First Thought Best Thought

Allen's POV:

I was laying on the couch when my father came in. He held something, a letter. 'This came for you.' He said. I stood up and grabbed the letter. 'I didn't know you signed in.' 'Well I didn't want mom to know. She would worry even though I'm not even sure if I got in.' 'Well open the letter then!' My father replied. I opened it quickly and read it. 'I got in!' 'You got in?!' 'I got into Columbia University! I'm going to tell mom!' I ran upstairs to my mothers room. She's not doing well. A lot of people think she's crazy. When I came in she sat on the ground in silence. 'Mom?' she looked up to me. 'You've got to get me out of here. He nailed the windows shut while I was in the bath.' I took a breath and sat next to her. 'Dad didn't do that. I nailed the windows shut because you're not right.' 'Sshh Allen he can hear you.' 'Come here, mom. Get up. You need to relax.' I stood up, took her hand and hugged her. 'Don't ever leave me.' She said with a quiet voice.

A week had passed and it was finally time to go to Columbia University. It was big, busy, but above all, beautiful. After I put my stuff in my room, I went to the first class.

'Rhyme, meter, conceit, all these things form a balance. Without that balance a poem becomes bad.' I raised my hand. 'Then how do you explain Whitman? He hated rhyme and meter. The whole point was untucking your shirt.' My professor looked at me and frowned. 'What's you name?' 'Allen Ginsberg.' I said with a bit of nerve in my voice.

A tough day had passed so I went to the dorm room. A blond guy sat in a chair, drinking a whiskey. He was playing music. I decided to start a conversation. 'Brahms?' He looked at me and smiled. 'Finally! An oases in this wasteland!' 'How come you're not at the social?' I asked nervously. 'Only the most anti-social have to go to an event actually called one.' He said. I chuckled. There was an awkward silence for a few seconds. Until I said: 'Ehm, I just came in to put this away.' The boy stood up and walked towards me like he was in a hurry. 'Let me see that.' 'It's not that special.' He didn't answer me and just kept looking at the papers. 'Are you a writer?' He looked up with an open smile. 'Cause I've got a job for a writer. I'm Lucien by the way. Lucien Carr.' We stared at each other. Until I heard a voice, shouting. 'Ginsberg, Ginsberg!' 'Isn't that you?' Lucien asked. I got annoyed and said: 'What?!' 'Phone call!' I got as a reply. I walked downstairs and took the phone. 'Hello?' I heard a woman's voice. 'I found the wires. He's trying to get inside my head.' 'Dad is not trying to get inside your head alright? Where is he?' 'He left. Promise you'll be here tonight. I need you.' I wanted to but I couldn't. Then I realised that my mother needs it. 'Ok, I promise.' I hung up. When I turned around, Lucien stood right before me. 'Are you going to the dance?' I asked. 'No, downtown. Coming?'

I followed him to the edge of the world. We walked upon a crowed stairs into a West Village apartment. The sound of a party spill out onto the landing and beyond. Lucien stopped in the doorway to let me through. I saw smoke, artists flirting, arguing. 'Allen in wonderland.' Lucien said. He grabbed a young girl and kissed her passionately, then let's her go and keeps walking. 'Do you know her?' I asked with a bit of disgust. Lucien started to talk with a low voice. 'No and I don't want to. She tasted like alcohol mixed with a lot of coffee and cigarettes. Now come on. I want you to meet our host.' He took my right hand and dragged me with him.

'David, my man!' An older guy turned around. When he saw Lucien, he got an open smile on his face. 'Lucien! You're just in time.' Then he looked at me. 'And you are?' 'Allen.' 'Allen! Who comes uninvited to my party.' Lucien stopped him. 'Actually I invited him.' He looked at Lucien in a way I didn't understand. But Lucien did. He walked away, towards the other side of the room.

'So you've met Lucien in the lunch line and now he's all that you can see.' David said. He looked at me with intimidating eyes. 'Why don't you like me?' I asked. Before he could answer me, Lucien came back. 'Some earjob at the bar just called me boy so I stole his drink.' He said while he was laughing.