Datacide Nine second edition out NOW

datacide nine 2014 reprint

Right on time for the Radical Bookfair we re-publish Datacide Nine from 2006! The new edition contains all original texts, but has been thoroughly proof read and newly laid out.

We’re happy to have this long deleted issue back in print; it features some of the most read articles on the datacide web site that are still relevant and of interest today. The original editorial reflects the particular historical situation in which the issue originally appeared: The repression against Teknivals as well as the particular (wider) political situations, while technological developments and economic problems are covered in passing. Out of the ensuing crisis of the already completely marginalized counter culture developed the desire to start something new, and we announced that Datacide Ten would be the last issue. This has of course not been the case. Instead, we felt re-invigorated enough after the 2008 issue of Datacide Ten and the accompanying conference to keep going, and the last few years have seen a consolidation of our release schedule and an expansion in size and content.

Only 100 copies are being printed, of which about 80 will be for sale. There may or may not be further reprints, so best order your copy now! Price is EUR 5.00 including world wide shipping.

If you are a subscriber and would like to have Datacide 9 included in your subscription, please send a mail! The reprint is not automatically sent to subscribers, as they may already have the original edition.

To purchase please send EUR 5.00 via paypal to info ( at ) datacide-magazine.com , or order it through the PRAXIS STORE.

Shared Vertigo

S H A R E D V E R T I G O

You are here and so am I

Maybe millions of people go by

But they all dissapear from view

And I only have eyes for you

Flamingos

I killed my father

I ate human flesh

I quiver with joy

Pier Paolo Pasolini

It’s me. I soured1 myself. I spoke too soon

I spoke for you. I sought to impose my tempo.

I detuned my song from fear. I bittered.

I jealoused in the third wound. I was alone.

I wanted acceptance. I succumbed to fashion.

I repressed a history of sadness. I retracted.

I couldn’t come through. I became enwrapped

in nostalgia. I had only an illusory power.

How many of them: intellectual illusions”2 [Read more →]

Useless Ease

 

Telly Makes Us

 

The gridded tower on Winter Hill

caps a corncob of narrative command.

The seemingly benign tones tinkle

out the acceptance and the sacrifice

of what it is to want to want this way.

To get to the facts, the truth, the

reasons-behind is only a means of

making us the square root of quantity.

Those that have arrived here to bite

our ears with dulcet skittishness

are only here to temporalise hell.

They are patented to arrive at this knoll

of mock development and arrayed in

a set series of serried limbos they

fund a repugnant dumb smugness.

 

 

[Read more →]