Walking the streets of New York yesterday, with some hope to end a war before it begins, I felt at ease. This is an odd mood to have when the air is bitter cold, a line of cops on horse back just rode up to push everyone off the street, the city is on some weird orange alert and my government is about to bomb the fuck out of someone once again. It was as if it was familiar day. I felt proud of the strangers around me, from the anarchists to the police (whom I felt as individuals might agree with what we were saying this time…love it when cops break face and smile when they see some guy in full glam drag carrying a sign saying WAR IS NOT PRETTY).

Anyway, I thought it was a positive day.

Later in the evening, I went to see The Pianist and the whole ugliness of war that I fear will soon begin came back into focus. permanent link to this post