I know America

Furthermore we know America, we’re at home; I can go anywhere in America and get what I want because it’s the same in every corner, I know the people, I know what they do. We give and take and go in the incredibly complicated sweetness zigzagging every side.

Yeah, I went down to the bookstore today and bought a smooth-skinned paperback copy of On the Road, to quench my language-whining. And whad’ya know if it hasn’t made me just a little bit homesick. I’ve been thinking and saying and swearing up and down that I don’t really miss any meaningful tangible things from home, just people and that inevitable quality of familiarity that comes when you grow up in a place, but I was wrong. I do miss things about the States, and they’re popping out of this book, all tangled up with youth and wanderlust and smothered in exuberance. They’re things without names - can you name them?