Jean-Louis Lebris de Kerouac
giovane scrittore si firmava john kerouac
welcome 1 - 2
is there a beat generation ? - forum at hunter college - new york - 8 november 1958
. War, he thought . Our nation has plunged it's mighty sinews into war .
. My generation, he whispered is making the sacrifice . It is suffering . Only through suffering does one learn love and fulfillment . I believe I am correct in saying so . My generation, my world is not lost .
my generation my world 1943 - fb/beatpoemsontheroad
To hell with all the doubters & bastards that lurk inside my
the unknown kerouac - rare, unpublished & Nnewly translated writings - books.google
My eyes were glued on life and they
were full of tears
i miei occhi erano incollati sulla vita. Ed erano pieni di lacrime
The romantics have more on the ball than the others
Those who laugh at the romantics are just jealous bank clerks
and unsuccessful writers who become critics
A romantic is a realist who digs in and lives so that he can learn more about everything
Who really knows more about realism than the romantic ?
Inward success he desired and - as youth will - he saw no reason for admitting that
inward success could only be won at the expense of outward success
Both were within reach, both were available, as far as he could see
Why not ?
the haunted life and other writings
A poet is a blind optimist
The world is against him for many reasons . But the poet persists
He believes that he is on the right track, no matter what any of his fellow men say
In his eternal search for truth, the poet is alone. He tries to be timeless in a society built on time
… if tears shall wash away the cruelty of our years, and sow the seeds of pity in our black and broken hearts, remind us that life is brief and lovely, not long and foolish, that it is strange and beautiful, yea as a dream, then so let it be, if it must be tears, if tears alone may serve ...
I know some day I will be nothing - Think hard I say to myself. Think very hard and consider yourself nothing - I will be nothing someday because I will be part of the dust of the earth which will scatter to the winds of nothing (not the four winds of the earth, but the sextillion winds of nothing) and I will scatter and fly about through nothing and be nothing. Maybe - a million years from now. And I will be nothing. I try to think hard and imagine myself nothing, but I am too much alive to think myself nothing so that despite the fact that I know its inevitability, I feel as if I’ll always go on, but I know better .
I thought I had all the significance of October under my hat and pasted . I thought that October was a tangible being, with a voice . I always thought October was a kind of old Love-light .
You realize that a man can take a train and never reach his destination, that a man has no destination at the end of the road, but that he merely has a starting point on the road - which is Home . You see it all, this epic of mankind, before your eyes; it is a limpid and awful truth, it has a naked and beautiful reality .
You are now a man, little madman
Jack Kerouac is a little man-creature, standing so high and weighing just about enough to crack some thin ice . He’s a hell of a punk, not because he wants to devote his life to talking to his fellow men and telling them some helpful things, but because he insists on being an unusual man-creature, rather than a mediocre man-creature .
A novel is a story of a man’s development, I think
Development is the soul of Fate . My first novel will be a novel
Everything develops, and then dies . That’s a novel . This novel is now ended
The page is long, blank, and full of truth
When I am through with it, it shall probably be long, full, and empty with words
atop an underwood : early stories and other writings - fb/jk
Si può sempre andare oltre
– non si finisce mai
It's okay, girl, we'll make it till the sun goes
And until then what you got to lose but the losing ?
We're fallen angels who didn't believe that
nothing means nothing
Bein Crazy is the least of my worries
None of this means anything
for krissakes speak up & be true
or shut up & go to bed
And if you dont like the tone of my poems
You can go jump in the lake
book of blues
poveri cuori umani che battono dappertutto
Ho un sacco di soldi e i soldi sono solo soldi .
I started to cry . And I looked up and saw the bleak pines by the bleak mills of Roanoke Rapids with one final despair, like the despair of a man who has nothing left to do but leave the earth forever .
And Raphael’s grimace meaks - sic - me a leak-tear right quick, I see it, I suffer, we all suffer, people die in your arms, it’s too much to bear yet you’ve got to go on as though nothing was happening, right ? right, readers ?
The only truth is music ... Because all these serious faces’ll drive you mad, the only meaning is without meaning - Music blends with the heartbeat universe and we forget the brain beat .
