Wine Harold Bin 000004

There's a shortage of honesty in the room. Really hot backless dresses though. Also booze.

There can be no protest without the proper permit.

There! Look! Something moved. Beyond the tree line. You don't see it? Look!

Truth Serum, they call it but it's not doing it's job. Other than getting pairs to slip out quietly, ditch their lying friends, couple up on the sidewalk and behind minivans. Not lying, really, that's not fair, but silent in the moments where truth is what's called for. Some version of it. It, as seen by the speaker at least, the friend getting into trouble over by the bar, one of the bars.

To march today, you would have needed to get the right papers signed six months ago and requested Burgundy level clearance one year before that. You would have been denied of course, because of what you want to say, where you want to march, how you want to rhyme it, the megaphones made in china, the sneakers made in sweat shops, the bag lunch made in the Park Slope vegan restaurant. You would have needed White clearance to appeal, which doesn't exist.

Let's keep moving. At least there are raccoons in these woods. Bears. Escaped mental patients. Smoke monsters. Philosophers with guns. It's dark here. I'm not a hippy. Let's not camp. I've changed my mind. I'm allowed to change my mind right? I want to change my mind.

A few deep brown glasses and a few more are supposed to get us to the point of openness but it's easy to swing too far, past the bawdy singing, and end up passing out. There is no serum. There is no truth.

You call it speaking truth to power but your truth is lousy with holes and your power doesn't live in a big brass building. You want to shout. You want to count. You want to fix things. You want to count. Yes, you could march. Yes, you could chant. Fifth Avenue is just an echo chamber. There is no building. There is no power.

The truth is camping never sounded good to me. I don't even like to leave Manhattan. I'm not interested in your interests, I'm interested in you. And if I'm gonna be in the woods, alone with you could make it doable. Maybe I lied, but you saw what you wanted to see. Anyway, there's something wrong behind those trees there. There is. There is.