Jun 21, 2015
My Date with Jack Kerouac and His Bratwurst
During my freshman year at Augustana, I often saw him sitting by himself in the Student Union lounge -- in his twenties, tall, husky, bearded, with wavy brown hair and brown chest hair sneaking up over his lumberjack shirt. He would smoke a pipe, of all things, drink coffee, and read a book or scribble into a little spiral notebook. Too old to be a student -- we didn't have any "nontraditional" students at Augie -- but certainly not a professor. Was he a townie who for some reason liked the ambience of the Student Union at a small Lutheran college?
Athat point I hadn't met any gay people yet, and I didn't know how to go about finding any, so I figured: he's not with a woman, he dresses oddly, must be gay.
So one Tuesday afternoon I got a cup of coffee myself -- even though I hated the stuff -- and sat down in the chair across from him.
"What are you writing?"
He looked up and smiled. "Just a poem I'm working on. 'Tucumcari Two-Step: Heat in the Year of the Drought.'"
The rest of the story, with uncensored photos, is on Tales of West Hollywood