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Jack Kerouac

March 6, 2010

So often we read words that others have written.  Some of those words become indelibly etched in ones psyche.  We all have our favourite writers, songs, colors, smells, places, people.  I was in my 30’s when I read ‘On The Road’ by Jack.

I just want to quote this ‘beat bard’ in this short hommage:


‘……The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say common place things but burn, burn, burn like fabulous, yellow, roman candles, exploding like spiders across the stars…….”

Stream of consciousness has often been a description of his and his coterie, Ginsberg and Cassidy.  Beats.  So much of our language grew from theirs.   Jazz and the evil weed were a big part of it, booze and sex, death.  Stick around cos I aint finished yet.

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