I'm an architecture student in Chicago and this is how I procrastinate.
This is me: shynessisnice
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fuckyeahExistentialism

asideofstache: dirgni: eyesturnedskyward: First page of The Beatnik questionnaire. (via) Check out Gerard Malanga’s answers from 1960 here

asideofstache:

dirgni:

eyesturnedskyward:

First page of The Beatnik questionnaire.

(via)

Check out Gerard Malanga’s answers from 1960 here

There is the pleasurable orgasm, like a rising sales graph, and there is the unpleasurable orgasm, slumping ominously like the Dow Jones in 1929.

— William S. Burroughs (via jakebrichardson)

NY Times: Kerouac at Bat

bibliotheque:

Charles McGrath writes: Almost all his life Jack Kerouac had a hobby that even close friends and fellow-Beats like Allen Ginsberg and William S. Burroughs never knew about. He obsessively played a fantasy baseball game of his own invention.

fortruthisalwaysstrange: dirgni: Allen Ginsberg Protesting

fortruthisalwaysstrange:

dirgni:

Allen Ginsberg Protesting

(via asideofstache)

(via asideofstache)

My life is the street where I walk.

— Bob Dylan (via she-thinks) (via whokilled)

notesfromundervault: loudandsoft: Jack Kerouac interviewed in the late ’60s.

notesfromundervault:

loudandsoft:

Jack Kerouac interviewed in the late ’60s.

Robert Frank - The Americans celebrates the 50th anniversary of publication Frank in 1955 to travel across the United States and photograph its society at all strata. He took 28,000 shots. Only 83 of those were finally selected by him for publication in The Americans. Shortly after returning to New York in 1957, Frank met writer Jack Kerouac on the sidewalk outside a party and showed him the photographs from his travels. Kerouac immediately told Frank “Sure I can write something about these pictures,” and he contributed the introduction to the U.S. edition of The Americans.

Robert Frank - The Americans celebrates the 50th anniversary of publication

Frank in 1955 to travel across the United States and photograph its society at all strata. He took 28,000 shots. Only 83 of those were finally selected by him for publication in The Americans.

Shortly after returning to New York in 1957, Frank met writer Jack Kerouac on the sidewalk outside a party and showed him the photographs from his travels. Kerouac immediately told Frank “Sure I can write something about these pictures,” and he contributed the introduction to the U.S. edition of The Americans.

walkwhilereading: The Awakener by Helen Weaver. Published by City Lights Publishers “Helen Weaver’s book was a revelation to me! Although I was a young woman in the fifties, I was there, but I wasn’t there! This is the most graphic, honest, shameless, and moving documentary of what the newly liberated women in cities got up to—how they lived, loved, and created. Who knew? It is time they did! And here’s how.” - Carolyn Cassady

walkwhilereading:

The Awakener by Helen Weaver. Published by City Lights Publishers

“Helen Weaver’s book was a revelation to me! Although I was a young woman in the fifties, I was there, but I wasn’t there! This is the most graphic, honest, shameless, and moving documentary of what the newly liberated women in cities got up to—how they lived, loved, and created. Who knew? It is time they did! And here’s how.” - Carolyn Cassady

fortruthisalwaysstrange: (via wearytune)

fortruthisalwaysstrange:

(via wearytune)

One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.

—

Jack Kerouac (The Dharma Bums) (via shynessisnice)

I started reading this book…. damn lazynesss.

(via ivebeendegaussed)

anyonelsebutyou: ” I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion. ” — Jack Kerouac

anyonelsebutyou:

” I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion. ” — Jack Kerouac

mind-razorblade: “I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn’t know who I was — I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I’d never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn’t know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds.” - Jack Kerouac, On the Road

mind-razorblade:

“I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn’t know who I was — I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I’d never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn’t know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds.”

- Jack Kerouac, On the Road

As I grew older I became a drunk. Why? Because I like ecstasy of the mind. I’m a wretch. But I love, love.

— Jack Kerouac (via juicyjuice)

believe in the holy contour of life

— Jack Kerouac (via anotherfrightenedreflection)