Last week I was teaching Kerouac's last novel Big Sur (1962) about his descent into alcoholism, and I had no idea he had a secret novel tucked away!
Check out this link to the story of the lost novel, and the involvement of fellow Beat writer William S. Bourroughs.
As per this previous post, I am pleased to say I'm still (I am waiting on tenterhooks!) the "alternate" to live in Jack Kerouac's old Orlando, Florida house next summer.
The experience of three months with the ghost of Kerouac is sure to either improve my writing or drinking (yes to both)!
the novel that exploded was the one road book that i wrote when the mouse died in the cabin with the junkies and the turnstiles and the nova police seeking word addicts control on my ticket that exploded all over the hanged man and apple pie and cheese and baloney that i ate while praying to the real god of my mother at the top of the mountain with my talking asshole and junk sick skin and wounded arm that exploded on my needle and wouldn't you atrophy your premise on the soft machine ticket with the control addicts oozing like blinding starburst orgasm of the hanging man with white cum all over his junk and hey wouldn't you just embrace all that is zen man after all my father died and i woke up sick with the sound of a windbegone ticket that exploded while wising up the marks and the nova police sizing up my desolation in the town and the city and man that juzz drummer could wail like dean could drive all over my benzedrine
ReplyDeleteIs that one by Kerouac or Burroughs? :-)
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