I have to say, no doodling piano music, no cute kids, no sweeping landscapes with rain-shiny roads. Just unforgettable music and big, honking-big words. Well done folks.
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The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved . . . the ones who never yawn and say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.
— Jack KerouacThe Cat Cam
Travels to NZ
20 Years of 30 poems in 30 days!
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