My friends and I used to have this game called Star Wars=Beats. Over drinks at our favorite bar one night, we laid out the rules. Assign each major player of the Beat Generation literary pantheon to their corresponding Star Wars character. This would be decided by taking in to consideration not just personality traits and character, but also their relation to everyone else around them.
For example we, decided that William Burroughs would be Obi Wan Kenobi; he was older, wiser and a valuable teacher to the younger generation.
Jack Kerouac equals Han Solo. Allen Ginsberg fills the role of Luke Skywalker (though some adamantly argued that he should be Leia).
Neal Cassady is Chewbecca, because: 1. He didn't say (or at least publish) that much and 2. He proved to be of rather indispensable value to Han/Kerouac.
Gregory Corso is C-3PO, David Amram is R2-D2, William Carlos Williams is Yoda and Leroi Jones is Lando Calrissian simply because they were both the only black people to be closely involved. The Ewoks equaled hippies because they were 1. initially cute but eventually annoying, 2. a hopeless derailment from what the fans considered to be the true heart of the saga and 3. probably smelled bad.
We had just moved on to the prequels and were, rather heatedly, deciding whether the characters of the prequels should count for the generation of writers that came after the beats (because the prequels did come out much later than the original saga), or if they should be listed with those from a generation before Kerouac and company (because, of course, the prequels were set before the trilogy) when my brother interrupted our discussion.
"Guys, have you seriously not noticed those girls right over there?" My brother asked, having resented his decision to go out with us for hours now. "I have no idea why, but there are actually cute women over there who are actually checking you nerds out, but you are too busy with your heads up your asses talking about dead writers and some stupid space movie to even notice."
"I swear to God, you're all going to die virgins." he sighed as he stumbled towards the bathroom.
We looked at each other blankly for some unknown space of time.
"Doby Gillis would have to Jar-Jar" one of us said, as we continued to talk late into the night.
3:45 a.m. - 2011-10-20
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