To my glorious leaders in Minneapolis and those whom you have to suck up to in order to do your job…

5/30/2020, 10:29am

My fucking town is on edge. The Minnesota National Guard has been activated in full force for the first time since World War 2. When precinct 3 burned down, you probably knew that the American police state was put on notice; the same police state that has been gathering strength ever since it took root as the armed mercenaries for slave-driven capitalists many generations ago.

In other words, shit’s getting real.

My spouse and I are hearing credible reports of agent provocateurs setting fires to commercial buildings and, now, maybe even houses in the neighborhood. Today morning, we discussed having a bug out bag in case our house is set on fire…we plan on taking turns keeping watch through the night. Good times. And I come from some third world crazy my dear leaders. Boy, are we missing our moment right now.

We live a few blocks from where our community brother, George Floyd, was murdered by one of your armed mercenaries whom you seem to keep genuflecting towards while figuring out which butt cheek you must vacuum seal your lips to (you do know the police union chief is a white supremacist right?)

This moment is your chance to emerge as real leaders for the people, as opposed to cowardly agents of capital and brute authority. Make an announcement to DEFUND THE POLICE NOW by announcing a full adoption of Reclaim The Block’s 4 part petition as a starting step. This will immediately require you to: (1) Never again vote to increase police funding or the police budget, (2) Propose and implement a $45 million cut to MPD’s budget as the city responds to COVID19 shortfalls, (3) Protect and invest in community-led health and safety strategies, and (4) Do everything in your power to remove all psychos from MPD and kick ’em to the fucking curb!

’nuff said…Susanne and I are heading to this meeting in Powderhorn Park with a fucking broom and dustpan.

(I don’t even like cleaning my own house, and now I gotta clean up the crap that some suburban, basement-dwelling shithead has caused. Fuck 12 and fuck all y’all too.)

kind regards and much peace,

Sri (Bancroft, Southside)
612-636-9895

Where the heart is…

My people.

My town.

This idea has kept me moored during times of isolation and stress.

The idea of my people, an amorphously defined bunch of humans and non-humans whom I would stand with when the going gets tough. People I love. My kith and kin.

Geography has always mattered in this regard. Even with all the breaking down of geographical barriers to aid communication via the internet – the actual geography of where we live in, find ourselves building a home in, whether rooted over generations or as generational voyagers, matters in terms of who I define most immediately as “my people” – which is why the idea of my town matters so much to me.

And just like the ever changing circles of my people have changed over the last four decades of my existence, so too has the idea of my town.

Some have stronger resonance than others – Chennai the place of my birth, Dubai the place of my toddlerdom, Bangalore the place of my childhood and youth, Toronto the place that adopted me to settler privileges and where my daughter was born, Minneapolis the place I met my great love and where we returned to following aforementioned birth of child.

But there are others too, towns that I remember often. Some are towns that I actually called home for a year or more. Others offered memorable experiences in my journey as a generational voyager. I love thinking about the different places that have captured pieces of my heart. I wonder if this journey finds it’s ultimate end point in Minneapolis, or elsewhere.

I’m curious to experience whatever it is that my myriad timelines have to offer.

I’m up for whatever the multiverse sends my way.

When I die, I don’t want my body to be buried or burnt…

I want it donated to science – to be dissected, picked apart, and analysed by geeks and nerds who don’t get squeamish.

If there’s money to be made from my body being ground up and dissolved into a myriad solvents for microscopic viewing, I want my loved ones to get a cut of that cheese.

Whatever information and knowledge that is gained, once published through peer review, must be made free for anyone to read and use in their intellectual pursuits.

Yama is my homeboy.