That her worthy sleaze couldn't conquer She knew all the Jersey bus routes by heart And could make runny nylons brand new With a dab of Old Spice and a wet-nap She was the girl Axl looked at from stage But graciously never admitted it Or the fact she could out-drink him easily And begged anyone to resist her tasty madcap Never tiring, she meandered through Brilliant gutters and god-awful galas For the world was her clam and she knew it As she spun on the finger of any beautiful loser Now she referees at diner break-ups And waits for the perfect trucker to save her

Angela Perry
is a New York City poet living in the East Village, supporting herself by slinging martinis and porkchops in the West Village. She is the resident poet at the Manhattan Theatre Source, an eclectic space around the corner from her workplace. She currently has a poem that appears on fashion designer Heatherette's Spring 2006 line. She also has had or has poems in issues of Big Toe Review, Pawpars, The Pemmican Press, FRiGG Magazine, Snakeskin, Juked, Poetic Diversity, New Grafitti, and Adagio Verse Quarterly. Her poem Love is in the Eye of the Besotted was just nominated for a Pushcart Prize. She prefers beer that comes in a can and her nickname is Chicken. More information at angelajperry.com

The Session

the great gray ghost of yesterday's big beefy hamburger plopped into the toilet bowl like a misshapen afterbirth, and the young man who shat it sat there looking at his magazine, turning pages and studying crisp clear photographs of naked men performing various sexual activities, most of them solo, i. e., sans partner. as another gray ghost of yesterday's burger plopped into the toilet, the young man studied the magazine, flipped pages, then dropped the magazine onto the floor and attempted to throttle with efficacy the penile shaft of sapling shape that had stiffened and projected from between his legs, nudging navel, business tip aiming at smooth hairless zone between hard pink pointy little nipples. And, as yet

another gray ghost of big yummy yesterday's burger plopped with authentic splash-sounds galore into waiting water in toilet's big white bowl, young man of big highly functional erectile status in the land of porn dreams, magazine-induced realities, and toilet sitters, skillfully manipulated pleasure center shaft-worthy seamanship expertise put into full use, and, when cum cum cum spurted onto chest-centered zone between his cut little nips, he sighed and gasped and smiled, winced, shat out another ghost, and inhaled a whole bevy of wasted winter-day aromae.

Religion at the Recycling Center

well, in spite of your intention to just say the hell with the whole recycling hassle, you've had a moment of deep reflection, and now you're at the recycling center again. the waft is of gone wine. and, with all the bees buzzing you can almost hear a song. 'flight of the bumblebee' perhaps? or something sad and indefinable, the clink of sadness, mingled with the chirp of optimism? you glimpse a Yoo-Hoo bottle with chocolate drizzle stains streaking the interior. all containers are supposed to get rinsed before recycling, but, well, things happen, don't they? after all, you've had your own lapses, now haven't you? besides, you note that all the proper colors are mostly piled in all the proper places, the sunlight glinting, refracting back, odd and sparkly--green glass here, brown glass there, clear glass there. you join right on in, placing your own glass containers into their correct and respective categories. you feel good about yourself and about your participation in a good cause.

you regret that, for several months, you didn't recycle. but, today, you're taking a real stab at defeating chaos through uniformity-even though you can still see the occasional glint of pickle relish clinging desperately to home. next time you'll do a better job with your rinsing. you promise. in fact, you swear. and, at this moment, you sigh and smile and forgive darn near everyone for darn near everything. the aroma of old wine is strong in your nostrils, and, the deeper you breathe, the more your eyes water, and you find that you have to blink repeatedly to avoid making any more goddamn booboos.

Halls
misletoe the misspent youth of polymorphous perversion wrapped in liquid paper.

chance meetings encountered underneath the christmas trees still growing but all waiting for death, all in nice neat rows, some of them half a mile long, too.

christmas tree farms are a hotbed of erotic activities, half-naked young men out trimming them in the summer with their loud and buzzy trimmers. when they stop for a break mid-morning, well, let's just say that their attitudes weren't the only things that were fucked up.

and that's just in the summer.

in the winter, harvest time, cold, windy, companionship and warmth are highly sought-after commodities at this time of year. three sexy naked young men under a pile of freshly-harvested balsam-scented christmas trees: now that's a great place for hot scratchy-skinned sex.

