=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 11:09:25 -0500

Reply-To:     AARON CHIDAKEL/JMC2000 <chidake1@JEFLIN.TJU.EDU>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         AARON CHIDAKEL/JMC2000 <chidake1@JEFLIN.TJU.EDU>

Subject:      question

In-Reply-To:  <338D204E.4C4A@sk.sympatico.ca>

MIME-Version: 1.0

Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII

 

Question for whoever wants to take this one.

 

I've been reading LF's "Coney Island of the Mind" (Thanks to Howard

for the sale) and I'm really getting into it- especially "I am Waiting".

There's one part in particular that keeps going through my head-

really like the ring to it.  "I am waiting for retribution for

what America did to Tom Sawyer."  Being more of a science-type

than a literary-type and not being too well read I'm not too

sure what it means.  But I really like it.

 

Who can enlighten me?

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 12:32:14 -0400

Reply-To:     Marie Countryman <country@SOVER.NET>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Marie Countryman <country@SOVER.NET>

Subject:      Re: The Role of the Poet

In-Reply-To:  <33B01630.33D1@together.net>

Mime-Version: 1.0

Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"

 

re: spontaneous first thoughts and alchemical reactions through revisions

is at heart of my writing (apologies to all who have already deleted this

poem for at least the first or second time, it just spells out in verse

what poetry does, my only contribution coming from actual event

 

Friday the 13th, Plattsburgh, NY

Hava Java Poetry Reading

I sit, surrounded by men

        gentle men

                poet men

giving names to the unnameable

        and voice to the unspeakable,

opening  themselves up,

        using words as scapels.

Transcendental alchemy

        changing blood to ink-

                ink filling voids with words.

 

I sit, suddenly again the child i never was.

 

How many years now lost?

        how many fractured fine lines

                hold my selves

                        precariously,

                                together?

(stifled all these years,

        fearing words would crack me open

                only to find an empty shell)

 

tonight i sit with these gentle men

        whose poems bank the protective fire

                which holds us in its ring

 

and the universe cracks open

        inside my soul:

 

it isn't just me inside this ring

it isn't just me inside this ring,

it isn't just me inside this ring,

 

this ring of blood and fire

 

the grey smoke of the fire ring

        gives birth

                to metaphors stark

                        and shark naked facts,

as my  facts

        my metaphors

                my grey smoke

                        rises and merges

                                with all.

 

 

the poems alchemy

        begins its work,

                changing blood to ink.

 

Suddenly,

        a girl of seven,

                feet dangling off the floor,

                        appears in my chair,

                                all dressed up and no place to grow.

 

right now i'm only seven

        and awake long past my bed time

                staying up late with  boys

                        inside of poets' pockets.

 

we speak

        of hateful mothers

                of hurtful fathers

                        and winnie the pooh.

 

no bitterness remains.

 

        in this charmed circle

                this ring of fire

pain exchanged transmutes itself

        in this charmed circle,

                this ring of fire,

the alchemy of blood and pain:

        souls bared,

                souls shared.

 

it's bedtime now.

        would you tuck me in now,

                daddy?

- daddy isn't here.

 

would you be my fathers,

                if only for tonight?

 

mc 6/20/97

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 09:42:48 -0700

Reply-To:     "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Subject:      Re: Role of the Poet

MIME-Version: 1.0

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At 1:53 AM -0700 6/24/97, RACE --- wrote:

 

> actually, the answer  would be an EMPHATIC no.  The kind of poet being

> described in that quotation is the poet as magician and most easily

> understood as a word alchemist.  if one accepts the power of symbols in

> shaping reality, the poet's ability to Perceive and then stir the

> symbolic soup is a Real form of contemporary alchemy.  What you were

> referring to is probably a real creature but my hunch is that the

> alchemist can with some effort overcome the population of these middle

> aged gentlement in terms of pure magic.

 

yes, and my argument for the definition of a poet would necessitate that

this "magician" and "alchemist" spend time on the SHITLIST.  Oh, god

forbid, our poet should have a criminal record!  should be despised by a

great many.  From these latest clarifications, sounds like you're

describing some teenage african-american, sent-up for 5-10 on crack

related charges.  Is this what you meant???  :-)

 

>

> david rhaesa

> salina, Kansas

 

cheers, Douglas

 

 

 

"the map is not the territory"                  babu@electriciti.com

  (attribution unknown)                 www.electriciti.com/babu/

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 09:47:47 -0700

Reply-To:     "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Subject:      Re: Death of a Poet

MIME-Version: 1.0

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At 11:47 AM -0700 6/24/97, Diane Carter wrote:

 

> I agree with David's alchemist concept, and the idea that "the poet

> retains the faculty to be suddenly delighted by the sheer REALITY of the

> world 'out there.'  It actually leads to an awesome attention span,

> because one is suddenly attentive to the smallest aspect of daily life as

> a part of the greater whole of the universe.  Sometimes that leads to

> screaming but only when encountering those who have limited their

> perception of the poet.  Essentially the poet is god, creating out of the

> unknown, speaking truth that transforms the daily experience.

> DC

 

I think I saw your poet in Beverly Hills, pushing his cart, and calling

all the tourists whores and sluts.  god, my ass.  His long beard and

flagrant smell matched the rags and *sheer reality* of the situation.

I'm sorry, but I still say 'bullshit' to this type of interpretation.

You're describing a crazy motherfucker, paranoid and utterly angst

ridden from all the fear he perceives directed at his person.  Got

forbid he should be a transvestite, vietnam war veteran...  Is this who

(not *what*) you meant??   Are you prepared to limit your list of

"beautiful" people??

 

cheers, Douglas

 

PS:  I take your poet and dip it in my coffee and batter it with

Cherios.

 

 

"the map is not the territory"                  babu@electriciti.com

  (attribution unknown)                 www.electriciti.com/babu/

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 12:00:53 -0500

Reply-To:     thomjj01@HOLMES.IPFW.INDIANA.EDU

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Jennifer Thompson <thomjj01@HOLMES.IPFW.INDIANA.EDU>

Subject:      question for Gerry

Mime-Version: 1.0

Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII

 

Gerry (or anyone else who cares to answer),

I'm making a list of my favorite Kerouac quotations, and a few from

_Memory Babe_ have made the list.  If you can recall the original sources

and care to respond, I would appreciate it very much.

 

You've attributed him to having either written or said:

 

"We're all whores" (254)

 

"Mystic makes no mud" (255)

 

and, "All the gravity and glee and wonder of their lives and their loves

was forgotten for mere gold" (269).

 

thanks,

Jenn Thompson

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 13:22:47 EST

Reply-To:     MORE OXY THAN MORON <breithau@KENYON.EDU>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         MORE OXY THAN MORON <breithau@KENYON.EDU>

Subject:      Kesey web page

 

For all Kesey fans, check out this new web page which details the bus trek of

the Pranksters these months past; WWW.INTREPIDTRIPS.COM

 

Enjoy the ride,

 

Dave B.

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 19:37:38 +0200

Reply-To:     Rinaldo Rasa <rinaldo@GPNET.IT>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Rinaldo Rasa <rinaldo@GPNET.IT>

Subject:      life and all its little adventures...

In-Reply-To:  <l03020914afd52b3204d1@[206.25.67.100]>

Mime-Version: 1.0

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Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit

 

Marie Countryman writes:

>>> Derek A. Beaulieu wrote:

>>nexttime. the ACT, to me, is more important that the product (in my word

>>w(a)(o)nderings).

>>different ways of approaching wrds.

>>same core tho.

>_______

>revision or tightening up structure is as much an ACT as first thought

>first word splatter/shower out of head. and sculpture is what i see as the

>final part of my works when i put them in their place on the page.

>mc

>who really would like to be gonzo poet rather than 'confessional' have

>decided to kick that damn catholic girl outta my head. so auto bio is

>probably more accurate 'label' i dont write about ideas i write about my

>life and all its little adventures....

>mc

>

%                               %

        (                                                               )

                -                       [                               -

                        &                               &

                                )               (

                +]                      /

                                                |

                                        ^               ^

                                @                               @

                        #                                               #

                +                                                               +

        *                                                                               *

\...++*

(...my                                                  *       *%$""'

life and all its little adventures....)

        talkin'bout poetry &

\

(...kick

that damn catholic girl outta my head...)

                %       #                                       !|

        writing words

        is sometime

        like a panther

        & give words

        people almost

        not poets,

\\

\

(...be gonzo poet

rather than 'confessional'...)

%&(!\\

 

        i'm a gonzo

        (

        with re

        ference to i

        talian mean

        i       ng

        of th

        e wORd gonzo as a fool,

        F       O       O       L, -F- -O- -O- -L-

        )

        FOOL! FOOL!! fooOL!!!,

        f

        or poe

        ts t

+       he ja

        ils are al

        ways

        O

        OOOOOOpen

\"\"\)

%                               %

        (                                                               )

                -                       [                               -

                        &                               &       ==

        0                       )               (

                +]                      /

                                                |

                                        ^               ^

#000                            @                               @

                        #                                               #

                +               ###===???                                               +

        *                                                                               *

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 12:56:16 -0600

Reply-To:     "Derek A. Beaulieu" <dabeauli@FREENET.CALGARY.AB.CA>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Derek A. Beaulieu" <dabeauli@FREENET.CALGARY.AB.CA>

Organization: Calgary Free-Net

Subject:      raining punctuation....

Comments: To: Rinaldo Rasa <rinaldo@GPNET.IT>

In-Reply-To:  <3.0.1.32.19970624193738.0068ba64@pop.gpnet.it>

Mime-Version: 1.0

Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII

 

> %                               %

>         (                                                               )

>                 -                       [                               -

>                         &                               &

>                                 )               (

>                 +]                      /

>                                                 |

>                                         ^               ^

>                                 @                               @

>                         #                                               #

>                 +

  +

>         *

          *

> \...++*

> (...my                                                  *       *%$""'

> life and all its little adventures....)

>         talkin'bout poetry &

> \

> (...kick

> that damn catholic girl outta my head...)

>                 %       #                                       !|

>         writing words

>         is sometime

>         like a panther

>         & give words

>         people almost

>         not poets,

> \\

> \

> (...be gonzo poet

> rather than 'confessional'...)

