💾 Archived View for juhi.e-worm.club captured on 2020-11-07 at 01:53:08. Gemini links have been rewritten to link to archived content
⬅️ Previous capture (2020-11-07)
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Aquarius sun moon
I am from the east bay
I am 22 yrs old
I like to draw and paint and listen to music
I love the grateful dead
Vibing to 1971 northrup show.... first ramble on rose! and europe 72, sugar magnolia/sunshine daydream is sooo good on europe 72! China cat sunflower onwards in particular is just a total vibe, ending on morning dew makes me so emo!!!!
An interview with Garcia in The Rolling Stone Rock N Roll Reader offers this perspective on Garcia's approach to musical styles:
"You have to get past the idea that music has to be one thing. To be alive in America is to hear all kinds of music constantly--radio, records, churches, cats on the street, everywhere music, man. And with records, the whole history of music is open to everyone who wants to hear it. ... Nobody has to fool around with musty old scores, weird notation, and scholarship bullshit: you can just go into a record store and pick a century, pick a country, pick anything, and dig it, make it a part of you, add it to the stuff you carry around, and see that it's all music." (pp. 259-260)
Reading
https://ella.e-worm.club/The_Bathtub.gmi
And its so funny how eworm is j a place for our collective neuroses to unfold..... splayed out on the web, unabashed and honest and ultimately helpless.... a feeble yelp into the void!
last Thursday we went to the Ferris wheel in golden gate park, erected for its 150th anniversary, and we smoked a glass j on our way there. we thought we'd be in and out in 30 minutes or so but the line was hundreds of people long, and we waited for about an hour and a half, slowly coming down from our initial high. I was starving, as always, and went to get a hot dog after 5 minutes or so of deliberation as zach held our spot in line. when I got to the hot dog stand, I happened to order the last hot dog, and the hot dog woman said 'sorry all, that's our last hot dog...' as I was in line. everyone behind me (including this little kid) groaned and, partly because I was high, I felt bad at stealing the hot dog opportunity from the rest of them. the hot dog woman realized she should have waited till I left to tell everyone, and she felt bad and apologized. there was a lot of feeling bad, but it was funny since it didn't really matter. anyway, the hot dog was excellent, and brought me some brief joy while waiting in the chilly autumn air in a line that didn't seem like it would ever end.... the line feels like it takes up more space in my memory than the actual ride itself, which maybe is how it goes with all things, but particularly maybe because the ride was nothing to write home about. it's a testament to the natural beauty of san Francisco that a ride whose entire purpose is to elevate you to heights with a spectacular view is necessarily made redundant by the fact that you can access breathtaking views of the city on any old afternoon walk. and somehow then they feel even more poetic, stolen, private, erotic than those that you pay $20 for tickets to. turning a corner and seeing mt sutro up here in the Richmond gives you a sense of voyeurism, but the innocent kind, since you're not offending anyone, and somehow that makes it better, even though maybe the point of voyeurism is to be transgressive... anyway, the view was fine, and we went around the wheel a couple times, then made our way to nizario's for some pizza and mescolanza for tiramisu. we bitched about how the red scare girls don't like nizario's, and how that's indicative about their lack of taste as a whole. there's a light blue vintage truck in the window of the Toyota dealership I like to look at on my way home from Geary...
