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Title: Ch@os Virxus Conspiracy
Author: π blackflag
Date: summer 2015
Language: en
Topics: anti-psyc, antifascist action, per-zine, marco camenisch, eva contreraz, em sheppard, conspiracy cells of fire, nihilist anarky, anarchist nihilixt majik, chaos virxus
Notes: First published some 6 months ago, submitted now as 7/25 (International Day of Antifascist Action) is some 6 months to arrive. Solidarix via all Black December 2015; for BLACK XX16...

π blackflag

Ch@os Virxus Conspiracy

…We are the new chaotic virus, the ghost of freedom, the uncontrollable

international plague of revolt.”

-https://guerrillanews.wordpress.com/tag/conspiracy-of-cells-of-fire/?blogsub=confirming#blog_subscription-3

“Psyciatry [is] a weapon of repression against a radical prisoner,” – a

quote from Marco Camenish’s support web presence, coupled with Eva

Contreraz’ experience with the neglect of prisons complying with

community healthcare recommendations for treatment & Em Sheppards

pyscological interrogations, show how prisons are working against green

and gender anarchists in tandum with ‘healthcare.’

As a non-gender conforming anarchist, and one with a history of mental

health experiences, it has come to my attention that a brief albeit

significant stint history of hospitalizations and imprisonments in the

past 2+ years warrants a response concerning where the

for-profit-police,judicial,prison system intersect the for-profit mental

health complex.

Not only have I been arrested and done jail time twice since 2013; I

have been pink-slipped twice already this year. The process doesn’t

refer to loosing one’s job as the old slang would have us consider (tho

I have been undergoing an unofficial ‘for-currency’ withholding of my

time from the for-profit-labor system since spring of 2012). Being

pink-slipped is a legal process of non-arrest in which the ‘recipient’

is detained because they are considered a threat to themselves or

others. This process, from my experience with others while in the

hospital (where they put your ass when you’ve been pink-slipped) is that

this happens most to those who are suicidal. In my cases however there

were root of deep misunderstanding of me as a person, socially,

politically, emotionally, et al. In the words of one of Marco Camenish’s

support web pages, ‘A political identity is not something that can be

negotiated psyciatrically. Being an anarchist is not a pyscological

problem.’

My first mental health hospitalization occurred not on a pink-slip

actually but rather as the result of a boating mishap. In the middle of

the night I had decided against all odds to navigate the beautiful night

via the Alum Creek and canoe in order to get to work. I didn’t have a

bicycle at the time and needed to traverse/transit from north of the

city into town. The night was gorgeous March and the waterways summoned

as I could travel to the independent news publication I was working to

sell advertisements for and promoting. This to stay in line with my

anti-petroleum ethics. Things started out wonderfully; as I drifted down

the river in the night, the wildlife made itself known to me: robins,

blue jay, sparrow, turtles, bleue heron, mallard ducks, water snakes, a

red-tailed hawk, a couple fresh water otters…

Sometime in the night however the weather took a turn for the worst.

Cold rain began to fall. The water levels rose as the temperature

dropped. I ended up capsizing but continued on after a failed attempt to

start a warm-up fire. After capsizing again, I towed my watercraft into

a tributary and walked to a retired-nunnery nearby in order to make an

emergency phone call. It seems that in that state of near (if not

certain) hypothermia, I would make a dire mistake – I called someone I

thought (incorrectly) could be trusted. What followed was the beginning

of my recent journey throughout the mental health evaluation/treatment

milieu.

