JACK KEROUAC: Where are you now?
A Retrospect of my life in words and music
The world begins to slowly move away from the body, traveling through space, time is a different matter.
The lady at the bar laughs and pours us another drink, in the name of humanity.
"War is not an option?"
She didn't exactly know.
We stood up and she disappeared into the setting sun.
The sun, a blazing orb of yellows and reds, burned my skin but into the desert we went, my head held high and the body rejoiced in delightful agony of pain, running from the feet, up the spine and into the brain.
July 12th, 1993: Angie is dying, one minute at a time, as we all do.
She did it exceptionally well.
Hagus De Morus, trapped spirits on this world, overlooked a dreadful mass of humanity, the villains of the world; tax lawyers, used cars salesmen, angry youth trapped in globs of human waste trying to swim upstream like broken salmon.
"Here we should give up!" she once more appeared and said, smiling.
I had wanted to give up miles before, days in.
She wouldn't let me.
We did not see the setting sun, as the world ended behind us, one minute at a time.