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What are the options then?
Exactly like, when land was privatised, there were still land-commons. This is the parallel for the intellectual domain, for the biodiversity domain. Like not all land was private property, not all knowledge can allowed to become private property. Not all seeds, not all medicinal plants can allowed to become private property. It is our right to defend the commons. In the end, it would mean defending biodiversity as a community resource – or as a commons – which means it’s not available for grabs. It is available freely to the community, but not to outsiders. Outside commercial interests and the large corporations that are coming in and pirating and prospecting, have to take permission exactly like when you enter someone’s commons you’ve to take permission not of an individual, but of the whole village community.

Not nit not nit no not
Nit nit folly bololey
Alifi my larder

JAZZ

Pai e mãe
ouro de mina
Coração
desejo e sina
Tudo mais
pura rotina
jazz
Tocarei seu nome
prá poder falar de amor
Minha princesa
art-nouveau
Da natureza
tudo o mais
Pura beleza
jazz
A luz de um grande prazer
é irremediável neon
Quando o grito do prazer açoitar
o ar, reveillon

O luar
estrela do mar
O sol e o dom
quiçá
um dia a fúria
Desse front virá lapidar
O sonho até gerar o som
Como querer caetanear
o que há de bom
O luar
estrela do mar
O sol e o dom
quiçá
um dia a fúria
Desse front virá lapidar
O sonho até gerar o som
Como querer caetanear
o que há de bom.

It’s the end of the world as we know it (and I feel fine).

In the temple courts he found men selling cattle, sheep and doves, and others sitting at tables exchanging money. So he made a whip out of cords, and drove all from the temple area, both sheep and cattle; he scattered the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. To those who sold doves he said, “Get these out of here! How dare you turn my father’s house into a market”!

The really good idea is always traceable back quite a long way, often to a not very good idea which sparked off another idea that was only slightly better, which somebody else misunderstood in such a way that they then said something which was really rather interesting.

History teaches us that in asymmetric warfare the most heavily armed do not always win.

from the “Declaration of the Independence of Cyberspace”
Davos, Switzerland
February 8, 1996

“Governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed. You have neither solicited nor received ours. We did not invite you. You do not know us, nor do you know our world. Cyberspace does not lie within your borders. Do not think that you can build it, as though it were a public construction project. You cannot. It is an act of nature and it grows itself through our collective actions”.

I like only this part because the whole declaration resembles this one too much for my taste… ehm, because I fear that liberty can’t be a result of self-determination... I cannot self-determine myself.

Barlow wrote: “Governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed”, and that would be right because it should mean that power can’t be self-determined.

On the other hand, I fear that the sentence “our identities have no bodies” sounds a bit incompatible…

Why isn’t everyone as scared as we are?

(This is a song from Lou Reed speaking of a modern Cinderella… that is a clear example of a modern myth about illusory ways of social ascent…)

ALL TOMORROW’S PARTIES

_And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrow’s parties
A hand-me-down dress from who knows where
To all tomorrow’s parties

And where will she go and what shall she do
When midnight comes around
She’ll turn once more to Sunday’s clown
And cry behind the door

And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrow’s parties
Why silks and linens of yesterday’s gowns
To all tomorrow’s parties

And what will she do with Thursday’s rags
When Monday comes around
She’ll turn once more to Sunday’s clown
And cry behind the door

And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrow’s parties
For Thursday’s child is Sunday’s clown
For whom none will go mourning

A blackened shroud, a hand-me-down gown
Of rags and silks, a costume
Fit for one who sits and cries
For all tomorrow’s parties_