On Saturday I went to the cinema to see Once Fast move or I’m Gone – Kerouac’s Big Sur. I was very tired, because we had just finished painting two rooms yellow in a very hot day, and the cinema was not air-conditioned, so all poetry and those beloved faces and the pleasant yet incoherent photography, not to mention the epic but slightly boring rhythm, made me feel a little drunk in the end.
Feeling a little drunk, I could not help smiling, while they were showing Ferlinghetti’s City Lights bookstore in North Beach San Francisco, where I spent more than two hours once because they had an extremely interesting selection of books indeed, but also because they had this very warm and cosy basement, to protect me from to the cold and foggy San Francisco night. There I re-read chapters of Eating Animals by Safran Foer, and thinking about that the smile immediately disappeared from my drunk face.
But then again, feeling a little drunk, when Patti Smith was talking about Kerouac stream of consciousness and she was so inspired and touched and sweet, I could not help smiling, thinking about And He Died with a Felafel in His Hand, when Noah Taylor in his Nick Cave hairstyle and Kerouac myth always insists that he needs to write on teletype paper because pages impose an artificial structure on my stream of consciousness.
– Pages, uh, tend to impose an artificial structure on my stream of consciousness.
– They don’t make teletype paper anymore.
Outside in the streets, in the lovely cool air, it was fun walking while a little drunk.