> %&(!\\

>

>         i'm a gonzo

>         (

>         with re

>         ference to i

>         talian mean

>         i       ng

>         of th

>         e wORd gonzo as a fool,

>         F       O       O       L, -F- -O- -O- -L-

>         )

>         FOOL! FOOL!! fooOL!!!,

>         f

>         or poe

>         ts t

> +       he ja

>         ils are al

>         ways

>         O

>         OOOOOOpen

> \"\"\)

> %                               %

>         (                                                               )

>                 -                       [                               -

>                         &                               &       ==

>         0                       )               (

>                 +]                      /

>                                                 |

>                                         ^               ^

> #000                            @                               @

>                         #                                               #

>                 +               ###===???

          +

>         *

          *

        "for poets the jails

        are always open,"

        i tried to convince

 

                garcia lorca.

 

        but

        franco wouldnt let me

                                 speak.

                and lorca held my hand and said

        "no,

        for poets the ails

        are always open,"

 

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 17:24:34 -0400

Reply-To:     Matthew W Barton <mwb201@IS5.NYU.EDU>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Matthew W Barton <mwb201@IS5.NYU.EDU>

Subject:      Re: dear abby...MARRIAGE! (HELP!)

Comments: To: Maya Gorton <Marioka7@AOL.COM>

In-Reply-To:  <970624001916_-1562490373@emout19.mail.aol.com>

MIME-version: 1.0

Content-type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII

 

they say smack will take the longing away.  i won't imagine that any

relationship with any one person would satisfy your every need, nor should

it.  wait to marry.  must say you have an impressive list.

 

mwbarton.

 

On Tue, 24 Jun 1997, Maya Gorton wrote:

 

> THIS RANT is on a more personal note than usual so feel free to delete right

> now.

>

> my not-so-fresh brain slurps and sloshes inside my skull as i shake my head

> "no".

> I'm too tired tonight for any damn boyfriend.

>

> That Corso poem about marriage somehow stuck in my head all day today.  I

> don't know which one scares the shit out of me more, Marriage or Aloneness.

>  I know some happily married people---can't be all bad.  But i would miss...

>

>   The thrill of talking to someone quietly alone and the tension before you

> confess your affection in a kiss.  God sometimes i think that's what i live

> for.

>

> Then again, it all goes down-hill after that.  And i'm shaking my head to

> avoid the fear of inevitably having to break his (tender young) heart after

> the initial thrill is gone.  Am I the emotional vampire i never wanted to

> become?

>

> So many nights of rumpled sheets and i don't even remember all the names...

>

> pale rail-thin boys

> muscly backs,

> visible ribs

> tattooed skin

> soft dark skin

> scarred arms

> smooth, unmarked skin

> strong arms

> green eyes

> warm brown eyes

> cold grey eyes (sometimes blue)

> long hair short hair blue hair grey hair

> shaved head

> mmmm....skaters.

> Punkers, hippies, intellectuals, rock stars.

> Mostly disenchanted artists.

> Pretending not to love me.

> Hah!

> Warm hands with long bony fingers

> callusses on the tips from playing bass/welding/typing

> paint under fingernails:

> "Wash yer damn hands before you touch me!"

> good gracious, even pierced nipples.

>

> Could it possibly be time to settle down with only 1?

> I have a friend, he's a writer...a real sweetheart.....

> Jeesus, wha's wrong with me. SNAP OUT OF IT!!!

> My solution: go live in ascetic seclusion in Thailand and think real hard

> about something other than this.

>

> They should invent "anti-sex" pills so that when you feel an inconvenient and

> distracting urge you can just pop a pill and the mere thought of sex makes

> you nauseous.  now THAT would be useful.

>

> Until then i'll just feel like some kind of weird vampire-woman who needs

> human closeness and affection (read: sex) to survive....to keep me strong and

> rejuvenated. Without it I shrivel and wilt.

>

> don't get me wrong: i love my boyfriend.  But I don't want to marry him.  Do

> i really love him? And if so, why do i want to kiss every boy i meet?

>  According to the books, i should be long past adolescence.  Someone please

> tell me what the hell is going on.

> ---------maya

> "Confusion is...sex"---Sonic Youth

>

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 14:38:05 -0700

Reply-To:     "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Subject:      Re: dear abby...MARRIAGE! (HELP!)

MIME-Version: 1.0

Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"

Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit

 

The woman with email (Maya) wrote:

 

>> According to the books, i should be long past adolescence.  Someone

>> please tell me what the hell is going on.

>

>> "Confusion is...sex"---Sonic Youth

 

Just got thru reading Doris Lessing's "Summer Before the Dark" which

deals with this very subject matter (the aging process, the general

goings on, and transformations).  A very neurotic, deeply thought/felt

book.  I finished the 250 odd pages in about a day.  Good hunting!

 

cheers, Douglas

>

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 23:40:58 +0200

Reply-To:     Rinaldo Rasa <rinaldo@GPNET.IT>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Rinaldo Rasa <rinaldo@GPNET.IT>

Subject:      !a)n)a)a)k)a)r(c(h(y)c)0)m)e)s(B(a(c(K! Re: raining

              punctuation....

In-Reply-To:  <Pine.A32.3.93.970624125103.56486A-100000@srv1.freenet.calg

              ary.ab.ca>

Mime-Version: 1.0

Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1"

Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit

 

..........mostOfmessageSnippedForBrevity..........pun.......

....................pun.....................................

>          *

>        "for poets the jails

>        are always open,"

>        i tried to convince

>

>                garcia lorca.

>

>        but

>        franco wouldnt let me

>                                 speak.

>                and lorca held my hand and said

>        "no,

>        for poets the ails

>        are always open,"

>

>

>

!a)n)a) a)k)a)  r(c(h(y )c)0)m)e)s(B(a(c(K!

!

!!

!!!#

        Yo)I)i)u)yo)u)w(e(wE

%

                        s

%

                        aY

                        hu man  we      are

                        hu man s        we      err

        under           standing        wo      rds

        AS noT  individual      wo      rds

        is              going   to      get

        u               very far        in      unde

        r               standing        wh      y

        s               om              e       wooooooooooooRds

        are             go              (od     &

        so              me              are     ho(err R(Id

?

^

?       '       '       ||      00|||/\000000   $

%

10th    a.      k.      a.

        wo      Wo      WO      rds

        on      a       pa      ge      isnt'   muchmuch

                d       i       ff      er      (r

                                        r)ent

        fr                              omheaRing &=&=&+

        see(a=c ing     the     m spo

                                        kenBy

                                        live peo+       Poe

                                        ple on a st

                                        re(ER)et

^

        '       8)()    @       "       /

                i

                dont' c any

                                        di      ff      er(R

                                        en      ce

#

        #       =       =

        0       0^      ^                                       4       $

 

                u ar    e       (rr     shift           (iching

                                                (ing

                any

                T'ng u canName

!\\?

        [

        *       &       $

        ]       *       (       (

!a)n)a) a)k)a)  r(c(h(y )c)0)m)e)s(B(a(c(K!

!

!!

!!!#

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 17:06:59 -0500

Reply-To:     RACE --- <race@MIDUSA.NET>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         RACE --- <race@MIDUSA.NET>

Subject:      Re: raining punctuation....

MIME-Version: 1.0

Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii

Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit

 

Derek A. Beaulieu wrote:

>

> > %                               %

> >         (                                                               )

> >                 -                       [                               -

> >                         &                               &

> >                                 )               (

> >                 +]                      /

> >                                                 |

> >                                         ^               ^

> >                                 @                               @

> >                         #                                               #

> >                 +

>   +

> >         *

>           *

> > \...++*

> > (...my                                                  *       *%$""'

> > life and all its little adventures....)

> >         talkin'bout poetry &

> > \

> > (...kick

> > that damn catholic girl outta my head...)

> >                 %       #                                       !|

> >         writing words

> >         is sometime

> >         like a panther

> >         & give words

> >         people almost

> >         not poets,

> > \\

> > \

> > (...be gonzo poet

> > rather than 'confessional'...)

> > %&(!\\

> >

> >         i'm a gonzo

> >         (

> >         with re

> >         ference to i

> >         talian mean

> >         i       ng

> >         of th

> >         e wORd gonzo as a fool,

> >         F       O       O       L, -F- -O- -O- -L-

> >         )

> >         FOOL! FOOL!! fooOL!!!,

> >         f

> >         or poe

> >         ts t

> > +       he ja

> >         ils are al

> >         ways

> >         O

> >         OOOOOOpen

> > \"\"\)

> > %                               %

> >         (                                                               )

> >                 -                       [                               -

> >                         &                               &       ==

> >         0                       )               (

> >                 +]                      /

> >                                                 |

> >                                         ^               ^

> > #000                            @                               @

> >                         #                                               #

> >                 +               ###===???

>           +

> >         *

>           *

>         "for poets the jails

>         are always open,"

>         i tried to convince

>

>                 garcia lorca.

>

>         but

>         franco wouldnt let me

>                                  speak.

>                 and lorca held my hand and said

>         "no,

>         for poets the ails

>         are always open,"

 

Just then on a dark and stormy night a mysterious anti-poet named

Erasura appears on the television screen of the collective unconscious

and wipes away all peyotic and poetic memory since the dawn of King

Arthur's ant collection.

 

 

 

 

david rhaesa

salina, Kansas

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 17:10:17 -0500

Reply-To:     RACE --- <race@MIDUSA.NET>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         RACE --- <race@MIDUSA.NET>

Subject:      Re: Role of the Poet

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Penn, Douglas, K wrote:

>

> At 1:53 AM -0700 6/24/97, RACE --- wrote:

>

> > actually, the answer  would be an EMPHATIC no.  The kind of poet being

> > described in that quotation is the poet as magician and most easily

> > understood as a word alchemist.  if one accepts the power of symbols in

> > shaping reality, the poet's ability to Perceive and then stir the

> > symbolic soup is a Real form of contemporary alchemy.  What you were

> > referring to is probably a real creature but my hunch is that the

> > alchemist can with some effort overcome the population of these middle

> > aged gentlement in terms of pure magic.

>

> yes, and my argument for the definition of a poet would necessitate that

> this "magician" and "alchemist" spend time on the SHITLIST.  Oh, god

> forbid, our poet should have a criminal record!  should be despised by a

> great many.  From these latest clarifications, sounds like you're

> describing some teenage african-american, sent-up for 5-10 on crack

> related charges.  Is this what you meant???  :-)

>

> >

> > david rhaesa

> > salina, Kansas

>

> cheers, Douglas

>

> "the map is not the territory"                  babu@electriciti.com

>   (attribution unknown)                 www.electriciti.com/babu/

 

i didn't understand this.  i'm dense at times.

