as I age

it seems repetition & rime become part of life. today I went to our historic Plaza Theater for an offering in a local music festival. it was Dee Dee Bridgewater & she was sublime. I first heard her at Kent State in 1973. she was young & I was young. I got to talk with her during that visit. I still remember us at the bottom of that large staircase in the Student Center but I no longer recall a single moment of our conversation. abt a year & a half later I saw her on Broadway in her Tony-winning role in "The Wiz." then on Broadway again in 1979 & yet another musical on stage in Century City in 1982. the next 2 times were jazz concerts: Albuquerque (1998) & Santa Fe (2011). & now...... today. as all of the other times I heard her she was at the top of her form. I'm not a big fan of scat singing but she is such a master my face was one big smile thruout. it's not fair to comment on a single song when she gave everything to each one. however I must mention her "Honeysuckle Rose." it was a one-act play in the middle of the show. she rivals Anita O'Day whose interpretation has long been my favorite. so the concert was memorable on its own. but the fact that I've heard Bridgewater so many memorable times in nearly a half century adds significance for me. she repeats over the years in a way I love.

(H. Les Brown photo borrowd from Facebook)

Digit Print Bookmarks

I love the creative process. this morning I had to cut a sheet of card stock to make the smaller canvases for my "Circles" series. from each sheet there remains a pair of strips. I throw nothing away because I find often even strips inspire new pieces. this morning I lookd at the longer of the excess pieces from my cutting. it's 8 1/2" x 1." my fresh eye saw a bookmark. I checkd the pile of earlier cuttings & found I had 20. a lovely number for a new project. mind began grinding. what to put on these bookmarks. stains perhaps. or stamps. or tiny heads. at one moment I was bending over. I saw my bare feet. & there it was. I'd print each toe & finger. the next step was what to use to make the digit prints. after some pondering I rememberd a long-ago gift from my dear Cynthia. a bottle of Rubinato black ink made in Italy for Cavallini & Co of San Francisco. then the real work. what seemd so easy in the thinking took much longer. & it was a bit messy. but making art often is. the actual prints vary in quality. some much better than others. but I'm happy with the result. I'll put one in "Billy's Chest." a pair will go in the career archives I've been assembling for collectors I have yet to meet. & then the remaining will find their ways into the books of others.

 

Judy Henske (1936-2022)

 

I dreamt

 I finally got an Anna May Wong quarter but it was a mistake. her name was on it but not her face. it made me sad that I didn't see her but glad that such a possible rarity wd be worth something.

but awake I know that whenever her quarter does come to me it will be worth something to me.

from the rubble comes a poem

 Caterpillar crushes red tile roof

of abandond inn

is this the casita

in which Tab & Tony

fled the paparazzi?

I observe

from across the street

as bulldozer pounds history into dust

every scoop hides whispers

but my ears are eager

to hear each story 

war

 the butchery in Ukraine continues to depress me

"Bound by Mail"

 because of the pandemic MoCa Cleveland turnd their exhibition "Bound" into a book. & I'm honord to have a book of mine in the "exhibit." yes.... you can still order it. so when you go to the Crisis Chronicles Press website you can order both the opening installment of my epic Alex in Movieland as well as the new book carrying the name of this blog.

when a blog begets a book

 

(Crisis Chronicles Press)

60 years

 to celebrate the 60th anniversary of the first time a poem of mine appeard in print Crisis Chronicles Press is publishing a collection culld from this very blog.

Arroyo Chamisa 

every day I'm thankful to be able to create. & over all these decades I'm humbled that so many editors & publishers have brought my work to the public.

it's been a hell of a ride . . . .

wartime lunch

 yesterday -- before the invasion began -- a wag postd on social media "make pierogies not war."  I thot it was cute but silly given the gravity of what's happening.

this morning with all the news of madman Putin's war it kept popping into my head. & each time I dismissd it -- until I got this flood of memories abt the Ukrainian part of my heritage. yes... pierogies are a theme in my childhood. I still recall the eve of Orthodox Xmas the women of the family in my grandparents' kitchen making & rolling & cutting & stuffing dough. I remember the cousins sitting at the kids' table seeing who cd eat the most. & I continue to love pierogies as much for remembrance as for taste.

so on this first day of the war this was my lunch:

poem (made from photo caption found online)

 Robert Mitchum

washing dishes

at Chateau Marmont

Cynthia Mayer Pramuk (1943-2022)

 

I've just learnd of the death of my dear friend. 

the earliest poem I wrote for her was in 1964. a love poem which began "Her black hair flying..." just as it will always be in this portrait by our mutual friend Mike Chikiris.

a half century ago I wrote in The Year Book "7 memories of Cynthia."

she has always been part of my work. & even tho I haven't seen her in over a decade she will always be in my heart.

