I put too much dressing in this salad.

I don't know if this is the sickest I've ever been, but it is the most painful shit, in some cases literally as you will read, that I've ever gone through.

Heat flashes followed by chills, over and over. Waking up in the middle of the night covered in sweat all the time, it's dripping constantly from my hair for five minutes. I'm sleeping with five towels at by bedside to switch through throughout the night.

Stuck in Los Angeles, could've got to Sabrina's house in Hollywood until I got better, but decided to try and make the six hour drive home because it'd be more comfortable and my Dad would be able to take care of me... right?

Six hours took eight. Stopped at every god awful cow town along I-5 on the way because of diarrhea. At this point it wasn't as bad as before, it's not so much like I'm pissing out my anus anymore. Switching the AC from heat to cold every five minutes. Neck is unbelievably sore, have to pivot on my shoulders to check blind spots.

I made it home, and the only benefit was the comfort of having my own seclusion to hermit in until it's all over. There were unfortunately many fucking drawbacks.

The headaches and the stomach pains had to be the worst part of this whole ordeal. Every time I stood up I'd grip my stomach and head, bracing the pain. In the back of my mind I felt there stood someone telling me to try and pat and rub at the same time.

Laying down always quite a joyride. I had to lay down to stop my headache, but every time I repositioned my stomach it would hurt like fucking hell for about twenty seconds. Neck hurting and need to roll over? Here comes twenty seconds of agony. Got diarrhea and need to go to the bathroom? Here comes twenty seconds of agony standing up, and twenty more to lay back down. New towels because the one I'm laying on are soaked, twenty + twenty. Fucking hell.

One time the pain got so bad that I grew nauseous and puked. The puking put pressure on the other end of my digestive tract, and I shit myself.

I view this whole thing as spending one week in the fetal position, both figuratively and metaphorically. I think now I am mostly better. I still have all the symptoms, but they are all much, much less intense. The last REAL annoyance is every time I go to the bathroom to deal with a more solid form of diarrhea it's mentally unbearable. It's like... my brain is reacting to how it would in pain, but there is no pain. Or like, when there's some annoying sound going on and you just can't take it anymore. Imagine that, but there's no sound. Eventually it passes and I feel normal, but fuck...

Redlands started yesterday. Bowling is such a horribly stupid fucking thing. Maggots are living in my intestines. I put too much dressing in this salad. My life is fucking miserable.

My Imaginary Friend.

At age five I had an imaginary friend. Looking back now it had a lot to do with our neighborhood having no kids my age to relate to and me just feeling generally peer-lonely. He took the shape of a cat humanoid, weird thing and I called him Charta. We did a lot together. One time in particular he crawled along the walls around the house while I chased him with one of those spider web remover poles.

My parents knew something was up. From their perspective I spent a lot of time talking to myself. At first it wasn't a big deal, but as I grew comfortable with them knowing about Charta I began to bring him into their lives as well. Sitting at the dinner table with him, going to the grocery store and asking him what kind of cereal to buy (he loved Fruity Pebbles), sleeping at night and scaring me with ghost stories. Things like that.

I heard my parents fighting one night. Charta worried and spent the night scared. In the morning my mom took me to see a therapist, though she called it a "feelings doctor".

The feelings doctor's name was Cogrip. My mom stayed in the waiting room while he took me into a backroom where there were lots of toys and I played for hours. Cogrip watched me from the corner of the room during our session and kept asking me if I was hot and wanted to take my shirt off.

On the way home my mom asked what day I wanted to go back. I liked the toys a lot, but Cogrip gave me the creeps. I couldn't directly process this at the time, but instinctively I knew it. The toys weren't so important to me because I had Charta. I told my mom never. She said I had to go back sometime this week. I told her Charta's name was actually Jesus.

I never saw Cogrip or Charta again.

Bootstraps.

One day at age six or seven I sat in the backseat of my Dad's car while we drove somewhere. I don't remember where, but we didn't drive to the movies, for ice cream, or to go shopping. We were poor, and our car symbolized that with its balding tires, chipped paint, and colors of the interior dull and faded.

