----
Friday, December 25, 2009
p.s. Merry Xmas. It's Xmas morning here in Paris and the sky is pouring rain. I was going to go walk around in the deserted Parisian streets, but now I don't think I will. I was hoping Yury would ignore the occasion like I did, but he left a Xmas present on my laptop after I went to bed last night, which is incredibly sweet even if I'm going to feel guilty all day. I haven't unwrapped it yet, if you're wondering. We're going to meet up with our friends Scott Treleaven and Paul P a little later for a toast or something, and I'll call the family and a friend or two once America's West Coast wakes up, and I have a chocolate Santa courtesy of Kiddiepunk that I'll down later, and that should be my Xmas's extent. Hope you have good ones and weekends, and the blog and I will be back in action on Monday. ** David, Nice to see you, David. MX! ** Derek McCormack, Hi, Derek! You being a Xmas maestro if there ever was such a thing, I hope you have a wonderful stuff-filled day, and accept lots of love from me. ** Stan_cz, Happy Xmas. ** Slatted Light, Beautiful Barthes quote, very. (more below) ** Empty Frame, Paris doesn't have a cinema where I can see foreign films with English subtitles as far as I can tell, but if it's something I crave to see, I'll brave it via my poor French, yeah. Not often. Have a serene one, man. ** Bollo, What books did you get? Yeah, hope today comes off beautifully for you. ** Tigersare, Merry Xmas, Guy. Jason lived in Melbourne, I'm pretty sure. Oh, I posted that Windwaker clip here before thanks to some excuse of a post I can't recall. Let me know how the radio show goes. Wish I could ... you know. Excellent that you'll get to SXSW, and I'll be in LA or in and out of LA (readings in Tucson and SF) in mid-March for a couple of weeks, so I hope we get lucky. ** Put The Lotion In The Basket, Thank you, dear Nick. Since Xmas needs a Saint Nick, you'll be mine. ** Kiddiepunk, Nah, rain, just lots of rain, the most un-Xmasy weather possible, I think. I'm going to eat your Santa, see Scott and Paul, I don't know. I think there are maybe two or three people left in the whole Recollets building right now. It's kind of eerie. Have the awesomest Xmas, Mikey. ** David Ehrenstein, Much love and the best Xmas music to you and Bill today. Oh, lots of kick ass stuff in your Xmas FaBlog. It did a Xmas virtually deprived overseas Angeleno a lot of good, it did. Everyone, there are holiday clips for everyone over on the FaBlog this morning. ** Wolf, Your thoughts melded with mine. Beautiful. I'll give that Patrick Wolf song a listen once the Xmas morning gloom passes. Better safe than sorry. Lots and lots of love and cheer. ** The Dreadful Flying Glove, You're just having the most dramatic Xmas season ever. Well, ever is a big word, but I like it, so consider it gift wrapped and tagged with your name. Tons of peace and love and pain killers right back at you. ** Tosh, Happy Xmas, Tosh. Does Teri Garr still act? If I could do a show for HBO, I'll build it as a vehicle for her and Shelley Duvall. ** SYpHA_69, You're off work today at last. How do you and your family do Xmas? Traditionally? Have a swell one. ** David Saa V. Estornell, David! You're back! Welcome, welcome. Yes, there is much sadness. The weight is barely negotiable. Well, Happy Xmas to you, my old friend, and it's such a nice Xmas gift to see you! ** _Black_Acrylic, Hey, Ben. It's here at last. I'll spend much of my Xmas devouring it. Wonderful! Everyone, at long last, the latest issue of the magnificent zine among zines Yuck 'n Yum, which has the great _Black_Acrylic aka Ben Robinson as one of its editors, is online and ours to view or download. Among its goodies are entries by the blog's own O.B. De Alessi (Oscar B.) and Kier Cooke Sandvik (Kier) and what's billed as an XXX online chat featuring _B_A himself among others. Go get it without further ado. It's here. Thanks, man. Thanks a lot! May your Xmas be white. ** Misanthrope, Did my gift to you show up? And, when you opened it, did Jesse Starr stand on his tiptoes then give you the ultimate blow job as per my instructions? I don't trust the mail. ** Pisycaca, I'd love to see that Buche, yes. I hope your Xmas is a beauty, my friend, or as close to that as possible, and my love to you and Xet. ** JoeM, I'm so glad that doing the blog doesn't involve co-workers, unless you guys count, and I guess you do, but luckily Misa is the only line dancing fanatic in the bunch. It looks a lot better than the trailers, but it is basically a light show, although I did notice on some news site yesterday an article headlined 'Avatar: An Important Part of the Ongoing Dialogue about Race', or something like that, and you want to talk about a sad state of affairs. Merry Xmas, Joe. ** Christopher/ Mark, That was really nice, the seasonal link. Thank you. Getting into my early 20s really cooled me down and revved me up at the same time too. So glad we waited. ** Jesse Hudson, Thank you tenderly for that, Jesse, and, you know, Merry Xmas and love. ** Patrick deWitt, Merry Xmas to you too, man. ** Chilly Jay Chill, Hey, Jeff. I thought about doing best of the decade lists, but, yeah, the brain work involved warded me off. Did you do a list? I love reading them, duh. The novel's in a tough, slow phase and frustrating me mightily, but it's kind of a natural problem, and I'm not worried just very impatient to get back on track. Thanks for asking, man. And, yeah, obviously, I would love a guest post from you. That would be fantastic. Merry Xmas. ** Mark Gluth, MX, man. No big plans, no. Not even little ones really. Maybe I'll write a Xmas tree into my novel or something. Yury snuck a Xmas gift on me when I was hoping he wouldn't since I didn't, so feeling like a heel is probably my biggest plan for today. ** Pascal, Hey, P. Have an ultra-merry Xmas. ** Erik, Erik! I've missed you! What a nice gift. Merry Xmas to you! How are you? How are things? Tell me, tell me, even a little. ** Steevee, Happy Xmas, Steve. I don't think I ever saw 'Femme Fatale', strange. ** Thomas Moronic, Hey, Thomas! It feels more like a Xmas now that I got to see your smiling avatar. I'm sorry things have been hard, my pal. I hope Xmas turns some kind of corner. Great about the story's acceptance in the Alyson antho! Strange that Don didn't get your mss though. He must have thought my recommendations were a prank or something. Yeah, resend it and I'll resend my props to him too. I hope I'll get to see you before too, too long. ** Toniok, Love to you too, my friend, and a requisite but very heartfelt Merry Xmas as well. ** No more teenagekicks, Howdy, Mark. I've been craving Xmas movies, and French TV is all masses and classical concerts, and I'm not French enough to have that do the trick. Merry Xmas, man. What's the latest on your novel's progress? ** Antonio, Ah, my friend and hero Mr. A! Can I get you a Xmas cocktail or anything? From what his friends told me, Jason did leave some instructions, including what he wanted to be buried with, which included his laptop, two pills, his Lady GaGa glasses, and a few other things. Okay, I feel like I'm going to cry if I say this, but he also asked to be buried with a copy of 'Try'. That just wrenches my fucking soul out of me. Anyway, shit, ... The Kenzo Buche was fanciness incarnate. No perfume, though. Maybe Kawakubo will do the Lenotre Buche next year. They pick one designer per year to do the special Buche. I'll find the patisserie's suggestion box and insert Kawakubo's name. Happy Xmas, Antonio. ** Paul Curran, Thanks, Paul. I bet your kiddo is wild eyed and happier almost happiness can contextualize about right now. ** Winter Rates, Oh, I'll go try to take Knott up on that offer. I think he and I are FB friends. Have a great holiDay. ** Jake, Hey, Jake. Merry Xmas, pal. You're doing Xmas the traditional way. That's nice. I mean, that's what Xmas was made for, I guess. I won't be doing anything really, I don't think. Hang with Yury, eat something slightly different than usual but not all that different, make some well wishing phone calls. It'll be fine. I hope yours was. ** October, Hey, buddy. Any chance you managed to have a good Xmas? Did you have two of them, one with each parent, or ... ? I'm thinking of you, man, and hoping you had some fun. ** Rigby, Rigster, you old or rather young salt. Happy holidays. Do your best! ** Slatted Light, Hey, man. Thank you for that. Yeah, there was a nominal amount of money exchanged re: the option. I'm going to copy what you wrote and send it or bring it to the lawyer who's dealing with the situation because I honestly don't know anything about these things. I left it in the hands of those who seemed to know exactly what they were doing never thinking I'd have to worry that they weren't doing their job competently. It's a big mindfuck. I appreciate your thoughts on this a lot, and I bet they'll really help. And for what you wrote about suicide too. I guess Xmas is either over or almost over where you are, but I hope the food and drink sat well. ** Uli, You and your close ones have a really nice Xmas today, okay? Much love. ** JW Veldhoen, I was going to suggest that people sing with the most feeling at funerals, but I guess there's a lot of self-control being exercised in that case, and it's more that the singer feels more rather than representing a feeling more. ** Bill, You're in the orient? Wow, how did that happen? You playing there or just being? No, I missed all the Naked Lunch 50th events here. I was in London doing 'Jerk' at the time. I looked at the evidence of what happened online and, frankly, it didn't seem like what happened here was a must of any kind. ** Alan, Yeah, very much, yeah. Beautiful big Wallace Berman pictures over there. Everyone, some great Wallace Berman works and/or photos of work are very viewable thanks to a tip from Alan right here. ** Chris, Yeah, I think either do the whole trad Xmas hog or be alone on Xmas. No half-assed stuff. Great about the Zorn gig! I get there on the 6th, apparently staying near Canal Street somewhere. Well, yeah, we should definitely meet and figure out how and what 'Them' is going to be and entail at the very least if not try to make some actual progress while I'm there if you and/or Ish are up for that. I suspect Ish is up for that. Happy Xmas to you too, C. ** Alec Niedenthal, Hey. First, let me try this: Everyone, Alec Niedenthal has a ticket to see 'Jerk' in NYC on the 7th, but he wants to see the show on the 9th instead. Does anyone reading this half a ticket for the 9th that they'd be up for swapping with Alec's. Please let Alec know via one of this blog's comments areas or directly to him if you know how to reach him directly. Thanks! Otherwise, I know my agent wants to go on the 7th, but he doesn't have a ticket to swap. Still, I'm pretty sure he'd buy it off of you, worst comes to worst. Vic Chestnutt died? Oh, shit. I didn't know that. Oh, that's sad news. Ugh. Anyway, grr, you take care and MX! ** NB/Santa, I want your tired, your poor, your hungry. Who am I kidding? I want 100 billion dollars tax free. Your brother is a Xmas gift giving card. I'm doing almost zip today. I'm so without things to do that I'm doing the p.s. today. Here's a hug back. Feel it? ** Inthemostpeculiarway, Catty the Cat, ha ha, yes. That really cheered me up. Thank god you got out of watching 'Mamma Mia'. I think ABBA are sublime geniuses, and that movie is nothing but swine before pearls. Although watching Meryl Streep throw herself into such an embarrassing role super trooper-style is kind of moving. 'Deconstructing Harry', on the other hand, yum. I appreciate the link, and Merry Xmas, but I'm one of those rare people who cannot stand 'Sex in the City', so it'll be a thought that counts kind of thing. My Xmas Eve: Another dud, I fear. It's hard to have an interesting day when it's brr cold outside and all your friends are either out of town, out of the country, or otherwise engaged, and even Yury was at work. So what did I do exactly, if I can remember? Shopped (food), showered, bought cigarettes, smoked, ate, wrote, worked on blog. My sister suddenly decided to join Facebook. I found out because she friended me, and she just doesn't seem like the Facebook type, so that was a surprise. If you were on Facebook or were willing to admit you are on Facebook right now as the case may be, I'd say friend her. Cindy Reding is her name. I called my friend Scott and said let's hang out a little for Xmas, and he said sure, and when I finish doing this, I'm going to call and see if he still wants to hang out, and, if he does, we'll do something, I guess. I missed a bunch of my LA friends. I tried to find something Xmas-y on TV, but nothing on the four channels my TV can pick up was Xmas-y enough for me. I'd say all of that was about the entire story of my Xmas Eve. Today isn't exactly promising on my end either, but, you know me, I'll try. But you should have Xmas Day stuff galore to tell me on Monday, I know. I'm counting on it. ** Frank Jaffe, Hey, Frank. I'm guessing your mom is okay with intense stuff, right? Because there are a fair amount of people seem to think 'Jerk' is pretty disturbing. It doesn't seem like it to me, but I'm no judge. Yep, exactly on 'Avatar'. I'm right there with you. You know what, eggnog sounds so incredibly good right now, and I don't think the French do eggnog, which sucks. If you did anything festive today, I hope it was very festive indeed. ** Alyssa Nolan, Merry Xmas, Alyssa. Oh, I really liked 'The Cell'. I think I've seen it, like, three times even. I'm absolutely going to go find 'The Fall' somewhere. That's something to look forward to, thanks! What brought me to Paris? Very long story, but, brief version, my boyfriend Yury is Russian, and the US wouldn't give him a visa even to enter the country as a tourist much less for any other reason. He was denied visas twice -- one a tourist visa and the other a student visa. 80% of Russians were denied US visas for no reason at all during the Bush era. So moving here was a decision to be with him since France is on very good terms with Russia, and he was able to get a French visa without much problem. So we both moved here planning to only be here long enough to get him a US visa, which we thought would take about six months, but, four and a half years later, we're still here, and he still hasn't been granted a US visa. So that was why I came. But tangentially, I'm the world's biggest Francophile, and living in Paris had been one of my lifelong dreams, and being here has allowed Gisele Vienne and I to create all the theater works we have, so there are a number of reasons I'm here now, but the US visa hell was the original reason that I made the move. ** Oscar B., Merry Xmas, Oscar, from the dead still, hollowed out Recollets. Like I was telling KP, we've got a world of pouring rain today, which is no fun at all. Enjoy your snow, and opens lots of amazing gifts, and tell me all about it, okay? Love supreme to you. ** Okay, dig your long weekend, and I'll see you back here in almost this very spot on Monday. In the meantime, accept my Xmas gift of trees and trees for days.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
In memory of Jason Parsons (24.12.1989 - 7.12.2009) with love from Jeremy and Dayne
----
'Hi Dennis, I’m not sure you will even read this. A boy Jason who was very important to me recently committed suicide. He was a fanatical fan, got me onto your work. He was so madly in love with Ziggy. It’s so horrible referring to him in the past tense. He was a boy from your mind, adorable, skinny, pale, troubled, corrupt, special and unfortunately doomed. I guess I’m attempting to ask you to maybe mention him on your blog. A Christmas present or an attempt to acknowledge him, I just need to do something. People need to know about him, even if it’s for a fleeting moment on the internet. Funny enough he would dig that idea, fifteen minuets of fame for a trashy tragic boy. I think I loved him, I guess I don't know what love is? This is all too grown-up. Were participators involved in some adult show? What a gloomy Sunday.'
-- Jeremy Camilleri
*
This is something I wrote for Jason when I was fifteen. He really liked it and I forgot that I had even written it until he showed me it in his computer this year. I used to call him my gravity, because the love I felt was as logical as it was complex.
The spillage drips, dribbles down the indents of the ribs, pools like dark glossy ink across his sunken stomach, crawling to lower ground over the landscape of bone and milk white flesh, jetting like adders.
The blood is burning the skin, is heavy like liquid lead.
His touch is like a cats to cream. Soon his bottom lip is dappled with the scarlet, then buds are dripping off his chin, onto his throat. He flex’s his wings, then beats them softly, they cup with the gentle cold wind.
They are tipped off the cloud. Falling; both their wings wrapping around them.
