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

It's strange that in a later revery I imagined myself walking across a
field to find the strange gang of pilgrims in Arkansas and Dave Wain was
sitting there saying "Shhh, He's sleeping, " "He" being Joey and all the
disciples are following him on a march to New York after which they expect
to keep going walking on water to the other shore - But of course (in my
revery even) I scoff and don't believe it (a kind of story daydreaming I
often do) but in the morning when I look into Joey Rosenberg's eyes I
instantly realize it IS Him, Jesus, because anyone (according to the rules
of my revery) who looks into those eyes is instantly convinced and converted
- So the revery continues into a long farfetched story ending with thinking
IBM machines trying to destroy this "Second Coming" etc. (but also, in
reality, a few months later I threw away his shoes in the ashcan back home
because I felt they had brought me bad luck and wishing I'd kept my blue
sneakers with the little holes in the toes! ) So anyway we get Joey and Ron
Blake who's always following Dave and go off to see Monsanto at the store,
our usual ritual, then across the corner to Mike's Place where we start off
the 10 A. M. with food, drink and a few games of pool at the tables along
the bar - Joey winning the game and a stranger poolshark you never saw with
his long Biblical hair bending to slide the cue stick smoothly through
completely professionally competent fingerstance and smashing home long
straight drives, like seeing Jesus shoot pool of course - And meanwhile all
the food these poor starved kids all three of them do pack in and eat! -
It's not every day they're with a drunken novelist with hundreds of dollars
to splurge on them, they order everything, spaghetti, follow that up with
Jumbo Hamburgers, follow that up with ice cream and pie and puddings, Dave
Wain has a huge appetite anyway but adds Manhattans and Martinis to the side
of his plate - I'm just wailing away on my old fatal double bourbons and
gingerale and I'll be sorry in a few days. Any drinker knows how the process
works: the first day you get drunk is okay, the morning after means a big
head but so you can kill that easy with a few more drinks and a meal, but if
you pass up the meal and go on to another night's drunk, and wake up to keep
the toot going, and continue on to the fourth day, there'll come one day
when the drinks wont take effect because you're chemically overloaded and
you'll have to sleep it off but cant sleep any more because it was alcohol
itself that made you sleep those last five nights, so delirium sets in -
Sleeplessness, sweat, trembling, a groaning feeling of weakness where your
arms are numb and useless, nightmares, (nightmares of death)... well,
there's more of that up later.
About noon which is now the peak of a golden blurry new day for me we
pick up Dave's girl Romana Swartz a big Rumanian monster beauty of some kind
(I mean with big purple eyes and very tall and big but Mae West big), Dave
whispers in my ear "You oughta see her walking around that Zen-East House in
those purple panties of hers, nothing else on, there's one married guy lives
there who goes crazy every time she goes down the hall tho I dont blame him,
would you? she's not trying to entice him or anybody she's just a nudist,
she believe in nudism and bygod she's going to practice it! " (the Zen-East
house being another sort of boardinghouse but this one for all kinds of
married people and single and some small bohemian type families all races
studying Subud or something, I never was there) - She's a big beautiful
brunette anyway in the line of taste you might attribute to every slaky