I do remember coming up to a red light and a young business man stopped next to us in his nice car all silver, sleek, fast. My Dad pointed at him while saying, "You see that man right there? That's what happens if you work hard, start your own business. You get nice things, nice cars, a nice house. That can be you if you do that too." Using the kind of intuition and creative thinking that I still had because years and years of television hadn't sucked it out of me yet I responded, "Well then what happened to you Dad? If it's that easy and simple... why are you not him?"

Plans Made To Smash Window

Yesterday, a group of black clad anarchists gathered together under the cover of night to make plans of breaking a window, or a whole bunch of them. The targets planned to be hit included Chase Bank, Wells Fargo, every police station, the IMF, Noam Chomsky's house, and a Pizza Hut. The projected damages would have ranged anywhere between $20 to $50,000,000,000 if the attacks had actually occurred. Several cigarettes (valued at a cost of approximately 3 dollars) were also torched in the discussions, against their collective house's “no smoking inside, unless it's weed” rule. The attack was nearly identical to hundreds of others imagined, proposed, bottomlined and forgotten in the same vicinity over the last few years. This was also the same gang of insurgents whose fierce passionate discussions had forced Merrill Lynch into bankruptcy and scared President George W. Bush into fleeing the capitol in early However this discussion escalated the recent string of imaginary retributions, because Blockbuster Video was added to the drawing board of potential spots to make social war on and because the cell was able to use nonverbal signals to indicate that they should take the batteries out of their cell phone, giving the pigs no chance to see this incendiary conversation coming. [OMG I was at that meeting!!!]

The plans fell through when the affinity group ran out of coffee and someone saw a police car on the bike ride to the store to get more coffee. Though the full force of their blow was restrained by this brutal state repression, this imaginary action was a lot more rad than every action that has actually occurred (outside of Greece) in years. The cadre celebrated how awesome they are at making up badass ideas over a Doctor Who marathon on SyFy over 40s and fell asleep to a CD playing NWA's “Fuck Tha Police” on repeat, letting the whole night echo with raw anti-state rage.

A pair of glasses were actually broken a few hours later when one of our comrades rolled over in their sleep, crushing them and making a tangible blow against one of the most alienating manifestations of the totality. We all made it away from the discussion safe and uncaptured, free to talk about fighting another day. The state whimpered away to nurse its wounds, we talked about maybe dumpster diving upon waking up at 2 PM, and in our imaginations we will smash even more windows tonight... or maybe even draw some circle A's in sidewalk chalk, in the real world. To the pacifists, snitches, cops, boring leftists and other collective houses that have been reading our minds: GTFO, cause we're down as fuck around here and we're planning to burn it all down. Till all pictures of prisons have flames drawn on them, we'll only rest eight hours a day. And then we'll dream of burning more shit down. We are the birds of the coming storm, and we promise it's coming sometime in the next few decades

Solidarity with the Asheville 11, Conspiracy Cells of Fire, Oscar Grant, Tortuga, Eric McDavid, all the normal people that go to jail for badass shit like robbing banks and counterfitting money and everyone that drank themselves to sleep tonight.

-some imaginary insurgents

Five Parts to a Quest.

A quest has five parts to it: the questor, the stated reason for going on the quest, the holy grail, trials and challenges to face, and the real reason for going on the quest.

The questor is usually young, inexperienced, and has a lot to learn. The stated reason for going on the quest is usually tied into the Holy Grail. The trials and challenges are typically dragons, evil knights, and/or wonderful princesses. The real reason for going on the quest is almost always for self-improvement and self-knowledge.

---

I'm seventeen years old and I'm living in a small town just outside of Memphis. My mom is yelling at me that I need to go to the store and buy some bread. I don't even have a car, I have to ride my bike.

On my way to the store there is a German Shepard running wild in the street, foaming at his mouth. I stop and stare at him, watching as he runs back and fourth through peoples lawns, chewing on plants, and digging in lawns. He jerks his head towards me and growls softly. Suddenly he's sprinting full on at me. Instincts take over and I'm riding as fast as I can in the opposite direction without even thinking about it. His feet are scampering just yards behind me. I'm gaining speed and the sounds of his barking and growling grow distant, but my heart beats just as loud.

