On The Road

Now, I am not proud of the way in which I discovered the book that would open my life to literature sitting on a couch in a basement with two old friends (then they were young in age) watching three friends sitting at a U-turn red booth inside a diner next to the beach of Surf City U.S.A. discussing what they should do know that Marissa and Seth had decided to run away with the Labrador faced Ryan, when Seth mentions doing the On The Road thing, and I, immediately that night, look up the book on Amazon/Borders (if you remember how it used to be before the dreadful splitting) much to the dismay of the tall tell story that everyone wishes to share about seeing what they want to do with themselves while on this planet.

If you haven't already figured out the novel that directed my path, than you might as well quit reading (except for you, Shaman, you'll have to suffer through it). It doesn't get anymore entertaining, no one dies, until later, and I'm certainly not going to share that as part of my discovering literature; finding literature was not a healing crucifix that I turned to in a desperate need to fill the gap left by the fleeting of butterflies-no!- I read the book because i was told it was not allowed.

There is, and i forget his name now because back then, when i listened to him, i did not have a memory theater in which to place him (and if you're thinking that my memory theater is broken from my sad display of recollection in class today than you are utterly wrong, I found all fifty), a rapper who sings the lyrics:

"I'm cruising in my Cadillac,
You know I'm bluesin'
reading Jack Kerouac."

And it's in these lyrics that you really find Jack, or Mr. Kerouac, and he's certainly not dusty, (though if you find Nabokov a bit unsettling with his rampant complexity than i recommend staying away from Visions of Cody) not with all the wind that rushed through his hair as he travelled Transcontinental, back and forth, to end up sharing all his stories in bitter detail while drugged out on Benzedrine in front of a typewriter in his mother's basement for two weeks. Then, reading the material never could have seemed more harmless, what with all the mind numbing television we watch.....but nothing had more of an influence in the way I lived through high school. Literature has a way of letting the moths out of the stuffy percentage of our brains.

Now I'll never get the lyrics out of my head. To da lo.