These guys are like my mythological heroes. Gary Snyder met Jack Kerouac in San Francisco on the autumn equinox (Sept 23rd, 1955). Phil Whalen and Allen Ginsberg were along too. They all went out for a beer and then to a reading at Kenneth Rexroth's house. Gary had just spent the summer on a trail crew in the high Sierras; Jack had been living on a rooftop hut in the Roma district of Mexico City, writing "Mexico City Blues" while high on morphine.
Both were seeking, both were Buddhists (Gary remained one and Jack eventually flipped back into Catholicism), and both were writers. Gary, the more grounded personality, was able to integrate Buddhist truths into his life and make that faith the cornerstone of his world-view. Jack sought joy and inebriation and "ecstasy of mind" as he would say.
But this is a really sweet reminiscence by Gary and a touching portrayal of Jack's character, as Gary knew him. And Gary is not a naive guy.
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