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The CAlL This is a call. To the artists, thinkers, activists, musicians, cinematographers, directors, designers, computer technicians, athletes, bookworms, web designers, sculptors, procrastinators, writers, ranters, ravers, socialites, models, drinkers, DJs, MCs, poets, party people, talkers, photographers, dancers,

TO THE STUDENTS

ANY MEDIUM. ANY TIME. ANY WHERE. CREATE! CREATE! CREATE!


Dear CSUMB,

(or whomever else picks up this zine)

you are not bored. you are a magnet.

Wake up. Open your eyes to the beautiful people and the wondrous happenings all around you. You may or may not know it, but there is a movement brewing; A collective exchange of consciousness is beginning to unfold.

step into the

Conversation

We are reaching a critical point in community awareness that is evolving with each and every day. However, CSUMB is far from maturity; That much is apparent. As we begin to explore our identity as a university, we are torn between looking toward ever-more precarious future, and the original vision of the university itself (which has since been either forgotten or discarded as merely an effective marketing tool to unsuspecting freshman).

we are the heartbeat of the community

Only we can decide the path our futures will take. Indeed, only we can decide who we really are as creative human beings. You might consider this just another piece of info-junk to sift through and that’s ok. But, We at G.T. Press (ZineMakers of Guerrilla Think Art Collective) encourage you to look deeper, and to share part of yourself, as we have with this zine. Enjoy.

“It doesn’t feel

so much like a leap of faith as something I know in my heart.” Strange to hear himself say this, but it’s the truth. “The heart is a muscle,” She corrects him. “You ‘know’ in your limbic brain. The seat of instinct. The mammalian brain, deeper, wider, beyond logic. That is where advertising works, not in the upstart cortex. What we think of as ‘mind’ is only a sort of jumped-up gland, piggybacking on the reptilian brainstem and the older, mammalian mind, but our culture tricks us intro recognizing it as all of consciousness. The mammalian spreads continent-wide beneath it, mute and muscular, attending its ancient agenda. And makes us buy things.” He takes her in, a sidewise glance. In that moment’s silence seeing her unsmiling, and perhaps very much who she is. “When I founded kjhkjnal blackphrase, that was my core tenet, that kblakcakl all truly viable advertising addresses that older, deeper mind, beyond language and logic....”

Talk Back “it is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society.”

it’s not sick...it’s just out of control...


Work Sucks. Everyone knows that. Nearly everyone has worked, currently works, or will work to make a living (if there are any jobs available). We have to. There is no choice. Some of us have a choice as to where we work, but we have to work somewhere to survive. It makes sense that we have to expend some effort to get what we need to live. Humans even seem to be hard-wired to be productive, especially if we have access to work that is interesting and stimulating. We are also part of a human society, so we have to work with others. There is nothing wrong with that. But because land and buildings, factories and stores, in a word—property— are all already owned by some company, we typically have to work for others.

When we work we usually either produce a good or provide a service. This often means we have to make or do something that seems pointless. But even when we make or do something that is interesting, something about the way that work is set up in our economy makes it suck. When we make food for someone or ring up their groceries or do whatever it is that we do, something is lost in that action. The service we provide loses its real value and is transformed into a dollar sign. It is no longer valuable because it is useful, but because it can be exchanged for money within a market. To top it all off, every day that we go to work we are being robbed. By who, you might ask? By our bosses and managers; by the corporate executives who get rich just for making decisions and the stockholders who get rich just for being rich. When we, the workers, make or do something at work we produce something that is valuable to society. People pay for our work, but this revenue is all gathered up by the company that we work for. They pay off any necessary expenses and buy new resources or products to sell. Then they give us a fraction of the remaining money as our wage (salaries are just steady wages). They accumulate the rest as profit, invest that somewhere, and make even more profit. So if you can, don’t work. If you have to work, don’t work too hard. Do something else while on the clock. Forget to ring-up some items for a customer. Slow the pace of your work. Steal stuff.

In the end, you’re stealing from thieves.


YOU

ARE THE

“if voting actually changed anything... they’d make it illegal”

TARGET AUDIENCE The Spectacle of Politics says: Look at me! I’m just like you!

They seem to be thinking the same thoughts, the same ideas... “This economy sucks! let’s do something about it!” (Insert Promise Here) ...but nothing concrete ever materializes. This last election proves that we’ve been duped yet again.

How’s HOPE and CHANGE working for us now?

everyone around you is EXTREMELY fascinating. like waaaay more then Obama or Justin Bieber. get to know them for a brief moment. Seriously. Have you ever heard this from an older relative or your parents? “Oh you’re just going through your idealistic phase. You’ll grow out of it eventually.”

