In transit right now, staying at a hotel up in PA. All by my lonesome. And you know what? It is fucking awesome. Of course, I may feel this way only because I just watched On The Road. Now, my Beat obsession is long since passed, but I must admit they did a good job. I guess before there was punk in America kids huddled drunkenly in their apartments and sang along to scat singers with the same frenzied emotion. At least it's cool to maybe think so. I tried not watch or read anything related to On The Road for a while because I was afraid it would infect me with the same reckless search for excitement. We all know how Dean wound up. We know what happened to Jack. The movies made me realize, though, it's not about the booze, the drugs, or the sex. Sure, that was the garb of the movies principal idea, but the idea itself; that's what mattered . And the idea was really more of a death rattle than any logical point or concept. It was the last pitiful sigh of Old American freedom. But there I go rambling again. Anyhow, heres to black-metal Jack!
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