K Is For Kerouac

Keroac, with cat (credit unknown to me)Jack Kerouac was one of my favorite authors for years. Technically, he still is. But at my age its hard to keep romanticizing a guy who had as many problem and as much baggage as Kerouac did. I don’t think I’ve actually read any Kerouac in a good 15 years, and that’s probably a shame and something I should correct. But there’s only so much time in the day. I’m better off keeping my memories and using the spirit of Kerouac as a prod to keep myself writing and living the life I want to than I am revisiting a bunch of books that I might find I don’t enjoy anymore.

The one connection I still feel like I maintain with Kerouac is our mutual love of rich & imaginary baseball worlds. I alluded to this earlier (in the post on baseball proper, not the one on imaginary baseball). If you’re not familiar with Kerouac’s baseball game (and the obsessive records he kept of it), you should probably google it. It’s absolutely riveting stuff (if you’re the sort to be riveted by such things) and tells more about the author than – possibly – anything he ever wrote or was written about him.

Actually, I’m lying. There’s one other connection I still share w/ Jack. I, too, love cats. I just don’t have any anymore because I live with birds. No offense to the birds, but I do miss having a cat around.

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