My Solidarity Blog (below for link)
It's just after midnight and my head's whirling. I drove up to Topanga in torrential rain, rivers running past me on the PCH, mists rising up off the sea and cloaking my shitty little Ford Escort, blanket-like. I was en-route to CSA California to pick up fruit and vegetable donations from the kind folks up there. CSA, for you folks who don't know (and I had no fucking clue until this morning), stands for Community Sustainable Agriculture, and is basically a bunch of individuals just like you who want to support our local farmers, being pushed out by corporations and increasing land taxes. Those individuals band together to form a collective which shares the risks and benefits of food production. I won't bore you, but here's the wiki explanation. Essentially, it means local people helping local farmers and businesses stay afloat, and providing the community with good, organic produce which is far, far cheaper and tastier than the shiny, waxed, genetically engineered crap you buy at Ralphs, Trader Joe's and Wholefoods. I'm sorry, but apples just don't have that fucking sheen on them, Wholefoods. They don't. Nor do they cost the price of a small condo. I fucking hate Wholefoods. But I still go there, because it's easy, it's recognizable, it has all my hippy shit in one convenient location. I do, however, frequent farmers markets for all my fresh produce, and after meeting the folks at CSA, I'm now one of their customers.
I loved that early morning rainy drive through Topanga Canyon, my car smelling of apples and oranges and Kale. Los Angeles just rained and rained today like the heavens had had enough, they'd just burst. It felt cathartic, in some way. I got home to my rose-covered cottage in West Hollywood soaked to the bone, tired and happy. I mooched around getting dry with Mr Chips, cooked up some winter soup with parsnips and carrots and beans and sweet potatoes, and then went to meet a fellow screenwriter for coffee at The Grove.
I fucking hate The Grove, and though I love movies and writing them, I hate the screenwriting industry. It was an interesting coffee as this screenwriter professed to be the same way, but it was all we spoke about, and my mind kept drifting back to Topanga and the hippies, Burning Man, and Occupy LA. I was at the March Saturday, and since then have kept up to date by following it closely on Twitter, talking to the organizers and checking in with them, and trying to hustle up donations. I finally got an evening off work, and so scooted over with Chips and boxes of organic goodies about 6pm this evening.
I'm pretty tired, so 'scuse the prose. I'm going for brevity, not style here.
Firstly, it's friendly, it's warm, it's open, and it's full of debate. You walk by - maybe it seems intimidating. A bunch of dirty, wet, unemployed people in tents, holding signs. But look at them, and they're smiling at you. Smile back, hold out your hand, ask them questions. They'll sit you down and answer them, fetch you a cup of coffee, introduce you to people. Sure, there's hardcore activists here - the type who hop from protest to protest, cause to cause. And they're working alongside mothers, fathers, the unemployed, the blue collar worker, the middle class dude who just valet-parked his Audi down the street. Everyone's here not to press an agenda, a specific cause. They're here to express their discontent, and to come together to form a conscious movement which simply expresses the desire for change. They want America to change: not to rewrite the constitution, oust the President. Nothing crazy like that. They want America to be the land it was always promised to be: the land of the free, with liberty and justice for all. What is their main complaint? Their main complaint is that corporations - the 1% - have too much power. They wield political power, as recently proven beyond doubt with Citizens United. They wield global power, as demonstrated with the absolute autonomy of the Federal Reserve and the repercussions of this un-audited institution upon the world's economy. Their CEO's advise the President and affect policy decisions. And when they gamble with our money and they lose, they are given more, while we lose homes, and jobs, and our health, and self-respect. And nothing changes even when this comes to light. No one audits or shuts down the Federal Reserve. The CEO's right at the top continue to reap massive salaries and bonuses. They still advise the President.
Occupy Wall Street, and by extension, LA is not 'anti' capitalist, 'anti' globalization, 'anti' government. It's a movement, it's a voice, and that voice is saying 'this is no longer good enough. We demand representation. We demand a change. We demand that this system where massive corporations wield unlimited political, social and economic power - end'.
