"blow out yr candles..."

, 

I placd a banana on Carmen Miranda's grave in Rio & a Campbell's soup can on Warhol's in Pittsburgh.

for my visit to Tennessee Williams' grave I brought along a candle -- thinking of the line from "The Glass Menagerie." you can imagine my surprise to find that very line on the adjacent grave of his sister Rose.


, 

(special thx to Garry Hawk who kindly drove me to Calvary Cemetery & then suggestd Crown's. I'm certain the hellish weather wd've prohibitd me from going to either via public transportation.)

the big swelter

St. Louis in the summer is such a challenge I understand why they sing the blues.

I stayd in a walk-up in an old guesthouse in the Soulard destrict. in the torpor of evening standing on the balcony outside my door I felt like Tom Wingfield doing his sililoquy.

yes when you wake up & it's already 80 & muggy it makes for a difficult day of sightseeing   esp for someone like me who insists on learning a new city by walking it. but one must endure that punishment to partake of the glory that is St. Louis.

let's start with the Grand Hall of Union Station. surely one of the most breathtaking structures in the nation. sitting in the middle of its beauty I began to weep. then there are the vintage homes around Lafayette Park which had me singing along with Judy Garland to "Meet Me in St. Louis." & Crown's Candy Kitchen is a delightful soda fountain of the kind I recall from boyhood. the BLT is abundant in B & the generous milkshake is brought to table in its mixing container.


/ 

but the reason I came to the dangerous ozone levels of St. Louis was for the opera. & I wasn't disappointd. Colin Graham has mountd a majestic production of Britten's "Gloriana." Christine Brewer as QE1 is a towering presence.

on the road again

my paternal grandparents lived in St. Louis when Tennessee Williams was a boy. the uncle who was my godfather was born there less than 2 years after the future playwright. in 1914 my family moved to Lorain where my father was born 4 years later.

but family history isn't the reason I'm flying to St. Louis today. the opera there is doing a Britten work I've never heard.

while I'm away allow me to suggest a piece by Wayne Koestenbaum.

suddenly I own riverfront property

after a bundle of sultry days summer officially began this afternoon with flare. a sudden storm -- complete with mounds of hail -- came & went with the kind of drama that makes this part of the country so beguiling.

the arroyo whose name I borrowd for this blog became a river. twice in my 11 years here that river has been a roaring monster. today's wasn't quite that severe. but it's always delirious to hear flowing water in my backyard.


/ 

naked poets

in a recent entry Charles Jensen wrote "I have been photographed naked."

my first nudes were polaroids taken in another century. I retain a b&w one of me when I was a grad student but have only a memory of a color one of me on a raft in the middle of Coburn Britton's pond. my best known studies were those taken by Bryan Ockert.

there is a long & noble tradition of poets baring all. among the photographs of Eakins are nude studies from the 1880s purporting to be of Whitman. they certainly look like Walt & if so wd make him a forerunner yet again.

I seem to recall numerous nude portraits of Ginsberg -- both alone & with Peter Orlovsky. altho I haven't seen photos of Frank O'Hara naked there are famous paintings of him au naturel by Larry Rivers (1954) & Wynn Chamberlain (1963). either Alice Neel or Sylvia Sleigh (or both?) paintd John Perreault naked some 30 years ago.

in 1971 William Como publishd a full-page nude of Gerard Malanga in After Dark. & in 1976 Gay Sunshine ran an interview with one of the great couples of American letters -- Jonathan Williams & Tom Meyer -- which featurd fetching photos of them by Guy Mendes & Nicholas Dean. (this was the same year in which Jonathan photographd Tom & I skinnydipping together.)

