Sunday, January 8, 2012

Tonight I don't even care

I’m waiting for Jeff from #ows who has the key. Kevin has arrived with his creative partner,Micah and other crew members, to talk about his upcoming immersive theatre performance Monday night. It has something to do with werewolves and cities and nature and full moons and...we’ll see...
Jeff passes off the key and leaves. I’m upset to finmd that the key won’t fit into the lock. And once forced  in, won’t come out. We’ve been waiting half an hour. While strugging to get the door open, I’m more upset to have it answered by a young woman when I thought no one was supposed to be there. Dan’s there, too, and the woman with the twins. I thought I had called him, but it was my son Dan. No wonnder he sounded puzzled. I tell Dan the woman has to find another place. 
I show Kevin and company around. They need to talk about what spaces they will need. And then I find the worst--the door handle is off my door and my lap top has disappeared. Like the stolen Christmas Eve offering, once again my fault. I left it out, unlocked. But I feel deeply hurt. As much as I say I’m not romantic, I still am. Didn’t believe anyone for #ows would rip me off. Pastor, welcome to original sin.
I just want to enjoy the sunny, warm nd beautiful day, but it keeps getting crazier.  An older woman brings a bag with two comforters for the twins. 
Martin comes wanting space and time for a flamenco rehearsal. 
Marc thinks that someone has been messing wiht his sound system and a speaker has been blown. I’m almost blown. So I walk out, go for a pint at the blue pub and watch the end of a miserable perfomance by Pitt in a random bowl game. 
When  I come back, Marc has found a simple solution to his problem. Maybe it wasn’t blown after all. Dan has discivered that the problem's not that the lock has messed with but that the key was bent. He unbends it as he gets ready to leave with the mother and children for New Jersey. No need for an expensive emergency locksmith.
Before he leaves, there is a confrontation with a young man who he found going through the bags. Says he was looking  for his legal papers, left the at SPSA. Later I discover that he was busted, by #ows, who actually called the police, for sexual assault in Zucotti. Banned from SPSA. Dan was right. I get Dan to calm down, get the young man to leave. 
Occupiers keep arriving, smiling, after beautiful days outside, asking me how I am. I grumble about my lap top and most feel shocked, sad and sorry. But then other theft stories come out. The young woman who opened the door for me shares her own concerns about the mother with twins. And tells me how her meds were stolen. Another young man, just back from the tent city at OccupyNewark, has a story of theft, assault and defending himself with a saw blade. 
Alright, where are my point people? I’m done. Wonder if it’s even worth it. Emotionally exhausted. Can a movement even begin to deal wth this crap? Does it distract from serious political work? It's easier at a distance. So much easier to make empassioned prophetic pronouncements when you;r enot in the midst of harcore, and I mean that, reality. Like cleaning shit off the steps.Tonight, I don’t even care.
Need to go home, lose myself in the Saints- Falcons game. Fantasize about moving to New Orleans. 

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