 

david rhaesa

salina, Kansas

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 15:45:58 -0700

Reply-To:     "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Subject:      Re: Role of the Poet

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RACE writ:

>

>> i didn't understand this.  i'm dense at times.

 

ah, good.  confusion is good.  To clarify, just wanted to point out that

those OUTSIDE OF SOCIETY are also poets.  that we should assume that a

poet is god, or even godlike.  human, thank you, is how I'll take mine.

I'll take six.  This whitebread Merlin image you folx were presenting

just can not be the only version of a poet that is acceptable.

Otherwise, you limit *your* option.  The big picture is not seen and all

we have left are "beautful" functions of an ideal that we call "poetry".

 

If you accept accidents as part of the process, you have to accept more

dirt and smut, I figure, as well.  And what you see as "poetic" and

"beautiful" I might see otherwise.  That's what I'm saying.

 

>> david rhaesa

>> salina, Kansas

 

cheers, Douglas

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 18:41:49 -0400

Reply-To:     NICO88@AOL.COM

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "(Ginny Browne)" <NICO88@AOL.COM>

Subject:      Re: question, ... ferlinghetti's tom sawyer

 

In a message dated 97-06-24 18:19:03 EDT, you write:

 

> I've been reading LF's "Coney Island of the Mind" (Thanks to Howard

>  for the sale) and I'm really getting into it- especially "I am Waiting".

>  There's one part in particular that keeps going through my head-

>  really like the ring to it.  "I am waiting for retribution for

>  what America did to Tom Sawyer."  Being more of a science-type

>  than a literary-type and not being too well read I'm not too

>  sure what it means.  But I really like it.

>

 

   Tom was always the romantic. America made Tom beat, he was beat from

america, .. tho you may not always be in accordance with the character (i

wasnt, i preffered Huck) he was always looking for the purity of contentment

that you just cant find, especially since he always had some one after him,

the cops, parents, teachers, etc. He was more into the immediate craziness of

life, but Huck was more a "gotta light out for the territory ahead of the

rest", i dont know, i always related most to Huck. Tom was more a dean

moriarty and Huck, more a sal paradise.

        sorry, strayed a bit off topic...

just a thought.

-Ginny

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 17:57:24 -0500

Reply-To:     RACE --- <race@MIDUSA.NET>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         RACE --- <race@MIDUSA.NET>

Subject:      Re: Role of the Poet

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Penn, Douglas, K wrote:

>

> RACE writ:

> >

> >> i didn't understand this.  i'm dense at times.

 

Density is really not even in the same food group as confusion.  both

are excuses for misunderstanding or non=understanding but they don't

even seem to be cousins beyond that.  perhaps my denseness is missing

something once again.

>

> ah, good.  confusion is good.  To clarify, just wanted to point out that

> those OUTSIDE OF SOCIETY are also poets.

 

i don't at all understand how this notion undermines the notion of

poetry as a magical enterprise.  of course, as someone who is Very Much

outside of society at least by conventional notions i feel rather deeply

that i should be able to understand your perspective quite clearly.

unfortunately, your words still bounce off the dense unsmoked rock which

passes for a brain.

 

that we should assume that a

> poet is god, or even godlike.  human, thank you, is how I'll take mine.

 

i don't find poet's godlike at all.  quite to the contrary, it seems

that the notion of poetry as a natural exercise of humans from all

segments in or out of what one defines as society, it provides a notion

of art/expression/magic that treats individuals from all segments of

classification fairly equally in that we all possess the power to alter

the universe through our words.  talking with a gentleman on the porch

twenty minutes ago.  very angry.  angry at landlord/boss about money.

anger was deeper much deeper.  says his brain was destroyed thirty years

ago.  i asked how.  he mumbled about car crash destroying brain and

someone in Newton controlling his money.  i said he seemed to still have

a brain.  he said it had been erased.  i said sometimes i thought that

would be a blessing.  he looked me in the eye and shook his head a firm

no.  he was a very very powerful poet to my mind.  His name is Barry.

 

> I'll take six.  This whitebread Merlin image you folx were presenting

> just can not be the only version of a poet that is acceptable.

 

i believe that your stereotyping the alchemist as a Merlinesque figure.

perhaps that is part of the difficulty with contemporary society's

definitions altogether.  we try to protect those of us on the outside by

saying they have a voice but in the they-ness of this defense those of

us on the outside are once again made outsiders and perhaps in a

fundamentally more pernicious way.  why can't Barry or i be considered

an alchemist?

 

> Otherwise, you limit *your* option.  The big picture is not seen and all

> we have left are "beautful" functions of an ideal that we call "poetry".

 

My big picture goes into recesses of the abyss that are from from the

portrait you are painting here.  sometimes i honestly wish it didn't

that i could have the beautiful people worldview.  my experiences in

life no longer make that a realistic option.

>

> If you accept accidents as part of the process, you have to accept more

> dirt and smut, I figure, as well.

 

You may recall in "Yahtzee" my position seems to me to be that

acceptance of accidents and non-acceptance of accidents are

fundamentally belief in the exact same thing.

 

And what you see as "poetic" and

> "beautiful" I might see otherwise.  That's what I'm saying.

 

and that is why you are an alchemist as well.

 

sincerely,

 

david rhaesa

salina, Kansas

>

> >> david rhaesa

> >> salina, Kansas

>

> cheers, Douglas

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 19:04:49 -0400

Reply-To:     GYENIS@AOL.COM

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Attila Gyenis <GYENIS@AOL.COM>

Subject:      Eastward Journey

Comments: cc: kron_m@ns1.halny.hitachi.com, Karen_Gyenis@rld.bofa.com

 

Well, I have started the eastward journey, leaving Eureka, CA (named for the

goldminers), stopped off in San Francisco. Large full moon was rising, but

missed the great view of it rising over the golden gate bridge. Stopped off

on Saturday night at Vesuvio's, had a beer, the place was filled with

tourists (like me) who were just soaking in the ambiance. Vesuvio's is next

door to City Lights Book store, and has a bunch of Kerouac and other

poet/writers photos and posters. I've done most of  North Beach in the past,

including Swenson's Ice Cream, where Kerouac used to get his Rocky Road (this

is just around the corner from where he used to live in Neal and Carolyn's

attic).

 

Sunday drove down Route 101 to Route 1, Pacific Coast Hiway, and stopped off

at many of the fine beaches that line the coast. The hiway here is not as

nice as up near Monterey, but still some good beaches. Went through Santa

Barbara, Ventura, Leo Carillo Beach, Malibu. Saw them film BAYWATCH (saw some

pert action).

 

Stopped off, of course, in Venice Beach, home of the cheap sunglasses. There

is a guy there that jumps on glass-- takes him 1 hour and lots of dollars to

do it but great gab; a one man band-- he playes the bass guitar with his

feet, saxaphone, and drum sticks on his arms; and cool polyester dresses. Oh

yeah, muscle beach which is really a new modern building-- years ago it was

just a small chain-linked fenced-in area with old heavy weights and big bulky

guys with lots of tattoos. In general, on Venice Beach you see a lot of

tattoos and pierced body parts.

 

On Malibu Beach saw somebody making concentric circles in the sand, spilling

red dust into the circles, with a small gathering of men, all in blue, with

drums. I think they were trying to make reservations on Halle Bob.

 

Today trying to decide the general route east. We have no plan, but are

planning a southern route since we want to spend a couple of days in

Narlens-- you have to stay at least a couple of day because you have to sober

up before you continue driving. Does anybody know the address of where

Burroughs lived in Algiers (which is just across the Mississippi River)?

 

Maybe drive to Las Vegas tomorrow (already one day behind on the trip but how

is that possible if I don't have any schedule) but no money to gamble with.

Or I could take all the gas money and parley it. I had this dream once to bet

on 39 rouge (in roulette).

 

Right now at a friends house and swimming in their pool.

 

Wish I had air conditioner in the car. And I have to remember to buy milk.

 

Later, Attila

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 19:13:32 -0400

Reply-To:     Marie Countryman <country@SOVER.NET>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Marie Countryman <country@SOVER.NET>

Subject:      privately raving in the aethenum

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THIS IS NOT A GUILT TRIP    (johnny rotten: "this is not a love song"

albeit briefly)

or

warm voice / cold voice

 

I

come to your office

weekly

 

50 minutes

out of all the minutes

remaining in the week

 

it

seems hardly

barely

not

enough

 

i panic, overflowing,

 

screaming, throw us a rope!

or,

quick switchz:

 

>>>>>>>>>>ah go fuck yrself

 

II

i

gotta get down from this cross

i've been riding

all these long days

 

but, as long as i'm at it,

sit up and hear the truth!

 

i can't pay you

and in the economics of therapy

hierarchies thrive

 

money talks, or lets others talk for hours and years

no silver crosses your palm

hierarchies are maintained:

 

we are on c-rations:

the one 50 minute hour

 

III

"be grateful for what you've got!

rants the mother in my head

yep she's still up there

rent free.

talk family economics!

 

when we spoke last week

on the phone

your warm voice disappeared!

and a laconic attitude seemed to take its place

an 'oh well'

said in an 'oh well' sort of voice

 

guilty of everything

i

can't pull away from my reaction

 

your sound advice

cold voice

 dog in the background

 

(it was very obvious

 

lots of quiet/no speak moments

 

(that i had intruded)

 

obvious

that the week holds 50 minutes

for me.

no difference.

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 19:53:19 -0400

Reply-To:     CVEditions@AOL.COM

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Pamela Beach Plymell <CVEditions@AOL.COM>

Subject:      Re: howling is expression of life

 

Maya:

I forwarded your post to James Grauerholz at Burroughs Communications.

Pam Plymell

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 17:00:23 -0700

Reply-To:     "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Subject:      Re: Role of the Poet <<craps>>

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RACE writ:

 

>> unfortunately, your words still bounce off the dense unsmoked rock which

>> passes for a brain.

 

perhaps it is my brain that is smoked like rock.  But no, that actually

is not true.  Smoked like salmon, perhaps, but rock, no....

 

>> i don't find poet's godlike at all.  quite to the contrary, it seems

 

Well, god.  I mean, good.  I can't stand idolizing.  If the poet needs a

position in the hierarchy of society, let us not forget the down and

out, as well.  Surely this is Beat Manifesto??  That's what I was

saying.  Personally, I'd rather discuss form, structure, anything else

than position in society.  fuck that.  Or perhaps I'm not ready to

discuss this.  That perhaps, is closer to the truth.  As Kenny Rogers

would say about gambling, now is not the time or place.  I'll wait until

the deal is done, thank you.

