Around the World On the Road with Jack Kerouac & Google Translate

For some perverse reason related to boredom, curiosity, and perhaps some vodka, I decided to see what the first paragraph of Kerouac's On The Road would look like were I to use Google Translate to run it through various languages and then back to English.

Here is the before paragraph:

I first met Dean not long after my wife and I split up. I had just gotten over a serious illness that I won’t bother to talk about, except that it had something to do with the miserably weary split-up and my feeling that everything was dead. With the coming of Dean Moriarty began the part of my life you could call my life on the road. Before that I’d often dreamed of going West to see the country, always vaguely planning and never taking off. Dean is the perfect guy for the road because he actually was born on the road, when his parents were passing through Salt Lake City in 1926, in a jalopy, on their way to Los Angeles. First reports of him came to me through Chad King, who’d shown me a few letters from him written in a New Mexico reform school. I was tremendously interested in the letters because they so naively and sweetly asked Chad to teach him all about Nietzsche and all the wonderful intellectual things that Chad knew. At one point Carlo and I talked about the letters and wondered if we would ever meet the strange Dean Moriarty. This is all far back, when Dean was not the way he is today, when he was a young jailkid shrouded in mystery. Then news came that Dean was out of reform school and was coming to New York for the first time; also there was talk that he had just married a girl called Marylou.

Here's the result after taking the route of English-French-Spanish-Irish-German-Russian-Welsh-Japanese-English.  I have to admit, there was a lot less corruption than I expected after dragging it through a number of significant grammatical, cultural, and syntactic changes. Not too surprisingly, the biggest changes seemed to take place in the Welsh-Japanese-English portion of the trip.

The after paragraph:

I met Dean after sharing immediately wife and me. If I did not have something to do with fatigue and the Big Bang to share their sense of dead all he was never serious illness say. Arrival of Dean Moriarty and you I started some of you can call my life on the road my life. Previously, I frequently always planned, never, taking away big, I had a dream of returning to see the country. His parents in the pileup on the way to Los Angeles, when passing through the Salt Lake City in 1926, he, so was born on the road, making the people is the best on the road. It's the first report came to Chad King that showed few letters written to me in New Mexico area through, me. Me curious to letter, they are cute innocent, so asked Chad to teach all about the great things your Nietzsche and intellectual Chad you knew. Carlo and I letter of story and you have wondered if they meet a strange Dean Moriarty ever at one point. This to me was young shrouded in mystery of jailkid lies in the Dean is not in such a way as today. Then, come make corrections news, the first time I went to New York, he was married to a girl that just is often referred to as Marylou. Discussion!

Flashback - Dix & Tom - [excerpt] - Trinity Bluffs

Tom didn’t see Dix come in.  He had no idea anyone else was there until Dix dropped himself into the chair on the opposite side of the desk, rattling everything on the desk with the force of his resignation.  

“Jesus, Dix …” Tom studied his expression.  It wasn’t a “back three months from France and still can’t find a damn job” face or a “my old man is still a bastard” face, or even a “someone from our old platoon died” face.  Someone or something was dead, though.  They were only back from the war for three months. You don’t forget that expression in three months or even three years.  They didn’t see as much death in the AEF Signal Corps as the regular infantry, but they saw their share.

When Dix reached into his suit coat and pulled out a pint bottle, Tom knew before it had reached Dix’s lips what this was about, or at least who it was about.  “So – what is she doing now?”

“It’s what she’s saying.”

“And what’s that, pal?”

“She’s saying I’ve changed, Tom.  I’m not the man she married, or the man she thought she married.  Something happened to me ‘over there’ and she doesn’t know who I am anymore. She keeps asking me about “shell-shock.  She acts like it was handed out in our rations like cigarettes.”

“So, she says something must've happened …?”

“Yeah, Maybe some terrible telegraph-related catastrophe that scarred me forever, and left me an alien in her eyes.”

