living underground in the real world

all grown up and over the beats

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing but burn, burn, burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!'”
– Jack Kerouac

Whatever, dude.

I’m so over the whole adolescent On The Road junk. This quote guided my search for friends in high school and college, but driving home from yet another interminable meeting tonight I realized that I’m completely past it. Does it have something to do with being thirty? Here’s the truth:

“The only people for me are the productive ones, the ones mad to get shit done, mad to promptly respond to emails, mad to bring about nonviolent revolution, the ones who never bloviate in meetings about off-agenda topics but work, work, work like fabulous worker bees exploding like spiders across the stars and at the end of all the emailing, all the phone calls, all the general meetings and the steering committee meetings and the Get Out the Vote events and the fundraisers you see the viable third party/member-owned food co-op/revolution come into being and everybody goes ‘Awww!'”

Yeah, that’s my shit these days.

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