They had all these systems in place then too but these people just didn’t care about that shit. They were facing police/natl. guard brutality. They said fuck it.

Keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheel

I remember on one of my last couple days at my last Starbucks there was this customer who I guess is a regular who often comes with his dog. He was wearing a Cal sweater and I commented that Berkeley was my favorite college campus. He said he went there in the 60s/70s and I was like “Oh wow, did you know Mario Savio?”

I asked if he participated in the protests. He said he didn’t, he “was there, just watched…” How sad to have lived through such a monumental moment in history when youths were gathering to generate public attention to problems that needed to be addressed. I don’t want to feel like that. It just sucks because I don’t know if economically people had more spending money but to go somewhere to protest costs: time away from work, gas, food, etc. Then you can be arrested and shit. Not to mention when you’re still going to school too. We have all these systems put in place to keep us in line and keep us busy.

Feeling strange and nostalgic about the past. What could have been but never was. I’ve held but never had. Seen but never felt. Imagined and hoped for. Illusional memory. Subconsciously drifting; cutting through new waters with the same wade. Same pace, different place. Different people - same floating, same drifting, floating along. The light peaking through the leaves, through the shade; the cold.

Remember that time Danny and I dove into the water. We just went with it. Daring and cold. Fucking stinging nettle. It was exciting and I felt adventurous. I wonder if the trees saw a different side of me that day. I’m usually there in my spot - trolling. Stoic, pensive, and resting. Lost in nature. Running to run away. Running to catch my breath. To reach the bridge, and troll. Think and smoke. Am I scared? Maybe I should be. Maybe I should be afraid to rest on the soft sand of the bottom of a creek. A tired traveler gets weary sometimes. The sand is so inviting and my eyes are heavy.

-This is about escapism, being daring, and getting away from your troubles taking a nap in quiet woods on soft sands. How beautiful and silent it can be but also dangerous. What if you’re sleeping unsuspecting of any type of danger, and it creeps it’s way in. Even though it’s possible you do it anyways because of the tranquility and beauty. It’s worth the daring adventure despite the risks.