I read a page from William Burroughs "Junkie" at City Lights bookstore this past Sunday afternoon. It wasn't what I expected, it drew me in immediately, I paged through some other books and came back and read some more. There was another book someones memoires I believe from back when the beat thing was happening "Dinners and Nightmares" Diane Di Prima and I noticed her picture on another book a black and white photo of her at a reading. A couple days at home I finally cracked open a book of poetry that someone had given me five years ago in Missoula Montana; she told me that someone had given it to her and that someday I should pass it on as well and that I would know to whom when I met them - "The Prophet" Kahlil Gibran. I read half way through laying outside in some tall grass watching my son play in a pond that he had made; he was pushing water around and playing with the mud. That was the perfect setting and also perhaps because it was warm and I was so comfortable laying against a log but reading those words gave me so much peace of mind and thats why I'm taking the time to write this. That book has stuck with me through these past years laying in the back of my car with a bunch of junk and then it was in a box and I would look at it and think about when and how it was given to me and so i would give it some defference but not have the urge to read it and then I finally put it on my book shelf. Now I have this feeling that "now" is the time I was meant to read it; i don't know what else I want to say about this but I suppose you understand.





























Cheap Trick - High Roller

thanks 1michelemichele1