Big Sur Page #4

When he brought down that ax

with all his might

and holding it far at the end,

you could hear

the whole tree trunk

groaning the whole length

inside.

He brought

that ax down so hard,

his feet left the Earth

when it hit.

It was like an example

of vast, but senseless strength.

He chopped off his log

with the fury of a Greek god.

Whop, de-doo whop,

whop, de-doo whop...

Now it was

time to get in the cars.

McClure had rearrived, and we go

driving south down the Coast Highway

to a hot springs

bathhouse down there,

which sounded good

to me at first.

The boys reassure me the hot

springs bath will do me good.

They see I'm gloomy,

now hungover for good.

Look, there's

a dead otter down here.

But when we arrive,

my heart sinks again

as McClure points out to sea

from the balcony

of the outdoor pools.

And sure enough, it is

a dead otter, I guess,

a big, brown pale lump

floating up and down

mournfully...

It's just an otter.

With the swells

in the ghastly weeds.

"My otter. Why did he die?"

I ask myself in despair.

Why do they do that?

What's the sense of all this?

I borrow McClure's yellow

bathing suit and get in.

It's very typical

of me and Neal

that we won't undress

in this situation.

We were both raised Catholics,

supposedly the big sex heroes

of our generation.

Not to mention that

when somebody informs me

this bathhouse is owned by the

young writer Kevin Cudahy,

whom I knew

very well in New York.

I ask one of the young strangers,

"Where's Kevin Cudahy?"

He doesn't even deign to reply.

Thinking he hasn't heard me,

I ask again.

No reply. No notice.

I ask a third time, it all

adds up to the confusion

that's beginning to pile up in my

battered drinking brain anyway.

The constant reminders of death,

not the least of which

was the death of my peaceful

love of Bixby Canyon

now suddenly becoming a horror.

Michael.

Cheers.

To you.

All right, ready?

No, you play for me.

Hey, morning.

It looks like everybody

else, um, took off.

Is it all right if I stay?

I couldn't think of any way

to reject his request

in a harmless way, so said yes.

I... Yeah, I don't really

have a ride, so...

So when they all left

suddenly, I was alone

with this mad beatnik kid,

singing, "All I

want to do is sleep. "

You want some salami?

I mean...

yeah, I don't

really have a ride.

But I've got

to make the best of it

and not disappoint

his believing heart,

because, after all,

the poor kid actually believes

that there's something noble and

idealistic about this Beat stuff,

and I'm supposed to be

the king of the beatniks.

A dead mouse.

Whoa!

Hey, you got to watch

out for snakes, huh?

Never can tell which

kind it's gonna be.

Happy birthday, Jack!

Happy birthday!

Oh, I have good news for you.

I have brought Caroline and

Emily and Gaby and Timothy,

because all of us are so grateful

and glad because of your $100.

I have the most fantastic

story to tell you.

Come on. Let's get him

outside and tell the story.

Come on, get up!

Come on, get up!

Here, take him.

Take him. Take him.

So I have to have my old good buddies

push it down the road for me,

and this guy, he had this

perfect gem of a Cadillac.

A Cadillac, mind you, with

a new radio... get in...

and new headlights

and a this-a

and that-a

down to the new set of tires.

Oh, and the color, the color

that'll knock you out.

And a new job.

Jack, I got a new job along

with a new Cadillac,

a new job

in downtown Los Gatos,

where I don't even

have to drive.

I don't even have to drive.

It's a half mile, Jack.

I can walk.

Listen to that.

That is it.

Ah.

Ah, that is it.

Go, girls! Get him!

I tell you, being away from

the men, I lost time, brother.

I lost more than time.

I lost a piece of soul,

but I'm getting it back!

Neal has gotta learn to control

the enormous forces

that run inside of him.

You speaking to me?

What are you doing, Jack?

You see that grove there?

Once in a while, you'll be

surprised out of your shoes

to see the mule

quietly meditating...

With locks of hair like

Ruth's over his forehead,

a big biblical mule meditating.

But up here,

look at that bridge.

Yeah. Now, what do

you think of that?

It's big.

A man needs truth like

a machine needs oil.

Truth?

Well, then there's Neal.

He just manicures

his little white lies

so much that they

turn into black ones.

I don't know.

Oh, you will.

Yeah, you will.

All right.

You and me,

we're gonna go...

we're gonna go flying down

that Bayshore Highway

and go rubbing shoulders

into that city.

Then we're going

to go popping up

into my sweet

little baby Wilhelmina.

I'm gonna leave you two little

lovebirds days on end alone

so you can just live and enjoy

that gone little woman,

because, I tell you,

I want her to dig

every possible thing

you have to tell her about what

it is that you know, you hear?

'Cause she is my...

you know, she's my soul mate,

my confidante,

my mistress, and I want her

to learn, to be happy.

What's she look like?

She's all right.

She's got a gone little

body, I'll tell you that.

But in bed, oh,

she's the first and only

and last possible

greatest thing.

You dig?

I dig.

Ah, ah, ah

Ah, ah, ah...

You're here!

It's Lucien.

My God, it's Lucien.

Neal hates Lucien,

and Lucien hates Neal.

You look like Lucien,

but you're not Lucien,

and on top of that, you're a woman.

How goddamn strange.

So I'm gonna go

back to Los Gatos

and get some sleep

before I have to work.

Poor Neal Cassady.

Yet, you see,

I've already explained

why actually subconsciously

this is what he

really wants to happen,

but he won't admit it ever

and always invents reasons

around this

to get mad at me

and call me a bastard.

I even see in my drunkenness

a little worried flutter

in Neal Cassady's eyes.

I'll come back tomorrow.

Her voice is the main point.

She talks with a broken heart.

Her voice lutes brokenly

like a heart lost,

musically, too,

like in a lost groove.

I just marvel

and stare at her mouth,

wondering where all the beauty

is coming from and why.

And we end up making love

sweetly, too.

A little blonde

well experienced

in all the facets

of lovemaking.

Why is it dark outside?

Why did the sun

shine yesterday?

Doesn't he bother you

with all these questions?

He's one of the

weirdest persons I've ever met.

I answer him because I may be

missing his next question.

Everything he asks me

and says to me

represents something important about

the absolute I may be missing.

He has large, liquid

brown eyes, very beautiful,

and he hates anybody

who comes near his mother

and keeps asking her

questions constantly.

What do you mean

about the absolute?

You yourself said

everything is the absolute.

But, of course, she's right.

And I realize that,

in my dirty old soul,

I'm already jealous of Elliott.

Hey, darling.

You hungry?

Yeah? Okay.

Oh.

Here we go.

Lots and lots of milk, right?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes