a letter to Jack Kerouac
December 19th, 2011
Dear Jack,
It must seem like I only write to you when I'm sad about something or lonely and longing. That might be the case, and yet it also might not be. I wish there was some way of conveying what I feel so often throughout the day- the visions of old childhood haunts so still and forgotten, and the sadness that fills me to know that these locations probably only exist this way in my mind. I am aware that things have changed, if only very subtly. It's like returning home after a long time away; it can only be described as akin to waking from sleep one day to find the world has changed around you, and you can't go home again.
This morning, I had a vision that went something like this: I was watching the old avenues and highways drift past, those country roads our family car used to drive down, and I remembered at that moment this old derelict cinema somewhere in the centre of town, and how there were some cotton wool cobwebs left over from Halloween just dangling from the windows, and the doors ancient and boarded up. From the car window I used to watch this go by, or walk past it, and it would make me feel strange; kind of still and wondrous. I haven't been back there in years, and so many things have changed since then, but from time to time I see it in my mind's eye and don't know what it means.
Today the day is cold and damp and misty. Everything is very quiet and subdued outside my window, the trees hushed and stoic as though they have some great secret to keep. I had forgotten what the holidays were like, how the airy silence is bearable at first and even kind of nice, but then there's holiday work for which you have no motivation, and nobody your own age to talk to for miles around, and no stimulation. That's when loneliness and depression starts to set in.
Ti Jean, did you ever feel, when sitting on your own in your room or somewhere, that you wished the great bounding exuberance of activity could just run on forever? Lately, I've been feeling this way all the time. It makes me want to cry because I know I can't be around people forever; everyone has to go home and sleep sometime. But I don't want to sleep. I want to stroll under the deep cover of night, surrounded by a gang of boys, like on Friday, I want to sit drinking and exulting, my belly warm with drink. I want the heady and exhilarating possibility of going anywhere, doing anything at any moment simply because we're young enough to have the energy to do so, yet just old enough to behave like mini adults- I want the giddy fascination and special marvelling that I'm HERE with them: who am I and how lucky I am and WHERE was I for all those years, and HOW did I get here? And then the breathless joy in being able to think, "Ah, no matter- I'm here NOW and that's all that counts"
I wonder if you ever felt that way. Like someone who doesn't know where their next meal is coming from, or when, I'm hungry for light energy attraction interaction noise noise noise movement never ending, excitement, can never get enough. Can never listen to all the music or meet all the people or taste all the good food or be everywhere, doing everything at once like I want to be.
It makes me ache.
Laurie
Dear Jack,
It must seem like I only write to you when I'm sad about something or lonely and longing. That might be the case, and yet it also might not be. I wish there was some way of conveying what I feel so often throughout the day- the visions of old childhood haunts so still and forgotten, and the sadness that fills me to know that these locations probably only exist this way in my mind. I am aware that things have changed, if only very subtly. It's like returning home after a long time away; it can only be described as akin to waking from sleep one day to find the world has changed around you, and you can't go home again.
This morning, I had a vision that went something like this: I was watching the old avenues and highways drift past, those country roads our family car used to drive down, and I remembered at that moment this old derelict cinema somewhere in the centre of town, and how there were some cotton wool cobwebs left over from Halloween just dangling from the windows, and the doors ancient and boarded up. From the car window I used to watch this go by, or walk past it, and it would make me feel strange; kind of still and wondrous. I haven't been back there in years, and so many things have changed since then, but from time to time I see it in my mind's eye and don't know what it means.
Today the day is cold and damp and misty. Everything is very quiet and subdued outside my window, the trees hushed and stoic as though they have some great secret to keep. I had forgotten what the holidays were like, how the airy silence is bearable at first and even kind of nice, but then there's holiday work for which you have no motivation, and nobody your own age to talk to for miles around, and no stimulation. That's when loneliness and depression starts to set in.
Ti Jean, did you ever feel, when sitting on your own in your room or somewhere, that you wished the great bounding exuberance of activity could just run on forever? Lately, I've been feeling this way all the time. It makes me want to cry because I know I can't be around people forever; everyone has to go home and sleep sometime. But I don't want to sleep. I want to stroll under the deep cover of night, surrounded by a gang of boys, like on Friday, I want to sit drinking and exulting, my belly warm with drink. I want the heady and exhilarating possibility of going anywhere, doing anything at any moment simply because we're young enough to have the energy to do so, yet just old enough to behave like mini adults- I want the giddy fascination and special marvelling that I'm HERE with them: who am I and how lucky I am and WHERE was I for all those years, and HOW did I get here? And then the breathless joy in being able to think, "Ah, no matter- I'm here NOW and that's all that counts"
I wonder if you ever felt that way. Like someone who doesn't know where their next meal is coming from, or when, I'm hungry for light energy attraction interaction noise noise noise movement never ending, excitement, can never get enough. Can never listen to all the music or meet all the people or taste all the good food or be everywhere, doing everything at once like I want to be.
It makes me ache.
Laurie