By Rupa Marya : 48hills – excerpt
Thanks to capitalism, the rate of change of culture now does not let deep roots settle–anywhere. But it doesn’t have to be that way
This story is about a place that once was in San Francisco, but it could be anywhere in the world. We watched the phenomenon in Pinellas Park in the 1980’s and now we see it everywhere. It is important to remember where we came from and this is a special place that deserves recognition. This is the story about the capitalist society that eats its own.
Seven years ago, on a weekend like this past one, we would be sitting at The Revolution Cafe in the Mission district. All day. Until about 3am. It was highly unproductive and totally productive. Listening to live music, greeting friends who stopped by. It was the place so many of us would migrate to in the middle of our weekend and then get stuck at as a revolving crew of musicians would show up before gigs, after gigs, and take up the microphone and drop some wizardry down.
Conversations would strike up between unlikely folks, all sitting on the wooden benches that local John Kyle built, before the benches themselves were evicted. We were undocumented, we were hungry and totally full. We were vibrating with a certain cultural evolution that only happens when people have time and space and density to rub up against one another. We were teachers, artists, writers, social workers, librarians, janitors, doctors, students, musicians, seekers, dreamers, busboys, hairdressers, flight attendants, travelers, filmmakers, wanderers. We were bilingual, trilingual, quadrilingual even. Highly unproductive. And pulsing with possibility…(more)