Everything is going to the beat - It's the beat
generation, it be-at, it's the beat to keep, it's the beat of the heart,
it's being beat and down in the world and like oldtime lowdown and like in
ancient civilizations the slave boatmen rowing galleys to a beat and
servants spinning pottery to a beat ...
He has a face that looks like everybody you've ever known and seen on the street in your generation, a sweet face - Hard to describe - sad eyes, cruel lips, expectant gleam, swaying to the beat, tall, MAJESTICAL .
Giornate di tanto tempo fa quando avrei potuto semplicemente salire al piano di sopra e baciare mia madre o mio padre e dire ' Mi piacete perché un giorno sarò un vecchio vagabondo nella desolazione e sarò solo e triste ' .
Hold together, Jack, pass through everything, everything is one dream, one appearance, one flash, one sad eye, one crystal lucid mystery, one word - Hold still, man, regain your love of life and go down from this mountain and simply be-be-be the infinite fertilities of the one mind of infinity, make no comments, complaints, criticisms, appraisals, avowals, sayings, shooting starts of thought, just flow, flow, be you all, be you what it is, it is only what it always is - Hope is a word like a snow-drift - This is the Great Knowing, this is the Awakening, this is Voidness - So shut up, live, travel, adventure, bless and dont be sorry -
COME PUO QUALSIASI COSA FINIRE ?
As for his hobby - drawing - he was better at that than most artists alive today and I always knew he was really a great young artist pretending to be withdrawn so people would leave him alone, also so people wouldn’t ask him to get a job .
Every night I still ask the Lord ' Why ? ' and haven’t heard a decent answer yet .
Nothing can be more dreary than ‘coolness’ .
My life is a vast and insane legend reaching everywhere without beginning or ending .
But what he meant was my eyes, which were blue,
like his, and my hair, which is black, like his, and when I looked into his
eyes, and he looked into my eyes, we couldn't stand all that sadness .
In fact, when Dali
and I look in the mirror we can't stand all that
sadness . To Dali sadness is
I don’t know - I don’t care - and it doesn’t matter
will be the final human prayer
Tieni duro Jack, passa attraverso tutte le cose, e tutte le cose sono un solo sogno, una sola immagine, un solo baleno, un solo occhio triste, un solo lucido mostro di cristallo, una sola parola - Tieniti forte, amico, ritrova il tuo amore per la vita e scendi giù da questa montagna e semplicemente sii - sii - sii le infinite fertilità dell'unica mente infinita, non formulare commenti, lagnanze, critiche, lodi, ammissioni massime, meteore di pensiero, semplicemente scorri, scorri, sii tutto, sii ciò che è, e solo quello che sempre è .
angeli della desolazione - 1965 - libro I parte I - desolazione nella solitudine - trad. m.corona
' 4 rules ' to live by :
1 - Do not harm a living being for revenge or personal satisfaction
2 - Do not steal from the trusting or the poor
3 - Do not lust after another’s loving mate
4 - Do not lie or be a hypocrite
desolation peak - collected writings
fb/jk - 4.3.2023
Sono cambiato io e non il vuoto
e ho fatto tutto questo
e sono andato e venuto
e mi sono lamentato e ferito
e ho gioito e urlato
angeli di desolazione
Scoppieranno guerre per gli occhi delle donne
We live to long - so long
so shut up, live, travel, adventure, bless
and don't be sorry
angeli di desolazione
Ero una volta
giovane e aggiornato e lucido e sapevo parlare di
tutto con nervosa intelligenza e con chiarezza e senza far tanti retorici
preamboli come faccio ora; in altre parole questa è la storia di uno
sfiduciato che non è più padrone di sé e insieme la storia di un egomaniaco,
per costituzione e non per facezia - questo tanto per cominciare
dal principio con ordine ed enucleare la verità, perché è proprio questo che
voglio fare. - Cominciò una calda notte d'estate, sì, con
lei seduta su un parafango quando Julien Alexander che sarebbe... Ma
cominciamo dalla storia dei sotterranei di San Francisco .
Not that I want Nirvana for myself, no sir
just a good night’s reset every single night, with window open
in silent night, and wake up to a good cup of coffee
Feeling is the essence
ANYWAY, I LOVE YOU, I REALLY DO, AND WE’LL MEET AGAIN SOME DAY
And when we do, embrace me
selected letters 1957-1969...