You don’t have to take that shit.

Really. You don’t. Whatever ignites you, your passions, your dreams,

never stop chasing them If you do, everything slips away. Then you’ll wake up one day... and wonder what the fuck happened.

Time Flies.

Every day is a battle, Every night is an adventure.

What are you fighting for?

It’s nothing new. Obama isn’t to blame. He just happens to the best and the most recent.

Nothing ever changes; just the times and the faces. As voting hysteria sets in yet again, ask yourself this: “How does political and social change actually happen? Do politicians actually DO anything?”

There are no tricks to be found when passing through reality to make living in this world any easier. Just truths, yet it is these truths that have eluded us. Why? It is because we choose not to live through the truths. We live, instead, through what we perceive to be right. It is this Righteousness we follow, that has fooled us all. The truths stem from those things which cannot be avoided or escaped. They are permanent fixtures in our realities. Why we choose not to acknowledge these elements, why we choose not to build relations with them, is the core problem with our generation. For to share commonalities with one another, to have dreams and visions that come from a common root, goes against the poisonous train-of-thought; that if we do not stand alone, if we are aided, our value (both by Self, and by others) is diminished. We must eradicate this train of thought, we must go through the arduous task of deconstructing, that which we have socially constructed. It is time to enter an era of Collective Conscious. Through this Collective Conscious, we will surmount the antagonizing elements that stir our emotions so violently. Separating and tearing at our peaceful bonds with one another by means

We are constantly looking for a way to distract ourselves from this strange and beautiful existence we find ourselves in.

of the most trivial matter.

We must learn to embrace our shadows, those fickle creatures that embrace our every step. There can be no more fear when finding one’s self in a reflection provided by the monuments and things we have created.

It is time to put down our arms which we have waved anxiously, at one another, ready for a certain attack. This arms race, this conflict between the curious, the unsure, the terrified, the strong, the stoic, the merry, and all those that our enveloped by the

must end. emotional turbulence of life We must find resolve, and find unity under the Questions that linger often at our youthful sides. Perhaps then, we find the path to live in Truth, the path we set out upon at birth and since then have been constantly thrown off course.


MAKE EVERYDAY A HOLIDAY; no really... find a reason to celebrate EVERY SINGLE DAY. don’t take any of the rules seriously on this campus. especially concerning rules about posting fliers. You may be wondering why the authors of this are advocating for the breaking of a campus rule; well its a rather simple explanation. You see, this school has a horrendous problem with communication. Nobody knows ANYTHING about what is actually going on at this campus. Most of the time, the really cool events have a low attendence because nobody saw the fliers or advertising. OR the bulletin boards and our email inboxes are overstuffed with crap. Why is this? Well, our housing department decided to make rather ludicrous rules about posting fliers up in the dorms/ suites: must be laminated, must get approved beforehand, must be in designated areas, must be this. must be that. Honestly, who has the time to go through a week-long process to simply have PERMISSION to post a flier up? Fuck that. It’s a joke. really. So if you have something to say. Just post it up. Get some blue tape and post that shit up; Anywhere. Post criticisms of other fliers. post your own events. post nonofficial events. Because honestly, when we walk around this campus, we feel like we are in a sterile corporate sweatshop. the fluorescent lights burn our eyes. Our shoes squeak on the tile floors. This school feels more like a factory. So kids, get your wheatpaste ready and plaster the school in your OWN art. Your OWN words. Your OWN thoughts. We payed for this university, and WE will decide how we use OUR public space.

Screw the makeup industry.

Screw the commercials and the ads designed to make me feel uncomfortable about how I look. Screw increasing trends in plastic surgery. This is my face, not a mask. This is a human body, not a landfill. Most of the beauty products sold in America can’t even pass health regulations in other countries. The FDA only requires a small percentage of the thousand of chemicals found in common beauty products to be tested. Once those elite few are deemed safe, all their toxic friends are able to sneak through the back door of the party that is your face. Skin is the largest organ and it allows for certain substances to enter directly into your body. So many pollutants enter the body without your approval, why would you knowingly contaminate your body more just for vanity reasons? Your eyelashes look fine. Your hair will still smell nice. Your skin is like that from the toxins you put on it everyday. Half the ingredients in these products are just there to comfort you psychologically. We associate shiny shampoo to shiny hair. Thick mascara to thick eyelashes. We think we have all the tips and tricks to survive, but really it’s just gimmicks. It’s capitalist games used to make you feel insecure and feel safe spending money on problems YOU DON’T HAVE! In fact, most of the products do more harm than good. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then why listen to an industry that only wants money? It’s primary goal is to make you feel bad about yourself so they make money because you think it’ll help “correct” the “problem”. Homemade products are better, but that’s not the underlying concern. People are perfect the way they were born. There are better ways to spend time, money, and efforts than trying to change who you really are or just who you appear to be.