This is not a march, nor is it a protest, nor is it a mere 'occupation'. What I scorned a few weeks ago as a few trustafarians in a park, what I saw on Saturday, what I've read on twitter and facebook, seen blogged about on liberal media (fucking hate The Guardian) - has evolved rapidly into becoming a truly representative, democratic movement. Outside City Hall has become a camp for Revolutionaries, and I mean that not in the lefty, hemp-wearing, kombucha-swigging, trustafarian blind faith way. I mean Revolutionary in its purest form: as a fundamental change in power. This is the people claiming back their power and their inviting you to join in. There will be the crazies, the nutters and the loonies - and they will be listened to, and their views will be heard by the General Assembly. And as I saw tonight, Mad Vegan who hates meat-eaters will be told politely to deal with them and value her opinions, but not press them on anyone. Crazy group of over-zealous anarchists who hate the LAPD and decided to start a facebook rumor suggesting they'd used violence and pepper spray, will be told this will not be tolerated in a democratic group. Cop-hater will attack me on twitter because I tweeted that LAPD have been great to Occupy LA - as if their kindness somehow undermines or condones the police brutality in New York. This is not the case. We report as we find, and so far, LAPD and the City Council have been exceptionally well behaved, communicative, even supportive and open with us. Boundaries are clearly enforced only with the agreement of the group. Finances are completely transparent, and open for anyone to see. The group is growing everyday.
It's nearly 2am and I need to sleep - have a big day rewriting tomorrow. After tonight's General Assembly I sat and talked for a long time with a Farmer from Northern California. We spoke about pretty much everything under the sun. I told him my reservations about the movement, and he made me feel better by saying faith shouldn't be blind, I should be realistic, and not blindly follow. Mr Organic Farmer was the first person I'd spoken to since Burning Man who made sense to me, and then it struck me, this whole set up was like Burning Man without the art, the drugs, the desert and the costumes. It was Burning Man being put to the test: self-reliance to the core. Those two years I was dying and unemployed, god how I would have loved to have had Occupy LA to keep me alive, to have given me hope and solidarity, to have made me feel I wasn't alone.
Mr Chips, by now. was fast asleep in my arms, and I was exhausted and buzzing and happy, and Mr Farmer had to work, and I had to drive home.
I'm crawling into bed barely sentient, so I'm posting this without editing. But I will be at the Occupation every single day I can manage (bar this weekend, when I'm being sent to the desert to work). OK, so I'm going to Joshua Tree Music Festival, but it is for work!
I have a few plans on how to work with Occupy LA to get more people joining from what I think are under-represented classes: the employed, solvent, affluent, educated 10% with decent jobs and cars, and the very fucking poor and uneducated, so please join me over here where I shall be blogging for the duration of the movement, in solidarity with Occupy Wall Street and Occupy LA. I will be updating much more regularly than I normally do as I write about the growth of the movement, and I also plan to interview as many people as possible and tell their stories on the blog in order to show all the cynical fuckers out there who (like me) think this ain't for them, that they're wrong. This is for you. It's your movement. Join it. Walk up, don't think about appearances, put out your hand, and ask questions. Come down to Occupy LA and hell, I'll even buy you a cup of coffee. Or a kombucha.
(For the final time, I didn't edit this. I'm tired. I apologize for shit writing)
I loved that early morning rainy drive through Topanga Canyon, my car smelling of apples and oranges and Kale. Los Angeles just rained and rained today like the heavens had had enough, they'd just burst. It felt cathartic, in some way. I got home to my rose-covered cottage in West Hollywood soaked to the bone, tired and happy. I mooched around getting dry with Mr Chips, cooked up some winter soup with parsnips and carrots and beans and sweet potatoes, and then went to meet a fellow screenwriter for coffee at The Grove.
I fucking hate The Grove, and though I love movies and writing them, I hate the screenwriting industry. It was an interesting coffee as this screenwriter professed to be the same way, but it was all we spoke about, and my mind kept drifting back to Topanga and the hippies, Burning Man, and Occupy LA. I was at the March Saturday, and since then have kept up to date by following it closely on Twitter, talking to the organizers and checking in with them, and trying to hustle up donations. I finally got an evening off work, and so scooted over with Chips and boxes of organic goodies about 6pm this evening.
I'm pretty tired, so 'scuse the prose. I'm going for brevity, not style here.
