WTOP is breathlessly reporting that OMFG! your commute home this afternoon might be nightmarish as Occupy DC and Occupy NOVA converge on Key Bridge, a bridge that occupies itself already on a nightly basis. I approve of the symbolism: it will piss off the assholes at YFWP who have declared war on Occupy. If I can't walk down to Key Bridge today at lunch, today after work, where the fuck else can I walk a quarter-mile to occupy? I'll be in a black United knit hat taking photos with a blue camera, say hi. Photos later today, maybe, tomorrow, sure.
- Declaring what Occupy DC stands for.
- Corporate's mayor.
- Robber baroncy.
- Of course DHS is involved.
- Of course Obama sanctioned the tactics.
- Your taxes at work!
- David Harvey in London transcript.
- Double-edged bullshit! Who the fuck uses Star Trek allusions?
- College Park United. I care, I don't feel like writing about it today.
- Who will United protect? I care, I don't feel like writing about it today.
- Ukraine to stop killing stray dogs.
- Yes, I have posted the poem below before. I like it.
- Fulmination.
- Practice twice.
- Showrooms.
- The cat's dream.
- In the future.
- Song for insane times.
HUM
Ann Lauterbach
The days are beautiful
The days are beautiful.
I know what days are.
The other is weather.
I know what weather is.
The days are beautiful.
Things are incidental.
Someone is weeping.
I weep for the incidental.
The days are beautiful.
Where is tomorrow?
Everyone will weep.
Tomorrow was yesterday.
The days are beautiful.
Tomorrow was yesterday.
Today is weather.
The sound of the weather
Is everyone weeping.
Everyone is incidental.
Everyone weeps.
The tears of today
Will put out tomorrow.
The rain is ashes.
The days are beautiful.
The rain falls down.
The sound is falling.
The sky is a cloud.
The days are beautiful.
The sky is dust.
The weather is yesterday.
The weather is yesterday.
The sound is weeping.
What is this dust?
The weather is nothing.
The days are beautiful.
The towers are yesterday.
The towers are incidental.
What are these ashes?
Here is the hate
That does not travel.
Here is the robe
That smells of the night
Here are the words
Retired to their books
Here are the stones
Loosed from their settings
Here is the bridge
Over the water
Here is the place
Where the sun came up
Here is a season
Dry in the fireplace.
Here are the ashes.
The days are beautiful.
