People are giving Wilson money to thank him for killing an unarmed black teenager. Please report this to GoFundMe, as it violates their Terms of Service and they get 5% of the tens of thousands of dollars being donated. Click to report.
This is my message, in case you want to copy and paste:
Your Terms of Service prohibit “items that promote… hate, racial intolerance, or the financial exploitation of a crime.” Take a look at the comments that come with the donations on this page and tell me that doesn’t violate your terms. “Support Officer Wilson” is a thin veil for people rewarding Wilson for killing a black kid.
Your terms of service prohibit items that “promote .. hate, racial intolerance or financial exploitation of a crime.” Comments on this page suggest that this is a forum for racist - and financial - support of the murder of a young unarmed African American man.
and then friend colleagues come to visit with an idea for a thing and they leave and he talks about leaving and you’re so sober stinking not that you say
you need to heal
we are here inextricably bound
you can go
and he says that’s not fair and gets it maybe or doesn’t
but for once he says leave and you don’t clench up and maybe we can do this thing after all
or we can’t
but we go down ( not that ) trying
GPOY mid day conversation about trauma and learning; control, connection, meaning.
currently: at PT
refugee project meeting to follow
Darren Wilson is still on paid administrative leave. Whereabouts unknown.
the world continues to spin, mostly out of control out of reason.
white people, I have long lived with my privilege and think about Pastor Niemöller, think about Gary’s abiding questions, about thought and about action.
how it continues to no one’s surprise, except it does, and we are and we shouldn’t be. tiny pocket of northeast complacency, white skin unearned privilege. control. power.
stroke: eight bazillion miles of bad road, with the occasional lull and rest area and ‘scenic’ view and actual road and path and progress and then, ha, no. back you go. sideways. up is down, yes is no. when your only tool is language everything is a word you can’t find
penis gate has been irrevocably altered
cluster of extended work thing, hurry to post office during a break to retrieve a certified bank letter about a thing that Justin fixed later that same afternoon (and on his birthday and not the first time either that he’s fixed a thing) and tired so palpably by the end of the day we could taste it, touch it, smell it, hear it.
read it like Treasure Island.
this morning upstairs sounds and basketball thwack and birdsong and sun and the cold edge of August
and heart hurt and how to hope