I've had a flare up of restlessness lately and since I don't have the money or the time or even the opportunity really to go anywhere interesting right now, I did what I always do in times like these. I took out my copy of
On the Road, opened it up and went with them. I've read it a thousand times - more than I should have - and still manage to notice things I never noticed before. I suppose it's the nature of his writing. You can't possibly digest all of the things he's saying in that book in one read-through. That's what makes it so incredible I think. Each sentence is so densely packed with revelations and observations about life and the world around him, if you stare at it too long it starts to look like random words peculiarly strung together and absentmindedly dropped onto the page. But through his seemingly endless rambles and verbal meanderings he manages to push forth these almost sacred understandings about life. They happen so suddenly that you have to stop reading and look back at the statement to make sure you really read what you thought you read. And when you see that it's really there, this notion you've been half-aware of for a long time but never really been able to put your finger on, you feel an instant connectedness with this person and the others he writes about and you think that there are probably a million people half-thinking these same things right now somewhere in the world and you feel better for it. If you haven't read it, you should.
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"because he had no place he could stay in without getting tired of it
and because there was nowhere to go but everywhere, keep rolling under
the stars...”
- Jack Kerouac, On the Road