Natalie W writes at Capricious Yet Constant:
My heart beats again, for the first time ever on that Wall Street, I am staying warm with shared spoken dreams of wresting control from corporate personhoods. In energy form across 800 miles, I am building new relationships while dissembling the hyper0consumerist hegemony. My face aches from my exhausted grin-muscles, locking blue eyes with the cute anarchist boy over our bandanas-turned-outlawed-face-masks. Beside us, all of the disillusioned, the downtrodden, and the poor, we who make up these huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of this debt-teemed inland shores, all tempest-tossed, all block -lettering our found-cardboard signs.
I know other protests are coming, that this Native American summer’s chill is our Arab Spring. There is too much unrest in our bones: too many with too little crushed by too many with too much.
This human electricity cackles along my nerves like the wind through the Midwest cornfields.
In the cold sodium vapor glinting off of the bull, I would be home.
I should be occupying but I’m preoccupied here by this weight, this loss. Lying in this too-big bed, I can’t even move to kayak ORD & LGA flights this weekend. I feel my optimism deserting me down an alleyway, leaving me standing in the dark. The change I wish to see in the world can barely pull on pajama bottoms. I’ve made unbreakable lines, I’ve walked as a slut, I’ve raged against Chicago Public Schools, I’ve demanded an end to the wars. The comradeship of 1960s battle reenactments fruitlessly sought for in this individualistic world dissipates, like tear gas, after the protesters go home to their Wal-Marts and unlivable-wage jobs. The hegemony still reigns down …
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