This weekend was the Carnival of Resistance down at Occupy DC, marking the half-year anniversary of our camp. Despite the music and festivities, you could feel how bittersweet the mood was - our own personal goodbye to the way Occupy was. Once green grass has been trampled by cops and protesters into dusty dirt patches. Tent communities have faded, post-eviction, into solitary, abandoned units. Energetic dancers were forced to stop when US Park Police announced that the balloons hanging from the central circle needed to be removed Or Else. Occupiers hustled to obey without questioning - a sight unthinkable pre-eviction.
But now, we know what Or Else means.
We have been beaten by police with batons. We have been stopped and spied on by Homeland Security. We have seen members of our community disappear suddenly, without explanation. And we know we have not seen the worst of the government's abilities.
(And yet, people still return to dance.)
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Monterey
(see title)
If you see a mention of another person,
it is a figment of your imagination.
Neither you, them, your imagination, or figments exist.
Falling jelly
Monterey
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