I thought of my grandpa today when I saw this photo and had a little cry.   

It made me sick that I don’t do enough (anything) to make things that matter better.   I feel gross sometimes, how much energy I invest in all my stupid little goals which have a positive impact on precisely no one.  

There’s a generation of people who never thought of themselves because they never had the luxury, who knew a society can’t flourish unless it organizes to protect its disadvantaged.  James Guadnola was incredible and if he were alive still, he’d have loved the goings on at Occupy Wall St.  He was a fiery, profoundly ethical old Italian who loved politics and activism, and was liberal in a time and region where that was rare.  He was observant, impatient, and blunt (a potent mixture for sensitive dispositions)… but basically an all-around badass.  He passed away four years ago and I miss him.  Ninety-four years old and sharp as a fucking tack til the end.   

We loved each other a lot, and I wish we were going to the protest tomorrow together.