I had the great privilege of hearing Patti Smith read from Just Kids at The New School a while back. She read from the priceless scene in which she meets Allen Ginsberg at an automat. I’m quite fond of kitsch automat culture, and used to frequent the one down on Saint Marks when it was still around. Basically, an automat is fast fast food: you don’t even have to stand in line to order a burger and fries; you just slip a few quarters into a vending machine and out comes surprisingly delicious warm food. Whenever I ate at the Automat, I felt like I was a character straight out of The Jetsons. I was hooked on their mac-and-cheese egg rolls. The resurgence of The Automat only stuck around for a few years, but as a whole they were big a few decades ago. When Patti Smith was in her early twenties, scraping by to survive, she fed a few quarters into an automat to get some quick, cheap food. When she turned the knob she discovered the price had gone up. The machine had sucked up her meager coins and she was about to go hungry when Allen Ginsberg offered her the additional cents and even paid for a cup of coffee. They get to talking, she knowing perfectly well he is the great poet, and he thinking the whole time she is a handsome boy!
I knew for a long time that I wanted to read Just Kids. It had all the makings of a book I knew I’d love—New York City, Beat poets, artists, The Hotel Chelsea, Andy Warhol, music, and memoir. The only problem was that I was inundated with reading assignments for classes and bills to pay for tuition and books for said classes. Just Kids wasn’t constantly checked out of the library, which was probably for the best because I didn’t have the time to read it anyway. But! I have at last read it—savored it. I so greatly enjoyed Smith’s poetic voice and her obsession over Rimbaud. I liked reading about Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe’s relationship, their strivings toward art, their fashion! And I was so happy to discover that in addition to the Allen Ginsberg connection, Smith also befriended poet Gregory Corso, whose poetry I revere.
Patti Smith also began a relationship with Sam Shepard, and they end up collaborating on a play together. I find great reassurance in reading their exchange. Smith was nervous about the prospect of improvising during the play, and on page 185 of the first edition (HarperCollins, 2010), Smith asked, “What if I mess it up? What if I screw up the rhythm?” Shepard replied:
“You can’t,” he said. “It’s like drumming. If you miss a beat, you create another.”
From Just Kids I learned a lot about being part of the “scene,” which comes across as important to the evolution and success of one’s career. However, this little line spoken by Sam Shepard is a solid reminder that in writing and in life the beat goes on. If you miss a beat, you improvise and create another.
Stephanie Nikolopoulos 