Thread: Kerouacian Krap (method)

Had to shut Mr. Sandman down so's I could do some Jacky stuff....feel likes it's just about right......reckon I'll tell you about a true story, my friend and myself with the Mexicans....

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It all starts out in Mexico City. Lalo and I had just climbed out of Southern Mexico and back into the DF and there in the stupid lobby of all the gin-joints in the World, didn't I see the one chica I'd hooked up with months ago?

Her eyes went big as lagoons, and she rushed up to me, saying, "Whooooaaa, wow!"

I regarded her simply. She seemed to be hurt, or something, and said,

"Hey, how can you just sit there so easy?"

"It's the way," I said, knowing I was talking nonsense, and that she'd just spent the last 6 months on coat-tails.

This was a very cowboy hotel; the owner had shown us his 6-shooter .45 long-barreled pistol at the very start and told us there would be no trouble. To his credit, he was right, there was no trouble there...

Anyhow, I turned this chick away as one should any loose character. Lalo and I checked in, took the cheapest room, and laughed about sharing a double bed.

The day of our departure arrived, and we packed up. Guitars and stupid belongings in hand, we were ready. O, but no...

"Hey," Lalo said, " We can't leave all this mota."

I looked at him. We'd bought quite a bit for vey little money, and it was all in a little styrofoam case that looked like it carried soup or something, and it was half full, and Lalo didn't want to let it go.

"Just leave it," I told Lalo.

He didn't want to leave it, and stuffed it away into his suitcase.

Ah, and so we went, two straggling Yanks penniless, more or less, away to the train station of Mexico City. They still use trains in Mexico, god bless 'em.

We organised our tickets and hopped on the train. Mexican trains are the coolest, but very, very slow.....I found myself drinking with the...uh, I don't even know what to call him, maybe he was the ticket-collector?....I don't know....eventually, when I was staring into his cooler of beers and there were about 8 left he said, "I'm sorry, I cannot serve you anymore. The rest are for me."

At that time, I kid you not, the train was moving backward.

Well, well.....of course eventually the train started to move, and it moved pretty fairly well until we came to this little town called

Escobedo

My buddy leaned over to me and said, " Look, Scooby-Doo."

At this place, Escobado, the Mexican Army stopped our train. When it stopped everything was cool, more or less, because it had happened once or twice before. But then, they asked us all to get off the train...

Ha.....

I was beside my boy allatime. "No trouble," I told him, "They can't possibly go through every bag." I told him that because he'd insisted on bringing the ganga and he had a good handful in a container

He started s1haking like a leaf and I offered him a cigarette. He tool it, and we watched the Mexican Army go through that whole train.....

When it came to his bag.....................where he DID have it.....we saw the soldiers reach into his bag....paw around.....

Hahahqahah












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Lol, this was fun. I got a real kick out of it.
The mistakes towards the end, to emphasize tension, were a nice touch.

I wouldn't really call it Kerouacian though, the only comparison is that it's quick, thoughtless (in a good way) and highly self-aware. Okay maybe the comparison is possible, but this has a very contemporary feel married to it's experimental side.