Upon the Realization That You Are Going To Berkeley

I am off to Berkeley tomorrow, yet my only concern is that you all will not join me upon my laborious journey to this spiritual netherworld. You see, when a man sets off to a place as colorful as Northern California, he must know what he wishes to gain. Does he want a new outlook on life in East Germany? Does he want to see the bustling human organ trade in Oakland? Or maybe he just wants to see how it is that they manufacture Jelly Bellys.

What am I trying to say? What I wish to inculcate in you, my friend, is this warm sense of adventure that currently envelopes me. It is that search for America that drives me that I want you to feel, to touch. Yes my goals are simple; I shall gaze upon the Golden Gate Bridge spanning that great bay and all at once see the skyline of a once great city, lying burned and broken in the ash heap of social experimentation. But you, you my friend, will you have gained as much? Will you feel and taste and see that which I have seen? You say you will? I, for one, highly doubt it.

Why do I doubt it? I doubt it because I will be there, and you will be sitting in the muggy Brooklyn sun, sweltering under the heat of oppression. The oppression of the mind. The oppression that only you may break yourself free of, on a bike.