18 March 2013

chapter one of an untitled tale


We had both always kind of felt that we were born in the wrong decade...two lost dreamers in a post-dream world. Perhaps it was nothing more than mere romanticism...this idea so deeply ingrained in our minds that those were the times. When we first met the sweet Mary Jane and all of us fell in love with her instantly and really, how could we not? Her perfume lingered in our thoughts endlessly. And the girl sure had a lot of personality.

And those tunes that helped us pass the days. It was all about the six-string and lyrics that meant more than words on a page. It was all about those greats we still talk about and sing along with. It’s 1969 and someone hands you a Led Zeppelin record and says, “hey, you have got to check this out”. Fuck................that’s really got to blow your mind. 

“Well, could you imagine it?” he said, as he passed me the joint.

“Suck it into your lungs”. I breathed it in with all intention and let out a slow exhale.

That was the time of Vietnam...massive protests and talks of revolution. Thousands claimed the streets and made a declaration for peace, humming the sounds of Jimi Hendrix and Bob Dylan, reciting their anthems like a broken record player.

And we are the time of Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran and countless other shit storms we had managed to get ourselves involved in. The protests now seemed quieter or perhaps the world had just evolved into a highly functioning remote controller with a powerful “mute” button. But in actual fact, we both weren’t quite convinced that the world was so highly functioning to begin with. 
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I was just a natural nomad who constantly found excuses to move about. By 26, I had lived in Kuala Lumpur, the San Francisco Bay Area, Santa Barbara, Matsuyama (Japan), Sussex (England) and now Prague. Of course nomadism comes at a price and quite literally at that. This reinvention of the hippy lifestyle is nothing short of a luxury afforded to middle-class folks with a little too much cash. I was lucky in that sense but I am hardly delusional about it. I see it for what it is. 

And he, who was known as “Prague boy” by my parents for the longest time, was born, grew up and has lived in Prague all his life. His parents and those of their generation were witnesses and participants in the Velvet Revolution, a revolution which led to the overthrow of the one-party Communist government. He was too young to remember it but it no doubt changed everything about the way he lived. 

Jan (or Hans or Honza or Honzik) and Joan. That was us, “gracious gifts of God”, which still has to be the most ironic meaning for our names seeing as we are atheist and I would hardly describe either of us as particularly gracious, though he certainly is a gift. 

Jan and Joan. We are the dreamers of dreams. 

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