Before the fury of ten thousand English majors descends upon me.

Tom (and everyone else reading this):

I haven't actually read Kerouac, so saying I hate him or for that matter, the work for which he is known is...premature. There are certainly fans of his work I have a certain amount of loathing for. Perhaps I flatter myself by saying I think I'd get along with him. At least in the abstract. It's the aesthetic of his fan base that irks me. (Did I really use irks? I never use irks, at least when writing.)


I find it hard to believe that the internet is bad for ideas. Really. If we're really mourning the loss of gatekeepers, then that's a pity party I never attended. This stab at objectivity from media outlets is horribly recent in the timeline of information dissemination. Christ, only until recently were events written down to be reviewed, consumed and hopefully understood by people not in the social elite. So now that information can come from someone other than the king and the king's opposition and now that there are more conduits for it, becoming infitessimally more specialized and growing exponentially in number, the idea of going backwards, towards a mentality that worked a couple decades ago seems silly.


Will it take more digging to find what you believe to be an accruate report and criticism of events? Yes. But I'd rather have more choices, ones which are meaningful in terms of editorial slant than fewer that are variations on a theme.

Like Zach, I am watching summer plummet to the earth, and am waiting the inevitably rising of her more colder, but no less colorful relative, fall. Fuck. What am I saying? School starts soon, and brings with it a practicular set of worries and tribulations as opposed to others. (See: No really, are we letting him into the house? and will I ever get my work done, oh God, oh God, vs. oh God oh God, I need to get a job and No really, can't I stay out till 3 am with people you guys don't know?)

See you soon, space cowboy.