Her

Not the movie…

I had to read Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s Her because Ferlinghetti is still alive. Ferlinghetti who Kerouac called Smiler in Big Sur and insisted that even Smiler would die someday. Kerouac in the ground nearly fifty years now and Smiler still alive, still of this world.

Ferlinghetti’s Her which Kerouac wrote “…is very good, will surprise lotta people, is strange long thinlegged shadow Paris sidewalk dream of birds” – and how drunk was Jack when he wrote that?

Her starts – are you ready? It starts “I was bearing a white phallus through the wood of the world, I was looking for a place to plunge it, a place to surrender it.”

How can you resist that?

Also Lawrence Ferlinghetti is still alive. Ninety-five. I’ve never met him. Seen him several times in North Beach. Once at City Lights. Once at a poetry reading in the park. Didn’t have the courage / guts / instinct to go up and say something witty and shake his hand.

Ferlinghetti is 95.

I’d better get on it…

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