Monday, September 15, 2003
all the time driving across the country with no computer, etc.
but thanks for continuing the thread, poet/novelist, etc.
Frank, you ask at one point about poets writing plays. now, this is my own little theory, but i really believe, feel, that it's the closest form of writing a poet can do that resembles poetry. taking into consideration the oral management of the line and the creation of character, story, or even a non-story play, but by way of a speaking voice. of course, this is not true for all poets, i'm sure we'd agree.
it's true for me though. and i love plays, all kinds of them. Come Back to the Five and Dime Jimmy Dean Jimmy Dean has always been a favorite. Kevin Killian just told me he thinks it's a bad play, but that it's good because it's bad. i guess i like it in that weird gay way gay men like torch songs. i mean, it is afterall a play whose Broadway cast included Cher, Karen Black, Sandy Dennis, Sudie Bond, and Kathy Bates. Karen Black without a doubt the best of the long lost transexuals.
speaking of transexuals, Maggie and i heard a female to male transexual novelist give a reading tonight. really fantastic, making me so happy that i was there for it. he/she was wearing suspenders with all his/her scars showing. a rather unique exploration of gender, of anger, of surprise for tastes in sex changing with the sex change in the writing.
how did i get here?
i was supposed to be talking about novelists. plays. all that.
anyway, i can't wait to see what kind of fiction you'll write Chris. i admire your poetry and i'm sure you'll be yet another in a series of poets i know who will blow our minds with the genre.
Renee Gladman was reading from her novel the other night, and i loved it. oh geeze i keep saying "i loved it" as though i feel the need to prove that i'm okay with novelists.
i'm glad i'm maturing. is that what it is that's happening to me? hmmm. i really don't know if that's what's happening. could be. i hope i don't grow up too much too fast. or all the way. just enough to be tolerant and explorative about the WHOLE of writing. i don't want this blog to be therapy, that's weird, and not what i want but you understand what i'm saying.
Tom Devaney has helped me see all kinds of writing for poets as, okay. yeah. THANK GOD i'm no longer stuck in my idiotic idea of poets not writing prose, that superstition. even though i hiccup it back once in awhile, which makes Maggie crazy. i'm surprised she hasn't punched me yet. i know i deserve it, and will try not to complain too much if she does.
oh, hey, Kevin Killian just told me tonight that Chris Stroffolino has moved to San Francisco. i knew he was in California, but he just recently moved to the Mission in San Fran, so, i'm going to try to see him this week. should be interesting, as any visit with Stroffolino is interesting.
Kevin Killian and Dodie Bellamy showed us their deck of tarot cards Jack Spicer helped design. in fact, we just came from their apartment. wow. it's quite a deck of cards. lots and lots of penises for wands, etc., very nice, and strange.
they have quite a collection of art. amazing stuff. an original Joe Brainard, a Susan Cole, all kinds of collages and paintings. and of course the Spicer tarot deck which there were only 100 copies printed.
only 100 copies! that's crazy. i mean, c'mon! why can't we ALL have some penis divination on the coffee table?
oh, and the poet Wendy Kramer has moved here as well. she's interesting. and i asked her tonight if she misses New York. without thinking she shook her head and said NO, said she never thinks about that city at all.
i can see in Maggie's eyes that this is her home. and i'm kind of having too much of a good time here, to be honest. i wandered into a Science Fiction bookstore today and there was a book reading and there were about forty of the sexiest nerds i've ever seen in my life, and i have a date with a man i met there. it's almost too much to withstand to be honest, all this nerd activity. the nerd meter has swung WAY off its known course in my book.
but i miss Philadelphia. i'm thinking about the Franklinia trees in bloom at the John Bartram garden right now. and wish i could see them. yeah.
i want to get back into talking about plays/novels by poets, but can't. maybe i've said all i can say about it right now.
Dodie Bellamy just gave me a copy of her prose called CUNT UPS and it's so much fun to read! very strange, salacious stuff! see, here i go again talking about how great prose is, as though i'm an alcoholic who is trying to prove to his boss that coffee is just GREAT, really, it's great. but it is. not coffee, you know what i mean.
i have to 2nd Frank's feelings for Joseph Torra. although i haven't read the entire book GASOLINE, it's a beautiful read.
hope you all are well,