actually, i made plans to go to seattle before i realized that it was the weekend of the anarchist bookfair, and that we were leaving sf the day of the big 5-year-anniversary-of-the-war protest. 5 years ago i sat on a couch in santa cruz, where i was trying to build a different, rather cursed life, and watched my friends shut down this city. my once and future city. and its easy to feel useless, when you can’t even remember to be in town when your friends are taking to the streets, and that you should be with them.
and it was the first bookfair i have missed since i moved here 10 years ago. it was the first i actually refused to table at, even if the refusal came in the form of new addresses and disorganization and absolutely no idea what time it is. it’s ok, if once you realize that you’ve missed the deadline, the relief you feel is tremendous and the most relaxing ever.
still, i have trouble, now, realizing that march is ending.
how can i keep track of time through a relatively arbitrary outside force like the anarchist bookfair?
how ridiculous is that?
still, it was amazing, when i realized that my phone was ringing, and that it was wheels, and that she was calling to say that she couldn’t find my table and where the hell was it?
its important to be constant, sometimes. its important to remember what time it is.
but sometimes its important to say i am in seattle with my brother and my mother and that is more important.
yes.
so, i will probably be tabling at the anarchist bookfair next year, despite the capitalism and the gross and that one guy who keeps telling us that we can’t cut peoples’ hair, its against some sort of health code violation.
i’ll be back, if only to break that health code violation.
