It wasn't even about the smell of marijuana wafting through the air or the endless amounts of cheap/gourmet bottles of alcohol being consumed by seemingly everyone, the level of self-medication really being a surface-level symptom of what was going on. It was the look in their eyes; the de-sensitized, zombie-like way in which they slid past each other, trying to connect with someone, anyone really, who would value them. Here, in this city that is famous for its' progressive, liberal, free-thinking ways, a place where anything/anyone is "accepted", I saw a devastating level of aloneness. The disconnect could not have been greater.
It was like I was watching a bunch of post-2000 Kerouacs and Cassadys, roaming one of the most beautiful city parks in America that served as their own Big Sur or Mexico, searching, looking, seeking but never finding. In many ways, the crowd reflected a resigned acceptance of profound disappointment in a dying American dream: If this was the end result of an American civilization that promised them freedom, prosperity and a vibrant life, they had yet to find any thing of substance or genuineness or authenticity to hold on to within that dream.
The man in the mustard yellow overcoat hopped on the tree root over and over again, as if he was a child playing, needing to test its' ability to support him. His dance partner, a beautiful girl with a vintage camera slung around her neck, drunkenly moved to the music, floating around groups of people clustered together. The connection being temporal, they spun each other around and swayed and bobbed their head. But they never laughed. Or smiled. Or indicated that there was any level of enjoyment or pleasure derived from the moment. They were there because everyone else was, because they wanted to connect to something real, maybe to each other. But, recognizing that they wouldn't or couldn't find it, their lips & eyes betrayed them in disclosing what was really going on.
I sensed a great sadness in them.
In contrast, two brothers from North Carolina stood on stage, singing songs about love, pretty girls, their family and things that had endured in their lives. What was so captivating about the activity surrounding the stage was the very apparent depth and passion emanating from the musicians: not only did they believe in what they were singing, it fulfilled them, gave them purpose, brought their souls alive. When they launched into 'Tin Man', the words hovered over the crowd, mixing with the tobacco and ganja smoke in the overcast sky, articulating nearly too accurately what was happening in the hearts of the 10,000 gathered:
I used to fill the sky around with happiness and joy
I had news to give the wind to keep myself and heart employed
I felt people move around me
I felt loneliness and shame
Back then every day was different, now each moment is the same
I miss it
I miss it
Oh, I miss that feeling of feeling
I had news to give the wind to keep myself and heart employed
I felt people move around me
I felt loneliness and shame
Back then every day was different, now each moment is the same
I miss it
I miss it
Oh, I miss that feeling of feeling
I've rarely felt such a dissonant moment.
Post Script: My good friend Taylor Armerding shared with me a really solid Kurt Vonnegut quote this morning supplementing my thoughts: "What should young people do with their lives? Many things, obviously. But the most daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured." Genius.