* *

and that's in the winter. up above, high in the oaks, misletoe grows in clumps-pagan plant, plant love potion, not that anyone ever needed that much encouragement. white berries, green foliage, and the more, the merrier, there among the shards of unwrapped treasure.

Carl Miller Daniels

is an obsessive-compulsive-disordered agoraphobe who flosses quite regularly. Back when they were on better terms, Dan Sicoli of SLIPSTREAM wrote this about his work: The poems of Carl Miller Daniels bleed with raw honesty, burn with sexuality, and flesh out the quirky ironies of our lives. Daniels still rather likes that comment. He's published a chapbook: Museum Quality Orgasm. Daniels currently lives in ruggedly masculine Homerun, Virginia. He and his lover, Jon, have lived together for just over twenty-five years.

Sputnik
Green men came down to live in closets and attics with long antennae and armored, segmented torsos. They carried ray guns. Worse, they arrived on shiny ships and floated in at night on invisible comic rays. My father pulled me out of bed to watch one orbit our house in the suburbs. It was December, cold, still. He pulled me out onto the lawn, pointed upwards while his free hand lifted me almost off the ground. The frozen grass felt like hot water on my bare toes. I looked up and saw the Sputnik move through a cloud. My father stiffened. "It's the dawn of a new age." I wondered why he hadn't woke my mother. Later that night, I opened one eye for green monsters. I looked under my bed for smelly egg pods. Nothing. Recently, I read that a little dog rode in that small-fry spacecraft. Laika fried in the first few minutes of flight. Russian bravado and the expedience of their hair-brained technology made no allowances for the safety of a dog. I had the impression something far more mystical occurred that day, like the arrival of arthropods. Or at least the pull of a father, a tryst, an unraveling of something he'd once thought about and now saw.

Edward Nudelman
is a graduate of the University of Washington and is working in the Boston area as a scientist in the field of cancer research. Some of his poems have been recently published in The Orange Room Review, The White Leaf Review, Alone Together, Adagio Verse Quarterly, Because We Write, Shine, Thick with Conviction, and DISPATCH. He has received awards for his prose and has written two acclaimed books on a 20th Century American Artist.

Interior, Exterior
Hurried in a phonebooth she heard his coughing worsen, tilting his head, raising his hand, as coughing goes, his saturated voice-clogs like brine in a small pool. Having grown in Wisconsin, dissecting fields with barbed-wire, she sectioned thoughts into stacks, and was prone to moving early, resting late, hearing others do their work. His next eruption deafened the signal, crawling the line, those particles of infection like mud-daubers stalking. "I should have stayed with you in Cudahy," she said, stacking and moving. He coughed continuous static, stitching his days to their home, a dry but familiar quarantine. "Not a good day," he spat up. "How are the girls?" she asked. His voice slowed and he breathed. "They're outside playing," he said, "How are you?" She heard his chest through every word, as she explained to him the modes of a city.

Ray Succre

scalloped blotches
My grandmother died in a great quickening. She rattled and whimpered like a hypnotic machine. Abigail Folger, heiress to the Folger coffee fortune, was murdered in her home by the Manson family one week before Woodstock. A rush of people shinny up the stairs from underground as I walk down to the train. There is a struggle of open umbrellas; I look up and scalloped blotches of maroon, green, paisley and plaid cancel out the sky. When you watch black and white movies, do you ingest them like cold water? The lice are everywhere on my head. I never actually see the bugs. Only the small white iridescent eggs that stick to my hair shaft. Each strand of hair contains several cocoons. I hold my hair up to the light. The eggs are spaced out like birds on a telephone wire. My mouth tastes of metal; like sucking on a dime. I recited poems for money. My grandmother watched my words whisk out the window, as they spiraled and looped through the air in trails like a line of insects. When I finished I patted her legs, shook her shoulders. She looked at me with a jolt; she searched my forehead and touched my dress hem. I put my hand out for my change. Empty your pockets. Three quarters, five subway cards, the broken end of a candy cane; push it all into her hand. Nod.

