she moves she

Does anyone want to go to Belize?  I’m sick of concrete.

I’m reading a book for school called Armies of the Night by Norman Mailer.  The book is about a protest that took place in 1967, a demonstration to protest the war in Vietnam.  Mailer, at the surface, comes across as the quintessential ass but as I keep reading I feel like I have something in common with the man.  Granted I do not piss on floors or drink exorbitant amounts of bourbon but there is a lack of sentimentality and regard (for the political) mixed with a passionate flare for drama that I almost connect with.  Also, Mailer doesn’t think that protesting actually accomplishes anything, yet he’s there anyway marching with a group of guys minutes away from burning their draft cards.  I can’t help but think about the war now and my own march on Washington. 

In 2003 right before the war began, one of my professors, Lee S., and I boarded a bus outside a McDonalds in Anniston, Alabama (or was it Center Point, Alabama?) for an overnight long haul to Washington, DC (I sat next to David Cross on this bus for twelve hours without knowing but that’s another story).  Twelve sleepless hours later we arrived in DC.  This was before I knew what cold really was.  Alabama winters are speckled with a few days below forty degrees and even those temperatures were experienced only by running from house to car and car to house.  Throughout this mass march it never rose above twenty-five degrees and by the end of the day waiting for our bus, I was walking in a circle because I thought that if I sat still I would literally freeze to death. 

The march was huge.  They were expecting about 100,000 people but in the end they estimated that about 170,000 – 200,000 showed up.  I walked around in a furry coat snapping as many photos as possible.  (Five or six rolls of film, all black and white because that was more journalisty.)   The event was pretty anti-climactic.  We walked instead of marched, we sang some songs, some people held hands, others chanted. I didn’t participate in the march as much as I was watching and listening to everyone else.  Then once we got to the capital, everyone dispersed and…that was sort of it.  I don’t know exactly what I was expecting.  Maybe I wanted to see George Bush ride by in a limo, sticking his head out the window, awe on his face as if to say “Ya’ll really don’t want this war do ya’ll?  Ok I hear ya!  We’ll think of something else.”  But after a full day of cold (with only one strange reprieve–Lee and I found a botanical garden and hung out under some palm trees for a good half hour drinking hot chocolate) I only saw two faces in the crowd that I recognized. Kerry Russell from WB’s hit series, Felecity and Patty Smith.   

After experiencing this thing first hand–walking over a mile to the Capital Building, jumping on trash cans etc. to get good shots of the 170,000+ people herding down some famous avenue–the Washington Post reported that only 30,000 people marched and The New York Times, 60,000. 

Why? Why? Why??  In Armies of the Night, the same thing happened.  It’s despicable.  The impact of a protest is the amount of people!  Is there any honest reporting?  How does protesting help at all?  Where is Norman Mailer?  And after all that and all the other protests since…where are we? 

This morning I had a dream.  Christina and I were in Los Angeles painting the town red.  I was on a hunt for the perfect Bloody Mary when I ran into Adrien Grenier of HBO’s hit series “Entourage.” He was eating french fries and we fell in love.  We were happy together for five minutes until he walked by a huge crowd and shouted “Who wants my autograph!?” It was then that I knew he would never truly love me because he was far too in love with himself.  So I left him in a sea of crazy fans and went to meet Christina for another Bloody Mary.

The SPRY initiative was abandoned for far too long.  I blame full time school, full time work and the stress resulting from that combination.  But honey…chic just got her SPRY back. 

I plan on opening the webzine up for submissions at the beginning of June.  This means anyone, anywhere can submit anything.  Personal stories, art, fiction, poems, music/movie/television reviews, op eds, ANYTHING.  We need content!  Please spread the good word. 

 www.sprymag.com