bitches Peace March in Tijuana 
I saw the list of cities that would join the march for peace increased with places inside and outside the country, without being listed Tijuana. Vi-one days before the date agreed upon from the center of Mexico-Baja California was the only municipality targeted Ensenada. And I thought it would be outside Tijuana, as often happens. Then I thought who can organize? Who will disperse them that pull? I imagined that the Defense of Central Park, or the Casa de Cultura Obrera, or even the Revolutionary People's Front. But I was wrong. The day of national progress (driven by the poet Javier Sicilia after the kidnapping, torture and murder of his son, and friends thereof) followed by the minute reports that citizens were aware of the development of different gears and find pleasure in my mail the hopes: peace march would also in Tijuana, we turn, we support, he claims. Many race demerits
marches (including me, but only when the petty summoned to walk praying and carrying candles) because they say they are useless. I say that least serves to sit criticizing those who speak, and also say the gears actually work: they are symbols, it is true, nothing concrete will come out of them, but leave a precedent, announce (a few are marching because we obviously means silence) that we are not at all indifferent, we are also supportive, also demand peace / justice / truth, we urge that changes, that we are to stem
and we will not expect others to reclaim what we claim for ourselves. They serve to tell the apathetic awake! and we met used to create community, social cohesion, organization and possibly a transformation. They serve to embarrass and to talk about them, good or bad. They are the romantic marches, to the kitschy, but it does serve. As for myself
tune with the march drew several motion logos
+ No Blood, red and black markers in letter size paper. Did for me, my dude and those who wanted. I took apart sheets of paper and markers in the bag if touched. We left. Upon arrival at the venue finally found out who had thrown the pull of inviting: a poet and the Association of Citizens Against Impunity, which consists of parents whose sons and daughters have disappeared (people who carry a lot of pain and even and hope, even years, decades which have been looking for their missing).
At first there were many reporters and photographers / cameramen who went only to gossip because not to march or to publish the note, just to see if it was worth. Jerks (except for those who insult tomorrow publish something, we'll see). I pulled out my sheet, handed out a college teacher who now is a documentary in Los Angeles and Tijuana, friends, and a pair of ladies. One dude even told me "is that if we march with nothing one feels half
loser."
As the call was made later the same day as the workers were few, perhaps 60 people. But we were. Left. In the dark. Long blocks. And I booted whose socks would be the eating. Upon arrival at the monument to Lazaro Cardenas we stopped to document the event with cameras dealers. That took the opportunity to jump into the grass, get me a boot, recover my stocking (which was already cast ball in the big toe), rearranged and keep going, now back.
not yell slogans (although I had a very good case is encouraged). We do not alter the order. Nor cease. The poet (rebellious) told us two protesters as infiltrators, spies, sent to Interior. I do not know, but the posters were the only ones who broke a little tranquility of the march, said:
Out Calderón Murderer! and the Drug Legalization Now! . Strange. At 9 pm we conclude. We greeted each other, exchange data, is to be in contact to support the next call.
None of the people to whom you forwarded the invitation came, neither artists nor activists, nor poets, nor journalists, nor argüenderos. We do. Also 60 others. Maybe 70. Men, women and children. Children who carried the canvas with the faces of their brothers, their uncles, their parents missing. Children who have explained their families "when you grow up you will be smarter because they'll know what are injustices, and you know what to do. " Although a woman, mother of missing child, told a reporter "not know whether what we do is right, we do not know if we will give results, but we tried." And there is no choice, I say there is no choice. Try.
Before Cerati's room I stopped to look at the beach. I spent a couple of minutes standing in front of this gray landscape, without distinguishing the line between sky and sea. I watched the full outside the hotel, which under the cloudy white flashing brighter. The festival passed. Cerati was later added to the lineup, it would be surprising (as when Manu Chao unexpectedly invited to sing with him). Come in. Looked anxious. Starved and makeup. Questioned about his participation in a young woman, with long hair and tan rowdy. The atmosphere was strange. She never saw his face. Nobody gave him answers and like a true rockstar-made gestures in the air. He demanded an explanation. why I have announced? asked repeatedly. I saw a soup Maruchan and I understood everything. I spoke: I know why you have not been announced, but do not want to say because you're going to freak . Asked the woman to go by the producer. Advanced distressed. Left alone. Sat. I spoke again: what happens is you're still ... hesitated. I took courage and reframed: what happens is not yet awake . I looked. He changed his clothes for a suit. And I woke up. 
