27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness

28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better

– Jack Kerouac, Belief & Technique for Modern Prose

I generally find Kerouac’s “spontaneous prose” too indulgent to trudge through–it gives me a headache and takes me forever to decipher. I much prefer his poetry. But I’m fully capable of self-indulgence in his prose techniques! Haha. Tonight’s result:

all I want is everything, to snatch and catch and grab and squeeze all of human experience, everything there is, the highest highs and lowest lows, the deepest of emotions and oceans of love and hate and pain and peace and tragedy and ecstasy and madness – especially the madness – and oh the LAUGHTER, and capture it, hold it for a moment in the palm of my hand, in a fierce orb of pure life
and then RELEASE it.
unchain unbind the tiny microcosmic cosmic blast and watch in slow motion as the most dangerous fearsome weapon and greatest most powerful healer expands across the universe in an unstoppable unreasonable irrational force beyond all reckoning
flowing like lava, a nuclear holocaust flattening, washing over everything in its path but killing nothing and everything at once blanketed in whiteness icier than snow and warm in its grasp, not wrath, but true clarity
exposing the distance between us, the mere inches centimeters millimeters that feel like miles and the darkness that exists in the in between that pushes us apart like electromagnets fueled by the ungovernable blinding blackness in which it lives no exists like a parasite feeding off our doubt and pain and hunger
our hunger to devour, to express, as we starve desire yearn for everything contained in the LIFE released in that moment and chase it down like it’s the only thing that can save us and maybe it is, maybe that’s all that matters is the race, the chase, the pursuit that ensues when we awake and see and realize that what we feel is real RIGHT NOW and even when tomorrow comes and nothing is real any more, it doesn’t matter, so long as we keep on fighting the good fight in the neverending struggle that consumes us
and then time resumes and that fleeting life vision vanishes, the ephemera become phantasms and disappear in a flash, but liberated I saw it with my own mind’s eye, reflected in your eyes, because all I want is everything and everything is you is me is us is one is all. right now. forever.

2 thoughts on “27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness

  1. Chris says:

    Hey Corey!

    I haven’t read anything you’ve written in a while and am looking through all of this. Looks good!! I vaguely remember saying something like that about Kerouac too, but I thought you liked his prose?

    I hope you’re well.


  2. koreyo19 says:

    No, I couldn’t even get through On the Road, I was so disappointed in myself. I’m going to try it again some time though, that and The Dharma Bums. I really dig his poetry though, I carry ‘Pomes All Sizes’ around with me sometimes and I love ‘Mexico City Blues.’ And I found a collection of his journal entries a while ago that I really liked because they were shorter – easier to get through, and a bit more explicit in their points.


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