Reincarnation of Hippies?

I am jobless. I quit my job I hated and am now on the hunt...again. I have spent my days reading the A.V Club articles and looking at Paris Hiltons mug shot. What is wrong with me. This isn't me. I hate Paris Hilton, and mug shots for that matter. Although with the time off, I had had the opportunity for some more fun. Yesterday was jam packed: breakfast with Chris and Katy at a Belgium Crepe place in Hayes Valley, off to Golden Gate Park for the Vivienne Westwood exhibit, which by the way was inspiring. She was and is a one woman show, self taught, and started an entire generational movement almost single handily, with a little help from the Sex Pistols. Amazing. We checked some of the rest of the de Young, but didn’t have time to see everything. It was a really great collection of art, very eclectic and design focused. I loved it.


We then went to a live 'performance art' piece, which turned out to be more of a 'living art' piece in Golden Gate park on the top of strawberry hill. Only in San Francisco can I hike up a hill only to find vegetables mourning Buddha’s death. On to the next thing, the Haight Street Parade! Enough said there, use your imagination, just close your eyes and picture what a Haight Street Parade would look like. Got it? Yes, lots of hippies, music, pot, and homeless people. It was great. The parade was basically four different stereotypes of people copied over and over again.

1- Burnout hippy guy in a tie dye shirt and a long beard, begging for money. "I could be robbing people" declares their torn side of a brown box sign, next to his Starbucks cup full of pennies. Thanks smelly homeless guy! You’re not violently robbing me, only subtly robbing me! And while I'm on the topic, De raised an interesting question yesterday, how can all of these homeless people afford Starbucks?

2- Not homeless hippies. These are the hippies who put money into their lifestyle (i know, irony). These are kinds of people who exchange hugs for good vibes. They noodle dance while the band plays, and generally don’t do any harm, so I say "right on!".

3- Artsy music snobs who stepped out of their studio apartment to see what all the fuss is about. Their eyes pass judgment on the live music and art tents underneath their black-rimmed glasses and shaggy chic hairstyles. "Who’s this band playing?" you ask and they respond "oh I don’t remember the name, its kind of like bloc party meets velvet underground, post john cale that is. Kind of like a lo-fi Decemberists with a little sadcore thrown in." Wait....what? Excuse me?

4- and last but not least, the really really drunk person. Now at any other parade this would seems pretty staple, but this is Haight street. So now the guy acting like a frat pledge initiating in the middle of the Kentucky Derby’s infield screaming "Show me your boobs!" is not the life of the party, he is now the stoners buzz kill. "duuude, what the hell man, chill. woah, he’s like, a total buzz kill, ya know?" says the hippie in the token lethargic voice.

So thats how I ended my day, interacting with those four people. Over and over and over again.