Generation

Sharon Tate et all were brutally slain by some hippies…
how different were they from the ones who drove away from Yasgur’s farm, 10 days later? 

How devastating and confusing the energy that must have crept into the most beautiful chaos! 

Watson, Susan Atkins, Patricia Krenwinkel, and Linda Kasabian–drove from Spahn Ranch to 10050 Cielo Drive in Benedict Canyon

Wikipedia

Ours wasn’t Jim Morrison or Lennon. 
Ours was Tupac and Kurt
Ours was the other side of a coin, on one side the most nostalgic beautiful hurt and the other
we can’t look,
Gen X.

The winter of our contagious something in the dark spark in your eyes when I suggest something terrible like going to Independence and 290 (Heroin Highway, as affectionately referred to by the locals.)
when a bag is smaller 
when the need for oblivion is no different but the depth of it must go further in order for it to take longer to come back up,

they won’t find a solution for at least another 2 generations.

So “grab a bottle, hunker down, and pray for daylight” but not too soon, the sun is hot the
clothes are black the Seattle bell swings back and forth in April. 13 and a half times in April.
And then 13 and a half times again before the moon comes out of the dark, so indifferent to the day’s story.

it’s just another day.

Ours was not Jimi or Janis, ours was angry
contagious 
enormous 
love without enough antidote.

Woodstock was an opportunity for people to escape into music and spread a message of unity and peace. Although the crowd at Woodstock experienced bad weather, muddy conditions and a lack of food, water and adequate sanitation, the overall vibe there was harmonious.

https://westportlibrary.libguides.com/woodstock#:~:text=Woodstock%20was%20an%20opportunity%20for,overall%20vibe%20there%20was%20harmonious.

we had to kill ourselves instead to feel the wave 
we had to roam in a different jungle where we should never have been and at the same time 

protest from home (we knew what we were doing was wrong but “my God!” we said to ourselves 

…”we couldn’t get to Canada in time!”

The bell tolls the draft calls the guns fire the cervix closes too soon.

Up to 3.75, down to the cold brown shag carpet with concrete underneath.They said we have to go to the emergency room.  
“I left Missoula for you!” is how she weeps for all of it. 
She cries over it 
and the baby 
and Jeff 
and Tupac 
and Kurt 
and, sure, even the wave of free love that died that night in Benedict Canyon. Less than a week before the 32 acts and dancing in the rain. 

Ours wasn’t that, but it was something.

We didn’t have an entire movement to die in Las Angeles and rejoice in Woodstock 10 days later.