by Jack Kerouac
I think it would help me a great deal if you could come out, how I know not, but wish you could. I am so disorganized. I am writing my brother asking him to send you some money and I don’t know whether he can be counted on to do so or not, but I am not ashamed or afraid to ask. We’ll see what happens. I hate to sound so ragged, dragged with life, but I have been hollow eyed for a week with worry over what has seemed to be a blind alley (of love and of writing, and living) (seemed more than the normal feeling of life for everybody as a blind alley to death) and not known what to do, just dragged myself.
A little note from the past: sketch:
“Back of the real R.R. yard, S. Jose in view dim of the white foothills beyond, in the foreground a factory with serried V roofs,—a flower on the hay on the asphalt—the dread hay flower perhaps, a brittle tough black stem like a vine, a halo of brown spikes like Jesus crown, several dozen, an inch long each, corolla of yellowish dirty spikes, and soiled and dry in the center cottony tufts sticking out like a dry dirty shaving brush that’s been under the garage for a year—yellow, yellow flower, flower of industry, tough spiked ugly flower—but it has the form of the great yellow rose in its brain, it’s a flower none the less—so brittle on the bench the wind keeps brushing it away from me where I sit near the shack in the sunlight writing—I have to get up and get it again. This is the flower of the world, ugly, worn, brittle, dry—yellow—miracle of gravel life springing to the bud.—Thistles.”
There is also the possibility that Neal can get you a RR pass ticket to get out here, I have to check with him on that.
See Meyer Schapiro perhaps too?
Maybe visit Carl in Pilgrim State. Perhaps my brother will want to drive out to visit Naomi. But why these lacerating visits?
I can’t make Miss Green often, I get too depressed and anxious. Every time I get on I come to a new deeper horrible realization of my life. Every thing seems too real, like it must be with Bill off junk.
I swear no real kicks here, they’re all available, but I can’t make the repetition of the scene unless you can buoy me up to enthusiasm, since Neal’s so withdrawn still.
I liked “the saint grieves.”
The trouble is that the money problems of reality are not ghostly at all, they’re solid as rock, I keep hitting my head on. How the hell are we going to get up $$ to get to Europe, and when that $$’s gone what are we going to do? How can we live with no future a building? That’s what’s bothering me. Especially since no poetry I might possibly write will ever produce enough $$ to even think of that as solving any problems. Prose may be somewhat different, your situation seems to me remediable in the course of things.
Aw well on this lousy note I sign off. I’ve reread your outlines in last letter on Tathagata, but then I look out my window in the sunlight and realize that I will have to be eager and vigorous and full of plans for supporting myself in five months. I’m bewildered. And it’s no joke.
Yours,
Allen, The Geek.
Jack Kerouac [Rocky Mount, North Carolina] to
Allen Ginsberg [San Francisco, California]
ca. June 10, 1955
Dear Allen:
Just a card, letter follows few days. Yes, the best idea of all is to get Neal’s railroadpasses, tell him to get on the ball and put them together and repeat instructions, since now I know the routine lingo and jargon of railroading I can certainly pass as brakeman Cassady. (He knows). Tell him ole Sal Paradise wants to come out and re-visit the jazz scenes of Dean. As to your sad letter, yes, there’s no hope, no money, feeding yourself is one “reality” essence doesn’t have to bother with and since begging is illegal in the West, true absent-minded concentration on Essence is only just about possible in the nuthouse, since even in a hermit age such as I will have in Mex I’ll have to come out every six months for turista and work problems even if only 8 $ month. But don’t despair. You and I and Bill are in same hole and can help one another out when breaks come writing-wise. Now I’m going to NY to see Cowley with my Ray Smith “Road” A new one—and Giroux with Buddha book, etc.
Yours,
Jack
Jack Kerouac [New York, New York] to
Allen Ginsberg [San Francisco, California]
June 27-28, 1955
June 27 ’55—Jim Hudson’s Pad
Dear Allen:
Am all alone in this charming pad over Washington Square in window of which yesterday I wrote big poem “MacDougal Street Blues in Three Cantos.”—Lots happenin, usually nothin.—First, I went and lost page three of your letter which Lucien said mentioned $25 and train tickets so in your answer repeat said information for I will be in Rocky Mount day after tomorrow ready to start thinkin of rollin west.
