All Fucked Up
2002-01-17 07:18:54 (UTC)

Signed, Remi Boncouer/Ray

While reading Kerouac's "On The Road" a minute ago, I
stumbled upon this:

SAL PARADISE! If nobody's home
climb in through the window.
Remi Boncouer.

I'm not Remi Boncoeur, but I do have a good buddy whom the
cats call Sal Paradise. Sal is my best guy friend. He gave
me a card for Christmas that was originally intended to be
given to his father on their second meeting. His old man
never came through....and so, after two years of saving the
card...that very card that carrys w/it what I think is safe
to call a "certain history" falls into my undeserving
hands. And I.....I accepted it in sheer stoke. If I wasn't
so hard-headed to the point that I don't believe in crying,
I would have

Sal is a beautiful guy. Beyond words. He's taught me so
many things in life and I don't believe he's even aware of
it. Dude's taught me be a young lady.
Really...laugh-out-fuckin'-loud. Well...the terminolgy
could be fixed...but not even God could fix that. My words
are my verbal much a part of my identity as
Sal, my baby brother (though I call him my sister in
actuality, as he could out-feminize even lie).
Soul sisters

Sprawled inside the card were some touching words of
gratitude for my family and them allowing him in our house.
Dude, Paradise-- you're part of the family, kid, and you
know it! In this case, I think Kerouac's words could just
as well be my father's words in concern to Sal: If nobody's
home climb in through the window.