I suspect Gavin Dillard holds the record for the most nude studies. of course he achievd fame by giving readings without his clothes on which gave him the name "The Naked Poet" (which he eventually used as the title of his collectd works).

then there are those underground classics. the naughty one of Edward Field. & a series of Andrew Lundwall.

probably my favorite male nude poet study is the Joel Singer portrait of James Broughton which adorns "Song of the Godbody" (1978). James looks downright beatific with his arms outstretchd.

at one point I plannd a chapbook to be calld "Naked Poets." I was going to write a poem for every male poet I knew who'd posed sans trousers & in the style of that poet. after a single poem I gave up the idea.

happy fathers day

, 

the umbrella hanging from Spencer Short's doorknob

I see
only the handle
& presume
it's an umbrella

the poet
in the photo
looks askance

his lips
are generous

I presume
it's not
a cane

the poet
doesn't look
at me

but those
generous lips
do

& the umbrella
not a cane
hangs there
waiting
for the rain

dollar DVDs

a few weeks ago Bill Reed had an entry calld "the buck flick phenom." he wrote abt finding cheap DVDs in local stores. so I went to my nearby Walgreen's & there indeed was a bin of bargains. I discoverd several which lookd promising & have been working my way thru.

last nite I found gold. the disk held 3 episodes of Jack Webb's "Dragnet" from the early '50s. I remember the series from childhood. the first episode "The Big Crime" had a turn by character actor Howard Wendell as a Good Humor man. Howard's parents had a house only a block away from where I grew up. when he came to visit I met him & stayd in touch over the years.

& then in the final episode "The Big Girl" there was a scene-stealing bit by a young Carolyn Jones as a gun-toting blonde. this was so early in her career that the credits listd her as "Caroline Jones." she & her then husband Aaron Spelling appeard several times on the series (as did Wendell). in this part she was so obviously full of talent & so young that it was utter joy to watch her.

still life with orange pepper

, 

filming

so there I was on the curb pulling the paper out of its yellow plastic sleeve. the lead story was that "Rent" wd be filming on the plaza this ayem. so I ran to my bus stop. in town fake autumn branches had been wired to trees. nothing else seemd to be happening so I poppd into Plaza Cafe for eggs & hot cakes servd by Karen Webb (who is featurd in the recent doc "American Waitress: New Mexico").

Plaza Cafe is probably my favorite restaurant in Santa Fe. to me it's the heart of the city. today I sat at my usual small table next to the counter. sitting near me was dashing Officer Barnett of SFPD's K-9 unit. 2 tables away a woman celebrating her birthday was being serenad'd by a guitarist & singer (& this at 7:15 a.m.) as I was waiting for my check Karen came up to me. seeing a pile of money on the table she pickd it up & startd to go thru the bills to extract the amount due. "good thing you didn't have yr money in yr pocket" she winkd at me. it's that kind of a place.

while crew members were transforming the plaza I sat on a bench to write. across from me a visitor wearing a name tag identifying him as Lee Stein sat on a bench writing in a yellow tablet. he'd look up from his writing & smile at me writing.

I detectd activities around the corner so I walkd to the cathedral. extras were milling abt a bus with a Denver sign parkd where buses never park. apparently something had been shot while I was breakfasting. I saw equipment being movd back to the plaza. there I spottd Adam Pascal strutting around in worn jeans. he was joind by Rosario Dawson in a skimpy skirt & high boots. they went into their trailer.

director Chris Columbus scurried around the Palace of the Governors. Pascal & Dawson emergd from the trailer puffing on cigs. they met Jesse L. Martin. while Columbus was setting up a shot the trio walkd down San Francisco. they went into Starbuck's but came right out without purchase & window-shoppd at several stores. Pascal & Martin startd back toward Starbuck's while Dawson went into Collectd Works. she bought 5 books including a Milan Kundera. Pascal on his cell phone & Martin sippd coffees in Starbuck's front window where they where eventually joind by Dawson.

just before shooting Columbus read aloud from a book on Graucho Marx. Dawson put down one of her new books to pose with Barnett & his fellow officers. Columbus seemd everywhere -- looking thru the camera   constantly supervising details. before rehearsal he personally positiond extras. finally -- the shot: Pascal leaning against the nearly 400-year-old building playing guitar with his case open for change. between takes Columbus consultd with Pascal who in the next take lookd in a different direction. then it was time for lunch & I jumpd back on the bus.