“Yeah, that happens.  Signal corps can be murder, you know.  That’s why guys were always fighting to get out of it and into the trenches.”

“So I’m crippled, shell-shocked … I guess …” Dix’s hands flew out wide in sheer astonishment.  Then, having nothing else to do, they landed back on Dix’s thighs, having nothing more useful to do or insightful to express.

“You’ve heard that bunkum from her before, Dix.”

“I have.”

“And it’s different now because …?”

“Phil Cicero.”

“That little redhead 4F prick who does piano lessons out in Poly, and the church organ on Sundays?  That jerk was a problem from the get-go.”

In a lilt intended to echo Rachel’s, Dix answered, “You don’t understand him, Dixon. He’s a piano virtuoso. He has the soul of a poet.”  He underscored the tribute by uncapping his bottle again, lifting it high, and taking another shot.  “I’ll have you know …”

“What?”

“I forget. She’s ‘had me know’ a lot of shit about him.”

”Uh-huh”

“Some horse shit about how amazing he is, how much promise he has and how close he is to realizing it, if only someone would help him.”

“Yeah.  So she’s screwing him?”

“Their friendship is too pure for that.  That’s what she says.  And he’s probably so doped up on reefer all the time that he couldn’t get it up with the help of a Corps of Engineers crew.  That’s what I says.”

“So he’s pumping the ol' church organ and not her, huh? I can see why the little lady would be frustrated with old Dusty Rusty.”

The bottle emerged once again.  Dix shook it, finding it lacking in weight and sensual splashes.  He shook it a second time, up by his ear this time, just to be sure.  He carefully stood it upright on Tom’s desk, and it very predictably fell over.

Without taking his eyes off his friend, Tom hauled a desk drawer open.  He scooped up a clear bottle and lofted it across his blotter, dropping it neatly into the empty spot that Dix’s own bottle had just tumbled from.

It was gin – cheap gin at that, but Dix had left the point of caring behind about six ounces ago.  He poured a three-count into his upturned mouth, then set the bottle gingerly back where it came.  It proved more stable than his own bottle.

They sat there for a time, saying nothing.

“So, if he’s so great, Dix, why can’t he hold down a job?”

“Because he’s an addled, unstable, mama’s boy? And by that, I mean he’s sad and misunderstood and just needs a little support, like artists do. I hear tell from other people, though, that he hears voices telling him bad things to do.”

“She still supporting him on your dime?”

“She says she’s not … but I could be blind at this point.  If she is, she’s pretty damn sneaky. I haven’t noticed anything missing from the bank account lately.”

Tom shrugged. “Guess she’d have to be pretty sneaky …”

Dix nodded.

“So she hasn’t screwed him yet.” Tom declaimed, like a lawyer driving his point home to the jury, eyes drilling into his listener.  It wasn’t a question but a challenge – tell me I’m right, if you genuinely believe.

“Maybe not with her body.  She says there’s something pure in him that she wants to protect.  Something pure and innocent and good like ~”

“~ you before the war …”

Dix’s eyes tracked toward Tom’s on a wobbly trajectory.  When they met, his expression was clear – it no longer mattered. Even if her body hadn’t yet screwed Phil, every other part of her had.  

“Uh, yeah – guess so – me before …” He said it, but neither of them meant it.  He was a good guy – a standup guy – but not even Rachel would have confused him with someone pure and innocent before the war or after.  Hell, he was pretty sure he hadn’t been pure and innocent since fifth or sixth grade.

“Hey, Dix, you remember that time in the school cafeteria when you and Mary Ellen got caught by that old lunchwoman …?”

Alright, so maybe it was fourth grade that he hadn’t been innocent since.  All he was doing was trying to get a peek at Mary Ellen’s panties, but that was as good as whoring to the lunch lady, who was deaconess in the Eighth Avenue Missionary Holiness Temple.  She about had an apoplectic fit and called in everyone from the Principal and Vice Principal to both of their parents and gave a full thirty minute accounting of their thirty second adventure.