Chronologically, I should step back a moment and address a legal

situation I was in the middle of during this boating trip (march

2014c.e.). I was then on probation for a minor misdemeanor charge that

could have been arson. This is my communiqué concerning the nature of

that legal process:

this is just to say that back on the solstice of 2013, i lit a newspaper

stand on fire in solidarity with the rota flora squat being attacked by

the fascist pig-state. i approached by bicycle and used a lighter to

start the fire right at the front corner of the front lawn of the ohio

state house (broad and high) in columbusx ohio united disney states of

north american continent landia. i made sure to leave the lighter in the

flaming shit-newspapers so it would make a minor explosion of the rage i

felt as i rode furiously away on my bicycle. i did get caught and fought

with everything to show those fucks a terrible time. it ended with 2

days in jail after a forced tranquilization shot in the ass surrounded

by neo-nazi pigs (about 6 white officers) in the back of a paddywagon. i

woke up in jail with a huge black eye but after kick-ass legal defense,

i served a year non-reporting-probation for 'criminal mischief'. i am

pleased to see this link

http://rt.com/news/hamburg-rote-flora-clashes-635/ at what happened the

day i was released! solidaridad in full-hearted rage and love for free

safe spaces - when they bring shields we show them fire; when they bring

riot-cops, we bring the r][I][ot!

de: http://325.nostate.net/?cat=6

eso simplememte a pone un vox a un action que yo hize en el solsticio.

pone fuego a un estand de papels noticias por solidaridad a la rote

flora esquata que era en siege de los fascistos del estado en

duetchlandia. era en la cara de los republicantes - directamente en la

corozon de los fuertes fascistes en eeuu, estado ohio - la casa de

capitalisimo. a ser confindente de un explosion, pone la luz (lighter)

entre la estanda a mis sentamientos de arrebato y furia del la ordenes y

desde conducire la bicicleta aya lejos... cuando lxs policias porkos me

arrestan luche con toda el cuerpo entonces ellos joderadores no saben lo

que pasar y tuven un tiempo terrrible! pinche madres me ponen en prision

pero antes seis officiales dime un injection a tranquilarme en el arso

entre un truco del estado/policiax. me llevar con un ojo muy negro pero

despues de defenso legal muy suave servi yo un ano de probacion sin

reportenes por 'daños en propiedad ajena.' era tan felicidadx cuanto lei

http://rt.com/news/hamburg-rote-flora-clashes-635/ en la dia que era

libre. solidaridad en tan corazon cabreo amor por squaters-rights,

espacios libre y seguridad por anarchistxs@! cuando ellos traer escudos,

nos traigamos fuegxs y furia; ellos ponen policias de riot

(antidisturbios) a traer nos udxs a traer parrafadas!

-eso traducion desde (CONC)H ['Contra-0mne' Nihilist Circulo d'Hio']

collectivx & THE FEATHER-WEATHER ABOVEGROUND es en solidaridad

especialmente con los conspircies of cells of fire, NO TAV, 'la

tortuga', y todos que alimentxn la lucha anti-fascisimo global!

From that night I suffered very traumatic backlash from the treatment of

law and enforcement. I took a stand with the cells of fire and had been

haunted by nightmares. I had gone to some support meetings and was in

community care via family and the radical community at the time but

things weren’t going well. Thus, part of the reason I had found myself

in need of bike-less transportation from one safe haven in the exurbian

north to the central part of the city.

Anyway, the phone call resulted in my waiting there soaked and frigged

for a lift and relief. In the course of waiting for my father, two

dispatches of two sheriffs each time visited me in the lobby/entrance of

the ‘Sisters of Mercy.’ Each time they were fairly considerate however

inquisitive and questioning. They asked name, why I was there etc… I

told them I had been trying to get to my job but had fallen into icy

waters and needed to make a phone call. They only allowed me 2 calls

finally saying that was enough and that I had to wait for my father to

arrive. A nun brought me hot cocoa. After he arrived, we went to Ohio

State and I checked in (upon his strong and somewhat coercive

encouragement) for an ‘evaluation.’ That’s when you loose your freedom.

When you are in a crisis and you can’t make autonomous healthy choices.

What followed was 2 days of emergency detention/evaluation followed by a

week+ in Twin Valleys – an outpatient living quarters. For those who

know what it’s like to have no freedom of movement, no exposure to the

joy of cooking your own food, making your own coffee, being held against

your will behind foreign walls – under scrutiny and authority of others’

(professionals’) orders/power, of having to prove that you can be

released, you understand what I went through that first hospitalization.

