I returned to college in the Fall, but my mind wasn’t at rest. My family was not any too well fixed; I felt out of place, the coaches were insulting, I was lonely; I left and went down to the South to think things over. Since then, on my own, I have been learning fast, writing a lot, reading good men, and have been slowly making up my mind, seriously & quietly. Either I am loathsome to others, I have decided, or else I shall be a beacon of rich warm light, spreading good and plenty, making things prosper, being a cosmic architect, conquering the world and being respected, myself grinning surreptitiously. Either that, Sirs, or I shall be the most loathsome, useless, and parasitical (on myself) creature in the world. I shall be a denizen of the Underground, or a successful man of the world. There shall be no compromise!!! I mean it. —  

A 19-year-old Jack Kerouac writing in his diary in 1941, at once a living testament to the richness of life as a college-dropout-turned-lifelong-learner and a poignant meditation on the most fundamental tension of the human condition.

From the superb New York Diaries.

(via explore-blog)

derrierelasalledebains:

William Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg

“Natalie Jackson, Neal Cassady’s girlfriend during the spring of 1955, at Allen’s 1010 Montgomery Street apartment, San Francisco. ‘Natalie bewildered by amphetamine police jitters jumped off her roof to death a year later.’ c. Allen Ginsberg Estate.”

there are no ways of love but/beautiful/
I love you all of them
I love you / your cock in my hand
stirs like a bird
in my fingers
as you swell and grow hard
in my hand
forcing fingers open
with your rigid strength
you are a hundred times beautiful
I stroke you with my loving hands
pink-nailed long fingers
I caress you
I adore you
my finger-tips… my palms…
you cock rises and throbs in my hands
a revelation / as Aphrodite knew it

there was a time when gods were purer
/ I can recall nights among the honeysuckle
our juices sweeter than honey
/we were the temple and the god entire

I am naked against you
and I put my mouth on you slowly
I have a longing to kiss you
and my tongue makes worship on you
you are beautiful

your body moves to me
flesh to flesh
skin sliding over golden skin
as mine to yours
my mouth my tongue my hands
my belly and my legs
against your mouth your love
sliding… sliding…
our bodies move and join
unbearably

your face above me
is the face of all the gods
and beautiful demons
your eyes….

love touches love
the temple and the god
are one

—  Lenore Kandel, God/Love. (via corrugatedskulls)

(Source: fuckingthedog)

(Source: freegucci)

explore-blog:

How Jack Kerouac wrote On The Road, part of designer Johnson Banks’ fantastic poster titled The Power of Creativity

(↬ Quipsologies)

(Source: )

Peter Orlovsky, Allen Ginsberg, Natalie Jackson, and Neal Cassady.

(Source: of-reality)

On the death of Cathryn Casamo.

This is the real secret of life — to be completely engaged with what you are doing in the here and now. And instead of calling it work, realize it is play. —  Alan Watts (via luniversale)