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Book of Sketches - Jack Kerouac [2]

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that caught his eye and that he wrote about became priceless. Because in the way that an artist like Picasso could see with his brush, Jack could see with his pen. He was able to capture the spirit of his time without making anything up. And as it came to us from nowhere it certainly was astounding how concrete it all is now. It is as if the only true picture of humanity we will ever have was given to us by Jack Kerouac. All else is false and dressed up. Only Jack and Vincent van Gogh told the inner truth.

— George Condo, November 2005

BOOK OF SKETCHES

JACK KEROUAC

Printed Exactly As They Were Written On the Little Pages in the Notebooks I Carried in My Breast Pocket 1952 Summer to 1954 December............

(Not Necessarily Chronological)

FIRST BOOK

Rocky Mt Aug. 7 ’52

Changed now to

dungaree shorts, gaudy

green sandals, blue vest

with white borders & a

little festive lovergirl ribbon

in her hair Carolyn prepares

the supper —

“I better go over there &

fix that lawnmower,” says

Paul standing in the kitchen

with LP at his thigh.

“Supper’ll be ready at

six.”

Glancing at his watch

Paul goes off - to his landlord

Jack up the road — a man his

age, of inherited wealth,

who spends all day in big

Easonburg walking around

or sitting in his vast brick

house (Jacky Lee’s father)

or walking down the road

to see his 2 new cows —

On the kitchen floor is

a pan of dog meal mixed

with milk & water but the

bird dog Bob isnt hungry,

just let out of the pen

he lays greedily sopping

up happy in-house hours

under the d.r. table — a

big affectionate dopey

beauty with great bony

snakehead & big brown eyes

& heartshaped mottled

ears falling like the locks

of a pretty girl do fall —

in the Fall a gliding phantom

in the pale fields.

Carolyn takes a pile

of dishes from the cupboard

& silverware from the

drawer & carries them

into the diningroom. Out of

the ref. she takes ready

to bake biscuit doughs &

unwraps them from their

cellophane, stuffs waste paper

in the corner bag that

sits in a wastebasket

out of sight — She

prepares the aluminum

silex for coffee — never

puts an extra scoop for

the pot — makes weak

American housewife coffee

— but who’s to

notice, the Prez. of the

Waldorf Astoria? — She

slams a frying pan on a

burner — singing “I hadnt

anyone till you & with

my lonely heart demanding

it, f-a-i-t-h must

have a hand in it — ”

mistaking “fate” — Out

comes the bacon & the

yellow plastic

basket of eggs — What’s

she going to make? Under

the faucet she cleans

garden fresh tomatos

from Mrs Harris’ —

She’s boiling potatos in a

pot — they’ve been there a

half hour — Thru her

little kitchen cupboard

window, framed like a

picture, see the old

redroofed flu cure barn

of the X farm — weary

gray wood in the eternities

of time — rickety poles

around it — the tobacco,

already picked from

the bottom a foot up,

pale & fieldsy before the

solemn backdrop of

that forest bush —

One intervening sad English

cone haystack — The

little children of the

Carolina suppertimes see

this & think: “And does

the forest need to eat?

In the night that’s

coming does the forest

know? Why is that dish

cloth hanging there so

still — & like the

forest — has no name

I know of — gloop — ”

Carolyn Blake is making

bacon & eggs & boiled

potatos for supper because

lately the family’s been

eating up breakfast

foods — just cereal & toast —

“Hm what pretty bacon,”

she says out loud. On

the radio now’s the

Lone Ranger. Lingering

statics clip & clop

amongst its William

Tell Overtures — a

rooster foolish crows —

Hand on hip, feet

crossed, casually, a cig

burning out in the ashtray,

she picks the bacon over

with a long cook fork.

“Hum hum hum” she hums.

Paul, having fixed the Jack

lawn mower, is in the yard

finishing the part of the lawn

last overlooked. The

deep rich fat grass lies in

serried heaps along the

trail of his machine

with the ditch, the road,

& the white road sign

“Easonburg” & yellow

“Stop” sign beyond — &

signs on a

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