A Beat Evening
L.C.P. and I went to an evening of films relating to the Beat Generation. I've been thinking a lot about the beats the past couple of weeks, primarily Jack Kerouac, probably because his name came up in a poem by our NY friend Geo. Wallace.
The first film was a short written and narrated by Jack Kerouac, titled "Pull My Daisy". The 27 minute film relates an actual event that happened at the home of Neal and Carolyn Cassidy, when they were trying to entertain "The Bishop" while their beat friends (e.g., Gregory Corso and Allen Ginsberg) were hanging out at their home. Zaniness ensues.
Aside from the fun of seeing the actual people play themselves, the real revelation was Kerouac's voice. The guy could have been an actor — he had a real facility with character voices. He did a passable Irish accent, a voice very similar to Ginsberg’s, and a decent Brooklyn accent. There were a couple of points where he did word play jazz that was worthy of James Joyce.
The "main feature" was a documentary titled "The Source", which talks about the origins of the Beat Generation, and its influence on the hippies of the 60s and 70s, and the punks of the 80s. It opened with Ginsberg flipping through a photo album, with great shots of Neal Cassidy, Kerouac, and others. Of course, Ginsberg was a frequent interview subject, as were William S. Burroughs, Gregory Corso, and Ken Kesey.
Footnote: Ginsberg and Burroughs died within four months of each other, in 1997.
from
On Neal’s Ashes
Delicate eyes that blinked blue Rockies all ash
nipples, Ribs I touched w/ my thumb are ash
mouth my tongue touched once or twice all ash
bony cheeks soft on my belly are cinder, ash
— from
The Fall of America © 1972, Allen Ginsberg
One of the treats of this film were the sequences with Neal Cassidy, which included some snippets of his voice. As most Beatologists know, Cassidy was Kerouac’s inspiration and muse, especially for
On the Road. Based on what I saw in the movie, Cassidy was a pretty strange character; today he might be diagnosed as bipolar.
L.C.’s comment after the documentary was that it wasn’t very entertaining, but it was very interesting. There were times it had a disjointed narrative flow, but that seemed appropriate to the subject. For example, there were a number of times the narrative was broken by popular images of the beats, e.g., Bob Denver as Maynard G. Krebs, Brando in "The Wild One", etc.
As for my personal Beat library — sadly, I sold most of my Kerouac books when I moved to OKC four years ago. I had to be especially hard-hearted at the time, and I did not think it likely that I would re-read any of the books. The one book I still own is the one I’ve started any number of times and found hard to finish:
Dr. Sax.
Ironically, the first book by Jack Kerouac I read was
Pic, which is one of the few pieces of straight-ahead fiction he wrote (i.e., it wasn’t based on his life or friends). I read it in my freshman year of high school, and I remember giving it a positive book report.
I have five collections of Ginsberg’s poetry, four of which are autographed by the man himself. I read Ginsberg in small smatterings, and generally skim over his more blatantly homoerotic poetry.
The author Charles Bukowski was name-checked in the movie. At one time, Dana was a fan, and I’ve read
Ham & Rye. Main thing I remember about that book was the scene described was almost as awful as the opening paragraphs of Henry Miller’s
Tropic of Cancer.
Speaking of my man Henry, the movie didn’t mention Miller or the Lost Generation of the 20s, but I think that earlier generation had some similarities to the Beats – that same post-war up-rootedness and distrust of the status quo. Certainly, Miller’s peripatetic life was a fore-runner of Kerouac’s life “on the road”.
When we first met, LCP thought I was bohemian. Which would suggest I was heavily influenced by my reading of Miller and the beats. Well, I’m no poster boy for the American dream, but there are some ways in which I am very middle class. I own my home, I commute to work, and I work 8 - 5 weekdays. Can't be much more proletariat than that.
I remember my Princeton summer, back in 1979, which was probably the most "bohemian" period in my life. I was living in a small two-room apartment on Nassau Street with three other guys. We were all doing art and poetry. On the whole, however, I think I was more self-destructive than I was creative.
One strong similarity, however, is my sense that the spiritual is more important than the material. Art trumps commerce, in my world. Poetry, music, and painting are more important than "getting ahead".
My comment, after the movie, was to note the similarities between the 50s and the present — America was involved in what seemed a questionable conflict (the Korean War), and there was an emphasis on conformity. There's no question that many who opposed America’s attack on Iraq are the Beat Generation’s children.
The sky washes her face for October
I haven't thought of Nancy S— in sometime. The last time I saw her was July 4, 2000, when we went to her daughter's to watch fireworks. But I thought of her last night, as I meditated on the sanctuary light during Compline (which followed a Benedictine study).
Rain-heavy cloudy skies
Well, I've been playing with photoshop again. To your left, you'll see a thumbnail of an altered picture of my Winter Sprite. I've dashed off another seasonal Postcard Poem for this picture to grace. The picture with the postcard is bigger; in fact, it will take about 30 sec. to down-load. But, at least you get a hint from this thumbnail.
"Ms. Candide", who writes at "Thistle and Hemlock", just reminded me that today is Gore Vidal's birthday. Ms. Candide also provided the picture to your right. PBS recently aired a special about Mr. Vidal, which reminded me of why he's my hero.
