Wow, that was some great timing. Jimmy and I biked into town on Sunday to see Cave of Forgotten Dreams and afterwards Jimmy suggested we bike down to Occupy Wall Street and see what all the hippies are doing. I thought this was a great idea because I hadn't been there in over a month and surely the interpretive dancing is off the hook by this point. (See video above.)
So we twirled on down there and Lord Almighty it smelled. Like, it wasn't a pungent smell like sewage or fart or piss--it wasn't that obvious. It just felt like, as we made our way through the encampment, we were walking through a big brown cloud of... something. Something that smelled... unpleasant. Kind of sort of deeply, deeply, profoundly unpleasant. Something you couldn't bear to put your finger on.
Anyway, on to the pictures:
Should have brought my viola, my weave, and my earnestness. Left all three at home.
This is where they keep all the dildos.
Cute bicyclist powering a generator with his blurry legs.
Flu shots, first-aid kits, condoms, lube, mints, dental floss.
The PB&J preparation table.
Entrance to the library, which sadly has now been destroyed, probably by illiterates.
Now that's more like it. What I came here for. Thank you, Mr. Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test!
Wait, what's a krip? Isn't that racist? Or, no, I think it's a really potent weed. If so, I think I've found my favorite contingent.
We'll always have Zuccotti. (Well, not in the literal sense.)
And, in conclusion, here's more of the interpretive dance that was taking place across the street from the park. Maybe this is the reason behind the police crackdown?