IMAGINE

December 8, 1980. I don't remember what I was doing, when John Lennon was shot. That was a time in my life where I was usually on at least two substances, not including constant nicotine and pot smoking.

This was before my conversion to The High Anarchy Church of Punk Rock and British Ska. Later I would add to my calendar that this was the day Darby Crash of the Germs died, but from partying too much (and frankly, no one was surprised). I liked the Beatles alot (who doesn't?) but I wasn't a huge, huge fan. I was really into Lennon's art and lifestyle and persona, though. Not just his music, but his books of writing and poetry and drawings. (I liked Yoko's installation too, and their cool relationship and all of the stuff they did.)

I liked people who were creative, and only Bowie was above Lennon on my list of artists I admired.

I went to the Memorial with two girls from school. I hardly ever attended school, and I am hazy on what grade I was in or what school I was attending. I believe that I was still in Junior High. I do know that this was roughly six months after I had returned from California. And I do know that even though I had been a runaway for all but a few weeks of the previous school year, the school had passed me, because I was trouble and they wanted me out of there.

I do remember that my mom's boyfriend, who was also the former minister of my grandmother's church and a poet himself, gave us a ride to the Memorial held in our largest park. We couldn't believe how many people were there. Many people were smoking pot openly. There was no organization, people just got up and said whatever they were feeling. I don't recall the police being there at all. I don't even remember how all of us knew when and where to show up.

I remember crying during the silent vigil, and as everyone dispersed we all began singing HEY JUDE. You could hear the whole crowd carrying away bits of the tune, dispersing it like a spirit across the city, out of car windows, from the back of pick-up trucks, at the full bus stops.

We bummed a ride from some guys with a big truck who were giving a lot of people rides and who had weed to share. We sang HEY JUDE and smoked pot til we reached the highway. It was so cold and we were in the open truck bed, so we all huddled together til we got back on the street. Then we sang more songs, but I don't remember which ones.

I don't know why, but for some reason I actually went home afterwards, which was unusual for me if there were boys and marijuana around. But I had the Lennon-truck drop me off at home, and when I went inside my mom was playing her RUBBER SOUL album and crying too.

What world do you Imagine? People living life in peace? Nothing to kill or die for? No religion, too? (Personally, I got no problem with religion: Jesus, Flying Spaghetti Monster, or Buddha, but I do dream of peace. )

I declare today INTERNATIONAL IMAGINE DAY. Go on and dream. Imagine. Visualize. Create.

Merry Christmas, War is over if you want it!!



UNTIL NEXT TIME, TOODLE ON!!!!