Dear Raymi,
It’s late into the night and all I can think of doing is look up Jack Kerouac clips on youtube and sink down deep to jazz, Mass., and that sense of alone-time surrounding me everlastingly (of which case I know God Damn well that it won’t last long). Every day when I jump on the net to recover some type of history about Kerouac, I find all kinds of things. And somehow, I came across you.
I’m not sure whether you not you can help me. I’m not even sure as to why I am writing you in this kind of nature, but I thought that its something like this isn’t thats not at all too harmful. A simple message and maybe a provoking thought could inspire such circumstances, but as I was scrolling and clicking and searching, etc, I found some article that you had written and it seemed like AHH HA, there’s a connection between her and Kerouac. Is it true?
I keep thinking that Kerouac is some form of God that really showed me how to see the world for what it truly is and for what it wanted to be, I guess. The only thing I’m not sure of is when these feelings for Kerouac and his million words streaming through my head will end some day and for me to move on to some other author. But, I don’t think I can do that. I take walks around and through desolate streets and sidewalks and alleyways reading Kerouac. I’ve watched box trains slowly roll along rusty tracks and other modern zooming trains packed with wind and fury flying by as I passed the visions of Cody Pomeray.
When it comes down to another thought: How do you feel about him?
(am I making all of this up or should I continue with what I saw and what I wanted to ask you, about him, and maybe, about your life and your pictures…)
Sincerely,
Brandon
Yes it’s true. Don’t let prose make you go squirly. Live in the real world as often as you can and don’t drink yourself away like jack. Write as much as you like though, don’t get compulsive about it. Sounds like you are a bit. I am too, naturally. Anyway hey.
Dear Raymi,
I think it’s got me by the reins and there’s no holding back this time. Before I was wondering about his simplicity and maybe some abstract morality crawling out of his books somewhere, must have been youthful and careless as it was in the beginning, you know, reading On The Road as most people start to take hold of. And it was at that time, Hunter S. Thompson was in my views because of all the wild & crazy talk he had readers whiling within his prose, finding eventually that he somewhat despised Kerouac. I was offended by this slight remark. I don’t think he meant it. He just thought of him as a drifter I guess but afterwards, when it would seem like books to me were useless, graduating from college with a B.A. in Sociology and Anthropology, I was through with reading journals and articles and diving in for clips and sheets of notes piling on my dorm room desk. Except for when novels come falling out of a attic, amidst begrudged porn and surfing magazines and other travel books that tell you here and not there and not over there, this is the place to be when you die sort of feeling, Kerouac’s novel of On The Road flew right between my feet as my uncle was changing residences and cleaning out that attic. He told me that was his copy and I’de be MEZmerized when I would finish it. From that point on I couldn’t stop listening to jazz and floating seamlessly through his mind and other caricatures as if I were some kid again. I felt like everything else was completely out of focus when I read him. And you can say that because your older than me, of what it looks like anyways. Nonetheless, I won’t bother you on whatever personal history you have with Kerouac as far as the early days but I will tell you that I AM NOT a pervert. I am sincere. I am content. I am convoluted sometimes and it would feel absolutely absurd if I did like your pictures online but I don’t have time to keep writing you about that, no sir. It was up to you to post them and for people to see them, daily. I do have time write, but I think we should stay on topic.
Well, yes, Kerouac, oh you sweet man how can than be no other person. Damn is he good. Furthermore I should continue, but I’ll let you lead.
B.
i feel super pretentious talking about my relation. i get nasty emails and comments on the regular about it, accusing me of not actually being related. it’s rather annoying. yes i am older than you. you can like anything as much as you want in life but if it gets to a point where it’s not going anywhere monetarily, time to move on. keep it as a hobby, i dunno. i stayed up pretty late last night so i don’t really know what to say at this juncture. i just know it’s hard to finish books because of modern day technology, i compulsively write and release daily and i definitely drink too much.
i also think all this social media madness is going to end in amazing flames. i know people take it seriously but really, it should be called smoke and mirrors week. it’s important to big companies to please them about what this such and such internet star is up to but really the people we should be caring about pleasing is the little people, the real people, the people who read those fucking blogs everyday and maybe have a discussion about why we read these blogs everyday or care.
