Summer 2009

Gratefully Dead

It’s a different world here. I try to explain the people I meet herewhere I’m coming from. One year of probation, william and mary, virginia, northern virginia... I wandered around the city and headed towards Golden Gate Park to find this famous “hippie hill.” There were a bunch of hobos at a bench, smoking and playing guitar. It felt like a nice vibe, but I didn’t trust them so instead I played ukulele on the hill behind them. Eventually, I met some friends and those hobos at the bottom of the hill. One was wearing a Fantasia Mickey mouse wizards hat and a tie-dye Grateful Dead shirt. Another kid was wearing a yellow beret hat and a coors light salvation army jacket with a patch of an old shirt on his sleeve. The patch was apparently also of an old grateful dead shirt that had gotten so old and worn that it had to go. I couldn’t imagine how bad it must have been, because the Coors Light jacket was pretty dirty itself. The kid with the fantasia wizards hat ketp saying VIVA LA FRANCE! he's moroccan and guatamalan and was raised in nigeria. the other kid with the beret was the happiest kid in the world ever since that lsd trip a few weeks ago. it apparently put everything right for him.

Anyway, another girl was wearing a military jacket over a tie-dye sweatshirt that was at least 3 sizes too big for her, and her neck was adorned with peace and shrooms necklaces and were obviously made of hemp. She had just had her sleeping bag stolen from her and was trying to figure out a way to have a warm night outside. This other kid, with a red worn out bandana around his forehead was trying to get 4 dollars so that he could get butane (?) to make hash out of marijuana, and would get random folks to contribute and was living day to day doing that. But they were all such a pleasure to be around. They didn’t do anything more than weed and understood very well how dangerous the other shti could be. they're living on the edge of insanity, balancing their minds through community if that makes any sense... sorta like waht we do at w&m and 919... keeping like minded people around us so we don't feel like the fucked up ones =)

They stayed away from speed and heroine, and were just living for love, pretty much, trusting the way of the universe, getrting what they need and enjoying what they have. This one guy had a dog on a leash made of a belt, and whenever people would ask how are you, his reply was "Can't complain. if i did i'd be an asshole." It was an amazing environment and I was so touched by these peoples lifestyles. I joined them to go to the youth program where they would be fed by some kind hearted citizens, not even church related, just humanist. Eventually these kids, even the old ones, started to all look like the Lost Boys of peter pan, while retaining all the romanticism of the Lost Boys, playing dress up, trading hats for joints, giving away crackers and cookies. They talked about their lives at this youth program, while being fed and drinking through cereal straws (which is super weird, btw.) We ate cheese sandwiches with ketchup and mustard, and broccoli with ranch. I didn’t really eat much because I had no appetite. I was too overwhelmed with the grace that surrounded the volunteer at the door. She had a lip ring and two huge gauges, and a smile as big as the room. She was like “let’s talk about substance use and abuse!” and talked to these kids on shrooms about the effects of ecstacy and cocaine. These kids never did ecstacy or cocaine, but had been around plenty of people who had been affected by that shit.

They lived deep fucking lives. This one kid, the only one of his family who is still in San Francisco, who was really into grateful dead, spent 8 months in jail because his brother was on his 3rd strike so this guy had to take the blame for his brother because they had already lost a brother to an overdose.

He had a mood ring on his finger that turned black the day his brother died. I hoped throughout the day, if I filled it with enough joy (which he was definitely contributing to) that it would turn pink or purple, but it stayed black. He had a limp from a skateboard accident, and his little feet hurt as he walked up and down Haight-Ashbury. He showed me how to get home and he was a very kind friend with a pure heart. The kids in the neighborhood called this boy Taki, the peace keeper. He ahd a giant peace sign on a chain that was made in 1972 at a peace-meditation gathering, wehre people would get together and pray for peace.

