Day 270.

Been trying to write for days. About occupation, liberation, love, loss, and longing. About watching a movement unfold, participating in conversations that would not be happening were it not for these people, sleeping and living in a plaza downtown.

But I'm tired, and my back hurts, and I've had things to do, people to make my life feel happy and full. I haven't been able to turn that down to sit down and write. I've needed that. I've needed joy and rest and simplicity.

So I'll write, soon. Soon. Soon.

Day 269.

Day 268.

Day 267.

I dreamed last night that I finally took the stage at Occupy Oakland. Even in my dream, the echoes of the human mic were there.

Day 266.

A lot to say about Occupy Oakland and other things, but I am tired, so it will have to wait.

Day 265.

Going out there again.

Day 264.

sound cannons? is that what they were?
no wonder i was crying, instantly, amidst tear gas
and guns i recognized as guns, but different
knowing the bullets were rubber, meant to terrify
not meant to kill, but to control.

Day 263.

"We're a culture, not a costume."

I had to argue with a white guy about this on fb today. (I know. "Had to." You should've seen what he was saying, though.) This was after having to confront some white kids dressed as "natives" this weekend, and ending the argument, because yes, of course, it turned into an argument, by sincerely trying to encourage them to just think about it.

Halloween used to be my favorite holiday. I don't know if more and more people are dressing in racist costumes or if I'm just noticing it more. But once again, racism is ruining something I like. :(

Day 262.

Day 261.

Bulletproof.

Day 260.

Fighting like mad for my right to happiness.

Approaching equilibrium.

Day 259.

Oh yeah, I let the sadness come
I don't have any say in the matter anyway

Oh yeah, I let the goodness come
It will come when it wants to

Permeable. Practicing. Unattached. Unsuffering. 

Day 258.

I'm putting together a 'zine! Even though I don't look thrilled in this photo, I am. Find all the info here.

Day 257.

Everything is as it should be and I am perfect, just like this.

Day 256.

Talking about make-out parties.

Day 255.

I look so greasy when I take photos when the light is like this.

Day 254.

Day 253.

(Look at all of this hair. Just look!)

I have been on the verge of tears all morning. I'm not sure why. Everything feels intensified, like I have profound empathy for and connection to all suffering and struggle. In the midst of that, I am experiencing my own suffering and struggle, really sitting in it, being with it, not trying to numb it with anything. I'm not sure why so much of my life lately has seemed to be about this: holding pain, holding knowledge about suffering, having to just experience it and know that it is real, and not something that will ever go away completely. It feels like there is a lesson in this, but I am becoming impatient. I want to get to the satisfying part, the party at the end, with friends and cake and balloons. It reminds me of a story by Miranda July about showing up at a party, and everyone who has ever been mean to you or hurt you is there to tell you that it's all just been a big test, and you passed it, and now here you are and everybody loves you and life is easy and a delight and you get everything you ever wanted. (And then, the main character, the person who has had this party thrown in their honor, leaves the party and goes home and hides away from it.)

Day 252.

With friends and I like it. :)

Day 251.

<--- needs more Vipassana.

Practicing non-attachment.

Day 250.

Yesterday evening, I occupied Oakland.

Well, okay. Not exactly. More like took the BART downtown with my friend Angel, who was more than prepared for everything from rain to hunger, carrying two umbrellas and a paper bag stuffed with fried catfish and red velvet cake. I was dressed in what Angel dubbed riot grrl gear, but what I saw as practical for a rainy day - 15 year old Doc Martens, knee socks, cut off Dickies, and a vest for warmth. Angel wore one of his signature bowler hats, and some other assortment of fur and fun and fabulosity that I can't remember all the details of at the moment.

Day 249.

I am about to go participate in an action called, tentatively, Occupy Oakland. I'm sure I will have a lot more to say after I see what is actually going down, but for now, I am experiencing some hesitation. I don't know everything about everything, no matter how often I pretend that I do, but I know a lot about who's been living in (or rather, moving into) Oakland over the last 6 1/2 years or so. I'm social, I'm connected, I've worked service jobs in which I've gotten to know quite a few, uh, young people, and I've done some movement work in which I've gotten to know a bunch of progressives and radicals.

Day 248.

One would think I was extremely happy, judging by my expression.

Day 247.

Betcha nosy ass fools wish you knew why I was smiling in this photo.








JK! Love you bitches!!!!

Day 246.

Impatient.

Day 245.

Choosing to love, but only when it feels good, and only when it feels right. The world may be deserving of my unbridled, indiscriminate love, but they will only get it when conditions are all good on this end.

Day 244.

Stretching.

Day 243.

The rain does funny things to me. I'm in a perpetual state of discomfort or anticipation of discomfort. If I go outside, I will get wet. What is this fear all about? So what if I get wet? What's the big deal?

If I really try to get to the root of it, there's some kind of yuckiness around financial instability that informs this fear. The story goes a little something like this:

Day 242.

Day 241.

Sleepy face.

Day 240.

Deep shit, continued.

Brought to you by my excited face, lookin' sweaty in the dimly lit living room, belly full of goodness, accompanied by a glass of wine and a good friend.

Everything is all good, and I'm deep in it.