\input zine \section{Welcome} Well maybe not, where did you get this zine anyways? I find myself between worlds (of my own making), and so this is¨ documentation somewhat like a post card written while waiting for¨ a bus, and therefore kind of a letter to my friends; probably¨ some of the material will be alien, since I've never included all¨ the things that I do in one place, outside of our house. Some of¨ the things in here I've been saving for a long time waiting for¨ the appropriate moment that never came. Many have already been¨ used already. Some is brand new. And one or two were written by¨ other people and I just liked them. It's also a way to {\it get¨ rid of} stuff -- once published, I can throw them out in favor of¨ this more compact storage device. \midgraphic{215pt}{Our present house, the kitchen with Maria¨ messin' about. The darkroom now occupies the back dark corner.¨ Furnishings by Dumpster.} \smallsection{Our house} Our house is going about as perfectly as these things can go.¨ There are six of us: me, Valerie, Greta, David, Donna, Shawn,¨ Bill. Oops that's seven. Then there's the people who don't live¨ here but have keys and walk in anytime to hang out or work or¨ whatever, who we'd trust with our lives: Duke, Michael, Deke,¨ Matt, Ria come to mind immediately, there's lot's more. Probably¨ another dozen. We are in flux. Donna is in DC visiting her girlfriend Maria.¨ Valerie is on tour playing music and hawking her records in¨ Bruce's van. Greta went with her, and Bill hopped trains to meet¨ her in STL, they rode trains to TX then came back. Phil is¨ subletting Donna's room. She will return next week. We are trying¨ to figure out how to make room so he can stay if he wants. Shawn¨ is in Hawaii, will be back next week but is planning on moving¨ there in a month. His friend Mark is subletting, but it seems¨ like he's always lived here. \midgraphic{220pt}{Our previous house: Duke, Jeff, me, Greta,¨ David and Valerie sitting. (Photo copyright Alain¨ McLaughlin/Reaction! Images 1990)} It's a busy place here. Shred of Dignity hangs in there. It pops¨ back to life in a moment and puts on shows, etc. Shawn's Shred of¨ Dignity Records is selling lots of 7" EPs, zines. Valerie's music¨ is very successful. Greta's films are in distribution all over¨ and in festivals. Bill's movie is opening for a major release.¨ David is building/selling motorcycles with Chuck. HOMOCORE¨ carries on filling orders. Phil is making music on his 8-track.¨ Christian is putting together his zine on the house computer.¨ Deke and everyone else uses it and The Office also for generating¨ text. The darkroom is complete and developing film. The house¨ Tr\"uk is hanging in there. We will do a vid/film show to benefit¨ us. \midgraphic{177pt}{Our next home. (Photo: NASA)} I am restless. There is nothing I want to do in this city¨ anymore. New Mexico is next. Greta is interested. A road trip is¨ planned for July. Who knows what that will bring. We are always¨ in flux. \smallsection{FidoNet} At this point in my life, FidoNet is more or less complete. My¨ involvement is limited to sysoping a backwater node in a¨ comfortable backwater net, a member of the FTSC (FidoNet¨ Technical Standards Committee), possible FidoNews (FidoSnewz)¨ columnist if all works well, and holder of the trademarks, no¨ small matter that. Fido/FidoNet the program isn't selling for shit anymore; I miss¨ the money, but I'm no longer willing to do the work. Fido is¨ still an OK bulletin board, but FidoNet is not a hot network¨ interface by today's standards. It has some powerful features,¨ but no one cares, because the emphasis is now totally echomail,¨ and rightly so. But -- It paid my way for four years, got me the Fluegelman Award¨ and \$5000 cash, two trips to Holland (HobbyComputerClub, thanks¨ Henk!), ten zillion writeups in ten zillion magazines, (my¨ picture on the cover of the HCC magazine), a fluff article in¨ OMNI, and got me laid exactly zero times. Regrets? None (except I¨ wish I used ``extent'' instead of ``region'' in the nomenclature¨ -- it would have saved us from all those assholes). It was tempting at a couple of points to want it to last¨ ``forever'' and I even got a bit uptight about it. But all good¨ things end, or they become undead. The nodelist (the list of FidoNet network member computers) is¨ now solidly over 10,000 entries. That's a lot by anyone's¨ standards. I'm sure my involvement is not totally over; the¨ trademarks at least require vigilance, and there will always be¨ assholes out there requiring legal action to make them desist. The FidoNet's history needs to be written; amazing things have¨ happened that almost noone knows about. Very few people have a¨ good Big Picture. Artifacts are few because of its electronic¨ nature, but documents do