I was finally released in time to participate in the last day of

OhioOhio – a regional BikeBike event hosted by ThirdHand Bike coop and

Sporeprint Infoshop.

Nearly a year went by. I completed my non-reporting probation time.

Unstable housing/shelter, continued poverty (eased by foodstamps and

Medicaid – once I had time to work with the assigned case-worker), and a

summer with an assigned counselor (whom I crushed on) resulted from that

hospitalization. There were highlights, the first annual Cleveland

Anarchist Book Fair, a trip to a regional FoodNotBombs summit in

Indianapolis, a family camp trip on an island in lake Eerie, and

BikeBikeColumbus2014. All of it seemed shrouded in mistrust though. In a

time of needing a warm fire and shelter – a change of dry clothes maybe

– I had been convinced to make use of the medical system and I had been

essentially locked up for it – just at a time when I had been working

for a cumulative regional bike conference of months of organizing and

hard work. I couldn’t help but feel repressed and pissed-off; derailed.

When March next rolled around I was coming out of a dark winter spent

struggling to understand who were allies, what family is/was, where to

live, and much time writing letters to political prisoners and poetry

[see Black Diamond Collective collected Letters & An Empire – Y].

I had been staying with family and recently gone through turbulent times

amidst the coops/collectives I was a part of. My foodstamps benefits had

been cancelled due to a non-filing of previous years’ taxes. I had

completed counseling and taken some medications but gone off them.

Abilify, namely, which in tests has shown to cause blindness in test

beagle dogs. That in itself was enough to make me stop taking it.

Thoughts that I didn’t need the shit were confirmed when I was diagnosed

by incident as NOS (not otherwise specified) pyscosis. That’s what you

get from the community at large when you take a radical action in line

with your most deeply held principals. Next, I would learn how to take

it a step further…

By May I was gaunt and fierce. Having researched Contra Omne – inner

arm, conspiracy of cells of fire, and embracing Nihilst anarchy as well

as been in communications with several political prisoners – I was ready

to give up my unofficial work strike. I took a temp gig to do flyering

and text-book buy backs at Kenyon College. It was a decision that was

difficult but necessary as I didn’t even have the receipt of the social

security disability payments for two months previous due to closing my

credit union accounts. On the drive to the college the co-worker/cohort

(J-bird) informed me that a week prior a man with apparent mental health

history/issues had been beaten to death by sheriffs while in jail. I

wept – I wept hard at the news…

J-bird and I arrived at Kenyon after checking into a hotel. At the hotel

we decompressed from the drive by drinking coffee, watching part of Iron

Man (the trial scene), playing some guitar, and I took a swim in the

whirl pool. The campus was getting ready for finals and graduation. The

local coffee shop was closed but we found a public restroom in the

basement near the campus radio station. I took a walk around. Checked

out the campus commons and asked a group of students if we could play

some table-tennis. The commons rec-room was closed and I mentioned that

I thought it should be opened. It seemed to me important and one student

mentioned that sometimes they open it up for people. I pinned a blue and

yellow pin on the community bulletin-board in lieu of flyers for the

buy-backs as I noticed I didn’t have any flyers before meandering into

and coincidentally playing the juke box at a nearby restaurant/bar and

getting a glass of water. I asked about prep-cook and dishwashing gigs

to no avail. Then I walked the main strip of wooded and wild flowered

campus to the old hall. After examining and paying respects to a massive

dead tree (probably struck by lightning), I delivered a poem.

I placed a portable table-tennis set on a concrete table, then held a

crimethinc ‘shadow of the past’ poster in the wind. ‘The feather-weather

above ground’ is now on campus.’ I found my way to a group of students

near the common ostensibly studying and co-mingled. I sat, then

kick-flipped my legs in parkour fashion over a flower-bed of brick.

‘Does anyone mind if I smoke a cigarette?’ I asked noticing several

other smokers. No one said a word. I gave a monologue while smoking –

the words I don’t recall but the essence of which was content concerning

the recent beating of the man named David who had mental health issues

and had died in the hospital after being jailed. Almost all the students

got up to leave; finishing my smoke so did I. I found my way back to the

van.

