Uneditedmedia's blog
Paraphased Timeline of all Yuct Ne Senxiymetkwe Camp posts
Posts from encampment monitoring Mt. Polley spill.
Fargo, North Dakota and Moorheed Minnesota “Stand With Ferguson & Mike Brown: End Police Brutality”
Posted to uneditedmedia.com Fargo, North Dakota and Moorheed Minnesota “Stand With Ferguson & Mike Brown: End Police Brutality” On August 19th, 2014, a week and a half after the protests in Ferguson began, 70 people stood on a bridge connecting Moorhead, MN, to Fargo, ND, at #solidarity rally for Micheal Brown. The held signs some reading: “I …
We Once had a Dream Called Occupy Wall Street #9
Alright, so this is the second part of the August 2nd, 2011 debt default/assembly. Before getting into that, I wanted to let folks know I recently met with a web developer to run some ideas by him to build a webpage. Just playing with ideas, you know.. I can probably say that’s what OWS might have been about…playing with ideas-plural. Like some sloppy idea exchange that turned into idolatry. I’m also sick, so not really feeling writing this, but don’t know what else to do–Soooo..
August 2nd, 2011 part duex,
So, after epic screaming battles between the rally and assembly folks, an assembly started to take place at the same time as the rally. This went completely counter to the schedule that wasn’t widely shared. There was an allocated time and space for both, but plans go as they do, and fell apart. I didn’t really get to be part of the first general assembly, because I was busy trying to deflect white shirts. Remember, the white shirts, the ones who get to give commands. Anyway, they don’t like when a group of people sit together. So, when they saw about 20 or so people break off and sit in a circle, they got really curious.
I walked up to a white shirt. “Hey! How are you? I’m the police liaison and wanted to make sure that I was available for any questions.”
He looked at me and waved his arm to the people sitting down,
“What are they doing?”
I looked over at them, back to the white shirt and read the little name tag on his chest-Winski,
We Once had a Dream Called Occupy Wall Street #8
I can’t remember getting up, or getting ready to go, but I remember getting there. The rally was set at bowling green park. You know, the park with the big wall street bull pictured on the flyer? I arrived to the rally and general assembly just in time to see the rally folks setting up this tiny PA. They had a line of their speakers next to the mic. I went into police liaison mode, and tried to check in with my co-police liaison. We’d chosen two at that meeting, and I was little rusty.
Storytime w/E & L
“Unedited Media presents”Storytime w/E&L Unedited Media’s getting ready to head back to Utah to help conduct Tactical Media trainings at the permanent protest encampment next to the first Tar Sands Mines in the United States and trying to raise $1000 to support themselves and other media folks to travel.
Monday June 7th, at 3:00pm-9pm
on: http://www.ustream.tv/channel/uneditedmedia
Facebook Event! Who are E &L?They’re two …
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We Once had a Dream Called Occupy Wall Street #7
Okay, ya’ll, I just spent a little bit of time going over some notes, having some conversations, and scanning some other stuff that came out of that meeting for Aug 2nd. I volunteered to be a police liaison. I should mention that, because it’ll be a big part of post about August 2nd . Also, Isham was making the flyer, and people were waiting on the flyer so they could do outreach. I’d say it’s around July 27th, 2011 now. So, we have about 4 days until the Rally/General Assembly. I also wanted to state that this blog is an idea, that as it progresses, it will be expanded on. I plan on building in an optional user experience that goes past reading. I want the reader to choose if they just read the blog, or if they interact with it, or even if they make suggestions that maybe be entered into the blog. I’m writing a novel. That’s the end plan, but I want to get to that end of the novel with you. So, in a way, we’re going to write a novel together. The first thing I want to do is move this blog off wordpress and onto it’s own website. I own the domains, but not the host space. I guess? Where’s a good place to go? Ideas?
World Cup & the New Brasilian Insurrection – by Atchu
Second Annual Unedited Media Fundraising Rock Show Extravaganza!
Back Stage at the Empire Arts Center
Live music featuring
*the alleles*
Amanda Panic
Let’s Be FrEnemies
plus (possibly) one more TBD
Unedited Media Presentation by Lorenzo Serna
Donate Online here!
We Once had A Dream Called Occupy Wall Street #6
We Once had a Dream Called Occupy Wall Street #6:
I’m looking back, you know? Sometimes it’s clear, and sometimes, the haze settles on a little too thick two recall. The past, though, the recalling of it keeps following me. So I feel I need to keep working on this, even if I never finish it. First, the person who suggested the General Assembly, wasn’t named John, he was named Isham. I recently got the “Okay” to use his name, and by recently, I mean months ago. Now, I want to note that all the important people of OWS were not at that meeting. By important I mean most of the self-described founders, and makers, every book seller—the grabers, micahs, justine’s, and justins. Everyone who seemingly catapulted themselves into some sort of notoriety wasn’t at that meeting. And maybe that doesn’t matter. I don’t think a meeting starts a movement, shit I don’t even think the internet starts a movement. I sort of always fall back to the people, and at least at that time, the people, weren’t those people.
