Dear 'Brother'
I miss you. I know you never liked being called a hippie, but this song plays and I think of you.
"My hippie boy don't want to be a man,
My hippie boy don't want to understand,
My hippie boy lives in a Volkswagon van."
I wonder where it is you went off to. You still have not responded to the last email I sent. Part of me is hopeful that you managed to get out of the box that your failing health forced you into. I know how much you hate the whole plastic, mainstream living that comes with normalcy. I know how that house was like prison to you. Part of me is hopeful that you made it back out west and have a tent set up somewhere near a stream.
"My hippie boy don't know how to communicate
He says he knows love that knows no hate
My hippie boy leaves his life up to fate
Yeah, he's my hippie boy."
It made sense to me when you told me what one of the infamous 'them' told you. I always wondered why it was that no one seemed to get either of us, yet somehow we made perfect sense to the other. Maybe that is why you called me sister and I called you brother. Some people do not see things and some people see everything. Some people never open their eyes and see where the signs tell them to go. You never knew how to do anything else. "
My hippie boy don't know his own feelings
Wants to draw flowers on my ceiling
I think my hippie boy is trying to do me in."
I know when you were on the streets no one looked at you. I know how people can be so sh***y and look through people like they are invisible... like they are ghosts and not real people at all. You kill me with worry and humble me with the way you want to place beauty in the places people never see.
"My hippie boy won't follow the commandments
Don't follow laws, he don't follow government.
My hippie boy wants to start his own settlement.
Yeah, he's my hippie boy."
Sometimes people are not bound by convention and preset standards that we are just supposed to stupidly and blindly follow into the mouth of hell. Sometimes people are progressive beyond their time and see what the world could be instead of pretending they do not see what the world really is. I love the way you see the world and I want in on that picture, my brother.
"He said, "...come sit beside me.
Tell me about the things you adore.
And please don't remind me
that I am not the boy you'd hoped for."
Bloody hell, darlin', if you do not get in touch with me soon I think I will lose it. I am trying to keep it together and behappy for you and assume that you are where you need to be to be ok. We all need a sanity check sometimes. We all need someone to ground and center us and you get it when I talk. You get what I say and you know how to deal with my brand of crazy and when I say oh brother I think I need you, I am in no way shape or form kidding. No, we do not live up to the imposed images of others of who and what we should be. But you are on your own, everything you ought to be and everything everyone else should be, as far as I am concerned. I want to hear about that lighthouse. I want to hear about how you cooked for those people. I want to hear how you see trees and grass and how no matter what you never give up your faith in people... even if you cannot save the world you can be there for someone.
"My hippie boy won't get up off his ass
He don't care if he fail or if he pass
My hippie boy... I know he's been smoking grass."
You frustrate me sometimes. I know you frustrate yourself. Doing what needs to be done and what does not need to be done often blur into one thing that seems impossible to pull apart. Sometimes there is also a fine line between nonconformity and conformity. Doing the opposite of what we are supposed to do still takes their rules into consideration. The people who treat you how they do... do not let them have that power over you. You are better than that. You know who you are and what you want to be. More people should be so lucky... or maybe wise.
"My hippie boy don't even know where to begin
He says he wasn't put on this earth to fit in"
I know you were not built for this world. I am sorry you find yourself stuck here. I do not know how to say it better than the song does.
I do not know where I am going or what to say. I could email this to you but it will be just one more unread letter that leaves me with a mix of hope that you moved westward, and misery that you are no longer anywhere at all. I have so much I want to tell you. I have so many things I want to ask you... so much to say... no one can pull words out of me like you do. I miss your rhythmic ramble that sings a song that floors me. I am too shaken to be clear. I am too scattered to be focused. I really hope you are well. I wish you were here.
'mizz dozza'
_________________
"...don't ask me why it's just the nature of my groove..."
13 Jan 2010, 8:52 pm
Jenny
