Lonesome Traveller

"No man should go through life without once experiencing healthy, even bored solitude in the wilderness, finding himself depending solely on himself and thereby learning his true and hidden strength."

- Jack Kerouac 'Lonesome Traveller'

I suppose that this is what I was creating in a way, in 'Traces', a way for participants to negotiate their wilderness in a sense...

I have started to read Murakami's 'Sputnik Sweetheart', recommended by a new friend :), opened it today sitting in the garden on our old picnic table. these are the favourite of the heroine's kerouac words. she's a writer,

,,,,'"My head is like some ridiculous barn packed full of stuff I want to write about," she said. "Images, scenes, snatches of words . . . in my mind they're all glowing, all alive. Write! they shout at me. A great new story is about to be born - I can feel it. It'll transport me to some brand-new place. Problem is, once I sit at my desk and put them all down on paper, I realize something vital is missing. It doesn't crystallize - no crystals,just pebbles. And I'm not transported anywhere."
,,,,,With a frown, sumire picked up her 250th stone and tossed it into the pond. *quiet, plip*
,,,,,"Maybe I'm lacking something. Something you absolutely must have to be a novelist."
,,,,,A deep silence ensued. It seemed she was seeking my run-of-th-mill opinion. *silence*
,,,,,After a while I started to speak. "A long time ago in China there were cities with high walls around them, with huge, magnificent gates. The gates weren't just doors for letting people in or out, they had greater significance. People believed the city's soul resided in the gates. Or at least that it should reside there. It's like in Europe in the Middle Ages when people felt a city's heart lay in its cathedral and central square. Which is why even today in China there are lots of wonderful gates still standing. Do you know how the Chinese built these gates?"
,,,,,"I have no idea," Sumire answered.
,,,,,"People would take carts out to old battlefields and gather the bleached bones that were buried there or lay scattered about. China's a pretty ancient country - lots of old battle-grounds - so they never had to search far. At the entrance to the city they'd construct a huge gate and seal the bones up inside. They hoped that by commemorating the dead soldiers in this way they would continue to guard their town. There's more. When the gate was finished they'd bring several dogs over to it, slit their throats, and sprinkle their blood on the gate. Only by mixing fresh blood with the dried-out bones would the ancient souls of the dead magically revive. At least that was the idea."
,,,,,Sumire waited in silence for me to go on. *silence*
,,,,,"Writing novels is much the same. You gather up bones and make your gate, but no matter how wonderful the gate might be, that alone doesn't make it a living, breathing novel. A story is not something of this world. A real story requires a kind of magical baptism to link the world on this side with the world on the other side."
,,,,,"So what you're saying is that I go out on my own and find my own dog?"
,,,,,I nodded. *pause*
,,,,,"And shed fresh blood?"
,,,,,Sumire bit her lip and thought about this. She tossed another hapless stone into the pond. *silence, plip* "I really don't want to kill an animal if I can help it."
,,,,,"It's a metaphor," I said. "You don't have to actually kill anything."'

listening to: I don't know but it's all right, some kind of metal