July 26, 2010
"‘Now, man, that alto man last night had IT—he held it once he found it; I’ve never seen a guy who could hold so long.’ I wanted to know what ‘IT’ meant. ‘Ah well’—Dean laughed—‘now you’re asking me impon-de-rables—ahem! Here’s a guy and everybody’s there, right? Up to him to put down what’s on everybody’s mind. He starts the first chorus, then lines up his ideas, people, yeah, yeah, but get it, and then he rises to his fate and has to blow equal to it. All of a sudden somewhere in the middle of the chorus he gets it—everybody looks up and knows; they listen; he picks it up an carries. Time stops. He’s filling empty space with the substance of our lives, confessions of his bellybottom strain, remembrance of ideas, rehashes of old blowing. He has to blow across bridges and come back and do it with such infinite feeling soul-exploratory for the tune of the moment that everybody knows it’s not the tune that counts but IT—’ Dean could go no further; he was sweating telling about it."

— On The Road, pgs 207-208

5:42pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z0K5bypUMWp
July 24, 2010
"Terry and I had to decide absolutely and once and for all what to do. We decided to hitch to New York with our remaining money. She picked up five dollars from her sister that night. We had about thirteen or less. So before the daily room rent was due again we packed up and took off on a red car to Arcadia, California, where Santa Anita racetrack is located under snow-capped mountains. It was night. We were pointed toward the American continent. Holding hands, we walked several miles down the road to get out of the populated district. It was a Saturday night."

— On The Road, pg 89

3:59pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z0K5byovrTs
July 22, 2010
"Then we went to the soda fountain. Here, realizing a dream of mine since infancy, I took the cover off the chocolate ice cream and stuck my hand in wrist-deep and hauled me up a skewer of ice cream and licked at it. Then we got ice-cream boxes and stuffed them, poured chocolate syrup over and sometimes strawberries too, then walked around in the kitchens, opened iceboxes, to see what we could take home in our pockets. I often tore off a piece of roast beef and wrapped it in a napkin. ‘You know what President Truman said,’ Remi would say. ‘We must cut down on the cost of living.’"

— On The Road, pg 70

6:02pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z0K5byoWR4a
(Notes: 1)
  
July 22, 2010
"‘What’s the schedule?’ I said. There was always a schedule in Dean’s life.

‘The schedule is this: I came off of work a half-hour ago. In that time Dean is balling Marylou at the hotel and gives me time to change and dress. At one sharp he rushes from Marylou to Camille—of course neither one of them knows what’s going on—and bangs her once, giving me time to arrive at one-thirty. Then he comes out with me—first he has to beg with Camille, who’s already started hating me—and we come here to talk till six in the morning. We usually spend more time than that, but it’s getting awfully complicated and he’s pressed for time. Then at six he goes back to Marylou—and he’s going to spend all day tomorrow running around to get the necessary papers for their divorce. Marylou’s all for it, but she insists on banging in the interim. She says she loves him—so does Camille.’"

— On The Road, pg 42

12:42pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z0K5byoSHSC
July 22, 2010
"I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the strangest moment of all, when I didn’t know who I was—I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I’d never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, an all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn’t know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn’t scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost. I was halfway across America, at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future, and maybe that’s why it happened right there and then, that strange red afternoon."

— On The Road, pg 15

12:34pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z0K5byoSAqa
July 4, 2010
"Dressed in the bitter garments which arrived regularly from my head-mistress aunt Alia, I went to school, played French cricket, fought, entered fairy-tales … and worried. (In those days, my aunt Alia had begun to send us an unending stream of children’s clothes, into whose seams she had sewn her old maid’s bile; the Brass Monkey and I were clothed in her gifts, wearing at first the baby-things of bitterness, then the rompers of resentment; I grew up in white shorts starched with the starch of jealousy, while the Monkey wore the pretty flowered frocks of Alia’s undimmed envy … unaware that our wardrobe was binding us in the webs of her revenge, we lead our well-dressed lives.)"

— Salman Rushdie, Midnight’s Children; page 197.

5:13pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z0K5byjyYRl
July 2, 2010
thewordsalloverme: (via 1000scientists) Me likey.

thewordsalloverme:

(via 1000scientists)

Me likey.

10:02pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z0K5byjZVto
(Notes: 404)
  
July 2, 2010
thewordsalloverme: (via parkaa)

thewordsalloverme:

(via parkaa)

10:01pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z0K5byjZVLw
(Notes: 1,327)
  
June 27, 2010

I am grateful for lazy Sundays.

I am grateful for alone time.

I am grateful for KCRW music shows.

9:31pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z0K5byiNfVS
May 23, 2010
iconoplastica: earth2infini: etourneau: flickflickflicker: captaincadiwack:sherlockstark:nyota:ziggyharket:gollygeedamn:theuglybarnacle:fuckyeahfunnythings:aidanmichael:shelivesinafairytalex:molliversykes:bananaomi:edovr:nothingbuttime:dorkvader:pwnator:(via fuckyeahpuns, hilarion) And of course now this song will be stuck in my head all day. Loving would be easy if your colors were like my dreams…

iconoplastica:

earth2infini:

etourneau:

flickflickflicker:

captaincadiwack:sherlockstark:nyota:ziggyharket:gollygeedamn:
theuglybarnacle:fuckyeahfunnythings:aidanmichael:shelivesinafairytalex:
molliversykes:bananaomi:edovr:nothingbuttime:dorkvader:
pwnator:(via fuckyeahpuns, hilarion)

And of course now this song will be stuck in my head all day.

Loving would be easy if your colors were like my dreams…

2:02am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z0K5bybEJ8V
(Notes: 8,483)
  
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