Gravity shifts. Blood droplets fly up, scatter across his face like rose petals. Blotting his cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids.
Wind whistles.
Their pearly wings are staining black.
Their skin is bruising, decaying.
They are dying.
The wind blows through them.
Their limbs are limp and wet. A halo of dull, pale flames are dancing on their heads. Their hands are on each others flesh, yet barley touching.
The touch of a ghost.
An endless sheet of sea is suddenly pulled under them. It swirls silently, green water laced with white foam.
They hit. At first it feels solid, melts to liquid.
His pupils are beads of jet, pearls you can lift with your fingertips.
Their wings keep them afloat, yet slowly they are submerged.
The fallen angels.
The water turns red with blood. All that’s left above the water is a limp finger, which soon is swallowed by the water.
Underneath, the water folds like origami into a pale yet dark ivory vault. A tomb. Here it is dry, it is cold. They are breathless, panting, shivering. Their fingers knotted in each others.
Soon, they know, their heartbeats will fade, then stop. Soon, they know, it will be time to surrender. And soon, they know, they will be together.
…
A download link to a manga we loved; “Boys Next Door” by Kaori Yuki:
http://sakuracrisis.ukepile.com/projects/complete/boys-next-door/
I love you Jase.
Dayne.
xx
*
My sweet prince, Mama is gonna miss you so much my beautiful boy. I am so proud of you sweetie. Love always my darling - Mama. xoxox
*
'The Funeral Service to celebrate the life of Jason William Parsons will be held in the Chapel of the Conway Funeral Home, 20 South St, Wodonga on MONDAY (Dec. 21, 2009) to commence at 10.00 a.m. At the conclusion of this Service the cortege will leave for a burial in the Wodonga Lawn Cemetery. No flowers by family request, if so desired a donation in memory of Jason to Beyondblue would be appreciated, envelopes available at the Chapel. In respect of Jason's own wishes you are requested to "Dress to the Nines" and in "black and white only".' -- The Herald Sun
Jason Parsons
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Location: Melbourne : Australia
About Me
A dreamer.
Interests
Fashion Photography Graphic design The internet Music Love.
Favorite Movies
Suburban Mayhem Factory Girl Mysterious Skin Kill Bill Pulp Fiction Otto Mean Girls Cruel Intentions Jawbreaker Pretty Persuasions.
Favorite Music
Animal Collective Amy Winehouse Atlas Sound Billie Holiday Blondie Britney Deerhunter Diplo Foals Hot Snakes Jeremy Jay Kylie Minogue Lady Gaga Louis XIV Liam Finn Les Savy Fav Liars Metronomy MIA Mogwai Of Montreal Peaches The Pixies Placebo Ratatat Spoon Sonic youth Scarling. Ungdomskulen Waaves Why?
Favorite Books
Try - Dennis Cooper My Loose Thread - Dennis Cooper Dry - Augusten Burrows Love of Seven Dolls - Paul Gallico
Jason Parsons' contribution to Self-Portrait Day: My Halloween Costume
im going as the dead prostitute ghost of current pop culture. GaGa and amy, who i love, plus a whore, with me on halloween.
yay
Selections from Jason Parsons' blog Sonos
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2009
I'll be in the UK and France for the next 10 weeks so there will probably be no posting from me in that time. Have a good Christmas and new years.
Love Jason.
xx
____________
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2009
If i was not me, i would hate me too. Just like you do.
You and I are two of a kind.
____________
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 2009
____________
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 2009
Bunny watch.
xx
____________
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 2009
some people dance
some people die:
____________
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 29, 2009
dare
(717): Probably, but last night was a special kind of drunk. It was a "lets see how drunk I can get without killing myself" drunk.
____________
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 28, 2009
Bunny
I die...
____________
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 11, 2009
Edward Sharp & The Magnetic Zeros - Home
Him: Jade
Her: Alexander
Him: Do you remember that day you fell outta my window?
Her: I sure do, you came jumping out after me.
Him: Well, you fell on the concrete, nearly broke your ass, you were bleeding all over the place and I rushed you out to the hospital, you remember that?
Her: Yes I do.
Him: Well there's something I never told you about that night.
Her: What didn't you tell me?
Him: While you were sitting in the backseat smoking a cigarette you thought was gonna be your last, I was falling deep, deeply in love with you, and I never told you til just now.
____________
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 9, 2009
Photography
Except for the obvious ones, Most of these have not been photoshopped.
----
'Hi Dennis, I’m not sure you will even read this. A boy Jason who was very important to me recently committed suicide. He was a fanatical fan, got me onto your work. He was so madly in love with Ziggy. It’s so horrible referring to him in the past tense. He was a boy from your mind, adorable, skinny, pale, troubled, corrupt, special and unfortunately doomed. I guess I’m attempting to ask you to maybe mention him on your blog. A Christmas present or an attempt to acknowledge him, I just need to do something. People need to know about him, even if it’s for a fleeting moment on the internet. Funny enough he would dig that idea, fifteen minuets of fame for a trashy tragic boy. I think I loved him, I guess I don't know what love is? This is all too grown-up. Were participators involved in some adult show? What a gloomy Sunday.'
-- Jeremy Camilleri
*
This is something I wrote for Jason when I was fifteen. He really liked it and I forgot that I had even written it until he showed me it in his computer this year. I used to call him my gravity, because the love I felt was as logical as it was complex.
The spillage drips, dribbles down the indents of the ribs, pools like dark glossy ink across his sunken stomach, crawling to lower ground over the landscape of bone and milk white flesh, jetting like adders.
The blood is burning the skin, is heavy like liquid lead.
His touch is like a cats to cream. Soon his bottom lip is dappled with the scarlet, then buds are dripping off his chin, onto his throat. He flex’s his wings, then beats them softly, they cup with the gentle cold wind.
They are tipped off the cloud. Falling; both their wings wrapping around them.
Gravity shifts. Blood droplets fly up, scatter across his face like rose petals. Blotting his cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids.
Wind whistles.
Their pearly wings are staining black.
Their skin is bruising, decaying.
They are dying.
The wind blows through them.
Their limbs are limp and wet. A halo of dull, pale flames are dancing on their heads. Their hands are on each others flesh, yet barley touching.
The touch of a ghost.
An endless sheet of sea is suddenly pulled under them. It swirls silently, green water laced with white foam.
They hit. At first it feels solid, melts to liquid.
His pupils are beads of jet, pearls you can lift with your fingertips.
Their wings keep them afloat, yet slowly they are submerged.
The fallen angels.
The water turns red with blood. All that’s left above the water is a limp finger, which soon is swallowed by the water.
Underneath, the water folds like origami into a pale yet dark ivory vault. A tomb. Here it is dry, it is cold. They are breathless, panting, shivering. Their fingers knotted in each others.
Soon, they know, their heartbeats will fade, then stop. Soon, they know, it will be time to surrender. And soon, they know, they will be together.
…
A download link to a manga we loved; “Boys Next Door” by Kaori Yuki:
http://sakuracrisis.ukepile.com/projects/complete/boys-next-door/
I love you Jase.
Dayne.
xx
*
My sweet prince, Mama is gonna miss you so much my beautiful boy. I am so proud of you sweetie. Love always my darling - Mama. xoxox
*
'The Funeral Service to celebrate the life of Jason William Parsons will be held in the Chapel of the Conway Funeral Home, 20 South St, Wodonga on MONDAY (Dec. 21, 2009) to commence at 10.00 a.m. At the conclusion of this Service the cortege will leave for a burial in the Wodonga Lawn Cemetery. No flowers by family request, if so desired a donation in memory of Jason to Beyondblue would be appreciated, envelopes available at the Chapel. In respect of Jason's own wishes you are requested to "Dress to the Nines" and in "black and white only".' -- The Herald Sun
Jason Parsons
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Location: Melbourne : Australia
About Me
A dreamer.
Interests
Fashion Photography Graphic design The internet Music Love.
Favorite Movies
Suburban Mayhem Factory Girl Mysterious Skin Kill Bill Pulp Fiction Otto Mean Girls Cruel Intentions Jawbreaker Pretty Persuasions.
Favorite Music
Animal Collective Amy Winehouse Atlas Sound Billie Holiday Blondie Britney Deerhunter Diplo Foals Hot Snakes Jeremy Jay Kylie Minogue Lady Gaga Louis XIV Liam Finn Les Savy Fav Liars Metronomy MIA Mogwai Of Montreal Peaches The Pixies Placebo Ratatat Spoon Sonic youth Scarling. Ungdomskulen Waaves Why?
Favorite Books
Try - Dennis Cooper My Loose Thread - Dennis Cooper Dry - Augusten Burrows Love of Seven Dolls - Paul Gallico
_________________
Jason Parsons' contribution to Self-Portrait Day: My Halloween Costume
im going as the dead prostitute ghost of current pop culture. GaGa and amy, who i love, plus a whore, with me on halloween.
yay
____________
Selections from Jason Parsons' blog Sonos
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2009
I'll be in the UK and France for the next 10 weeks so there will probably be no posting from me in that time. Have a good Christmas and new years.
Love Jason.
xx
____________
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2009
If i was not me, i would hate me too. Just like you do.
You and I are two of a kind.
____________
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 2009
____________
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 2009
Bunny watch.
xx
____________
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 2009
some people dance
some people die:
____________
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 29, 2009
dare
(717): Probably, but last night was a special kind of drunk. It was a "lets see how drunk I can get without killing myself" drunk.
____________
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 28, 2009
Bunny
I die...
____________
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 11, 2009
Edward Sharp & The Magnetic Zeros - Home
Him: Jade
Her: Alexander
Him: Do you remember that day you fell outta my window?
Her: I sure do, you came jumping out after me.
Him: Well, you fell on the concrete, nearly broke your ass, you were bleeding all over the place and I rushed you out to the hospital, you remember that?
Her: Yes I do.
Him: Well there's something I never told you about that night.
Her: What didn't you tell me?
Him: While you were sitting in the backseat smoking a cigarette you thought was gonna be your last, I was falling deep, deeply in love with you, and I never told you til just now.
____________
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 9, 2009
Photography
Except for the obvious ones, Most of these have not been photoshopped.
----
p.s. Hey. About a week and a half ago, I received the email from Jason Parsons' friend Jeremy that I've included in the post. I knew Jason from his contribution to the SPD, from the couple of times he'd commented on the blog under the name 'Sonos', and from a few very sweet emails he'd sent to me. The most recent one mentioned that he would be traveling in the UK and France during December and that he hoped to meet me if possible when he was in Paris, and of course I really looking forward to that. According to his friend Dayne, who wrote to me a few days ago and kindly sent along the included text, written by Dayne for Jason when they were both 15, Jason made it as far as Liverpool where he hung himself in his hotel room. I barely knew Jason at all. I knew my work was important to him, and it was obvious from the few things I was able to learn about him that he was a remarkable and incredibly bright person, and the interactions I've had with his friends Jeremy and Dayne have only proven that the importance I sensed in and from him was indeed the case. I don't know words that could express how sad and shaken I feel at hearing this news and knowing of the devastation that Jason's death has caused for those who knew him well and loved him. It's a very little gesture to remember him here on the blog, but I guess it's all I can do, and I hope that by reading about him and seeing things created by him and looking at him today, he'll enter some part of your memories, and in that way there'll be more traces of him left in the world. Even though I thought it might not be the right idea, I wanted to post this on Xmas Eve, I'm not entirely sure why, but when I learned just a day or two ago that today would have been Jason's 20th birthday, I guess that was the answer. RIP Jason, and thank you so much to Jeremy and Dayne for helping me try to cradle him here. The only other and very different thing to say today is that, like I mentioned, I'll be posting here tomorrow on Xmas day and then the weekend will be a still one. ** Jfbarber, Welcome, and thank you very much for commenting. All credit for the post goes to Winter Rates, a member of the community around this blog. I corrected the link when I saw your note yesterday in the evening Paris time, and my apologies for the mix up. It's a real honor to have Richard Brautigan and his work grace my blog, and the same goes for your kind words. ** Dorna, Hey, Dorna. Fascinating that Brautigan's work is being translated into Farsi. That's pretty beautiful. Take care, and I'll see you very soon, I hope. ** ZACH HAMILTON, Hi, and welcome to here, and thanks a lot for commenting. I had a quick look at your blog, and your poems look really interesting. I'll go back and read them thoroughly once I get through here today. Come back any time, of course. ** Val Killpatrick, Hey, welcome, thank you. Nice to have you here. You're studying with Keith Abbott, a very fine writer. Please pass along my respects if they would matter. It's really nice to find your blog. It's full of terrific seeming stuff that I'll go investigate just a little later. The pieces on Laird Hunt/Erickson and MI Fornes immediately caught my eye. Anyway, hey, and of course you're very welcome back here anytime. ** Chris (British), Are you still there? Would love to see the flickr photos, like I said, if that happens and if it's easy. Yeah, I would say either see 'Avatar' in 3D or don't bother. The visual dazzle is pretty much its whole story. A very merry Xmas to you. ** Bernard Welt, Yeah, it was hard to go anywhere back when I was in high school and not see someone reading or toting around a Brautigan book, including me. I'm not sure you ever see that level of writer or book popularity among the young and smart anymore. As omnipresent as Bolano's '2666' was recently, that wasn't even close. ** David Ehrenstein, Yeah, exactly on Brautigan's popularity back then. And those covers ... the way they popped was kind of genius. ** Chris, Hey, man. Well, Ish FB'ed me not too long ago saying we should make 'Them' plans, so I'm guessing he's on it, and I'm expecting an answer ere long. I'll let you know. Try to have a good Xmas if you can. I'll be thinking of you. ** Alan, Hey, Alan. Expect an email from me today. Oh, and thanks so much in advance for the Dora Maar essay. Maybe I can use that here. I've been wanting to do a Dora Maar post. ** Oscar B, Hey, pal. I'm glad you made it, and, oh, grr, lucky you with all that snow. We've got an unusual, thick fog today, which is kind of nice, I guess. Otherwise, I'm just holding down the very emptied out fort here. ** IF, 'Nog' is so great. Wurtlizer's books are fantastic in general, criminally under-known these days, although the great press Two Dollar Radio is reissuing them and doing their best. He's just a knock out of a writer. ** Kiddiepunk, Hey! You're there and heated at last. Miss you, man. Yeah, get yourself back here and then swear that continent off, I say. Paris is hanging in there. The Recollets is so emptied of residents, it's like a tomb. It's kind of nice except for you and Oscar being absent. Love to you, big bud. ** Kier, Ah, how nice to have you really and truly back, and I loved your list report of the NYC visit, which sounds to have been really awesome. Fight the sickness off. I wanted to enter that contest, but I clicked the first link and had no idea what it was, so I gave up. ** Winter Rates, Thanks again so much, man. I think it went it really, really great. I hope you feel like it was worth it. Have a cozy Xmas Eve. ** Tosh, Hi, Tosh. Your father knew Teri Garr? That's funny and interesting. I think I might have mentioned that she and I shared the same therapist back in the 90's. As did Sylvester Stallone. I hope you guys have a really sweet Xmas Eve. ** Empty Frame, I'm going to see if I can rustle up the one or two local friends who haven't bailed on Paris and then, I don't know, drink or eat something bubbly, I guess, although even that hope is a long shot. Okay, I will definitely track down those two Ulrich Seidl films somehow. Thanks, man. I hope you survived the shoppers as smoothly as you survived that wall. ** Mark Gluth, Hey, Mark. Merry Xmas! ** Stan_cz, Had you not read McCarthy before? I highly recommend the early novels, 'Blood Meridien' and 'Child of God', especially. Your Xmas sounds Xmas-y enough. Enjoy, dude. ** Joseph, Oh, yeah, that Vandals song, totally. The good old Vandals. I've never hit their Xmas thing either, and I don't have much excuse since I was cemented into LA until a few years ago. An awesome Eve de l'Xmas to you. ** Heliotrope, Nutty sounds better than scary, although I guess the two words aren't antonyms, are they? What a great gift. I can feel it in you. What