i. OVERWHELMED! Reading Philip Whalen's "Sourdough Mountain Lookout" in a Boston cafe' good music good vibes quick approaching afternoon chocolate croissant puffed up in my belly heart puffed up in my chest ready to yell leap skip jump make a ruckus frantic search for pen and notebook of course the notebook is left in Ned's dormitory almost don't have a pen and feel a short fall in my gut. A walking (or sitting) cliche, scratching thoughts onto a napkin as they come, total organic no preservatives except I stopped to think before writing "scratching" -- no! not the word I wanted the correct word is STREAM, STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS, FLOW OF EMOTION - like the beat legendaries whom I idolize but what do I know... generations later, only had "******" (the cool hip term several decades ago) and **** bourbon "Satan's ****" that leaves me sick and *****. Good delusion! Couchsurfing across the country, drop by without notice, run broke, read books - poetry & the Autobiography of Malcolm X, living off my parent's hard-earned capitalist cash...
ii. Often I fear I am too young and tender to survive in this world. Moments like these - sitting, reading, basking in a cafe - can make me overwhelmed, Got to drop everything and sit, elbows propped, palms cupping numb face, to slow the rush of emotions pulsating thru me. I am too big a fool, fall in love too easily with everything. The boy barista is prettier than I, thought he was a girl when I approached and shocked by his voice. Angel with a black septum ring!
written on napkins, transcribed w/ line breaks following original