)) poof ((

Lost it.
Gone.

Last night, readied for your reading pleasure, I completed something of a clever, amusing, informative, introspective, been-there-done-that-but-without-major-drug-use, celebrate celebrate dance to the music posting for this blog. Therein was even a reference or two to The Fab Four.

Topic: Summer of Love. 1967.
Me - at 16. Not a hippie, merely emulating some of the look and definitely grooving on the music. Mindful of the ongoing social movement - its broad sweep across continents, across oceans. I waxed poetic that it could have been our first taste of globalization. We're talking a BigAssSnowballMovement here.

I wrote a bit more about being a Chinatown kid: twice removed from the Haight-Ashbury. C-town had its own counter-culture thing going.
Earlier that year, in February (to be sure, a cold San Francisco day), I was initiated into a Summer of Love mindset by attending the Human Be-In at GG park.

It was a fair piece of writing. Typical for b ~ quantity if not quality.
Another stroll down MemoryLane.
A mantra for living life in the present with a fond tip o' the hat to that colourful and influential era.

Right before publishing, I clicked away to check on some factoid.
Blogger supposedly 'saves automatically'.
It didn't.
)) poof ((
My edited post was gone.
The rough first draft still there.
It was late. I was not up for a re-write.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr and Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrowl sez I.
I deleted the first draft. Too rough, sez I.
Gooooooooooodniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite sez I.
Ffffffffffffffffffffffff sez I.

Morning comes: 1967 still on my mind.
Burnt offerings will have to suffice.

This song will jog a memory for anyone who lived 1967. You'll remember where you were, what you were doing, what you longed for. Your life changed - big time.
Smell the pachouli. You're right back there again.

Those who missed it - can not even imagine...