a great friend. I wish we could be toasting the future together tomorrow. ** SYpHA_69, There's more than one John Denver Xmas album? You poor thing. And I can only imagine what Xmas albums B&N are programming right now. ** Statictick, You deserving a break .. wow, I mean could anyone apart from maybe the collective American public deserve one more? Great on the ACT progress, and the text worries kicking in now, yeah, that goes with the turf. Don't worry too much. ** Christopher/ Mark, That plant article was very interesting. I just paused and read the whole thing mid-p.s., which is very unlike me. You probably know that for a few years Leonard Cohen ate only meat because he thought plants' suffered more upon being killed. Oh, good about the 22nd being the start of the due dates. My hopes are back full force. Merry Xmas Eve, Mark. ** NB, That is weird. The prof. coincidence. Oh, man, nice blog show you have there. That's prettiness incarnate. Wow. Everyone, the spectacular guy, writer, d.l. and more NB has a lovely photo and vidclip show up on his blog that I really must insist that you see with your own two or more eyes. And that blog gift really did the trick of cheering me up. Is that show it's from good, new, old ... what? Thank you, kind sir. ** Michael Karo, Ha ha, sure, you've got the holidays to spare on the JM Day. Speaking from considerable experience, don't get too perfectionist. Remember that any blanks you leave give the viewers room to contribute and dream. But mainly, for now, just nail a perfect Xmas for yourself, my friend. ** Bollo, I have this weird fondness for the gift wrapping part. I don't know what that's about. Some hidden, unrealized sculptor part of me coming out or something. You already being a sculptor, it must be like slumming, I guess? There's a bite or two of Buche left in my fridge that I think I'd better eat today if it's not too late already. I hope the folks shower you with whatever you want within reason, ha ha. ** Uli, Glad you guys made it and that you were so warmly welcomed. You guys deserve a very peaceful, classic Xmas this year for sure, and I hope you get to revel in exactly that. Best wishes and love from me. ** The Dirty, Holy, Sleeping Gods, Wow, cool, trippy snowy beach photos. Everyone, see Brighton Beach as confused by snowfall as depicted by our brilliant artist/musician pal TDHSG aka Nick Hudson right here. You've got snow for Xmas, nice, sigh. I'll be debuting your new album tomorrow as a Xmas treat to myself. Can't wait. It'd be swell to talk, of course, and lots of love until then. ** Wolf, Hey, Wolf! I missed you. I just got to see that snowy beach you romped on, nice. Sounds like Brighton got ripped off on the snow front like Paris did. People are reading in the news about the crazy European winter and writing to congratulate and/or fear for my life, and I only wish. Vegan white chocolate? That is a new one on me. Is it a lot less sweet, I hope? It's that too sugary thing that makes white chocolate more of a visual pleasure for me. I love those new skull drawings. They're fucking great, all of them. I think the duo at the top is my fave on first look. Wait ... Everyone, the amazing Wolf, artist and writer and d.l. to beat the band (what a strange phrase), has some new drawings of animal skulls up on her blog, and they're great beauties, so join me in oohing and ahhing. If Xmas Eve means anything to you, then rule it today, pal. ** Puella Aeterna, Hi. Oh, cool, on the interview thing. You can email or just tell me here. Either way is fine. Wow, your friend does have an amazing voice. Thanks for the link/clip. That's her dad? He's so pro about his thing that it's impressive. I like Joe Meek, and I think others here, Tosh especially (?) are really big Joe Meek fans. Thanks a lot. You doing any kind of Xmas noting of note? ** Amccartney, The Buche was delicious enough that I didn't think twice about the exorbitant price that taste had asked of me. Well, there were five of us eating and chipping in, so it was only 20 euro. Enjoy your week off thoroughly, and wish Tim a Merry Xmas for me too. I look forward to following your novel's progress a lot. ** JW Veldhoen, Lightness, yes, lightness, wonderful. I love how you sound. ** Steevee, That Penn Station chaos was on the news over here even. So you're squared away with the folks for the duration now? With snow, I bet. Have a lovely Xmas Eve, Steve. ** Slatted Light, I was hoping for the Xmas gift of you. The 'MLT' thing ... Okay, there are so many infuriating things about it. I probably shouldn't say anything, but it's really bothering me, so I'll just throw this out, and it may not be interesting at all. This guy, whose name I won't mention, wanted to option the book maybe seven years ago. He was really passionate about it, and he seemed like a nice, honorable guy at the time, so I talked my agent into letting him option the book, which wasn't easy since the guy had no money and had only made a couple of no-budget, barely if ever released horror films, but my agent finally agreed. After the year's option was up, the guy hadn't gotten anywhere, and so the option expired and that seemed to be that. Then he came back a year or so ago and said he really, really wanted to make the 'MLT' film, and he wanted to chance to try again. He asked to buy the film rights then, and we said no because there was no proof that he could do it, and I wasn't going to permanently give my book to someone based on just wanting to make the film since he would then own the rights forever even if nothing ever happened, and no one else could ever make a film of it. So it was agreed by contract to let him option the book for another year, and, if he had raised the money to make it and had a cast in place and everything officially set to go after a year, he would then have the option to buy the rights. When the year was up, he wrote to say he had no financing, no cast, no nothing, but that he was going to excise his option to buy the rights anyway. My agent said, no, that's not the deal. He said if you want to extend the option, we'll figure something out. Then the guy went completely bonkers and ballistic, saying the rights were legally his and there was nothing we could do about it and just basically telling my agent and me to fuck off. So that lead to all this fucking lawyer stuff, and now the lawyer for my agent says that the guy seems to have found some kind of loophole in the contract that somehow just gives him the rights to 'MLT', end of story, and there is nothing we can do about it. So I'm furious. Obviously, whoever wrote the contract fucked up big time. And I'm furious because I went out my way to support this guy being given the chance to make the film not once but twice, and now he's stabbing me in the back and stealing my book, and my feelings and my authorship and my rights and my having helped him don't matter to him at all. And now this fucked up rip off artist is going to own the rights to my book forever whether he makes the film or not. Ugh, sorry for the rant. I'm just really angry and upset about it. Anyway, when I go to NYC there's going to be some meeting with the lawyer where she will explain how this happened, and until then I'm just left to steam. If I can get the lawyer to figure out a way to fix this by some miraculous means, I will. Otherwise, I'll just be stuck here bad mouthing this guy publicly forever, and that's it. On another note, ha ha, I agree 100% with you about Cameron vis a vis Spielberg. God, of course you could write the afterword if that one volume GMC thing ever happens. I'd be nothing but honored. Enjoy getting wasted with the family if that's humanly possible, and happy Xmas Eve. ** Inthemostpeculiarway, Hey. I'm not a Ryder fan. I guess I was when she was younger and goofier. Let's just say I know enough about her as a real person to not be able to like her acting in a pure way anymore. 'Avatar' is wowzer 3D eye candy, period. That's what you'll get, so don't expect anything more. There is something very irritating about naming an iguana Iggy, and I don't even understand why. I need to see this fabled poster wall of yours somehow someday. Purple sand. You mean that purple sand-like rubbery stuff you can mold weirdly with your hands, or do you mean actual purple sand? Do you have family stuff to do on Xmas? Oh, wait, I remember, you do. My day: It was a big, fat nothing. Really, I didn't do anything worth talking much about. I bought cigarettes, food. I smoked, I ate. I wrote but not anywhere near as much or as well as I'd hoped to. I worked on the blog. I dealt with the 'MLT' stuff that I described at length to SL. No one called, and I called no one. It was just a day of almost nothingness. Sorry. It's Xmas Eve now, so I suppose something will happen that I can tell you about. How was yours? ** Put The Lotion In The Basket, Hey. Have an insanely good time in Germany with Suicide Commando, man. What a nice Xmas that'll be. Or was, I guess, since I get the drift that you won't see this place again until you're back home. Safe trip, much love. ** Misanthrope, Thanks, man, about the Go-Go Day, if it's not too much trouble. Excellent resolutions, worthy of you, manna for those of us who revere you. That's right, you heard me. Reverence. Dig it. I still think I'm going to post my resolutions on the blog or something, I don't know, but you'll see them here or up above or somewhere other than Facebook, that's for sure. A really fine Xmas Eve to you, George. ** So a last collective Happy Xmas Eve from me to all of you guys out there, near and far. Remember Jason Parsons. I'll talk to you on Xmas Day itself.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Winter Rates presents ... Richard Brautigan Day
----
When I was around 11 or 12 I spent a considerable amount of time snooping around my older sister's room. She had a little bookshelf with only one book on it amidst all the nick-nacks. My aunt gave her the book and it was obvious she never opened it. It was So The Wind Won't Blow It All Away and the cover photo really freaked me out.
One day I read the book. All Brautigan books can be read in a day. The book was really sad and funny but mostly sad. If the narrator had just bought a hamburger that day, things would have been different. Later I read that this was the last book Brautigan published before blowing his brains out. The foreshadowing became quite apparent after the fact.
In High School I remember having these dreams where I lived above a funeral parlor and they seemed so real and out of left field. Then I remembered this book and re-read it. The narrator lived above a funeral parlor for a bit.
After college I moved to Portland, Oregon. One of my best friends, Dylan, began reading Trout Fishing In America. He said there was a guy named "Trout Fishing In America" in Ojai, California, where he was from. I read Trout Fishing too, then In Watermelon Sugar, and A Confederate General in Big Sur. Powell's books had tons of Richard Brautigan hardcovers, well worn and ratty but first editions. I hadn't realized RB was from the Northwest when I read him as a kid, but now that I live out here it made total sense. Soon, I had read everything he wrote. The Abortion was a favorite. I remember giving it to my sister for Christmas (a different sister than the one who I stole So The Wind... from) and the family being a little weirded out by the title. "It's a really nice book," I said, "It's about a guy who lives in a library where anyone can put a book they write. One kid enters a book about a pancake."
When Dylan told his father he was reading RB his father told a story regarding young Dylan and the author himself. Dylan was probably 3 or 4 and he and his dad were walking down a hill in San Francisco (one of RB's homes, along with Montana, and Japan) and RB was walking up the hill. His dad recognized RB instantly, his long blonde hair and trademarked mustache were legendary, not to mention on the cover of all his books. Apparently young Dylan and RB were really intrigued with each other and stared at each other intently and when they passed they both turned around and walked backwards, still staring, one going up hill and one going down. I thought it was a great story.
When I pulled out So The Wind... for my third re-read I thought about my aunt who gave my sister the book. She lived in SF in the late 60's and 70's and knew Kesey and such so I wondered if she ever met RB. The next day I saw a note on the refrigerator that my aunt had called. She had never called before, she lived in Mexico. Turns out she didn't know RB. Instead she offered to pay for my trip to Mexico as a graduation present from college. Right on. Oh yeah and for years I played in a band called The Lawn (originally with Dylan), named after the Brautigan collection Revenge of The Lawn. So now I present Richard Brautigan.
Biographical Snippets from Wikipedia (read full entry)
Brautigan was born in Tacoma, Washington to Bernard Frederick Brautigan, Jr. (July 29, 1909 -- May 27, 1994) a factory worker, laborer, and World War II veteran, and Lulu Mary "Mary Lou" Keho (April 7, 1911 -- September 24, 2005) a waitress. His father broke his relationship with Mary Lou eight months before Richard was born. Brautigan said that he met his biological father only twice, though after Brautigan's death Bernard Brautigan was said to be unaware that Richard was his child, saying "He's got the same last name, but why would they wait 45 to 50 years to tell me I've got a son."
Throughout his childhood, Brautigan lived in extreme poverty; he told his daughter stories of his mother sifting rat feces from their supply of flour to make flour-and-water pancakes. Because of Brautigan's impoverished childhood, he and his family found it difficult obtaining food, and on some occasions would not be able to eat for days. He lived with his family on welfare and moved to various homes in the Pacific Northwest before settling in Eugene, Oregon in 1944. Many of Brautigan's childhood experiences were included in the poems and stories that he wrote from as early as the age of 12 through his high school years. His novel So the Wind Won't Blow It All Away is loosely based on childhood experiences including an incident where Brautigan accidentally shot the brother of a close friend in the ear, injuring him only slightly.
Hospitalization
On December 14, 1955, Brautigan was arrested for throwing a rock through a police-station window, supposedly in order to be sent to prison and fed. He was arrested for disorderly conduct and had to pay a $25 fine; however, he was instead committed to the Oregon State Hospital on December 24, 1955, after police noticed patterns of erratic behavior.
At the Oregon State Hospital Brautigan was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia and clinical depression, and was treated with electroconvulsive therapy twelve times. While institutionalized, he began writing The God of the Martians, a manuscript that remains unpublished. On February 19, 1956, Brautigan was released from the Oregon State Hospital and briefly lived with his mother, stepfather, and his siblings in Eugene, Oregon. He then left for San Francisco, where he would spend most of the rest of his life, except for periods of time spent in Tokyo and Montana.
Writing career
In San Francisco, Brautigan sought to establish himself as a writer and was known for handing out his poetry on the streets and performing at poetry clubs.
Brautigan's first published book was The Return of the Rivers (1958), a single poem, followed by two collections of poetry: The Galilee Hitch-Hiker (1958), and Lay the Marble Tea (1959). During the 1960s Brautigan became involved in the burgeoning San Francisco counterculture scene, often appearing as a performance-poet at concerts and participating in the various activities of The Diggers. Brautigan was also a writer for the newspaper Change, an underground newspaper created by Ron Loewinsohn.
In the summer of 1961, Brautigan went camping with his wife and his daughter in the Idaho Stanley Basin. While camping he completed the novels A Confederate General From Big Sur and Trout Fishing in America. A Confederate General from Big Sur was his first published novel and met with little critical or commercial success. But when his novel Trout Fishing in America was published in 1967, Brautigan was catapulted to international fame and labeled by literary critics as the writer most representative of the emerging countercultural youth-movement of the late 1960s, even though he was said to be contemptuous of hippies (as noted in Lawrence Wright's article in the April 11, 1985 issue of Rolling Stone.) Trout Fishing in America has so far sold over 4 million copies worldwide.
Suicide
In 1984, at age 49, Richard Brautigan had recently moved to Bolinas, California, where he was living alone in a large, old house. He died of a self-inflicted .44 Magnum gunshot wound to the head. The exact date of his death is unknown, and his decomposed body was found by Robert Yench, a private investigator, on October 25, 1984. The body was found on the living room floor, in front of a large window that looked out over the Pacific Ocean. It is speculated that Brautigan may have ended his life over a month earlier, on September 14, 1984, after talking to former girlfriend Marcia Clay on the telephone.
Brautigan once wrote, "All of us have a place in history. Mine is clouds."
NOVELS (most info culled from www.brautigan.net)
A CONFEDERATE GENERAL FROM BIG SUR - 1964
The Novel's Protagonist
According to Newton Smith, the novel is the story of a character in Big Sur who imagines himself to be a general in the Confederate army, told by a narrator working on a textual analysis of the punctuation of Ecclesiastes. (Smith 123)
Excerpt:
Mayonnaise.
IN WATERMELON SUGAR - 1968
First published in 1968, In Watermelon Sugar was Richard Brautigan's third published novel and, according to Newton Smith, his most serious: a parable for survival in the 20th c[entury]. [It] is the story of a successful commune called iDEATH whose inhabitants survive in passive unity while a group of rebels live violently and end up dying in a mass suicide.