 

>> You may recall in "Yahtzee" my position seems to me to be that

>> acceptance of accidents and non-acceptance of accidents are

>> fundamentally belief in the exact same thing.

 

I didn't follow that thread, sorry.  If you're talking polemics, sure,

you're probably right about this equation.  But in the normal everyday

occurrence of things, we try to do what is quote unquote "right" and

oftentimes forget or avoid anything else.  As far as intention goes, I

figure the two are very different.

 

>> and that is why you are an alchemist as well.

 

and you, as well, sir.  Yet, I would resist placing such a label on

myself at this time.  I feel like the owner of Kentucky fried chicken

store, greasy, tired, and eager to get out of the whole "chicken and

egg" question quick.  Smells like adrenaline, aluminum, death.  Just

feed me and let me cuddle up beside you, dear.  I will fight the rush

hour gladiators for god and country in the morning, I promise.

 

>> david rhaesa

>> salina, Kansas

 

>>> cheers, Douglas

>

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 18:59:01 -0500

Reply-To:     RACE --- <race@MIDUSA.NET>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         RACE --- <race@MIDUSA.NET>

Subject:      Re: Role of the Poet <<craps>>

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Penn, Douglas, K wrote:

>

> RACE writ:

>

> >> unfortunately, your words still bounce off the dense unsmoked rock which

> >> passes for a brain.

>

> perhaps it is my brain that is smoked like rock.  But no, that actually

> is not true.  Smoked like salmon, perhaps, but rock, no....

>

> >> i don't find poet's godlike at all.  quite to the contrary, it seems

>

> Well, god.  I mean, good.  I can't stand idolizing.  If the poet needs a

> position in the hierarchy of society, let us not forget the down and

> out, as well.  Surely this is Beat Manifesto??  That's what I was

> saying.  Personally, I'd rather discuss form, structure, anything else

> than position in society.  fuck that.  Or perhaps I'm not ready to

> discuss this.  That perhaps, is closer to the truth.  As Kenny Rogers

> would say about gambling, now is not the time or place.  I'll wait until

> the deal is done, thank you.

>

> >> You may recall in "Yahtzee" my position seems to me to be that

> >> acceptance of accidents and non-acceptance of accidents are

> >> fundamentally belief in the exact same thing.

>

> I didn't follow that thread, sorry.  If you're talking polemics, sure,

> you're probably right about this equation.  But in the normal everyday

> occurrence of things, we try to do what is quote unquote "right" and

> oftentimes forget or avoid anything else.  As far as intention goes, I

> figure the two are very different.

>

> >> and that is why you are an alchemist as well.

>

> and you, as well, sir.  Yet, I would resist placing such a label on

> myself at this time.  I feel like the owner of Kentucky fried chicken

> store, greasy, tired, and eager to get out of the whole "chicken and

> egg" question quick.  Smells like adrenaline, aluminum, death.  Just

> feed me and let me cuddle up beside you, dear.  I will fight the rush

> hour gladiators for god and country in the morning, I promise.

>

> >> david rhaesa

> >> salina, Kansas

>

> >>> cheers, Douglas

> >

 

i was quite unclear.  it was my brain not yours that i was referring to

as rock-like.

 

not certain that i'm up for cuddling but would be more than happy to

share some Kentucky Fried anytime you're in town.

 

david rhaesa

salina, Kansas

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 20:04:24 -0400

Reply-To:     CVEditions@AOL.COM

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Pamela Beach Plymell <CVEditions@AOL.COM>

Subject:      Re: The Role of the Poet

 

An old and mutual acquaintance of mine and Ginsberg brought this quote to my

from the NY Times and wanted to know why?  Any answers.

 

In, short brains and minds, like neurons and ideas, demand separate and

different levels of discourse.

NY Times Book Review, The Talking Cure, reviewed by Richard Retak , Sunday,

June 22nd.

 

 

Charles Plymell

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 17:16:36 -0700

Reply-To:     "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Subject:      Re: Role of the Cuddle

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>david rhaesa of salina, Kansas writ:

 

>>not certain that i'm up for cuddling but would be more than happy to

>> share some Kentucky Fried anytime you're in town.

>

But *all* poets cuddle!!  didn't you know?? ;-)  This is the true

function and ultimate goal of a Poet.  better than a can opener.  better

than a 57 chevy.  Cuddles by a poet trained in the art and technique can

be quite heavenly!!

 

Can I have a witness?  I say, can I have a witness?!?

 

Hallelujah...

 

>Douglas

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 17:20:02 -0700

Reply-To:     "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Subject:      Re: The Role of the Poet

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>From:  Pamela Beach Plymell[SMTP:CVEditions@AOL.COM]

>

>> In, short brains and minds, like neurons and ideas, demand separate and

>> different levels of discourse.

 

Well, my understand of the question:  there's the animal "brain" and the

human "mind".  One is more or less predetermined and the other left up

to invent for it's own sake.

 

expressions:  "We are of one mind" vs "oh my god, my brain is killing

me..."

 

>> Charles Plymell

 

Douglas (who has yet another hour of "work" left.... ug)

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 20:17:39 -0400

Reply-To:     CVEditions@AOL.COM

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Pamela Beach Plymell <CVEditions@AOL.COM>

Subject:      Re: Blah, Blah, Blah

 

In a message dated 97-06-24 13:20:41 EDT, you write:

 

<< Some wonderful flirting.  Realized maybe sex isn't dead yet.

 Only dying slowly. >>

I had a young lady help me work on my manuscript today. Fresh picked flowers

were on the windowsill. I burned three kinds of incense. Listened to Elmore

James and the Sweet Inspirations. And we smoked a little. By the time Pam

came home I almost had her dressed in pieces of fine leather from my dad's

briefcase he got in Aztec country. She is the kind of beauty that a decadent

lifestyle only makes more beautiful. I asked her if she wanted to make a

movie of Thongs by Alexander Trocchi and if she could bear a heavy cross. I

was sifting through the pile of downloads for Dennis Hopper's address to ask

for his input. It was a kind of rainy cool day and the hanging petunias were

bright.

Charles Plymell

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 17:32:02 -0700

Reply-To:     "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Subject:      How to love a woman long distance...

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As long as we're talking advice, flirting, and sex, perhaps someone

would like to take a stab at this dilemma:

 

"How to best love a woman who lives 125 miles away?"

 

Please respond in a BEAT manner.  cheers, Douglas

 

 

"the map is not the territory"                  babu@electriciti.com

  (attribution unknown)                 www.electriciti.com/babu/

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 17:55:32 -0700

Reply-To:     "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Subject:      Re: How to love a woman long distance...

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>From:  Patricia Elliott[SMTP:pelliott@sunflower.com]

 

>> any knowledge. no getter courtship than laughter and tears.

 

ok, still at work.  tried calling, but got a message saying, "no longer

in service".  :-(  <<laugh>>  I must have the wrong number!  Hopefully

it gets "getter" than this.  Or I'm really gonna cry...

 

>> p

>thanx, Douglas

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 19:59:22 -0500

Reply-To:     RACE --- <race@MIDUSA.NET>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         RACE --- <race@MIDUSA.NET>

Subject:      Re: How to love a woman long distance...

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Penn, Douglas, K wrote:

>

> As long as we're talking advice, flirting, and sex, perhaps someone

> would like to take a stab at this dilemma:

>

> "How to best love a woman who lives 125 miles away?"

>

> Please respond in a BEAT manner.  cheers, Douglas

>

> "the map is not the territory"                  babu@electriciti.com

>   (attribution unknown)                 www.electriciti.com/babu/

 

buy her a standard transmission car ??????

 

david rhaesa

salina, Kansas

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 08:44:55 -0700

Reply-To:     runner911 <babu@ELECTRICITI.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         runner911 <babu@ELECTRICITI.COM>

Subject:      Re: The Role of the Poet

In-Reply-To:  <33AF8B11.23B9@midusa.net>

Mime-Version: 1.0

Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"

 

At 1:53 AM -0700 6/24/97, RACE --- wrote:

 

> actually, the answer  would be an EMPHATIC no.  The kind of poet being

> described in that quotation is the poet as magician and most easily

> understood as a word alchemist.  if one accepts the power of symbols in

> shaping reality, the poet's ability to Perceive and then stir the

> symbolic soup is a Real form of contemporary alchemy.  What you were

> referring to is probably a real creature but my hunch is that the

> alchemist can with some effort overcome the population of these middle

> aged gentlement in terms of pure magic.

 

yes, and my argument for the definition of a poet would necessitate that

this "magician" and "alchemist" spend time on the SHITLIST.  Oh, god

forbid, our poet should have a criminal record!  should be despised by a

great many.  From these latest clarifications, sounds like you're

describing some teenage african-american, sent-up for 5-10 on crack related

charges.  Is this what you meant???  :-)

 

>

> david rhaesa

> salina, Kansas

 

cheers, Douglas

 

http://www.electriciti.com/babu/                summer

save it, just keep it off my wave               is

  -- ("my wave," soundgarden)                   here

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 19:27:35 -0700

Reply-To:     stauffer@pacbell.net

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         James Stauffer <stauffer@PACBELL.NET>

Subject:      Re: The Role of the Poet

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Diane Carter wrote:

 

 Essentially the poet is god, creating out of the

> unknown, speaking truth that transforms the daily experience.

> DC

 

Guys, it's been a long day.  A  poet is a person who can write poetry.

Tautalogical as it may sound.  Has more to do with craftsmanship than

divinity.  A "maker" of verse. A singer of stories.

 

In our world a poet is someone who can get at least a few other people

to agree that what he or she does is poetry.  Does anyone seriously

think that Chaucer or  Pope, for example, every thought of themselves as

Gods or Alchemists?

