#occupyamerica

it's weird when you think you're immune to certain things. when you think, "oh it couldn't happen to me." and then there they are, on the doorstep to the cracked foundation of a country, housing lawn chairs and sporting picket signs. picketing the idea of the white-picket fences. the only difference between them and those inside the confines of wall street was not the knowledge of the weakness, no, but the exposure of the weakness. realizing the vulnerability, and then grabbing it by the mouth and forcing it to show its black tongue. shoving used books and stale bread into it to prop it open to show to everyone. you've seen it before in egypt and syria and these far-away places that no one really cares for beyond their oil regions. these places that house savages and turbaned men and potentiality for colonialism. but america? the land of the free? suddenly the actions of bashar al-assad don't look so far off as we see the brutal abuse of authority demonstrated with batons and arrests. suddenly these distant lands are brought into the forefront of our minds and their perspectives become more 'understandable'. you'd never think it'd happen here, in the west, where we're democratized and peaceful. we certainly don't attack our own people, we only attack other country's people. because what do you do when a child cries? you shut them up.

ONE BIG RAMBLE