Kerouac was a reluctant celebrity & a cynic.
Jack cried over the total majesty of existence.
Kerouac criss-crossed the country for kicks.
Jack collected the world in secret notebooks. Kerouac broke typewriters with mad poetics.
Jack stayed up all night to lay his days down.
Kerouac wrote straight thru at whoosh-speed.
Jack met each day knowing a young man’s joy. Kerouac lived in the night of immortal boyhood.
Jack forever loved what he found in his twenties.
Kerouac never learned to love any-thing as much.
Jack loved his mother more than any other woman.Kerouac wanted every woman to be like his mother.
Jack touched upon the joyful suffering of enlightenment.
Kerouac became decadent & drunk & stopped giving a shit.
Jack was a wine-sipping Catholic who couldn’t kill himself, but Kerouac determinately drank until he vomited whiskey & blood.
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