silencio

So I'm watching a documentary on Kerouac, one of my heroes since my mid teens. it shows a television interview of him in the last year of his life. Man, what a sad, depressing sight. Drunk, old, gone... He was in his mid forties when he died. Fucking wasted. I was all set for a cool movie on kerouac, but it just focused on how fucked up he was. sure they mentioned how great a writer he was and all, but...to see him in that last interview...He couldn't talk, falling asleep....it broke my heart.

now what? My friend chris, whom I've known since the age of six, called yesterday. I don't hear from him that much since he moved to california with jared, rob, and dennis. he called out of the blue....It was so cool to hear his voice. Totally unexpected. He should be back in january. I can't wait.

You know what's bad? Having a cold. You know what's worse than that? Having a cold in the summer time. Ugh. I have a cold in a August. Fuck.

I am forcing tim to write his book. He suffers from writer's laziness. It's worse than writer's block.

Kerouac would write for several days straight. No sleep. Just benzadrine and coffee. And jazz. That movie had parker in it, too.

I was going to go out tonight. But nothing was going on. Maybe next time. Springfield makes you feel very alone. I try to avoid that.

'night