A guy I new briefly in New York died last month. Through the great synchrony of the Universe, I also found this old journal entry written shortly when I took this photograph which has been on my office wall for decades with the tittle—Peter Pastorelli Smoking a Joint in the Silver Room. The room was… Continue reading The Silver Room
Dear Pete, I guess there is no way I can accuse you of not giving me enough time between graduations to come up with an inspiring letter. All the same, I have been meaning to sit down and word process you a few lines of fraternal wisdom for several weeks without finding any cosmic theme… Continue reading Letter to Peter Bishop on the Ocassion of His College Graduation 1982
August 1967 I arranged to meet my brothers in the Ashleigh Brilliant grove of Golden Gate Park at 1:00, and proceed to the Panhandle for a Mime Troupe play. Paul and Mark hitched as a pair and I set out on my own. At 11:30 I was standing outside USave (University and Grove) when an… Continue reading SUMMER OF LOVE
Korrin and I are riff surfers. nice post
I stood anxiously with the others. We all waited, silently, many staring down at bright little screens, to board the long elevator down to the metro. None of us looked at each other, and the man with the sign didn’t look at us either. He didn’t call out, forcing us to acknowledge his existence, pushing us to feel the discomfort of witnessing suffering. He simply sat in his wheelchair outside the elevator with a smile on his face and a cardboard sign in his lap—something about an injury, something about needing help, something about God bless you.
We all boarded the elevator, packed like sardines, yet somehow still unaware of each other’s pulses. I let out a deep breath, and I tried to ignore the twinge in my chest thinking about the man with the sign. I thought about the man from five years ago who didn’t have a sign…
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Thursday, August 15, 2013 Blacksburg, VA We drove in the dark from Memphis to Nashville. The morning drive to Louisville followed the Bourbon trail through horse country. Louisville seemed happier than Memphis and the Lorraine Motel. The ride from Louisville to Prestonsburg was something else. We moved through horse country (and the end of the… Continue reading Travels with David-Virginia 460