sigh. im in love.

On Oregon, the first stop:
I walked around Eugene's Kamping World (no joke) clutching the Pocket Poets Series on Allen Ginsberg and thanking Jesus Christ that I'm not chained to a tiny trucker town like Coburg, OR. The restaurant we went to was called Country Pride and it had cutesy menus that said "If it's not ready in ten minutes, it'll be ready in fifteen!" (hilarious, no?) The long corridor to the restrooms was strewn with games that you could win an iPod on and pedophile-looking truckers who checked me out and I really wasn't cool with it.

On where I happen to be right this moment!:
Ahh, coming to the part about love. I'm in SAN FRANCISCO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Okay, that's a fib. My family is staying with friends in Oakland, but we have been in San Francisco daily. It is where I belong. It is my calling, I can hear it, calling me: "coooo-cooooo, molly, live here, start a commune, embody the hippie lifestyle you fantasize, cooooooooo"
Yes, San Francisco, I am coming. Give me a few years. I'll get there, slacker that I am. I'm still here (until Saturday), but I miss it already. I can sense the ghosts of the freaks of past, pulling me back. They need me, to single-handedly recreate a scaled Love Generation. Scaled to my commune! I visited 710 Ashbury street (the Grateful Dead's former communal residence, for all you non-Deadheads). It was beautiful. All the houses are beautiful. Life here is beautiful.


God, what a rambly post! I hope it properly expresses my one-ship with Haight-Ashbury.