We moved Nathan out of his apartment last weekend, and it has taken a few days to recover. This weekend, we hope to get out the beach before the oil reaches us.
Meanwhile, I've been working on something I haven't done in a while: Poems. Don't ask me why. I don't know. But I spent some time at Books A Million last night reading poetry (another thing I haven't done in a long time) and also checking out a recent reissue of "Trainsong" by Jan Kerouac (Jack's daughter).
I found "Trainsong" in the bargain bin at UWF when I was last a student there, in 1992-93. I was in a class that had "On the Road" as one of the texts, so I was steeped in Kerouac at the time. Odd that I should run across another copy in another bargain bin a couple of days after moving my son away from the front gates of UWF.
I highly recommend "On the Road," (and I recall that my sister didn't understand the ongoing fascination of the novel). Jan (who died in 1996 of kidney failure) was not the writer her father was, but her similarly "autobiographical novels" movingly explored her deep and abiding search for a father figure. I recommend it too.
Peace.
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