The History of the Fighting Sioux Nickname
I Am Not From Mandaree, North Dakota
Liberation Day 2014: Lakota Resistance to the KXL Pipeline
Come and take a walk with me…
Originally Posted on www.uneditedmedia.com
Come and Take a Walk with Me
Finally, I bent over and picked a sprig of sage – whose ancestors in 1890 had been nourished by the blood of Red babies, ripped from their mothers dying grasp and bayonetted by the evil ones – As I washed myself with that sacred herb I became cold in my determination and cleansed of fear. I looked for Big Foot and YellowBird in the darkness and I said aloud —
”We are back my relations, we are home”. Hoka-Hey
Unmitigated Disaster: A report from the oil wastes.
Posted on www.uneditedmedia.com
The Bakken oil boom in North Dakota came into sharp focus on Decemeber 30th, 2013 when a train carrying volatile bakken crude derailed and exploded near Cassleton, North Dakota. The story made national and world news, matching recent North Dakota headlines ranging from the recent uncovered not publicly disclosed 300 oils spills to a rise in sex trafficking. Now, as the fallout from the latest oil disaster clears in North Dakota, it is becoming increasingly difficult to hide the consequences of the oil industry’s effect on North Dakota’s land, air, and communities.
On Eviction Night
On the night of the eviction. I had left a spokes council to head back to Global Revolution studios. The streets looked wet, and I called a good friend of mine form back home. After 3 months of Occupy Wall Street, most of my personal relationships were frayed, and I had been trying to mend my relationships old friends not in NYC. As I walked I saw lines of NYPD vans stream past me towards the park. It wasn’t unusual, until I noticed that all the vans were full. Each van had cops pressed shoulder to shoulder in them.
I told my friend I had to go and called back to the park to advise members of the media team what I had seen. They told me everything seemed fine back at the park, but I decided not to go to the studio and jumped a train to Liberty…just in case. When I arrived at the park it was cool. The air brisk, and the usual wanderings of people milling, people had taken to coming into the park later and later, some not even staying at all as the temperatures dropped. I checked in with the media team I was working with and they reported nothing unusual. I relaxed. Every night was paranoia. Every night was our last night.
Tesoro refuses to answer any questions about Tioga Oil Spill
They Call it Liquid Genocide
A story about perspective on childhood:
A friend I’ve known for over a decade, whose indigenous to the lands I now call home, saw this high school kid fall off his bicycle. The kid fell backwards, and his helmet slipped towards his nose. My friend, whose recent birthday inched him towards forty, said he watched the EMT’s lift this teenager into an ambulance and hoped he was ok. Later we learned the kid died, and this big brown man’s voice quivered, “Oh no,” He tipped against the wall and started sobbing. He wept at this complete strangers death. I watched unsure of how to react and just told him I was there for him. A few hours later he walked up and hugged me, said, “I’m sorry. Where I’m from, so many young people die.”
Utah Canyon County Action Camp
The action camp call was simple, a camp to come and learn the skills in nonviolent direct action(NVDA) to shut down the first tar sands mine in the United States. The camp did as it set out to do. The action stopped all work on the mine site . It was so successful that US Oil Sands, the company pushing to develop the mining site, reported a 13% loss of their stock price on the day of the action. People laid their bodies in front of the machinery to prevent them from carving out the Earth. The action itself was the culmination of trainings performed at the action camp that went above and beyond blockade trainings.
The buildup started at the Utah Canyon Country Action Camp. The nearest town to the camp (pop 863) was famous for its melons, Green River’s esteem for these melons is so high that the town holds an annual event to celebrate them. The camp was stationed at a desert cut open by the Green River. The terrain of sand, heat, and rock formations is so breathtaking that every local mentioned it to us.
They call it Liquid Genocide.
posted on www.uneditedmedia.com
A story about perspective on childhood:
A friend I’ve known for over a decade, whose indigenous to the lands I now call home, saw this high school kid fall off his bicycle. The kid fell backwards, and his helmet slipped towards his nose. My friend, whose recent birthday inched him towards forty, said he watched the EMT’s lift this teenager into an ambulance and hoped he was ok. Later we learned the kid died, and this big brown man’s voice quivered, “Oh no,” He tipped against the wall and started sobbing. He wept at this complete strangers death. I watched unsure of how to react and just told him I was there for him. A few hours later he walked up and hugged me, said, “I’m sorry. Where I’m from, so many young people die.”
