They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I’ve been doing all my life after people who interest me, because 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…
—  Jack Kerouac, On The Road
30 Interesting Things About Me

1. I have eye glasses but you won’t see me wearing them often

2. I like songs with crappy lyrics - I just met you, this is crazy, here’s my number.. *shoots self*

3. I dropped out of engineering

4. I flew all the way to Vietnam just to meet someone (she’s my girlfriend now)

5. I have two right feet. I can’t dance.

6. I cry at movies

7. I’d prefer walking. I can walk for hours. I’d walk to anywhere.

8. I’m passionate about taking pictures and film making

9. “Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me so is ever on the road” - Jack Kerouac, is probably my favourite quote of all time

10. “The Beach” captures the things that go on in my head quite succinctly

11. I’m obsessed with retiring early and traveling the world

12. I’m known to be super calm under pressure, I rarely hit the panic button

13. I’m still trying to figure out the meaning of life

14. I consider myself Buddhist

15. I used to be a Chelsea fan - that was back then when I knew nothing about football.

16. Arsene Wenger is my role model

17. I can’t date a girl who doesn’t read

18. I find it difficult to have a conversation with people who aren’t stirred by the things happening around them

19. I’m not a big fan of political labels but I’ll always be more socialist than capitalist.

20. I have a soul of a dreamer

21. Freedom is probably the most important thing to me. Freedom to do whatever, freedom from whatever

22. Being a good father to my kids is very important to me

23. I often struggle writing

24. I feel at home at libraries

25. I’ve failed at keeping a journal two years in row but I’m still at it, who knows maybe 3rd times the charm?

26. More often than not I’m neutral and draw vibes from people around me

27. I’m in love with history

28. I have a really good memory and I can often easily recall things most people have long forgotten

29. I haven’t found my sense of style yet

30. I do not believe in afterlife

The world you see is just a movie in your mind.
Rocks dont see it.
Bless and sit down.
Forgive and forget.
Practice kindness all day to everybody
and you will realize you’re already
in heaven now.
That’s the story.
That’s the message.
Nobody understands it,
nobody listens, they’re
all running around like chickens with heads cut
off. I will try to teach it but it will
be in vain, s’why I’ll
end up in a shack
praying and being
cool and singing
by my woodstove
making pancakes.
—  Jack Kerouac
My posts to Tumblr

“One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.”
Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums

I’m still working it out: what I write here.

Poetry.

Aphorisms.

Stories.

My life.

Something; anything (of interest to me).

Nothing of interest.

It’s tantalising to believe that showing up is enough, but it’s not in this age of mass production.

To my mind, it has to mean something.

But of course, most people don’t write like that – and I’ve been a victim of that elixir. 

I will though carry on.

As I’ve said in the past, the act (of writing) changes us; in that sense, I’ve no choice, for life is always work in progress.

one last thing
— 

you put the band aid on my finger but it belonged on my heart / you couldn’t see / your glasses were smudged with tears and that’s okay mine were too / we knew the world was coming to an end /

we read the horoscopes alright / but there was no point in digging bunkers or emptying out the grocery store / we were each of us ready in our own little way / i had the tissues and you had your albums /

i was ready for a weep-a-thon and you, you were itching to turn on your new record player / see, that’s how it ends / not in flames, not in floods or earthquakes / but in tears

// the ending of this poem is inspired by a line from a jack kerouac novel called “the dharma bums” – “everything ends in tears anyway” //

anonymous asked:

was neal cassady a real person?

yeah, he was an author! he was friends with Jack Kerouac and all that lot :p he was awesome and it was sad how he died :(

Pull my daisy
tip my cup
all my doors are open
Cut my thoughts
for coconuts
all my eggs are broken
Jack my Arden
gate my shades
woe my road is spoken
Silk my garden
rose my days
now my prayers awaken

Bone my shadow
dove my dream
start my halo bleeding
Milk my mind &
make me cream
drink me when you’re ready
Hop my heart on
harp my height
seraphs hold me steady
Hip my angel
hype my light
lay it on the needy

Heal the raindrop
sow the eye
bustmy dust again
Woe the worm
work the wise
dig my spade the same
Stop the hoax
what’s the hex
where’s the wake
how’s the hicks
take my golden beam

Rob my locker
lick my rocks
leap my cock in school
Rack my lacks
lark my looks
jump right up my hole
Whore my door
beat my boor
eat my snake of fool
Craze my hair
bare my poor
asshole shorn of wool

say my oops
ope my shell
Bite my naked nut
Roll my bones
ring my bell
call my worm to sup
Pope my parts
Pop my pot
raise my daisy up
Poke my pap
pit my plum
let my gap be shut

—  Pull My Daisy

By Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Neal Cassady

taylorswiifts  asked:

What else is on your list?

well it’s a mix of things i have not read, things i would like to reread, and a good amount of YA literature that the students in the school i work at have on their summer reading lists- i like to read everything the kids are reading :)

crush - richard siken
the merchant of venice - shakespeare
into the wild - jon krakauer
stargirl - jerry spinelli
jeremy fink and the meaning of life - wendy mass
cracks - sheila kohler
percy jackson: sea of monsters - rick riordan
on the road - jack kerouac
cat’s eye - margaret atwood
the waves - virginia woolf
louise glück collected poems 1962-2012
angel catbird - margaret atwood
war & peace - leo tolstoy
brave new world - aldous huxley
slaughterhouse-five - kurt vonnegut
the little friend - donna tartt
dark places - gillian flynn
the romanov sisters - helen rappaport
alexander hamilton - ron chernow
the diary of anaïs nin (volume one)
the star-touched queen - roshani chokshi
frankenstein - mary shelley
in cold blood - truman capote

I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the 
huge shade of a Southern Pacific locomotive to look for the sunset over the box 
house hills and cry. Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, 
we thought the same thoughts of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed, surrounded 
by the gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery. The only water on the river 
mirrored the red sky, sun sank on top of final Frisco peaks, no fish in that stream, 
no hermit in those mounts, just ourselves rheumy-eyed and hung-over like old bums 
on the riverbank, tired and wily.
                                                          

Allen Ginsberg

                            
I have lots of things to teach you now, in case we ever meet, concerning the message that was transmitted to me under a pine tree in North Carolina on a cold winter moonlit night. It said that Nothing Ever Happened, so don’t worry. It’s all like a dream. Everything is ecstasy, inside. We just don’t know it because of our thinking-minds. But in our true blissful essence of mind is known that everything is alright forever and forever and forever.

Close your eyes, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, stop breathing for three seconds, listen to the silence inside the illusion of the world, and you will remember the lesson you forgot, which was taught in immense milky way soft cloud innumerable worlds long ago and not even at all. It is all one vast awakened thing. I call it the golden eternity. It is perfect. We were never really born, we will never really die.
—  Jack Kerouac.