face of the poet

the first thing I look for after picking up a new bio of a poet is the photo section.

so you can imagine how exciting the internet is for me. never before have we had such access to the lives of poets as documentd by the camera.

today I discoverd some delicious photos of Douglas Messerli.

this just days after enjoying a gallery of great portraits by Jonathan Williams.

mystery bird

2 mornings ago I was sprawld on my brick floor reading the morning rag. outside the glass door beside me a majestic bird walkd by. by the time I got my camera it was too far away to get a good shot.

it returnd today & I was able to get this (altho I fear by the time it gets reducd you may not be able to see the bird which is to the right of the yellow flower). not visible is the little white tuft that sprouts from its head.

abt a decade ago I got a pamphlet detailing local birds & became quite the watcher. but as often happens with such activities my dedication to it lessend & now I can't locate the book.


/ 

the whole world's a stage

went to town today for the matinee of a new work by a local playwright.

but the real theater came when I was riding the bus home. a woman came on dressd in plastic bags. her "dress" was a large black garbage bag. on her head was a smaller black bag twistd into a bandana. around her neck was a white bag in the drape of a fashionable scarf. & of course her belongings were in a black garbage bag purse. surely the most modish bag lady I've ever encounterd.

there are days like this

sadness infiltrates. Tom Beckett projects a sad edge on his blog. & Charles Jensen withdrew an elegy & went silent on his.

then the morning paper announcd the death of a local actress who kept on appearing in plays while battling breast cancer. we often chattd on the bus.

all the while that war keeps slaughtering people. no one wins there but Halliburton.

guess I'll go to the movies...

spanish broom

is in bloom 

pass the pipsissewa

the magazine announces: "Each issue of Court Green features a dossier on a special topic or theme." the premiere isssue featurd "film." I'm proud to be among the contributors.

the current issue's dossier is "Tribute to Lorine Niedecker." so the editors (Arielle Greenberg / Tony Trigilio / David Trinidad) are 2 for 2. I'm a slow & quirky reader so I haven't made my way thru it all. but I feel the need to call attention to the contribution of Jonathan Williams. the man's got the eye. he's got the ear. few in the past half century of American letters dare match his passion or panache.

o to have been buzzing abt the table when Col. Wms. broke bread with Lorine.

in search of Karl Tierney

there was a time when I discoverd the new early & championd those on the verge of fame. but as I age it's harder to keep up. everyone seems to write poetry or make movies or play in a band or paint.

or perhaps I'm lazy.

I know that when it comes to poetry I read less than I did. I don't subscribe to a single poetry journal. I no longer linger before the shelves of such as the Asphodel Bookstore.

so somehow I missd Karl Tierney.

the new issue of Court Green features 2 poems of his which knockd me out. so I went to the contributors notes to discover who he was. I learnd he had AIDS when he died nearly a decade ago. a search told me that he rode his bicycle to the Golden Gate & jumpd off. the slap that is discovery was followd by the kick of reality. I'm suddenly black & blue. but I need more. I must find more of this man's work. the notes say that a collectd works is seeking a publisher. I hope it finds one soon.

more noir

Roberta Teitel Zweig 

I walkd from Inn Exile (my home while visiting Palm Springs) to Camelot Theater (where "Sordid Lives" had its long cult run). I was early. I saw a banquette & sat. on the other end an attractive couple. we began speaking. she was a writer   Roberta Teitel. her husband a retired doctor   Morton Zweig. together they've just written a collector's guide/price list for Advertising Ink Blotters. we became pals for the entire festival.

