Date: The Start
I hate writing in pencil. I got a pen. I laid in the carpet of my room. Clutters of clothes and papers around me. I listen to Kerouac. Soon I'll be on the road. In my fathers big white truck, suit cases in the back and my bare feet on the dashboard. Down to tropical places,but, for now, I lay here....
Now after several miles we are at my older brothers apartment in Tampa, FL. We lay on couch. "Don't write about me." "Okay." Moments later, I lay in the loft and whimper to the sound of my dad snoring. I lay coverd in darkness and I listen to "Strawberry Swing." I think of my beautiful sister and how she dances. She is a dancer. Light. Soft. Fast. Simple. Like a petal in the breeze...
We awoke before dawn for a "Breakfast of Champions": Cold Pizza and an Energy drink. We all mumbled threw airport security like a bunch of zombies.
- The Typist
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