Shot for crying
I heard about the TPP and the next thing I know I've agreed we'll use thumb-locks to attach ourselves to anything handy in the convention centre where the secret negotiations will be held. As the grinder cut through the steel tightly clamped to my thumb I reflected on how scary this shit was, the pain I was experiencing and felt moved to give voice to my concerns by making some kind of screaming noise. The gentleman on the other end of the cuffs shared this view and similarly gave voice to feelings of agonizing pain and dare I say it, fear. *coughs/adjusts testicles*
It was a good morning. There's a video where I spoke quite clearly about our reasoning shortly after being released and my clarity was probably encouraged by a close brush with a grinder. Did I say "brush"? I meant "grinder that could saw into my body but instead only rapidly heated the steel thumb cuffs agonizingly while firehosing sparks at my skin from inches away."
The other day I watched as the same police crew cut a bike lock from around the neck of a young woman. I didn't feel like her boyfriend, looking on, was having a great day.
Of course this shit is scary, but I'm motivated by a bone deep fear of the world being divided in two: Food Court Disneyworld, where everything is shiny and full of shit and The World of Poor Bastards who make all that possible, the workers in shitty factories, living in shit until they take to the streets and are shot. That happened the other day. Garment workers in Cambodia executed in the street to make way for progress.
I don't know about you guys, but I can't live happily knowing my luxurious life is made possible by people who are worth nothing. I just feel they're probably worth a lot more than me. Is that guilt? Or is that realizing my life is a holiday, made possible by factory workers who get shot for crying?
It was a good morning. There's a video where I spoke quite clearly about our reasoning shortly after being released and my clarity was probably encouraged by a close brush with a grinder. Did I say "brush"? I meant "grinder that could saw into my body but instead only rapidly heated the steel thumb cuffs agonizingly while firehosing sparks at my skin from inches away."
The other day I watched as the same police crew cut a bike lock from around the neck of a young woman. I didn't feel like her boyfriend, looking on, was having a great day.
Of course this shit is scary, but I'm motivated by a bone deep fear of the world being divided in two: Food Court Disneyworld, where everything is shiny and full of shit and The World of Poor Bastards who make all that possible, the workers in shitty factories, living in shit until they take to the streets and are shot. That happened the other day. Garment workers in Cambodia executed in the street to make way for progress.
I don't know about you guys, but I can't live happily knowing my luxurious life is made possible by people who are worth nothing. I just feel they're probably worth a lot more than me. Is that guilt? Or is that realizing my life is a holiday, made possible by factory workers who get shot for crying?
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