 

J Stauffer

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 21:20:28 -0500

Reply-To:     Patricia Elliott <pelliott@SUNFLOWER.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Patricia Elliott <pelliott@SUNFLOWER.COM>

Subject:      my bad poem delete

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say it ain't so

a poem can't make peace work, only missles

can't save lifes, makes you feel nice

nice people saying nice things.

not the chance line of real truth coming from

that horrible smelly homeless loser.

justify that life, do they make a paycheck

priest of garbage

i would rather my poets were within the frame,

 maybe right after a good game.

life is hard and dark and evil,and full of random love  why know

 clean noses is it,

that the truth. that resistance to antbiotics might mean

end of woman

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 23:17:03 -0700

Reply-To:     Diane Carter <dcarter@TOGETHER.NET>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Diane Carter <dcarter@TOGETHER.NET>

Subject:      Re: Death of a Poet

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Penn, Douglas, K wrote:

>

> At 11:47 AM -0700 6/24/97, Diane Carter wrote:

>

> > I agree with David's alchemist concept, and the idea that "the poet

> > retains the faculty to be suddenly delighted by the sheer REALITY of the

> > world 'out there.'  It actually leads to an awesome attention span,

> > because one is suddenly attentive to the smallest aspect of daily life as

> > a part of the greater whole of the universe.  Sometimes that leads to

> > screaming but only when encountering those who have limited their

> > perception of the poet.  Essentially the poet is god, creating out of the

> > unknown, speaking truth that transforms the daily experience.

> > DC

>

> I think I saw your poet in Beverly Hills, pushing his cart, and calling

> all the tourists whores and sluts.  god, my ass.  His long beard and

> flagrant smell matched the rags and *sheer reality* of the situation.

> I'm sorry, but I still say 'bullshit' to this type of interpretation.

> You're describing a crazy motherfucker, paranoid and utterly angst

> ridden from all the fear he perceives directed at his person.  Got

> forbid he should be a transvestite, vietnam war veteran...  Is this who

> (not *what*) you meant??   Are you prepared to limit your list of

> "beautiful" people??

>

> cheers, Douglas

>

> PS:  I take your poet and dip it in my coffee and batter it with

> Cherios.

>

> "the map is not the territory"                  babu@electriciti.com

>   (attribution unknown)                 www.electriciti.com/babu/

 

I think you missed my point or perhaps I missed your's.  The idea of the

poet/artist as god creating a work out of nothing does not have much to

do with any stratus of society.  And I have no idea where your idea of

fear comes in.  The poet may be a whore, a crazy motherfucker, a

transvestite, a vietnam war veteran, a college professor, or the

president of general motors, for all I care about his background or where

he/she is seen on the ladder of social importance, inside or outside of

society. Writing a poem is a creative act, and in that act, man becomes

godlike, creating form and substance out of nothingness.

 

DC

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 19:57:29 -0700

Reply-To:     stauffer@pacbell.net

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         James Stauffer <stauffer@PACBELL.NET>

Subject:      Re: Blah, Blah, Blah

Comments: To: CVEditions@AOL.COM

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Pamela Beach Plymell wrote:

>

> In a message dated 97-06-24 13:20:41 EDT, you write:

>

> << Some wonderful flirting.  Realized maybe sex isn't dead yet.

>  Only dying slowly. >>

> I had a young lady help me work on my manuscript today. Fresh picked flowers

> were on the windowsill. I burned three kinds of incense. Listened to Elmore

> James and the Sweet Inspirations. And we smoked a little. By the time Pam

> came home I almost had her dressed in pieces of fine leather from my dad's

> briefcase he got in Aztec country. She is the kind of beauty that a decadent

> lifestyle only makes more beautiful. I asked her if she wanted to make a

> movie of Thongs by Alexander Trocchi and if she could bear a heavy cross. I

> was sifting through the pile of downloads for Dennis Hopper's address to ask

> for his input. It was a kind of rainy cool day and the hanging petunias were

> bright.

> Charles Plymell

 

 

Sort of restores one's faith that the good things don't die.  Always

appreciate Dennis's work and a little leather and Elmore James

The kind of beauty that decadence enhances if rare and wonderful indeed.

 

J Stauffer

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 22:58:10 -0400

Reply-To:     Marioka7@AOL.COM

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Maya Gorton <Marioka7@AOL.COM>

Subject:      the blood of a poet

 

Has anyone seen this delightful film ('Le Sang D'un Poete') by Jean Cocteau?

It's really early, like 1915 or something.  Black and white.  It is 'beat'

through and through, if such a label applies to a broader style and not to a

group of people.  does anyone know if it is mentioned anywhere that the beats

were influenced by him?  It looks the way I imagine a WSB novel would look on

film.  Is anybody here familiar with him?

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 00:35:09 -0700

Reply-To:     Diane Carter <dcarter@TOGETHER.NET>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Diane Carter <dcarter@TOGETHER.NET>

Subject:      Re: The Role of the Poet

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James Stauffer wrote:

>

> Guys, it's been a long day.  A  poet is a person who can write poetry.

> Tautalogical as it may sound.  Has more to do with craftsmanship than

> divinity.  A "maker" of verse. A singer of stories.

>

> In our world a poet is someone who can get at least a few other people

> to agree that what he or she does is poetry.  Does anyone seriously

> think that Chaucer or  Pope, for example, every thought of themselves as

> Gods or Alchemists?

>

> J Stauffer

 

I don't know, but I bet Blake and Ginsberg did.  Why can't divinity be

found/invoked? in the craftmanship of creating?

DC

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 22:46:04 -0500

Reply-To:     =?iso-8859-1?Q?Sinverg=FCenza?= <ljilk@GUINAN.MPS.ORG>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         =?iso-8859-1?Q?Sinverg=FCenza?= <ljilk@GUINAN.MPS.ORG>

Subject:      Re: Role of the Poet

In-Reply-To:  <c=US%a=_%p=OEES%l=SD-MAIL-970624224558Z-4505@sd-mail.sd.oees.com>

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"Penn, Douglas, K" wrote

 

>RACE writ:

>>

>>> i didn't understand this.  i'm dense at times.

>

>ah, good.  confusion is good.  To clarify, just wanted to point out that

>those OUTSIDE OF SOCIETY are also poets.  that we should assume that a

>poet is god, or even godlike.  human, thank you, is how I'll take mine.

>I'll take six.

 

i'll take two dozen in lime green.

 

-leo

 

 

 

 

"Zeus, most glorious and great, and you other immortal gods; may the brains

of whichever party beraks this treaty be poured out on the ground as that

wine is poured, and not only theirs but their childrens too; and may

foriegners possess their wives." -- war prayer from Homer's Iliad

 

 

"You scream, I steam, we all want egg cream." --Lou Reed, "Egg Cream"

 

 

"The air is dark, the night is sad

I lie sleepless and I groan

Nobody cares when a man goes mad.

He is sorry, God is glad.

Shadow changes into bone,

shadow changes into bone."

 

--Allen Ginsberg, from "Interlude"

 

"God said to Abraham, 'Kill me a son.' Abe said 'Man, you must be puttin'

me on' God said 'No.' Abe said, 'What?' God said 'You can do what you want

Abe but, next time you see me comin', man you better run.' Well, Abe said

'Where you want this killin' done?' God said 'Out on Highway 61.'" --Bob

Dylan

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 23:12:18 -0500

Reply-To:     =?iso-8859-1?Q?Sinverg=FCenza?= <ljilk@GUINAN.MPS.ORG>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         =?iso-8859-1?Q?Sinverg=FCenza?= <ljilk@GUINAN.MPS.ORG>

Subject:      Re: The Role of the Poet

In-Reply-To:  <c=US%a=_%p=OEES%l=SD-MAIL-970625002002Z-4550@sd-mail.sd.oees.com>

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>>From:  Pamela Beach Plymell[SMTP:CVEditions@AOL.COM]

>>

>>> In, short brains and minds, like neurons and ideas, demand separate and

>>> different levels of discourse.

>

>Well, my understand of the question:  there's the animal "brain" and the

>human "mind".  One is more or less predetermined and the other left up

>to invent for it's own sake.

>

I believe that humans retain the reptilian and mammalian portions of the

brain, which are more instinct driven, and also possess the neo-cortex, the

portion of the brain which is uniquely human, the part which works to

create images for us when we read. incidentally, thank god the animals

can't write poetry or think what kind of mess we'd be in.

 

-leo

 

 

 

 

 

"Zeus, most glorious and great, and you other immortal gods; may the brains

of whichever party beraks this treaty be poured out on the ground as that

wine is poured, and not only theirs but their childrens too; and may

foriegners possess their wives." -- war prayer from Homer's Iliad

 

 

"You scream, I steam, we all want egg cream." --Lou Reed, "Egg Cream"

 

 

"The air is dark, the night is sad

I lie sleepless and I groan

Nobody cares when a man goes mad.

He is sorry, God is glad.

Shadow changes into bone,

shadow changes into bone."

 

--Allen Ginsberg, from "Interlude"

 

"God said to Abraham, 'Kill me a son.' Abe said 'Man, you must be puttin'

me on' God said 'No.' Abe said, 'What?' God said 'You can do what you want

Abe but, next time you see me comin', man you better run.' Well, Abe said

'Where you want this killin' done?' God said 'Out on Highway 61.'" --Bob

Dylan

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 00:17:10 +0000

Reply-To:     "neudorf@discovland.net" <neudorf@DISCOVLAND.NET>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "neudorf@discovland.net" <neudorf@DISCOVLAND.NET>

Subject:      Huck

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In response to:

 

> . . . America made Tom beat . . .

 

 

Naw, man. America made Tom a dope. Our good friend Huck was the original

American archetype - he had that twitch that kept him restless, on the

go.

 

Here's a poem for the shoeless boy:

 

        The IT FANTASTIC

 

Make the best o  things the way you find  em, says I that s my motto.

This ain t no bad thing we ve struck here plenty grub and an easy

life come, give us your hand . . . and less all be friends.

                                                -Huck

 

     enjoy the ride

 

we hear it

go by downstream the Mississippi

we see it

go by downstream on raft /

canoe

with all its

adventures

and all its

creations

and all its

foundations

 

     enjoy the ride

     it, enjoy it

 

become of it

embrace it

it will come

 

     it is familiar

     it is

 

     because

     Huck knew of it

     without knowing it

 

can we say

he dug it?

we can

 cause he was /

is it

 

[this is primarily a performance piece, very simple to the point - BTW,

'it' should all be in italics - the phrasing is stretched with 'it']

 

Joseph Neudorfer

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 22:58:34 +0000

Reply-To:     wirtz@ridgecrest.ca.us

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Mike & Barbara Wirtz <wirtz@RIDGECREST.CA.US>

Subject:      Re: Role of the Poet <<craps>>

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Penn, Douglas, K wrote:

>

> RACE writ:

>

> >> unfortunately, your words still bounce off the dense unsmoked rock which

> >> passes for a brain.

