Getting Ahead

I just woke up from a dream in which I was a ghoul snacking on a severed head. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to me, the zombie apocalypse had happened and the head started screaming at me. It was actually kind of comical, but it hath murdered sleep, at least for the moment.

Grey is camping with and photographing the protesters down by City Hall tonight. He has what must be the most luxurious revolutionary encampment ever -- I dropped him off with his tent, air mattress, pillows, nice blankets, candles, bug spray, fleur-de-lis flags, friends, and an assortment of snacks and drinks. I myself am occupying my bedroom, at least unless the cats get all fascist on my ass and evict me. I don't know about this whole protest thing. I guess the scene in New York is pretty serious, and the cause is certainly righteous if simplistic (huge corporations suck; poor people need more resources), but down at Duncan Plaza it kind of looked like an elaborate game they were playing, very much with the permission of the police and city government. Our friend Guthrie of Refuel Cafe is going to bring a hundred servings of his famous grits in the morning (and someone will inevitably complain that they're not vegan). Well, it's a lovely moonlit night for camping out, and I'm sure they are all having a good time, and I'm probably just a jaded old asshole for thinking the whole thing is a little bit silly.

Earlier today we felt like getting out of the city, so we drove down to Shell Beach in St. Bernard. Grey had never been there, but being an island boy at heart (born and raised on Martha's Vineyard), he loves being around boats and water, as do I. It was too buggy to go on the birding trail, but we did see a beautiful male Vermilion Flycatcher, my first lifer bird in quite a while.