“A number of stores began to specialize in western styles, selling cowboy boots and other items. The fashion for tucking jeans into boots became part of the seventies’ “look.” The often intricate tooled patterns on rawhide belts were just the kind of craft that the hippies of rural communes made and sold to supplement their vegetable-growing economy.”

Excerpted from page 31 of Fashions of a Decade: The 1970s, by Jacqueline Herald.

Even as a person who relates to and identifies with hippies, it’s hard to imagine them having any real economy. Also, what sort of vegetables might they be growing, Jacqueline?

Lovingly stolen from a fellow banana slug. This just made me laugh out loud and then the vacuum left by the ring of laughter was filled with sadness. #UCSC

Currently Reading.

With so many different fonts of information of such varying basis in truth it’s no wonder society is splintering into different factions with fiercely opposing world views.

After all, the truth you like is much better than the truth that’s true.

Like so many of my generation, I packed every item of Southern California-rated[1] knitwear I owned and made a pilgrimage to the Pacific Northwest. This journey was carefully orchestrated to effect emotional and intellectual stimulation and I aver that it did not disappoint, but in fact changed me more than I anticipated, as most good journeys do. Don’t believe me? Let’s go to the tape:

Portland:

Powell’s. Books. For those of you who don’t know, Powell’s is a chain of independent book stores in Portland, the headquarters of which is aptly yclept Powell’s City of Books. Located in the Pearl district, this store covers a full city block and is four stories of new and used wonder. 

 

As is my tradition[2], I bought a discounted copy of a P.G. Wodehouse novel. The rest of the time was spent more or less with my mouth agape.



While I was wandering in the aforementioned slack-jawed state, I happened across a familiar title. This was the first (and to date, only) book I ever processed. I labeled, stamped, and copy cataloged this book as part of an in-house field trip for my Tech Services class. Nostalgia abounded.

This was taken after we finally managed to tear ourselves away. Joey spent three company-funded figures on Korean language books for his professional growth. He also personally purchased a drool-inducing Old English grammar book. This is why we are friends.

It came time to leave Portland, much like it is time to leave this post. Although this picture was taken at a painfully early hour, my heart was filled with gladness to have spent time with these two men, gentlemen and scholars both.

The adventure continues in Seattle…

______________________________

[1] The insufficiencies of my wardrobe will perhaps be discussed in another post. Unlike so many “snowclone” myths, Southern Californians really do have over 40 ways to say, “I think I’m dying of hypothermia.”

[2] See: my copy of “Aunts Aren’t Gentlemen” from Moe’s Books in Berkeley, CA.

which was the way he talked in those days. The counterculture possessed a whole book of phrases which bordered on meaning nothing. Fat used to string a bunch of them together. He did so now, deluded by his own carnality into imagining that he had saved his friend’s life. His judgement, which wasn’t worth much anyhow, dropped to a new nadir of acuity. The existence of a good person hung in the balance which Fat held, and all he could think of now was the prospect of scoring. “I can dig it,” he prattled away as they walked. “Out of sight.”

-Valis by Philip K. Dick, p. 14

Wolfram Alpha is the greatest search engine of all time.

 

Brilliant.

As far as I can tell, this came from http://olympialetan.tumblr.com/