A Big Empty Face Space

sexandfury:

fuckyeahthebeatgeneration:

hoenheim:

predatorywaspobserver:

“Accursed is he who thinks and thinks but is never happy in his thoughts, who can never say - “Here I am, thinking.” It is no fun, no sport, this eternal thinking of mine which goes on a good twelve hours a day. Why do I do it? It’s a form of brooding, I actually look like a hound-dog all day. And how my mother is used to it! I think if I were not around the house brooding she would be certain the wheels of the universe had stopped turning. And what do I think about? What thoughts I have! - What thoughts! a whole host, multitude, and world of thoughts, I keep devising new ones and reworking old ones, some of the old ones are concluded and are only thought of as conclusions, whole worlds of new ones come crashing into my feelings, and it never ends. Why do I think? It’s my life, right there. That’s why I must be alone and thinking six days out of the week, because it’s my life. What will these thoughts win me? - They are not of this world. I don’t know what they are myself!”

- Jack Kerouac in his notebook (June 27th, 1947)