remembering the death of jack kerouac…

Bloated, reactionary and guileless, his was a painful and undignified death, brought on my too much drink and dissolute living, played out in the presence of the mother whose apron strings he couldn’t seem to cut, and the wife who didn’t understand him. Venerated by his fans and dismissed by many critics… Kerouac has divided opinion as to his literary merit since his ungainly demise. But has his time finally come round again? (via)