will we do what we’re told until the day that we’re sold or will we raise our voices and make alternative choices will we close our eyes will we fall for those lies

d or will we make the conclusion ule r that this life is a delusion be o ols t do we sit in the saddle t o an of f w or are we just cattle l n’t dfu acceptance is surrender do han we a vile vicious and slander by


Self-Portrait of a Student

when I go to parties, I see all the beautiful people around me, I wonder, what is possible? I’m swimming in a sea of talent wading between photographers and poets, writers and lovers, thinkers and performers, we each have our strengths

sometimes I feel conflicted: the pace of everyday life, everquickening, rarely allows enough time for growth, for creativity instead we schedule pleasure and drown our passions in that sweet nectar a welcome distraction thinkin’ damn I’ve earned it

if only we had the time to express ourselves. instead our passion still sits on the shelves

liquid courage they say i’m not sure if I like it this way

it’s that time of the semester again.

where all of our professors conspire to give projects and papers due at the same time. Nobody can concentrate at home, so we all converge on the library. At every desk sits headphone wearing drones, faintly illuminated by the soft glow of their laptops. A quick glance tells me that they’re wondering what to post for their status update. I softly chuckle to myself as I sit down and habitually open up facebook. It’s my friend’s birthday facebook tells me. I reply to an old high school friend from back home that I never get to see. Facebook helps me stay in touch with people, I tell myself. Why did I come to the library again? Oh yea. I check my school email. It’s full of event invitations too. It seems like everything is always happening, but nothing ever changes. I finally get around to checking my homework assignment on iLearn. Two essays, two articles to read by tomorrow. My professor uploaded a broken link. Great. Apparently nobody dragged the teacher through CST 101. They’re the ones who really need it. The rhythm of student life is a bit like a broken record, constantly repeating the same old cadence: Work, School, Play. Party until the dawn of day. This is the “best four years of your life” they say. Is it true? Because if I had it my way, I wouldn’t be in debt several thousand dollars and I wouldn’t have to work 30-40 hours a week just to get by. I’m pretty sick of selling my soul to the service industry for mininum wage. No wonder I come home and watch YouTube videos, smoke weed and shoot the shit with my friends. After bullshitting all day at work and school, I gotta catch some kind of enjoyment before I pass the fuck out. And yet somehow, everybody thinks this lifestyle is OK. I mean, we all know that the North American lifestyle is destroying the planet and we are (seemingly) doing everything we can to curb and control ourselves into sustainability. But maybe if we actually had the time, and the energy to commit, then something meaningful might get accomplished. These systems of time confine us within their framework, not allowing true growth and creativity to flourish. Perhaps we should be questioning this self-imposed pace....this RACE, at which we are constantly running. Because I’m out of breath. It’s halfway through the semester, and I want it to be over already. Maybe it’s about time we take a break. A break from the system.

We are too young, we cannot wait any longer...


Complain if you want, but Your life really is fucking Beautiful. jagged and broken, and beautiful. the undignified tacky mosaic made of broken pieces of priceless artifacts at a flea market. It’s not the tidy little portrait we create for each another or the little trinkets we consume or the Hallmark catchphrases that drip like morphine. The beauty of life is about sensation, not numbness

It’s not the the hallucination of the brilliant colors we paint over the face of a young politician. It’s not even the mythology he represents, savior or anticrist. Doesn’t matter, that’s not the beauty I’m talkin about.

He really does represent something inspiring, but the beauty of life is in the perfectly harmonious world we saw that we could have had and the devastating compromises we make one by one and the gut wrenching heartbreak we feel

as we watch our unborn Utopia die.

That sobering moment when we open our red puffy eyes the morning after a storm. The gray, indifferent skies fill them with light.

We are still here.

we can still hear the cacophony. we can still see the humor in the slow, grinding mediocrity of life in all its beauty.


If you don’t like This zine.

great.

tell us why. We’re curious. Really. Or even better: send us your own submission. Guerrillathink@gmail.com guerrillathink.wordpress.com

As cliche as this line is...We really mean it when we say: “For the People. By The People” This Zine was a collaboration between many people all over California. Featuring Art, Poetry and other submissions from Stockton, Visalia, Berkeley, Monterey Bay, Santa Cruz, and of course: CSUMB.

Progress-

Forward.....

into what?

We’re now at full speed And no one’s at the wheel


Zine #2: The Call