Firstly, it's friendly, it's warm, it's open, and it's full of debate. You walk by - maybe it seems intimidating. A bunch of dirty, wet, unemployed people in tents, holding signs. But look at them, and they're smiling at you. Smile back, hold out your hand, ask them questions. They'll sit you down and answer them, fetch you a cup of coffee, introduce you to people. Sure, there's hardcore activists here - the type who hop from protest to protest, cause to cause. And they're working alongside mothers, fathers, the unemployed, the blue collar worker, the middle class dude who just valet-parked his Audi down the street. Everyone's here not to press an agenda, a specific cause. They're here to express their discontent, and to come together to form a conscious movement which simply expresses the desire for change. They want America to change: not to rewrite the constitution, oust the President. Nothing crazy like that. They want America to be the land it was always promised to be: the land of the free, with liberty and justice for all. What is their main complaint? Their main complaint is that corporations - the 1% - have too much power. They wield political power, as recently proven beyond doubt with Citizens United. They wield global power, as demonstrated with the absolute autonomy of the Federal Reserve and the repercussions of this un-audited institution upon the world's economy. Their CEO's advise the President and affect policy decisions. And when they gamble with our money and they lose, they are given more, while we lose homes, and jobs, and our health, and self-respect. And nothing changes even when this comes to light. No one audits or shuts down the Federal Reserve. The CEO's right at the top continue to reap massive salaries and bonuses. They still advise the President.
Occupy Wall Street, and by extension, LA is not 'anti' capitalist, 'anti' globalization, 'anti' government. It's a movement, it's a voice, and that voice is saying 'this is no longer good enough. We demand representation. We demand a change. We demand that this system where massive corporations wield unlimited political, social and economic power - end'.
This is not a march, nor is it a protest, nor is it a mere 'occupation'. What I scorned a few weeks ago as a few trustafarians in a park, what I saw on Saturday, what I've read on twitter and facebook, seen blogged about on liberal media (fucking hate The Guardian) - has evolved rapidly into becoming a truly representative, democratic movement. Outside City Hall has become a camp for Revolutionaries, and I mean that not in the lefty, hemp-wearing, kombucha-swigging, trustafarian blind faith way. I mean Revolutionary in its purest form: as a fundamental change in power. This is the people claiming back their power and their inviting you to join in. There will be the crazies, the nutters and the loonies - and they will be listened to, and their views will be heard by the General Assembly. And as I saw tonight, Mad Vegan who hates meat-eaters will be told politely to deal with them and value her opinions, but not press them on anyone. Crazy group of over-zealous anarchists who hate the LAPD and decided to start a facebook rumor suggesting they'd used violence and pepper spray, will be told this will not be tolerated in a democratic group. Cop-hater will attack me on twitter because I tweeted that LAPD have been great to Occupy LA - as if their kindness somehow undermines or condones the police brutality in New York. This is not the case. We report as we find, and so far, LAPD and the City Council have been exceptionally well behaved, communicative, even supportive and open with us. Boundaries are clearly enforced only with the agreement of the group. Finances are completely transparent, and open for anyone to see. The group is growing everyday.
It's nearly 2am and I need to sleep - have a big day rewriting tomorrow. After tonight's General Assembly I sat and talked for a long time with a Farmer from Northern California. We spoke about pretty much everything under the sun. I told him my reservations about the movement, and he made me feel better by saying faith shouldn't be blind, I should be realistic, and not blindly follow. Mr Organic Farmer was the first person I'd spoken to since Burning Man who made sense to me, and then it struck me, this whole set up was like Burning Man without the art, the drugs, the desert and the costumes. It was Burning Man being put to the test: self-reliance to the core. Those two years I was dying and unemployed, god how I would have loved to have had Occupy LA to keep me alive, to have given me hope and solidarity, to have made me feel I wasn't alone.
Mr Chips, by now. was fast asleep in my arms, and I was exhausted and buzzing and happy, and Mr Farmer had to work, and I had to drive home.
I'm crawling into bed barely sentient, so I'm posting this without editing. But I will be at the Occupation every single day I can manage (bar this weekend, when I'm being sent to the desert to work). OK, so I'm going to Joshua Tree Music Festival, but it is for work!
I have a few plans on how to work with Occupy LA to get more people joining from what I think are under-represented classes: the employed, solvent, affluent, educated 10% with decent jobs and cars, and the very fucking poor and uneducated, so please join me over here where I shall be blogging for the duration of the movement, in solidarity with Occupy Wall Street and Occupy LA. I will be updating much more regularly than I normally do as I write about the growth of the movement, and I also plan to interview as many people as possible and tell their stories on the blog in order to show all the cynical fuckers out there who (like me) think this ain't for them, that they're wrong. This is for you. It's your movement. Join it. Walk up, don't think about appearances, put out your hand, and ask questions. Come down to Occupy LA and hell, I'll even buy you a cup of coffee. Or a kombucha.
(For the final time, I didn't edit this. I'm tired. I apologize for shit writing)
MIMI IN NY | 3:15 AM |
