Day 9: I really think this movement presents networking opportunities. (It may also liberate me from the oppressive captivity of our basement). I feel I have much to say, but I spent the last three days with tape over my mouth.
Day 12: I hope my Dad TiVos "The Playboy Club" for me.
Day 16: Today, as I stood in the front of the growing multitude, a member of the leadership guild handed me the megaphone. What a moment! Unfortunately, she only wanted me to remove a jammed battery. Once I fixed it, she took it away. Next time, my voice will be heard!
Day 19: I'm hungry, but if I use an ATM to get cash, the banks win. I think I'll sell my plasma for a few bucks.
Day 21: To think I had a job offer for $52K when I graduated college. What an insult! Those fat cat bankers expect me to work for chump change!
Day 22: I hope my Mom stops by to take me out to lunch. The food here looks like cat scat and Pizza Hut won't deliver to a tent.
Day 25: I saw my college roommate, Hobie, this morning. We didn't have much time to catch up, because he was running late for work. Run along, serf! I can't believe he's buying a house! While most of my fellow alumni are slaves to capitalism, I'm the living embodiment of the American dream. Eat your heart out, Patrick Henry!
Day 27: My money is almost gone.
Day 29: I can't look at another fruit 'n nut bar. I'm going to cave and ask my Mom for a care package. Items requested: clean socks and underwear, macadamia nut brownies, my iPod and a new tent. R.E.I. has one for $499.95, a steal!
Day 31: Yesterday, our leaders announced that we would march to protest an appearance by Mayor Nutter and former President Clinton. This seemed like a good idea, but how can a true democracy (like this movement) flourish when the same "leaders" keep handing out mouth tape for the protesters. Plus, many leave at night to sleep in their homes. BTW, the mayor and prez were no-shows.
Day 32: R.I.P. Steve Jobs.
Day 35: Somebody stole my iPhone - so much for the brotherly esprit de corps. I feel so hopelessly alone. I'm surrounded by humanity but feel like an alien that can't speak their language as their faces are illuminated by the light of their PDAs.
Day 37: Toilet paper is in short supply. Someone ripped pages out of my journal to use as a substitute. I will now use cardboard.
Day 39: I wish I had my iPad. All this writing gives me a hand cramp! What a waste of time!
Day 41: Everything and everybody reeks. The stench (it's like the men's room at the old Vet) is embedded in my nostrils.
Day 44: I emailed my Dad, "Please drop off some $$$." He emailed back: "Get a job. Earn some $$$." Somebody has got to fund this movement!
Day 47: The police are clearing us out. I have been given the honor by the leadership as one of the protesters to be arrested. I hope they bail me out, as promised, since I have an interview tomorrow for a job at the lumber yard.
Paul F. Bradley occupies Yardley.