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Citas de “The Subterraneans” de Jack Kerouac

jameira99
jameira99compartió una citael año pasado
the kindest jazz musician there could be while being and therefore naturally the greatest
jameira99
jameira99compartió una citael año pasado
we went to the Red Drum to hear the jazz which that night was Charlie Parker with Honduras Jones on drums and others interesting
jameira99
jameira99compartió una citael año pasado
“But baby you said that the other night and you were two hours late and you don’t know what pain it caused me to wait.” (Pain!)—
jameira99
jameira99compartió una citael año pasado
Ah sad Mardou with little dark eyes looking with pain and had waited all night in a dark bed and the drunken man leering in and I rushed down in fact at once to get two cans of beer to straighten up
jameira99
jameira99compartió una citael año pasado
exclaiming “Oh Arial you dear—you are going to be—you are so famous—you wrote so well—I remember you—what—” whatever and now unrememberable and drunkenness
jameira99
jameira99compartió una citael año pasado
and we sitting in there, further beers, the horror the unspeakable horror of myself suddenly finding in myself a kind of perhaps William Blake or Crazy Jane or really Christopher Smart alcoholic humility
jameira99
jameira99compartió una citael año pasado
and drunk as usual at one point to prove something I stood on my head in the pavement of Montgomery or Clay Street and some hoodlums passed by
jameira99
jameira99compartió una citael año pasado
And in those days her love meaning no more to me than that I had a nice convenient dog chasing after me (much like in my real secretive Mexican vision of her following me down dark dobe streets of slums of Mexico City not walking with me but following, like Indian woman)
jameira99
jameira99compartió una citael año pasado
I would like to accuse myself of bastardliness—such tests—briefly I can name two
jameira99
jameira99compartió una citael año pasado
Sometimes when she speaks and I have my head under hers on the pillow and I see her jaw the dimple the woman in her neck, I see her deeply, richly, the neck, the deep chin, I know she’s one of the most enwomaned women I’ve seen, a brunette of eternity incomprehensibly beautiful and for always sad, profound, calm—
jameira99
jameira99compartió una citael año pasado
Doubts, therefore, of, well, Mardou’s Negro, naturally not only my mother but my sister whom I may have to live with some day and her husband a Southerner and everybody concerned, would be mortified to hell and have nothing to do with us—
jameira99
jameira99compartió una citael año pasado
I had my “doubts” my male self-contained doubts about her, so reasoned, “I’ll just at some time cut out and get me another girl, white, white thighs, etc., and it’ll have been a grand affair and I hope I don’t hurt her tho.”
jameira99
jameira99compartió una citael año pasado
AT FIRST I HAD DOUBTS, because she was Negro
jameira99
jameira99compartió una citael año pasado
So I went home and for several days in sexual phantasies it was she, her dark feet, thongs of sandals, dark eyes, little soft brown face, Rita-Savage-like cheeks and lips, little secretive intimacy and somehow now softly snakelike charm as befits a little thin brown woman disposed to wearing dark clothes, poor beat subterranean clothes. …
jameira99
jameira99compartió una citael año pasado
But from the first Mardou was indeed self-dependent and independent announcing she wanted no one, nothing to do with anyone, ending (after me) with same—which now in the cold unblessing night I feel in the air, this announcement of hers, and that her little teeth are no longer mine but probably my enemy’s lapping at them and giving her the sadistic treatment she probably loves as I had given her none—
jameira99
jameira99compartió una citael año pasado
“What are you reading?” and for the first time she opened her mouth and spoke to me communicating a full thought and my heart didn’t exactly sink but wondered when I heard the cultured funny tones of part Beach, part I. Magnin model, part Berkeley, part Negro highclass, something, a mixture of langue and style of talking and use of words I’d never heard before except in certain rare girls of course white and so strange even Adam at once noticed and commented with me that night—but definitely the new bop generation way of speaking
“But some day, dear Leo, that light will not shine for you”—this a prophesy irrespective of all your Yuris and attenuations in the snake of time.—“Someday she won’t be there when you want her to be there, the light’ll be out and you’ll be looking up and it will be dark in Heavenly Lane and Mardou’ll be gone, and it’ll be when you least expect it and want it.”—Always I knew this
Ah sad Mardou with little dark eyes looking with pain and had waited all night in a dark bed and the drunken man leering in and I rushed down in fact at once to get two cans of beer to straighten up
Ah I shouldn’t have done it, goofed, the long list of parties and drinkings and downcrashings and times I ran out on her, the final shocker being when in a cab together she’s insisting I take her home (to sleep) and I can go see Sam alone (in bar) but I jump out of cab, madly (“I never saw anything so maniacal”), and run into another cab and zoom off, leaving her in the night
not the pain which impels me to write this even while I don’t want to, the pain which won’t be eased by the writing of this but heightened, but which will be redeemed, and if only it were a dignified pain and could be placed somewhere other than in this black gutter of shame and loss and noisemaking folly in the night and poor sweat on my brow
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