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

- "Well I'll be damned" he keeps saying as he sees those bluffs and cliffs
and hanging vines and dead trees, "you mean to tell me you ben alone here
for three weeks, why I wouldn't dare that... must be awful at night
... looka that old mule down there... man, dig the redwood country way
back in... reminds me of old Colorady b'god when I used to steal a car every
day and drive out to hills like this with a fresh little high school
sumptin" - "Yum Yum, " says Dave Wain emphatically turning that big goofy
look to us from his driving wheel with his big mad feverish shining eyes
full of yumyum and yabyum too - "S'matter with you boys not making
extensive plans to bring a bevy of schoolgirls down there to wile away our
conversation pieces thar" says Cody real relaxed and talking sadly. Behind
us the Monsanto jeepster follows doggedly - Passing thru Monterey Monsanto
has already called PatMcLear, staying for the summer with wife and kid in
Santa Cruz, McLear with his own jeepster is following us a few miles down
the highway - It's a big Big Sur day.
We wheel downhill to cross the creek and at the corral fence I proudly
get out to officially open the gate and let the cars through We go bumping
down the two-rutted lane to the cabin and park My heart sinks to see the
cabin. To see the cabin so sad and almost human waiting there for me as if
forever, to hear my little neat gurgling creek resuming its song just for
me, to see the very same bluejays still waiting in the tree for me and maybe
mad at me now they see I'm back because I havent been there to lay out their
Cherios along the porch rail every blessed morning- And in fact first thing
I do is rush inside and get them some food and lay it out - But so many
people around now they're afraid to try it.
Monsanto all decked out in his old clothes and looking forward to a
wine and talkfest weekend in his pleasant cabin takes the big sweet axe down
from the wall nails and goes out and starts hammering at a huge log - In
fact it's really a half of a tree that fell there years ago and's been
hammered at intermittently but now he's bound he's going to crack it in half
and again in half so we can then start splitting it down the middle for huge
bonfire type logs - Meanwhile little Arthur Ma who never goes anywhere
without his drawing paper and his Yellowjack felt tip pencils is already
seated in my chair on the porch (wearing my hat now too) drawing one of his
interminable pictures, he'll do twenty-five a day and twenty-five the next
day too - He'll talk and go on drawing - He has felt tips of all colors,
red, blue, yellow, green, black, he draws marvelous subconscious glurbs and
can also do excellent objective scenes or anything he wants on to
cartoons... Dave is taking my rucksack and his rucksack out of Willie and
throwing them into the cabin, Ben Fagan is wandering around near the creek
puffing on his pipe with a happy bhikku smile, Ron Blake is unpacking the
steaks we bought enroute in Monterey and I'm already flicking the plastics
off the top of bottles with that expert twitch and twist you only get to
learn after years of winoing in alleys east and west. Still the same, the
fog is blowing over the walls of the canyon obscuring the sun but the sun
keeps fighting back - The inside of the cabin with the fire finally going
is still the dear lovable abode now as sharp in my mind as I look at it as
an unusually well focused snapshot - The sprig of ferns still stands in a
glass of water, the books are there, the neat groceries ranged along the
wall shelves - I feel excited to be with the gang but there's a hidden