Dear Jack,

You have probably never heard of me, and probably can’t hear me unless there is a working form of magic that science has yet to touch. There have been a lot of prayers traveling lately, racing every which way like their authors in panic. So even if this kind of thing actually works, it might have a tricky time reaching its destination.

Someone on tonight’s news said that one gallon of gas was four dollars. Of all the people whose tickets to What’s Next have been collected and torn in half, I thought I’d try to send this message on to someone who would immediately understand what kind of damper it puts On The Road to freedom.

It’s getting complicated. Anything you might be able to do directly or through the communication chain would be greatly appreciated.

Your Reader,
~Autumn May~



8 responses to “Kerouassady

    • Short Essay response.

      I got into Beat Reading from having seen The Last Time I Committed Suicide – it features some of the correspondence between Jack and Neal Cassady. Mostly a lot of narrative about chasing sensations, and the cameras in the movie were always heavily saturating details like… pool balls. A loaf of bread. When I saw that the addictive-behaviorisque film was based on actual events, I researched the entire scene and decided to pick up a few of Jack’s books.

      Then I found out he was this tender alcoholic who liked to gush about the people he knew and admired. I realized that the only reason I liked Neal Cassady’s character in that movie was because Jack had made him an icon. Behind every crazy road trip, he went along because he was in love with everyone.

      Always reminded me of myself, because I’m someone who watches the watchers, if that makes any sense. There’s like – the attraction, it seems, and while everyone would go home and write about THAT, I’d go home and write about the people who saw it. Reading Kerouac’s books for the first time was like finding out that everything you believed was being believed by someone ELSE, too. Very religion-ish feeling.

      Everything I read about that period in history takes a turn for the absolute worst, and there’s an entire reality that Jack doesn’t glorify (obviously) in his writing. He was actually a very sad man whose final days were very painful. I don’t know why everyone didn’t realize that they weren’t shit without him.

      I wish someone had been watching him.

      • Re: Short Essay response.

        What a touching and sad essay. And so very true. There’s nothing more indicative of this than Jack’s Book of Dreams. He glorifies the most mundane acts of his fellow beat generation cronies. Not to mention the just plain folks he ran into during his travels. He had such a passion for observation. I wonder what demons tortured him so, that he felt the only way he could destroy them was to destroy himself. It’s a clear case of curing the disease by killing the patient. I would like to have known him.

    • Mandi –

      I let Bunny go after I found where all the others were burrowed. I think Lacy uncovered the nest and had only gotton to the baby on the top ( she threw it around the backyard a few seconds before I caught on) and so… I tried to put some stuff back together, and I put the bunny back down in the hole/nest once I figured none of the bones were broken.

    • Thanks?

      Well, sure. I have a little bit of them all – and although he isn’t exactly considered, I loved Dylan’s book and (duh) his music. But Kerouac, in my opinion, is 10x better than the others.

      What about you, mother?

      • Re: Thanks?

        oh yeah bob dylan is cool… aside from mr kerouac i really like allen ginsberg and charles bukowski and william burroughs, but yeah jack kerouac is mega supreme superstar

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