Mel is in the market parking lot with James, sitting in his new car. The new car is unknown to me, but it looks fast... and expensive. Mel is the girl of my dreams, what is she doing with him? James is from a rich family and has never had to work for anything. I hate James for it. I'm not paying attention to what I'm doing and a speed bump takes advantage of that as I fall to the ground. Mel and James saw the whole thing and are laughing at me. My wrist hurts, but I ignore it. I get up, walk over to the entrance, lean my bike against the wall, and go inside. They're still laughing at me.

Even though this market is small, it seems like there's endless aisles in it. Aisle eleven is where I need to go down to buy some bread, but I'm too busy realizing that there's nothing left for me in this small town. I'm getting out and leaving. Tomorrow.

If A Tree Falls

I watched this documentary on Netflix last night titled, "If A Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front". Earth Liberation Front (ELF) is the collective name for autonomous individuals or covert cells who engage in economic sabotage and the destruction of private property to stop the exploitation and destruction of the environment, also known as a form of direct action. The documentary follows one cell in Oregon from their actions all the way to their initial arrest and later prosecution. It demonstrates how the police were able to bluff, lie, and be able to coerce one member into revealing and incriminating the rest of his cell. This gave police an upper hand into being able to coerce many more cell members into exposing and incriminating each other. To put this into an example, police would go to one member and say, "So and so told us this about you. You are going to go to jail for a long long time unless you give me information about so and so."

Three things stood out to me in this movie which I'm going to write about: the power of direct action, the lack of courage, intuition, and intelligence amongst the cell members, and the government using their prosecution to claim a victory on domestic terrorism.

The power of direct action when compared to picket line protest, civil disobedience, and working with public officials is astounding. Wild horses were being gathered up on government owned lands and shipped to this company's slaughterhouse to be killed and sold off. Citizens protested, wrote public officials, and did nonviolent civil disobedience to try and make it stop for ten years, to no avail. Late one night, four members of ELF set off fire bombs and burned the slaughterhouse to the ground. The company never recovered from this and the slaughtering of wild horses stopped. What masses of people had been trying to achieve for ten years was accomplished by four members of ELF in just a few hours.

The actions of this cell spread and inspired others. By 2010 there were ~1,200 ELF direct actions and not a single person was injured or killed. The cell eventually disbanded after an action based on incorrect information burned down the property of an innocent company. Three years went by and the police caught whim of one of the cell's members, Jake Ferguson, stealing a truck on the night of one action. They thought this was strange and called him in for questioning using a petty crime he had committed as the cause.

During the questioning the police appealed to Ferguson's emotions as well as made subtle threats about where his life would end up because they could send him to prison for the rest of his life for his involvement with ELF unless he cooperated. The tactics the police used on him worked, and Ferguson agreed to fully cooperate with the police's wishes. This meant Ferguson would tell them everything he knew, testify in court, and wear a wire while running around the country "accidentally" running into old cell members and getting them to talk about past events and actions. He turned out to be a gold mine because he was the one who really started off as the driving force and mastermind of the cell.

If the police ever tell a person they are going to send them away to prison unless they cooperate, they don't have enough evidence to incriminate at all. The whole point of the deal is to get more information. Reality is not a T.V. show, if police have enough evidence to send someone away to prison they will act on it, not try to gather more. Ferguson should have asked to see the evidence they have, and when they failed to show it, leave the questioning and find a way to covertly inform all his cell members that the police have no evidence and are trying to threaten, bluff, and lie their way to getting one of them to snitch on the others. Ferguson did not do this, instead he chose full cooperation.

Ferguson willing to testify in court against his cell members turned out to not be enough to incriminate them though, so he wore a wire and went all around the country invoking incriminating conversations with old cell members. The film shows Ferguson stating that this was the hardest thing to do and that the police had to mentally pump him up to get him to do this. Ferguson remarks that he had no other choice, he either cooperated with the police or go to jail for life because he had already admitted to doing all these actions.

