Kerouac’s Notebook

by
Jonathan Scovner

I.

Yes, I’ve been thinking a lot about Kerouac’s notebook, lo these many years. “Scribbled, secret notebooks,” he wrote. “Wild typewritten pages.”

    And I’ve been thinking a lot about Christ, lo these many years. “And when you pray, you shall not be like the hypocrites,” he said. “For they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the corners of the streets, that they may be seen by men.”

    And yes, it is true that the round, ruddy face of the woman I encountered in that coffeeshop in downtown Frederick, some years ago, has haunted me ever since. “Oh, I’ve been published lots of times!” she exclaimed. “Here, let me sign a copy for you!”
 

II.

One more Kerouac quote, from The Subterraneans:

           They are hip without being slick, they are intelligent without being
           corny, they are intellectual   as hell and know all about Pound
           without being pretentious or talking too much about it, they are very
           quiet, they are very Christlike.

Now, actual advertisements taken from a recent issue of Writer’s Digest, whose motto is, “Write Better, Get Published!”

      You’re serious about writing a novel. So, get the tools to take your
      story idea from initial concept and characters through completed
      manuscript – all in one powerful, easy-to-use product… WriteWay
      is loaded with great features!

*

           Alaska Cruise for Writers aboard Holland America’s luxurious flagship
           ms Oosterdam. A Hands-on Writer’s retreat. A time to write, a time to
           spend with our renowned faculty shaping and improving your work. Early
           bird rates start at only $2499!

*

           Storybase sparks your imagination with a vast library of 2363 essential
           narrative situations and helps you create stories and characters
           that will resonate for your audience. Storybase is the ultimate creative
           resource for everyone who wants to tell a story!

           “I love Storybase! Even a short stroll through its thousands of conflicts
           stirs the creative juices. The imagination soars!” – Amanda Scott –
           Bestselling author of the Secret Clan novels.

*

           Create Great Characters! Character Pro 5, character-development
           software!

    You ever wonder why it is that modern novels seem the same? You ever wonder how best-selling writers manage to push out a five or six hundred page “thriller” every six months?

    Well, now we know.

    In fact, you, too, could be a best-selling writer!

    The decline of civilization is what this is all about. Kerouac’s notebook is what this is all about.

    The person who signs up for such a cruise at the one advertised above does not use a notebook, but only the very finest of leather-bound, gilded journals, replete with inspirational quotations and illustrations of moons and suns. And when they’re not taking cruises, why, they’re sitting in the Starbucks portion of their favorite Barnes & Noble (where they’ve purchased the leather-bound journal in question, along with the latest issue of Writer’s Digest), and they’re sipping a frappuccino and their eyebrow is raised as their fountain pen makes its wonderful swoops and swirls of language, on display for anyone who cares to gawk at them.

    This is a writer.

    This is an artist.

    When he or she is finished writing, the empty coffee mug will be left behind. That is not their concern. They will go to their wonderful homes in the bosom of refinery and at night they will gently make sensual love with their all-too-willing muse.

    In this very modern age of writing and publishing, it makes one wonder what the truly great novelists would say to such abominations. What would James Joyce say, one might wonder? What would Dostoyevsky say?

    Well, fortunately, I just happen to have Dostoyevsky here with me.

    Tell us, Fyodor, do you see the connections I’m attempting to make here? What do you make of all this?

    “Ach! If only I’d had Character Pro 5, I mighta just saved myself some goddamn writer’s cramp! I coulda just typed in, ‘Brothers, dead father, lotsa religion and some guilt,’ and that woulda been that! Ach, pass me some damned vodka!”

    Okay, okay, here, take it! And what about you, Mister Joyce? Could I get your opinion?

    “All them bloody languages I bothered memorizin’ and shiite! Well, I coulda been out drinkin’ Guinness and watchin’ football on the bleedin’ telley, couldn’t I?”

    Gosh, you had television way back then?

    “Ah, I was bein’ all metaphorical-like!”

    Here, in the house where I live, I share space with all the great writers on my bookshelf. They’re there to inspire me. They’re there to humble me with their perfection. They can be kind of cranky.

    But let’s get a different opinion. Ms. Wells, you’ve published a book recently, yes?
 “Oh, yes.”

    Did you find it to be a difficult process?

    “Oh, not at all. And it only cost seven hundred dollars!”

    Right. Could you tell us a little about the writing process, for any would-be writers out there?

    “Oh, certainly! First, I wake up every morning with the sun! Then, I fix myself a nice, hot cup of tea, sit out on the front porch of my retreat center and meditate until the dew has evaporated and my mind is clear!”

    Uh-huh. And do use any, you know, artificial stimulus to get you started? You know, like a computer program?

    “I put one small wedge of lemon in my tea, stir it around for just a quick second, then fish it out! A dollop of honey and you’re on your way! Mm!”

    Uh-huh. And what about computer software, Ms. Wells? Do you find, as I do, that it compromises the integrity of good writing? Don’t you feel, as I do, that writing – indeed, all of art – should be hard… is, in fact, as Harlan Ellison once opined, supposed to be hard?