“So, what’s your plan here, Dix?”

“When I’m very sure I’ve had enough to drink – either this month or the next, I’m going to sue for divorce, if she doesn’t beat me to it.  She might. She’s sober as a judge. More sober, actually.”

“You’d better beat her to it, brother, whether you’re sobered up enough by then or not.  She didn’t bring down this bear without already knowing how to skin and dress him.  You’ve got to hit her and her little boyfriend with ‘alienation of affection’ or you’ll be paying her for the rest of your life.”

Dix knew Tom was right.  Rachel wasn’t spectacularly diabolical – or at least hadn’t been particularly so in the past, but she’d never been a woman to leave things to chance either.  Even now, with a pint in him, he realized that all of this meant that she already had her own steps unfolding and he’d be a fool to think he wasn’t already behind the cue ball.  No telling how much groundwork she’d already laid, but it was probably substantial.

That thought sobered him as much as anything could.  She had told him specifically and repeatedly that “this all developed in the weeks since you came back” but he should have realized the words were lies even as they were gliding off her tongue.  Some portion might only be weeks old, but her drift started on this side of the Atlantic, before the war. Once it took root, it festered and fermented in the free time she’d enjoyed in his absence.  What he’d taken for shyness due to their separation was really a growing secretiveness on her part.

From across the Atlantic, he’d asked her several times in letters if anything was wrong, and her slow replies always included words like “let’s not deal with it now” and “we’ll sort it all out when you’re finally home.”  It was supposed to make him feel reassure, but the long-shadowed truth was that it she was just stalling until she could finally apply her long-hatching solution to the problem of him.

"Writing is like being in love ..." - James Lee Burke

“Writing is like being in love. You never get better at it or learn more about it. The day you think you do is the day you lose it. Robert Frost called his work a lover's quarrel with the world. It's ongoing. It has neither a beginning nor an end. 

You don't have to worry about learning things. The fire of one's art burns all the impurities from the vessel that contains it.” 
― James Lee Burke

Polaroid Paragraphs #12 - Danny's Big Party

Nancy had her hand on my forehead when I woke up.

I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep out there.

“Hi, Danny. How are you?”

“Hi … hi, Nancy. Umm, okay.”

I was a little confused.  I sat up and rubbed my face. Nancy was over before lunch, but she left hours ago, I thought.  Sometime after lunch, I must’ve fallen asleep in the yard next to my aunt and uncle’s koi pond.  I couldn’t really see the sun through the trees, so I couldn’t tell at all what time it was.

“Where is everyone?” I looked around and then saw my family and my aunt and uncle through the sliding glass door and picture windows of the family room.

“They’re, yeah … all inside.” I started to get up to go see what they were up to, but Nancy put a hand on my leg.  “Stay out here with me, Danny.”

“Why? What’s going on.”

“They think you’re napping. They’re planning a party for you.  Besides, I like spending time with you. You’re leaving soon and I won’t get to spend much more.”

My birthday was weeks away still, and by the time it came, my family would be back home.  We almost always come down to see my aunt and uncle in the Summer, but we only stay about a week before we have to get back home.  In fact, we were leaving in two days.

That was really nice, everyone planning something for me.  For my last birthday, it was just my family and two classmates from the third grade. There would have been more, but since my birthday is in June, a lot of times, people have other things planned for their families.  That’s how my parents explain it to me, anyway.  A lot of times, people already have plans out of town.

Anyway, there was no way I was going interrupt them planning a party for me.

They were real distracted.  They’d talk up real close or make big gestures, or just pace around if they had something to say.   Nobody came outside, even though they gestured my way and looked through the window off and on.  I waved but nobody waved back. They were busy.

That’s okay, though.  They could be as busy as they wanted and I would just enjoy talking to Nancy.  As far back as I can remember, I’ve kind of had a crush on her.  Her parents live next to my aunt and uncle and I see her every time we come down, which has been twice a year since at least my Kindergarten year, which would make it at least ten times.

