Friday, August 11, 2006

Angelheaded Hipsters Burning For The Ancient Heavenly Connection To The Starry Dynamo In The Machinery Of The Night

Can't put my finger on how or why it happened like it did, but in recent weeks I have become obsessed with the Beats all over again -- Ginsberg, Burroughs, Cassady, Kerouac et al. I picked up a Jack Kerouac bio last week from the library and can't put it down. The faith he had in his own work when publishers were rejecting his early stuff left & right speaks volumes about his integrity, in my opinion. He wouldn't change or edit his stuff when he had no leg to stand on, no money, no leverage -- only a vision. His personal life was a mess while he wrote his groundbreaking books. Alcoholic, drugged out on pot benzedrine morphine, simultaneously homophobic & homoerotic, making it with both guys & gals, freeloading on friends & family, hitching back & forth across the country chasing kicks, charasmatic & confused & religious & hopeless & joyful, free spirit & mama's boy, but always writing typing scribbling jotting it all down ... letters poems novels confessions -- all there in one fascinating package. Mad to live indeed. Above all, cool, when that word had meaning, before mass marketing to the youth market.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

...please where can I buy a unicorn?