the future is unwritten...

My brother (undergrad) passed on a copy of Kerouac's On The Road to me (high school) and everything changed. I prayed, oh-so earnestly prayed, for the life described within that flimsy paperback with the ugly sun on the cover. I prayed to be the vagabond, I prayed for a life on the road in a '49 Hudson, I prayed I prayed that I would write mad spontaneous prose atop an Underwood, I prayed to roam with

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 roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars...

Oh yes. I prayed.

More tears are shed over answered prayers than over unanswered ones. So said Teresa of Avila.

I received everything I prayed for, but the Lord knows better our hearts' desires than we. Kerouac the vagabond was transfigured to Ignatius the pilgrim. The '49 Hudson emerged as countless minivans and Camrys (Jesuit automotive staples). And the Underwood became...

...a blog.

And yes, the mad ones.

What's past is mere prologue, dear Bard.