I took these pictures Monday and just around to posting them today, in honor of a holiday that took place over a month ago. Congration to me, I done it. Not that the entire state of Vermont was much better. Our official Mardi Gras parade was just last weekend. Vermont, as a collective, is very, very high most of the time.
On that note, earlier this week an illegal hash oil extraction lab was busted barely three blocks from my house. I was on my way home Tuesday night and saw more cop cars than I’d ever seen in one place; the story broke a few hours later. Now, I am very pro-drug, politically if not personally. I consider bodily autonomy an inalienable right: my body belongs to me and me alone, and what I put in it isn’t the business of the state. I’ll lecture anyone who will listen about the racism, classism, and ableism embedded in American drug policy. I have no problem with people smoking weed in their own homes, though I wouldn’t choose to be around it.
But this? This pisses me right off. I support drug use because I think consent is the backbone of a free society. And I, as someone who lives in that neighborhood and frequents the club directly underneath said lab, do not consent to being blown up. It freaks me out to know I was thisclose to umpteen potential explosions. And it infuriates me that so many locals don’t see anything wrong with that.
Because I’m an incorrigible masochist, I always read the comments. I expect them to be terrible, but these might be a new low. No, “the man” is not punishing drug users. (I mean, he is, but not in this case.) You aren’t being persecuted for smoking weed – you’re being prevented from sending the whole block up in smoke because you care less about strangers’ safety than about your right to a better high. That is really, really not okay with me.
Dress, hat, & gloves: vintage, thrifted
Cape: medieval faire
Everything else: thrifted