(she calld this "our best photo" together)

doula(la) de doula(la)

 one

helps with birthing

another

with dying

readers

 I write for myself. but I also publish. which means I hope that someone else reads my work. in a few months it'll be 60 years since I publishd my first poem. & then there have been all the books. I rarely get reviewd & none of my works have been a bestseller. so I don't know if anyone cares if I write or not.

I postd a link to my last blog entry on Facebook. a man from Charleston SC by the name of Jerry Evans left this response:

    I discovered this book many years ago. It changed the way I journal. Thank you for this enduring gift.

I was overwhelmd. to receive this is heartwarming. it reminds me of a scene Ingrid Bergman had in "Inn of the Sixth Happiness." 

Jen-Ai: I am not attractive in that way. 

Capt. Lin Nan: Jen-Ai, don't you know you're beautiful? 

Jen-Ai: Once in her life, every woman should have that said to her. I thank you for being the one who said it to me.

thank you Jerry Evans.

a half century

 so hard to believe that I startd writing The Year Book 50 years ago. it began in my house in Twin Lakes. the 2 floors were connected by a spiral staircase I named after my favorite novelist at that time.

Richard Grossinger publishd the book in 1974. I believe the only review came from Ian Young who calld it "banal." & a colleague in the English Dept told me to my face that it was "a piece of shit." well...... he's dead & the book lives on as a document in gay history. World Cat lists copies in 40 libraries in the US & UK & the Netherlands. several rare book stores have copies for sale.

some day I hope to see the book reprintd with the chapbook that came first -- Dec. '70:Ohio -- & the one that followd  -- Swimming -- under the title The Verse Journals of Alex Gildzen

farewell to a sad year

 I lost 3 old friends.

the world lost

Sondheim

Thiebaud

& who knows how many to Covid ...

Wayne Thiebaud (1920-2021)

 

 

Dionne

 smiles in middle of photo

on left Everette points his camera

on right Alex points his

this trio of lives connects

without any of the three

knowing

that's what art does

it looks at history

to reveal connections

Stephen Sondheim (1930-2021)

 

sharing past & present leads to the future

 I met Tyson Sacco when he was a year old. I'd known his parents for 7 years at that time. I haven't seen him in many years. but his mother -- the painter Mary Ann Begland -- kept me informed of his progress thru life.

yesterday Tyson & his wife Vanessa saw my bench downtown. he was so excited he calld his mother in NY. she in turn calld me to ask if she cd share my phone number so we cd be in touch. & this morning they arrived at my place for a sweet visit.

of the many things that Tyson sd the one that made me happiest was a memory of being a boy & going to the mailbox to find my serial piece "Postcard Memoirs" & being excitd to do so.

Vanessa took this of us in front of a painting by his mother that I bought more than a half century ago.

 

the latest

this was livestreamd last nite

& put on You Tube this morning:

https://youtu.be/O0AD7ALtrnI 

sooooo...... I don't know what I'm doing wrong but I can't get this link to work. if you cut & paste you can use it. sorry for the bother. some mornings I'm technically challenged.

"Circles"

 a new piece begins

"Starring"

 James Dean is a wine

Sylvia Sidney a condom

Mae West a life preserver

we who love the movies

turn its stars

into what we need to survive

they can be more real

than some cousins

or drunken tricks

they follow us

from grade school

to assistd living

have a sip or moan

go to the movies

you're alive

bangles on a book

 my last chapbook. from Between Shadows Press. only 4 copies left.

there's more than one way to wear a bracelet

 among the horrors of Covid is the distance friends have had to survive. I haven't seen Gary Sielaff in nearly 2 years. this weekend he became my first houseguest since the pandemic began.

it was a lovely couple of days of chatter & art & good food. this morning we went to the annual Modernism Yard Sale where he got a quartet of cups. I went purchase less. then we met up for brunch with a friend followed by the Revivals in Cathedral City. there this bowl caught my eye. by the time I was ready to leave I knew I had to buy it.

the writer in me wonders what stories are hidden in each. the artist in me begins to ponder pieces. the stylist in me considers a future of accessorizing.

there were 154 bracelets in the bowl. all but 13 were too small to be wearable for me. but I purchased them less as jewelry & more as material for art.

