Las Vegas (1975)
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@thesingingknives
Las Vegas (1975)
The Depths of Los Angeles. 5.24.26
Jack Kerouac reading the last paragraph of ‘On The Road’ accompanied by Steve Allen’s piano, 1959.
various editions of on the road by jack kerouac 1. 2. 3.
On November 16, 1952, the New York Times published John Clellon Holmes' article, "This is the Beat Generation." In it, he credited Jack Kerouac with the term:
"It was John Kerouac, the author of a fine, neglected novel 'The Town and the City,' who finally came up with it. It was several years ago, when the face was harder to recognize, but he has a sharp, sympathetic eye, and one day he said, 'You know, this is really a beat generation.'"
Kerouac and Monroe on Kalaloch
1. Long ago they found each other here. She wanted to be like the wild stallion she had seen in Nevada. He had lost his mind in Massachusetts.
They sat all day on the long beach. They drank beer propped against drowned trees. Sometimes they spoke. Mostly they stared at the sea. Low tide. High. Their famous faces flared on the screen of the sky. Their faces grew tired, turned red, Their limbs dried. The sun fell. They became driftwood. They were dying. She said tell me of sex.
He recited Rilke's Ninth Elegy. She heard only the line and escapes in ecstasy beyond the violin. Tell me, she cried, of when you were a kid.
2. She slid her hand down the haggard belly, held him. He was warm. He stirred. He stayed small. He slept. She watched twelve pelicans row the horizon. She laid her head on the blade of his shoulder.
She saw his face above the waves. It was the saddest face she had ever seen. She saw the face held knowledge of her death. She saw the man might be the man who murders her.
They walked miles up the beach looking for a bed. He quoted poets who had slept there. He said he knew the island was Tatoosh from the poems. He said poets find their lovers here. Later, they found a road sign. It named the island Destruction.
3.
In a tavern on the highway an Indian was saying Hunting elk is a disease. I seen an elk hunter pump seven bullets into an elk that wasn't there. And he didn't even have his gun.
Tell me about sex, she said as they drank. Tell me who you are. He said, I've been ruthless.
The bartender asked, Where you two from? You look familiar, like a couple I know in Wyoming. The Indian went on You can take any road out of here, sleep over night, hear them the mating calls, cougar, lynx, black bear this time of year.
They walked back through slashpiles. It was dark. He said I learned to be ruthless from the Church. I took a vow of poverty.
She searched the sky for the southern stars. She saw how far she had come. Shit. She said, I was born in L.A.
4. They made a bed beneath Cedar on a bluff above the sea She would have preferred on the beach, He was afraid of rain. She was glad to know of something he felt.
They made a small fire. They cooked soup in the can. They covered themselves with a single blanket.
5. When first they loved when her body lifted off the needles when her body rose and churned like the demonic waves when her cries, lifted to the night, screamed back at them like gulls she knew why no man had ever stayed with her.
6. When second they fucked, she sobbed, She screamed. It was not Pleasure. He folded his arms around her back, Lifted her from the ground. The water rolled from her face. He said What is my name?
7. When they loved again she remembered This may be the man who kills me. She felt his hands Form the body she knew as a girl. She saw the raccoons watching them. In stars' light their needles glistened. She thought Cougar. Lynx. Black Bear
and such a light body he laid on her So thin. His ribs. He was hard to find. He fled more than she. Are you ever... she searched Cedar for the word Emotional. When he was through he poured his dark face into her pale hair She felt his body heave in the attempt to cry.
8. She watched the Virgin slip into the water. She woke him. Tell me about Ruthless.
He told her. She lay quiet. The man could kill her. She watched the Scales of Love go down. She woke him. She whispered don't be ruthless with me. You can get whatever you want without being Ruthless.
He promised. He slept. Of course, she said to the Scorpion, I can take it. He was awake. He said I know you can.
9. Once from the night she heard the Indian again. Wednesday is hump night. That's halfway over the hump. She saw the raccoons getting ready. Cougar. Black Bear. She said Ruthless means a promise is nothing.
He was awake. He said I know. I thought of that.
10. When again they loved, as the Hunter drowned, as the night rolled over the hump of the sun, he shook her shoulders and cried, Do you even know my name?
11. In the silver light of morning, at the coldest hour they loved again. The tide was high. Water rushed the bluff. Cedar flared above them. He buried his mouth in the wild yellow grass between her legs. The seasons changed. It was summer when they met. Now the trees flamed and fell.
12. He took his shirt from her. He leaned over the bluff. The sky and sea found his body for her. Tell me, she said, about sex.
He put on his black leather cap. The saddest face she had ever seen smiled. He said, My name is Jack. Your name is Marilyn. And that is why we sojourn here Alone on Kalaloch.
13. They are so far from home. She says his name. He touches her lips. She will escape into ecstasy beyond the violin. When he can't cry, he will see his own face above the waves, he will shoot fictitious elk, he will be without his gun. He will be ruthless.
—Sharon Doubiago
Cocktail Dress
c. 1950-1956
by James Galanos
UNT Digital Library
Edmund Collein - Four women looking through window, 1928
Danny Lyon
i got a land mine in my bloodline i’m not immune to getting blown apart
Drinking Super in Birkenhead Park, Photo by Ken Grant, 1994
Birkenhead, North West England, Photo by Ken Grant, 1985-90
The Klezmatics - We Were Made for These Times
My dear friends: Do not lose heart. We were made for these times.
I have heard from so many recently who are deeply and properly bewildered. They are concerned about the state of affairs in our world right now. One has to be exceptionally strong to withstand much of what passes for “good” in our culture today. Abject disregard of what the soul finds most precious and irreplaceable and the corruption of principled ideals have become “the new normal,” the grotesquerie of the week. It is hard to say which one of the current egregious matters has rocked people’s worlds and beliefs more. Ours is a time of almost daily jaw dropping astonishment and often righteous rage over the latest degradations of what matters most to civilized, visionary people. The lustre and hubris some have aspired to while endorsing acts so heinous against children, elders, everyday people, the poor, the unguarded, the helpless, is breathtaking.
Yet ...I urge you to please not spend your spirit dry by bewailing these difficult times. Do not lose hope. The fact is -- we were made for these times. This comes with much love and prayer that you remember who you came from, and why you came to this beautiful, needful Earth.
Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D. From Letter to a Young Activist During Troubled Times
Loop.
Shot with Kodak Pro Image 100.
Yoshikazu Tanaka (Japanese Artist, born 1933)
"Moonlight, Purified Night III", 2014.
Wood Engraving, 36 × 28 cm.
Private Collection.