exist. \smallsection{Employment} Things are downright {\it oppressive} these days, never mind this¨ recession-that-isn't-really-happening-really. To get to the¨ point, I am no longer employable. There is no room for me in the¨ new corporate state. And I'm not sure I mind. I am now a computer industry drop out. I can't take all the¨ suits. I don't like the ``team player'' crapola, a code phrase¨ for corporate conformity. I won't piss in a jar, nor swear not to¨ think impure thoughts. The Feds are squeezing corps to hire, not¨ use consultants. Computer graphics bore me to tears. I am not¨ thrilled by Windows or Macintoshes. LANs are frequently employee¨ control mechanisms. I go to Fry's Electronics, and get followed¨ around by a security guard; swarms of unhealthy, unhappy looking¨ geeks buy american-flag T-shirts from a big bin near the¨ diskette-supplies isle, eating sickly pink hot dogs sold out in¨ the parking lot. And there's no sidewalks there. Between the early CP/M and PC worlds, and the Fido and FidoNet¨ saga, I learned more than most people do in a lifetime. I have no¨ regrets, and I really don't have any interest in that stuff any¨ more. \goodbreak\bigskip% \lline{\hl Senseless murder}% \lline{\hl of innocant paper targets}% \hbox to\bigcol{\hrulefill}% Guns. Whee! I'm sure I must have some murderous urges in there¨ somewhere, just waiting to get out and kill a school bus full o'¨ kids or something. I mean, all gun owners are nigger-killin'¨ rednecks, or furrin-lookin' mass murderers, right? Oh well. I wish I had saved the letters I got back from our so-called¨ ``representatives'' when I wrote urging opposition to some¨ oppressive gun law (``assault-weapon'' registration I believe).¨ Burton or Cranston or one of those idiots responded with, I¨ swear, `people who want to own those things are psychologically¨ sick, and just haven't been caught yet', words to that effect. I¨ swear. Oh well. I bought my first gun in 1986, a S\&W model 686 revolver, .357¨ Magnum, 6" barrel. After getting over the culture shock, I found¨ that lo! not all shooters are pigs. After shooting at Chabot Gun¨ Club for a few years, I was still interested, and started¨ shooting PPC, a somewhat regimented sport allegedly designed as¨ FBI training. Many people shoot simultaneously with holstered¨ guns at a series of targets at fixed ranges, fixed time limits¨ and required number of shots. Pretty friendly, and great safe¨ introduction to practical gun handling, sight picture, trigger¨ control, holstering, etc. Somehow I ran into the three-gun crowd (shotgun, rifle and¨ handgun). You have to have shot PPC and be a very safe shooter.¨ Each month a different scenario to shoot in; fake hostage setups,¨ shooting clinics, weak-hand shooting, run, duck, shoot behind¨ cover, shoot at bad guys don't hit good guys (cardboard),¨ adrenalin, time pressure and actually friendly competition.¨ Safety is utmost. The top 1\% type experts are friendly and¨ helpful. I'm a totally out punk fag. I have the only studded holster and¨ belt in the club. It is a constant effort to balance look-I'm-just-there-to-shoot with refusing to be closety or¨ tolerate ``fag'' jokes and the like. I joined them and so to a¨ certain extent it's their world. Balance is required. I think my¨ leather jacket makes some of the cops think ``bad guy'', and my¨ occasional blue mohawk freaks out the rest of them, but to their¨ absolute credit they are to a person friendly, tolerant, open¨ minded and sometimes curious. One incident bears repeating. A long time and respected club¨ member referred to some over-specialized sport shooters (PPC with¨ kilobuck guns, plumb bobs and levels) as ``a bunch of fags''.¨ Now, he meant wimps, ie.~not very sporting. But that's not what¨ he said. I was working that event, scoring. I heard the remark,¨ made to a small group of veteran shooters, and I\dots let it¨ pass, avoiding confrontation. That day I went home pissed, at¨ myself, why do I go there, everything you might imagine. Three days later I get a phone call and apology. He said as soon¨ as he made the remark he regretted it; it was not something he¨ intended, but one of those words you grew up using, that¨ occasionally still slip out. I told him I was relieved, and how I¨ felt about not pointing it out at the time. The next monthly shoot was also the end of the year party, and¨ planning for the next year. At the prize giveaway, I picked a¨ Colt 45 T-shirt, and said something to the effect of, ``Cool,¨ I'll wear it to an ACT-UP or Queer Nation meeting and piss people¨ off''; some giggled and some almost choked on their Cokes. By the following month, it was out in the open. A bunch of us¨ talked about it on and off throughout the day, about various¨ forms of oppression, but most stood a safe distance away¨ listening, which is fine too. The club prez told me how he gets¨ funny references to his ethnic origins, and could imagine what it¨ was like. He said he always wondered how it was for the two of us¨ (me and Wendy) who simply showed up because we wanted to shoot,¨ and fit in the hard way; most are friends-of-friends and got¨ there word of mouth. He was rather proud of the club, and I had¨ to agree. He also asked ``well, what do you think of us NRA¨ rednecks now?''