Hippie (freelover) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-08-03 16:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | hippie subculture, rehab |
Who: Hippie and OPEN Rehab
What: Chillin
When: Monday Afternoon
Where: Central Park; Strawberry Feild Memorial
Warnings: Drug Use, TBA
It had been a good day, but then most days were for Hippie. She had slept late, as usual, before uncurling from her bare mattress. This time, it wasn't from her van, but from the vacant apartment in an abandoned building that she had been squatting in for the past few years. She had taken the van to Free Store and volunteered a shift, before making her way to Central Park, somewhere that was quickly becoming her favorite place. She remembered spending days there during be-ins, back in the glory days. Of course, things were nothing like that anymore, but there was no harm in remembering.
She had visited the mosaic dedicated to her John, leaving a lit candle and a rose she hand plucked from a bush. A rose from the same bush was tucked behind her ear. Now, she was laying in the grass of the lawn, eyes focused but unfocused on the wide sky above her. There was a fat joint between her lips and a lightness in her heart. She had a yoga class to teach later, but for now she was content to stare at the sky and listen to people around her. A man was strumming on a guitar near by and she closed her eyes, listening. When she closed her eyes, she could pretend she was in a time that seemed simultaneously like yesterday and like a million years before. She could almost feel the love and peace and passion in the air. These days the air seemed disappointingly flat and lacking of all those things. It reminded her that she had a job. Not to help maintain the free store or to lead a yoga class. No, her job was to enlighten and teach love and peace.
"Imagine there's no Heaven. It's easy if you try. No hell below us. Above us only sky. Imagine all the people. Living for today..." she sang softly as the man's guitar plucking took form into a song.