The morning after Occupy Los Angeles was cleared out I sat at the table with Brian, ranting with my loud and revolutionary heart. Somehow, things spill out of my mouth, as they have before, things filled with violence. I say things, angry things. People should be afraid to make that much money, I say. I know this is a threat.
On the radio, Happy X-mas (War is Over) plays. I pick up my little girl, I rock her and I cry. Because it isn't a civil war I am wanting. The anger is wetted by my sadness. I look at my breakfast, I look down at my daughter's head. I feel how complex the whole thing can be. I feel sad and scared. I feel mad and stolen from. I feel like fighting. I feel like making peace. Mostly I just feel bad and I cry.