. The national NRA are a bunch of dinosaurian jerks who will¨ unfortunately probably do themselves in. Their connections to¨ some of the most reactionary and hateful pigs in the country¨ doesn't help one bit. The fact is -- hunting and sporting use of¨ firearms is extraneous. The real issue is protection of liberty¨ -- an armed countryside helps prevent government from attempting¨ a violent takeover. Nothing to do with murdering bunny rabbits in¨ the woods. It's not like we're about to rise up and overthrow the¨ government (gimme a break), more likely it's the reverse.¨ Governments always round up citizens' weaponry when they want to¨ impose ``order'' on them. It's the {\it Second} Amendment, for¨ shit's sake, right after the First one everyone loves to parrot. The only rational mass-market article on gun control I've ever¨ seen was by Robert Santiago and Walter Lowe Jr., in {\smc¨ Emerge}, a black cultural magazine, Vol.~1, \#10, September 1990.¨ (Send SASE for a copy.) ``While white Americans debate the gun¨ issue, it is African Americans who are killing each other in¨ record numbers. But there are laws we can support that will keep¨ guns out of the hands of irresponsible individuals without¨ compromising the rights of gun owners.'' The article is quite¨ sane, is not necessarily ``pro-gun'', and even has one of those¨ ``Do you need a gun?'' questionnaires in a little box, with¨ sensible questions. \smallsection{HOMOCORE} Within it's own context, HOMOCORE is amazingly like FidoNet.¨ Which, in hindsight, isn't surprising, because they were both¨ mechanisms for communication, and I used the same process to make¨ them work. Both ended up as worlds of their own. Or was it¨ coincidental timing, and it was all about to happen anyways?¨ We'll never know. Homocore the movement (lower case) was inevitable. Once again,¨ for the record, Bruce LaBruce and G.B. Jones of JD's fame coined¨ the word. I do acknowledge that HOMOCORE the zine (upper case)¨ spread the concept like wildfire. It wasn't shit luck, it was¨ simply work. It's so obvious to me that so many things fail for¨ simply not stating in plain language what it is they are trying¨ to do. JDs clearly stated their goal. I did in HOMOCORE too, the¨ ``You don't have to be gay\dots'' mini-manifesto. Sometimes¨ things are so simple. \#7 is the final issue. It's gotten too much out of hand. You can¨ read about my personal reasons why in the editorial, but also,¨ it's a financial drain, and I want my life back. And for all I know, it could get me busted. Violence? Skinheads?¨ Muggings? War? Financial disaster? Mass pollution? Medical¨ disaster? Noooo problem. I can take care of myself. The only¨ thing I fear in life is getting spuriously hassled or worse by¨ the Feds. I don't know how many people are really aware of the truly¨ foreboding systematic suppression of speech and communications¨ going on now. Frankly, it's terrifying. And seeing how it's all I¨ do, really, set up communications mechanisms, I'm scared¨ shitless. Money-wise, each issue of HOMOCORE ran real close to break even.¨ For previous issues, I ran it close (my readership is extremely¨ poor), and on paper ``made'' about 5\cents/copy, including only¨ printing, postage and envelopes. That 5\cents\ covered paper,¨ phone calls, gluesticks, etc, and of course meant it was really a¨ slight loss, but that's OK, it wasn't meant to make money, only¨ support itself, and close was close enough. But \#7 is a total loss. Printing cost was \$1100 (2500 copies,¨ 64 pages; \#6 was 1500 copies, 32 pages), postage on each \$1.21.¨ Not only did I underestimate the postal increase (to¨ 29\cents/oz), I did not take into account the word-of-mouth sales¨ would still be thinking that it was \$1 per copy, instead of \$2.¨ On top of that, it had been almost a year since the previous¨ issue; I had a lot of orders for \#7 pre-paid at \$1 each. It was¨ impossible to get those missing \$1's, and the point was to get¨ the zine out, and so I just ate it. Even after I sell the 1200 or¨ so copies remaining, I'll still be about \$800 in the hole. Oh¨ well. Great timing -- right when my consulting job was ending, I dumped¨ my free money into the propane Rambler, with no further income in¨ sight. I had a backlog of 400? 