to the edge of the world

14 notes

“…what a weird feeling it was, especially at night, like being dead, somehow, with the dark void all around me - what I mean is, I didn’t want to ever get off, couldn’t even imagine that the bus would ever actually stop, so there I’d be in my seat for eternity, neither still nor moving, with nothing even happening to me - I was curiously happy that way. Have you ever felt that buses don’t seem like buses but more like dark private tubes funnelling you through the U.S.? Also, the solitude of the bus seat is another strange thing - even if a soldier is sitting next to you madly offering you cigarettes, you’re still alone and immune… and after a while all the strangers fall asleep side by side, some touching, completely unconscious of one another - that’s strange, isn’t it?”

Joyce to Jack, June 1958, Door Wide Open

A call to finish Tunnel People and keep this poetry ball rollin’.

Filed under Door Wide Open Kerouac Joyce Johnson lit bus travel solitude unconscious breaks in comfort zones

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