Inspiration for the Novel
Several possible inspirations for the novel are noted. iDEATH may have been a utopian parable for the artistic/literary community of Bolinas, California where Brautigan wrote this novel. A possible inspiration for the "Forgotten Works" may have been a Sears Department store across from Brautigan's apartment at 2546 Geary Street. Brautigan moved to this typical turn-of-the-century San Francisco apartment in 1965, where he lived until 1975 (Michael McClure 41). The view of San Francisco from across the bay in Marin County was another possible inspiration for the Forgotten Works. Another possible inspiration was Brautigan's separation from his wife, Virginia Alder, on 24 December 1962.
Excerpt:
"In Watermelon Sugar the deeds were done and done again as my life is done in watermelon sugar. I'll tell you about it because I am here and you are distant.
Wherever you are, we must do the best we can. It is so far to travel, and we have nothing here to travel, except watermelon sugar. I hope this works out.
I live in a shack near iDEATH. I can see iDEATH out the window. It is beautiful. I can also see it with my eyes closed and touch it. Right now it is cold and turns like something in the hand of a child. I do not know what that thing could be.
There is a delicate balance in iDEATH. It suits us.
The shack is small but pleasing and comfortable as my life and made from pine, watermelon sugar and stones as just about everything here is.
Our lives we have carefully constructed from watermelon sugar and then travelled to the length of our dreams, along roads lined with pines and stones.
I have a bed, a chair, a table and a large chest that I keep my things in. I have a lantern that burns watermelontrout oil at night.
That is something else. I'll tell you about it later. I have a gentle life.
I go to the window and look out again. The sun is shining at the long edge of a cloud. It is Tuesday and the sun is golden.
I can see piney woods and the rivers that flow from those piney woods. The rivers are cold and clear and there are trout in the rivers.
Some of the rivers are only a few inches wide.
I know a river that is half-an-inch wide. I know because I measured it and sat beside it for a whole day. It started raining in the middle of the afternoon. We call everything a river here. We're that kind of people.
I can see fields of watermelons and the rivers that flow through them. There are many bridges in the piney woods and in the fields of watermelons. There is a bridge in front of this shack.
Some of the bridges are made of wood, old and stained silver like rain, and some of the bridges are made of stone gathered from a great distance and built in the order of that distance, and some of the bridges are made of watermelon sugar. I like those bridges best.
We make a great many things out of watermelon sugar here -- I'll tell you about it -- including this book being written near iDEATH.
All this will be gone into, travelled in watermelon sugar."
THE ABORTION: AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE - 1971
Plot
The plot of The Abortion follows a young man, the narrator, who works and lives in the library, a Brautigan world of lonely pleasure, where he meets a woman. After impregnating the woman, the narrator supports her abortion. In the process he learns how to reenter human society.
Inspiration for the Novel
The inspiration for the library is factual. The abortion is more problematic.
Excerpt:
The 23
Ah, it feels so good to sit here in the darkness of these books. I'm not tired. This has been an average evening for books being brought in: with 23 finding their welcomed ways onto our shelves.
I wrote their titles and authors and a little about the receiving of each book down in the Library Contents Ledger. I think the first book came in around 6:30.
MY TRIKE by Chuck. The author was five years old and had a face that looked as if it had been struck by a tornado of freckles. There was no title on the book and no words inside, just pictures.
"What's the name of your book?" I said.
The little boy opened the book and showed me the drawing of a tricycle. It looked more like a giraffe standing upside down in an elevator.
"That's my trike," he said.
"Beautiful," I said. "And what's your name?"
"That's my trike."
"Yes," I said. "Very nice, but what's your name?"
"Chuck."
He reached the book up onto the desk and then headed for the door, saying, "I have to go now. My mother's outside with my sister."
I was going to tell him that he could put the book on any shelf he wanted to, but then he was gone in his small way.
THE HAWKLINE MONSTER: A GOTHIC WESTERN
Background
First published in 1974, The Hawkline Monster was Richard Brautigan's fifth published novel, and the first to parody a literary genre. Subtitled "A Gothic Western," the novel was well received by a wider audience than Brautigan's earlier work.
As in earlier novels, Brautigan played with the idea that imagination has both good and bad ramifications, turning it into a monster with the power to turn objects and thoughts into whatever amused it.
WILLARD AND HIS BOWLING TROPHIES - A PERVERSE MYSTERY
Background
First published in 1975, Willard and His Bowling Trophies was Richard Brautigan's sixth published novel and the second to parody a literary genre: sado-masochism in this case. The novel, as all others by Brautigan, dealt with the isolation of people from each other.
Inspiration for the Novel
When I was around 11 or 12 I spent a considerable amount of time snooping around my older sister's room. She had a little bookshelf with only one book on it amidst all the nick-nacks. My aunt gave her the book and it was obvious she never opened it. It was So The Wind Won't Blow It All Away and the cover photo really freaked me out.
One day I read the book. All Brautigan books can be read in a day. The book was really sad and funny but mostly sad. If the narrator had just bought a hamburger that day, things would have been different. Later I read that this was the last book Brautigan published before blowing his brains out. The foreshadowing became quite apparent after the fact.
In High School I remember having these dreams where I lived above a funeral parlor and they seemed so real and out of left field. Then I remembered this book and re-read it. The narrator lived above a funeral parlor for a bit.
After college I moved to Portland, Oregon. One of my best friends, Dylan, began reading Trout Fishing In America. He said there was a guy named "Trout Fishing In America" in Ojai, California, where he was from. I read Trout Fishing too, then In Watermelon Sugar, and A Confederate General in Big Sur. Powell's books had tons of Richard Brautigan hardcovers, well worn and ratty but first editions. I hadn't realized RB was from the Northwest when I read him as a kid, but now that I live out here it made total sense. Soon, I had read everything he wrote. The Abortion was a favorite. I remember giving it to my sister for Christmas (a different sister than the one who I stole So The Wind... from) and the family being a little weirded out by the title. "It's a really nice book," I said, "It's about a guy who lives in a library where anyone can put a book they write. One kid enters a book about a pancake."
When Dylan told his father he was reading RB his father told a story regarding young Dylan and the author himself. Dylan was probably 3 or 4 and he and his dad were walking down a hill in San Francisco (one of RB's homes, along with Montana, and Japan) and RB was walking up the hill. His dad recognized RB instantly, his long blonde hair and trademarked mustache were legendary, not to mention on the cover of all his books. Apparently young Dylan and RB were really intrigued with each other and stared at each other intently and when they passed they both turned around and walked backwards, still staring, one going up hill and one going down. I thought it was a great story.
When I pulled out So The Wind... for my third re-read I thought about my aunt who gave my sister the book. She lived in SF in the late 60's and 70's and knew Kesey and such so I wondered if she ever met RB. The next day I saw a note on the refrigerator that my aunt had called. She had never called before, she lived in Mexico. Turns out she didn't know RB. Instead she offered to pay for my trip to Mexico as a graduation present from college. Right on. Oh yeah and for years I played in a band called The Lawn (originally with Dylan), named after the Brautigan collection Revenge of The Lawn. So now I present Richard Brautigan.
Biographical Snippets from Wikipedia (read full entry)
Brautigan was born in Tacoma, Washington to Bernard Frederick Brautigan, Jr. (July 29, 1909 -- May 27, 1994) a factory worker, laborer, and World War II veteran, and Lulu Mary "Mary Lou" Keho (April 7, 1911 -- September 24, 2005) a waitress. His father broke his relationship with Mary Lou eight months before Richard was born. Brautigan said that he met his biological father only twice, though after Brautigan's death Bernard Brautigan was said to be unaware that Richard was his child, saying "He's got the same last name, but why would they wait 45 to 50 years to tell me I've got a son."
Throughout his childhood, Brautigan lived in extreme poverty; he told his daughter stories of his mother sifting rat feces from their supply of flour to make flour-and-water pancakes. Because of Brautigan's impoverished childhood, he and his family found it difficult obtaining food, and on some occasions would not be able to eat for days. He lived with his family on welfare and moved to various homes in the Pacific Northwest before settling in Eugene, Oregon in 1944. Many of Brautigan's childhood experiences were included in the poems and stories that he wrote from as early as the age of 12 through his high school years. His novel So the Wind Won't Blow It All Away is loosely based on childhood experiences including an incident where Brautigan accidentally shot the brother of a close friend in the ear, injuring him only slightly.
Hospitalization
On December 14, 1955, Brautigan was arrested for throwing a rock through a police-station window, supposedly in order to be sent to prison and fed. He was arrested for disorderly conduct and had to pay a $25 fine; however, he was instead committed to the Oregon State Hospital on December 24, 1955, after police noticed patterns of erratic behavior.
At the Oregon State Hospital Brautigan was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia and clinical depression, and was treated with electroconvulsive therapy twelve times. While institutionalized, he began writing The God of the Martians, a manuscript that remains unpublished. On February 19, 1956, Brautigan was released from the Oregon State Hospital and briefly lived with his mother, stepfather, and his siblings in Eugene, Oregon. He then left for San Francisco, where he would spend most of the rest of his life, except for periods of time spent in Tokyo and Montana.
Writing career
In San Francisco, Brautigan sought to establish himself as a writer and was known for handing out his poetry on the streets and performing at poetry clubs.
Brautigan's first published book was The Return of the Rivers (1958), a single poem, followed by two collections of poetry: The Galilee Hitch-Hiker (1958), and Lay the Marble Tea (1959). During the 1960s Brautigan became involved in the burgeoning San Francisco counterculture scene, often appearing as a performance-poet at concerts and participating in the various activities of The Diggers. Brautigan was also a writer for the newspaper Change, an underground newspaper created by Ron Loewinsohn.
In the summer of 1961, Brautigan went camping with his wife and his daughter in the Idaho Stanley Basin. While camping he completed the novels A Confederate General From Big Sur and Trout Fishing in America. A Confederate General from Big Sur was his first published novel and met with little critical or commercial success. But when his novel Trout Fishing in America was published in 1967, Brautigan was catapulted to international fame and labeled by literary critics as the writer most representative of the emerging countercultural youth-movement of the late 1960s, even though he was said to be contemptuous of hippies (as noted in Lawrence Wright's article in the April 11, 1985 issue of Rolling Stone.) Trout Fishing in America has so far sold over 4 million copies worldwide.
Suicide
In 1984, at age 49, Richard Brautigan had recently moved to Bolinas, California, where he was living alone in a large, old house. He died of a self-inflicted .44 Magnum gunshot wound to the head. The exact date of his death is unknown, and his decomposed body was found by Robert Yench, a private investigator, on October 25, 1984. The body was found on the living room floor, in front of a large window that looked out over the Pacific Ocean. It is speculated that Brautigan may have ended his life over a month earlier, on September 14, 1984, after talking to former girlfriend Marcia Clay on the telephone.
Brautigan once wrote, "All of us have a place in history. Mine is clouds."
NOVELS (most info culled from www.brautigan.net)
A CONFEDERATE GENERAL FROM BIG SUR - 1964
The Novel's Protagonist
According to Newton Smith, the novel is the story of a character in Big Sur who imagines himself to be a general in the Confederate army, told by a narrator working on a textual analysis of the punctuation of Ecclesiastes. (Smith 123)
More specifically, Lee Mellon, the novel's protagonist, believes he is the descendent of the only Confederate General to have come from Big Sur and is himself a seeker after truth in his own modern-day (1957) war against the status quo and the state of the Union. Brautigan's friend Price Dunn was the model for the novel's Lee Mellon.
Theme
The novel's theme was the domination of imagination over reality: both a curse and a blessing. Imagination was presented as an uncontrollable force from which people received comfort, hope, and despair. This theme was reprised in all Brautigan's subsequent novels.
TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA - 1967
Inspiration for the Novel
Pierre Delattre recalled a fishing trip with Brautigan and how Brautigan lamented not being able to capture the magic of "his trout fishing book" on paper.
Then one afternoon back in North Beach we went into a hardware store so that he could buy some chickenwire for his bird cage. Suddenly he seized the pen from my pocket, the notebook from my shoulder bag, ran out and over to a park bench, and started to scribble a story about a man who finds a used trout stream in the back of a hardware store. The next day, we stopped to chat with a legless-armless man on a rollerboard who sold pencils. Brautigan called him "Trout Fishing in America Shorty," and wrote a story about him. From then on, trout fishing ceased to be a memory of the past, but the theme of immediate experience and Brautigan's book made him a rich and famous writer.
The early acceptance of the novel was positive. Critics hailed Brautigan as a fresh new voice in American literature. For example, Newton Smith said, 'Trout Fishing in America altered the shape of fiction in America and was one of the first popular representatives of the postmodern novel. . . . The narrative is episodic, almost a free association of whimsy, metaphors, puns, and vivid but unconventional images. Trout Fishing in America is, among other things, a character, the novel itself as it is being written, the narrator, the narrator's inspirational muse, a pen nib, and a symbol of the pastoral ideal being lost to commercialism, environmental degradation, and social decay'.
Theme
The novel's theme was the domination of imagination over reality: both a curse and a blessing. Imagination was presented as an uncontrollable force from which people received comfort, hope, and despair. This theme was reprised in all Brautigan's subsequent novels.
TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA - 1967
Inspiration for the Novel
Pierre Delattre recalled a fishing trip with Brautigan and how Brautigan lamented not being able to capture the magic of "his trout fishing book" on paper.
Then one afternoon back in North Beach we went into a hardware store so that he could buy some chickenwire for his bird cage. Suddenly he seized the pen from my pocket, the notebook from my shoulder bag, ran out and over to a park bench, and started to scribble a story about a man who finds a used trout stream in the back of a hardware store. The next day, we stopped to chat with a legless-armless man on a rollerboard who sold pencils. Brautigan called him "Trout Fishing in America Shorty," and wrote a story about him. From then on, trout fishing ceased to be a memory of the past, but the theme of immediate experience and Brautigan's book made him a rich and famous writer.
The early acceptance of the novel was positive. Critics hailed Brautigan as a fresh new voice in American literature. For example, Newton Smith said, 'Trout Fishing in America altered the shape of fiction in America and was one of the first popular representatives of the postmodern novel. . . . The narrative is episodic, almost a free association of whimsy, metaphors, puns, and vivid but unconventional images. Trout Fishing in America is, among other things, a character, the novel itself as it is being written, the narrator, the narrator's inspirational muse, a pen nib, and a symbol of the pastoral ideal being lost to commercialism, environmental degradation, and social decay'.
Excerpt:
Mayonnaise.
IN WATERMELON SUGAR - 1968
First published in 1968, In Watermelon Sugar was Richard Brautigan's third published novel and, according to Newton Smith, his most serious: a parable for survival in the 20th c[entury]. [It] is the story of a successful commune called iDEATH whose inhabitants survive in passive unity while a group of rebels live violently and end up dying in a mass suicide.
Inspiration for the Novel
Several possible inspirations for the novel are noted. iDEATH may have been a utopian parable for the artistic/literary community of Bolinas, California where Brautigan wrote this novel. A possible inspiration for the "Forgotten Works" may have been a Sears Department store across from Brautigan's apartment at 2546 Geary Street. Brautigan moved to this typical turn-of-the-century San Francisco apartment in 1965, where he lived until 1975 (Michael McClure 41). The view of San Francisco from across the bay in Marin County was another possible inspiration for the Forgotten Works. Another possible inspiration was Brautigan's separation from his wife, Virginia Alder, on 24 December 1962.
Excerpt:
"In Watermelon Sugar the deeds were done and done again as my life is done in watermelon sugar. I'll tell you about it because I am here and you are distant.
Wherever you are, we must do the best we can. It is so far to travel, and we have nothing here to travel, except watermelon sugar. I hope this works out.
