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April 28, 2015 by musehick

Reading Kerouac on the bus takes me back. When I first came over here I was reading a Kerouac book and Bukowski poetry as I moved from one friend’s couch to the next. Spoken word and couch surfing, with a little bit of sight seeing.

I wasn’t here liken tourist, and I never felt like one. People notice I am English, obviously, but it seems more irrelevant than ever after being out here nearly 8 years.

I don’t know if I write from a nationalistic viewpoint any more than I ever did, because I always felt I wrote more from a philosophical stance, and from a political place in the sense of the personal as political.

My poetry and a lot of my writing, of late has come from the life I am living, and it feels qualitatively different. Will there be an evolution in evidence when I have done with this mortal chapter in the story? I hope so. We’ll see, won’t we? For now I am happy concentrating on the next project.

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Emma Ortega Negrete

YOUR LIFECOACH EMPOWERING YOUR SPIRIT TO IGNITE YOUR BEST SELF!

Sarah in Zombieland

Books, movies, video games, and life style.

choices in error

Introspections artistry externalized

Destination Humanity

Chasing big dreams one photo at a time

emotionspassion.com

emotional musings- emotionspassion@gmail.com

thehumananvil

Here we speak, here we hear.

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