My news is beat, I guess—Davalos is in Provincetown.—An elegant gay publisher almost took Beat Generation but now Cowley wants it back—re-changed my writing name to Jack Kerouac, offered New World two new stories (“Joan Rawshank”, and last chapter of Subterraneans)—Sold “CityCity” to David Burnett’s New American Reader for $50, payable tomorrow.—Big drunks with Gregory [Corso] and everybody—sex everywhere but I have declined in general and on principle and au naturel.—Still I understand that Samsara is same as Nirvana, and Nirvana same as Samsara, but I came here I wanted my rightful [?] and money for Mexican loafs . . . tho I am wise I have to wait and endure like any other fool—Love to see you in Frisco, coming, soon, wait for me.
Will miss Peter [Orlovsky] by a week.—No money to hang around—will transmit message to Dusty [Moreland] today—Doctor Sax pronounced Magnificent by Giroux, in front of Corso, but company can’t take—Buddha is being sent to Harvard U. Press—Subterraneans at a small publisher called Criterion—Sax now at Noonday Press, publisher Arthur Cohen, if sympathetic good possibility for all of us.—Stick to poetry and tears and never mind trying to impress Lucien with theories—Lucien loves you, don’t be mad at sweet Lucien, he just naturally believes that Paul Bowles is a better writer than we are.—(He frowns over page one of Sax).—Gregory also to show his novel to Cowley.—Cowley got drunk with me in Village, said he will try to get me prize money, thought the novel-excerpt I showed him with idea of $25-a-month to finish it was too Wolfean—so is Norman Mailer Wolfean—(Cowley is old and insensitive sometimes to pain of young beat poets)—(he sleeps in letters)—but likes me—and I told him about your greatness. SO, here I am, still broke, bumming supper tonight off elegant Allen Klots of Dodd Mead, a sharp little Hohnstein hero. Must see Kingsland ere I leave.—Will find Stanley Gould and get high.—The music scene in Village is frantic.—I conducted jam session on sunup waterfront tell Neal, our tenorman has same soul as Neal (not good-looking) but is Neal—(George Jones).—Henri Cru is here, bouncer in our bar—the big meet bar (new one) Riviera—(bouncer in Remo, like).—Saw Alene [Lee], she made meet with me then didn’t show up, I wonder if she thinks she’s really hurting me—(hope so)—(for her sake).—I wouldn’t have talked to her but Anton [Rosenberg] told me to.—Gregory has eighteen year old doll and many Harvard friends and is on the con. Please tell Neal to let Carolyn know I’ll be by this summer, I have no time to write, I’m going out to get drunk in the Monday afternoon streets of Village.—I have just discovered Pound’s Cantos, never realized poetry was free till now.
[ . . . ]
Love to Neal, Peter, Sheila, Rexroth, Mew, Sublette
Jack Kerouac [New York, New York] to
Allen Ginsberg [San Francisco, California]
June 29, 1955
June Prune
Dear Allen Old Bean:
[ . . . ] I got your dream about Joan,107 and Lucien and I discussed it and got to talkin about Mexico your trip there. Lou still says he wants to go live there. Well you see, I came to New York with, to make a deal with fuck this typewriter it’s a awful typewriter, I can’t do nothing, I came to New York to make a deal with Cowley, said, “Here is twenty-seven pages of a novel in progress (the Ray Smith huge epic Road) get Viking to pay me $25 a month and I will go to Mexico
and live in a hut and finish novel.” Cowley laughed and Jennison108 was with him and they said, “You certainly aren’t holding us up, boy.” So maybe I’ll get it. Oh and also I talked about you at great length and told Cowley he must read Naked Lunch soon and he agreed and said he remembered Burroughs from descriptions of him in Beat Generation. Then he say, “You know a poet called Gregory Corso?” It seems Gregory has put out a book of poems and making big hit, The Lady of Brattle Street or something like that [The Vestal Lady on Brattle]. Lucien said Gregory was facile and would be a success but you were greater poet. But Lucien also said I and you are full of shit and can’t write and live in literary illusion like idiots and said Paul Bowles was a great writer, I said for krissakes show me Paul Bowles’ Visions of Neal and Paul Bowles’ Doctor Sax and his Some of the Dharma, his etc. etc. etc. and then we’ll judge. I got real literary then and jealous literary type and o we talked all night, I wish you weren’t missing any of it. Further, I have “citycitycity” ready to go to science fiction mags with Malcolm’s blessing. And calling Giroux today about Buddha. And Beat Generation is at Dodd Mead or something. And I’m here to try to get a few dollars and things going. I will be able to help you one day. Do you realize it was you got Town and City published, you gave it Stringham, Stringham gave it Diamond, etc. then Kazin. For god’s sake, did Neal is Neal going to send railroad passes?
