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July 25, 2006



A buddy and I made the trip to Lowell years back for some kind of Kerouac festival they were having. The original scroll was not there then but Ginsberg was. We were staying in the same hotel and everywhere Ginsberg went a cadre of young hipsters followed. They were an honest to goodness raver/poet/artist/bum entourage. It was a little creepy to tell the truth. Most of them couldn't have been older that 18. Course I myself couldn't have been much older than 20. My friend and I just couldn't bring ourselves to get behind that bearded ol' pied-piper though.

Overall, if I'm being totally honest, the place was a drag. Did we get drunk on cheap wine? Yes. Did we write feverishly in our journals? Sure. Did we get high? Probably. But the fact remains Lowell is one of those old towns whose productive glory days are LONG behind it, living as it were off the fumes of its most famous resident, and in as much it was kind of depressing. If it rains while your there you might actually curl up and die in a corner.

But hell, I was a kid. Maybe its more fun as an adult... or less. With Ginsberg gone you at least don't have to worry about him luring your child into some murky Beat basement to smoke "tea" and get their bottoms pinched.

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