Book of Sketches - Jack Kerouac [19]
too) — I prayed to be
saved — a man carrying
a carseat load of dead
side beef (smell of
death) saved me —
my meaty dumb bones
— & carried me zipping
to Smith Center —
wrecked his car Feb. 29!
nice old fella — (on 28!)
I know the joy those
little girls’ll remember,
in Prairie View with their
mother — yes I do —
And that cunt’s tall
grandfather — does
my mother think I
dont know those
things? —
Nobody cares —
How can they care
when they dont know?!
— At Smith Center a
ride to a country junction
from a farmer hero
straight profile with
little blond son —
at ice cream stand, the
mother said to her son
“Dont hang around with
him” & I recognized her
face & she mine — mad —
but I got a ride to
(this was off Agra) —
to doomed Phillipsburg
from carload of kids driv
by Marine ex & wife —
Okie — on I go with
dignified father & son
to that lonely hole
on a hill where I
think I die — 2 hours,
no rides, zoom, sun
going down, despair,
— Prairie View in
truck — but later —
I walked in with seabag —
Old falsefront western
wood stores, dirt, or tarred
gravel sandy road Main
Street, cars crunch over
majestically, on review on
Sat. nites — but not a
soul in sight, I’m going
down over prairie hollow
of trees bloodred, birds
thrashing in trees, —
I go to Public Telephone
little old white house,
woman long calls Neal
for me (San Jose), he’s
not home — her husband
in long overalls was
once farmer, gives me
hamburg sandwich huge,
says (& also huge
glass water) — “A man
dont know what to do
anyway.” — Sun goes
down, I wait, — dark,
Prairie Viewers come round
for Satnite, men sit in
front gen’l hardware, some
on ground, talk soft —
little kids hurry to
church suppers or whatever,
mothers — sodafountain
opens, I sit, watch happy
mother & little Gaby Nashua
joy girls — ate my heart —
& crazy castrated lunatic
Wellington chain smoking
stuttering smelling somehow
sweet & open air talks
to me — Ah — “Born
same date & year as
A G Bell a great
intelligent” — “hmph,
a Swede, he’s a Hollander,
there’s Mr. So and so,
barn burned down in ’49”
etc. — Pushes hat back,
wild hair brow pasted, mad,
somehow Fitz, I like
him, he’s intelligent —
“Kansas City was in
street 2 nights — went
to hotel — need 55¢cut
says man — next night,
need 75¢ says man —
okay, — not got it —
pushes me on left shoulder —
out” — “Dont work
any more since my
headaches started” — “Old
Mr Jones lived to be
98 — died a
mile north of that
water tower — couldnt climb
it tho, guess he was too
old — he was a Hollander
too” — Farmers: “Otto
is it? Hello Otto!” yells
Wellington — He’s sensitive
— listens when you talk,
jerks to hear & reply —
We cross street, longpants
niceman driving to six
miles east Norton — Meanwhile
Old Justin’s sending
me $12 Norton — goodbye
— they (longpants &
thin heroboy of Kansas
but sad & attentive) drive
me to hill of Western Nite
— hail down stationwagon
bein whaled at 85 by
wild cunt — fixed me
a ride as only farmer
could — man in car
says “Working late aint
ya?” — (harvest he
thinks) I get out
car — “Thank you sir —
and madame.” Forced
on them — Go to
depot, agent off duty,
raging mad I tear up
handful of folders &
hurl them screaming
across Rock Island tracks
to where sad cows being
waybilled to Santa Fe
moo — I go to Hotel
Kent, get a room, promise
pay morning (first I
rush for wine, Gallo port)
— back — waterf ountain,
grocery store, man
wallet — hotel room hot
— windows — shower
no handles — curse —
dancing below — 5 shots
wine — sleep — cold
in Fall morn — up —
wipe wine from things —
depot — joy of
dark shadow morn on
RR tracks etc. — rush
to WU — back (water
fountain) — cash hotel —
Melroy Cafe huge
bkfast. — go — waitress —
read paper hurricane,
Faulkner crash airshow
“Please keep away —
for Gods sake keep
away” — bus at 5:30!
— I hitch! —
Cursing half hour, deciding
never to hitch
again, to end On The
Road (pure hitching)
with malediction gainst
America — a sunny
funeral