The crowd was diverse. The mood was cheerful. Lots of dogs, babies, and grannies. Bicycle cops lounging at the perimeter.
Today’s march in Montreal was more a gathering around Place des Arts. I saw as many men as women. I saw lots of pussy hats. Mainly I saw a huge number of clever signs.
Some were older, no longer active, or retired, or ill, so while it was sad for many, it was not “tragic”.
My first apartment downtown in the 80’s was near a repertory cinema, and I could decide at the last minute to attend a midnight screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Full audience participation was de rigueur, and sometimes I would look around before leaving and find rice or toast or a newspaper to bring for props. The story is ridiculous and utterly absurd, and has become beloved like an often told, but X-rated, fairy tale. It doesn’t take much exposure to chant along with the audience responses, and repeated theatre viewings only enhance the experience.
Even successful people can be suffering privately. Those Born to be Artists tend to explore the world through an empathic lens. Bruce Springsteen’s characters and montages are only possible, because as a writer he was able to slip on the coat, or walk in the shoes of other (usually struggling) people.
All around the world, people are loaded with hatred. Young men in particular are taking their hatred and finding something to align it with (and there are plenty of “causes”) in order to feel justified in expelling their rage. When recent events have targeted any community you can think of, there is no common target. The only commonality is hate and rage. Continue reading