Luckily, my dear roomie Shannon is a huge Kerouac/hippy/beat fan, and amongst her bookshelf goodies I discovered Haight Ashbury Flashbacks by Stephen Gaskin. Apart from all the drug paraphenalia which is so clearly alien to me, one little story popped out man, within a bunch of easy-to-digest tales.
Stephen was telling me how some cats liked to ride on their own coat tails by claiming that everything was some sort of omen. Everything. He thought these people were nasty, and should be avoided.
Another creature came into my house on Sunday morning... this time I was woken by the flapping wings of a wee sparrow that had flown in through my (other) open window. He was harmless, and managed to work out that there was no glass over the door, after experimenting a couple of times on various windows.
What does this mean, people? Wondering how I would have faired in the Haight of the 60s, here are some options:
- I am destined to live some sort of ménagerie for eternity
- Don't leave your window open in Vancouver
- Grounded for a while, ready for flight
- Raccoons are very pretty, aren't they?
- Too much carrot juice may in fact make you high