Oh Jack I heard you wrote your most famous novel "On the road" on a roll of toilet paper. What a beat you had. It would sometimes run on like a Gene Krupa drum solo full of syncopated metaphors, drunken adventures in bebop with Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty pretending to be Allen Ginsberg's ghost and Neal Cassady's wife all smoking hash in a mexican brothel together forelonely in the dark celebrating what would have been your 85th birthday today. What beatnik does not owe you a thousand Prayers? Where would the hippies have come from without you Jack? Counter Culture will be reading your haikus, vive-ing vicariously through your prose and dreaming your dreams for years to come. The moment is what you captured so well, inspiring youths of all generations to take that journey with you and inspire them to live life a little fuller by going out and celebrating in a hedonistic manner capturing the carpe diem only a rebel may know. In honor of your birthday I have invited some of my dirtiest beatnick friends to celebrate with us. Leave your birthday message to Jack in the comments below.
3 comments:
Happy Birthday jack and thank you from the bottom of my soul for what you showed me, that it was OK to prefer the company of down and outs and people mad for living, that it is OK to shut yourself up in a hut in the mountains and just meditate and not worry about all the things things things down below. I don't fear so much since I read your books, and your advice was sound...never get drunk outside yr own house...just think if everyone followed that advice.
Thank you for inspiring Tom Waits, Bob Dylan, Johnny Depp, Frank Zappa (and Carolyn Cassidy to write "Off The Road") Happy Birthday Jack.
This post is fabulous, a real Jack Kerouac tribute.
I'm snapping my fingers.
It's hard to type.
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