[ . . . ]
Write to me. We’ve got to get me out thar.
Jack
P.S. I wrote note to Carlos Williams, asking for recommendations to Random House.
Allen Ginsberg [San Francisco, California] to
Jack Kerouac [n.p., New York, New York?]
July 5, 1955
Dear Jack:
Your June 27-29 letter received. Just returned from series of trips, Yosemite, Reno, Lucus Beebe’s Virginia City, Lake Tahoe, hitchhiking accompanying Peter on first leg of NY trip.109
Neal says he can’t get the RR ticket. He hasn’t worked very hard on trying but perhaps he can’t. He got one already for his girl Natalie [Jackson] which she didn’t use and its expired and so he can’t get another so soon. And Hinkle got one for Sheila [Williams] which she didn’t use and that’s expired already too. Hinkle’s moved back into SF by the way, with family, and Neal still maintains love nest pad with Natalie redhead. Your letter and message to Carolyn he saw, he sees all your letters.
What does Cowley want with Beat Gen? to re try publish? Send instructions on what Burroughs I should send—all three books? I have not heard from Bill for several weeks and am worried.
Using your name Kerouac is the best thing.
What is “City City city”? you never described it.
The senora from Mexico is here and will be here the first of next month for several weeks again, she might be around when you’re around in which case it might be able to occur that she invite you to loaf in Chiapas jungle, this is a real possibility, though it might take a few minimum bucks income for food since she’s poor. But she has free housing and the cheapest food around in Mexico. Plus horses, etc., servants.
I am seeing Mark Schorer110 to see if I can get teaching assistant job at Berkeley this fall when unemployment runs out and study Greek or prosody. If this doesn’t work out I may join you in Mexico.
I don’t understand Corso’s celebrity. I saw a poem of his about [Charlie] Parker, beautiful blackbird in the horn longnose pelican, in Cambridge Review. But I still don’t understand what or how he’s doing that Cowley knew of him.
What did Lucien say about Joan [Burroughs] poem dream? I wasn’t being mad at him I was saying your father in laws moustache via that paragraph I did hope he’d be impressed by theory. He’s so frightened of science I keep using the word over and over, Merims like. Skip the last sentence. Anyway I’m not scared of his frown, not at this distance anyway.
I should send Cowley poems and will sooner or later when I have finished this season here. No word from [William Carlos] Williams. You?
My brother hasn’t written me whether or not he sent you the gelt. I’ve rewritten him, asking whether. If you’ve received let me know.
Neal gave me the enclosed Brotherhood of RR Trainmen dues receipts, to send you. He sez hitch to New Orleans, whence there are two trains leaving for L.A. daily, S.P. trains, and these plus a little talk should get you through. He says you know about this type shot. Ask the conductor first, and he’ll mention it to the other conductors as they change sections or lines or what it is I dunno. If this requires further explanation write and I’ll squeeze details out of him. I tried once and the above sentence was what came out. Is this any good? He says yes.
What is Alene’s [Lee] address? I wanted to connect Peter.
I am poor but my rent’s paid and plenty of food available by cheap shopping, steaks, etc. so the 30 per week is alright.
Yes, Gregory must be conning? for what who? What does he say of [John] Hollander in Harvard? My drear penmarks—I wonder if they helped or hindered Gregory’s development.
I read your chess to Neal who just giggled.
Forgive me tonight dear skeleton.
I’ll write again. This is just to send tix.
AG
Jack Kerouac [Rocky Mount, North Carolina] to
Allen Ginsberg [San Francisco, California]
July 14, 1955
Dear Allen,
Just received a check for $25 from Eugene [Brooks]. Note says: “I have heard from Allen several times. He tells me you were in New York recently. He also asks me to send the enclosed. Look me up when you get into town. Sincerely”—Is he bugged because I didn’t look him up in NY? Well, I’ll write to him today and explain that I was on the mooch in my recent trip to NY and it’s just as well I didn’t get to him. I’ll make it sound alright, that is, don’t worry.
