The irony of backalley blogging on the FP has already been noted. As has this:
Sometimes while prowling back alleys you find things that don’t bear the light of day, brass ritual cymbal turns out to be a trashcan cover, exotic seafood dinner is really rotten fish guts.
Yet perhaps there’s some truth to these lies.
Here in NYC the sun has gone down. That’s the time to prowl.
With no apparent purpose, I will say that from an artistic view I’ve been frustrated by folks characterizing the far left as a given known group. Ever since I started hearing the stories of the hippies from the 60s and their adventures, I don’t see how they are ever truly portrayed in our political discourse and yet I would maintain they are the true left who inherited the real mantle from the same folks who worked for social justice in the 30s and 40s, those who came from Eastern Europe for good or ill who had a real revolutionary vision of equality and human rights which was passed through the wild American filter culminating in a generation of visionaries who to this day have not received their true (and well deserved) portrait in our album of history. I’ve also, in recent years, come to both meet and read about some of the fierce young people who have that same spirit but in a far more difficult environment, they hop trains and live on the street and protest from sheer howling passion, and these kids have not had their portrait included either. Anyway, just had to get that off my chest.
