Sunday, another drive south on Pacific Highway One – PCH 1. Sunday after Sunday, it is the closest I will ever get to a religious experience, I don`t know whether to smoke it, drive it, fuck it, fight it or pray for it. PCH 1, is the edge of the world, the beginning and the end. First stop: Point Lobos, sea-otters and seals in Chinamans Cove a little secluded beach in an area once called the most stunning meet of land and water.
From Point Lobos we continued to Big Sur to visit the Henry Miller library. Miller, the punk of punks, the bizarre, brilliant and obsessive fuckball, the writer and the painter whose work was an constant struggle for freedom of expression, a passionate quest in the dawn of an industrialized and rapidly changing world. Tropic of Cancer was among other materials written in Paris in the mid 1930s, and should, I think, be considered as one the most influential pieces of modern literature.
Miller settled in Big Sur in 1944, and was during the fifties and sixties a central focuspoint for many writers of the beat-generation and upcoming actors like Jack Nicholson and Peter Fonda.
The library is NOT as many think, where Miller actually lived, but the house of friend and companion Emil White which he often visited, but nonetheless a place full of vibe and goodspirited humans.
Yesterday I met a guy working there: Magnus from Sweden, who have been living in the area for 21 years. What puzzled me when I entered the library was the sounded of swedish rockband KENT coming from the speakers, which quickly let to a conversation on music and lyrics and the general state of things. I introduced him to the world of BOB HUND, and promised to send some outtakes his way. One can not possible begin to grasp contemporary Sweden without listening to the track: “Paperspåse” from the brilliant album “Omslag: Martin Kann".

small gods looks like this
http://www.henrymiller.org/

and this
http://www.powerfloe.com/media/DESKTOP%20PHOTOS/POINT-LOBOS-COVE2-1024.jpg