"the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.”
That quote from Jack Kerouac has always stuck to me for some reason. I've never felt a reason to use it, but it was always there, like a little sleeping dog curled up in the back of my head.
It fits Rich perfectly I think.
Just before the quote Kerouac talked about "shambling after" the mad ones. Like he was not actually one of them, but longed to be.
I can say that I had the privilege to stride along side one for a time.
Not as some shambling follower, but like a brother.
O the things we did.
All those wonderful, wretched, horrible, beautiful things...
But those stories are for another time.
I parted ways with Rich a ways back, but I never actually said goodbye.
I'm not about to break with tradition now.