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Month: September 2004

Protesting in Madison Square Garden

September 2, 2004
A crazy day. absolutely maddening with this apartment situation. found a place. then the building decides that they don’t want a musician in the place. asks for five months rent up front. fine I say. Here it is. then they say there is a board I have to go through to get approved. This is just to rent mind you. has nothing to do with buying. Just to rent a place. they check your credit, your work history, your taxes, its insane. Dealing with that all day. And then off to Madison square Garden to protest the gw bush acceptance speech with thousands of others.

Called Chapper this morning and told him “dude come by my hotel. I have a ton of calls to make but you we can hang out and you can order room service and watch me work for a few hours. Oh yeah, and will do me a favor and buy me a broom…” “A what dog?” “A broom. I need a broom. Just find one and bring it to me.”

So old Chapper arrives and actually throws a broom on the bed. I was pretty impressed I have to say. Of course I unscrewed the broom part and just used the long handle to hold my signs I was making. So after this ungodly long day where I learn that I am not getting this huge sum of cash I thought I was getting on the phone now and on top of it I have to come up with five months of NEW York rent to the tune of about ten grand, and something they call brokers fees to the tune of another three grand, and so now I have this sudden realization that I am broke. Like flat broke. Like I can’t buy lunch in two hours if I get this apartment. And I don’t even know if I will be approved for it anyway. But worse than that, how am I going to live? this fear shoots through my body and honestly I had this uncontrollable urge to lie down and go to sleep. Its all my body could do because it was like I went into a panic. But I didn’t because I had to go to this stupid meeting at the realtors to have them rape me and take all this money from me.

Anyway, I made it through and then after that I called boo boo kitty and said c’mon lets go march and protest the evil empire. So I get dressed up in my newest character, the general, who made quite a stir at the MTV vmss, and I go to hail a cab to get to the protest. Boo boo says to me, “what kind of a protester stays at a five star hotel while he’s trying to rent a park avenue apartment and then takes a cab to the protest site?”

“babe, this has nothing to do with money or class or style. This rebellion against bush has to do with good versus evil. There are those of us who are poor hippies fighting this battle. There are those of us who are rich protesting I’m sure. And yes there are even those of us who are poor but live like we’re rich, like myself, completely committed to seeing that this guy is brought down. So lets just catch our cab and catch up to our fellow peeps. we got some protesting to do.”

we get to the site. and what was it like? Think tens of thousands of people carrying signs crowded into ten city blocks. From 20th street to 32nd street. All the way up eighth avenue. Shoulder to shoulder. Everyone carrying signs and screaming and shouting and chanting various rallying cries of the revolution. I feel very much at home in the large protest groups. Like I am among family. No matter where I go in this country of ours to protest for one cause or another I always feel very safe and homey with all the other fight-the-good-fighters.

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Uncategorized Labels: apartment hunting in New York, living in new york, protesting bush administration, protests, transcendence diaries

article 2019-04-29 124623_26.html

September 1, 2004
9am, in the airport, no coffee yet, carrying my pillow around — because when you fly a lot you soon learn that your pillow is like your best friend, and a suitcase. I am starting to feel more comfortable in the airport than I am in any other surroundings. Is this a good sign? The drill at the security gate is getting easier: a mad dash of less than five minutes, leave boots untied, grab three plastic trays. Empty pockets, take off boots and belt and throw it all including phone, pda, sunglasses, and wallet in one tray, unpack laptop and throw it into another tray, put briefcase into another tray, toss pillow and suitcase onto the belt and walk through. Hope you don’t set anything off, and that they don’t randomly choose you for s strip search because you look like a terrorist type. Your stuff goes through, and then in less than a New York minute you reverse the whole procedure, collecting all of your things, and stuffing all your stuff back in your pockets, and then dash to your gate. I know a lot of people who don’t fly because of how crazy this aspect of flying is for us now here in America since the terrorist attacks, but do it enough times and you get used to it. we’re a resilient people and we can get used to anything if we have to.

New York is brilliant right now. the weather is crisp and clear and sunny. The people as always are nice and friendly.

Hey Flash,

Thanks for the heads up about what’s going on down there. Feel free to forward this to our fellow friends in soflo. While you all are busy preparing for the hurricane, I am here in New York City in a storm of our own; up here now with hundreds of thousands of other people who have flown in from all over the country to march for peace, and in protest against the occupation of Iraq and in protest of the Bush administration in general.