Jan Bindas

more information: disproductions.org/hc/pf

ash wilderness, a hardback & limited edition book of poetry is now out from the henry chalise wing of disproductions. Written by john sweet, weve decided that well be honest & print only 107 copies of this brilliance. each of them costs only about twenty-eight bucks. there are less than 100 copies left.
more information: disproductions.org/hc/pf

Mad Moon
tonight the mad moon blew away vapors trailing grey across her face and no matter how you try to talk me out of it I saw her bright perfect signet on the night sky the clouds sneaking behind it the evil words death commands sealed in but speaking through the envelope

Anna Vlaspolos

Memory Box
I place in the fertile soil of my memory, a stitched quilt of numbers patterned with the thread of time with the days flickering fast and slow, the novelty of months the surprise of years paraded before us, and we often forget what meant what when it did and we roll up and down hills startled by the changes in us. I carefully cradled you in the warmth of these palms immersing you deep in my mind in the wealth of our shared time in my memory box, I keep you out of the noise of the world in the we, in the silence radiated. And this is not a box for forgiveness and loss, not from the death of parents by orphaned children bewildered in the grit-earth of an Africa country. My memory box is not physical, not old pressed metal discarded long ago. In my life I have such wealth and possessions that I never need to give or sacrifice the little I have on the path of future suns and moons in symbols and objects and magic.

My memories have no consequences of pain and poverty of HIV and AIDS I will not be buried in it in the dry clay In the infections glare of the day In the swell of tears after the departed have gone. My box is an illusion In the luxury of safety and support, here in the thirsty world of the first world, in this room abundant, satiated. My memory box is rich in design and affection and I do not devalue you by saying so or use this device used by others to mourn and remember their beloved, but this is a private sanctity of love that we inhabit in this space just for us.

Vincent Berquez

Slush Along the Interstate

Tracing fables in the cold face of the snow until your painter finger throbs like a bloated heart; some people tread softly through the slush in ear range, but I don't bother to turn and gaze into their empty faces, I'll only see my reflection. If you know one person, you know them all, and when my time to die comes, I'll face it like a gray, lonesome rainstorm; grab some Brooklyn kitchen wall-paper umbrella and step outside.

Ryan Uellendahl

Three Beers and a Bottle of Wine

Three beers and a bottle of wine and I'm sitting alone, hoping like hell for that annoying ringing that signals someone calling to yammer. While at the same time giving my day meaning; those inflected syllables were not muttered by accident, they care about me, want me, love me, and I'll have just one more glass before I believe any of it.

Erik Linzbach

little white poetry journal the fifth

disproductions.org/hc/lwpj

PRACTICAL SUBVERSION II
Esperanto estas la lingua de la revolucio

The chances are you understand the above subscripted sentence, dear dissident. It translates, verbatim, into the following: Esperanto is the language of the revolution. This could mean that Esperanto is the language of revolutionaries. It can also mean that, since planet earth happens to experience a full revolution every twenty-four hours, Esperanto is the language of the world. This litareview takes the position that it means both. The definition given at the beginning of the free, downloadable Kurso de Esperanto (Esperanto course) is the following: Esperanto is a language created to facilitate communication between the various people of the world. This alone qualifies its revolutionary potential. English is difficult to learn as a second language, especially when ones first language is Eastern. Esperanto is easy to learn no matter your first lingua. It was developed by Dr. L. Zamenhof and was first introduced to the world in 1887. Owing to the failure of a previous attempted international tongue, Volapk, Esperanto was not at first taken seriously. It then vaulted to the height of its historical popularity about the same time socialism did, the turn of the 20th century (coincidence?) It was the official language of Neutral Moressnet shortly after the First World War, but this nation, like all nations including the one youre caged in, was doomed not to survive. An interesting tidbit is that the language has been used by the United States Military in training exercises, as the language of their enemy (coincidence?) Aside from its ease of learning to speak and read, Esperanto has another thing going for itwords are spelled as they sound in a much more coherent pattern than in English. It knows no silent letters. (Nor are there silent anarchists.)