There is always a choice. Ferguson had to cooperate with the police, but at the same time did not want to go from cell member to cell member gathering incriminating conversations with them. So what does one do? Ferguson should have found a way to alert his fellow cell members that the police had made a deal with him to get them to talk and warned them not to say anything incriminating. The film reenacts Ferguson sitting with David McGowan at a park bench and "reminiscing" about past actions. Ferguson could have had a piece of paper resting on his thigh that read, "Police listening, don't incriminate yourself." This is just one example, each situation would call for something different. The point is Ferguson made no effort to warn his fellow cell members.

At the same time, the cell members were also rather idiotic. After an action, the only time one talks about the details of it are in the immediate debriefing. They should have seen a huge red flag that a cell member, who many haven't spoken to for years, is suddenly around and wanting to talk about past actions. They should have sensed this and warned all their other cell members not to discuss anything with Ferguson.

Even with all the tape recordings provided by Ferguson, the police still didn't have enough evidence. They began offering the same deals to other cell members for lesser sentences and many of them agreed. (See http://earth-liberation-front.org/those_who_cooperated.htm)

The US Government felt this case important because it would allow the destruction of private property to be considered terrorism even though no one got hurt or killed. Those who refused to cooperate with the police ended up serving anywhere from three to thirteen years and being legally labeled as a terrorist and held in a special terrorist prison in Idaho. The US Government then claimed victory on terrorism and masqueraded Ferguson around as several people were put into prisons.

One question needs to be asked and this is it:

If the ELF is the “number one domestic terrorism threat,” if it is “violent” and “dangerous,” and if Ferguson was the lead arsonist of the most destructive ELF cell in U.S. history... how is he walking free? If these activists are truly national security threats, Ferguson, of all people, should be behind bars.

Occupy Oakland: General Strike

I was not in Oakland or at the General Strike. Everything below is a work of fiction and should not be taken literally or acted upon. Due to legal reasons I want everyone to know that the realistic composition of the cartoon My Little Ponies is much more serious and true than the fictitious blog spot I am about to write.

The general strike at Occupy Oakland on November 2nd was a long and eventful day. I am going to write a summary of the days events and then briefly write some random thoughts and analysis.

I urge you not to live vicariously through this post or other media coverage about the event. Go visit and start a dialogue at your local Occupy Movement or put flyers/news articles up all over your neighborhood on a weekly basis.

Summary:

• Total turnout throughout the entire day had to be at least 100,000 people.


• The early morning marches to Well Fargo, Citigroup, Chase, and Bank of America had about 3,000 people and involved people sitting in front of the bank doors for about fifteen minutes and writing "Withdraw Only" on the ATMs before moving to the next bank. Pictures from this march.


• The anti-capitalist march at 2pm saw a black bloc smashing the windows at these banks and Whole Foods (CEO busts unions and fights for corporate healthcare while the local owner threatens workers regularly) while spray painting on them. About 30 people screaming "Non-Violent Protest" were actively attacking the black bloc. The general consensus is the crowd felt vandalism is violent. Video One. Video Two.


• If someone throws a battery to break a window, you shouldn't pick it up after and put it in your pocket. The battery is probably broken and will leak battery acid all over your thigh.
  


• Even though chaotic and unorganized, the march to shut down the port of Oakland (fourth biggest port in U.S.) from 5-8pm was successful. 20,000 people marched to the closest berths to blockade them while a critical mass bike ride of 1,000 people rode to the farthest berths. Helicopter footage.


• On the march back from the port a driver keeps edging forward slowly, someone pounds on his hood, and the driver floors his car ramming several protesters. Footage.


• My hands absolutely reeked of tuna after spending two hours making tuna fish sandwiches for hundreds of people. Some homeless guy said he's been eating better in the past two weeks than he has in years thanks to Occupy Oakland.


• At around 10pm a building is taken over and occupied. A crowd of seven hundred masses outside while music plays, the walls are painted, and barricades are constructed. News that five hundred riot cops are assembling.
  


• Cops slowly work towards the building from three different streets, threatening use of "non-lethal" force (Scott Olsen argues otherwise) if crowd does not disperse. Barricade is set on fire to protect against tear gas and cops fire flash bangs and rubber bullets. Roughly ten protesters respond with rocks and bottles. Cops launch tons more flash bangs and unleash tear gas. Video One.