Garold Gardner (1936-2021)

 I first saw him in the first musical I ever saw on Broadway -- "Camelot" with Julie Andrews. a few years later our mutual friend Stanley Krippner arranged our meeting.

when Gerry moved to Las Vegas I arranged for him to meet my boyhood buddy T.R. Queen & they remind close til Tom's death. 

I spent a couple Thxgivings with him & his dear friends at the Gardner family place on the Oregon coast.

in the 57 years I knew him Gerry provided many laughs & good company. his trove of show biz tales shd have been preserved in a book.

Garold kicks with the legendary Marta Becket at her opera house. I'm behind them with my cousins Regina & Sal.

Denville my Denville

 I have a new chapbook coming out. "The Dead Keep Inviting Themselves for Dinner."  limited ed. Between Shadows Press.

the editor/publisher is poet Tohm Bakelas. I just now learnd he lives in Denville NJ.

when I was growing up in Elyria we had neighbors named the Bosmenys. they had friends who lived in Denville. Clarence & Minna Steffens & their daughter Liz. the 3 of them came to visit & we got to know them. so the summer I was 13 we did a road trip to Denville.

the next summer -- actually Labor Day 1957 -- the Steffens came to Elyria. here I am with Liz & her dad in the backyard on Winckles.

in the album in which are the photos of that visit I note that they brought with them to show us movies they'd taken that summer before. so it appears as if I made my film debut in Denville. o how I wish that film somehow survives. I just did a search & found an obit for Liz Steffens James-Dunn (1942-2015).

but the Denville saga doesn't end there. in the summer of 1960 I was a "cherub" at Northwestern. my roommate was John Kennedy & he was from Denville.

& now Denville will appear in my bibliography. I love these circles that keep rolling thru our lives.

"Winter on Lake Erie"

 Palm Springs has a large statue of Marilyn Monroe in her famous skirt pose.

I propose that Lorain erect one of Mom like this:

thinking of Mom

 on her 100th birthday

Jean-Claude van Itallie (1936-2021)

 when I began to put things in "Billy's Chest" one of the first was an envelope containing a small carved dog that Jean-Claude had as a boy. in the many years since he gave it to me I enjoyd it on a shelf. but some time ago I put it in a marked envelope to protect its provenance. & it was a perfect candidate for my new piece because it brought a dear friend into this collection which represents my life.

I met Jean-Claude in early 1968 when he came to Kent to participate in the Creative Arts Festival. 2 months later I visitd him in New York where I saw the Open Theater try out his new play "The Serpent" before leaving for Europe & its public premiere. he was the most exciting young playwright of the day.

it's difficult to pick memories from a friendship of over a half century because there are so many. I remember that on the other side of one wall of his apartment was the wall of Marianne Moore's apartment. twice while visiting him I went next door to chat with her. & when an adorable cat was born at his place & was to come to share my life I named him Moore.

on my visits we went to see productions of Robert Wilson & Divine as well as so many of his own plays at the legendary LaMama & other venues. when he moved to Westbeth I stayd there. & of course there were all the visits to the family farm in the Berkshires. I always calld it Charlemont because that was the nearest town. & there's a mention of it in one of the early one-acts -- I think "The Hunter and the Bird." later of course it became known as Shantigar.

& he wd come visit me in Kent & Santa Fe. sometimes it was because of "official" commitments such as the Open Theater conference I put together & the exhibition "Van Itallie Hurrah" which I curated. but other times he was simply on the road. also we connectd in LA & Boulder & Cleveland.

over the years I publishd his short play "Take a Deep Breath" in my magazine "Toucan." he contributed to my piece "My First Movie" & performd an action in the Century Dimes.I remember how humbled I felt when he read me work in progress & askd my opinion. but our greatest collaboration was the deposit of his papers at Kent State. upon my retirement from the library he wrote "Alex saw how meaningful the preserved traces of the work and lives of chosen contemporary artists in related fields would become to those artists and for the future."

he was a man who cd feel & transmit joy. he was able to detect the worst in mankind but also value the best. he liked to surround himself with beauty -- whether handsome men or dazzling flowers.

