It was a Saturday, and the grass was green; the people were hungover. Everyone shouldcontribute something to a day at the park. Mine - a beautiful Indian tapestry, delicately beaded with mirrors and embroidered with renderings of the majestic peacock; purple in color. This thing is rather large, too - three full size, full-length adults or more. Tapestry done brought good karmas to our spot yo.
There were a few things that happened, extraordinary and ordinary at the same time. In order of importance.
- Bubbles. Someone was thinking outside of the box.
- Silent dance party. Fun to watch, thanks kids for reminding me that I am in the Mission. Also, your fashion is faaaaaaaaassssssssssh. The red vest does me in every time.
- Renovated vintage suitcase, recycled into a boom box. No joke! Check back for the name of the artist.
- Recycling. If life were a park, there would be no waste. . . . B4 consumers have a chance to toss the kombucha bottle towards the bin, someone is ready to usher that thing into recycling heaven. Call me condescending, or even pointing out the obvious. But this developed system of need fares quite well for the environment. Thank so much!
- PERFORMANCE ART. I heard them coming . . . as if they were fleeing from stampeding cattle. Maybe a hundred foolz, screaming bloody and hell and running down the hill, through the park. Mass pandemonium. I'm like WTF. Should I run? What are they running from? Hundreds. WTF. . . . And then applause. Oic. I am in San Francisco.
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