At the food/general store across the street from the van, I sat finally

meeting back up with J-bird. I had a stomach ache and my blood sugar was

probably pretty low. I went into the store to purchase something for my

ailments/condition. J-bird gave me a couple cookies and just as I was

about to take $10 to go purchase a tincture I had selected, a campus

security guard approached and asked for my ID and info. That’s when shit

got weird.

We waited an hour as security informed us that we had to wait for the

sheriff. In that time people lived life all around us as we (later to

find out were being illegally detained – as the private security had no

right to detention) smoked cigarettes and chatted with the security

guards (2 women) near the van. We asked to leave. They said, ‘No.’ When

the deputy finally arrived I greeted him as he approached saying, ‘Hi,

what’s up?’

He started grabbing for my body. He said you’re being pink-slipped. He

said you’re either going to the hospital or jail. I said, ‘don’t

handcuff me.’ He started yelling, ‘Stop resisting.’ He grabbed me,

slammed me onto the asphalt in an arm twist. While the other security

held my right arm and legs down he cuffed me, tearing lacerations on

both wrists. They started pulling down my pants and I grabbed to pull

them up and cover my genitals. In the pain, I shat my pants in two

turds. He tased me in the back and I screamed. I yelled for help. We had

asked if we could just leave. J-bird had offered to drive me to my home

with my family, or even the hospital. No – I was going to jail…

There have been two campus publication write-ups on the event:

[http://kenyoncollegian.com/2015/05/04/man-tased-outside-market-sunday-charged-with-assault/

(March 4th, 2015) and

http://kenyoncollegian.com/2015/05/10/student-witnesses-comment-on-arrest-tasing-of-man-in-village/

(March 10th, 2015)]. I ended up spending 9 days in county. I was denied

information about my pink-slip. I was denied phone calls. I was for 2

days in an isolation cell then moved upstairs around back to a shared

confines with another inmate. That guy was a meth-lord of sorts and even

though I helped him write legal request help letters, gave him food from

my chow-tray and treated him with as much respect and kindness as I

could, he threatened to tie the phone chord around my neck, ‘do

something about that nose’ (I have a broken nose and it’s kinda big),

and to box me. I lost weight and didn’t shit for a week. I was allowed 2

visits to the barb-wired, brick walled on all sides basketball court

that week. No other outdoors exposure, very little contact with the

outside. My complaint form was returned with the note, ‘only one

complaint per form.’ I had been denied other forms though I asked for

them several times. Finally, J-bird and Charlie came to bail me out –

that was the day after I finally had a chance to meet with the county

behavioral health counsel and given a brief physical exam by the medic.

To compare this treatment with what happened a couple months earlier

when I was pink-slipped by my parents in March in Delaware county. It’s

important for understanding the brutality that I experienced in Knox

county. In the March incident, a sheriff actually came into the home and

met me along side my mother. We stepped out the back door into the lawn

and talked for about a half hour. The sheriff was clearly trained in

crisis intervention (C.I.T. training) and convinced me that I would be

going to a pyciatrist for a couple hours of questioning. Ok…

When I came around the back lawn to the drive way what I saw astounded

me. The driveway was blocked by 3 sheriff cars and another arrived while

I gathered my things. I packed up the tent I had been preparing and was

allowed to pull myself together, even taking a few minutes to lay on the

gravel and say, ‘so this is what you want, another dead anarchist.’ I

knew they were going to take me away. But I talked with them and they

convinced me it would be ok. I negotiated terms to have one of my

neighbors who had come and stood on the road as a witness to be the one

driving me to the hospital instead of going in a cop-car!

They drove me laying in the backseat of a green Volkswagon Jetta to

Grady Memorial in Delaware county. When we stepped in the hospital

peacefully, all shit broke out and I was swarmed by big white men

telling me to get on a gurney and strip all my clothes off. They

encroached aggressively and I had to assure them with all my peace-power

that I would comply but to just fucking give me a second. I couldn’t

believe they wanted to take me away. I feared I would be locked in

another Twin Valleys for another week. Rest assured I was correct.

