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“Gad, Easter, where was I?”— “The soft son, the flowers and here I was going down the street and thinking ‘Why did I allow myself to be bored ever in the past and to compensate for it got high or drunk or rages or all the tricks people have because they want anything but serene understanding of just what there is, which is after all so much, and thinking like angry social deals,— like angry— kicks— like hassling over social problems and my race problem, it meant so little and I could feel that great confidence and gold of the morning would slip away eventually and had already started— I could have made my whole life like that morning just on the strength of pure understanding and willingness to live and go along, God it was the most beautiful thing ever happened to me in its own way— but was it all sinister.”— Ended when she got home to her sistsers’ house in Oakland and they were furious at her anyway but she told them off and did strange things; she noticed for instance the complicated wiring her eldest sister had done to connect the TV and the radio to the kitchen plug in the ramshackle wood upstairs of their cottage near Seventh and Pine the railrood sooty wood and gargoyle porches like tinder in the sham scrapple slums, the yard nothing but a lot with broken rocks and black wood showing where hobes Tokay’d last night before moving off across the meatpacking yard to the Mainline rail Tracy-bound thru vast endless impossible Brooklyn-Oakland full of telephone poles and crap and on Saturday nights and the wild Negro bars full of whores and the Mexican’s Ya-Yaaing in their own saloons and the cop car cruising the long sad avenue riddled with drinkers and the glitter of broken bottles…
— Jack Kerouac, from The Subterraneans (1958)

Caz “Golden Gate” Dolowicz Regrets: he never had the famous oatmeal of Oakland, although once in Sausalito he was sodomized and remembers it fondly. Sausalito means “small willow grove.” Stalin means “man of steel.”

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