Last day at JHP

More barricades, an offer from the City to relocate at 16th/Mission in an old schoolyard. Looks pretty compound-like from the satellite. A lot of resistance in the camp about going/staying the course. No drugs, no alcohol. No minors. Fine by me. But all the weedheads said they won't go if they don't get to puff. Fine, don't go. Wait for the batons.
I have so little in common with Occupy regulars. Don't smoke pot, hate badly played acoustic, not much for dogs. Slept best as I could through the GA meeting last night. No need to go, see people with their goofy little hand-signs. My mind's made up. I'm going to to the Mission, unless the Adamant ones raise a stink again and force another delay/cancellation. It's a trap. Definitely a FEMA camp next to cheap vegetable stands, used clothing, decent coffee shops instead of Noah's, Starbucks. If you don't want to go, hey don't go. I would like some structure. I would love the 10pm no music. 1950 Mission. Occupy is of the Mind anyway. Decentralized is fine by me. Virtual even.
JHP is squalor. Trash the place. Pee anywhere you like. Fetid. I hope they hose the eff out of the place, but not in the Bay. Bury it in Nevada.
People mistake anarchy for chaos. Anarchy is, in fact, order. Self-denial in a way. Capitalism is the mess. Dog-eat-dog, grab everything you can...

Fat Mike Check!

I was serving food last night and heard 'NOFX is playing'. and I figured this announcement was full of shit, but then it sounded kind of cool by the main part, so I drop my towel, and go over. Just in time to see Fat Mike getting his picture taken with whatever yahoo asked him to stand there with him. Damn. Shook his hand, thanked him for coming by nonetheless. Lives here, did not know that. Half the band's in LA. Invited him over to the tents, but he had sushi on his mind. ---a 'mic check' is what someone yells when they want the entire camp's attention - what the speaker says, in small phrases, is then repeated, by whomever, chooses to repeat.

My folding knife was absconded with from the cutting table, along with every other knife the kitchen has possessed. We're armed with kitchen knives, so watch out. Flak-jacket piercing rusty serrated knives, you bad guys in SWAT gear. Oy vey. I'm sure my fingerprints will be on whatever knife Billy Bob uses to hurt that lyin' slut Sharlene or whatever. The site is overfull - they got people off the strip of grass next to Herb Caen Way in order to reseed it, everyone who had to move bitching 'No Compromises!' Yeah right. You want the entire camp to move it, or do you want to move it yourself. It's not just the GA. That's where the tweakers hung out and man filthy ain't the word to describe. Fetid.

I am making myself available for work again finally. I have attire issues and tools to acquire. At least a Goddamn c-wrench. Have my ID. Have sobriety. Alright, holding my nose as I reenter the workplace. Wish me luck.

The winds of change are blowin but it won't be a breeze

A bit of history: the 'bridge' as it was known was the Occupy area between 101 Market (the Federal Reserve) and the much larger Justin Herman Plaza, which is crammed to capacity. The bridge was in front of the Bank of America building which apparently was built for the Southern Pacific Railroad, which in 1886 won the case which set the precedent that a corporation can and should be treated the same as an individual person. Legalese is not my thing, but the verdict included this statement:

"The Court does not wish to hear argument on the question whether the provision in the Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution which forbids a state to deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws applies to these corporations. We are all of the opinion that it does."

As I understand it, this when extrapolated, interpreted whatever, means that a corporation has the same rights as an individual. I remember something on Colbert about this but I don't have the time or inclination to research this further. I have to return to camp with rumors about an amassing of riot police in the parking garage of the Embarcadero Hyatt. 101 is gone now, they ripped backpacks off peoples' backs, took their belongings, took their pictures, cited and released them. Dude shivering under the Nic at Nite had no socks. Nic at Nite is the barter table where you can go for a free rolly most of the time.

I am soon to defy the open-flame law, as I was given a propane Coleman cannister, and found a burner apparatus. Hot water, instant Medaglia d'Oro, a rolly from Nic at Nite. Read my homework, Demanding the Impossible available at http://www.4shared.com/document/c44apGZ5/Peter_Marshall_Demanding_the_I.html

Have a good day everyone, and support OCCUPY however you may see fit.

Dog fights and the kittens in the morning

This morning a thin lass with a bit of fuzz on a leash were in front of my tent, the cat squatting on the pea-gravel next to the Bocce court where I have made my home. It does look like litter. How much can their little bladders hold? More than I thought, and the girl did shoosh me when I first approached. (Difficult to get the cat to go. Oh). A good morning trip to intestinal bliss I must respect.

An even smaller one was getting a bit of fresh air minus the bully-dogs that rule the night, it on a 10' string emerging from a small tent, one of the flood plain ones. (The east gravel strip has drain issues that will make your tent into more of a beaver dam). I am the tent next to one of those huge concrete spheres - good signage for a ball court. I put my prayer flag string over it like a hairband. I wrote Welcome to the Circle A Ranch on a pallet set edge-wise and attached the black flag. Get branded!

The kitchen is about to snap. JD has achieved his own bliss in not caring, as he puts out the dozens of sandwiches and preparing more for the cause. Mike the guy who comes down from 101 is easy to work with. No one freaked when we had to move the kitchen to storage. The sink was a poor investment, when your water comes in 5 gallon camping or commercial containers. That went away yesterday.

