That was it. The article is good too.
Kerouac, who died in 1969 at the age of 47, may have eventually been done in by his own creation. He turned to alcohol, in part to deal with the stresses of fame, and never recovered.
My friend sent me this picture a few weeks ago. We were discussing the cult of genius. Why is it that so many seek refuge in bottle or drugs, and solitude, to then die alone in apartment rooms and boarding houses? Is that the fate of a great mind? I open the question to the litkickers.
Pathwise, thanks for finding the pic.