Charlie Parker

A tribute to Charlie Parker by Jack Kerouac and Steve Allen. Hyper-romanticism and cool jazz. 

Charlie Parker looked like Buddha. Charlie Parker . . . was called the perfect musician and his expression on his face was as calm beautiful and profound as the image of the Buddha represented in the East — the lidded eyes the expression that says: all is well.

This was what Charlie Parker said when he played: all is well. You had the feeling of early-in-the-morning like a hermit's joy or like the perfect cry of some wild gang at a jam session Wail! Whap! Charlie burst his lungs to reach the speed of what the speedsters wanted and what they wanted was his eternal slowdown. A great musician and a great creator of forms . . . . 

. . . Charlie Parker whistling them on to the brink of eternity with his Irish St. Patrick Patootlestick. And like the holy mists we blop and we plop in the waters of slaughter and white meat — and die one after one in Time. And how sweet a story it is

. . . Charlie Parker forgive me. Forgive me for not answering your eyes. For not having made an indication of that which you can devise. Charlie Parker pray for me. Pray for me and everybody.

In the Nirvanas of your brain where you hide — indulgent and huge — no longer Charlie Parker but the secret unsayable Name that carries with it merit not-to-be-measured from here to up down east or west.

Charlie Parker lay the bane off me - - and everybody.