I have lots of things to teach you now, in case we ever meet, concerning the message that was transmitted to me under a pine tree in North Carolina on a cold winter moonlit night . It said that Nothing Ever Happened, so don't worry . It's all like a dream. Everything is ecstasy, inside. We just don't know it because of our thinking-minds . But in our true blissful essence of mind is known that everything is alright forever and forever and forever .
Close your eyes, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, stop breathing for 3 seconds, listen to the silence inside the illusion of the world, and you will remember the lesson you forgot, which was taught in immense milky way soft cloud innumerable worlds long ago and not even at all. It is all one vast awakened thing.
I call it the golden eternity .
It is perfect . We were never really born, we will never really die .
It has nothing to do with the imaginary idea of a personal self, other selves, many selves everywhere: Self is only an idea, a mortal idea. That which passes into everything is one thing. It's a dream already ended. There's nothing to be afraid of and nothing to be glad about . I know this from staring at mountains months on end . They never show any expression, they are like empty space. Do you think the emptiness of space will ever crumble away? Mountains will crumble, but the emptiness of space, which is the one universal essence of mind, the vast awakenerhood, empty and awake, will never crumble away because it was never born.
Geniuses can be scintillating and geniuses can be somber, but it's that inescapable sorrowful depth that shines through - originality .
letter to edie - selected letters 1957-1969 - the portable JK
I’m not the smiling type
Always considered writing my duty on earth
Thinking of the stars night after night I begin to realize ' The stars are words ' and all the innumerable worlds in the Milky Way are words, and so is this world too . And I realize that no matter where I am, whether in a little room full of thought or in this endless universe of stars and mountains, it’s all in my mind . There’s no need for solitude . So love life for what it is, and form no preconceptions whatever in your mind .
After all this kind of fanfare, and even more, I came to a point where I needed solitude and to just stop the machine of 'thinking' and 'enjoying' what they call 'living,' I just wanted to lie in the grass and look at the clouds ...
Ah America, so big, so sad, so black, you’re like the leafs of a dry summer that go crinkly ere August found its end, you’re hopeless, everyone you look on you, there’s nothing but the dry drear hopelessness, the knowledge of impending death, the suffering of present life, lights of Christmas wont save you or anybody, any more you could put Christmas lights on a dead bush in August, at night, and make it look like something, what is this Christmas you profess, in this void ? … in this nebulous cloud ?
Everything is perfect on the street again, the world is permeated with roses of happiness all the time, but none of us know it . The happiness consists in realizing that it is all a great strange dream .
... learn the secret of my human heart, give me the thing, give me your hand, take me to the emerald mountains beyond the city, take me to the safe place, be kind, be nice, smile - I’m too tired now of everything else -
Paris is a woman but London is an independent man puffing his pipe in a pub .
No man should go through life without once experiencing healthy, even bored solitude in the wilderness, finding himself depending solely on himself and thereby learning his true and hidden strength . Learning for instance, to eat when he’s hungry and sleep when he’s sleepy .
se Gesù sedesse alla mia
scrivania questa notte, guardando fuori dalla finestra, tutta quella gente
che ride felice per l’inizio delle vacanze estive, forse sorriderebbe e
ringrazierebbe suo Padre. Non lo
so. La gente deve 'vivere',
eppure so che soltanto Gesù conosce la risposta definitiva .
More than a rock in my belly, I have a waterfall in my
brain; a rose in my eye, a beautiful eye; and what's in my heart but a
mountainside, and what's in my skull; a light . And in my throat
a bird . And I have in my soul, in my arm, in my mind, in my
blood, in my bean a grindstone of plaints which grinds rock into water, and
the water is warmed by fires, and sweetened by elixirs, and becomes the pool
of contemplation of the dearness of life .
In my mind I cry . In my heart I think . In my eye I love . In my breast I see . In my soul I become . In my shroud I will die . In my grave I will change .
notes - feb 1950
L'erba profuma di caldo e si sfalda nell'aria più fredda, l'oscurità si manifesta su tutta l'immensa giostra del mondo e il bestiame resta lì, ad aspettare la triste notte di nebbia spazzata dal vento, le sirene della baia sottostante e le stelle isolate che brillano fra gli squarci di nebbia a mezzanotte .