I live in a shack near iDEATH. I can see iDEATH out the window. It is beautiful. I can also see it with my eyes closed and touch it. Right now it is cold and turns like something in the hand of a child. I do not know what that thing could be.
There is a delicate balance in iDEATH. It suits us.
The shack is small but pleasing and comfortable as my life and made from pine, watermelon sugar and stones as just about everything here is.
Our lives we have carefully constructed from watermelon sugar and then travelled to the length of our dreams, along roads lined with pines and stones.
I have a bed, a chair, a table and a large chest that I keep my things in. I have a lantern that burns watermelontrout oil at night.
That is something else. I'll tell you about it later. I have a gentle life.
I go to the window and look out again. The sun is shining at the long edge of a cloud. It is Tuesday and the sun is golden.
I can see piney woods and the rivers that flow from those piney woods. The rivers are cold and clear and there are trout in the rivers.
Some of the rivers are only a few inches wide.
I know a river that is half-an-inch wide. I know because I measured it and sat beside it for a whole day. It started raining in the middle of the afternoon. We call everything a river here. We're that kind of people.
I can see fields of watermelons and the rivers that flow through them. There are many bridges in the piney woods and in the fields of watermelons. There is a bridge in front of this shack.
Some of the bridges are made of wood, old and stained silver like rain, and some of the bridges are made of stone gathered from a great distance and built in the order of that distance, and some of the bridges are made of watermelon sugar. I like those bridges best.
We make a great many things out of watermelon sugar here -- I'll tell you about it -- including this book being written near iDEATH.
All this will be gone into, travelled in watermelon sugar."
THE ABORTION: AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE - 1971
Plot
The plot of The Abortion follows a young man, the narrator, who works and lives in the library, a Brautigan world of lonely pleasure, where he meets a woman. After impregnating the woman, the narrator supports her abortion. In the process he learns how to reenter human society.
Inspiration for the Novel
The inspiration for the library is factual. The abortion is more problematic.
Excerpt:
The 23
Ah, it feels so good to sit here in the darkness of these books. I'm not tired. This has been an average evening for books being brought in: with 23 finding their welcomed ways onto our shelves.
I wrote their titles and authors and a little about the receiving of each book down in the Library Contents Ledger. I think the first book came in around 6:30.
MY TRIKE by Chuck. The author was five years old and had a face that looked as if it had been struck by a tornado of freckles. There was no title on the book and no words inside, just pictures.
"What's the name of your book?" I said.
The little boy opened the book and showed me the drawing of a tricycle. It looked more like a giraffe standing upside down in an elevator.
"That's my trike," he said.
"Beautiful," I said. "And what's your name?"
"That's my trike."
"Yes," I said. "Very nice, but what's your name?"
"Chuck."
He reached the book up onto the desk and then headed for the door, saying, "I have to go now. My mother's outside with my sister."
I was going to tell him that he could put the book on any shelf he wanted to, but then he was gone in his small way.
THE HAWKLINE MONSTER: A GOTHIC WESTERN
Background
First published in 1974, The Hawkline Monster was Richard Brautigan's fifth published novel, and the first to parody a literary genre. Subtitled "A Gothic Western," the novel was well received by a wider audience than Brautigan's earlier work.
As in earlier novels, Brautigan played with the idea that imagination has both good and bad ramifications, turning it into a monster with the power to turn objects and thoughts into whatever amused it.
WILLARD AND HIS BOWLING TROPHIES - A PERVERSE MYSTERY
Background
First published in 1975, Willard and His Bowling Trophies was Richard Brautigan's sixth published novel and the second to parody a literary genre: sado-masochism in this case. The novel, as all others by Brautigan, dealt with the isolation of people from each other.
Inspiration for the Novel
In real life, Willard was a papier mache sculpture, a bird about four feet high painted red, white, and orange with big, round eyes, a pot belly, and long beak created by Brautigan's friend Stanley Fullerton. Brautigan and Price Dunn enjoyed elaborate practical jokes on each other as part of passing Willard back and forth between themselves.
SOMBRERO FALLOUT: A JAPANESE NOVEL
Background
First published in 1976, Sombrero Fallout was Richard Brautigan's seventh published novel and the third to parody a literary genre. Subtitled "A Japanese Novel," it featured two interrelated stories. The first was about a sombrero falling from the sky and its affect on humanity. In the second story, the narrator of the first thinks about his Japanese ex-lover who had recently moved out of his apartment.
DREAMING OF BABYLON: A DETECTIVE NOVEL 1942
Background
First published in 1977, Dreaming of Babylon was Richard Brautigan's eighth published novel and the fourth to parody a literary genre. Subtitled "A Private Eye Novel 1942" it parodied hard-boiled Grade-B detective stories.
THE TOKYO-MONTANA EXPRESS
Background
First published in 1980 (special Targ edition published 1979), The Tokyo-Montana Express, a collection of one hundred and thirty-one "stations" inspired by memories of Japan and Montana, January-July 1976, that seem to form a somewhat autobiographical work, was Brautigan's ninth published novel. Brautigan, defending the unique form of this novel, said each section of the novel represented a separate stop along a journey, a station along a metaporical rail line joining Japan and Montana. Common themes running through these stations include Brautigan's disillusionment with aging, the search for identity, the diversity of human nature, and cultural differences between Montana and Japan. A few stations deal with Shiina Takako, owner of The Cradle, a Tokyo bar patronized by writers and artists, and Brautigan.
SO THE WIND WON'T BLOW IT ALL AWAY
Background
First published in 1982, So the Wind Won't Blow It All Away was Richard Brautigan's ninth published novel and the last published before his death in 1984. Focused around the death of a young boy in a shooting accident in a western Oregon town on Saturday, 17 February 1948. Although he never confirmed or denied the connection, the story was thought to be autobiographical, built on an incident that happened to Brautigan at age thirteen.
Actually, the story was created from two separate incidents. The first involved Brautigan, his best friend Pete Webster, and Pete's brother, Danny. The three were duck hunting in the Fern Ridge wetlands, near Eugene, Oregon. Brautigan was separated from the other two. Brautigan fired at a duck and a pellet from his shot struck Danny in the ear, injuring him only slightly. About the same time, Donald Husband, 14-year-old son of a prominent Eugene attorney, was shot and killed in a hunting accident off Bailey Hill Road. Brautigan's incident and that involving Husband became one in this novel (Bob Keefer and Quail Dawning 2H).
The novel sold less than 15,000 copies, and was ignored or dismissed by critics.
AN UNFORTUNATE WOMAN: A JOURNEY
Background
First published in France in 1994 (U.S. edition published 2000), An Unfortunate Woman was Richard Brautigan's tenth published novel. Written before his death in 1984, this novel was published post-humously. The theme was an exploration of death through the oblique ruminations on the suicide death of one female friend, and the death by cancer of another, Nikki Arai.
STORIES
REVENGE OF THE LAWN
Background
First published in 1971, Revenge of the Lawn: Stories 1962-1970, a collection of sixty-two stories, was Brautigan's first published collection of stories.
Unlike previous books by Brautigan, the front cover did not feature a photograph of him and a woman friend. This one featured a photograph of a woman, alone, sitting at a table in front of a cake. The woman is Sherry Vetter, from Louisville, Kentucky. Vetter taught at St. Anthony's, a girl's Catholic High School in Long Beach, California, during the academic year 1968-1969. She then moved to San Francisco. Years later, after marrying, Vetter settled with her husband in Port Royal, Kentucky.
Brautigan, and the book, were awarded the Washington Governor's Writing Award for 1972.
POETRY
Richard Brautigan published ten volumes of poetry, as well as several individual poems.
The Return of the Rivers
The Galilee Hitch-Hiker
Lay the Marble Tea
The Octopus Frontier
All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace
Please Plant This Book
The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster
Rommel Drives On Deep into Egypt
Loading Mercury with a Pitchfork
June 30th, June 30th
As an author, Brautigan is noted for his poetry which often turns dramatically on metaphorical whimsy.
By his own account, this expertise was a difficult achievement.
I love writing poetry but it's taken time, like a difficult courtship that leads to a good marriage, for us to get to know each other. I wrote poetry for seven years to learn how to write a sentence because I really wanted to write novels and I figured that I couldn't write a novel until I could write a sentence. I used poetry as a lover but I never made her my old lady. . . . I tried to write poetry that would get at some of the hard things in my life that needed talking about but those things you can only tell your old lady.
-- Richard Brautigan. "Old Lady." The San Francisco Poets. Ed. David Meltzer. New York: Ballantine Books, 1971. 293-294.
All Watched Over
by Machines of Loving Grace
by Richard Brautigan
I'd like to think (and
the sooner the better!)
of a cybernetic meadow
where mammals and computers
live together in mutually
programming harmony
like pure water
touching clear sky.
I like to think
--(right now, please!)
of a cybernetic forest
filled with pines and electronics
where deer stroll peacefully
past computers
as if they were flowers
with spinning blossoms.
I like to think
--(it has to be!)
of a cybernetic ecology
where we are free of our labors
and joined back to nature,
returned to our mammal brothers and sisters,
and all watched over
by machines of loving grace.
The Sitting Here, Standing Here Poem
Ah,
sitting here in the beautiful sunny morning!
-Santa Barbara, listening to
--Donovan singing songs
---about love, the wind and seagulls.
I'm 32 but feel just like a child
I guess I'm too old now to grow old
---Good!
I'm alone in the house because she's asleep
---in the bedroom.
She's a tall slender girl
---and uses up the whole bed!
My sperm is singing its way
through the sky of her body
---like a chorus of galaxies.
I go into the bedroom to look at her.
I'm looking down at her. She's asleep.
I'm standing here writing this.
The Buses
Philosophy should stop
at midnight like the buses.
Imagine Nietzsche, Jesus
and Bertrand Russell parked
in the silent car barns.
RECORDINGS
I was lucky enough to stumble upon the Listening To Richard Brautigan LP just as I was getting into his works, back in 1995. This video has some recording excerpts...
It's kind of annoying how they do the typing thing, but it's a way to hear his crazy "Big Bird" voice.
Thanks to Dennis, long live Richard Brautigan.
More Links:
The Richard Brautigan Archives
The Brautigan Pages
You Can't Catch Death: A Daughter's Memoir by Ianthe Brautigan
Brautigan Week at Falcon vs. Monkey
----
SOMBRERO FALLOUT: A JAPANESE NOVEL
Background
First published in 1976, Sombrero Fallout was Richard Brautigan's seventh published novel and the third to parody a literary genre. Subtitled "A Japanese Novel," it featured two interrelated stories. The first was about a sombrero falling from the sky and its affect on humanity. In the second story, the narrator of the first thinks about his Japanese ex-lover who had recently moved out of his apartment.
DREAMING OF BABYLON: A DETECTIVE NOVEL 1942
Background
First published in 1977, Dreaming of Babylon was Richard Brautigan's eighth published novel and the fourth to parody a literary genre. Subtitled "A Private Eye Novel 1942" it parodied hard-boiled Grade-B detective stories.
THE TOKYO-MONTANA EXPRESS
Background
First published in 1980 (special Targ edition published 1979), The Tokyo-Montana Express, a collection of one hundred and thirty-one "stations" inspired by memories of Japan and Montana, January-July 1976, that seem to form a somewhat autobiographical work, was Brautigan's ninth published novel. Brautigan, defending the unique form of this novel, said each section of the novel represented a separate stop along a journey, a station along a metaporical rail line joining Japan and Montana. Common themes running through these stations include Brautigan's disillusionment with aging, the search for identity, the diversity of human nature, and cultural differences between Montana and Japan. A few stations deal with Shiina Takako, owner of The Cradle, a Tokyo bar patronized by writers and artists, and Brautigan.
SO THE WIND WON'T BLOW IT ALL AWAY
Background
First published in 1982, So the Wind Won't Blow It All Away was Richard Brautigan's ninth published novel and the last published before his death in 1984. Focused around the death of a young boy in a shooting accident in a western Oregon town on Saturday, 17 February 1948. Although he never confirmed or denied the connection, the story was thought to be autobiographical, built on an incident that happened to Brautigan at age thirteen.
Actually, the story was created from two separate incidents. The first involved Brautigan, his best friend Pete Webster, and Pete's brother, Danny. The three were duck hunting in the Fern Ridge wetlands, near Eugene, Oregon. Brautigan was separated from the other two. Brautigan fired at a duck and a pellet from his shot struck Danny in the ear, injuring him only slightly. About the same time, Donald Husband, 14-year-old son of a prominent Eugene attorney, was shot and killed in a hunting accident off Bailey Hill Road. Brautigan's incident and that involving Husband became one in this novel (Bob Keefer and Quail Dawning 2H).
The novel sold less than 15,000 copies, and was ignored or dismissed by critics.
AN UNFORTUNATE WOMAN: A JOURNEY
Background
First published in France in 1994 (U.S. edition published 2000), An Unfortunate Woman was Richard Brautigan's tenth published novel. Written before his death in 1984, this novel was published post-humously. The theme was an exploration of death through the oblique ruminations on the suicide death of one female friend, and the death by cancer of another, Nikki Arai.
STORIES
REVENGE OF THE LAWN
Background
First published in 1971, Revenge of the Lawn: Stories 1962-1970, a collection of sixty-two stories, was Brautigan's first published collection of stories.
Unlike previous books by Brautigan, the front cover did not feature a photograph of him and a woman friend. This one featured a photograph of a woman, alone, sitting at a table in front of a cake. The woman is Sherry Vetter, from Louisville, Kentucky. Vetter taught at St. Anthony's, a girl's Catholic High School in Long Beach, California, during the academic year 1968-1969. She then moved to San Francisco. Years later, after marrying, Vetter settled with her husband in Port Royal, Kentucky.
Brautigan, and the book, were awarded the Washington Governor's Writing Award for 1972.
POETRY
Richard Brautigan published ten volumes of poetry, as well as several individual poems.
The Return of the Rivers
The Galilee Hitch-Hiker
Lay the Marble Tea
The Octopus Frontier
All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace
Please Plant This Book
The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster
Rommel Drives On Deep into Egypt
Loading Mercury with a Pitchfork
June 30th, June 30th
As an author, Brautigan is noted for his poetry which often turns dramatically on metaphorical whimsy.
By his own account, this expertise was a difficult achievement.
I love writing poetry but it's taken time, like a difficult courtship that leads to a good marriage, for us to get to know each other. I wrote poetry for seven years to learn how to write a sentence because I really wanted to write novels and I figured that I couldn't write a novel until I could write a sentence. I used poetry as a lover but I never made her my old lady. . . . I tried to write poetry that would get at some of the hard things in my life that needed talking about but those things you can only tell your old lady.
-- Richard Brautigan. "Old Lady." The San Francisco Poets. Ed. David Meltzer. New York: Ballantine Books, 1971. 293-294.
All Watched Over
by Machines of Loving Grace
by Richard Brautigan
I'd like to think (and
the sooner the better!)
of a cybernetic meadow
where mammals and computers
live together in mutually
programming harmony
like pure water
touching clear sky.
I like to think
--(right now, please!)
of a cybernetic forest
filled with pines and electronics
where deer stroll peacefully
past computers
as if they were flowers
with spinning blossoms.
I like to think
--(it has to be!)
of a cybernetic ecology
where we are free of our labors
and joined back to nature,
returned to our mammal brothers and sisters,
and all watched over
by machines of loving grace.
The Sitting Here, Standing Here Poem
Ah,
sitting here in the beautiful sunny morning!
-Santa Barbara, listening to
--Donovan singing songs
---about love, the wind and seagulls.
I'm 32 but feel just like a child
I guess I'm too old now to grow old
---Good!
