And, along the same lines, here's another poem by William Blake. Most people know it as a hymn, and it was popularized recently by Billy Bragg in a beautiful rendition.

Several years ago, I took part in an ACT UP demonstration against Hoffman Laroche Pharmaceuticals, as they were stalling on their development of the then very new protease inhibitor. The preliminary results of some of the early clinical trials was less than promising, and fearing that they would not make anything like a profit, they were considering abandoning the research. ACT UP, working in concert with the breakaway group TAG, planned to shut down the campus of Hoffman-Laroche in suburban New Jersey. The problem was how to do that. The facility was huge, and there were something like nine different gates in and out. And it was January. So here was the plan. We would work in affinity groups, each group taking on a different gate. Each group would employ essentially the same tactic. We obtained steel pipes, about five or six inches in diameter, and around three feet long. We would link ourselves together with our arms in the pipes. On each wrist would be half a handcuff that would clip with a carabiner to a metal post welded into the middle of the tube. The idea was this. The police would assume that we were all handcuffed together inside of metal tubes, so there would be no way that they could get us apart. If we were just... y'know... lying there, it would take them all of ten minutes to haul us away and the gates would open up and everyone would be able to get to work without much of a problem.

Oh. It was January. So for several weeks, I was preparing to spend several hours out doors with my arms akimbo in metal tubes. Preparation involved buying lots and lots of layers of outdoor gear and adult diapers (getting out of line to answer the call of nature was not an option), and working with my affinity group--we took the name Anger for Breakfast--so that we could deploy in about fifteen seconds, spilling out of a van, lining up, and hooking up. And, I was getting myself mentally psyched for this whole drama. It was pretty scary. What if your fingers went numb from the cold? What about frostbite? What if the cops decided to be really brutal to get us to unhook ourselves? It was during this time that I committed the lyrics of Blake's Jerusalem to memory. I would sing it to myself all the time, that stridency and the militancy were what I needed.

So how did it turn out? Not so bad. We indeed did shut down Hoffman-Laroche for several hours. No one got in our out. At our gate, we noticed that a disused service entrance nearby had been cleared, and Hoffman-Laroche employees were zipping in. This was kind of dispiriting. We caucused, and decided we would break our human chain in half, and that five of us would make a run for the now opened gate and shut that down, too. I was one of the five. When we were almost there, the cops caught up to us. We had 'come apart' during our sprint, so we were now three and two. They were therefore able to load us into a van and we were put under arrest. (Was I kind of happy to be in a nice warm paddy wagon, on my way to a nice warm jail after standing out in the cold in 17 degree weather? Yeah.)

I was used to dealing with the NYPD, and they were used to dealing with demonstrators. But these guys (in Nutley, New Jersey) were a little freaked out by us. When I was locked in my cell, this guy came by and asked if I "had the AIDS." I told him that he was out of line for asking, and I wasn't going to answer. And so he said, "Suit yourself. I'll just assume that you are." And he put a big sign on my cell that said "Infected by AIDS." No foolin'. And, they had made up special rubber stamps for all of us, so that all of our paperwork was also stamped "Infected by AIDS."

While I was sitting there in my cell, I softly sang Blake's Jerusalem to myself.

Jerusalem
by William Blake

And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?


And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic mills?


Bring me my bow of burning gold:
Bring me my arrows of desire:
Bring me my spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire.


I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.

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