on the road

on the plane coming to san francisco, i began to read the first of my many designated summer reading books. just thought i would jot down this passage:

"i woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when i didn't know who i was - i was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room i'd never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and all the sad sounds, and i looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn't know who i was for about fifteen strange seconds. i wasn't scared; i was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost. i was halfway across america, at the dividing line between the east of my youth and the west of my future, and maybe that's why it happened right there and then, that strange red afternoon."

looking forward to the haight today.