Thursday, December 22, 2005

If this guy isn't the living embodiment of Dean Moriarty, then I ain't Sal Paradise.
Photo by Chester Arthur Burnett

Sal, you say the funniest things. I mean, man, you groove on a level which I dost not comprehend. I mean, I go out shooting with Old Bull Lee and we come back from the swap meet and you are rapping Schopenhauer with Carlo Marx and recounting the adventures with Remi. Dig, my brother. The legend lives on, although we are but, as they say, dust. Me and you and Carlo and Memere, just dust and so many railroad ties between where we've been and where we are. Only Camille knows for sure, heh, heh, heh. And she lives in Beverly Hills, dear girl, tempting us with the call of the sirens begging us to come crash on her rocks.
"Skippin' through the lily fields I came across an empty space,
It trembled and exploded, left a bus stop in it's place.
The bus came by and I got on, that's when it all began,
There was cowboy Neal at the wheel of the bus to never ever land."
Yeah, man, I started some hipster rap, here
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