Roberta once livd at Chateau Marmont. we had many Hollywood adventures to exchange. somewhere along the way I mentiond the Brown Derby near Hollywood & Vine where I always orderd the same thing: Cobb salad (which was inventd there ) & grapefruit cake. the next day Roberta brought me the recipe for the original Cobb salad which includes this great line: "a stunning mosaic of ingredients which are tossed together."

for me that also works for the festival. yesterday I mentiond some of the speakers. but the audiences were almost as exciting. there were representatives of Hollywood's past (Eleanor Parker) as well as present (director Phyllis Nagy). there were writers Michael A. Black (The Heist) & David Wills (Blonde Bombshells). there were a couple of veterans of Sam Fuller films: Michael Dante & Biff Elliot. & munching a number of Dove bars was the festival's co-producer Marvin Paige   longtime casting director who I first met when he came up to the table I was sharing with Lois Wilson & May McAvoy at that same Brown Derby that opend this entry.


with Biff Elliot (the screen's first Mike Hammer) 

out of the shadows

Art Lyons   the novelist who runs Palm Springs Film Noir Festival   likes to screen both classic '40s & '50s examples of the genre as well as later "neo-noir." this year's festival opend with an example of the latter   "Seconds." I always thot of this John Frankenheimer film as sci fi but am willing to consider it as noir. it contains Rock Hudson's finest performance & haunting cinematography by James Wong Howe.

films screend over the weekend were a mix of gem ("Guilty Bystander") & junk ("Guns, Girls and Gangsters"). several were the only existing prints of obviously rarely-seen work. but in additional to choice of films what distinguishes this festival is the caliber of raconteurs who speak after the screenings. wheelchair-bound Ray Bradbury has the kind of memory which holds even the minutest detail. it was nearly chilling when he decribd how he willd himself to become Melville in order to finish his stalld "Moby Dick" script. Mamie Van Doren rememberd Marie Windsor as a "hot chick" after rooming next to her on location. they remaind friends for years. Paul Picerni recalld when co-star Thomas Gomez sat on the edge of his bed during location shooting & tried unsuccessfully to seduce him. producer Stanley Rubin detaild cuts Howard Hughes forcd on him.

more manana.....



with Mamie 

Palm Springs

where James Dean drove too fast

where President Kennedy went to bed with Marilyn

where Ty Hardin slappd Robert Conrad (welllllll   at least on screen)

where Richard Harrison ran for mayor

that's where I'm flying today. I'll be taking in the film noir festival.

see you a couple of shadows from now.

"music music music"

Richard Lopez passd an electronic baton to me & I'm afraid my answers reveal I'm not a "with it" guy.

the questions making the blog rounds are:

1) total number of music files on my computer
      zero

2) last cd bought
      Judy Henske "She Sang California"   Jamie Cullum "twentysomething"

3) song playing right now
      nothing. I've never conquerd the art of multi-tasking. so when I write I write & when I listen to music I listen to music.

4) 5 songs I listen to "a lot"
      "Vibrate" Rufus Wainwright
      "Ballad of Sweeney Todd" Lea DeLaria
      "Nature Boy" Peter Cincotti
      "I Love Men" Eartha Kitt
      "No Safe" Shimmerplanet

I also listen to a great deal of classical music & yes I admit it   Broadway cast albums. last opera I saw was Britten's "Paul Bunyan" & last stage musical   Guettel's "Floyd Collins." last concert I went to was by Loudon Wainwright III & next will be Bebel Gilberto.

& I must say I still get a thrill out of pulling out old vinyls & listening to Andrews Sisters & Al Hibbler & Judy Garland & Anita O'Day & Janis Joplin & Barbara Cook & the Mamas & the Papas.

Memorial Day

it's impossible to get thru this day without concentrating on our current needless war & the disgusting commander-in-chief who trickd the nation into it.

may History be stern in its judgment of this man & his evil agenda.

the sounds of silents

silent films were never silent.

in the grand movie palaces full orchestras often playd scores written specifically for films. other theaters had an organ. & even small towns employd a pianist.

last nite Santa Fe's wondrous Lensic Theater hostd a screening of Paul Leni's "The Man Who Laughs" (1928) with live accompaniment by BING! this local orchestra -- composd of 8 skilld musicians -- playd their own contemporary but fitting score to a large cheering audience. it was a delight.