Woke up to Christmas music. Thought the rink was very loud and...no, it is to my North. I'm confused. A boom box, aimed in my general direction by two guys in a higher up tent, South. I'm sorry, what? I check the time on the Ferry Bldg. It's 8:30 am. The crooner stuff at the Ice Capades last night was so much better. Mel Torme, Blue Eyes, good shit. Pseudo rockabilly Santa Claus is Coming to Town. You know the one. I go give them grief. Pull rank? I just asked if you experienced the non-stop wingnut melee that went on for three days. I think I moved each of those days. Once for the flood plain, once to the com tent, pulled down during 2am raid. Then to yup. 100 Main Street, JH Plaza, SF, CA 94666. Surely no one took that zipcode. We should have it.

Another dogfight. Where's the fucking muzzle? Who took the muzzle off? It's not my dog. (That's a punchline, you know). He spit on me. I remember I do in fact have a dogbite. Three punctures in box shape bruise. Dogbite. I forgot but now I have on shorts so I can have some props in saying what fucked up kenneling is going on. I was hassling its owner over shit on the ground or just being irresponsible. I forget. They are going to be the final straw. Irresponsible dog-ownership brought down occupy. Our unsafe verdict (the Public Health sheet - did you get the memo?) included feces and urine on the ground and a dog disease known as parvo.

This morning, I prefer kittens.

The long haul

Folks, I need a few things beside the obvious socks, water, and a camping-style solar apparatus for heating water (Tea/coffee and warm suds for the dishes would be a Godsend). I, we, need to know this is not all in vain. I finally got off my depressed pity-party ass and got busy helping the kitchen scrub up after the urinary-edible confusion someone had, and evacuating yesterday when NEW barricades showed up, that is the kitchen substructure (shelving, stainless table, cutting blocks etc). I spent the morning handing out food to the grateful as well as those that just don't fucking get it. Can I have two? No, Goddamn it, tell whoever the hell it is to get off their ass and come get one, and there's dishes back there if you maybe might possibly want to contribute. And fucking around on a Goddamn acoustic guitar is a detriment to the cause because quite honestly you suck ass.

I also decided I could share something in the way of alleged expertise by leading a work group on ~Anarchist literature: I include Kropotkin as well as Vonnegut, Angela Davis and Huysman. I am here for the duration. Rain schmain. Falls mainly in the plain. And ends up going down the motherfucking drain. Hey that's a good line. http://vimeo.com/9704178 in case you forgot.

Come see me. I'll be where the kitchen kind of is. Or near my tent Center Street with the black flag proudly hung. As Bugs used to say, "Of course you realize, this means war." Peace y'all. Or not. Whatever. I'm out.

RAID versus Black Flag

RAID has definitely won the first sortee. At least a lot of the the wingnut cockroaches flew the coup (pun intended): At 2am last night as I was trying to enjoy my fourth hour of sleep in the last week, I hear "cops in riot gear!". I am unfazed hoping the prankster would shut the eff up...When I reached the end of Market, I saw a few boneheads grabbing barricades to put with rolling trash barrels and doors, etc. for "our barricade". That is the stupidest idea I have ever heard. Trash barrels and their barricades. More embarrassment.

The fights and the theft and the intoxication were not enough, then we have made-for-TV drama when Stan tries to make sense by standing on a concrete stanchion and saying that resistance must be passive if it is to be effective, and this 'barricade' will be about as effective against rubber bullets and tear gas as a paper bag. I am with Stan, believing Occupy the Mind and the Heart will follow, but a fellow protester has other ideas and will not quit banging the green recycle bin enough for Stan to be heard. The cops are half a block away dude. The stick ends up drawing blood from Stan's head, at least 4 or 5 professional-looking cameras rolling. More embarrassment.

I speak to a well-educated fellow from Berkeley, who mentions that the cops change shift at 4. We put together between the 2 of us that if new cops come on, they could tap the old crew for some O.T. and perhaps double their force. After verifying my logic with some members of the G.A., I approach each of the TV trucks to make sure they please stay, explaining my logic of the cop duty change. They seem to agree.

I am deranged by lack of sleep and the frustration of having to watch my stuff constantly. I came back to my spot this a.m. and somebody was literally moving in ON my sleeping bag which was laid out neatly under the communications tarp. ON my bag with a whole park depleted of a quarter of the tents it previously had. I go semi-ballistic and relocate for the...4th or 5th time, involving a modicum of gear, but plenty of frustration.

I do believe there are 'plants' who steal and foment internal disention by creating distractions of a Health and Safety violation nature. Urinating on the foodstuffs in the kitchen. Underscoring the parvo in the dogs in the park in the press. (Thank you Examiner). One may go a bit further to think that drugs, especially stimulants are allowed and perhaps supplied, that there is a 'stand-down' order for boosting alcohol from the one Safeway within walking distance. I dunno. It just seems so obvious, including the person in a wind-breaker no one has ever seen saying 'we' should not go help defend 101 (The Federal Reserve branch of Occupy), that 'we' should' defend our own turf. As far as I know, we're all the same schmuck.

Gotta go, never know how long the 'calm before' will last since we were read the Riot Act (municipal code violation blah x3). Thanks for reading. We need water. SW corner of Justin Herman.