Portable Empire on the Road- Searching for the Beats

We left a rainy Wimberley, Texas this morning and the rain kept us company all the way to Fort Stockton, Texas.

We’re going to keep driving West until we find the sun. And the Beats. Specifically Jack Kerouac.

Now, I know old Jack has gone to the land where old drunks go when they die. In his old age, the booze got him. He looked like he was in his 80’s, and walked like old men walk. Here’s the scary part: he was eight years younger than I am now when he died.

And, yes. I’m feeling just fine.

I’ve often wondered if living as intensely as he did when he was young just wear him out? Did splashing his soul on endless rolls of paper just deplete the life force? Obviously, it wasn’t the booze and drugs. How would you explain Keith Richards?

My theory, and I’m not going to test it myself, is that he lived a lifetime before he was thirty. When he was young, and writing “On the Road,” “The Dharma Bums,” “The Subterraneans,” “Dr. Sax,” and so on and so on and on and on and on, the man could write like Charley Parker played the saxophone. He wrote like a mad zen poet on crank, which was occasionally the case. Maybe when you write so hard you bleed, and live hard so you’ve got something to write about, eventually there’s just nothing left. Just an old drunk, trying to keep the hippies off his lawn.

When I read Kerouac, I want to pack a light bag, get in the car, and head for the road.

That’s exactly what I’m doing.

I’ve appointed Kerouac as my guiding star that I’m going to follow while I finish my new book. This book has kicked my ass. It’s bigger than I am, and it’s got me completely intimidated. Well, one thing we know (courtesy of one of my other guiding stars, Douglas Adams) is that if you want something other than the obvious to happen you have to DO something other than the obvious.

Obviously, I could sit in my office and keep not writing the book. Not-obviously, I can grab my girl, get in the 4Runner, and head to Big Sur. I want to watch the waves hit the shore and meditate at a Zen monastery. I want to buy a book at the City Lights bookstore, and say hi to Lawrence Ferlenghetti. I want to get drunk and wander the streets while be-bop jazz massages my brain out its rut. If San Francisco is light on be-bop, I’ve got my iPod. I’m ready to go.

I don’t intend to bleed, but if living life to the fullest is what it takes to birth this book, then bring on the cheap tokay and point my car West.

So, greetings from Fort Stockton, Texas. Below is a video of day 1.

Of course, my Portable Empire is with me. On the road, the iPad keeps me in touch with my people. Facebook, twitter, emails, news. Tonight, after a half hour in a blessed hot tub, I did my “business:” coaching forum, customer service, networking. My office fits in a black nylon backpack.

Tomorrow, we’re driving to Albuquerque, NM. I’ve never been. I hear it’s nice. Stay tuned for pics, video, and stories from the road. And when I find Jack, I’ll interview him.