Non ho mai chiesto di essere creato e di nascere così
inadatto a una simile realtà. Io chiedo solo, ora che sono vivo e
consapevole, l'estasi di cui la mia anima ha bisogno.
LOVE IS ALL
HO CREATO QUEL CIELO ?
the point is we're waiting, not how comfortable we are while waiting. Paleolithic man waited by caves for the realization of why he was there, and hunted; modern men wait in beautified homes and try to forget death and birth. We're waiting for the realization that this is the golden eternity .
This is the first teaching from the golden eternity .
Rest and be kind ... Even in dreams be kind, because anyway there is no time, no space, no mind ... Kindness and sympathy, understanding and encouragement, these give: they are better than just presents and gifts : no reason in the world why not . Anyhow, be nice . Remember the golden eternity is yourself .
looking for the light, you may suddenly be devoured by the darkness and find
the true light .
life is drenched in spirit - it rains spirit - we would suffer were it not
And what does the rain say at night in a small
town, what does the rain have to say ?
Who walks beneath dripping melancholy branches listening to the rain ?
Who is there in the rain’s million-needled blurring splash, listening to the
grave music of the rain at night, September rain, September rain, so dark
and soft ? Who is there listening to steady level roaring
rain all around, brooding and listening and waiting, in the rain-washed,
rain-twinkled dark of night ?
The world’s in such a mess, all you poor kids are mixed up. Keep your chin up and just wait for the best, or the worst, whichever Fate chooses to deal you . But be brave, be gay, be a genuine man whatever you do ! That’s the way to live . Don’t worry, don’t repent .
he saw that all the struggles of life were incessant, laborious, painful, that nothing was done quickly, without labor, that it had to undergo a thousand fondlings, revisings, moldings, addings, removings, graftings, tearings, correctings, smoothings, rebuildings, reconsiderings, nailings, tackings, chippings, hammerings, hoistings, connectings - all the poor fumbling uncertain incompletions of human endeavor. They went on forever and were forever incomplete, far from perfect, refined, or smooth, full of terrible memories of failure and fears of failure, yet, in the way of things, somehow noble, complete, and shining in the end .
My philosophy is that you can't explain the world . It's too big and it's too crazy and sometimes it's funny and most of the time it's ... strange .
the town and the city
I wonder why our life must
quiver between beauty and guilt
Hang on, hang on …
life's long, energy creates energy, things are all-right
hunger piles up, love waits … and when found …
grows. Hang on .
A day of intense feelings, a day of great rending thoughts that twist one back to face sudden realities hitherto avoided - and there you are, facing them, like looking into the sun, blinking, admitting the truth
I wonder if happiness is possible
I want a blaze of light to flame in me forever in a timeless
dear love of everything
And why should I pretend to want anything else ?
I'm throwing away something that I can't even find in the incredible
clutter of my being
I would have preferred the happy man to the unhappy
poems he's left us
And I go home having lost her love . And write this book .
O love, fled me - or do telepathies cross sympathetically in the night ?
The details are the life of it, I insist, say everything on your mind, don’t hold back
don’t analyze or anything as you go along, say it out .
... Ah, you always go for the ones who don't really want you .
|Offer them what they secretly want and they of course immediately become panic-stricken|
I am mentally exhausted and spiritually
discouraged by this shit of being of
having to do what everybody wants me to do instead of just my old private
life of poesies and nove lies of yore.
JK to AG - letters - dharma lion: a biography of allen ginsberg di michael schumacher
I want to fish as deep down as possible into my own subconscious
in the belief that once that far down, everyone will understand
because they are the same that far down
Be in love with your life every detail of it
We are stupid, stupid
that’s the main thing about us . We don’t doubt enough, we, form too many convictions, like idiots we live by them. It’s far better that, instead of perfecting our attitudes, or perfecting our position in the world even, we would spend time perfecting doubt - develop a perfection of doubt ...
I’m almost ready to say I no longer ' care ' what you think about me, not all that concerns me is what I think about you - it’s you that counts . I wantto be normal, dammit. Normal people are not self-conscious so muchas I’ve been .
