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4:20 (smot poking and other activities)
so...for
those unaware (though i assume there are few) yesterday was 4:20. in
santa cruz, every year on this date and around 4:20 in the afternoon,
many UCSC students gather together in a meadow to smoke pot. now
really, i'm downplaying it, because i sort of want the pictures to have
more of an effect. but really, it is *incredible*. we all know i live
in a hippi town wherein probably over 65 percent of the population
smokes weed....and though ive seen the meadow pilgrimage once before,
it was from a distance and i didnt pay much attention to it. this year,
however, it was on the list of things i definitly have to watch.
now, i dont know if you're really getting the situation. behind porter
college (my college, ofcourse....known for its' freaks, weirdos and
hippies) there is giant meadow. entirely in plain sight of anyone and
everyone who happens to go to porter, go for a hike, have dinner in the
dining hall, etc. and once a year, every year, litterally *thousands*
(yes, i said thousands) congregate there and decide to break the law in
broad daylight. yesterday a few of my hosuemates and i headed out there
to see the festivities. our street (which is the street that goes
around our university) was impassible. cars lined the side of the road,
and people walked in crouds.....to the meadow. at each bus stop, there
were at least 50 people. when our bus was getting remotly close to
porter, traffic litterally stopped. hundreds of people were walking and
driving from all directions as the time neared 4:20 pm. not a police
car in site. in-freaken-sane.
now, im not saying i
necessarily approve of two thousand people gathering in a meadow to
smoke illegal drugs. dont get me wrong. but i find it simply
*wonderful* that such a thing is possible. i'm not sure why, there's
just something beautiful about it.
it was a sunny day in
santa cruz, california. the redwoods and eucalyptus trees dently swayed
in the ocean breeze. people sang songs, played instruments,
mingled....and there was a cloud of smoke standing over the meadow.
here are pictures, as proof and entertainment.
people walking to the meadow
you get the picture (haha)
i think this one shows the quanity of people pretty well
thats mita, andreas and i
in case you didnt believe it, our mascot is *actually* a banana slug.
there he is! (the one on the right ;0) i dont know who the other guy is.
more people
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| today morning came at the edge of the known universe. the trees across
the street stood like sad old friends, fossilized in the white mist,
and beyond....there was nothing. and it was thick.
i spent a lot of time this morning remembering. the look of his face.
the sound of his voice. the way he looked at me. the way
sometimes....around him i would stop feeling alone. entirely useless
thoughts. they got lost in the fog and just kept wandering around in
circles.
i spent the afternoon fighting the feeling of two pencils borring into my scull.
i was quite alright, one could argue, by the time i sat on the bus to
go to kairos. only in my head i was singing "i am alone, locked in my
memories, there's nowhere left for me to hide. i feel like a place
where no one goes anymore..".
a guy got on the bus that looked very familiar. he had a guitar. we
sort of smiled at eachother because we both recognized eachother, and
yet said nothing because we couldnt remember where from. finally i
asked, "where do i know you from?" and it turns out it was from kairos
(christian fellowship), freshman year. i told him i was on my way there
and asked if that was where he was going. he said "no, i dont go. im
not a christian anymore. "
i was struck by this. struck numb with despair. he isnt the first, or
the last, and i found myself praying for him as i walked from the bus
stop. and praying for myself, that i would not become the next.
the first song we sang was in some african language. for some reason,
through the bouncy tempo and the cheerful tone, i was filled with
visions of african believers, of the poor, of the dying....of those who
have absolutly nothing to hold on to but their faith. i did not feel
like clapping, i felt like being dressed in black from head to toe. i
felt ashamed.
night fell, tonight, on a little place at the edge of the known
universe. streetlamps floated in midair, people wandered in and out of
shadow and the trees looked like me holding on to the edge of reason.
the bus drove away and disappeared. and there was nothing. and it was thick.
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to quote carrie bradshaw, "twenty-something girls are just fabulous...until you see one with the man that broke your heart." | | |
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it feels like the thursday night. of my 66th year. after a long haul up
mt. fugi with a camera and a pidgeon on my back. it would be hilarious
if i werent so damn tired. my weekend was like getting caught in a
hurricane. cows flying at me, electricity going out, power lines
tangling and the neighbor's cat getting stuck in my hair. plus, i
encountered a pack of coyotes. at night. (that part actually happened).
today was not particularily exciting, only i kept expecting it to end
but it didnt. and i kept expecting that tomorow i would get some rest,
but no, its only monday. i got up at 830 as is the custom after about 6
hours of sleep. went to greek and felt like wringing out my brain
afterwords....maybe if there werent so much water in there, i'd be able
to retain more information. went like the wind through the story-book
towering trees to my art history class on the other side of campus.
damn art history. managed to not fall asleep this time, though, only by
virtue of a video replacing the slow quiet drone of the professor. i
went home and ate lunch, grabbed my wood stuff, and back to the art
department i went. wood shop. i procrostinate. sculpture is due
tomorow. i found myself face to face with 8 tiny hinges, 32 even tinier
screws, and one really awful screwdriver. two hours and four hinges
later, i had to leave because the woodshop was closing. i borrowed a
screwdriver and some wood glue and lugged myself back on home.
the evening took on a relatively normal progression. tv-watching,
dinner making, more tv watching, corn bread, tea and housemates.
followed by a ridiculous length of time on the computer, chatting with
people ive never met and yet feel close to, and wondering about all the
things ive thought and felt and existed in this past weekend.
its 1204. 8 hinges attached. i piece mostly glued. about 20 more to go.
time....why dost thou hate me so?
plus, did i mention, i have a lovely cross shaped cut on my finger from
the time early this afternoon that i stabbed it with my screwdriver. on
accident, ofcourse. leave it to me to stab myself with everything
humanly possible. moron.
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| having three homes is a trip (waiting to happen). i got to go home 4
times in the past month. something clicked in me over break. my heart
was wrung on two accounts, reborn on three, tried and found guilty
almost as many times. i found myself lying in the snow near the train
track somewhere in the desolate fields of illinois. it was worth
looking at, and worth changing. i think thats the most important thing
i learned. i have but one judge, and right now, for a short time, i
feel it almost as certainly as i know it, and thats motivation i
desperatly need. love is hard, and im not really sure i can take it
right now. or rather, take it being taken, as always once again. i
enjoy being redundant twice over, i think of myself as a repetition.
something my dad said really stuck with me....he told me the only way
that i can deal with the unfortunate chronic melancholy of my soul is
to create art. it seems so simple, and yet, for some reason, i'd never
thought of that as an explanation. it is not only "i am that i am" but
"i am that i am so that i may
do". now that, i think, is a revelation worth noting. one of those "ive
always known but never really understood" sorts of truth. and i have
planned it (or have stepped finally unto God's plan that) i should have
much that i may do. and its coming upon me fast, just like the tide
today.
each night i pray that the following morning i will remember my will to live.
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