I'm alone in the house because she's asleep
---in the bedroom.
She's a tall slender girl
---and uses up the whole bed!
My sperm is singing its way
through the sky of her body
---like a chorus of galaxies.
I go into the bedroom to look at her.
I'm looking down at her. She's asleep.
I'm standing here writing this.
The Buses
Philosophy should stop
at midnight like the buses.
Imagine Nietzsche, Jesus
and Bertrand Russell parked
in the silent car barns.
RECORDINGS
I was lucky enough to stumble upon the Listening To Richard Brautigan LP just as I was getting into his works, back in 1995. This video has some recording excerpts...
It's kind of annoying how they do the typing thing, but it's a way to hear his crazy "Big Bird" voice.
Thanks to Dennis, long live Richard Brautigan.
More Links:
The Richard Brautigan Archives
The Brautigan Pages
You Can't Catch Death: A Daughter's Memoir by Ianthe Brautigan
Brautigan Week at Falcon vs. Monkey
----
p.s. Hey. The supreme writer, master of the airwaves, and d.l. Winter Rates is your guy today, and he brings us a Day on literary hero Richard Brautigan that, as you'll see or have seen by now, is everything one could hope. Your investigation is requested, and your pleasure is surely a done deal. Please give WR some feedback today, and thank you, and thanks galore from me to WR for his generosity and wonderful feat. ** Tigersare, Right? So much so that I had to bring him back just one more time. Things great with you, I'm hoping? How so and what's new, man? ** Alexhercule, Yeah, Peter's article is really fascinating and so well done, so well put. Like someone else here said, I'll be keeping up with his blog as a regular now, all thanks to you. Who'll be eating your turkey, and what'll be happening in the background? ** Bernard Welt, Oh, thanks a zillion, B. That would be amazing, a huge help, and you name it. ** David Ehrenstein, Yikes on that Swayze Xmas clip. That I had not come across in my Xmas clip foraging. Bill's Xmas fest is a lovely thing indeed, and, just below it, that Teri Garr/Elvis clip really cracked me up, and further down, is that you guys' new apartment in the background of the Kuro clip? Wow, it looks so different from you old place, if so. Anyway ... Everyone, the writer and master of the musical universe and d.l. Bill Reed has some real nice Xmas-related and other stuff up on his mighty blog, and go see what what I mean. ** Allesfliest, Oh, yeah, you mentioned that book by that British seatmate of yours. It sounds potentially quite interesting, obviously. Is/was it? Well, if I don't see you and if you don't see me aka here for the next bit, be as merry as possible while it's officially okay to be so. ** Stan_cz, So the holidays are basically going to be a waiting game for you, I guess. Could be worse. LA should prove to be a hell of a Xmas gift, but hopefully the hell part of the bargain will be over in a few days and not so hellish. ** Empty Frame, Glad to see you're still full of life, man. I had this feeling you would be. I must be psychic. I liked 'We Disappear'. I thought it was rollicking in that distinctly Heimian way. 'Paranoid Park' might be my favorite of Gus's films, but I think I was into that thing you felt was a slightness. I think I saw that more as a fraught absence or something. I don't know. I want to see it again and see. What are you doing on Xmas day exactly? I don't think I'm going to do a damn thing, it's looking like. I think it's just going to be a weirder, more melancholy average day. ** NB, Go Alec, no? Yes. Oh, there was a youtube vid for one of those great Xmas songs by Low, but it wasn't embeddable for some fucking reason, and I cursed. Everything should be embeddable, even you. ** SYpHA_69, Oh, I think Winter Rates is also reading or thinking of rereading 'V'. If it wasn't so long and if I wasn't so neurotic about being too distracted from my novel, I might join you. ** Put The Lotion In The Basket, So that's your Achilles Heel, is it? I feel so powerful now. Actually, I've been having a bit of a hard time getting vegetables into my novel, even though, for realism's sake, I know they need to be there, at least peripherally, but I've just been so uninspired when it comes to garnishes and side dishes, but if I see them as possible sources of horror in and of themselves, that might just get a few scary green things on a plate or two. I'll try to use my power over you judiciously. ** Katsim, Well, getting up at 4 am and needing money are real inspiration killers, so no surprise the paintings haven't been barreling out of you. I'll be patient, if you will. Oh, let me ... Everyone, alert, the awesome artist and d.l. Katsim asks 'if anyone reading this does web design and doesn't charge a fortune for it then let me know!' Surely, a bunch of you out there do web design, and considering the greatness of Katsim and her need, at least one of you can help, yes? If you can, either post the news in one of the comments areas or write to Katsim directly if you know how to do that. Thanks! The Buche's flavors were a range of things from Euro chocolate, vanilla, marzipan, and so on to Japanese red bean and almond paste, etc. The main ingredients of the sauce were cream and green tea. Kiddiepunk started to play Hanson's 'Mm Bop' on the piano until I begged him to stop. Yeah, I didn't know Kim Peek had died, and I'm a pretty serious online news junkie, to the point where, even while trying to pay as a little attention as possible, I now know more about Brittany Murphy's husband than I know about some of my friends. ** IF, Well, now I think I'm going to steer very clear of that E. Sue novel. I'm sure your backstory, which is pretty interesting, i.e. the street corner thing especially, is enough. 'Decasia' no. I don't think I'd even heard of it before. I just looked it up on the web, and, yeah, very intriguing. I'll see if the great shop at the Cinematheque here has it. Thanks, I. ** Once bitten twice shai, Totally, right? ** Steevee, After Coffin Fuck's version of 'Silver Bells', nothing would seem to be impossible. ** Oscar B, Yes, you're in the air at this very moment, I do believe. I miss you already. Log on when you get home and let me know you're there. ** Bollo, Survive your last day, man. I've been avoiding museums here for that very reason. Yeah, that File Megazine has been the least checked off item on my Xmas wish list for two years running now. Ha ha, you're the third person I know who's met Shane McGowan and told me how he/she prayed SM wouldn't say anything that required a response due to his utter incomprehensibility. ** Christopher/Mark, I want to see that film, yeah. Good words everywhere. Oh, sigh, grr, guess what didn't arrive by the 22nd? Still, mail has been hellish slow here lately in general, so perhaps hope is not yet lost. ** _Black_Acrylic, Nice, the signed book. ** The Dreadful Flying Glove, Yes, you must play a Zelda game sometime. Their much noted divinity doesn't need further hype from me, but my words in those games' regard would be prone. I know, that 8th grade class clip, I'm so glad you clicked it. What a find. I think the colluding of your sublime (really!) way with thought and words with your dark side was a great success. I hope that was the floodgate. And, yeah, the TPE thing ... I could be ridiculous about them maybe, interfered with by some strange fondness, and, in any case, your point itself was right, man. ** Statictick, Good God, how is that mysterious, reclusive Ian? Do you ever talk to him? I wonder if he ever looks at this place anymore. Sigh. You sound pretty good, yes? ** Jesse Hudson, Oh, that is a really nice HTMLG post and set of comments. That must have appeared while I was asleep. Everyone, the brilliant writer and d.l. Jesse Hudson alerts us to a really fascinating post and comment thread over on the crucial HTMLGIANT site by Amy McDaniel called 'Some Notes on Affect' and partially about Bataille, Sade, Paul Mann, Barthes and others. Highly recommended. My favorite Xmas song would be the shockingly predictable 'Father Sgt. Christmas Card' by Guided by Voices. ** Chris (British), Wow, Waikawa is really dreamy looking. I'm almost sure I've seen it in movies, probably in the guise of being other places. Awfully nice looking and feeling holidays are in store for you then. If you fill up flickr, give a link, yes? And that thing you linked to is fun. That 'Chris' isn't you, I'm guessing, or is it? Everyone, Chris recommends this, which is a blog post called 'Cognitive Biases in popular songs', and it's terrific, as he indicates. Enjoy your holidays, Chris, and I look forward to seeing you upon your soon to be legendary return. ** Winter Rates, Hey there, ruler of the roost. Thanks, man. It fucking does the job like the sun makes the flowers grow, my friend. ** JW Veldhoen, There was this kind of telling or sad or funny or something comments thread on HTMLG a while ago where some commenters were complaining how irritating it was when people said they listened to jazz since, by their logic, to actually listen to jazz is such an absurd idea that the entire medium only exists to give pretentious people a self-aggrandizing reference point. That was weird. ** Misanthrope, Oh, yeah, that Run DMC track, of course. Fuck knows why it didn't pop up during my laborious youtube search. And that is, yes, one of the best Charlie Brown mash ups that I wasted a lot of time watching while I was supposed to be the aforementioned laborious search. 'Ernie and Bert Go Brutal' might be better by a nose. I was going to say on this very day, ahem, where is my Go-Go Day, motherfucker? But you beat me to it. No, for 100 euro, even in solitude, I would have treated it like a golden goose. I might put my NY resolutions in a post here, or maybe not, I can't decide, but if I don't, I'll tell you what they are, like you couldn't guess. So please tell me yours now or wait until I decide. ** Inthemostpeculiarway, Is Shirley Temple still alive? That would be craziness. I think she was, like, a congressman or an ambassador to some smallish country or something at some point. I watched about eight seconds of that Lady GaGa Xmas clip/song before I could not take another second. I had dinner with Winona Ryder once. My day: Well, first I was in exile for a while. During my exile, I bought food, and I usually buy a magazine to read, and the only magazine I could find that I thought I'd want to read was the new issue of Dazed & Confused, so I sat out in the cold and read it, and I was reminded why I never buy Dazed & Confused because it took about ten minutes to read everything in the issue. But there was a short article in it by our own Tony O'Neill about the great Blake Butler that had a picture of Blake lying on a grave, so that was worth it. The cover story was on Courtney Love, and it was ostensibly about how her new album is going to be her big comeback, but the journalist only mentioned the album once or twice briefly while scrupulously avoiding saying anything good about it, so I got the impression it's going to be awful. After my exile, Oscar B. and I decided to go see 'Avatar', and we did, and my review would go something like this: Yes, the story and script are schlocky. Yes, James Horner's score is Disneyfied new age bleah. Yes, the bad guy looks like Vince McMahon and is so one-dimensional he makes Vince McMahon seem like King Lear. But, it's true what they say, the tech and 3D and animation are so amazing and advanced and wow that the weak stuff just didn't matter to me, and I was dazzled and not bored or dissatisfied for more than the occasional few seconds at a time, and I think it's totally worth seeing but only if you see it in 3D. Oscar liked it a whole lot too. After that, we walked back here, said our goodbyes since she's off to Italy today until the 5th, and I ate my usual dinner and blah blah. The only other thing that happened is something I can't talk about here for the moment, but it regards that awful situation with that guy who's trying to take ownership of the film rights of my novel 'My Loose Thread', and I'm infuriated by what's happening, and if I can explain why and what's going on at some point here, I will. Then I slept fitfully. And your Wednesday was ... ? ** Alyssa Nolan, I only saw one episode of 'Mad Men'. It seemed pretty good. I can see why there's a fuss about it among intelligent people. I just want Vincent Kartheiser to win the Oscar so he would say to me, 'Oh, man, how can I ever repay you for your magical help with the Oscar winning thing? Seriously, if there's anything, anything I can do for you in return, just name it.' Yeah, Sharlto Copley was good, and, yeah, I don't think there's going to be a nomination there. I didn't see 'The Fall' or 'The Brothers Bloom'. DVD, I guess. I don't think they played here in France, actually. But sometimes they rename movies so drastically, you'd never even know. Have an excellent day, Alyssa. ** I repeat: please give yourselves over to Richard Brautigan and his sponsor Winter Rates today, enjoy yourselves, and I'll see you tomorrow, okay?