• I learn from tear gas what it's like to suffocate to death and vinegar on a mask doesn't do shit. My eyes felt like someone was holding a match up to them. Never before have I ever been so happy to have someone squirt creamy white liquid into my eyes. As of now I'm still trying to figure out what I did to warrant being attacked like this by the police. I will make light of the situation by jokingly admitting tear gas is a wonderful way to clear out my sinuses.
  


• Tear gas spreads to the camp, people and kids are waking up in their tents and choking. People with gas masks are collecting rubber bullets to make necklaces exclaiming that there's business opportunities from police brutality.
  


• I take off running as cops come pouring out a nearby alley blockading seventy protesters and shooting flash bangs at them while beating others with batons. Cops shine flashlights on media cameras to blind them. Police injure another vetern during this time by rupturing his spleen.
  


• Entire downtown area is covered with spray paint by this point. Undercover police officer who has been trying for hours to incite the crowd to riot breaks a window at the Men's Warehouse. Someone else breaks a window at a large local coffee chain.
  


• I watch the police line for a bit then head to the camp. There's a lot of fear that the camp is going to get raided tonight. I sleep on a park bench waiting so I can help defend the camp if that happens. Most of the people edging for police confrontation are gone at this point.
  


• Police are mostly gone by 4am and camp is safe for one more day. Some guy approaches me and is acting crazy. He is on crack, has nunchucks, and threatens to kick my ass because I'm wearing all black. Another crack head rolls over and goes back and fourth saying I'm only not getting my ass kicked because cops are nearby and that he's only full of love. Some other girl who isn't on crack says my outfit is really popular and that she's going to help kick my ass because of all the graffiti that I did. One of the crackheads chime in at this point that I'm a member of an Anti-Israel 9/11 Terrorist group and that there's thirty of me in every city. I am pretty scared, but good at dealing with people so I calm the situation and give them all tuna fish sandwiches.
  


• Head home and find a fourteen year old on the corner having an asthma attack at 4:30am from all the tear gas. His face is white even though he's black, can't breathe, can't talk, and his eyes are drooling. I call an ambulance and a firetruck. I tell him to remain calm and focus on his breathing. Paramedics come and save the day.
  


• Twitter feed the following day is full of people discussing how vandalism is violence and how anarchist have no place in Occupy Oakland.
  

Random Thoughts and Analysis:

• Liberal hypocrisy will never cease to astound me. I am just absolutely in awe at why the liberal reactions to the anarchist black bloc are so much greater than their reaction to the continuing violence perpetrated by societies that maintain prisons, executions, wars, condone homelessness, bankruptcy from health care costs, and allow companies that kill workers and pollute the world to continue giving bonuses and dodging taxes. Most liberals agree that corporations are not people, so then why when a corporate window is smashed they immediately scream "VIOLENCE!!!" as if a person has been shot? Lovely brainwashing is lovely. The marching on the port was WAY more destructive than a few broken windows and spray painted walls.



• Most of the people at the end of the day occupying the building, building barricades, and setting shit on fire were being idiots. Entire population's lives are reliant on this movement to succeed and idiots are out having dance party's in front of a building occupation, all of which would run away at the first sign of cops and tear gas. If you take over a building be ready to defend it and do something productive with it, not just turn it into some temporary "anarchist" photo-op. Here's some additional and excellent analysis of this act.



• The twitter calls about how anarchism has no place in Occupy Oakland is completely insane because the entire movement is based on anarchism. The general assembly, affinity groups, occupying space illegally, communal living featuring medics, media, libraries, arts, etc., un-permitted marches, "Who Streets? Our Streets!", banner drops, food not bombs, and many other collective and non-hierarchical forms of action and organization from straight from anarchist theory and practice.



• It's easy to get caught up in the frenzy of the moment at a giant protest, but the truth is that there's two worlds. The small minute world of a protest and the giant world about people who don't know about it or just don't give a fuck about it. While the encampment at Occupy Oakland is inspiring and a good way to branch out actions, there's gotta be organization in people's neighborhoods and workplaces. This movement has to grow and talking to people outside of the camp is the only way to do it.