"There he is! That's him! Old God! Old God Shearing! Yes! Yes! Yes! And Shearing was conscious of the madman behind him, he could hear every one of Dean's gasps, and imprecations, he could sense it though he couldn't see. "That's right!" Dean said. "Yes!" Shearing smiled; these were his great 1949 days before he became cool and commercial. When he was gone Dean pointed to the empty piano seat. "God's empty chair," he said. On the piano a horn sat; its golden shadow made a strange reflection along the desert caravan painted on the wall behind the drums. God was gone; it was the silence of his departure. It was a rainy night. It was the myth of the rainy night. Dean was popeyed with awe. This madness would lead nowhere. I didn't know what was happening to me, and I suddenly realized it was only the tea that we were smoking; Dean had bought some in New York. It made me think that everything was about to arrive --- the moment when you know all and everything is decided forever."
-- from his novel, On the Road.
Finally, I picked up a copy, to give it a chance despite ignorant skepticism. So far, half way through, I'm loving it.