Excited about my r&r. I’m in bed with books and a shot in the dark right now. That’s coffee but it’s funny when you put it… Ah u get it right? On the east coast they call it a piledriver.
So I’m reading romantic fairy tales of the 1800’s, Goethe and Tieck, etc. Amazing, but probably not good for my imaginations. Also reading Freud’s civilization just cause I wanna. And I just finished Kerouac’s On the Road but I can’t figure out why no one ever told me to read this book. Loved it.
So, books and bathtubs and playing outside. I will find a small roadtrip somehow. In thinking about Kerouac’s travails and my own dance with the bottle (and oh it was a deathly one) I wanted to write a poem to a group one does not name. Hmm. How to write about my experience while keeping in line with traditions?
You friends of Bill know what I mean. We don’t promote. I’m not a preacher or a poster child, in any way or form. Sometimes I feel like Brad Pitt in that movie, you know, “the first rule about fight club is you don’t talk about…”
So I’ll just present a part of this poem… I hope it’s not too cheesy, even though I do like cheese.
What a gift
that’s given freely.
-no one told me-