Good Times In Dystopia
Back at the flat, I notice a quote from a Johnny Cash song on the back of his door, the only graffiti in the little room. He plays me the song, the dead outlaw wannabe singing of how it was better for a man to hang than work like a dog on a chain-gang. We do some more speed in tribute.
‘They might come with the strong-arm — the riot cops — and then it will be very violent. Since the criminalisation in 2010, they come in waves, evicting district by district. There is still some order, as they tell you when you are on the list, and on what day they will come. If they didn’t, there would be too many riots. Most people just tend to move on, leave the place.
‘Have you ever been inside before?’
‘No, but I’ve barricaded a number of times. This will be my first time inside.’
We check out each other’s politics, and with a fist-bump, I am glad to throw my support in with them. I will be inside, despite the futility of the position. There was no other way to be genuine.
“Fuck it.”
‘They might come with the strong-arm — the riot cops — and then it will be very violent. Since the criminalisation in 2010, they come in waves, evicting district by district. There is still some order, as they tell you when you are on the list, and on what day they will come. If they didn’t, there would be too many riots. Most people just tend to move on, leave the place.
‘Have you ever been inside before?’
‘No, but I’ve barricaded a number of times. This will be my first time inside.’
We check out each other’s politics, and with a fist-bump, I am glad to throw my support in with them. I will be inside, despite the futility of the position. There was no other way to be genuine.
“Fuck it.”