kerouac says

oh, you guys. you guys.

not long after i first met the monkey, i told him that one day peter jennings was going to die, and no one would understand why i was so sad.

he seemed like the best of everything. the best of smart, the best of handsome, the best of talking, the best of sincerity, the best of certitude. i watched the broadcast tribute in his honor tonight--remember about me being a nostalgic fart?--and couldn't believe how much i'd missed of what he'd had to say. like, all of the seventies. i remember coming home from camping on september thirteenth, and seeing his tired, slightly grey face. i was trying to think of who i think he's like, who has the same role in my mind, and all i could come up with were jon stewart and vaclav havel. he was--or his persona + his face, which was what you got on tv, i guess--something that made me feel okay about living here and living now. and he was a constant. a constant good.

i know it's altogether shlocky, but i thought he was amazing and i am so sad that he's gone.