>

> perhaps it is my brain that is smoked like rock.  But no, that actually

> is not true.  Smoked like salmon, perhaps, but rock, no....

>

> >> i don't find poet's godlike at all.  quite to the contrary, it seems

>

> Well, god.  I mean, good.  I can't stand idolizing.  If the poet needs a

> position in the hierarchy of society, let us not forget the down and

> out, as well.  Surely this is Beat Manifesto??  That's what I was

> saying.  Personally, I'd rather discuss form, structure, anything else

> than position in society.  fuck that.  Or perhaps I'm not ready to

> discuss this.  That perhaps, is closer to the truth.  As Kenny Rogers

> would say about gambling, now is not the time or place.  I'll wait until

> the deal is done, thank you.

>

> >> You may recall in "Yahtzee" my position seems to me to be that

> >> acceptance of accidents and non-acceptance of accidents are

> >> fundamentally belief in the exact same thing.

>

> I didn't follow that thread, sorry.  If you're talking polemics, sure,

> you're probably right about this equation.  But in the normal everyday

> occurrence of things, we try to do what is quote unquote "right" and

> oftentimes forget or avoid anything else.  As far as intention goes, I

> figure the two are very different.

>

> >> and that is why you are an alchemist as well.

>

> and you, as well, sir.  Yet, I would resist placing such a label on

> myself at this time.  I feel like the owner of Kentucky fried chicken

> store, greasy, tired, and eager to get out of the whole "chicken and

> egg" question quick.  Smells like adrenaline, aluminum, death.  Just

> feed me and let me cuddle up beside you, dear.  I will fight the rush

> hour gladiators for god and country in the morning, I promise.

>

> >> david rhaesa

> >> salina, Kansas

>

> >>> cheers, Douglas

 

David... "Just feed me and let me cuddle up beside you, dear.  I will

fight the rush hour gladiators for god and country in the morning. I

promise."  Thanks...I needed to smile today.

Barb

> >

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 23:03:13 +0000

Reply-To:     wirtz@ridgecrest.ca.us

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Mike & Barbara Wirtz <wirtz@RIDGECREST.CA.US>

Subject:      Re: Role of the Cuddle

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Penn, Douglas, K wrote:

>

> >david rhaesa of salina, Kansas writ:

>

> >>not certain that i'm up for cuddling but would be more than happy to

> >> share some Kentucky Fried anytime you're in town.

> >

> But *all* poets cuddle!!  didn't you know?? ;-)  This is the true

> function and ultimate goal of a Poet.  better than a can opener.  better

> than a 57 chevy.  Cuddles by a poet trained in the art and technique can

> be quite heavenly!!

>

> Can I have a witness?  I say, can I have a witness?!?

>

> Hallelujah...

>

> >Douglas

 

Cuddles with a poet?  hmmm...I've been known to cuddle up with a good

book of poetry. but despite the art and technique of the professional

cuddle, have ended up battered by corners of dark thought and newly

dimpled by sharp-witted lines...not heavenly...but good

nonetheless...and better for having slept on it.

 

Barb

=========================================================================

Date:         Tue, 24 Jun 1997 23:42:32 +0000

Reply-To:     wirtz@ridgecrest.ca.us

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Mike & Barbara Wirtz <wirtz@RIDGECREST.CA.US>

Subject:      Re: howling is expression of life

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Marioka7@aol.com wrote:

>

> dear barb..

>

>      I am so sorry. I never meant to come off as critical of you and your

> values.  I admire the fact that you are happy and confident in your

> lifestyle.  And I certainly do not glorify drug use, suicide,

> self-annihilation and the like.  I am merely interested in it because it

> seems to be the general condition of my peers.  In fact, i have repeatedly

> raged against it on this list, perhaps before you signed on.  Of course

> self-imposed misery and pain are ridiculous.  If you knew me, you would see

> that i am a basically happy person.  But as for the kind of poetry I like

> (and this may be purely a question of taste, in which case it is natural for

> you not to agree) I suppose i do prefer poets that speak of important

> spiritual matters while at the same time playing with words and creating

> beauty.  A specific feeling or thought that has behind it a larger truth.

>      If you review my previous messages you will see that i am actually quite

> critical of Ginsberg.  In fact, in one message i argued that Eliot was the

> better poet.

>      I certainly do have the "strength" to meet this lifestyle.  I am a

> teacher myself.

> I meant no disrespect to you and i hope that you will write this off as a

> misunderstanding.  if you would like to discuss the artistic and literary

> merits and innovations of William Burroughs, i am up for it, and believe me,

> there is a lot to say.  I would take pleasure in convincing you of his place

> in literature.

> ------------------------------------maya

>

>Maya,

        Thank you for that response (gosh! I feel so warm and fuzzy, I think

I'll write a poem  about eating a peach...Whoops..I dare say it's been

done..)  Sincerely, it did much to alleviate my feelings of complete

pissiness and irksomeness, whose comparable intensity index would be

three days prior to my period, correlating with a full moon in the lunar

cycle, after ingesting 8,047% more sodium than the daily recommended

doses by the FDA.  In fact, was about to write a parody of Lady

Lazarus..except of course...the peanut munching beat crowd is waiting

for me to slit my wrists, not rise again *L*.  Anyhow, thanks...because

I really didn't want to write that particular poem...would rather drink

some beer, using it as a dirutic for all that salt.

        I think I'll stay awhile  *grin*....if only to annoy everyone (could

have used it in the Lady Lazarus schpiel).

Thanks again,

A dissenting voice among the dissenting voices

Barb

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 00:36:01 -0700

Reply-To:     Malcolm Lawrence <Malcolm@WOLFENET.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Malcolm Lawrence <Malcolm@WOLFENET.COM>

Subject:      Berkeley summer '86

 

happy summer everyone!

 

I was effervescing not too long ago about the transplendent summer I

hitchhiked to Berkeley in the summer of '86. Well, I finally transcribed my

journal from that magical summer and put it on my web site. It may take a

minute or two to download because I put it all on one HTML page, but its

not the type of thing you can chop up too well. You'll know what I mean.

 

http://www.wolfenet.com/~malcolm/berkeley.htm

 

enjoy!

 

Malcs

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 06:54:52 -0400

Reply-To:     Marie Countryman <country@SOVER.NET>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Marie Countryman <country@SOVER.NET>

Subject:      Re: Role of the Poet

In-Reply-To:  <33B050D4.2112@midusa.net>

Mime-Version: 1.0

Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"

 

poet is not god; homer wrote of the gods had no claim to anything else. all

begins with early writings of men writing about gods

healing gods embedded in ritual and alchemical process does not make poet god

it isn't just me inside this ring

i itsn't just me inside this ring

it isn't just me inside this ring

this ring of blood and fire....

....the poems alchemy

        begins its work

                changing blood to ink

taking the spiritual inner experience

and putting it to paper, is i think, a singularly mortal task. universal.

no god best god.

gone

mc

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 07:05:02 -0400

Reply-To:     Marie Countryman <country@SOVER.NET>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Marie Countryman <country@SOVER.NET>

Subject:      Re: Role of the Poet

In-Reply-To:  <l03010d00afd601709bb2@[204.248.112.70]>

Mime-Version: 1.0

Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"

 

"but to live outside the law you must be honest"

i think bob dylan sed that.

mc

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 09:33:36 -0400

Reply-To:     Marioka7@AOL.COM

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Maya Gorton <Marioka7@AOL.COM>

Subject:      Re: first thought and revision

 

In a message dated 97-06-24 02:50:45 EDT, you write:

"Watch which weeds you pull up in the same vein"

<<

 imagine the old gardener and let me know what he looks like down to his

 veins.  you are much better at such imagination than I.

  >>

 

He looks like WIlliam Burroughs, of course.  He means 'don't pull up ALL the

weeds cause some of them may be good'.  Just like there are some good things

running through your veins and some bad.  Bad blood.  but that doesn't mean

you should cut your wrists and bleed yourself to death.  That's like throwing

out the baby with the dishwater or something.

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 10:11:02 -0400

Reply-To:     Matthew W Barton <mwb201@IS5.NYU.EDU>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Matthew W Barton <mwb201@IS5.NYU.EDU>

Subject:      Re: Eastward Journey

Comments: To: Attila Gyenis <GYENIS@AOL.COM>

In-Reply-To:  <970624190448_537399705@emout11.mail.aol.com>

MIME-version: 1.0

Content-type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII

 

appreciate the running road guide.  couldn't imagine taking a computer on

the cross country treck, much less signing on to sing it.  buy you a drink

when you get to nyc.

 

mwbarton.

 

On Tue, 24 Jun 1997, Attila Gyenis wrote:

 

> Well, I have started the eastward journey, leaving Eureka, CA (named for the

> goldminers), stopped off in San Francisco. Large full moon was rising, but

> missed the great view of it rising over the golden gate bridge. Stopped off

> on Saturday night at Vesuvio's, had a beer, the place was filled with

> tourists (like me) who were just soaking in the ambiance. Vesuvio's is next

> door to City Lights Book store, and has a bunch of Kerouac and other

> poet/writers photos and posters. I've done most of  North Beach in the past,

> including Swenson's Ice Cream, where Kerouac used to get his Rocky Road (this

> is just around the corner from where he used to live in Neal and Carolyn's

> attic).

>

> Sunday drove down Route 101 to Route 1, Pacific Coast Hiway, and stopped off

> at many of the fine beaches that line the coast. The hiway here is not as

> nice as up near Monterey, but still some good beaches. Went through Santa

> Barbara, Ventura, Leo Carillo Beach, Malibu. Saw them film BAYWATCH (saw some

> pert action).

>

> Stopped off, of course, in Venice Beach, home of the cheap sunglasses. There

> is a guy there that jumps on glass-- takes him 1 hour and lots of dollars to

> do it but great gab; a one man band-- he playes the bass guitar with his

> feet, saxaphone, and drum sticks on his arms; and cool polyester dresses. Oh

> yeah, muscle beach which is really a new modern building-- years ago it was

> just a small chain-linked fenced-in area with old heavy weights and big bulky

> guys with lots of tattoos. In general, on Venice Beach you see a lot of

> tattoos and pierced body parts.

>

> On Malibu Beach saw somebody making concentric circles in the sand, spilling

> red dust into the circles, with a small gathering of men, all in blue, with

> drums. I think they were trying to make reservations on Halle Bob.

>

> Today trying to decide the general route east. We have no plan, but are

> planning a southern route since we want to spend a couple of days in

> Narlens-- you have to stay at least a couple of day because you have to sober

> up before you continue driving. Does anybody know the address of where

> Burroughs lived in Algiers (which is just across the Mississippi River)?

