It is so strange to wake up on the other side of American, after coming back from the side where Ti Jean died of alcohol poisoning in 1969 and after unknowingly seeking him out in the canyons and fog of Big Sur. America in 2007 is a strange place anyway, where our luggage was scanned for nitrates and our bodies were patted down with latex gloves. “Is there any place on your body that you are especially sensitive?” The answer would have been: “Yes. The place that you won’t pat down”. So here we are, sleep deprived, on the other side of American from where American started looking for the sanity that it would not find, from where the soul suck would be fought off in that city by the sea and in that fog filled canyon a few bus ride hours away and where the S.U.V.s can now pull up to the Henry Miller library where nothing ever happens and where the ice cream at Ventana will melt on the tongue of an America that can’t really be remembered or found anymore because it wasn’t really there to begin with.

Stumble It!