"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 candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Aww!".
-Jack Kerouac
Sometimes we go on random adventures. And find shopping carts. And he pushes me around me in them. And we smoke hookah sticks in them. So much. I like him. Just a bit
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