Summer Pierre comics & illustration

Victorian Hairstyles A collection of Victorian photographs ranging from 1855 - 1880’s.

A Slightly Embarrassing Love for Jack Kerouac

I love “On the Road,” despite knowing very well that it’s a fantastical and likely toxic account, blind to both engines of privilege and the sacrifices inherent to endless meandering. Any ongoing affinity for the book is a way of signalling to the world that you are still enthralled by juvenile and illusory notions of freedom. Yet I’m nonetheless cowed by the rhythm and the elegance of Kerouac’s prose, how he taps into the wild energy of adolescent wanting. I was a brooding and sullen high-school freshman when I first read “On the Road,” still doing the hard and complicated work of figuring out how I fit into the world. It seems apt that the most quoted line from “On the Road” suggests we simply give in to our longings. To do otherwise is cowardly (or, worse, boring): “ . . . the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!’ ”