She leaned over for a sniff of the flowers that hung over the edge of the koi pond. They were lilacs, I think.  “Do you like flowers, Danny?”

I shrugged. “They’re okay.”  

“You might like these.  Why don’t you come smell them?”

I tried leaning in myself, but I was too far away, so I had to scooch over almost two feet and then lean in.  She watched me real close.  I thought at first I was getting set up for some kind of joke, but I took a sniff.  “Yeah, they’re nice.”

She nodded her head slowly without taking her eyes off me, then asked, “You can smell them alright?”

“Oh yeah. They smell real … pretty.” I couldn’t smell anything, but I didn’t want to disappoint her.

Her eyes skittered across the windows, watching everyone inside.

“Do you like taking trips, Danny?”

“Like where?”

“You know, anywhere.  Someplace you’ve never been before.  You aren’t scared of new places, are you, especially if people you know are there – friends and relatives?”

“Heh … why would I be?”

“No reason. If you’re there with people you love, it’s not scary, is it?”

“Uhh … no …” I had no idea what she was getting at.  “Are you going to have to go on a trip soon?  Where to?”  I thought maybe she had to go somewhere she didn’t want and she was worried.

“Kind of, but it’s a nice place, and I’m going with someone nice.”

That was kind of creepy.  She didn’t say she was going with family, but it sounded like one person.

“Do I know this person?”

“Of course, silly.  Hey, let’s play a game.” Way to change the subject.

“Uh, okay. What do you want to play.”

“Let’s start with twenty questions.  I’m thinking of something. You guess.”

“Is it a person?”

“Yes”

“A grown up?”

“Yes.”

“Someone who lives here?”

“No.”

“Is it a man?”

“Yes.”

“Is he American?”

“No.”

“Is he famous?”

“Yes.”

“Alive?”

“No.”

I didn’t think I knew any famous people who weren’t Americans who were dead.

“Are there pictures of him?” She made a face at pictures. “Paintings?”

“Yes.”

“In my aunt and uncle’s house?”

“Mmm … Yes.” So she had to think a little … huh.

“How many is that?”

“Nine.”

I tried to think of every drawing or painting my aunt and uncle had in their house.  There were just pictures of flowers in the kitchen.  There were big pictures in the den, but they were all forests and stuff.  Over the fire place in the family room, there was …

“Wait – are the paintings in books?  I think that’s cheating.”

“Not all of them are. Calm down. The person I’m thinking of is in a picture that’s not in a book. That’s ten.”

“Is it Christopher Robin?”

“No.”

“George Washington?”  Yeah, I know he’s American, but he wasn’t born American. He was born British.

“Nope.”

“King George?”

“Nope.”

“Is he from Europe?”

“No. Fourteen.”

Ok, I was just guessing wildly now.  I had to figure out what else they had up on their walls and not just in books.

There was some steam engine, the Last Supper, a bunch of dutch kids, waitwaitwait …

“Is he from the Middle East?

She tried not to smile, but she couldn’t help it just a bit. “Yes.”

“Is it Jesus?”

She scooted over and hugged me. I wanted to hug her back but my arms were kind of pinned the way I was sitting. “Yaaay! You got it! You won! I thought you were going to panic right at the last, though, but you didn’t.  Good for you.”

Before I even had the words in my head, I started to ask her a question. “Would you … I mean, do you … wait, nevermind.”

She was so pretty sitting there.  I always liked her, but she looked especially nice that day for some reason. The little crush I’d always had suddenly seemed enormous, and I didn’t want to let her go when we went back home.  I was sure I’d miss her like crazy.

She looked like she knew even better than me what I was going to say but didn’t. She was probably used to it. She probably had three boyfriends and all kinds of boys always asking her if she liked-them liked them, or if she just liked them.

