Posts Tagged ‘fame’

Quoting Marx, Groucho Marx

10 Sep

punkThanks for the fabulous email, Tom. Let's face it, you and I have never been email chums. How could we with your persistent cynicism, a rival in status, a superior in hubris? The damned sandbox is just too small for the both of us on most things no matter how many Donovan Leitch albums I throw on the turntable. You snark on me. I turn the tables on you. Wittgenstein versus Popper in tone, the hour growing late. Your rather subjective description of what specific meaningful task email performs for some anonymous technogeek as representative of the whole as to what a piece of email is or can be—is something of a marvel worthy only of one who thinks everyone else should squat in the same corner as he does.

For Tom Howell to lecture Gabriel Thy on "walking along the littered shore line of the twentieth century, looking for treasures in the trash" expecting to break through somehow is quite funny—given the subject matter, let's call them the dry bones of men, of relic-worshipping superstitious ages, and other metapsychological artifacts that you've established as a baseline for inquiry in terms of your own artistic career.

To paraphrase Groucho Marx, who is said to have quipped in some venue or another that he'd never want to join a club that would have someone like him, I would observe that I just don't want to join a club or school that would need a debate in accepting me or not. Not now, not at this point in my kinetic energies. Oh, I may exhibit a social pang to run with some herd every once in a while, but I've never known a group that didn't try to enforce a form of groupthink, and thus I brazenly adopt my role as a role-wrecking anarchist. Liberty of choice taking full responsibility for those choices. But one can never be sure what's lurking around the bend. Remaining open to equations unforeseen and seizing upon one is not quite the same slow dance of the glamour years, as you so aptly point out. The noise of competition is indeed deafening, so I refuse to compete. I quit the club scene years ago, keeping to my work.

As for expecting to breakthrough, who are you kidding? I gave that up about the time I met you. There's no place to go. I do what I do because I am compelled to do it. That is all, just long enough to face Death himself without malice. So what drives you off the cliff?


10 Jan

I was swinging flamelessly flawed
Crookedly along a line of shooting fame
Where bleeping patriots bang
Living bull winking after coming
All that distance for nothing

and knew it mattered something
as my lead,
felling numbers by the wayside.
Washington. ID'ed.

D'ever visit
Looking like what is it
The keeping of the holy sanctuary
Ringing in clocks and cells
Sent off spacely spiffed
And then gathered erroneously
Introducing numbers colored
What has been?

In the beginning there was no faith
Tremble forsook theirs
The lady barker bit as something silent
And something like slender pumped branches
Of guilt-ridden hitchhiker fire
Gave zero a sympatheticological smile
Charging the going rate of two dollars
And manslaughter
And acts half flag
Half rag

Gagging suspicious gangs
Some sing some hesitate to recall
Soil deep replacing
Me and you.

Deciding to return to space
Its only begotten
To do right by what's left
Like sheep they would leap
In a twinkling of a cobra's eye
Insufferably here to stay
Using maximum flair to cornbread level
Dressed above the Machiavellian hips
Calling themselves out as apostles of
Aesthetics of inactivity
Their seed.

I said that night
Bar stool on my tongue I am
The college of my choice
And you agreed
That mine is a subtle creed
Strangerhood breed
Speaking for myself as if I had no tongue
Some new testicles glorified
Kinetic Pierjudy Rapier
And his spicy bride
Who aspires to the moment I ask.

[ 1981, Corpus Christi, TX ]


"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""