Modest Mouse - “Bukowski”
Something else is hurting you - that’s why you need pot or whiskey, or whips and rubber suits, or screaming music turned so fucking loud you can’t think.
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| — | Charles Bukowski (via empathicawareness) |
I looked up at the dark sky and prayed to God for a better break in life and a better chance to do something for the little people I loved. Nobody was paying any attention to me up there.
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| — | Jack Kerouac, On the Road. (via destroyingangels) |
I had my home to go to, my place to lay my head down and figure the losses and figure the gain that I knew was in there somewhere too.
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| — | Jack Kerouac, On the Road. (via destroyingangels) |
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.
of Dean Moriarty.
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| — | Jack Kerouac, On the road (via rogerhache) |
