From 1977 Notebook

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Guerrilla Business Principles

avoidance (illegible)
regards ‘t (illegible) endly, but formidable, opponent
or obstacle (illegible)
validates the individual; works in terms of the individual
thus working in the face of death and dust changes
all work related to soul growth

corporation: traditional business structuring
corporation does not die, therefore
has no soul, or possibility of growing a soul, therefore
knows no morality and is
defined only by the accumulation of wealth and power
individual serves his thrust –
a mechanical monster crunching tender & writing lives

2 fallacies of traditional business structuring

- we are on a globe, this planet
unlimited growth as a model is unacceptable
- the USA has profits to be won in business pursuits
because it is shortchanging 3rd world producers

Business guerrillas must aim at holistic approaches
Minimally destructive to environment, and approaching a model the global citizen might follow.

With respect to USA-3Rd World business, a nom- oppressive model must be pursued.

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These sounds are swarming swarming
And smoke puffs out of the heart of these times
Who can speak to me of these moments?
Read for me these signs?

Taxco El Viejo and Tecalpulco

The double center of the Via Taxco complex are the twin pueblos Tecalpulco and Taxco El Viejo. The former upon a hilltop resplendent mosaic dome of it’s church visible from afar, the latter below along the river bank built on the grounds of colonial hacienda San Juan Bautista. In both towns nearly every household is dedicated to some extent to work with metals and the production of inexpensive jewelry of abalone shell.

Taxco El Viejo is especially rich in beauty. A more beautiful village I could not imagine. Surrounded by extraordinary Venusian hills. In September they are covered with flowering corn. Expertly built walls invite the eye. Some building walls entirely of stone. Organic texturing. Rustic lanes wind. They will laugh when you ask directions and one of the children to show. A gay people. A joking people. Hardworking folk in their backporch shops soldering buckles or abalone pigeons. Cool in the heart of the day under tree boughs working Big markets. Big business. Big buyers from the USA. From Washington (they tell me). From Floreeda. And beautiful lines of shadows. Light textures that beggar description, invite poetry. The village is goodly sized. 600 heads of households I am told. Thriving in the gentle roll of the countryside there seems no real center only winding paths from happy street to happy street. They tell me there are women to spare. That I would be happy here. There is something secret here, something too rich. Like a beauty too fully defined. To leave my highway find a life amidst this enchantment. To wander among these rustic paths . To work hard forever. A dream at the moment of waking. Balanced between two worlds. Tasting what has already gone beyond.