Beatniks, Hippies, and And Why Everyone Else Sucks

Ok, so maybe that title is a wee bit...how you say...harsh. But it got your attention didn't it?

Or maybe not.



Anyway, I've been reading a lot of Jack Kerouac lately (and if you're close to me in ANY way, you're sick of hearing about him). And I guess my lazy ass became less lazy when I realized that I had an essay on one of his books due a few days ago. So that's how I got back into the act of reading (because I'm a lazy sparknotes-using bum). And I just think the guy's a fantastic writer (who happens to have a great eye for style, according to GQ).



I guess the first time I heard about Kerouac was actually in my Creative Writing class. My absolutely TERRIBLE teacher happened to mention him. Back when I still had some sort of respect for her, I took the name down in my notebook and moved on with life. Then I read about him online on some hippy website. So I say to myself "Is this guy like some sort of SQUID or something?" So naturally I checked out one of his works when I found he was on my list for my English term paper. I was all set.



And just so you don't think this was some random post, I'm going to connect this to the Walrus in some way.



I think Kerouac personifies the word "Walrus" in ways Lennon couldn't put to song. Being a ranting walrus requires a topic you wanna rant about and just go on and on and on and on about it until everyone is sick of the subject. Kerouac had a vision about a free-spirited youth that did whatever they felt like, which included having casual sex, smoking a ton of pot, and listening to music no one else would listen to. His books were flooded with such imagery. His LIFE was flooded with such imagery.

And yet he somehow hated hippies. Go figure!

Now go read On The Road. And when you're ready to hitch hike across America, give me a holler and off we'll go!