& so dear Jean-Claude..... I remember us dancing at Stonewall before the historic riot. & for as long as my mind works we will go on dancing.

the lure of history

 yesterday was Labor Day so my mind was dusting the attic of memory. I was thinking of Dad & unions & sharing a picket line with him when I was but wee. & of course his longtime employer General Industries. I have a brick I took from its rubble in an art piece I made in my atrium.

I did a search for GI & discoverd that for a 4-year period early in its existence the main building was ownd by Arthur Lovett Garford (1858-1933) -- inventor of the padded bicycle seat & manufacturer of car parts who ran unsuccessfully for the Senate under the Bull Moose banner.

Elyria is a small town. so its history intertwines. a couple of blocks from GI was Garford Elementary School where I began my formal education. I presume it was named for Arthur. & these days his mansion -- The Hickories -- is home to the local historical society. I once gave a reading there from Sherwood Anderson who lived in town.

the closest I got to Arthur was when I was 15. I took this picture of his nephew Homer Arthur Garford (1893-1974) who is buried in the same cemetery as my parents. he's putting air in the tires of his historic Lincoln L which had first been ownd by the chief of staff of Elyria Memorial Hospital.

happy Labor Day

soooooooo..... I was researching some Elyria history & was startled to discover this claim:

"The term "hamburger" was coined at the 1892 Lorain County Fair in Elyria. "

I'd never heard this before & am having trouble finding corroboration.

"Billy's Chest"

 

page from my handmade book "Mail & More" (begun in 1999)

 

(photo by Tom Mahl)

 THE DAY AFTER

EASTERN HEIGHTS JUNIOR HIGH

WAS TORN DOIWN

no more classroom

where Miss Radachy playd Bach

on a portable record player

no more gymnasium

where we lined up

for polio shots

no more locker room

where Ed Buttle

gave me that compliment

no more hallway

where a pair of bullies

pushd me against the wall

I stash my past

in word envelopes

that fill a box

I call a book

which joins others

in the library that is me

WW2

 for me the most haunting of the photos we have of Dad during the war is this one in a foxhole.

written on the back is "Ruhr pocket." so this is near the end of the war.

so many questions......

 if he goes to jail

will he still get

Secret Service protection?

"Ghost Portrait"

 that's what Bob calld

the photo he took

at breakfast at Elmer's

you have to look closely

to see me

reflectd in the window

now

the photographer is the ghost

but I don't have to look closely

to see him

he's everywhere

just like his ashes

which Lisa

has begun scattering

in all his favorite places

& if he knew all this

he'd make that whoosh of joy

& giggle

"see

I'm everywhere"

            

lost?

among the words that describe me is "archivist." but even for me some things have gotten away. particularly there are a pair that I keep hoping will surface.

I just watchd Miranda July's new film "Kajillionaire." it reminded me that when she was born I wrote a poem called "Ariel to Miranda" which I sent to her parents. every time I see one of her films I go thru files to try to find a copy. perhaps it's tuckd away in my papers at Kent. or will turn up in the Richard Grossinger papers.

then there's a letter I wrote to Jean-Claude van Itallie describing the nite Allen Ginsberg bangd on my door. I recall I once had a carbon copy (remember those?). but haven't seen that in forever. again maybe it's hidden away in my papers at Kent or will be among Jean-Claude's papers -- also at Kent.

happy donuts to you & to you

 

a forgotten poem

 it's been a long time since I opend my copy of "The Collected Poems of Dylan Thomas." so when I did today imagine my surprise to find this written in the rear endpapers. altho I have no memory of it I suspect it was one of those exercises young poets do in imitation of those who went before.  I recall writing an e.e. cummings knock-off & lord knows how many homages to Hart Crane. these pieces no longer embarrass me. they simply were part of the process.

masks

 when Kent State University was establishing its fashion museum I was the acting curator. I was thinking abt that today as the CDC announces that for the most part masks are no longer required. I was thinking that if I were still curator of a costume collection I'd begin immediately collecting the best of masks.

altho their primary use was a practical one that preventd infection many used them as a fashion statement. even significant designers creatd masks. they are an important part of our history & they are apparel. they deserve a place in museums.

Chicago designer Rex Booth created this mask

using fabric designd by Kaffe Fassett

Palm Springs designer Cesar Julio made one of my earliest ones

this is a more recent Julio design