they often suffer a spell of turbulent craziness, it strikes me. Out of all Kerouac’s books, his breakdown narrative, Big Sur cuts deepest. All that was rational, all those invisible threads tethering you to sanity, are hacked away when fame and money rush in. You can walk away from the little obligations and resentments of an obscure life, the shopping to carry in, tedious arrangements, the phone never ringing, to flood your days with new pursuits. They won’t mean anything more, in fact, there’s a good chance that you’ll leave a lot of what was profound in your life behind – but you have to evolve. The famous go through the transition churn of making it for a year or two and then emerge, into their different life. And even if they cling to the invisible threads, their identity has to change. For most of us, the ride in a limo is a giggle, a mask, a dress-up game. But for the famous, it’s who they are and if they try to mock it, those that stare will call them false.