>

> Maybe drive to Las Vegas tomorrow (already one day behind on the trip but how

> is that possible if I don't have any schedule) but no money to gamble with.

> Or I could take all the gas money and parley it. I had this dream once to bet

> on 39 rouge (in roulette).

>

> Right now at a friends house and swimming in their pool.

>

> Wish I had air conditioner in the car. And I have to remember to buy milk.

>

> Later, Attila

>

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 09:39:18 -0500

Reply-To:     =?iso-8859-1?Q?Sinverg=FCenza?= <ljilk@GUINAN.MPS.ORG>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         =?iso-8859-1?Q?Sinverg=FCenza?= <ljilk@GUINAN.MPS.ORG>

Subject:      Re: Role of the Poet

In-Reply-To:  <l0302090cafd6726be666@[206.25.67.125]>

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>"but to live outside the law you must be honest"

>i think bob dylan sed that.

>mc

 

he also said, "in Jersey everything's legal, as long as you don't get caught=

"

 

-leo

 

 

 

 

"Zeus, most glorious and great, and you other immortal gods; may the brains

of whichever party beraks this treaty be poured out on the ground as that

wine is poured, and not only theirs but their childrens too; and may

foriegners possess their wives." -- war prayer from Homer's Iliad

 

 

"You scream, I steam, we all want egg cream." --Lou Reed, "Egg Cream"

 

 

"The air is dark, the night is sad

I lie sleepless and I groan

Nobody cares when a man goes mad.

He is sorry, God is glad.

Shadow changes into bone,

shadow changes into bone."

 

--Allen Ginsberg, from "Interlude"

 

"God said to Abraham, 'Kill me a son.' Abe said 'Man, you must be puttin'

me on' God said 'No.' Abe said, 'What?' God said 'You can do what you want

Abe but, next time you see me comin', man you better run.' Well, Abe said

'Where you want this killin' done?' God said 'Out on Highway 61.'" --Bob

Dylan

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 11:03:00 -0400

Reply-To:     "Diane M. Homza" <ek242@cleveland.Freenet.Edu>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Diane M. Homza" <ek242@CLEVELAND.FREENET.EDU>

Subject:      if God is Pooh Bear, is Piglet St. Michael?

 

Hmmmmm....I'm reading _Off the Road_, & in chapter 40 Carolyn Cassady

includes part of a letter from Jack, written in 1954, I believe, & one of

the lines goes....

 

"Let me know about the little ones who know that God is Pooh-Bear and that

the rainbow went in the water...."

 

Reminded me of the God is Pooh-Bear conversation a few months back...

 

Diane.

 

--

Life is weird.  Remember to brush your teeth.

--Heidi A. Emhoff

                                                  ek242@cleveland.freenet.edu

                                                  Diane M. Homza

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 08:32:06 -0700

Reply-To:     runner911 <babu@ELECTRICITI.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         runner911 <babu@ELECTRICITI.COM>

Subject:      Re: the blood of a poet

In-Reply-To:  <970624225724_1722108478@emout15.mail.aol.com>

Mime-Version: 1.0

Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"

 

At 7:58 PM -0700 6/24/97, Maya Gorton wrote:

 

> Has anyone seen this delightful film ('Le Sang D'un Poete') by Jean Cocteau?

> It's really early, like 1915 or something.  Black and white.  It is 'beat'

> through and through, if such a label applies to a broader style and not to a

> group of people.  does anyone know if it is mentioned anywhere that the beats

> were influenced by him?  It looks the way I imagine a WSB novel would look on

> film.  Is anybody here familiar with him?

 

I always get the film confused with "Orpheus" (also by Cocteau?).  Love the

two scene (from either movie) where Orpheus is tuning the radio to hear

sounds from the dead side, and then, love the scene where he travels thru a

plane of water (blood?) to reach it.

 

If I reach, and completely malign my memory, perhaps one could draw

similarities to WSB's "towers open fire"??

 

cheers, Douglas

 

http://www.electriciti.com/babu/                summer

save it, just keep it off my wave               is

  -- ("my wave," soundgarden)                   here

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 11:33:09 -0400

Reply-To:     Ken Ostrander <kenster@MIT.EDU>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Ken Ostrander <kenster@MIT.EDU>

Subject:      Re: How to love a woman long distance...

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>As long as we're talking advice, flirting, and sex, perhaps someone

>would like to take a stab at this dilemma:

>

>"How to best love a woman who lives 125 miles away?"

>

>Please respond in a BEAT manner.  cheers, Douglas

>

 

 

 

>>Online computer users often engage in what is affectionately known as

>>"cybersex". Often the fantasies typed into keyboards and shared through

>>Internet phone lines get pretty raunchy. However, as you'll see below,

>>one of the two cyber-surfers in the following transcript of an online

>>chat doesn't seem to quite get the point of cyber sex. Then again, maybe

>>he does....

>>

>>Wellhung: Hello, Sweetheart. What do you look like?

>>

>>Sweetheart: I am wearing a red silk blouse, a miniskirt and high heels.

>>I work out every day, I'm toned and perfect. My measurements are

>>36-24-36. What do you look like?

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm 6'3" and about 250 pounds.I wear glasses and I have on a

>>pair of blue sweat pants I just bought from Walmart.I'm also wearing a

>>T-shirt with a few spots of barbecue sauce on it from dinner...it smells

>>funny..

>>

>>Sweetheart: I want you.Would you like to screw me?

>>

>>Wellhung: OK

>>

>>Sweetheart: We're in my bedroom.There's soft music playing on the stereo

>>and candles on my dresser and night table.I'm looking up into your eyes,

>>smiling. My hand works its way down to your crotch and begins to fondle

>>your huge, swelling bulge..

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm gulping, I'm beginning to sweat.

>>

>>Sweetheart: I'm pulling up your shirt and kissing your chest.

>>

>>Wellhung: Now I'm unbuttoning your blouse.My hands are trembling.

>>

>>Sweetheart: I'm moaning softly..

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm taking hold of your blouse and sliding it off slowly.

>>

>>Sweetheart: I'm throwing my head back in pleasure.The cool silk slides

>>off my warm skin.I'm rubbing your bulge faster, pulling and rubbing..

>>

>>Wellhung: My hand suddenly jerks spastically and accidentally rips a

>>hole in your blouse.I'm sorry..

>>

>>Sweetheart: That's OK, it wasn't really too expensive.

>>

>>Wellhung: I'll pay for it..

>>

>>Sweetheart: Don't worry about it.I'm wearing a lacy black bra.My soft

>>breasts are rising and falling, as I breathe harder and harder..

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm fumbling with the clasp on your bra.I think it's stuck. Do

>>you have any scissors?

>>

>>Sweetheart: I take your hand and kiss it softly.I'm reaching back

>>undoing the clasp. The bra slides off my body. The air caresses my

>>breasts. My nipples are erect for you..

>>

>>Wellhung: How did you do that? I'm picking up the bra and inspecting the

>>clasp..

>>

>>Sweetheart: I'm arching my back. Oh baby. I just want to feel your

>>tongue all over me..

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm dropping the bra. Now I'm licking your, you know, breasts.

>>They're neat!

>>

>>Sweetheart: I'm running my fingers through your hair. Now I'm nibbling

>>your ear..

>>

>>Wellhung: I suddenly sneeze. Your breasts are covered with spit and

>>phlegm..

>>

>>Sweetheart: What?

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm so sorry. Really..

>>

>>Sweetheart: I'm wiping your phlegm off my breasts with the remains of my

>>blouse..

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm taking the sopping wet blouse from you. I drop it with a

>>plop..

>>

>>Sweetheart: OK. I'm pulling your sweat pants down and rubbing your hard

>>tool..

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm screaming like a woman. Your hands are cold! Yeeee!

>>

>>Sweetheart: I'm pulling up my miniskirt. Take off my panties.

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm pulling off your panties. My tongue is going all over, in

>>and out nibbling on you...umm... wait a minute..

>>

>>Sweetheart: What's the matter?

>>

>>Wellhung: I've got a pubic hair caught in my throat. I'm choking.

>>

>>Sweetheart: Are you OK?

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm having a coughing fit. I'm turning all red.

>>

>>Sweetheart: Can I help?

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm running to the kitchen, choking wildly. I'm fumbling

>>through the cabinets, looking for a cup. Where do you keep your cups?

>>

>>Sweetheart: In the cabinet to the right of the sink.

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm drinking a cup of water. There, that's better.

>>

>>Sweetheart: Come back to me, lover.

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm washing the cup now..

>>

>>Sweetheart: I'm on the bed arching for you.

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm drying the cup. Now I'm putting it back in the cabinet.

>>And now I'm walking back to the bedroom. Wait, it's dark, I'm lost.

>>Where's the bedroom?

>>

>>Sweetheart: Last door on the left at the end of the hall.

>>

>>Wellhung: I found it..

>>

>>Sweetheart: I'm tuggin' off your pants. I'm moaning. I want you so

>>badly..

>>

>>Wellhung: Me too..

>>

>>Sweetheart: Your pants are off. I kiss you passionately-our naked bodies

>>pressing each other..

>>

>>Wellhung: Your face is pushing my glasses into my face. It hurts.

>>

>>Sweetheart Why don't you take off your glasses?

>>

>>Wellhung: OK, but I can't see very well without them. I place the

>>glasses on the night table..

>>

>>Sweetheart: I'm bending over the bed. Give it to me, baby!

>>

>>Wellhung: I have to pee. I'm fumbling my way blindly across the room and

>>toward the bathroom..

>>

>>Sweetheart: Hurry back, lover..

>>

>>Wellhung: I find the bathroom and it's dark. I'm feeling around for the

>>toilet. I lift the lid..

>>

>>Sweetheart: I'm waiting eagerly for your return.

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm done going. I'm feeling around for the flush handle, but I

>>can't find it. Uh-oh!

>>

>>Sweetheart: What's the matter now?

>>

>>Wellhung: I've realized that I've peed into your laundry hamper. Sorry

>>again. I'm walking back to the bedroom now, blindly feeling my way..

>>

>>Sweetheart: Mmm, yes. Come on..

>>

>>Wellhung: OK, now I'm going to put my...you know ...thing...in

>>your...you know...woman's thing..

>>

>>Sweetheart: Yes! Do it, baby! Do it!

