On page 200 or "On the Road." Old Bull Lee and kicks, joy, darkness resting heads on my shoulder, either as a comfort to me or for their own respite. Which is it?

I say it's the more ethical of the two.

In 96 hours, I've read almost as much of this book as it took me to read the first 50 pages of "Gravity's Rainbow."

I have a stack of books on my reading table that I got from World Fantasy a few weeks ago. They look pale and sullen next to Kerouac. I was afraid earlier that they might be too thin after OTR, but maybe some light Sunday fare will be good (and just) deserts.

See, that's the problem with reading too much of the difficult, the experimental, and the good: what isn't that good reads even worse.

Even worse is realizing how poorly I as a writer stand to the Greats. My old friend and confidant Shelley cried and gave up the pen after reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez's "Love in the Time of Cholera."

With one hundred pages left of Kerouac, I give myself the conceit (which a year from now when I read this I'll think Rick you over-sentimental buffoon feeling like a frikkin' teenager again over words on a page)

There I've said, a little moment of gratitude that a word can hit me square in the jaw and make the mass of other words unswallowable. I've said it and I'm not taking it back.

ETHICAL