    “Well, for me, writing is all about being in a state of total relaxation. You have to find that special, creative place inside of you, your inner-writer! Why, I bet that there’s not a person anywhere reading this who doesn’t have a story just bursting to get out!”

    Uh-huh. But what about…?

    “Uh, pardon me, please.”

    Yes, Mr. Hemmingway? You have a question for Ms. Wells?

    “Yes, good afternoon. I have a question about the writing process.”

    Wonderful! Go right ahead!

    “I was wondering if the young lady might share with us what she wears while writing on her front porch.”

    “Oh, usually just whatever I was wearing to bed that night. You know, just my nightie. I like the way the morning breeze feels on my skin.”

    “Really? How interesting. And tell me, when you say ‘nightie,’ do you mean to imply that…”

    Ernest, please! Why don’t you go outside and find F. Scott and defend your honor, or something?

    Sorry about all that, Ms. Wells. He’s actually a very gentle…

    “Ugh, do you have a bathroom here where I could wash up? I feel so dirty!”

    Uh, sure. Right down the hall. First door on the left. You might want to knock first.

    Well, she’s gone. Good job, Ernest. I finally got a woman to come out here... Bukowski’s food dish is empty; by the way, someone should fill it before he wakes up…
 

III.

I’m trying to make connections here, which isn’t necessarily the same as drawing conclusions. I think there’s something common between what Kerouac said and about what Christ said; just as I suspect that there’s something common between StoryBase 2000 software and Ms. Wells sitting out on her front porch watching the deer and antelope play.

    Maybe I’m being too judgmental here.

    Or not judgmental enough.

    I do have compassion for Ms. Wells and the others like her. I have compassion for the subscribers to Writer’s Digest who feel they have a story to tell. I would not be the one to stand between them and the “realization “of their dream, though I certainly do not think that the publishing industry should be centered around the writer feeling good about him or her-self.

    My point is: Writers should not feel good about themselves.

    Wait. No. That sounds wrong. That’s not my point. My point is…

    “Ee-yugh! Get your hands offa me, pervert!”

    Ms. Wells! Where are you running off? Ms. Wells!

    “This is, without a doubt, the most base house I have ever been in!”

    Ms. Wells, come back! I’ve been thinking! I think maybe I want to see your retreat center! I think maybe your simplistic life is what I need to… Ms. Wells!

    Well, that fries it. Who’s harassing our guests? Ernest, is that you? Because if… Oh! Jack! Hi, Jack! How’s it going? I was just writing about you!

    “That chick is crazy in the head, man. You have a light? I was on the make and the chick wouldn’t even take tea with me.”

    Really? That’s funny, because she was just… Oh, that kind of tea. Hey, you seem rather lucid at the moment; so let me put this question to you. Do you find that there’s any issue of, you know, morality at stake in a publication like Writer’s Digest advertising all sorts of…

    “Man, you think so much it gives me a headache on your behalf. You have any vodka left?”

    Me? No, I gave the last of mine to Fyodor. You know, sometimes I think you guys maybe drink too much.

    “Ah, some madness and intoxication never harmed the soul.”

    But you eventually drink yourself to death while living at home with your mom!

    “Yeah, but that’s not for another… what, ten years? Something like that. You have to live in the now, man.”

    Hm, that’s really deep. Listen, did you see if anyone’s fed Bukowski today? He’s been… Hey! What the hell is Ginsberg doing on the roof of that house? Hey, Ginsberg! Get down from there. You’ll hurt yourself! And put some clothes on!

    “I am the proto-messiah in a retro-messianic age!”

    Oh, come on, Jack, not you, too! If Ginsberg, Corso and Ferlinghetti all jumped off of a cliff, would you… Jack! Come back!

    “I am the perfect man! The Buddha of this world!”

    Oy vey.
 

IV.

Yeah. I’ve been thinking a lot about Kerouac’s notebook these days.

    I think it has something to do with a great compromise in the art of writing and the decline of civilization, but I just can’t put my finger on it, so that night, I asked F. Scott. He just shrugged me off and swallowed the last of his gin. Then he and Zelda began arguing about something and I let them go at it.

    Ernest was sitting in the kitchen, mumbling to no one about Jews and bullfighting. He barely noticed me. It was so hot that he had his shirt unbuttoned. Sylvia had left the oven on and open again.

    Upstairs, my roommate Franz lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling, smoking a cigarette. I don’t think he ever sleeps. Dead cockroaches he had smooshed and arranged in little piles surrounded his bed. I would’ve tried to ask him about Kerouac’s notebook, but it’s always so hard for me to discuss anything to do with writing with him.

    “Well, of course it’s Kafka-esque!” he yelled at me once, ripping his story out of my hands.

    I kicked aside the empty bottles piled on the floor and lifted out a battered notebook. It smelled like booze. I flipped through it, but the writing was smeared and illegible, and I couldn’t tell if it was the words of Christ, Kerouac or Amanda Scott, best-selling author of the Secret Clan novels.

    Ms. Wells has her house to live in.

    I have mine.

~In Memory of Ray Cayer~