| | I'm reading Kerouac's On The Road. My parents are moving into their house here in Pattaya and there are bugs everywhere. Not really a jump from Malaysia...or even Texas (or that time in Oklahoma where the grasshopper plague revisited Duncan) but still. Some of the ants are really big.
Kerouac's language is super big as well. Not necessarily the vocabulary, but every sentence is a different adventure. It's like he loves the people and the organic/raw America just for the hell of it. For the hell of loving it. For the adventures and the living. He knows he puts responsibility on the back burner as he took tea with Dean zigzagging across the States.
"The firey fires glowed in the night; the same Negroes plied the shovel and sang. Old Big Slim Hazard had once worked on the Algiers ferry as a deckhand; this made me think of Mississippi Gene too; and as the river poured down from mid-America by starlight I knew, I knew like mad that everything I had ever known and would ever know was One. Strange to say."
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| | Posted 7/21/2008 5:33 AM - 20 Views - 2 eProps - 1 Comment
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