Book: On the road. Page 2

I was staring at the dullness of their own days. I also had to go an awfully long way.

I understand that these are the photographs that our children will one day be considered a surprise, considering that their parents had lived smooth, orderly, well-balanced through the pictures of life that they got up in the morning to proudly go through life overhead, and not imagining raggedy madness and riot of our true lives, our true night, its underworld - the senseless nightmare road. All of it inside endless and beginningless emptiness. Pitiful forms of ignorance.

Ripples in the upside-down lake of the void - that's what I should say. The bottom of the world - made of gold, and the world itself upside down.

- My only hope, Dean, is someday we'll be able to live on the same street with our families and together turn into a couple of jerks.

What's your road, man? - the road of the Saint, madman road, rainbow road, the road the fish in the aquarium, it can be any. It's a road anywhere for anyone as you like. Where who how?

What is better than fame in heaven - for what is heaven? what land? - and what, in the end, the difference? - the nameless people in the world are All in the mind.

But what he seeks? To which we all aspire? What do we want? She didn't know. She yawned. She wanted to sleep. It was too much. No one could not say. No one ever says. It was all over. She was eighteen - so cute and already lost.

Now you see, mate, here's a real woman. No harsh words, no complaints, nothing of the sort; her old man can come any time of night with anyone, to sit talking in the kitchen and drink beer, and go as pleases. Here's a man and that's his fortress.

I looked out the window. He stood alone in the parade, probably in the street. Bitterness, recriminations, advice, morality, sadness - everything was behind him, and ahead of he had just torn and ecstasy joy of pure being.

He was BROKEN - which meant the root, the soul of beauty Banicescu. What did he know? He tried everything in his power to tell me what he knew, and I was jealous - I was jealous that I'm with him, the fact that I'm defending him and drinking him, as once they tried. Then they looked at me. Than I was - I, an outsider, that I did on the West Coast in this lovely night? I shuddered at the thought.

- You don't think absolutely about anyone but himself and his damned ottyaga. You care what dangles between your legs, and even how much money or pleasures you can get from people, and then you simply flung aside. Moreover, you're also acting very silly. You never comes to mind that life is serious, and that there are people who are trying to live it sensibly instead of all the time to fool around.
That's what Dean was, the HOLY JESTER.

Jerk damn I don't understand and never understood. But to understand-it is necessary only that I love him.

Now he was just absolutely don't care about anything (as before), but, moreover, he cared about everything in principle: that is, it was all the same: he was part of the world and nothing I could do about it.

We were enthusiastic, we imagined that left confusion and nonsense behind, and now doing our a single and noble function of time - move.