it looks like this:
big company + free hamburger + social media stooge = nobody cares
do you honestly care about someone’s useless noise on twitter all day long? who is actually being influential here? nobody. james gave me great advice yesterday, never believe your own hype. he asked me if i believed mine and i said yes but humble me said no. yeah it’s great having my hair did and blowing money on outfits i won’t care about in a month but we know there is substance here. i puncture those advertorial posts (that i do in my own raymi flare, staying true to my racy edgy nature) with lots of self-indulgent blogging. i keep it true. i am only trying hard to please myself here and i think that shows. i maintain meaningful relationships with virtual strangers via email for years, i get no monetary value out of that, i do it because i honestly care about such and such loner weirdo writing me during a panic attack from neptune. THAT is how i made myself. i built a following based on merit and exposing my journey, not on free perfume samples and gum marketed to 20 year old retards with no money. i don’t care how many people i offend, i offend many people daily and that takes bravery. i know i piss off everybody. suck it up kids. if you’re so fly, then prove it, own it. the same circle jerk spotlight presently on social media is the exact same attention blogging received in its first wake of popularity, then it fizzled and the majority packed it in cos they realized it took actual time and work to blog. you guys weren’t around for that. the frenzy of twitter ladder climbing is a bit desperate and it’s pissing people off because we are tired of pretending to care and i am tired of talking shit about it and hearing shit about it i would rather be discussing more important things like how nice i might look in a tennis outfit in the countryside.
people make fun of twitter people lots. yep. tons. oh you’re at taco bell right now this is amazing news thank you for sharing. many articles have been written about twitter dismantling it. yet if you stand out from the pack there’s this genuine fear of being unfollowed. it’s a stab in the heart to be unfollowed, are there apps that you find out right away if that happens? does the world stop?
anyway i am just totally being smug from my high horse because it’s not necessary for me as an artist to play along with any of these people, though somewhat is, yet cos i come from the cool kid set i can yank on their pigtails and make fun of them. which i do and will only continue to do more so in the future even if they get golden cadillac escalades i’ll still be here, laughing at them. like the fat girl who gets hot and confronts the bully on jenny jones and he’s now a disgusting troll, she, a perfect ten. she wants vindication and he says to her something like because of me you became hot or you’re still a nerd. you may get fancy nice things but those things don’t pay bills and this queen bee doesn’t do shit fo’ free. dragging your ass around to nerd events where they get you trashed and you end up a used-up party face.
ten years guy.
ok wait this is the part where i cancel everything out i said with a winky emoticon face.
forgive me. i’ve been up all night talking courtney’s face off (who doesnt like to be touched so i squeezed her and hugged her as many times possible to make her uncomfortable) the eve of a charity date auction where i need to look as spring chicken as possible and i wrote a beautiful self-absorbed speech manifesto about why i am the best person to bid on. i have the longest q&a response because i took the time to do it, no one else put that much effort into it, half the contestants (haha contestants? this is a game show now?) didn’t even bother, they’re too busy tweeting about how awesome they are i guess. the point is, do you want to go on a date with me or not? i am a professional dater. i know where to go, what to eat, how to dress, how to be. i am smooth. please come and watch the whole trainwreck unfold tonight and bring your wallet.
the title of this post is something malcolm said to me last night about how i was at mitzi’s last week and did i notice the big hair of this famous chick sitting across the bar from me. i said no i didn’t even notice her at all and he’s like how could you not? i said i dunno, i only look at girls i feel threatened by. sorry but if you don’t bring it you just fade into the background for me. there are many wallflower types out there and you meet them and then you have no recollection of it and then it hurts their feelings. i’m sorry but i have TEN YEARS of emails, random chats, and events to remember, how dare you make me feel bad not remembering who you are wearing that boring bland sweater like that. get me? i also can’t see very well at night in dark bars. anyway, if you catch me looking at you it’s cos you’re hot. or, you stared at me first cos you think i am hot and then therefore become interesting to me because you noticed the shiny thing in the room, this also makes you smart, not necessarily hot though. by the way, hot people are smarter than ugly people. just going to throw that out there. maintaining beauty is a skill, it’s a usable business resource, ace in the sleeve. you are an idiot if you think looks don’t mean anything and that we’re all pretty on the inside. fuck that, tell your kids right now to start giving a shit about appearance otherwise you’re going to have to deal with inferiority complexes forever.
wow this post just keeps on going eh.
what else.
oh right this is how i am related to jack kerouac i made a family tree for malcolm because he was blowing his load about it and by the way look at how i write (not penmanship, prose) it’s a retarded mess just like kerouac. i don’t keep bringing it up, people bring it up to me! when you get mega pageviews daily one of those readers is gonna send you nerdmail so please give me a break and leave me alone about it (the kerouac thing, it’s called relevance). how sad is it that the way people deal with life is anonymously harassing others on the internet? brilliant.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5434095990/
i forgot to draw the line from my papa (grandpa) to jack.
and this is an example of what my texts look like right now thanks to my e button.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5434096130/in/photostream/
time to make coffee two. i love starbucks instant coffee packets. i want to be sponsored by starbucks. i can’t believe i am turning into a stepford wife lunatic who drinks starbucks maybe next i’ll get a little dog and die of hypocrisy.
smoke ‘n mirrors right?
