Title: In Michigan I Know By Now
Subtext: Travels with memories making memories again.
Date: 18 Nov 14 (Tuesday in the PM)
Time: Less than a minute
Replies: 10
Revisions: 6
Publicity: Superfeed

Three hundred miles northeast of Iowa, more or less, as the car drives. No babies are crying; there are no sounds at all. Nobody will admit it but the airport is closed. Nobody will admit it but the television’s wrong. The stars are furiously collapsing in the form of snowflakes, sending unprepared drivers cursing as they abandon slammed doors and begin the trudge through uncertain drift.

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by Facebook,

starving hysterical naked.

There is no social media.

I ditched Neal Cassady on the streets of Denver, searching for his dad and legal marijuana, counting the ties that bind the rails.

The road ends where the rails converge. It ends with the snow on your ankles. Nobody will admit that it ends at all, but if you turn around it begins again.

Get out of there. Find another airport.


Rabbit » Authorship
Rabbit » 11:48 AM 22 Feb 15
Rabbit » 11:47 AM 22 Feb 15
Elk » 9:44 PM 18 Nov 14
Rabbit » 9:35 PM 18 Nov 14
Rabbit » 9:35 PM 18 Nov 14
Rabbit » 9:34 PM 18 Nov 14

The Thread (10)

 Author's voice in grey. 

  1. I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by Facebook, ‘starving hysterical naked.’ There is no social media. The second and third thirds may never be written.

    I’m drawn to the prospect of recognizing how much quality content Facebook and other social media outlets have sucked from the minds of a generation, and how badly it’s been reformatted/repurposed to no good end.

  2. Three good reads and something different each time. A little Dick Brautigan, a little inspiration from a Beat generation. A little Michigan, straight up – not that I should know, but for some reason I do.

    You oughta know!

  3. I also read it three times and got a little something different each time. It glimmers – turn it this way and it shines like that, turn it that way and it shines like this.

  4. This piece gets better every day. Highest quality, @rabbit.

  5. Yeah, this is good stuff. It should be surrounded by other good Rabbit stuff, then published in 1957, distributed and discussed worldwide, find acclaim and critique from the world’s greatest minds not yet destroyed by drugs and grocery stores and Twitter feeds, and become a pillar of culture, until years later, during a mid-November lake effect snowstorm, in a closed Michigan airport, a bent and yellowed copy makes its way into the hands of some young literary upstart bearing a lagomorphic moniker.

    Where it will be abandoned and, aptly, found again.

  6. Three hundred miles northeast of Iowa, more or less.

    Even if you’re in Dubuque or Davenport, that puts you on the eastern shores of the lake. And there’s an airport. What are we talking here? Lansing? Kalamazoo? Grand Rapids? I like the choices of Iowa and Michigan for reference points. But it’s peculiar. And I’m curious.

  7. Ann Arbor – it’s always Ann Arbor.

  8. Grand Rapids. Bastards can’t handle a little November blizzard.

    Glad it was well-received. It was a let’s-see-what-I-can-bang-out-before-passing-out kind of thing.

  9. @horse – thanks for the heads-up on Brautigan.

  10. Was introduced to Brautigan a couple of years ago with In Watermelon Sugar. Couldn’t make it through but found it amazing. Like a funhouse I wasn’t quite sure of.

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