Black Rebel Motorcycle Club ASK iAN * TI JEAN * March 12, 1922 – October 21, 1969

Ask iAN

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ASK iAN * TI JEAN * March 12, 1922 – October 21, 1969


As usual, i am a day late and a dollar short, thus
making yesterday Jack Kerouac's birthday.

I don't relate too much to modern america these days with our psycho political & obsolete religiosity standards it makes it somewhat difficult to call myself a proud american.
However, when i think to those i gaze upon as true America...the one i AM proud to be a part of...I of course think of Jack Kerouac.

Jack means so many things to so many different people
and i was lucky enough to get introduced to him early on...which i think is's important because i think Jack has a youthful message....and when you get older, his writing is somewhat like talking about the old days with an old a lot of it gets kind of lost on older cats like myself.  i have no desire to turn my dick and balls into ice cubes trying to catch a ghost train in the dead of night with the wind chill factor somewhere between witche's tit and ice cream headache.  I don't wanna travel on a greyhound bus anymore mama, with it's toxic stench of green piss and schizos trying to decapitate me, while the guy in front of me jerks off beneath a newspaper while the bus loses a wheel down an off ramp as the driver is thanx Jack.

I felt there was a decison when i was younger...
The Jack Kerouac Road or University Lane...i think you can tell which one i rode...

Jack was complicated...he thought way outside of the world...i myself often travel that thought path...and that kind of thinking will help you lose jobs.
I liked the fact that in the time he was young he
smoked grass, he had homosexual friends, he hung out with black folks
all these types of things were taboo and frowned upon...Jack flew over the frowns and ignorance and he burned on past...he taught people how to think different.
To See different, to hear different and to love different...and sometimes his message is lost on people and sometimes it is lived.
When i think of Jack i think of
Lotus Flowers
James Dean, Bob Dylan,
ghost, booze, nostalgia, the loss of family and friends
i think about life, death, god, the devil, regret, holding on and letting go...and i think about laughing at the absurdity of it all and floating
down the infinite halls and space of time which is the original always...

I don't think of sitting in cafes
I don't think of poetry readings and slams
I don't think of jazz scat razz a ma tazz hip talking like some of these fruitbats try to do at bookstores and galleries...that type of Jack scat can really put
me off my piss and i wind up in the bog slamming down 7 beers i brought in a backpack just for that reason...

I don't recall Jack using much punctuation...and i myself...i make up my own punctuation or lack of***
Too busy trying to write down what the ghost in the head is relaying...i got no time for hyphens, baby.

I fancy that what i learned from Jack i still put to good use...i still see, hear and feel and burn...
I see the poor old woman...her holocaust eyes
I still see the death clouds running like black horses in the 4 am skies
I still see the ghost of the young and old in dirty little towns with their old brick buildings and faded adverts of yesteryears...etc...

Jack is reflective
nostalgic...and it's good to sew this into your spleen...but too much nostalgia and you can get lost...which is kind of what happened to poor Jackie.
The man was tired...still trying to live up to the myth...and it's no wonder he blew blood like an exploding old car engine...

Too much nostalgia and the work stops getting done...

I think you honor Jack by taking a chance on yourself instead of always playing by the rules...
You honor him by saying YES sometimes instead of always NO...
You remain young at let the ghost of the past find some rest...instead of trying to recapture capture Today.

Don't go jumping trains late at night and getting your legs severed or your asshole torn out by some rail riding crystal meth x body builder...take a fuckun' plane or travel with friends by car...motorcycle trips with friends while time for DUI jail time or becoming road pizza...

Love your friends while they last
Respect yourself, work hard, cast a shadow and never forget you're never too young or old to
Shake, Rattle and Roll*


Kerouac’s Tips 1.Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy 2.Submissive to everything, open, listening 3.Try never get drunk outside yr own house 4.Be in love with yr life 5.Something that you feel will find its own form 6.Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind 7.Blow as deep as you want to blow 8.Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind 9.The unspeakable visions of the individual 10.No time for poetry but exactly what is 11.Visionary tics shivering in the chest 12.In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you 13.Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition 14.Like Proust be an old teahead of time 15.Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog 16.The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye 17.Write in recollection and amazement for yourself 18.Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea 19.Accept loss forever 20.Believe in the holy contour of life 21.Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind 22.Don’t think of words when you stop but to see picture better 23.Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning 24.No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge 25.Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it 26.Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form 27.In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness 28.Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better 29.You’re a Genius all the time 30.Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven Thanx to Kelly Paterson

Dr. Sax
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