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Please overhear your official 2009 DC's Xmas carolers
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Jacob Whittaker 'Christmas Crackers' (3:10)
The Pogues & Kirsty McColl 'Fairytale of New York' (4:00)
Erlösung 'Christmas ist Krieg!' (5:09)
Wind Waker Unplugged Christmas Project (2:27)
Mogwai 'Christmas Steps' (3:35)
Mr. Hanky 'The Most Offensive Christmas Song Ever' (3:49)
Dolly Parton 'Hard Christmas Candy' (4:09)
Feverspore 'santaknows' (3:38)
L 'Let it Snow' (0:19)
The Vibrators 'I Miss You Most at Christmas' (3:19)
Komprimus 'Czech Christmas Carols from Hell' (1:33)
The Kinks 'Father Christmas' (3:46)
Alan Vega 'No More Christmas Blues' (3:14)
8th Grade Christmas Concert 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen' (4:29)
Mel Torme & Judy Garland 'The Christmas Song' (2:59)
Coffin Fuck 'Silver Bells' (3:00)
The Flaming Lips 'White Christmas' (4:39)
AntiTek 'Christmas Evil' (7:21)
Shirley Temple 'I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas' (0:55)
Pet Shop Boys 'It Doesn't Often Snow at Christmas' (3:51)
Yves 'Petit Papa Noel' (0:53)
Lemmy Kilmister 'Run Run Rudolph' (6:48)
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Jacob Whittaker 'Christmas Crackers' (3:10)
The Pogues & Kirsty McColl 'Fairytale of New York' (4:00)
Erlösung 'Christmas ist Krieg!' (5:09)
Wind Waker Unplugged Christmas Project (2:27)
Mogwai 'Christmas Steps' (3:35)
Mr. Hanky 'The Most Offensive Christmas Song Ever' (3:49)
Dolly Parton 'Hard Christmas Candy' (4:09)
Feverspore 'santaknows' (3:38)
L 'Let it Snow' (0:19)
The Vibrators 'I Miss You Most at Christmas' (3:19)
Komprimus 'Czech Christmas Carols from Hell' (1:33)
The Kinks 'Father Christmas' (3:46)
Alan Vega 'No More Christmas Blues' (3:14)
8th Grade Christmas Concert 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen' (4:29)
Mel Torme & Judy Garland 'The Christmas Song' (2:59)
Coffin Fuck 'Silver Bells' (3:00)
The Flaming Lips 'White Christmas' (4:39)
AntiTek 'Christmas Evil' (7:21)
Shirley Temple 'I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas' (0:55)
Pet Shop Boys 'It Doesn't Often Snow at Christmas' (3:51)
Yves 'Petit Papa Noel' (0:53)
Lemmy Kilmister 'Run Run Rudolph' (6:48)
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p.s. Hey. Lest you think these two consecutive Xmas centric posts herald a week ahead of blog holi-Days, it's actually just one of those things that happens sometimes. So get it while it's spirited or something. That thought needed more coffee. Anyway, it's Tuesday, so I'll be moving quickly today like I do every week at this time due to the bearing down upon me of the Recollets cleaning crew. And so ... ** Kiddiepunk, Gosh, I don't think you're going to see this until I don't even know when. Everyone, our pal Kiddiepunk has a 22 hour flight from Paris to Melbourne today, so cross your fingers on his behalf for a lot of great in-flight entertainment, Cinderella-like steward(esse)s, and a soft landing. Check in when you're squared away. ** Esther Planas, Wish you could be here too, pal, naturally and a big duh. ** Alexhercule, Well, hello there and welcome, sir. That Starck buche is the one. I only glanced so far at your friend's piece, but it looks fascinating, so I'll devour it a little later. Let me ... Everyone, the new guy Alexhercule tips us off to an article by a friend of his about the gay scene in Dubai. I don't know about you, but Dubai plus gay scene is a pretty curious, mysterious combination, so maybe you want to join me in learning more right here. Thanks much for that. Take care. ** Oscar B, Yury said it was nice to meet you too. Well, of course. Let's talk in a short bit and see what's what today. Yeah, call me. If you already tried and failed, I was probably in exile at the time. Or I'll call you in a bit. ** Allesfliesst, It was scrumptious. Kind of a stellar mix of chocolate and cake and stuff with red bean and almond paste and the like. Hope you get yourself safely to the couch. ** Uli, Hey, man. Thanks a lot for letting me know how everything is going. I've been concerned. Well, apart from not knowing why it happened, which is eerie -- although at least it sounds non-dangerous re: the future, if worrisome -- you guys being freed to do Xmas sounds pretty positive. I hope your families are extra specially Santa-like to you. Lots of love to Tanja and you. ** David Ehrenstein, The other eaters were my fellow Recollets inhabiting artist friends Kiddiepunk, Oscar B, the artist Scott Treleaven, and the artist Paul P. General Idea were great. Is the zine you have their great, seminal zine FILE? I have a few of those. The Musee de Art Moderne (or whatever it's precisely called)here in Paris is doing a big GI retrospective for early 2011. ** Stan_cz, Good words. How's the planning for the big move going? ** Alan, Hey. The block of wood by Philippe Starck is the one I would have most wanted, but its year was years before I developed my little Buche fetish. The eating is the best part. I kind of like the whole destruction of valuable property aspect. ** Paul Curran, That tree and the presents ... I got a real childhood ache from that description. Very sorry to hear about my mom's hip's mess up, but, yeah, if she has lots of people around her, she'll be okay. Sorry, though, ugh. ** Bernard Welt, Yeah, we got the Buche at the Bastille Lenotre on rue Saint Antoine. Mm, I don't think my friends look alike, do they? Would I know? You're a busy man, so I hesitate to ask you to pass along that McCay essay for the blog, but I will anyway. ** Lance, Kind of insane to spring for that Buche money-wise, but I weirdly don't regret it. Dude, it was good. If my laptop was on the Starship Enterprise, I'd ask Scotty to beam the last refrigerated bit over to you so you'd know. (Btw, I feel the need to say that I'm not a Trekkie, even though that need is probably neurotic). ** Misanthrope, I wasn't going to spoil that vision of youth and sugary goodness with my craggy old face. I don't think you need your head examined, but that is a thoughtless, insensitive rip off going on re: you there, yep. ** Bill, Well, the Buches look more tough and solid than they are, and you can just slice them gradually to bits like pound cakes. That's part of the weird magic, I guess. ** Bollo, I'm so glad I don't have to buy anything this year apart from the aforementioned pastries, unless, yikes, Yury secretly bought me something, but there isn't Xmas in Russia, so hopefully he hasn't picked up the habit over here in the West. The main ingredients of the Buche sauce are cream and green tea and some other light spices and sweet things. It's killer. I'm going to pour some on some ice cream tonight, I think. The Philippe Pareno is a real buche that looks insanely like a metal mold. A rockabilly night where the Gun Club is a inappropriate choice? Wow, no thanks. Chocolate stout? What is that? Or is exactly what it sounds like it is? Yuck. ** IF, No, I don't remember Bikini Girl, although I might slap my head in a big duh gesture if I saw a photo or something. Oh, okay, I'll hold off on the Sue. It was the French setting that was the selling point, basically. Spork Press, starting the 28th, I'm there. I'll look for a link or do pass one along here when the time comes if you remember so I can try to send a contingent of this joint's regulars directly over there. ** Maximum Etc., Hey, Justin! Ira talked to Grove about that idea a while back, and, yeah, they don't see that idea as bringing in more money, and that's all they care about regarding me at this point, I think. Maybe they'll come around. But, yeah, that's my kind of dream. Gosh, your dream was awfully nice of you. Yeah, I'll be in NYC for like five or six days right at the beginning, for the first little clump of shows, and of course I'm hoping to see you while I'm there. Try to have a solid Floridian Xmas if I don't talk to you before. ** Christopher/Mark, Oh, that would be a perfect Buche, that mailbox. I wonder if the French patisseries would ever go for something so American. Even in tiny French villages, they don't have mailboxes like ours. One of these years Lenotre is going to ask, oh, Marc Jacobs or some US fashion person to design a Buche, and we'll see. ** Killer Luka, Yeah, no problem, pal. Oh, the sauce is cream and green tea plus spices. It's delish. You could drink it right out of the bottle. There's still time for you to make that yule log. The description got me all saliva-ed out. ** Tim Jones-Yelvington, Great news about writing going so well. That was your first reading? So, now you've got that 'roar of the crowd' itch, right? Those doll clothes sound exciting. I think if I was in LA or somewhere where gifts were de rigueur, I'd buy everyone I know period doll clothing for Xmas. ** Winter Rates, Wow, that sauce is a curiosity builder. See my answer to Killer and Bollo. I held off on getting a cell phone forever, fearing it, fearing its corruption of my time and privacy, but it turned out okay, or at least it works okay when you live somewhere where you don't have a lot of friends like I do. Now I'm about to inherit Yury's old iPhone, another breakthrough and downfall in motion, I guess. ** Jesse Hudson, It was my very invisibility that leant me all that charm. You already sold your soul? I didn't even get a chance to bid on it? ** Ken Baumann, Great news that you and Blake and Shane can be there. Excited indeed, on my end too. Sure, let's make the plans as the time in question gets closer. Sure, that's cool. Wow, great! ** NB, Well, I think you just have to accept your winsomeness. Were I your therapist, we would devote your treatment to solving what seems to be your wariness at coming to terms with the winsome little boy you once were and still could be if you would only accept and love yourself for who you really are. ** Chris, Hey, Chris. I hope you're doing okay through all this. I wrote to Ish to figure out 'Them' stuff in NYC while I'm there, and I'm waiting to hear back from him. Have you talked to him? ** JW Veldhoen, Well, gee, that all sounds pretty fucking good. Don't freak out about it, just ... ugh, go with the flow. Weird how horrible things like that can emerge from one's mind and enter the world as text. California has a lot to answer for. But, yeah, I mean, that's good, very good. ** Inthemostpeculiarway, Hey. No, I hadn't read AA Bronson's book before. I collect old Grove Press books from the 60s and 70s, but that one had never crossed my field of vision. I don't think it's love re: Brittany Murphy. Famous corpses have become interchangeable. If Kenneth Anger hadn't totally lost it artistically, that Gaga clip idea would have been a good one. My day: Quickly, due to my exile fearing mode at the moment, I ... Oh, they're doing serious repair work on the first floor of the Recollets, and all the people who live there had to be moved to different rooms on other floors for two days, and that included Kiddiepunk. So he called me and said the equivalent of, Jesus Christ, you have to come see this room! So I went up to his temporary room on the 3rd floor, and Jesus Christ, it's gigantic. It's like a whole house inside the Recollets. 125 square meters with three huge separate rooms and a massive loft. I had no idea there was anything like that here. I would kill to live there. Everybody in the Recollets would kill to live there if they knew it existed. It's 1800 euro a month, which is a lot, but it's an incredible steal for what it is at this location in Paris. Anyway, so I wandered around in a daze of envy for a while. Then he and Oscar B and I decided we should buy some Xmas things for the cleaning crew and the boss and Sonja who works in the office, so Oscar B and I -- KP begged off due to his cold -- headed off for Lenotre and bought some crazily pretty cakes and things, and, when we got back, we gave the gifts to the intended people, and they were happy and kissed us and stuff. Then we parted ways for a while, and I worked and stuff, and then we regathered for a coffee since Kiddiepunk was leaving for Xmas in Australia today, and while we were coffeeing, we decided to go have a wacky dinner at Hard Rock Cafe. It was pouring rain, and Kiddiepunk is sick, so we took a taxi and ate our Americanized dinner -- nachos, veggieburger and an iced tea for me -- while watching the pounding loud, everywhere you look video monitor show featuring such sources of ugh as Kings of Leon, Styx, Stone Temple Pilots, Tool, Stevie Ray Vaughn, etc. That was fun in the way it could be fun. Then it was raining so hard that there were no taxis anywhere, so we took the metro back here, and said our goodbyes to KP, and he headed to his palace and we slouched towards our painfully little rooms. After that, I just worked on the blog and blabbed with Yury until I went to bed. You: go! ** Blendin, Oh, the Belmont. That's where you are. Now I can see everything with my mind's eye. ** SYpHA_69, If you could see the films Anger has been making recently, you might think otherwise, sadly. ** The Dreadful Flying Glove, 'La Buche'. I've heard of that. Hm. Okay. Whoa, what a romantically dramatic night you had. Our snow is gone, totally, not a white patch to be seen. It's just rained on, usual Paris, which is okay, but I'm sad about it. Oh, your screed(s) re: ATP and Shields were certainly fascinating. Brilliant, excitingly readable stuff. Me, you know, I have to disagree with you about 'Loveless' a billion percent, but that's okay. Multiple religious experiences and important aesthetic lessons learned for my little practice tell me so. And my only other quibble is that, dude, pretty harsh on That Petrol Emotion. See, I'm a big admirer of their stuff and have been known to rant to friends and total strangers about how severely underrated they are, so to see them batted away like they were Ned's Atomic Dustbin stung a bit, but that's okay too. I'm just saying. Point is, those things aside, your force and your reasoning and your words were a thing of wonder. Did you get home today? ** Tomas, Oh, hey, yeah, everything got disorganized over here, sorry. Couldn't make advance plans due to late breaking uncertainties. If we go see 'Avatar', it'll be a last minute decision, I guess. Sucks. Yeah, we'll find a way to meet, for the Cameron or something even better. ** Mark, Hey, man. Really good to see you. You can self-loathe here if you ever need to, you know. Friendship is big. I can't watch the bondage video due to trying to get this p.s. done before I get kicked out of my blog headquarters, but I greatly look forward to seeing it. Everyone, the visual and sonic and motion artist and d.l. Mark has a new bondage videoshoot up and viewable, and I'll bet it's a real tonic custom made for the holidays, so go have a look, please. Thanks a lot, Mark! ** Kevin, Kevin! Well, it's a joy to see you. Yes, I heard spectacularities galore from the lucky ones I know who saw you and Dodie read at CAO. Love the Faye Dunaway story ... I mean the real story with a capital S in 'IP' and the anecdote too. Mm, nice and kind of sad making to hear that those two mansions on Los Feliz are still spirited places around Xmas time. LA, sigh. I send you and D. the very merriest of Xmases. Oh, I'll be reading in SF at City Lights in mid-March with my LHotB dudes. Will be around then? ** Alec Niedenthal, You're going to be an HTMLG official feeder? That's awesome and makes perfect sense. Hm, do people have to leave there or get axed for newbies to be added? Seems not, but ... Everyone, rising and brilliant literary star and light plus d.l. Alec Niedenthal has a new story up in the new Smokelong, and do, oh do what I'll be doing in a little while aka giving it a read. Exciting, all this great stuff re: you, man. Really nice, really fucking deserved too. The snow's gone. All gone. The rain washed it all away. It's like it never happened. Parisians are pretty into Xmas, yeah. Way more than I was used to in LA, for sure. I mean they dress up their city with lights and displays and stuff like you wouldn't believe. I can't complain at all. ** JoeM, That's telling him. I agree. ** Put The Lotion In The Basket, Nick, sir, pal, buddy. Thanks for the tip on that blog. I'll scour it later in the day. Everyone, PTLITB highly recommends this blog, and he knows his stuff. Check it out. Green food ... oh, like split pea soup and salad and green beans and stuff. Interesting. I haven't heard from Empty Frame, but, if something really bad had happened to him, wouldn't it be all over the tabloids by now? He's quite the shaded character. Well, if he's not in house soon, I'll 'make some calls.' ** Damn, I got all the way to this very point, and then I got exiled. Literally right before I said this goodbye to you and proofed the above. Anyway, Xmas carols for you today, and I'll see you sometime after sun up tomorrow.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Galerie Dennis Cooper presents ... The artists and eaters of the Bûche de Noël, a Xmas group show
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'A Bûche de Noël had its origin almost 1000 years ago in Europe. It started as a pagan tradition celebrating the winter solstice, but Christians have continued it as a Christmas eve tradition that was thought to bring good luck in the coming year. A family would burn the largest log they could find in their fireplace, using ambers from the prior year's log to help light it. Over the last couple centuries, most people have moved from hearths to furnaces, and consequently, the Yule log has undergone some changes.
'The traditional bûche is made from a Génoise or other sponge cake, generally baked in a large, shallow jelly roll pan, frosted, rolled to form a cylinder, and frosted again on the outside. The most common combination is a basic yellow sponge cake, frosted and filled with chocolate buttercream, however, many variations on the traditional recipe exist, possibly including chocolate cakes, ganache and espresso or otherwise-flavored frostings and fillings. Bûches are often served with a portion of one end of the cake cut off and set on top of the cake or protruding from its side to resemble a chopped off branch, and bark-like texture is often produced in the buttercream for further realism. These cakes are often decorated with powdered sugar to resemble snow, tree branches, fresh berries, and mushrooms made of meringue.
'In Paris, however, the bûche is another opportunity for creativity, commerce, competition and consumption. Every bakery has bûches, large and small, but the big houses like Dalloyau and Lenôtre, and the artisan pastry and chocolate shops, like Jean-Paul Hévin and Pierre Hermé, all produce special bûches every year. Lenôtre actually hires a prominent designer each year to create a special bûche. Last year, Hubert de Givenchy designed a cake with two stag heads at each end, cast in clear sugar like crystal, their antlers festooned with gold leaf like a Buddha and lighted from underneath by two tiny LED lamps that last 12 hours.
'The flavor was chocolate, sourced from Tanzania, Ghana and São Tomé and PrÃncipe, with a hint of Earl Gray tea. And it was swathed in chocolate colored and textured to look like maroon velvet. There was a golden ribbon of pulled sugar, “like Murano glass,” and, of course, the Givenchy signature on a chocolate plaque, plus a light dusting of 22-karat gold. Only 700 were made for sale, and the cost was $160, compared to $60 to $75 for an “ordinary” Lenôtre bûche. The company, which also has a thriving catering business, expects to sell 15,000 bûches this Christmas.
'At the high end is Jean-Paul Hévin, selling 2,500 to 3,000 bûches, including an odd and whimsical one of a woman’s stiletto-heeled shoe made of chocolate, with even a small scuff mark at the heel, called the “Cinderella.” It is filled with three round Christmas tree ornaments of red and gold, also made of chocolate. The price: a little over $100. He also makes a Bûche Maison, in the shape of a house, with a chocolate roof, and smaller bûchettes looking like Eskimo ice-cream bars, with wooden sticks, and a Bûche du Voyage, with a red coating and a detailed handle somehow fashioned out of chocolate.' -- text collaged from various sources
Show
Meal
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'A Bûche de Noël had its origin almost 1000 years ago in Europe. It started as a pagan tradition celebrating the winter solstice, but Christians have continued it as a Christmas eve tradition that was thought to bring good luck in the coming year. A family would burn the largest log they could find in their fireplace, using ambers from the prior year's log to help light it. Over the last couple centuries, most people have moved from hearths to furnaces, and consequently, the Yule log has undergone some changes.
'The traditional bûche is made from a Génoise or other sponge cake, generally baked in a large, shallow jelly roll pan, frosted, rolled to form a cylinder, and frosted again on the outside. The most common combination is a basic yellow sponge cake, frosted and filled with chocolate buttercream, however, many variations on the traditional recipe exist, possibly including chocolate cakes, ganache and espresso or otherwise-flavored frostings and fillings. Bûches are often served with a portion of one end of the cake cut off and set on top of the cake or protruding from its side to resemble a chopped off branch, and bark-like texture is often produced in the buttercream for further realism. These cakes are often decorated with powdered sugar to resemble snow, tree branches, fresh berries, and mushrooms made of meringue.
