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

But there's old Cody in the livingroom of his fine ranchito home sittin
over his chess set pondering a problem and right by the fresh woodfire in
the fireplace his wife's set out because she knows I love fireplaces - She
a good friend of mine too... The kids are sleeping in the back, it's about
eleven, and good old Cody shakes my hand again - Havent seen him for
several years because mainly he's just spent two years in San Quentin on a
stupid charge of possession of marijuana... He was on his way to work on the
railroad one night and was short on time and his driving license had been
already revoked for speeding so he saw two bearded bluejeaned beatniks
parked, asked them to trade a quick ride to work at the railroad station for
two sticks of tea, they complied and arrested him - They were disguised
policemen... For this great crime he spent two years in San Quentin in the
same cell with a murderous gunman - His job was sweeping out the cotton
mill room - I expect him to be all bitter and out of his head because of
this but strangely and magnificently he's become quieter, more radiant, more
patient, manly, more friendly even - And tho the wild frenzies of his old
road days with me have banked down he still has the same taut eager face and
supple muscles and looks like he's ready to go anytime - But actually loves
his home (paid for by railroad insurance when he broke his leg trying to
stop a boxcar from crashing), loves his wife in a way tho they fight some,
loves his kids and especially his little son Timmy John partly named after
me - Poor old, good old Cody sitting there with his chess set, wants
immediately to challenge somebody to a chess game but only has an hour to
talk to us before he goes to work supporting the family by rushing out and
pushing his Nash Rambler down the quiet Los Gatos suburb street, jumping in,
starting the motor, in fact his only complaint is that the Nash wont start
without a push - No bitter complaints about society whatever from this
grand and ideal man who really loves me moreover as if I deserved it, but
I'm bursting to explain everything to him, not even Big Sur but the past
several years, but there's no chance with everybody yakking - And in fact I
can see in Cody's eyes that he can see in my own eyes the regret we both
feel that recently we haven't had chances to talk whatever, like we used to
do driving across America and back in the old road days, too many people now
want to talk to us and tell us their stories, we've been hemmed in and
surrounded and outnumbered - The circle's closed in on the old heroes of
the night - But he says "However you guys, come on down round "bout one
when the boss leaves and watch me work and keep me company awhile before you
go back to the City" - I can see Dave Wain really loves him at once, and
Stanley Popovich too who's come along on this trip just to meet the fabled
"Dean Moriarty" - The name I give Cody in "On the Road" - But O, it breaks
my heart to see he's lost his beloved job on the railroad and after all the
seniority he'd piled up since 1948 and now is reduced to tire recapping and
dreary parole visits - All for two stick of wild loco weed that grows by
itself in Texas because God wanted it - And there over the bookshelf is the
old photo of me and Cody arm in arm in the early days on a sunny street - I
rush to explain to Cody what happened the year before when his religious
advisor at the prison had invited me to come to San Quentin to lecture the
religious class - Dave Wain was supposed to drive me and wait outside the
prison walls as I'd go in there alone, probably with a pepup nip bottle
hidden in my coat (I hoped) and I'd be led by big guards to the lecture room