Had the plug the hometown.
Thank you for your time.

Good morning, pups. The NYT has the odious Ms. Collins writing about Mitt Romney’s dog. You know the story… Judith Warner writes about children’s mental health.

http://mgpaquin.wordpress.com/

Coffee and tea are all ready, and there are croissants today. Have a great day.

and to think i used to like gail collins. sigh. live and learn

Good morning from Chicago!

Just for you morning guys, that texB photo of the girl with the hand in the air is me.

HIiiiiIIi Egy! I knew it was you the moment I saw your eyes.

http://mgpaquin.wordpress.com/

Coffee and tea are all ready, and there are croissants today. Have a great day.

Just for you morning guys, that texB photo of the girl with the hand in the air is me.

Thanks, Montag, for the great stories of SF in the day.

You’re welcome, such as they are.

Going to the Coalition for Peace Action’s annual Hiroshima Remembrance tomorrow with Mr. NJP. It’s been interesting following the contretemps between Clinton and Obama over use of nuclear weapons. The Remembrance Ceremony tomorrow will feature a Nagasaki survivor as keynote speaker.

Work for peace, every day.

It’s a damned good time to remind everyone–including Ms. Nothing’s-Off-The-Table that nuclear weapons are the ultimate collective punishment.

Work for peace, every day–damned straight.

It’s overcast and muggy this morning in central Jersey, with another day in the 90s on the way. I’m getting ready to hop on the bike for bagels, and I made a new pitcher of iced coffee last night.

Thanks, Montag, for the great stories of SF in the day.

Going to the Coalition for Peace Action’s annual Hiroshima Remembrance tomorrow with Mr. NJP. It’s been interesting following the contretemps between Clinton and Obama over use of nuclear weapons. The Remembrance Ceremony tomorrow will feature a Nagasaki survivor as keynote speaker.

Work for peace, every day.

A.Citizen @ 215

Well…these guys are mildly amusing but for the real 80s deal ya gotta go Tubes dudes!

I actually lived this song with a skinny waitress I took over to my coke dealer’s pad….left her there sometime around 3 am as she would not shut up.

He never forgave me.

That was the 80s.

but this one’s better.
it’s from the 80s.

the concept, camera work and editing…….. brilliant.

well, that’s about it for me tonight. montag i look forward to reading more of your trip

Ah, well, it was mostly more of the same. After all, it was only a few days, and without much money. Not enough time to reform Dirty Dick–or repair the hole in his floor–and not enough courage to leave the military and become a hippie in training. :) Or to make lasting impressions on the populace or on us. :)

If I knew what I know now, I would have been spending lots of time on Telegraph, visiting the bookstores, frequenting City Lights, and occupying time with people in People’s Park.

It’s a bygone era now, and my time there was limited, in a lot of ways. Just wanted to give younger people a glimpse of what SF was like, then, and to suggest that the opportunity to stop a war and change the course of the country made people different than they are today. There was a culture there that was, despite its dependence upon similarity (wasn’t just about everyone doing flowing paisley posters of rock band announcements then), very energetic in a way that’s, somehow, missing today.

San Francisco was, in the vernacular of the day, a “happening” place, and that was not an accidental term. There were things going on all around the town. It was, then, a generally happy mix of freaks, working class, cultural mavens and uptight assholes. For me, it was utterly new and refreshing and wholly unlike anything I’d known previously.

If I’d not been in the military then, I’d probably never left it. It was, then, captivating.

But, then, there was that time in the barracks, where a tall thin guy who I’m now am almost sure was Marv Ross, later of Quarterflash, who liked my twelve-string playing and forced me to play the Byrds’ “Do You Want to Be a Rock and Roll Star” over and over again with him for two hours one night, and said, “I got a band in the Northwest, look me up when you get out,” and gave me his address on the Washington side of Portland. And I never did.

If he’d lived in SF, maybe I would have.