Early Friday evening gets me thinking of Jack Kerouac, Marvin Gaye and that kind of stuff…
To me, these people – these Luciferians – were in search of fiery grace, blathering on though they might be like broken typewriters, as they sought to find truth in the babbling mouths of the blessed speechmakers.
Yabber yabber yabber. Hey!
And now they were gone. How was it Gee put it in OTT People:
‘I mixed with the crowd, we got on okay
But when I last looked, they’d all gone their separate way’
As good as Marvin Gaye, I’d say.
Funnily enough, checking out the commensurate prose, it doesn’t work other than poetically cos it sounds so racist (which I am sure it wasn’t supposed to be – the guy felt like some kind of French Canuck…)
“At lilac evening I walked with every muscle aching among the lights of 27th and Welton in the Denver colored section, wishing I were a Negro, feeling that the best the white world had offered was not enough ecstasy for me, not enough life, joy, kicks, darkness, music, not enough night… I wished I were a Denver Mexican, or even a poor overworked Jap, anything but what I was so drearily, a “white man” disillusioned. All my life I’d had white ambitions; that was why I’d abandoned a good woman like Terry in the San Joaquin Valley I passed the dark porches of Mexican and Negro homes.”
We all do our best