by this point i’d decided that because the police are so adamant that i must not “continue the offence” on the same day, that must be what i should do.
over the last 10 years i’ve been told innumerable times by police, magistrates and judges that i have no right to do as i do, and i’ve always told them i will respectfully decline to be bound by their opinions.
i don’t think the amount of time that passes between my periods of active disobedience has anything to do with anything.
but the fact that the police find it that much more disobedient if i disobey their directives on the same day is reason enough for me — disobedience is my aim, and if it draws an even more ridiculously harsh response to my rational and harmless behaviour, greater shame on the punitive system.
it was funny how personalised the policeman “luxie” was making things (“i don’t take one, i take everything”), clearly personally irritated at my refusal to respect the authority vested in him by the state of victoria, but all the while claiming the whole thing was emotionless, black and white, textbook performance of duty (maybe he should be a judge).
they can take my bucket, but they can never take my freedom to dream of procuring another bucket.
it was interesting that the police didn’t show up when i went out later that afternoon (after realising my dream of procuring another bucket), i guess my leisurely cross-city crawl bamboozled everyone, or the police were called and just couldn’t be fucked with all the work of following through with their threats.
it was very odd when the “critical incident response team” (i guess they are some kind of riot police) pulled up behind me, i first thought it was an over-the-top response to my “continuation of the offence”, but then some plain-clothed guy jumped into the van from the tram stop and they drove off, who knows what that was about.
