Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Hobo Up and Hop a Train with The Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac

Where: N-train
Who was reading: A Renoir-faced young woman with red hair slipping in strands and curtains out of an arrangement that resembled a bun, but not closely.
Moste Peculiarly: She wore regular gloves, rather than the fingerless variety favored by hobos.
By the time she finishes the book… I wouldn’t be surprised if those fingers find themselves sliced off and lying in a waste-basket along with one or two of society’s strictures.
Did anyone else… fantasize about cutting all ties and starting a new life riding the rails after they read this book? It was my 14-year-old dream that never came true. The first of many disappointments [insert sad—but wistful—face].
Luckily, I was able to make up for said disappointment by going all Japhy Ryder and getting naked on a mountain.
What about you, dear reader? How do you compensate for your broken dreams?


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  2. After my pediatrician told me I could give up my dreams of being a basketball player when, at 14, I was just 5'2 (little did he know that I despised basketball, but I still kind of hoped I could be a utility infielder for the Mets. Ok, really hoped.), I immersed myself into fantasy sports, and 3 virtual championships later, I'd say I'd made the right choice. Assuming, of course, that it was my choice not to grow to be over six feet or have a 42 inch vertical or be able to hit the ball on a fly out of the infield.

  3. "...an arrangement that resembled a bun, but not closely."

    Wonderful line.

    How do I compensate for broken dreams? I write about other people's dreams, and maybe someone somewhere will achieve one because of it.

  4. They aren't broken. They just look a little different.