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The taste of rain -- Why kneel?

Jack Kerouac

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Jack Kerouac
Age: 47 †
Born: 1922
Born: March 13
Died: 1969
Died: October 21
Novelist
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
East Chelmsford
Massachusetts
Jean-Louis Lebris de Kérouac
Jean-Louis Lebris de Kerouac
Kerouac
Jean-Louis Kerouac
Kneel
Rain
Taste

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the golden eternity is { }
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At night I closed my eyes and saw my bones threading the mud of my grave.
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I saw that my life was a vast glowing empty page and I could do anything I wanted.
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It's okay, girl, we'll make it till the sun goes down forever. And until then what you got to lose but the losing? We're fallen angels who didn't believe that nothing means nothing.
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I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all
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Because anybody can write, but not everybody invents new forms of writing. Gertrude Stein invented a new form of writing and her imitators are just talents.
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We tiptoed around each other like heartbreaking new friends.
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You'd be surprised how little I knew even up to yesterday
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Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.
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I'd rather be thin than famous but I'm fat paste that in your broadway show
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i wish the whole world was dead serious about food instead of silly rockets and machines and explosives using everybody's food money to blow their heads off anyway.
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..and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didnt know who I was
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The smog was heavy, my eyes were weeping from it, the sun was hot, the air stank, a regular hell is L.A.
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Everything is ecstasy inside. We just don't know it because of our thinking-minds. But in our true blissful essence of mind [it] is known that everything is alright forever and forever and forever.
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It was my dream that screwed up, the stupid hearthside idea that it would be wonderful to follow one great red line across America instead of trying various roads and routes.
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No time for poetry but exactly what is.
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So therefore I dedicate myself, to my art, my sleep, my dreams, my labors, my suffrances, my loneliness, my unique madness, my endless absorption and hunger because I cannot dedicate myself to any fellow being.
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and the stars were icicles of mockery
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Maybe that's what life is... a wink of the eye and winking stars.
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I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.
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