Leni's next-to-last feature still thrills. Conrad Veidt is superb in the title role. this German actor -- who died just weeks before I was born -- had a remarkable career which stretchd from the silent classic "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari" to '40s fave "Casablanca." if you don't know how to pronounce his surname just remember his p.r. team's campaign slogan: "Women fight -- for Conrad Veidt."

& Olga Baclanova -- best rememberd for her role in "Freaks" -- is amazing as the duchess who is erotically chargd by the ever-grinning leading man.

one funny note: there is a brave dog in the film. his name is Homo. I haven't read the Victor Hugo novel but I presume the film picks up that moniker from the source. but it's good to know that for a film of that period a Homo is a hero.

river walk

the house I grew up in is small. with me back there wasn't room for Regina. so my parents' neighbor Betty Mulligan hostd her. Betty volunteers at the local historical society. Regina & I were taking her to lunch in Oberlin where we were eager to see the Jim Dine show at the Allen. before that Betty wantd to show off some of Elyria for my cousin. she drove us to the East Falls River Walk.



altho it's been open for nearly 2 years I hadn't seen the river walk before. a $600000 "revitalization" project   it was mostly supportd by a federal grant securd by young mayor Bill Grace. it boasts benches made of 100% recycld plastic.


, 

Regina

her mother & mine were sisters. we were both only children. as kids we were often mistaken for brother & sister. much later we unofficially adoptd each other as such.

Regina left Ohio & eventually became a prominent child psychologist at Harvard. she & her husband are world travellers who are always planning the next trip. eventually they plan to move to Santa Fe.

this week we lookd up some of her old homes & schools in Lorain where she grew up. our younger cousin Sal (whose father was brother to our mothers)still lives there. he drove us all over the map.


with Regina in front of Terminal Tower 

a different sort of sunshine

I left record high temps in New Mexico for cold damp Ohio. but I was with family. & they creatd a different sort of sunshine.

my parents are a perpetual joy. cousin Regina flew in from Boston & joind cousin Sal & I for a romp around Cleveland & Lorain.

more after I catch my breath . . .


Regina & Sal at The Arcade in Cleveland 

off to Ohio

to see the parents.

while I'm away here's another poem from Ohio Triangle. it's postd by Tom Montag as part of his series "Saturday's Poems".

in my mind some things never change

in the fall of 1917 the Plymouth Theater opend on Broadway. in its early decades its stage held such luminaries as Nazimova   John Barrymore   Barbara Stanwyck   Lila Lee   Tallulah Bankhead   Mae West. it was at this same theater where I saw Alec Guiness play Dylan Thomas & Jane Lapotaire portray Edith Piaf.

a decade after the Plymouth opend   West 45th saw a new theater calld the Royale which wd host Ethel Waters & Eartha Kitt   James Dean & Laurence Olivier before I saw my first play there   "Night of the Iguana."

this month Plymouth & Royale were rechristend. both now carry names of producers.

for me it's sad. at least the theaters didn't go the way of the wrecking ball. but still I dislike these new names. ever since the Little Theater was given the name of the least lady of the American Theater I've been unable to call it anything but the Little. likewise with Theater DeLys. so I guess I'll show my age -- & proudly so -- & keep on referring to the Plymouth & the Royale.

out take

the 1956 edition
of "Map of Movie Star Homes"
is tattoo'd on my chest
the lane where George Nader lives
trails off in my dark thicket

Fanizani

over at Umbrella Jeff has a new poem which he illustrates with an Akuda.

this is the largest of several of his I have:


, 

old friends

I think I met Mary Ann Begland in the fall of 1966. the good times/bad times in between then & now are the stuff of novels. we haven't seen each other in some time but today's her birthday & I always call her on her birthday to catch up.

