Jack Kerouac Shooting Pool 1967
Jack Kerouac Shooting Pool 1967
Two amazing men..
Kerouac & Ginsberg :)
“What am I doing today? typing up Dharma Bums, all day, every day, while people ball in bars (it’s Saturday night) I toil and toil on my typewriter and get bored and so revert to letters like these…what a scribbler I am now. […] because everything, Allen, you ever ever wished for, will come true in TIME, don’t you know what that means?”
- Jack Kerouac in a letter to Allen Ginsberg (January 21st, 1958)
“As to you Kerouac, it is clear that your heavenly duty, your Buddha ballon, is to write, and that your unhappiness is undeserved in a way that only acceptance can make clear. What I mean to say is there stands the structure of your works and sublimity towering in my imagination untarnished. My tea leaves still read $$$ and FAME for you wether or not in the next ten years probably in this lifetime.
Your isolation like mine is sad and frightful mainly the blind alleys of money and love but life is not over, and much to be written and much to be respected in all of us not just for being humanity but for having tried and actually achieved a thing, namely literature and also possibly a certain spiritual eye at this point.”
- Ginsberg in a letter to Kerouac (June 18th, 1954)
Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac and Gregory Corso, 1957.
Ruscha pays tribute to Keouac’s seminal work.
“Remember above all things, Kid, that to write is not difficult, not painful, that it comes out of you with ease, that you can whip up a little tale in no time, that when you are sincere about it, that when you want to impress a truth, it is not difficult, not painful, but easy, graceful, full of smooth power, as if you were a writing machine with a store of literature that is boundless, enormous, endless, and rich. For it is true; this is so. Do not forget it in your gloomier moments. Make your stuff warm, drive it home American-wise, don’t mind critics, don’t mind the stuffy academic theses of scholars, they don’t know what they’re taking about, they’re way of the track, they’re cold; you’re warm, you’re red hot, you can write all day, you know what you know, like Halper; you remember that, Kid, and when you feel as if you cannot write, as if it is no use, as if life is no good, read this over and realize that you can do a lot of good in this world by turning out truths like these, by spreading warmth, by trying to preach living for life’s sake, not the intellectual way, but the warm way, the way of love, the way which says: Brothers, I greet you with open arms, I accept your frailties, I offer you my frailties, let us gather and run the gamut of rich human existence. Remember, Kid, the ease, the grace, the glory, the greatness of your art; remember it, never forget. Remember passion. Do not forget, do not forsake, do not forget. It is there, the order and the purpose; there is chaos, but not in you, not way down deep in your heart, no chaos, only ease, grace, beauty, love, greatness…..Kid, you can whip up a little tale, a little truth, you can mop up the floor with a little tale in no time; it is a cinch, you are the flow of smooth thrumming power, you are a writer, and you can turn out some mean stuff, and you will turn out tons of it, because it is you, and do not forget it, Kid, do not forget it; please, please Kid, do not forget yourself; save that, save that, preserve yourself; turn out those mean little old tales by the dozens, it is easy, it is grace, do it American-wise, drive it home, sell truth, for it needs to be sold. Remember, Kid, what I say to you tonight; never forget it, read this over in your gloomier moments and never, never forget…..never, never, never forget…..please, please, Kid please”
- Jack Kerouac in “Credo” (1941, nineteen years old)
Happy Birthday, Kerouac. Thank you for all that you did for literature and for living, for teaching us about that energy that we must follow in our lives where we do as we please instead of following what is expected. Your writings are timeless, your lessons and confessions have been valuable to generations previous, and all the generations that are not yet born. Though some do not realize your influence and genius, there are many of us that know your talent and know your words to be musings of the soul.
(12 March 1922 – 21 October 1969)