I’ve been raised in an environment that ridiculed these people for their lifestyles, but they just didn’t choose capitalism, or were victims of capitalism. It’s a shitshow to see. I watched a guy get busted for shrooms, and some undercover cop was patting this guy down…

There’s a good cop bad cop dynamic here that is really interesting. I met the Elder of golden gate park (GGP), his name was Philip, and he’s got family in the police force. He sat at a table for breakfast with his dad who was an officer, so he knows and respects cops. But he is the peaceful seller of herb on a hill in GGP. But Phil said most cops were cool and understood that cops are there to serve the people, not bust them and if you’re not causing any trouble they’ll leave you alone. But he also sadi there were those cops who can’t get used to the idea of having freedoms like smoking herb on a hill, and will try to bust any kid for a little bit of pot. They have the right to, after all.

Within 4 years, I hope marijuana is legal here, because this shit is not a crime, and its ignoring the real problem. Seeing the youth program operate was a huge heart warmer. This girl, Krista (?) and these two other volunteers, out of pure curiosity and good will, talked to these Lost Kids about their lives and problems. It was amazing. Feeding them, giving them bus tickets, food, health services, and not judging them. It was marvelous. Then I got home, and my sister and my mom and my sisters boyfriend are all worried about me because I’m getting to know these strangers. These hobos. These “addicts.” But nobody I met was an addict! I interacted with a few addicts, and even understood some of them. Some of them mumbled to themselves and were in their own world and two of them were a little touchy about what you said to them, but I was with the peace keeper, and he made every situation a pleasant one. I am so overwhelmed with emotion at that point, because…

There was this rasta man who asked me where I was from. I said I just moved from DC, and he asked me where my eyes were from. And I got offended, cos I’m from fucking Virginia, where that’s not okay because if I said I’m from America, I’m from America and if you’re questioning that then you’re a racist and need to be put in your place. I automatically got defensive. Then Taki goes up to this guy, I’m already half a block away, huffing and puffing in anger. Then Taki brings the guy back and the Rasta Man tells me about how I may be a mix of races but I’m also so much deeper than that, but he just wanted to know what my lineage was, where I came from, that my lineage is reflective of who I am now, though it does not define me because it is so much more than the sum of my parts… or something like that.

I didn’t have my notebook with me these last two days. I don’t even have a notebook right now, because I can never fin da Barnes and Nobles with all these hippie stores haha I want a moleskin and have a gift card for a Barnes and Nobles so I’m waiting for that, yknow? Anyway, a lot of good stuffh as happened, and I’ve had my heart broken by my family. I love them very dearly, but we clearly have vey different values. I get along very well with my mother, and I feel like I’m trying to make her see from my eyes. And she’s trying, but she’s a mother so she’s worried.

I want to live a life I can write about. A life like I lived in the last two days. I might smell a little bit, and my finger nails might get dirty, but I’ll learn a lot and be able to create something out of the rubble of lives created by the city of broken dreams: San Francisco.

The dreams are coming alive again, though. Everybody feels it if they’re in tune. I’m utterly convinced that we are on the brink of a shift of consciousness. Maybe 2012 prophecies were accurate. I can’t think that all those thinkers of the past who invested so much energy in the philosophy of 2012 could all be wrong! The stars, the cycles of history, all make sense, really. It’s hard to see it in linear time, though. I see us emerging out of a very dark period (the 1969s to 2009). Reagan, Johnson, Nixon, Bush, Clinton, Bush, and now Obama. Obama is a little shine of light on this whole situation and the citizens are starting to feel like we can accomplish something. With Bush it was pointless. Why even fight? The white man is going to oppress is anyway. Sure, Obama is part of the system, but we know how to do this from the inside. We’ve learned our lesson. The government will be the government. It just has to be us, then.

We’re having a 40th anniversary of Woodstock celebration in October. I hope its successful. This feels like my summer of love, if that makes sense. It’ll make sense to half of you, or maybe less… well there are 10 kinds of people. If you’re the 0 you understand. If you’re the 1, you don’t. That’s binary, btw.