To learn Esperanto you need only to invest the effort. It can be done in one day or one year, depending on you. With the information-liberating advent of Google Books, a number of hard-to-find and out-of-print Esperanto textbooks are now available to you, free of charge, by going to books.google.com and entering any of the following phrases: Esperanto, Esperanto course, or learn Esperanto. Of course there are other phrases that will bring up such books. We recommend downloading an Esperanto dictionary and Practical and Theoretical Esperanto (Universal Language Publishing, Boston, 1906) by Max Talmey either from the powerful Google server or from our own server, via litdispatch.net/dp/four. Further it is highly recommended that you download the free, audio-enhanced, multi-platform (Windows, Mac, and Linux) computer program, Kurso de Esperanto from Kurso.br. This program includes twelve lecionos (lessons) and by the end of the course you are guaranteed to have at least a basic understanding of the tongue, both spoken and written, to which you can expand greatly upon with the aid of the aforementioned 120-page textbook. Before long, in Baltimore, well have open Esperanto teaching workshops. As with all skills, we intend to teach each other la lingua de la revolucion. If our sisters worldwide (thats you) take our example in your locality, then not only will it be easier to communicate with all radicals, but also itll be easier to utilize the enhanced communication networks the Digital Age has brought with it. If Taiwanese brothers need arms, food, or whatever from the West when things get heavy, theyll no longer be as compelled to find an English translator before issuing their smoke signalthey can instead dispatch in Esperanto. If we teach it to our children the authorities will have real fearing to do: one more barrier to world unity has been thereby undermined, and the despot rulers themselves may be next. Beginning with Issue Five, though we promised to have begun with this very issue, dispatch litareview will be released in at least English and Esperanto. To us the power of communicating by way of a language which our comrades worldwide can utilize, which our enemies will have to heist to keep up with us, has been clear since we discovered it some time ago. The truly grand part of it is that, if necessary, we can take this tongue as a whole and build it into a sort of code which the authorities will have to continually break. This wont be so difficult once enough of us understand it. Love, An Aspiring Esperantist

PRACTICAL SUBVERSION III

non-capitalist, passion-driven, and libertarian alternative software happens to be of far higher quality than its enslaved counterpartsfrom the operating system itself on up to file transfer protocol (FTP) program Open-source software has been around since the 1980s, when Pac Man was still a ruling escapismsince long before human beings found themselves, on the whole, trapped by the convenience of one more computer screen. This is a practical article, however, not meant to further argue for something that needs no arguing: truly free software which can be modified (with much learning on the end-users part, anyway) to your needs by you or by anyone with the programming know-how to make it happen. For all of the basic computer programs needed by disproductions there are viable for-sale and liberated competitors. Here is the break-down from the ground up.

Operating System: we can use either Microsoft Windows, Apple OS Whatever, or one of many varieties of Linux. We choose Linux, and not just any Linux flavor. There is one which is truly freeeven to the point where they will send you a free installation disk in the post (it, like most Linux distributions, can also be frelly downloaded from the developers' website). It's called Ubuntu, which is an ancient African word that means humanity to others. More information at ubuntu.com. Internet Browser: the editor has been using Mozilla since it came about upon the opening of Netscape's code to the open-source community. From Mozilla there has in recent years sprung another browser, Mozilla Firefox, which has been endlessly more popular and has now been embraced by the editor, too. It runs on just about every operating system, is probably familiar to the reader, and can be downloaded from mozilla.com. E-mail: the Mozilla suite was good for e-mail and IRC chat as well as browsing the web. An e-mail client we recommend called Mozilla Thunderbird has also been developed and is also available through mozilla.com.

Office Suite: in the beginning, there was Sun Microsystem's StarOffice 5.0. The firm made the decision to open up the code, although it had already been giving away the somewhat orphaned project for free to non-Sun users, and the OpenSource community ran with it. A little known fact is that OpenOffice, the aptlynamed, near-fully featured suite which this issue was lain out with, actually saves Microsoft Word Documents more efficiently than Microsoft Word itself. It can be downloaded for any operating system via OpenOffice.org. Photoshopping Software: the Gimp has long been the preferred image editing/creation software for Linux users, being as fully-featured as Adobe's over-priced Photoshop. More recently it was ported to Windows and, as far as the editor has seen, lacks nothing whatsoever in features. (Whatever features it may lack can be created through its advanced plugin system.) It is only the different set-up that one must get used to. More information is at Gimp.org. Audio Editing: Audacity does everything you need to do, through a simple interface, for a grand cost of zero dollars on all operating systems. To give it a try, visit audacity.sourceforge.net. FTP (File Transfer Protocol): If you're using Windows and having trouble finding a quality, secure FTP client/server, then FileZilla is for you. We have been using it since not long after the turn of this century, and its developers have only greatly improved it since that time. There is no better free, alternative such program, especially not for Windows. Dig it at filezilla.sf.net. And Beyond: SourceForge.net, by the way, is the best place to go hunting for free and liberated software. For years they have offered webspace and visibility to open-source groups, and through a decentralized serving system they manage to keep their servers at top-speed. Just ignore the advertisements.

