damned hippies

Last night, in an effort to get my mind off of things, I took myself to see "Taking Woodstock". I was the only person in the theater on a Saturday night, so sad.

The movie itself was all right, but a bit disappointing. I think my main complaint is about Demetri Martin, the lead, who just bored me to tears. He's the weakest link to be sure. I especially loved the meeting he has with a couple of hippies in their van.

The movie didn't really take off until the actual concert part. The best parts were then, and Ang Lee, I think, did a great job with some of the visual effects. It was really beautiful at times.

I have only the vaguest memories of hippies. My parents were in their late twenties during the summer of love, and pretty square. I don't know many people of that generation, I don't think.

I remember once visiting a younger cousin of my mother. She lived somewhere near Pensacola. We stopped by on the way to a family vacation. I was very young. She had been a hippie, at least that's what my mother said, disdainfully.

She lived unmarried, near the beach, in an old moldy smelling house with her children, and lots of cats, making macrame and smoking pot and reading tarot. The whole place seemed dark, smokey and gloomy. Hippiedom by then was hopelessly passe, and it all just seemed kind of sad to me, even at that age.

It was nice to see it on the screen as it might have been, fresh and vital and exciting.