K is for Kerouac

One of my roommates had a theory that sometimes it was okay to meet a boy and have a "moment" with him. You had no history with him and wretchedly, no future either due to unforeseeable obstacles. But in that fleeting interaction, you could find someone who understood you. One of my moments came at the end of my last winter semester during a church potluck. I sat down at a table already occupied by this cute boy. He had Dylan-esque blond hair and his arms were smudged up and down with ink.

By some bizarre linking of subjects, we ended up discussing the connections between biology and art. He was taking a screenprinting class and I asked if I could see some of his work. One of his pieces was inspired by "On The Road" and when I murmured my approval, he asked if I ever read it. I had to confess that I had not but that it was very, very high on my list of to-reads and he seemed impressed that I even knew what he was talking about. He was moving away for the summer and I was graduating, so nothing came of it. I have to admit that the encounter was perfect as is.

(Apparently the middle of the alphabet is where all my good guy stories take place.)


Behind-the-scenes update: So you know what's really distracting/awesome? The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. It lives up to the buzz, combining the tactical suspense from Ender's Game with the emotional complexity of The Book Thief, which is high praise indeed.