Strawberry Fields

I was just listening to “Imagine” and it made me nostalgic for a world I never really knew, like living with Yoko Ono, cuddling with John Lennon, the 60s, the 70s. These things never were part of my life, of course, but I’ve watched enough Mad Men, heard enough Beatles albums, experienced just enough walks in Central Park, through Strawberry Fields, and delved into enough other psychotropic experiences to muster up an appreciation and even a make believe nostalgia for something my parents flew in mad flight away from: pot, porn, parties, pranks, pleasure, pure, Dionysian madness. Another time. A better economy. Exploration amidst superfluity of freedom, creativity, and commerce.
Today China is taking over. No offense, but it’s everywhere and yet everyone seems no where, compared to yesteryear. When I visited the Fog city as a kid it was packed, the BART was packed, it was bustling, fast, anxious. A global city. I guess it still is, but it feels quieter.

oops, distractions over coffee.
more later. All I’m trying poorly to express is how deserted this urban world feels at this moment, like a precursor to inevitable apocalypse. Why? What’s up? I suppose everyone’s either unemployed or working from home in front of a computer screen. Professional avatars and all that.

Also, what’s this dub step craze? Is is coastal?

I can’t decide if I am torn over leaving New York and should plot my return, or if I came back to the Bay again because I belong here, and I should find a place in the city and figure out what it’s all about, this magnetic pull. The pull lies mostly somewhere between Glen Park and Mission/Valencia streets. In Portland lingo, that is somewhere between NW and Alberta in NE. Somewhere between intellectual, and charming quaintness, and hippy hipsters. I’m pretty burnt out on hipsters though. It’s not the same term from Ginsberg times. Because there are less books, I guess.

My head migrates to the past a lot, the ones I faintly knew and the ones I read or watched movies about…There are lots of people from my past resurfacing, probably geographical influences.