500? orders total during the¨ period February -- April, some dating back to August 1990. I was¨ getting third letters from people ``where is my zine, I mailed¨ you a dollar in\dots''. Diet Popstitute, the sweetheart, did a benefit for HOMOCORE at¨ the new Klubstitute May Day '91, and netted me \$200, which got¨ rid of {\it all} the backlog! Up to date, only a year later! So I still have over 1000 copies to move. They are \$1.20 each in¨ quantity, cover price \$2, if you're interested\dots \smallsection{Typography} It was probably inevitable that I'd pick up Donald Knuth's \TeX\ system. It has all I hate to love and love to hate --¨ machine independence, procedural/programmable instead of¨ graphical paradigm, completely public domain, obscure, hard to¨ operate, impossible to debug, monstrously complex and difficult¨ to learn. (After over two years, I still consider myself barely¨ more than a novice \TeX nician, though I have written output¨ routines, and hacked fonts with METAFONT.) I did all eight HOMOCOREs in \TeX. And oh my, do the early ones¨ look {\it awful}. \TeX\ purists would shit bluebirds if they saw¨ it. I used it to simply {\it jam} text on a page. With \#7 I¨ opened it up a bit, went to 11 point typeface, and bigger¨ leading, though there is still 20 continuous pages of monolithic¨ text without a single graphic. (Not even dictionaries do this.)¨ My only defense is that HOMOCORE had to be bottom line zip zero¨ cost, hence the density. The readers didn't mind, or at least¨ they put up with it to get what they wanted. But \TeX\ is capable of incredible beauty, which I'm slowly¨ noticing, having abused it for years. Too bad there's no money in¨ it. The usual story -- nobody cares except us perfectionist¨ assholes. In this age of prefab TV foregone conclusions, it's¨ nice to have some thing that you'll never quite master. \smallsection{Road Trips} A road trip is planned for this July. It was originally going to¨ be to the Rainbow Gathering in Vermont first week July, with¨ stops in Boulder Colorado to visit Richard Lowrider, and the¨ Radical F\ae rie sanctuary in Short Mountain Tennessee, and then¨ on to New Mexico, the last as a visit and a future-home scouting¨ trip. Eventually we realized we were looking forward to New Mexico the¨ most, and dreading the drive through the Midwest and Northeast,¨ myself especially. It's a dreadful drive after the wide open¨ West. So we decided to skip the Gathering and go directly to New¨ Mexico instead. Details to follow. There seems to be a wave of people fleeing the City to parts¨ Otherwise. And lots of energy in the direction of New Mexico. Is¨ it the Law of Fives (once you start looking for a thing you start¨ seeing it), or is it really a pattern? Both, but emphasis on the¨ latter. New Mexico has a long weirdo tradition. \smallsection{Automobilia} My current car is the 1963 Rambler Classic 550 Cross Country¨ Station Wagon (whew!) you see pictured here. If you got the¨ complete package, you can read all the grubby details about it's¨ LPG conversion. I bought it from Len's AMC Auto Wreckers in San Jose, two months¨ before he scrapped the whole yard and sold out. I bought it¨ without an engine, and towed it home with my 1970 AMC Hornet,¨ also picture here. The Rambler was an intentional project. I wanted a car I could¨ travel and sleep in, and still use in a city. I disassembled my¨ 1970 Hornet to build it (and I disassembled my 1979 AMC V-8¨ Spirit to build that; I used to autocross (SCCA SOLO II) the¨ Spirit, so it was pretty high-performance). The Rambler has the¨ infamous fold-down seats (after 27 years, the original upholstery¨ is still in great shape), and all folded down, the inside¨ dimensions are 8 feet long by 42 inches wide -- enough room for a¨ twin size futon plus 3 feet of length. All in a 3150 pound, 108¨ inch wheelbase car. Valerie made it curtains (not completed at photo time) and it's¨ got the Hornet's rugged 232 ci.~6 cylinder motor with a custom¨ grind propane camshaft, AMC 4WD V-8 cooling system, 60 amp¨ alternator, gigantic truck battery, the largest 14-inch tires¨ available, aluminum hi-tech wheels, '79 V-8 disk brake system,¨ brand new custom-ratio gearbox with manual Borg-Warner Overdrive,¨ a custom box for the roof rack to keep camping junk off the¨ seats, stereo, CB, scanner, fluorescent lighting, a real LP¨ stove, a photovoltaic panel to charge the lead-acid if I drain¨ it, 10 gallons of extra LPG, for a worst-case range of 400 miles¨ (at 16MPG). It's safe to say the whole thing is hand assembled.¨ The only subassemblies I did not assemble was the transmission¨ (by Ed Stack), the differential cluster, basic wiring, glass, and¨ chassis parts. Everything else I had apart. And it doesn't make¨ any smog (well, CO$_2$), and my insurance is \$320 a year, in San¨ Francisco -- hell I know people who pay that {\it per month}. This is definitely my most fun toy.\endblob \bye