even when I don't consciously think abt her she's a part of my life. I have 2 pieces of hers on my walls. I bought this one from her in the summer of 1968:


"Isadora" 

it pleases me that I cd live with a work of art so long & not tire of it. & it's a lovely feeling to have things around the house that once belongd to people I care abt. every day I use dishes that were Julia Waida's. I have my father's old hand saw & quilts from Aunt Mary Yando & my grandfather's ancient radio & Algesa O'Sickey's lamp. I like that.

hey Mr. Postman

I startd writing to people I didn't know when I was 10. first came writers. then movie stars. of course they weren't strangers to me because I knew their work. but I surely was a stranger to them. that I receivd so many replies was never a surprise to a pre-teen but feels quite remarkable to me now.

today with the ease of e's I've begun writing to people I don't know again. perhaps the nonchalance of electronic mail invites it. I know that I receive an increasing amount of mail from folks who have found my work online. I always try to answer promptly & honestly. recently I've written to some poets who have sites. perhaps they haven't answerd because they haven't seen my site or read my work. altho I've been publishing for more than 40 years I never expect anyone to know who I am.

I suspect the silence that has greetd my mail to them colors how I read their blogs. just as the richness of friendship enhances the blogs of those I know either face-to-face or via correspondence.

"Shadow over Zimbabwe"

for new poem
click here
then scroll down

a tip of the fedora to

Crag Hill
for pointing me to Ed Guthmann's major reporting on Thom Gunn

&

Ron Silliman
for introducing me to Landis Everson

gauze groper

I've always enjoyd reading "Police Notes" in my ayem paper. they offer unexpectd peeps into the life of my community. sometimes the humor of the prose tickles me as well. I often wish I were a novelist so I cd use this goldmine.

today the paper elevatd what wd normally be a graf in "PN" to the front page with this headline:

Woman reports
groper wrapped
in gauze to police

Jason Auslander wrote the story. I've stolen/editd/rearrangd some of his lines:

as she was soaking
in a candlelit bathtub
a boozy man
head wrappd
in strips of gauze
pushd the door open
extinguishd the candles
with his hands

she cd see
tufts of hair
between gauze strips

he knelt
groping her
in the bathtub
then fled

5

Maureen Owen's reading at the museum yesterday startd 5 minutes late.

the audience was me & 5 women.

one of the poems she read was from a series of 100. however the first she wrote (& the one she read) was #5.

the baddest outlaw

Paul Metcalf told me I'd like Todd Moore & he was right. at Paul's nodding I startd a correspondence with Todd 20 years ago. we finally met in 1994 -- 2 months after I movd to New Mexico.

I don't keep up with such things but I don't think the academics have discoverd Todd yet. when he is "categorizd" it's as a post-Beat or that gangly grouping known as Outlaw Poets. whatever he is he's best known as the author of what's probably the longest poem in American literature. Todd began writing Dillinger in 1973 & he admits it's abt a quarter million words in length. & he's still not done with it.


. 

Todd lives in Albuquerque. last nite he & wife Barbara came up for a reading at Collectd Works -- one of Santa Fe's independent bookstores. he read from Dillinger & the blood was still flowing from his pages. one piece he'd just finishd that afternoon.

I haven't read all of Dillinger but then no one has since Todd keeps working on it. from what I have read it's a bold ballsy work unlike any other. Todd admits he likes dealing with the dark side. last nite he read a line "black on black on black." I was startld. I'd just finishd writing one of my Hollywood poems with the line "white on white on white."

I wonder when Dillinger will finally end & who will publish such a hugh work & what the response will be. till then I'm happy to know the gunsel's troubador.

overlapping lives

I was born in Monterey CA but took the cross-country train to Lorain OH at 2 weeks. Mom & I took up residence with my maternal grandfather. our house was in walking distance of Toni Morrison's. did we pass on the street?

my first visit to NYC was in july 1952. I was in the audience of a radio broadcast. the theater was near where James Dean lived. did we pass on the street?

