Book of Sketches by Jack Kerouac

that’s
the “reform” —
Work on your own soul —
experiment to see if one
man can be saved, as
the whole lot en masse
can apparently not —
on yr own soul first,
    then the angels of
your soul, yr mother, your
wife (a new, good wife),
your children. If a son
or a daughter is bad,
throw it in the sea —
Your few good friends.
Cultivate yourself like a
flower; pull out weeds
like Cassady, Ginsberg,
Burroughs; accept the
nourishment of White,
Holmes: — water yrself
carefully — & keep your
flesh fit so as not to
burden the soul with
temporal strains & remove
that much energy
    for its prime consideration
& meditation —
God, & Good — Direct
    contact between you &
God means no church,
no society, no reform,
& almost no relationships,
& almost no hope in
relationships — but
kindness of hope inherent
in that what is good,
shall live, & what is
bad, dies — Your
flesh will be a husk,
but yr. soul a star —
The greatest & only
final form of “good”
is human —
    Because intellectual
& intellectually willed
good & so conceptual
good is only a word —
“Almost” no hope in
relationships, means,
no foolish hope, but
true hope —
Everyone to his own
true work — There
is no good in work
which does no good.
Railroads, factories,
solve & give nobody
nothing, serve the
flesh only, at great
time & sacrifice, are
evil —
     
    The true work is on
belief; true belief
in immortal good;
the continual human
struggle against
linguistic religious
abstraction; recognition
of the soul beneath
everything, & humor, —
Lights in the foggy
night are not necessarily
bleak & friendless, but
just lights (in fact to
light yr. way), & fog
from the necessary sea —
Stupid, fatuous men
are not necessarily
all stupid & fatuous,
     
    nor all on the horizon,
nor completely devoid of
good, or hope — The evil
in them will die, the
good will live — Bleak
& friendless universe is
only one of several
illusions, the greatest &
only immortal one of
which is good —
Enough, the words to
this “idea,” or belief,
are limited, the combinations
to describe it
almost exhausted already
— Manifestations
of this in humanity, therefore
in your writing work,
are endless however —
    This is the return of
the Will
     

Just the sight of the “snow”
under the locomotive, brings back
sweet light of the boy soul in
Lowell, the human earnest desire
to revisit Lowell this New Year’s
& soak up the sad hints of
the past in a grateful soul,
from just . . . “snow” — So
immortal love also hides
in things — talisman details
for the temple soul —
but soul, soul, soul, the
“details” is the life of
this thing —
GO NAKED TO THE WHITE
     
    (End of SK 3)

EN ROUTE MONTREAL BUS Mar 20 ’53
    I keep thinking of the
acorn trees outside Lowell
on that gray day Mike
& I hiked to the quarry —
Kirouac will be like
that, gray, fated —
     
    MONTREAL (in “taverne”)
Montreal is my
Paradise — &
they almost didnt
let me in —
Railroad restaurant Frisco
combined with Mexico
Fellaheen girls taverns
& Lowell — O
thanks Lord
     
    N.Y.State
Crows are insane in
the mist — America
is thrilling on a gray
day, Quebec non —
America has histories
of wood & Robert
    Frost fences —
McGillicuddy’ll
make his comeback —
The Canucks are
ignorant, vulgar,
cold hearted — I
dont like them —
No one else does —
    Moreover Kirouac
has always been an
unpopular name
among Canucks, for
Breton reasons I
guess — something
hotheaded independent
& brilliant makes
yr paisan bristle
with suspicion —
Noel was a whole
chunk of suspicion
— I shoulda
spattered him in
the street
    And that would
tear my clothes
break my watch no
thanks —
    In America the
birch is grievous,
lost, rich, poetic
— the woods are
haunted — a meaning
was united in this
bleak — I know
the dead Dutchman
of Saybrook never
cared for the
name Kirouac —
     
    but I have cared
for ye dutchmen —
It is my prerogative
to believe, in my
own way, in what
haunts my conscience
&