on halloween, we drove up to Sonoma County to go to a pumpkin patch – I wrangled my friends to join me on my steadfast mission to go to a corn maze, something I'd never done before and have always wanted to do. we grabbed a bite to eat in Petaluma, and I told them about polly Klaas, and how my dad had so many locks on my door because he was paranoid I would get stolen in the middle of the night, right under their noses... the coffee and pastries from della really hit the spot (way better than that fake European bakery in carmel), and I remembered stopping in bleary eyed and Dramamine-d up with my ex's family driving up to Mendocino a few years ago. we were all dressed sort of absurdly and I enjoyed taking pictures of everyone, but we didn't look as absurd as these dogs we encountered that day — one was a huge fluffy poodle looking creature, like a dog that was meant to be small but resized on photoshop to be half the height of a human, and then a weird wook of a dog with matted dreadlock fur that was equally unsettlingly huge. from Petaluma, we drove to the pumpkin patch in Santa Rosa, and were made fools of by the Sonoma sun, as we were all smugly dressed for fall (sweaters, wool, plaid) and it decided to be a hot, dry 80 degrees. we shed our layers and smoked Darren's new vaporizer device, I with caution since last week I accidentally hit it backwards and burned my lip. Antonio thinks smoking is what caused his covid scare so he did not participate (lol). we got kettle corn, got pictures on the hay bales, and did the corn maze, and zach kept throwing ears of corn up into the air from behind to scare us, and also everyone kept running away and trying to scare each other. Antonio and I recorded tiktoks of ourselves doing the 'say so' dance, and when we finally made it out of the maze, sweaty and determined, we went to the pumpkin patch to pick out some pumpkins. there was the most bizarre attraction there, a cannon that shot tiny pumpkins at high speed to fuck up some rusty old cars. I could totally understand the appeal, and if I were less tired I might have made an effort to shoot some pumpkins myself, but instead I sat to the side and watched with awe as people loaded the pumpkins into the military grade looking cannon and totally murked these cars. I wonder when that contraption was invented, it seemed like a pretty old setup, and I was gleeful as an onlooker because it just seemed like a perfect game to fulfill such a base human need, the one to just fuck shit up for no reason in creative ways. the appeal of senseless destruction...
we got lunch at a biergarten in Petaluma, again, and I was happy to be outside on such a beautiful fall day. small towns really emote fall at all times, but there is something special about tree-lined streets shedding orange, red, yellow, and something even more special about being able to drive such a short distance out of the city to explore. driving back into San Francisco was a trip, the golden gate bridge was sparkling, at its best, and though I am always reminded of Elliott, and then my dad, driving on it, the poetic sort of beauty (which in turn maybe necessitates tragedy, sadness, grief) is never lost on me. in any case, there wasn't much time for thinking or dwelling, since we had to rally to get ready for the night - halloween! I rapidly did my snake makeup and we set off for Antonio's in the mission to pregame, albeit 1 hour late, with no idea that our night would get cut short by so many misadventures.
a brief spell of body dysmorphia gave me pause in Antonio's bathroom, where I tried to take so many pictures of myself and every single one disgusted me. but when I looked at myself in the mirror, I thought I looked fine, good, even beautiful, but somehow I couldn't figure out what wasn't working on camera. this made me really sad for a bit, but nothing a couple shots couldn't fix (tequila, the reigning antidote to any bout of paralyzing self consciousness) and soon we were on our merry way. but not for long, since darren lost his wallet traipsing about and dancing with a band of somewhat sus characters, and zach sprained his ankle going too hard to man by skepta jauz remix (can we imagine a time when that song wasn't part of our party repertoire?) we went back to Antonio's to kick it and order Thai, but what really stuck with me was the main character-ness of the whole night, where we (ok, really just britney-Antonio) had the attention of what seemed like the whole mission, and as we strutted down Valencia I really felt there was no one cooler, hotter, more fun, more young and vibrant and exciting than us.... and of course it was maybe all the tequila, but also I think there was some truth there, and maybe that's how the merry pranksters felt back in '64 when they were rolling around in Furthur, and they knew they had something real special going on. no one else in the mission was up to speed, and people kept turning their heads to call out, 'britney, britney!', and in general there seemed to be a sense of awe surrounding us that I don't really think was all in my head. it made me excited to think that maybe there was an audience for us, for general merriment, for pushing boundaries, for doing whack shit in the city, and maybe its more that people are scared or misaligned than that people are hostile. people surely loved us that night, or at least they did britney, and when we went home early I didn't really feel like we had missed out on much.