11 years later I was at a Manhattan party. Frank O'Hara was there but I didn't know it till he left. had we lockd eyes?

I've always found such overlappings intriguing.

yesterday Jeff Wietor postd haunting photographs by Todd Hido. the short bio mentions he was born in Kent OH in 1968. I immediately lookd up more of Hido's work. then I dashd off an e to him. turns out Hido lived in Kent his first 18 years.

did we pass on the street?

old clothes

in my closet is a corduroy vest I had in high school. I'm wearing it in a picture in my senior yearbook. I don't remember a time when I didn't have clothing favorites which I never wantd to wear out. there was a plaid shirt I had while going to Eastern Heights Junior High that I think my mother finally "liberatd" when it simply became too tawdry.

I still have difficulty parting with familiar items.


, 

when & where I purchasd this Howdy Doody tee is no longer in my memory bank. but I've been wearing it for many years now. as I was putting it on this ayem I noticd some holes around the collar. I put it on anyway & wore it to the gym. then I bravely decid'd this wd be the final wearing. it must go.

perhaps I'll cut it up & use it for a mail art piece. but then I've already done something like that. there was a floral shirt from my hippie period. I remember Henry Steele Commager admiring it at some reception. I cut it up & used it for a series of collages I sent out for Valentines Day. do any of those survive? the only one I know of is with my correspondence to Ira Joel Haber in his papers at Kent State.

whatever.... this Howdy is history.

glorious Piper

I've been in love with Piper Laurie since I was 8 or 9.

so you can imagine my joy when I was channel-chasing tonite & discoverd she was going to guest on an episode of a series calld "Cold Case."

she's 73 now. a bit plump. full of wrinkles. famous red hair mostly a memory. but there she was. the starlet who ate orchids before taking to the stage & television's Golden Age   who returnd to the screen in one brilliant performance after another. & tonite she wasn't afraid to be an old lady. & she wasn't afraid to demonstrate once again why she's one of the great stars in the history of television.

when will those Emmy people give Piper Laurie a lifetime achievement award? she's a national treasure.

happy mothers day

, 

reunion roost

on 7 mar 79 Alfred Hitchcock & Tippi Hedren & I were in the same room.

all these years later Mark Young has brought us back together in the dedication of the latest in his Series Magritte.

I tip my fedora in thx. . .

hair today &

this was me on my first trip to Europe in 1973.


. 

& this is me 20 minutes ago.

since I startd going bald I've been cutting my own hair. Dimitri left a battery-operatd cutter which was perfect. but it broke. so yesterday I bought an electric one. this morning I broke open the package & gave it a try. welllllll   electric haircutters zoom. suddenly I lookd like Falconetti in the final frames of "Passion of Joan of Arc."

but I don't mind. there aren't many mirrors in my house. & for me the best part of getting old is letting go of vanity. I was never a beauty so it's easy. I remember how startld I was upon seeing my first age spot. now I'm a garden of spots & wrinkles & sags.

Towle Road

there are other digests of gay news but I like to start my day with Andy Towle.

today I learnd more abt Ken Hutcherson   the biggest homophobe this side of the rodent pope   & abt baseball pro Joe Valentine being raisd by 2 mothers.

Andy's as good as that first cuppajoe.

Ukrainian roots

as a boy the best parts of having a Ukrainian heritage:

pierogies

& celebrating xmas twice. the "normal" one was at the end of dec but the orthodox one was celebratd at my grandparents' church & home at the beginning of jan.

this came back to mind just now after reading John Perreault's current blog entry. it begins with a walk around the neighborhood in which he lives. it's been many years since I've seen John but one of the last times was over pierogies at the Ukrainian Restaurant. so it's easy to picture him strolling there.

from the personal he drifts into the opening of the Ukrainian Museum & its Archipenko exhibition. the kind of writing that drew me to John's column in the Voice in another century.