After several hours in an embarrassing gown, having vitals and blood

drawn, and being observed even while peeing, I was put on a stretcher

and given an ambulance ride to Mansfield where I spent 9 days in another

psyce ward. I didn’t sign any voluntary stay papers work though. I

refused hospital meals there; had 2 forced injections. That terrible

experience ended in me being ordered released by the probate court – I

had won a legal release. At least there I was allowed to receive outside

food support and randomly watched a lot of television including sports –

even witnessing my favorite tennis player Andrea Petkovic win a match!

About two weeks after I had been bailed out of Knox, I sought counseling

at Southeast in Franklin county. I was allowed to leave the initial

evaluation there but went to Netcare after a brief cup of coffee at

Brioso with friends/supporters. I was transferred to Netcare west then

onto Riverside Hospital. This time, I signed voluntary paper work and

went through a 2 week treatment. I put on a lot of weight, had daily

visitors of loved ones. I am given a diagnosis of psycosis from

emotional trauma and am taking medication for schizophrenia. The

recovery is going well as I have a stable living place and company,

food, disability benefits for back pain are back, I have a social worker

at southeast, have been making amends with the coop and collectives of

which my life and destiny is so inter/ra-wound. I have applied for food

stamps again and even an Obama phone. I have attended peer support

meetings in the hospital and now at the PEER center, a local resource on

Broad Street. Things are well on the whole but I have a continuing legal

battle as I address the police brutality I faced in Knox county – the

place where a week before I was beaten and arrested during a pink-slip,

the same sheriffs beat another man with mental health issues to death.

I went to see a Melvins show. Then went to a Clippers game and a Crew

game. Have been seeking dental care. Have kept appointments with

psyciatrist, even got a physical. Will be keeping on psyce and nightmare

(even vitamin D for a better mood) meds and got a referral for physical

therapy. Saw Anti-Flag and the opening act was Homeless Gospel Choir – a

one man acoustic singer-songwriter. Before playing his final song of the

night (the third of three protest songs in a row he dedicated to mental

health) he stalled, paused, said ‘um’ a few times and tapped his guitar

before continuing, ‘Freddy Gray…Freddy Gray woulda been 13 years old

today. ‘ Someone in the crowd asks, ‘Who’s Freddy Gray?’ Freddy Gray was

a boy killed by racist cops. Derek continued in obvious passion,

‘there’s a thing called white-supremacy and it’s not a media spectacle.

It’s alive in this country and there’s something we can do about it;

there’s something we have to do about it!’

After his set, we talked at the merch-booth. I purchased his

self-published book entitled, Existentialism – the Musical and an

Anti-Flag t-shirt on which the back reads, ‘FUCK POLICE BRUTALITY’. Mya

it should also be mentioned was a trans woman of color killed weeks

after Freddie. I want to expand the national dialogue that haunts us

all. Please do what you can to kill the cop in you head and never-never

pink-slip me nor imprison/force-hospitalize me nor your neighbor – even

when ‘guilty’ of solidarity/revolt-ist/resistance action.

I have pretrial dates for late July and August and a pending trial in

Late August. This will be taken care of before I turn 34 but the effects

are life-long. They have already dismissed a trespassing charge; been

offered a deal to take guilty to ‘Disorderly.’ I will fight to have ALL

criminal charges dropped! Justice lies more deeply though in being

understood.

- See also: ‘Ohio’s prisons hold 10 times as many mentally ill as its

psychiatric hospitals do.’

http://www.dispatch.com/content/stories/local/2015/04/19/mental-prison.html

(April, 19th 2015)

A rebel and insurgent spirit is a serene spirit, a spirit without time

because it lives in a continuous present made of solidarity. Solidarity

which by definition unites generations, unites efforts, unites action,

unites our lives, unites our hearts, as different and physically distant

as they may be, they have lived, live, and will live!

-Marco Camenisch

Π black flag

blahblocblackship@gmail.com