Tomorrow night during Bush’s campaign speech literally hundreds of thousands of people will be outside Madison square Garden doing everything in our power to make as much noise as possible to get the attention of the world media off of the RNC and onto the voice of the American people (granted, this select group of people — but an amazingly large body of people of all ages and races are represented here in solidarity for this movement) it is truly inspiring how many people are here all over the city sacrificing their time energy and money, with only one goal in mind: to get this administration out of power. We have not seen anything like this since the sixties.

Good things indeed. Wish us all luck and success and safety.

Peace,
Fishy

Its about midnight now. I’m exhausted. Sitting in central park to smoke and write. O.k. looked at apts all day. def think I found one. I’ll say it again, more beautiful girls here than any other city in America. Just wonderful. I don’t mean like sexy or hot, like in LA or Miami, but I just mean beautiful girls in what they appear at least to posses on the inside. That smart sassy witty cultured and stylish look. If I want to, I can be married within the year. I just felt that being here the last few hours.

I have been getting calls and emails all day from friends from all over the country who are here to march and protest this week. I cannot believe how many people from every generation is here for that one reason… its inspiring. now that I have found a place I can take tomorrow and spend all day on the streets making noise and wreaking havoc for the evil empire that took over our nations capital three and half long years ago. There are cops everywhere in this city! I mean everywhere. I have never seen anything like this. police in cars, in motorcycles, helicopters, on foot, on horses and in big paddy wagons.

I’m going around all day with a realtor looking at all these posh apts for rent and purchase like I’m some rich capitalist rock star, which to a certain extent I certainly am. Little did they know that my suitcase is filled with peace signs and protest propaganda and tomorrow I’ll be hitting the streets with the rest of the hippies. America. What a country.

Luckily the republican convention has come off very much like a silly made for TV circus and the media has done a good job of reporting on it that way. almost. Tomorrow night will be the test. We’ll see if we get the message across to the rest of the world.

One thing I’ve noticed is that somehow strangely enough I seem to have more friends already here in New York than I do back home and I don’t even live here. its just like all of friends from over the years from various aspects of my life have been moving here the last few years.

Today in the bathroom I was reading the new book by Howard Bloom, mass brain I think, something like that. an amazing social-science read, one of the most brilliant and interesting reads of modern times… reading it and reading all the accolades about it I was reminded of all the other great intellectual reads that have been written over the centuries by us and how important they all seem at the time, and then in that moment I had this remembrance of what I have slowly been coming to terms with lately… that in the bigger picture none of it really matters that much. We can make all this intellectual stuff mean a lot to us if we want to. certainly. We can take our daily dose of politics and poetry and prose philosophy and religious studies and what not, but in the end, we can just as easily go sit on an island somewhere and so nothing and still get to the same place. the life is so big and so mysterious that I don’t think it really matters what we do as humans here. its till going to be the same big mysterious life with very few answers and a lot of conjecture and second guesses about the meaning of it all.

In the elevator a few minutes later I had this realization, and I barely dare write it, that still in the end, the thing that matters most is going to be how much money we can create so we can live happy healthy lives and assure the same for our families. The meaning of it all in the big picture is not going to matter half as much as is our ability to take care of ourselves and our loved ones and assure our survival while we are here. that’s what’s going to really matter.

I think about the difference between Beaver and me. he’s got a good job that pays him well and a beautiful loving wife and kids and a great home in middle America. I don’t think he’s ever even been to any big cities even here in the states, let alone in other parts of the world. He never has the time to read or study or research or learn foreign languages or protest or be a social activist. And me, I get frustrated with myself because I cannot speak fluent French well enough to communicate with the Haitian cab drivers here in the city. We live polar opposite lives in those respects. But he’s as happy and content as can be. I’m still going to keep studying and researching and traveling and roaming and searching, fighting the good fight, marching and protesting and voting and doing my best to give whenever and however I can, because I believe in what I’m doing, but in the end its still all about love and money. I felt that today. I really understood it for the first time. that it’s a choice we make in how we want to spend our lives here. And either way we choose is just as good and noble and meaningful as the other

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A private little world for me… a private little world for you. The online journals and musings of singer-songwriter author and activist Ed Hale. The Transcendence Diaries have been posting regularly online since 2001. Comments are always welcomed. And so are YOU.

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