11/6/15 Friday: An Addendum to Yesterday’s California Dreamin’

Since I got a worried mid-day call from my parents, who read yesterday’s post and wanted to make sure I hadn’t lost my mind, quit my job, and fled to California, I thought I’d point out that any post tagged “California dreaming” is somehow related to my love affair with the Golden State (California) whether literally or metaphorically, while posts tagged “dreamwork” are journal accounts of dreams I had while asleep (usually at night).

So concerned readers should know that posts so tagged (above) probably don’t mean that I have gone off the rails, quit my job, or moved to California without a job.

Ok.  Thanks!

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Next Stop – Goa, India – A New Generation of Pilgrims Hits India’s Hippie Trail – NYTimes.com

In case you missed it… here’s a terrific piece from the New York Times back in 2006.  I know that I was only dimly aware (if at all) with Goa’s hippie history when I was becoming of age. Certainly, if I had been more aware of Goa’s role in the formation of the culture I claim as my own, I would have made sure to do more than touch down there en route to somewhere else when I was “in country.”  If you ever wondered why Goa, India has such a hold on the more Bohemian-minded among us, this article has it all.  It even references a DVD documentary I own called, “Last Hippie Standing,” which dates from about the same time period. If you ever wondered why India in general and Goa in particular hold such power among the more “artistically” (raver) inclined folks, this is why.  I may still write more about this or my experiences  at a later date, but I did want to pass this link along now.
Anyway, check it out if you like:

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/04/09/travel/09goa.html?pagewanted=all
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In Case You Missed It… Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Sent Off By Salman Rushdie

So as some of my regular readers may have gathered, I have a fairly active mind and a lot of reading interests, many of which overlap somewhere between thirty years of personal journals and my regular reading of the New York Times.

I had just read the cover story of the “Book Review” insert in The Times from a couple of weeks back.  There was a lovely and generous send off of Gabriel Garcia Marquez by another master of “magical realism,” Salman Rushdie.  I got excited because I remembered an essay I wrote when I was applying to college.  In my memory, the essay was about how I related to Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and so would have made great fodder for my take on Salman Rushdie’s send off of Marquez.

Only thing is, when I tracked down that essay (which I do still have, archivist that I am, in my “high school essay” folder), I was somewhat mortified to discover that it wasn’t about how I related to Gabriel Garcia Marquez at all but how I related to Mario Vargas Llosa.  Three names, from an older generation, from the Americas, and an author but not a lot of similarity beyond that.  According to Wikipedia, Vargas Llosa “writes prolifically across an array of literary genres, including literary criticism and journalism. His novels include comedies, murder mysteries, historical novels, and political thrillers.”  Garcia Marquez, however, started off as a journalist but was most well-known for popularizing a writing style known as “magic realism.”

Oh, well, such are the vicissitudes of memory and time.

In any case, the article is well worth reading.  Go here to check it out.

Leee Black Childers has left the building

Leee Black Childers (yes, there are three ‘e’s) was a portrait photographer who escaped my notice successfully, right up until the day that he died.  Just this morning, I read his obit in last sunday’s New York Times.  It seems like he lead a rich, full life.

One of the take-home messages for me, upon reading his obit, is that it is crucial to stake your claim to your own life.  How do you want to be remembered?  Who are you?  Claim your dreams, and they are yours.

One of my favorite anecdotes from Mr. Childers life comes from a conversation that he had with Andy Warhol at the Factory, Warhol’s New York studio, in the late 1960’s.  Childers, who was all of twenty-two then, confessed to Warhol that he “aspired to be a photographer; in that case, Warhol told him, he should just call himself one.”

“[Warhol] said, ‘Say you’re a photographer, and you’re a photographer,’ Mr. Childers recalled in an online interview. “And he pointed across the Factory to Candy Darling, who was one of the great drag queens, and he said, ‘Look at her.  She says she’s a woman.  She is.’  So from that moment on, I was a photographer.

Anyway, I found Leee Black Childer’s  obituary a great read and oddly inspirational when it comes to the claiming of my own life story.

You can check it out here.