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It’s interesting writing, but is it possible to seek American authenticity without shitting on your American neighbors? There’s a lot of genuine living and dying, dreaming and struggling in those cities and suburbs he seems to regard as some kind of bourgeois hellhole. As a lifelong dropout from mainstream culture, I’m willing to bet he doesn’t actually know the first thing about it. I don’t so loathe myself as to accept this as some kind of noble poetry, nor do I loathe him enough to put down his lifestyle which makes no sense to me. Maybe part of America’s bones (which, lest we forget, were made by those fleeing the persecuting judgment of their lifestyle) is in not judging another man until you’ve walked a mile in his moccasins.

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Exquisite writing, and I look forward to following the series of articles, but I have to agree that there's more to the story than just the open road and eschewing the urban in the experience. America exists there too.

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