I love the way that lives & experiences intersect.

I remember Joe Brainard

over at his site my buddy Tom Beckett is on a Brainard bender.

I live every day with two small works by Joe B. in the bathroom is a gouache of a male torso I bought many years ago at the A Different Light bookstore in Silverlake (which no longer exists). & right beside me at I pound on these keys every day is this:


pansy 

here's the story: when the Kent State University Libraries was abt to throw out its card catalog I went thru all the cards in Special Collections. I pulld ones of living writers who I felt mite want to help a library. we sent the cards to the individual writers asking them to sign them. when they were returnd we slippd them into paperweights. at a Friends of the Libraries dinner we exhibitd them with an auction sheet.

novelist Alicia Metcalf Miller & her husband bought many of the Beats & displayd them in a guest bathroom. I bought this one as well as Sondheim's & a great one in which Ray Johnson signd his name backward. Samuel M. Steward wrote a line in Greek & X. J. Kennedy drew a picture of himself nude descending a staircase.

last I heard a great many of these priceless items were still in storage in Special Collections. I don't know how much they cost now but if you're interestd you mite call (330-672-2270) & see what's still available.

odd day

went to town for a concert that was so bad I left at intermission.

came home to a call from my father informing me of the death of his final sibling  my last aunt.

temperature droppd & it may snow on this first nite of may.

eerie

this afternoon I saw "Downfall"   the film abt the final days of the Nazi regime. it wasn't till during the movie that I realizd today is the 60th anniversary of Hitler's suicide.

I won't be mentioning this scary coincidence in Alex in Movieland.

Paul Metcalf

my first nite in Culver City Paul Metcalf was in my dreams. he & Nancy were in my yard in Santa Fe. he'd just read my latest & presentd me with a long handwritten critique.

in reality the Metcalfs -- frequent Kent visitors -- never came to Santa Fe because Nancy had some inner-ear complexity which preventd travel to high altitudes. & Paul never wrote long critiques of my work -- altho we discussd each other's. after his death 6 years ago I discoverd he'd written a review of New Notes which was never publishd.

I met Paul at his Massachusetts farmhouse in the summer of 1970. my treasurd teacher Howard P. Vincent had loand me his copy of Genoa & I was so smitten I wrote Paul a fan letter. our friendship was one of the most important of my life. less than a year older than my father Paul became a literary father. I miss our long talks. Nancy always went to bed early   leaving Paul & I alone in the living room where we talkd for hours. I regret I never kept notes. so much is gone. Paul was always open & frank. I recall he cdn't understand how I cd like the poetry of both Duncan & Ashbery. altho mostly literary our chats coverd whatever. I even learnd of his youthful infatuation with Alice Faye.

as a rare book librarian I askd him abt his papers which seemd to cause some discomfort. he seemd surprisd at my shock when he told me he'd thrown out the long letter Charles Olson had written him at the death of his father. he always claimd that he'd destroyd the manuscript of his first conventional novel (altho Nancy hintd that he hadn't). when Nancy was going to give me as a birthday gift the letters Paul wrote her which were used in Patagoni she had to inform me later that Paul wdn't allow her to. of course I wantd his papers for Kent & he knew that but I was careful that such a matter wd never come between our friendship.

Paul was 82 when he died & I was 55. we'd known each other nearly 30 years. that he appeard in my dreams is no surprise. many of my dead friends remain alive inside me.

from the trip

8967 Norma Place 

I WALK FROM THE HOUSE WHERE CAROLYN JONES DIED
TO THE GARAGE WHERE SAL MINEO WAS MURDERD

slope of hill to jacaronda
purple before the grand view

this maze of dead ends wd be film
noir if morning weren’t so technicolor

I walkd these streets
before I walkd these streets

in movie magazines
& location shots

I know this history
as well as my own

because it is my own


8563 Holloway