Love, Another Rogue Anti-Profiteer

OUR NEEDS
for the more-fortunate many who would sincerely like to help

In Boston, October of 2006, around my birthday (Friday 10/13), I was sitting outside of Golds Gym near the ballpark, smoking a cigarette and preparing to get a free shower a friend whose camper I was sleeping in had promised me. A man with brilliant blue eyes (who never ended up revealing his true name, claiming that he was a famous writer and liked to keep his friendships friendly) walked out, looked at me, decided we should talk, and to make a longer story short, ended up treating me to some healthy food and trading me a brand-new pair of military-issue socks (the socks I had were just plain out of order, plus I was still wearing my sandals in a New England fall!) for a digital camera minus the memory card. We were speaking of anarchy while we ate the food and he mentioned that he had an idea for an alternative economy: members of this economy would carry lists of their needs/wants and fulfill them by/for each others mutual benefit. While I prefer a straight-up gift economy, I have decided to give this needs list thing a try for the sake of this, my favorite project. There have been many people who have volunteered help in non-substantive ways, from promising to purchase our few wares to promising to spread the word. Wed love to physically print dispatch but not before the cover price can be $0.00. I figure there are those reading this whod really like to help but arent sure how, and this is written solely for them. This is not a beggars list of demands as much as it is not a jab at those whove helped us in ways not listed here. I can, however, count on one hand the number of people whove unselfishly, materially supported disproductions. I should name them, thus I will.

Leigh Hughes (edificewrecked.com) Jonathan Penton (unlikelystories.com) Matt DiGangi (thievesjargon.com) Pete McCommons (flagpole.com) Carl Miller Daniels (pages 19-24)

Send lawyers, guns, and money. --Warren Zevon

I. Distribution, Distributors Although we havent a vast number of the printed, musical, or clothing projects most distributors are looking for, we feel this makes it even easier for you to help distribute us. Here are a few ideas on how, and of course (anarchists that we are), we fully encourage you to make and enact your own solutions to this monumental problem (were currently all workingclass slobs without much money to throw at it.) It would be grand if you could:

print your favorite passages of this & other disproductions & use the white space to write love notes, venue information, additions, prose, poetry, or just "disproductions.org," & pass them around (little white poetry journal is especially conducive to this); purchase the same disproductions & do the same (beginning with the moderate and flexible number of nine copies, we will discount our cover prices by 1040% for earnest supporters); get in touch with your friends at AK Press & other distributors & encourage them to carry more literaryoriented stuff, beginning with ours; e-mail digital copies of dispatch litareview, little white poetry journal, & other such projects to your friends and lovers.

II. Participate In Dispiracy Nope, no bullshit. For as many times as weve called for more hands on deck, for as many people whove offered their assistance and then flaked, for as many people whove helped and then jumped ship when things became heavy, we are as of 05/2007 the following skeleton crew of dispatching pirates: Henry Chalise (non-existant, actually), Taylor Collier, P. H. Madore, Rob Plath, and Devan Sagliani. Your skillful contributions are desired and needed. We ask only that you come as humble as we encourage each other to remain and that you contribute your best effort at your aspect of the project. Experience is not required or preferred--can-do personalities capable of operating in a crew based on respect and honesty are required and preferred. A dispatcher is anything but lazy. As of this issue there has been no creative or manual assistance in the design aspect of dispatch litareview or the other disproductions. This is a shame because we believe in the power of collective creativity. Far better yet, if you have your own project idea of any sort and are considering starting up a brand-new productions venue for it, we ask that you first consider approaching us about realizing it. For a bunk on this pirate ship and your piece of the booty (that is, our artistic satisfaction), please do contact staff@litdispatch.net with a letter of resignation from the dead past and a letter of interest in this projects future. Thanks.