sunday we went to the farmers' market, I with a vague hangover, darren and zach a few bong hits deep, and we bought flowers, olive oil, veggies, and everyone was nice and the weather was pleasant (if a little too hot on the scorched pavement in front of Eats). I love the clement street farmers market, and it always does seem like the hipsters are out in full force (it makes me think, do others see us the way I see them?). there weren't any cute guys this time (sad) or maybe I was too hungover to notice. I think I said that last week too.... haha. im sad we'll be going back to fremont this weekend, so we won't get to do our little sunday morning ritual, but it will be nice to shake things up a bit. after the farmers market, I was already high, and so I spontaneously decided to eat a little shroom, and was immediately transported to a place of moral quietude. I drew some, and listened to the grateful dead, and felt at peace with life, love, the lack thereof, the road im on and wherever it may take me. it was a therapeutic sunday evening, a time that for me historically has been laden with discomfort and anxiety, and I thought to myself that I am grateful for things just being nice. the other day I cried and cried about how scared I was to die, and then I cried and cried about how thankful I was that I enjoy being alive enough now to feel a desire not to die. I thought that if a fear of death is the price to pay for a life mostly devoid of the pangs of severe depression and suicidal tendency, then by all means it is worth it, and I can deal with it.
Can you believe none of that was even about biden and trump... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I feel fucking sick to my stomach... i dont have faith in anything. Im scared to die, i dont believe we are going anywhere, i feel like it is immoral to have children, i am wasted and i feel like love is fleeting and elusive and i just dont feel confident that anything will work out... i didnt ask for this, i didnt choose to feel this way or be alive during this time, i jus feel scared and confused, terrified and hopeless, and i feel like everything is dark, politics doesnt give me enough of a mythology to feel faith.... i just feel depraved, the emptiness of life, and i cant believe earlier today i was ebiking downtown and singing i know you rider in my head... i sat outside in my underwear and just felt the godforsaken depravity of it all sink into my bones and cried these forlorn drunk tears which cant even fully comprehend the meaninglessness of it all, the nihilism, the what is the point of all of this, the i am scared fucking shitless to die, the who put me here, the who decided i have to go through this.... i feel so physically ill i just dont want to be here anymore....if i think about it too much i cant breathe...
I'm going crazy listening to Cassidy 8 million times... maybe its cuz I'm on my period but it makes me so emo...
if nothing else I will spend my whole life as a 1960s sf amateur historian
Im reading about John Barlow and who knew he founded the EFF? and was also a sus libertarian or something? and he WROTE CASSIDY... California is so actually crazy, this j reeks of the Californian Ideology...
the more I read about John Barlow the more I'm just like :O. this dude had a fucking actually crazy life. actually insane. I would KILL to have had some of these experiences...
there is some radioactive shit underneath this ground I swear... I just cannot believe this connection between like cyberpunk and deadheads... I guess it makes total sense but is also just totally inconceivably absurd...
specifically I cant stop listening to the version of Cassidy from dicks picks 24 from cow palace... I listened to so many others and I was like these are just not as good as this one... and then I just found out that that was the first recording! serendipitous...
I'm reading more about Neal Cassady now, too, and wow, this shit is just wild..... nothing much I can say that hasn't been said, but Im just soaking it all in like a sponge... maybe someday we will be like this...
what is just totally fucking crazy to me is that London breed is the mayor of this absolutely dystopian city that we live in, that I work in, that is just so insanely beautiful and has such a rich cultural history, and is where Lawrence Ferlinghetti opened city lights and Peggy caserta opened Mnasidika and now we have whatever the fuck we have now, like Peter thiel and zuck and whoever the fuck else has overrun this city, VP of salesforce whatever the fuck, and I guess I'm kind of a product of that too, but also whatever, you're allowed to hate yourself... hahah
it just doesn't compute for me.... squaring this city I hate so goddamn much for what its become with this city that I love so much for what it was and now even sometimes in some ways is...
just HOW could all this have happened here, and HOW could it have gone so awry? I guess this a question phds probably spend their whole lives trying to figure out, from a housing perspective, a politics perspective, a cultural perspective, a technological perspective.... I just can't understand it.... can anyone? I so wonder what the people who are my grandma's age, who lived through all of it, who retired to Marin amongst all the whites, what do they have to say about all this? now Lawrence Ferlinghetti is 100+ and nearly blind, and maybe the great saga of San Francisco is coming to an end... or maybe like a phoenix it will burst forth from the ashes and a resurgence of vitality, hedonism, culture, Cassady will emerge from san francisco... from all the yoga startups and alternative milks and outdoor voices and overpaid coders... (sorry zach)
maybe if I say it enough it will happen...
