New Year Through the Same Eyes

So it's a new year, isn't it? Which brings across thoughts of memories past, moments not yet experienced, maybe a couple resolutions.. just lots of thoughts I guess. I'm on Long Island for a little while now; a couple weeks I guess. I've been doing my best to keep up with my creative writing (my poetry, prose, etc.) and I'm thinking about looking into doing a LI reading but I'm not sure yet. The NYC readings have gone so well that I'd really like to keep up with doing these readings.

Some people who follow the blog have been asking me to add some of the new material on here. I'm not sure if I'm going to do that yet. I might want to keep the material fresh for readings for a little while first. Whether or not I do a reading on Long Island before I head back to Manhattan, I'll definitely be reading in the city soon. I'm trying to work out as many cool places as possible, so I promise you'll all be the first ones to know about that, and if you're going to be in the NYC area I'd love to have you there. The reading at Kouzan was an incredible experience; the love and support I received there from friends, loved ones, colleagues, and mentors was just overwhelming, in the best way possible. Not to mention, having our own private room in such a nice venue was a great set-up for us.

So with all of that being said, please continue to check back and look for updates on either my writing, or the other material and issues I discuss on the blog. If you haven't already, please take the time to officially become a follower (it's super easy and quick, I promise.)

One last thing.. a lot of people have been asking me what I've been reading lately since I haven't blogged specifically about any particular books lately. I'll probably be finishing Kerouac's 'Big Sur' by the end of Tuesday I believe. That's another great book of his, I'll make a separate post about that, so I won't get into it now. In the meantime I've also started reading some of Marcel Proust. Him I could probably blog about for a month, there's a lot of everything there between his personal life and his written work.

Happy New Year, I wish you all the best in 2011.. health, happiness, success, and so much more.

On The Road (Part Two)

The following excerpt is from Jack Kerouac's On The Road, (p. 209-210)

We were telling these things and both sweating. We had completely forgotten the people up front who had begun to wonder what was going on in the back seat. At one point the driver said, "For God's sakes, you're rocking the boat back there." Actually we were; the car was swaying as Dean and I both swayed to the rhythm and the IT of our final excited joy in talking and living to the blank tranced end of all innumerable riotous angelic particulars that had been lurking in our souls all our lives.

"Oh, man! Oh, man! Oh, man!" moaned Dean. "And it's not even the beginning of it - and now here we are at last going east together, we've never gone east together, Sal, think of it, we'll dig Denver together and see what everybody's doing although that matters little to us, the point being that we know what IT is and we know TIME and we know that everything is really FINE." Then he whispered, clutching my sleeve, sweating, "Now you just dig them in front. They have worries, they're counting the miles, they're thinking about where to sleep tonight, how much money for gas, the weather, how they'll get there - and all the time they'll get there anyway, you see. But they need to worry and betray time with urgencies false and otherwise, purely anxious and whiny, their souls really won't be at peace unless they can latch on to an established and proven worry and having once found it they assume facial expressions to fit and go with it, which is, you see, unhappiness, and all the time it all flies by them and they know it and that too worries them no end."

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Photographed above, on the left is Neal Cassady, (the real-life Dean Moriarty,) and on the left is Jack Kerouac (a.k.a. Sal Paradise)

'On The Road' (Part One)

I was sitting on the subway today reading Kerouac’s 'On The Road'; now, anybody that’s read it will tell you that it’s rather brilliant and vivid and throw in some sort of whimsical remark like, “it’s poignant yet raw.” It’s one of those books that when asked if they’ve read it, more than half of the people that haven’t read a line of it will say something like “oh yes, it was a while ago though,” in hopes that you won’t ask them anything about the book, or God forbid, ask them what their favorite part was.

So I’m sitting on the E train reading this book that I can hardly allow myself to put down, and I couldn’t help but think to myself, “wow, that Sal just has so much life in him.” Now for those of you that are not familiar with the book (and it’s alright if you aren’t, but after you read this, I expect you to fit picking up a copy into your schedule this week,) Sal is the main character. I found it interesting the first time that our narrator is referred to by name, which doesn’t happen until a handful of chapters into the book, but I found it interesting that his name was Sal, and not Jack. Mentally I just replace all the Sal’s on the page with Jack’s, and then it feels more like Jack Kerouac’s account of his adventures on the road, as he travels slowly but surely to Denver, Colorado.

I’m not very far into the book yet, but I already have this deep appreciation for, and connection to, this character Sal. He is an instantly likeable guy, sort of wandering through the country to ultimately meet his buddies from New York (his home) in Denver. That’s not important right now though; what’s important is the life and curiosity that this one character has in everything he does. I found myself thinking about Jack, and how most of what he wrote in this book is probably what really happened to him; most of the people he describes were probably real people. Names and certain details may have been changed in some cases, but for the most part left alone.

Jack Kerouac unfortunately died at the age of 47 due to cirrhosis of the liver; he essentially drank himself to death. If you flip to the back of the book, there’s a picture of young Jack, and a brief bio on the inside flap of the jacket cover. I thought, alright so he’s dead now, but his writing, his persona, his experiences and memories… those are still so incredibly alive. I feel more alive just reading them. I forgot until that point, that Kerouac was no longer alive; mostly because the book reads as if Jack is telling you this big long series of stories that all intertwine (and admittedly sometimes get confusing,) but always come back to the big picture. Jack referred to his style of writing as "spontaneous prose," which I think is a pretty accurate way to describe it. I'd say that it's an off-shoot of "stream of consciousness" writing. And I came to the conclusion that writers live on regardless of the date on their death certificate; maybe forever. They are alive now after their body has expired, because of the life they put into the words that they carefully placed on the pages of their books. That will live on forever.

This is my first post about On The Road, and I intend to write at least a few more, as I continue my reading, along with including some lines and quotes that I find particularly poetic and meaningful to share with you. And once again, I highly encourage you to pick up a copy of 'On The Road' if you have yet to read it.