June 30, 2004
The best writing is done with disappearing ink. Such words shimmer and become transparent as the underlying images surface. The entranced writer records his visions to hypnotize the reader. Kerouac said that a writer should interrupt his trance only to focus his mind's eye more clearly on the internal movie. I see Kerouac, hunched over his bulky Underwood, alone in a shadow-drowned room, hands motionless on the keys. At his right sits an ashtray, spilling over with old butts and spent Benzedrine inhalers. His eyes focus beyond the page and watch pictures rise from deep within the typewriter's mechanical guts.