So in America when the sun goes down and I sit on the old broken-down river pier watching the long, long skies over New Jersey and sense all that raw land that rolls in one unbelievable huge bulge over to the West Coast, and all that road going, all the people dreaming in the immensity of it, and in Iowa I know by now the children must be crying in the land where they let the children cry, and tonight the stars’ll be out, and don’t you know that God is Pooh Bear? the evening star must be drooping and shedding her sparkler dims on the prairie, which is just before the coming of complete night that blesses the earth, darkens all rivers, cups the peaks and folds the final shore in, and nobody, nobody knows what’s going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old, I think of Dean Moriarty, I even think of Old Dean Moriarty the father we never found, I think of Dean Moriarty. [the last paragraph from On the Road]
The Girl, Aimee and Jaguar, The man who cried, Henry and June, High art.....any Adam Sandler, all Johnny Depp, and lots of cartoons.....do u know they say "pie hole" in over the hedge....I almost couldnt breath I was laughing so hard.
anything to do w/ ghosts or hauntings.....I love paranormal stuff.....the creepier the better.....
i just recently read the biography of Alice B Toklas written by Gertrude Stein, My life and times written by Henry Miller, and am a huge Kerouac fan slowly putting together a collection of his writings, Ive also begun reading some burroughs, now that was a wierd cat, kinda hard to follow but Im gettin it....