"Джек Керуак. Big Sur (engl)" - читать интересную книгу автора

thinner than he used to be in our madder Dharma Bum days of five years ago,
a little gaunt in fact, but still the same old Ben who stays up late at
night chuckling over the Lankavatara Scripture and writing poems about
raindrops - And he knows me very well, he knows I'll get drunk tonight and
for weeks on end just on general principles and that a day will come in a
few weeks when I'll be so exhausted I wont be able to talk to anybody and
he'll come and visit me and just silently at my side be puffing his pipe, as
I sleep - The kind of guy he is - I trying to explain about Tyke to him
but some people are cat lovers and some ain't, tho Ben always has a little
kitty around his pad - His pad usually has a straw rug on the floor, with a
pillow "pon which he sits crosslegged by a smoking teapot, his bookshelves
full of Stein and Pound and Wallace Stevens - A strange quiet poet who was
only beginning to be recognized as a big rosy secret sage (one of his lines
"When I leave town all my friends go back on the sauce') - And I'm on my
way to the sauce right now. Because anyway old Dave Wain is back and Dave I
can see him rubbing his hands in anticipation of another big wild binge with
me like we had the year before when he drove me back to New York from the
west coast, with George Baso the little Japanese Zen master hepcat sitting
crosslegged on the back mattress of Dave's jeepster (Willie the Jeep), a
terrific trip through Las Vegas, St Louis, stopping off at expensive motels
and drinking nothing but the best Scotch out of the bottle all the way -
And what better way to go back to New York, I could have blown 190 dollars
on an airplane - And Dave's never met the great Cody and will be looking
forward to that - So me and Ben leave the park and slowly walk to the bar
on Columbus Street and I order my first double bourbon and gingerale. The
lights are twinkling on outside in that fantastic toy street, I can feel the
joy rise in my soul - I now remember
Big Sur with a clear piercing love and agony and even the death of Tyke
fits in with everything but I don't realize the enormity of what's yet to
come - We call up Dave Wain who's back from Reno and he comes blattin
downto the bar in his jeepster driving that marvelous way he does (once he
was a cab-driver) talking all the time and never making a mistake, in fact
as good a driver as Cody altho I cant imagine anybody being that good and
asked Cody about it the next day - But old jealous drivers always point out
faults and complain, "Ah well that Dave Wain of yours doesnt take his curves
right, he eases up and sometimes even pokes the brake a little instead of
just ridin that old curve around on increased power, man you gotta work
those curves" - Obvious at this time now, by the way and parenthetically,
that there's so much to tell about the fateful following three weeks it's
hardly possible to find anyplace to begin. Like life, actually - And how
multiple it all is! - "And what happened to little old George Baso, boy? "
- "Little old George Baso is probably dyin of TB in a hospital outside
Tulare" - "Gee, Dave, we gotta go see him" - "Yessir, let's do that
tomorrow" - As usual Dave has no money whatever but that doesn't bother me
at all, I've got plenty, I go out the following day and cash 500 dollars
worth of travelers checks just so's me and old Dave can really have a good
time... Dave likes good food and drink and so do I... But he's got this
young kid he brought back from Reno called Ron Blake who is a goodlooking
teenager with blond hair who wants to be a sensational new Chet Baker singer
and comes on with that tiresome hipster approach that was natural five or