OfSuperBladesAndBleachBottle
MasksVille
My favourite bit of Kerouackian bop-prosody is 'October In The Railroad Earth' written in 1952, a year after he finished the typewriter roll that would be sheared back into mainstreamish narrativity by a bushel of editors between then and 1957 when 'On The Road' was finally published.
Anyway.
'October' starts with Kerouac describing 'red brick drowsy afternoons'.
And, for me at least, that phrase does not evoke Ti Jean's alley at the corner of 3rd and Townsend in almost downtown San Fransisco.
Instead, it brings to mind endless road hockey games of youth played on cold, clear, runny-nosed autumn afternoons where the boards were the red brick walls of an almost Victorian-aged elementary school in real, actual Victoria.
And the skies on those days?
They were high with rays of slanting orange and pink swaddled in the pungent smoke of leaves burnt everywhere, always.
Of course, for good reason, those leaves are burnt no more.
But the road hockey skies are still there, fifty-plus years later, right outside my drowsy workday late afternoon window.
Imagine that!
Anyway.
'October' starts with Kerouac describing 'red brick drowsy afternoons'.
And, for me at least, that phrase does not evoke Ti Jean's alley at the corner of 3rd and Townsend in almost downtown San Fransisco.
Instead, it brings to mind endless road hockey games of youth played on cold, clear, runny-nosed autumn afternoons where the boards were the red brick walls of an almost Victorian-aged elementary school in real, actual Victoria.
And the skies on those days?
They were high with rays of slanting orange and pink swaddled in the pungent smoke of leaves burnt everywhere, always.
Of course, for good reason, those leaves are burnt no more.
But the road hockey skies are still there, fifty-plus years later, right outside my drowsy workday late afternoon window.
Imagine that!
_____
Only 12 days of hellterm left to go...But who's counting.
.
4 comments:
Nice to let the mind wander momentarily in the midst of the rush, to meander through pleasant past events in a quick flash before refocusing on more immediate and mundane concerns. Proust awaits...
Danneau--
Well...
I did spend a big chunk of my childhood on the edge of Swan Lake in Victoria.
But, just to be clear, despite both our kids going through the immersion system, my French is terrible.
Hey!
You must know the area around 3rd and Townsend reasonably well...
.
“They were high with rays of slanting orange and pink swaddled in the pungent smoke of leaves burnt everywhere, always.”
Brilliant line! nuff said.
Thanks Keith--
To be honest, though, that one didn't come easily.
.
Post a Comment