Still on my Kerouac Kick and i'm done with the biography that showed his true side
a racist, an alcoholic, a haunted homo, a hot boy, a womanizer, a pathetic guy,
a god (yes still), a sad, sad, sad man who never got the chance to love his lover back
because it was the 40's/50's/60's even and man, you just didn't do that kind of shit.
unless you were strong.
still the black headed writer was a force
and i am intrigued beyond belief
i know a lot of his secrets.
He kept a "sex list" where he would list every man and woman he had slept with along with the number of times he had slept with them...
this list included fame whore Allen Ginsberg, junkie William Burroughs, fucked up Neal Cassady, beauty Diane DiPrima, and even -yes even a quiet, quick "frisk" in the bathroom with the brilliant Salvador Dali.
Kerouac had his lovers-and i'm talking possibly even in the hundred(s)...
but then after all the sex in the 40's and 50's
he stopped for a brief time to live on some mountains where he even refrained from masturbating so that he could find his inner "self", his "buddha"...
while dreaming of the Dharma, he wrote some books on the Dharma
but then fell off the "enlightenment" wagon
and then became a Republican
who wore boring tweed suits and coffee stained ties.
He believed in the war, in racism, and that Jews should be murdered.
And all this bad stuff about him
does not make me like him any less.
I don't know exactly why
but I always have to factor in the era that he lived in...
it was a fucked up time.
But I'm not making any excuses for him-
he could have been a clean, radical
who believed in freedom, free love, and was antiantianti
but instead he despised the Hippie Generation and even loathed the Beat Generation
he was jaded fellow
who's books took often 5,6,7,8,9, even 10 + years to be published.
By the time "On the Road" was published in 1957,
he hated his own ideals.