Occupy 2.0 Day 3

The temperature and the dates continue to be asynchronous in the melange of weather which seems to have transcended the unseasonal into the aseasonal.

Guy with dreads walks up with half a cigarette.

“Hey man you got a light?”

I handed him my lighter.

“Nice man. I just found this on the ground. Fucking awesome right?!”

That seems as good to set the tone as anything.

The new Occupation, much diminished, seems to be, when not screaming clichés, screaming for them. The inmates are running the asylum, the madhouse overturned, Occupy’s nut gone flake. The library offerings today were, quite appropriately, an overflowing bag and an attendant stack of works by Danielle Steele and her numerous acolytes, all appearances suggesting them unread and unloved. Thank god for small graces.

The small cadre left seems sadly the sort who, I cringe at the crude language, have little else to do besides hang about a public park. A neo-Stalinist who wouldn’t leave the table complained to me the neo-Maoists were nothing but cultists. I used the phrase “dialectical materialism” and he had no clue what I meant. A couple high school girls asked me what Occupy was about. “I heard the country’s gettin’ real bad and we like…we’re becoming communist or somethin’.” I tried to explain that no, it was closer to representational oligarchy and they said “Oh yeah, same thing.” and walked off.

People who would normally mutter on the subway realized they could mutter in mic checks and so we hear perpetually refrains best refrained from, except the couple beggars with boomboxes from whom we hear “Just Dance” distorted. “The State” has become the all purpose sentence subject, the attendant authority to swaddle the drifted in the self-importance of their own paranoia.

An evangelical passed a pamphlet, “Frequently Asked Questions for the Second Coming.” The first question: “Where did everybody go?”

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