There’s still a glimmer of love at the heart of the evil universe
forse la vita è questo
… un battito di ciglia e stelle ammiccanti
jk - selected letters 1940-1956
I don't know, I don't care and it doesn't make any difference
I’m a rucksack bum
in the desert trudging along not knowing I’m trudging along to European travel, fame and fortune and showing how fame & fortune is a crock in America .
really, your death has never ceased making of me a damned sentimentalist
like yourself … You bastard, you, I shan’t ever forgive
Be fair, be just, forgive everything
Forget a word like skeptical and use the word melancholy . Forget the facts and think of the things, all the things . What is a fact in a whole world of things! It is only a vanity, a word, an intellectual term . There are all the things, all the appurtenances of the world, through which you move with love, as best as you can, doubting even your love as you doubt your hate, equally, doubting, staying fair, just, forgiving, rich and large .
She was a wench
hear, and she toyed with my heart - and broke it . I have not since played with fire . Silence is the greatest wisdom …
selected letters 1940-1956
So you see, Nin
my aimlessness and laziness are not just ingrained in my personality they were put there by the hard nature of life when I was just four or five, and can be extracted again, like a bad appendix . The only thing I don’t like about all this is that I lose self-respect, I feel as though I don’t have a mind or will of my own . But then I realize that, well, anyway, get operated on for the hell of it - because if I start to exercise my so-called will on my own again, it will blindly lead me back along the rounded rut of that circle I’m in . Gadzooks, I’m sick of that circle .
selected letters 1940-1956 - to his sister caroline_nin
... it was all my fault and you were not to blame
because you’re always the same
and very constant in your own way that I understand now
What I’m beginning to discover now is something beyond the novel
and beyond the arbitrary confines of the story …
I’m making myself seek to find the wild form, that can grow with my wild heart …
because now I know MY HEART DOES GROW
Between incomprehensible and incoherent sits the madhouse
I am not in the madhouse
that if all the world were green,
there would be no such thing as the color green. Similarly, men cannot know
what it is to be together without otherwise knowing what it is to be apart .
If all the world were love, then, how could love exist? This is why we turn
away from each other on moments of great happiness and closeness .
How can we know happiness and closeness without contrasting them, like
I feel older
and clearer than I ever did - though at the same time more irretrievable isolated in the huge dream of the world … Whatever I want, I still am not what I wanted to be, none of the many kinds of things I wanted to be - and perhaps will not . The opening of eyes goes on .
I'm afraid that you'll never understand me fully
and because of that
sometimes you'll be frightened, disgusted, annoyed or pleased
I think we none of us realize the importance
nay the sweetness, of admiration
it is one of the dying virtues of character
I want to write about the crazy generation and put them on the map and give them importance and make everything begin to change once more, as it always does every twenty years .
We are sealed in our own little melancholy atmospheres, like planets
and revolving around the sun, our common but distant
The Moon Her Majesty
THE MOON HER MAGIC BE, BIG SAD FACE
OF INFINITY. AN ILLUMINATED CLAY BALL
MANIFESTING MANY GENTLEMANLY REMARKS
SHE KICKS A STAR, CLOUDS FOREGATHER
IN SCIMITAR SHAPE, TO ROUND HER
CRADLE OUT, UPSIDEDOWN AND OLD TIME
YOU CAN ALSO LET THE MOON FOOL YOU
WITH IMAGINARY ORANGE-BALLS
OF BLAZING IMGAINARY LIGHT IN FRIGHT
AS EYEBALLS, HURT & FOREGATHERED
WINK TO THE WINCE OF THE SEEING
OF A LITTLE SPRIGHTLY OTAY
WHICH PROJECTS SPIKES OF LIGHT
OUT THE ROUND SMOOTH BLUE BALLOON
BUT FULL OF MOUNTAINS AND MOONS
DEEP AS THE OCEAN, HIGH AS THE MOON
LOW AS THE LOWEST RIVER LAGOON
FISH IN THE TAR AND PULL IN THE SPAR
BILLY THE BUD AND HANSHAN EMPEROR
AND ALL WALL MOONGAZERS SINCE
DANIEL MACHREE, YEATS SEE
GAZE AT THE MOON OCEAN MARKING
IN SOME CASES
THE MOON IS YOU
IN ANY CASE
on delicate hinges
the Autumn Leaf
Almost off the stem