I don’t know who reads this thing. The Web is slower than ever. Still, I’m trying to get my site and blog listed for what they’re calling “enhanced access” so you can reach it. The expense isn’t the biggest problem. The new Digital Code Of Conduct invites censorship and expulsion—after they get my money.
The authorities are afraid people will post irresponsibly.
We need Americans to march out of their hidey holes into the streets – naked, sick, frightened – and shout at the evil bastards who are exploiting our misery to grab more power & wealth at the expense of innocent and honest, unconnected folks.
That sort of thing, ya know? We just can’t have it here.
Are any leaders out there using their power to help people? Are they all bent on wrapping us in fear—turning us into human tacos to be gobbled by an insatiable state and its corporate partners?
If you’re still reading this, please let me know how your communities are dealing with the repression. I can no longer reach lots of blogs I’ve come to rely on for unmediated information. The fog thickens.
To dispel the murk, I took a long walk with Anna through the East Village. Tompkins Square Park looks about as bad as it did when I first moved here. People are camping under a sign that says their buildings burned down, thank you very much. The lawns have been torn up, presumably for graves. Or are the soldiers of RAISE digging up corpses? We didn’t stop to ask.
Anna and I wandered past countless shuttered shops down to Houston Street, where we turned west because it felt safer. When we passed Second Avenue, we realized we were at a spot we’ve never discussed, but which it turns out we both love: Liz Christy Garden.
Created in 1973, it’s considered the area’s first community garden. Stone paths wind past a busy little turtle pond under a cypress tree. And it’s supervised by cats.
We expected the spot to be closed. But one of those remarkable creatures—a masked volunteer—was tending the greenery as we peered through the fence. She and her companion waved us inside.
It didn’t take long to unwind in there. We kissed to the sounds of trickling water and of tools turning earth that cares nothing about influenza and injustice.