'In Paris, however, the bûche is another opportunity for creativity, commerce, competition and consumption. Every bakery has bûches, large and small, but the big houses like Dalloyau and Lenôtre, and the artisan pastry and chocolate shops, like Jean-Paul Hévin and Pierre Hermé, all produce special bûches every year. Lenôtre actually hires a prominent designer each year to create a special bûche. Last year, Hubert de Givenchy designed a cake with two stag heads at each end, cast in clear sugar like crystal, their antlers festooned with gold leaf like a Buddha and lighted from underneath by two tiny LED lamps that last 12 hours.
'The flavor was chocolate, sourced from Tanzania, Ghana and São Tomé and PrÃncipe, with a hint of Earl Gray tea. And it was swathed in chocolate colored and textured to look like maroon velvet. There was a golden ribbon of pulled sugar, “like Murano glass,” and, of course, the Givenchy signature on a chocolate plaque, plus a light dusting of 22-karat gold. Only 700 were made for sale, and the cost was $160, compared to $60 to $75 for an “ordinary” Lenôtre bûche. The company, which also has a thriving catering business, expects to sell 15,000 bûches this Christmas.
'At the high end is Jean-Paul Hévin, selling 2,500 to 3,000 bûches, including an odd and whimsical one of a woman’s stiletto-heeled shoe made of chocolate, with even a small scuff mark at the heel, called the “Cinderella.” It is filled with three round Christmas tree ornaments of red and gold, also made of chocolate. The price: a little over $100. He also makes a Bûche Maison, in the shape of a house, with a chocolate roof, and smaller bûchettes looking like Eskimo ice-cream bars, with wooden sticks, and a Bûche du Voyage, with a red coating and a detailed handle somehow fashioned out of chocolate.' -- text collaged from various sources
Show
Christophe Michalak/Hotel Plaza Athenee
Kenzo Takada/Lenotre
Philippe Starck/Lenotre
Karl Lagerfeld/Lenotre
Hubert de Givenchy/Lenotre
Lolita Lempicka/Lenotre
Pierre Herme 'Chocolate Truffle Buche'
Pierre Herme 'Infinite Vanilla'
Pierre Herme '2000 Feuilles'
Chantall Thomas/Disney Resorts
Sebastian Gaudard/Disney Resorts
Jacques Torres
Placido Domingo/Cafe du Parc
Alexis Mabille
Elizabeth Passarella
Christophe Adam/Faucon
Jerome Chaucesse/Hotel de Crillon
Kenji Sakata
Jean-Paul Hevin
Jean-Paul Hevin
Payard 'Le Louvre'
Philippe Andrieu/Laduree
Philippe Pareno/Laduree
Pierre Schenk
Yann Brys/Foucher
Yann Brys/Dalloyau
Meal
Kiddiepunk, Oscar B, Yury Smirnov, Scott Treleaven, Paul P, DC
----
p.s. Hey. Let's see ... Oh, first, a heads up to those who contributed to Joseph Gordon-Levitt Day that it'll show up here not on this coming Saturday but on the following one, January 2nd. Also, for what it's worth, I've decided to deal with Xmas by posting on Xmas day, Friday, then taking Saturday off, giving you a long holiday weekend. It's really cold here in Paris, and it was all weekend, but, apart from about 15 minutes on Sunday, we haven't gotten all the snow that the forecasters were promising, which sucks, although the sky looks slightly promising at the moment. Anything else from my end of things will probably filter out as I continue to type. ** Esther Planas, No doubt, my pal. Also: see Put The Lotion In The Basket's message to you, if you haven't. Same comments section, lower. ** Tim Jones-Yelvington, Glad you liked it, Tim. You good? How's writing, Xmas, etc.? ** Killer Luka, Yeah, of course. It's all but written and on its way. Am I running too late? I'll try to get it off today. ** Kier, Hey, man! Glad you're back and very sound there in Oslo. You were much missed, and, yeah, I'm hoping like the others to see some visual (and verbal) evidence of your NYC trip if you've got some. ** Allesfliest, I'll play it safe and not declare your pre-Xmas partying kaput yet. How was the weekend one? Lots of fishy smelling smiles, I hope. ** Bernard Welt, Paul Roth. That might help. I think the front page is the one google notices. Not that it matters, but our piece is in the first half of the Avignon festival, so you'll miss it, but word is that the festival this year is a particularly good one in general. In any case, I'm almost positive you'll be blissed if you can be there. It's so much fun. You guys got historically walloped on the snow front, right? That's what the media purports. ** David Ehrenstein, I thought Jeanette Winterson was a really promising, interesting writer when she first started out, but I don't seem to like anything she does anymore. Enjoyed your havoc. It's depressing how people use staidness as a comfort zones there days. ** IF, Thanks, man. I've been wanting to read that Eugene Sue book forever, and since my novel has the gothic as one of its feeds and is set in France, I think I'll get on the horse re: it. ** Stan_cz, Yes, I was saddened to hear of the passing of Robin Wood, and my condolences to you as his friend. I hope you're doing okay. ** Christopher/ Mark, Hey, M. Thanks. ** Alan, Hi, Alan. ** Misanthrope, So how cool was it? The snow. I'll go look at Facebook and see if you've got any pix up. ** Oscar B, Down the drain it went, yep. Most of it. I think I'm going to go back to Lenotre yet again to buy some little goodies for the cleaning crew et. al.'s Xmases today. Any interest? Carols later? ** JW Veldhoen, Oh, I should have asked or schmoozed or something AA about you, darn. That NY Times link, fuck. Language was fucked and gross and revealing back then. ** Paul Curran, No, thank you, obviously. Are you doing a 'proper' Xmas for the kiddo and everything? ** Ken Baumann, Sire. I'll be in NYC from the 6th until the 12th, so I'll be there for the first three or maybe four shows, I guess. Obviously, I would love to see you there, eat or hang or something pre- or post-the show with gang or without. ** SYpHA_69, I've been reasonably lucky on the cover front compared to a lot of my peers. My agent has been trying to get Grove to reissue the GM Cycle with new jackets, etc, for years, but I think I'm going to have to die first, and even then they'll probably just use that as incentive to let the books go out of print. You released an album by Michael Karo? Wow. I'll go get that. Everyone, SYpHA_69's awesome cyber label Mauve Zone Recordings has released an album by the highly distinguished and multi-talented artist/local Michael Karo called "Funky Afternoon + The Slow Fish Remixes #1-5", and it's FREE, and it's downloadable right here. Nice, James, very nice. ** Chris (British), Sobering shot of the LotR location, although I'm from LA, so I know how that works. This crappy little building a block from my LA apartment was Melrose Place on the original 'Melrose Place' as well as playing Giles' apartment in 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer', and I'm walking distance from that kind of Hobbity meets medieval looking set of bungalows in 'Mulholland Drive'. That word skink is nice. You guys have some nice words down there. And I love those docs you linked to. I wish my blog could look like that. ** Jake, Yeah, gather those thousands and come see the show. Maybe we'll even finally get a gig in Melbourne. That's been an almost ran kind of gig possibility for years. What are you doing for Xmas? Family stuff? ** David, You packed in? ** Blendin, I saw that you sent pix, but I wasn't coffeed yet when I saw the email's subject. Your newsstand day on the blog is gradually accumulating? What do you think? It's kind of exciting to me that you can comment from the newsstand, I don't know why. ** Bill, Hey. 'Synedoche' is very worth seeing, yes. Imperfect, true, but incredible nonetheless. I guess 'Eternal Sunshine ...' is worth seeing for the Kaufman script, structure, ideas, which are really great. I personally don't think Gondry did the script justice, but I'm not a fan of Gondry's films in general. It's better than the Clooney directed Kaufman script about Chuck Barris. That film is kind of painfully a whole lot dumber than the script asks, but, again, if you like Kaufman enough, it's probably worth seeing while closing your eyes occasionally. ** _Black_Acrylic, The field trip looks fun and full of charming coincidences. Everyone, while awaiting the new issue of Yuck 'n Yum, join the field trip. ** Puella Aeterna, Hey, pal. I know Cathi Unsworth's work a little, although I think I know her journalism more than her fiction. I just read her Gallon Drunk piece not two days ago. Hm, a Day on her sounds like a good idea, yeah, for sure. I use your links to get it going. Thank you so much, as ever. I'm working on the next Liz Young post, which should be up just after the first of the year. We'll certainly be hoping for a UK gig and trying hard to get one. I'd think it'll happen if the piece works out as we hope and is liked enough. We might do Gisele's and my first piece 'I Apologize' soonish at the South London Gallery. They want it, but it's whether they can have the funds or not. I didn't know that Jeremy Reed book which has the same title as our piece. Weird, but okay, I hope. Please give me the scoop on the Ginger Light/Five Years gig when that's cemented so I can alert the troops. Oh, sure, I'd be happy and very honored if you want interview me for Ponystep. Just let me know when you want to do it, and I'm sure we can arrange that easily. Wonderful to see you, and thank you a lot again. ** Jesse Hudson, There's still a fraction of the Buche left in my fridge, and you're more than welcome to it. Please sneak in asap. ** Alex Rose, Your show is up in LA? And the fucking gallery site is behind the times? Hm. Well, I'll gather what info I can and alert the blog's gang and silent majority tomorrow. If I'd been able to go home for Xmas like I'd dreamed ... grr. I like those lyrics. They're true enough and prettier than they are true like most good things. ** Oliver, I find 18th century lit. tough going too. The prose is so thick or something that my mind becomes a blue pencil. Not with Sade though, yeah, but in addition to the lovely jolts, his structures are very now, it's weird. ** Pisycaca, Yeah, I guess I was more like Xet re: 'WTWTA'. I will try it again one of these years. The Buche was yum. If you make a Buche, take a photo. No, we got almost no snow. Just an endlessly promising sky with a brief interruption of some wet flakes. It's cold though, wow. I hope you get some snow today. Ongoing lots and lots of love to you. ** Bollo, If I had to be where rockabilly was the order of the sonic day, I'll drink lots of black stuff too, although in my case it'd be chocolate syrup. Rockabilly is somewhere I can't really go unless The Cramps count. The Stray Cats ruined the whole genre for me, I think. Hope you got your present buying out of the way. What did you buy? ** Steevee, We have frozen solid slush. ** Alyssa Nolan, Hey. Yeah, the trees are real. We'll, they're zombies. Zombies count as real, don't they? Now, Charlotte Gainsbourg getting nominated for 'Antichrist' would be beyond paranormal. I don't even think she got an Independent Spirit Awards nomination. I was so behind on films this year, it's hard to even think of who deserves the Oscar nod. Who else do you reckon deserves it? I could really go for it and try to get the Academy to suddenly add a TV acting award category and use that and his role on 'Mad Men' as my excuse to do another Vincent Kartheiser Day, but I'm not sure I could take learning how ultimately powerless my blog really is. You got some of that supposedly legendary East Coast snow pounding? Nice. ** Frank Jaffe, Happy birthday, Frank! What a happy day! Oh, too bad we'll miss each other in NYC, but it's cool (for me) that you'll get to see 'Jerk' at least, and we'll just have even more to talk about when you finally get over here. I think I'm doing 'Avatar' tomorrow. I'd better get myself a ticket today, come to think of it. What is a light Mexican lunch? I can't ever seem to go light in Mexican restaurants. A quesadilla maybe. Anyway, have the most fun ever today, man. And I'm talking ever. ** NB, That picture is cool. Yeah, winsome and melancholy little you. Your brother looks like a handful. Does he still puff out his chest like that? He was intense. I used to speak fluent Spanish when I was fifteen, but now, no, though I can decode it reasonably well when I've had enough coffee. Do you speak Spanish, I forget? Crazy trash throwing man avoids me now, and when we're in the hallway together, his eyes fill with panic and he speeds up really fast, which is all that's left of the craziness. He seems to have become friends with this transgendered scientist with purple and red punk hair who lives here and who I like named Michele, so maybe I'll ask her what the deal with him is. ** Inthemostpeculiarway, I did buy the exact Buche de Noel I wanted, but it wasn't affordable, but that's okay. I'm not going to shave today either. Gosh, I feel like you have good days almost all the time. What does that say about my days, I wonder. My weekend: Okay, on Saturday, let's see ... oh, first there was the expedition to buy the perfect Buche de Noel. It was supposed to be Kiddiepunk, Oscar B, and me doing that, but Kiddiepunk has a bad cold, so he stayed in his warm room. Oscar and I looked the candidates online and decided to get the 98 euro limited edition Kenzo Buche. Then we set off to buy it, but I fucked up on the address, and we ended up at Pierre Herme instead of Lenotre, and we could have just gotten one of their Buches, but I was determined, so we had to call a bunch of people to find out where Lenotre was, and we eventually found it. You had to order rather than just buy it outright 'cos you're supposed to pick it up on the day you're going to eat it for maximum effect and freshness, and I was told to come get it at 11 am on Sunday morning. The rest of the day I think I just worked and stuff. I can't remember too much. I need to get the blog filled up pretty far in advance because I won't be making posts when I'm in the States, so I'm spending a lot of time figuring out posts and making them right now. I'm sure that's what I did. That night around 6:30, I met up with Scott Treleaven and the artist AA Bronson and his boyfriend Mark who's an architect, and we had drinks at this cafe near the Recollets and on the canal called L' Atmosphere. That was nice. AA Bronson gave me a copy of this kind of legendary porn novel he wrote back in the 60s that was called 'Lana' in some editions and 'Lena' in others that Grove Press published, and that was super kind of him. We talked about art and stuff. The only bad part was I'd been waiting to ask AA whatever happened to this close friend of mine Tim Guest whom I'd lost track of years ago and who had been at one time the boyfriend of one of the guys who, along with AA, made up the great artist trio General Idea. Anyway, he said Tim died in the early 90s, and I'm still kind of shaken up by that news. That was hard to learn. But otherwise, it was a swell and fun meeting. On Sunday, I picked up the Buche. It was snowing at that time, and I was terrified that I might slip and fall or be bumped by someone on the metro and destroy the expensive Buche, but I moved delicately and with stealth and made it home okay and fridged the thing. Then I think I worked until Yury got home from work, at which point we all met up to eat the Buche, and the pictures up above tell that story better than I could. By the time we'd eaten our fill, it was lateish, and I just blah blahed and futzed until bedtime. Now you're up. ** Tomas, Hey. Fascinating about the guy who has written Tony Duvert's biography. Fantastic news that there'll be a Duvert biography! Maybe tomorrow for 'Avatar'. That's what I'm kind of thinking. Write me or call or something if you want to coordinate seeing it together. ** Put The Lotion In The Basket, Hey, Nick. It was wonderful, and thank you warmly -- emphasis on the warm, not that I have a ton to spare considering the iced up climate here -- for the post's splendors and for yours. I'm trying to do the interesting life thing. Oscar and I are supposed to go to Notre Dame tonight to watch a boys' choir singing Xmas carols for both sincere and ironic reasons, but ND is going to be a giant ice box, so ... I don't know. Lots of love to you, Nick. ** The Dreadful Flying Glove, Oh, great, thanks. I love Kevin Shields, but I'm not his shield, so I think I can handle any arrows, sleek as I know yours will be. Let me alert the others. Everyone, The Dreadful Flying Glove has some words about and for Kevin Shields' recent stewardship of the All Tomorrow's Parties festival under the intriguing title "Treatise That The Non-Existence Of Kevin Shields Would Not In All Manners Have Been A Bad Thing", and the thing is here. It was of sufficient something or other that a conversation ensued and a correspondence between TDFG and someone at ATP resulted. Sounds like a must to me, and you can check it out too with those three clicks. I'm seriously looking forward to reading that, man. ** Right. It's Buche Day here, so ... Fill in that blank, and then I'll see you tomorrow.
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