Desolation Angels by Jack Kerouac.

I started reading this book about six weeks ago, but had to put it down because it was too depressing. I've recently picked it up again. (Who writes the book report 1/3 of the way through the book? Silliness, I say!)

Warning: One cracked mind alone on a mountaintop is not going to author an easy read. You kinda have to give up hope of any intellectual, linear
comprehension of the words on the page; instead, you have to somersault into right-brain mode and inhabit the language, not just follow along with the words. Like a Hendrix guitar solo, there is nothing in your memory banks with which you can associate it to make the experience more familiar. You just have to give up and go with it.

So, I'm liking it.

I think.