III. Subvertise We do not advertise in the traditional sense. Our intent is quite the opposite of tacking on a few paid ads encouraging our readers to look here or there for this or that reason in order to spend this or that amount of money. Sales of advertising and books, however, are indeed the anchor of this in-progress galley. We dont advertise for crap we dont like, nor do we advertise for things that directly promote consumer capitalism in any sense, because it wouldnt make sense for us to. Theres no filtering system or anything, its just smart to get in touch with your information and what it is youre wanting to advertise before you post payment for an ad. Contact Paul, the last remaining founding father, at editor@litdispatch.net or the phone number 1.443.824.8177 to discuss advertising in a future issue of dispatch litareview, and use the following rates as a ruler for payment:

30% off for repetitive ads; 75% for anarchists $25.00 for a half-page advertisement $40.00 for a full-page advertisement

IV. Donate

Content & Loot

As always, your submissions help. Please keep them coming. We still are especially looking for non-fictional accounts of daring resistance and visual art. Monetary donations go directly into the project and its expansion. As you know, we have a growing diversity of projects to fund. If youd like to earmark your donation, do so and it will be respected. Donations are not tax-deductable; they do aid the abolition of taxes and the governments which levy them (and the capitalism which precedes them as well.) Our PayPal addresses are editor@litdispatch.net and h.chalise@gmail.com, depending on which wing youd like to support. For more on the henry chalise department, please do see disproductions.org/hc. Our mailing address is: disproductions / P. O. B. #### / Baltimore, MD 21217. We generally try to send stuff, especially stuff not in abundance (since they send us that which is also not in abundance, the falsehood that is money), to our supporters, so please include your name and return mailing address on an index card or equivalent scrap of paper that can be stored for reference. Our costs to date have been less than $500.00. Imagine what we could do with twice what weve already used!

Materials

Lev Konstantinovsky (lev.konst@gmail.com) and the United States Postal Service effectively destroyed Paul Henry Madores home-grown desktop personal computer in March, 2007. Melvin Mathurin (mmathurin@uga.edu) of Athens, Georgia has allowed Madore to borrow his dysfunctional laptop since October, 2006. Madore would like to return the laptop fully functional (it was borrowed on condition of repair) no later than October, 2007. If youve a laptop (the destruction led Madore to realize he did not anymore need a home-style PC such as that since he is so often without a home anyhow) with the following minimum requirements for donation or for barter or for sale (on the wicked cheap), please reach Madore directly via phmadore@riseup.net or 443.824.8177. This laptop is: -rugged, battle-tested; -medium-sized; -battery strong; -at least one gigahertz in power; -w/ CD writing capability; -w/ at least thirty gigabytes of space; -w/ USB ports and expansion slots. Any such donation or barter will be immensely appreciated. Any computers received over and beyond this will be allocated, along with the remnants of the desktop mentioned and other computer parts weve compiled, to a computer collective the Baltimore Anarchist Network will hopefully have in operation by the end of this calender year. Further desired materials are the following:

some digital imaging equipment; paper and a new copier (Konstantinovsky maintains possession of our copier); postage; blank white matchbooks and packs of rolling papers (they are useful in spreading word).

DISTATIONARY
magazines serving no other purpose than for reading make for better toilet paper than they do for the grandiose intentions of we radicals

How To Use This Stationary

This document contains fifty-two pages. This lack of content is the result of problems briefly explained in the letter from P. H. Madore (pages 8-10). To help us thwart such problems as we've encountered this time around, refer to the Our Needs section of this issue and to our Submission Guidelines. To round up to an even fifty pages (minus both covers), the idea was had to create a functional part, not unlike the stencils and puzzles in our sister magazine, Rolling Thunder (crimethinc.com). RT also makes for a good mouse-pad and for good collage material, the editor would like to add with a wink. Thus distationary sees its first six months' use. It will now become, as has practical subversion, a regular part of this magazine's production. You are undoubtedly familiar with stationary, that personalized or corporatized or otherwised leaf intended for writing love notes, letters, or short notes. The purpose of this stationary is to provide for the dissemination of our web address and radical art at the same time as the provision of your handwritten dispatching. To print the entire first set of distationary, here are steps you can follow: -Go to "File" (upper-left), then "Print" -Under "Print Range," (second section) type "45-51" -To print multiple copies, type a numeral in the "copies" field

We are now accepting submissions for DISTATIONARY II.

If all the land would rise, I swear these things no more shall be.

Ethan Miller

disproductions.org | riotfolk.org

Simulation cities and computer towers It won't take much to wipe it out...
(Mischief Brew)

disproductions.org | fistolo.com

do you spend your days counting the hours you're awake?

-Rise Against

disproductions.org |

myspace.com/riseagainst

litdispatch.net

***

crimethinc.com

dispatch litareview

litdispatch.net

disproductions.org