Friday, April 20, 2012


Yesterday I marched back and forth with my sign in front of the blockaded Federal Hall steps for half an hour-- the nice senior parks police official explained that I could either stand still behind the barricade or march outside, and I chose motion and freedom. At least the SWAT team was elsewhere, unlike Tuesday when they wore bulletproof vests.

So I marched. And then I bought hot sandwiches for the occupiers-- one of the medics almost cried, "This is the best breakfast I've had in weeks." She was the same one whose partner told the arresting cops that she had seizures, stop beating her-- so they threw her head (I could almost see the bruise, still) against stairs. She was the same one who witnessed cops (during the Liberty Square eviction) stomp on puppies and throw them in the garbage. (Unsurprisingly, they lost 4 medics who witnessed that behavior and were too upset to come back.) She was the same one who had 47 minutes of freedom between being released and re-arrested. The second arrest, as she was walking away from a protest scene-- with her lawyer walking besides her. She was about my height and several stone lighter, but it took ten cops to beat her up. She was as surprised at her fearsomeness as I was.

So then I had to get them coffee and hot chocolate-- one of the other occupiers said the medics had stayed up all night, keeping an eye on the people asleep at 60 Wall, since that is the only place (as of now) where then can sleep unmolested.

I slept for 11 hours last night, and I'm still tired.

[Edited to subtract some flaming rhetoric that hurt a friend.]

I'm going to blame the tired for the burning words. And/but it is hard seeing the protestors hurting, and I don't know how much energy the rest of the world has to care.
It makes me feel crazy.

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