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Sunday, Apr. 21, 2002 / 9:46 a.m. ~We Made the Paper!~ Omigod, first I went to the Metro section, but no, we're at the very front of the paper! Jesus! I don't know it's the best picture of all the ones the photographer took, and you can't see my face too well, hell, it was raining and I put on my raincoat, hood and all, but my fucking name is in bold print! Yikes! I'm freaking out, really. Here's how I was quoted, and I think it's accurate, but not real intelligent: "I came to sepak out against U.S. support of Israel. I wanted to voice my dissent against the U.S. government's supposed 'war on terrorism'. We can't go around killing everyone who disagrees with us and making enemies in the process." Okay, oversimplified much? Um, yeah, but I was exhausted, I was not expecting this photographer to hand me his cell phone and tell me I should talk to his reporter. Maybe I could have said I am opposed to war, I want us to spend those war dollars on affordable health care, quality education for every citizen of this country, for research into alternative sources for fuel... and that I oppose the backing of a country which is forcefully occupying a territory and murdering its inhabitants. Try being coherent with people shouting "FREE FREE PALESTINE!" all around you, the rain in your face, a photographer taking your picture and a cell phone pressed to your ear for the very first time, whilst walking down Pennsylvania Avenue in a major demonstration at the Nation's capital. YOU try it. But fuck me to tears. I'm right fucking there, in the fucking Sunday paper. Do you know how many of my neighbors, old friends, ex boyfriends, ex-communicated family members, co-workers, etc., are reading this paper today? Omigod. Really, omigod. And I have tons to write about the adventure as a whole, what a great investment that CD Walkman was, how I listened to Jeff Buckley's "Grace", The Doors' "Morrison Hotel", "James Brown's Greatest Hits", fell asleep to Digable Planets' "Blowout Comb" last night - awoke in the middle of the night to take the headphones off my head - and Timbuk 3's "A Hundred Lovers", and Chris Isaak's "Heart Shaped World" - and my batteries are still good. I want to write about how I took just the right amount of stuff, how insane it was to see all these cloaked women with children and coolers and suitcases boarding the Muslim buses. And then they complained when we were leaving D.C., "We don't want to wait, we're starving, we haven't eaten since yesterday", blah, blah, what the fuck? Open a cooler, babe. Insane. It was crazy, the combining of our troops, the segregation imposed by themselves, and I just read this in the paper too: "Muslim state vetoes coed swimming: The fundamentalist government in a Malaysian state will ban women from wearing bikinis and from sharing swimming pools with men. Hotels in the eastern state of Terengganu have been directed to build separate swimming pools for men and women." Takes all kinds to make up our world, eh? Hey, have I mentioned that my picture is in the paper? Holy shit. My diary is going to be jampacked today and tomorrow, either here or on paper. Cost of the War in Iraq
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