“I really like you, Nancy.  I mean I ~”

“I really like you, too, Danny.”

“Dooooooooo …”  Now, if I didn’t finish, I’d probably look more stupid than if I did, so I went on ahead.  “Do you have a boyfriend?”  Oh, God, I actually said it, and as the words came out of my mouth, I realized how stupid they sounded.  We lived like six hours away from each other.  I saw her twice a year.  We were in fourth grade!  And I’m sure a lot of other reasons why it was the stupidest thing!

I was looking away when I asked.  I took a moment to look up at her, since she wasn’t saying anything.  “Danny, I really do like you a lot, but I don’t think it would work.  You’re going far away soon.”

I nodded and looked back inside the house.  Yeah, in two days we’d be back home.  Inside the house, something different was going on.  A guy with a suit had come in and he was showing mom and dad a big folder.  My little sisters were sitting in my aunt and uncle’s laps and they didn’t look happy at all.

“Let’s play another, Danny. You think of one now.”

“Umm … okay. I have one.”

“Is it a person?”

“Yes.”

“Real?”

“No.”

“A movie character?”

“Yes.”

“Boba Fett?”

“Whaaa!? Geez!, how’d you get it so fast!?”

“I just know you really well, Danny.”  Yeah, you know me sooooooo well you don’t even want to think about being my girlfriend.  Thanks, Nancy. Thanks bunches.

“What’s the man in the suit doing?”

“He’s showing your mom and dad plans.”

“For the party …?”

“Something like that.”

Now, it was starting to sound strange.

I turned back to Nancy.  She knew something she wasn’t telling me.

She looked different.  She was Nancy, but the sun was on her weird or something because she kind of glowed, like in old movies.  She was a little fuzzy like that now.

“He’s helping them plan it, and after you get home, they’ll have the party.  You’re going home in a little bit, and they’ll have the party three days from now, when everyone’s ready.

“They sure don’t look like they’re ready to leave.”  

“They’re not, Danny.  They’re going to leave in the morning.”

That was stupid.  Why would I be leaving in a few minutes when they’re not leaving until tomorrow?

“Yeah, right. What, I’m going to drive myself back to Denver? I think I’d get, like, arrested.”

I turned back to the window to watch everyone else.  I didn’t want to talk to Nancy about it anymore because she was saying stupid things that didn’t make any sense and I was starting to get mad.  I didn’t want to get mad at Nancy because I really, really liked her.

“It’s okay, Danny. It’s hard to let go.”

“Shut up. You’re stupid.  I don’t like you and I wasn’t asking you to be my girlfriend, so just shut up.”  I knew I was just being mean and that I didn’t mean any of it. You know how they say “Just let him get it out of his system?” That’s what it felt like. I was getting rid of it and wouldn’t have any of that anger once I said it.  And that was true.  Once I said it, I felt like I was done with it and I started to be okay.

I just watched them in the window.  It felt like I was watching a TV show on a big high def plasma screen. It looked so real, but it didn’t seem as real as other things anymore.

“Danny, my friend, we should go now.”

That was not Nancy’s voice.

I turned around slowly.  Nancy was there, but I could almost see through her now.  There was a light and it was going right through her.

“We’re going to go now, Danny, you and me.” That time, I could tell that the new voice was inside my head.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” But I knew I was.

I looked down toward the ground because my eyes were watering from the light. I could mostly see through myself too.

“My body …”

“It’s not here, Danny. The man in the suit helped your parents with it. You're all done with it.”

“But …”

“You drowned in the koi pond, silly.” That was Nancy, or whatever it was that looked like Nancy. She or it or something leaned in to kiss my cheek. She said “Bye, Danny. I’ll see you. We all will.” and then she wasn’t there anymore. The wind just kind of blew what was left of her away.

“Are you Jesus?”

The light smiled inside me and said “Sure, you can call me Jesus, Danny. Call me anything you like, buddy.”

And then, we weren’t there anymore.