He’s a big Dostoevskyan brother.
So now I have money to get to New Orleans where I will hop the Zipper flatcars with sleeping bag and roll 500 miles per night, unless sometimes (in rain) I may be able to wheegle caboose rides via Neal’s brotherhood papers. Tell Neal I cannot wheegle rides on passenger trains because if he will recall, I was not a passenger brakeman and I don’t know the lingo and the routine, but when you tell him this he’ll just blow up but we don’t all know what he knows. Anyway I’ll get there.
Will leave within one week as I have to help my brother-in-law’s business moving TV sets while his helper is sick, I get 75 cents an hour and it’s making more loot for me to hit road with. So I should DEFINITELY AND WITHOUT DOUBT be in Frisco (for your DATE convenience I put big important capitals) no later than August 10 at the most outsidest and between Aug. 1 and 10th anyhow. That’s the good (Aug. 1) season in California. We’ll dig Frisco together for a few months and then I suggest we head south together to California Mexico border where we can rent dobe and you can save $20 a week out of your $30 California unemployment for return-to-NY-trip money or even, if we did it sooner, for Tangiers money. Actually, in a dobe hut, say, in Mexicali or Gadsden or Tijuana or any Calif.-Mex bordertown, we could live on $5 a week (on Mex side) and you could save 25 of your unemp.—that’s 100 in a month. I think that’s practical idea for in Frisco you’re just letting it down the drain of big city rent. Then, when you ready to re-head East, I’m goin south to Mexico City via the west coast again (Mazatlan etc.) to rent me a hut. I have minimum travelers checks for that Mexican purpose after I leave you, and minimum cash for getting out to see you now—and then I’ll get $25 from the blood bank as usual for wine and chow mein kicks—also, I may do part time jobs around Frisco, would love to get on railroad baggage room again (at $15 a nite).—
Meanwhile, I now answer your recent questions.
1. Cowley wants Beat Generation he says, he and Keith Jennison, “for another crack at it”—I told them, I apologized for goofing in 53 and Keith tapped me on back—Sterling Lord thinks they may publish it now—but I feel gloomy as usual—especially because I had come to NY with specific request for $25 a month for Mex
ico hut new-novel and Cowley goofed on that, overlooking my true need and bad foot, etc., vaguely said he’d get $250 prize for me from American Academy of Arts and Letters sometime, and sent a few of my stories to Paris Review.
2. “cityCityCITY” is my big science fiction fantasy preview of city of future which I sent Bill a copy of, very wild, I tell you about it when I see you, very hip, very tea-head writ, sinister, etc., not Burroughsian at all, tho—sort of thing I could do ad infinitum on weed—wrote it during Army McCarthy hearings and so it has wildly hip political flavor. Dave Burnett took it and dug it and made only grammar changes but hasn’t paid me $50 for it yet. Kafkaen horror etc.
3. I saw Dusty, told her Peter was coming, also told Gregory “Allen’s new angel” was coming, etc. I owe Dusty a dollar—will mail Monday—incidentally she now lives at 38 Morton St. isn’t that where Kammerer was?
4. To Cowley send ALL of Naked Lunch, titled NAKED LUNCH, I told him all about how we got to title—send it as ONE NOVEL, stop goofing with this three part business, it’s ONE NOVEL, one big Vision . . . the Junkie part leads reader on to more complicated works of Queer and Yage ahead.
5. Corso’s celebrity obtains from enclosed POEM book which I send you, hold it for me. Nice inscription. Also, he wrote a play which he was going to entitle Beat Generation, changed to This Hungup Age when he saw my New World shot—one act play, it was produced at Harvard, big hit, he got big write ups like in World Telegram a big write-up by one of the staff columnists with big headline saying “Gregory sends us poems we don’t dig” etc. all about how the columnist found Gregory writing in an underground basement under the cave of the Village or something. Gregory makes big hit with Boston socialites. and Harvard boys. and girls. And now we got together and sent his poems to Burnett one poem entitled to Jack K. did I tell you?