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm touching your smooth butt. It feels so nice. I kiss your

>>neck. Umm, I'm having a little trouble here..

>>

>>Sweetheart: I'm moving my ass back and forth, moaning. I can't stand it

>>another second! Slide in! Screw me now!

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm flaccid..

>>

>>Sweetheart: What?

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm limp. I can't sustain an erection.

>>

>>Sweetheart: I'm standing up and turning around; an incredulous look on

>>my face..

>>

>>Wellhung: I'm shrugging with a sad look on my face, my weiner all

>>floppy. I'm going to get my glasses and see what's wrong..

>>

>>Sweetheart: No, never mind. I'm getting dressed. I'm putting on my

>>underwear. Now I'm putting on my wet nasty blouse..

>>

>>Wellhung: No wait! Now I'm squinting, trying to find the night table.

>>I'm feeling along the dresser, knocking over cans of hair spray, picture

>>frames and your candles..

>>

>>Sweetheart: I'm buttoning my blouse. Now I'm putting on my shoes.

>>

>>Wellhung: I've found my glasses. I'm putting them on. My God! One of our

>>candles fell on the curtain. The curtain is on fire! I'm pointing at it,

>>a shocked look on my face..

>>

>>Sweetheart: Go to hell. I'm logging off, you loser!

>>

>>Wellhung: Now the carpet is on fire! Oh noooo!

>>

>>Sweetheart: --logged off--

>

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 09:38:37 -0700

Reply-To:     "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Subject:      Re: How to love a woman long distance...

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Ken posted:

 

>>>Online computer users often engage in what is affectionately known as

>>>"cybersex". Often the fantasies typed into keyboards and shared through

>>>Internet phone lines get pretty raunchy. However, as you'll see below,

>>>one of the two cyber-surfers in the following transcript of an online

>>>chat doesn't seem to quite get the point of cyber sex. Then again, maybe

>>>he does....

 

reminds me of Elaine Mays and Mike Nichols doing their comedy routine.

And yes, I think he *does* get the point.  thanx for posting this!  Went

home, got the correct number of my LA Woman, and well, we talked.

Nothing to write home about.  I continue to wonder about the merits of

long distance relationships.  Don't think I could ever mail this woman a

raw fish.  just wouldn't appreciate it.  But hell, I don't know.

thinking about restraint, beat restraint. cheers, Douglas

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 10:03:39 -0400

Reply-To:     MATT HANNAN <MATT.HANNAN@OTC.USOC.CCHUB.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         MATT HANNAN <MATT.HANNAN@OTC.USOC.CCHUB.COM>

Subject:      Re: How to love a woman long distance...

Comments: To: "Penn; Douglas; K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

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>Douglas Penn wrote:

 

>"How to best love a woman who lives 125 miles away?"

 

>Please respond in a BEAT manner.  cheers, Douglas

 

     I first met the island not long after my second wife and I got

     married.  (Beat enuf for ya?)

 

     My wife and I spent our first year apart (thanks to Uncle Sam's Abject

     Farce (or USAF for short).  I was at the end of the Aleutian chain

     (they called it Alaska tho I was closer to Tokyo than Anchorage).  I

     was over 2,000 miles from her but thanks to y'alls (and my) tax

     dollars I got to talk to her on the phone every night.

 

     Your sit'ation isn't quite the same.  125 miles at 85 miles per hour

     (wink to our friend Sir Speed Limit who perished in San Miguel de

     Allende) isn't but a blink (or 160,000-odd railroad ties).

 

     'Course if y'er vehicularly challenged (and can't steal them as good

     as our boy from Denver) then it might as well be the Pacific twixt ya.

      In that case write letters, long letters full of prosody and sweet

     talk of love things (there's Dean again).  Historically Beat authors

     (not "historically, beat authors", I'm referring to those

     traditionally considered "the Beats" as opposed to modern Beat

     authors)...ahem, yass, Historically Beat authors, of course, wrote

     wonderful love letters.  Glean a few lines from Grace Beats Karma

     (especially helpful if your 125 mile romance involves a woman who is

     aroused by the names of Popes) or simply quote a few lines from your

     current readings...leaving out the part about boys (in your case) and

     the fact that you've got two or more women on a rather intricate

     schedule and you'll make that 125 miles to arrive at precisely 3:17

     p.m. for seventeen minutes of passion.

 

     Jack said it best "Live your life through...naw, LOVE your life

     through".  I guess my advice to you, Mr. Penn is if you love her, 125

     miles is a perfect distance.

 

     Matt Hannan

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 09:53:43 -0700

Reply-To:     "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Subject:      Re: How to love a woman long distance...

MIME-Version: 1.0

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Matt writ:

 

>>     Jack said it best "Live your life through...naw, LOVE your life

>>     through".  I guess my advice to you, Mr. Penn is if you love her, 125

>>     miles is a perfect distance.

>

ah.  perhaps I should keep my mouth shut for a while.  all these posts.

Love has always been a restrained thing in my book.  released slowly and

only if received carelessly.  ah, youth.  thoughts come to mind, "how to

BEAT a woman to love" [no, no, no, no], or "10 ways to tell if a BEAT is

in love" [ok, maybe].  But what's really on my mind is this "Can a BEAT

love a CARROT??"

 

still chuckling over Ken's post.  Am very much appreciative of

Sinverguenza's post that included the lines from "Interlude" : 'shadow

changes into bone'.  Anybody know the band, the Pixies, and their song

"bone machine"?  Am trying to figure out how this would *look*.

>

>>     Matt Hannan

 

cheers, Douglas

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 10:21:26 -0700

Reply-To:     "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Subject:      Re: Death of a Poet

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Diane writ:

 

>> society. Writing a poem is a creative act, and in that act, man becomes

>> godlike, creating form and substance out of nothingness.

 

yes, I completely agree.  yet, yet, hesitate to make such claims.

feeling that creative act in me, seeing it given form, *I* have fear.

yes.  *I* have fear.  Do not want a messiah complex.  do not want to

believe that such a "missle" (to quote patricia) could create or

destroy.  Do not want to ask, why me?, my lord, why me?

 

rather, I would distribute this gift accordingly, to everyone and

everything.  To those whose work goes unrecognized.  those who make

circuit boards for a living.  those who teach.  those who floss their

teeth.  Simply put, those who establish an act of being, those are

creative acts.  creative people.

 

I do not want to separate the creative act from normal quote unquote

life.  If god is in the details and true life is better than fiction,

then please, let us leave both there.  as they be, and let us be

grateful to recognize their existence.  amen.

 

A string of sayings floating thru me head, "power, absolute power [read

creative act] corrupts absolutely".  This is what I meant by fear [or

partially].

 

>DC

 

cheers, Douglas

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 10:26:06 -0700

Reply-To:     "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Subject:      Re: Role of the Poet

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Leo writ:

 

>> i'll take two dozen in lime green.

 

It's not Easter yet, you'll have to wait.  ;-)  Douglas

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 10:39:29 -0700

Reply-To:     "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Subject:      Re: Huck

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Joesph writ:

 

>>     because

>>     Huck knew of it

>>     without knowing it

 

Did Huck have a girl who lived 125 miles upstream, too??  ;-)

 

I like how _it_ reads and am curious how _it_ plays out performance

wise.  Any background images/sounds??  Fire and the sound of birds in a

jungle.... a newspaper being read in a cafe [flip, flip].... high rises

tracking the arc of the sun.... marshes and swamps dark with

fireflies...

>

>> Joseph Neudorfer

 

>cheers, Douglas

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 19:29:27 +0200

Reply-To:     Rinaldo Rasa <rinaldo@GPNET.IT>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Rinaldo Rasa <rinaldo@GPNET.IT>

Subject:      Kerouac.

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Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"

 

DEAR friends,

Lowell Massachusetts on the tombstone:

"Ti Jean - John Kerouac who honored Life - his wife Stella"

 

---

yrs

Rinaldo.

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 10:49:57 -0700

Reply-To:     "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Subject:      Re: Role of the Cuddle

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Barb writ:

 

>> Cuddles with a poet?  hmmm...I've been known to cuddle up with a good

>> book of poetry. but despite the art and technique of the professional

>> cuddle, have ended up battered by corners of dark thought and newly

>> dimpled by sharp-witted lines...not heavenly...but good

>> nonetheless...and better for having slept on it.

 

yes, then you have met the Collosus of poetry.  Ridden its bareback and

sceamed with joy.  perhaps been stuck on that merry go ride too long.

Sharp-tongued demons, yes, I have felt those via cuddle.  little buggers

sucking the sap right oughta ma breast. .... like knives gnawing into my

flesh, reflexively, as I loose the knots and need.  hm, purr.  and

grateful, yes, for the sleep, yes, the sleep that brought light into

those corners again.

 

Best to cuddle in a big empty house.  yes.  absolutely yes.

 

>> Barb

 

cheers, Douglas

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 11:05:39 -0700

Reply-To:     "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Subject:      Re: Role of the Poet

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Marie writ:

 

>> no god best god.

>> gone

 

and might I add, "amen"??  Woke up this morning wanting to hear Leonard

Cohen's "Who by Fire" and now I have.  Thank you.

 

>> mc

 

Douglas

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 12:36:53 -0600

Reply-To:     "Derek A. Beaulieu" <dabeauli@FREENET.CALGARY.AB.CA>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Derek A. Beaulieu" <dabeauli@FREENET.CALGARY.AB.CA>

Organization: Calgary Free-Net

Subject:      back in a few days

Mime-Version: 1.0

Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII

 

ya'll

just thought that i would let you all know thati am unsubscribing BUT only

for 10 days as i am going on vacation to montreal (jazz fest!, met

relatives, see antoine, etc) for 10 days and will be away from my 'puter.

do not dispair i will be back ;^)

if theres anything VITAL happening that i should know about it - forward

it on to me and i'll read it when i get back.

i'll fill ya'llin if anything exciting happens,

yrs

derek

=========================================================================

Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 14:59:51 -0400

Reply-To:     GYENIS@AOL.COM

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Attila Gyenis <GYENIS@AOL.COM>

Subject:      Re: Burroughs

 

In a message dated 97-06-22 00:58:20 EDT, CVEditions@AOL.COM (Pamela Beach

Plymell) writes:

 

<< I caught what was supposed to be a gaf of Dole during the campaign

 that tobbaco is sometimes less harmful than milk. >>

 

It's simple. Milk in a bottle crashing down on your head is bad. A cigarrette

crashing down on your head doesn't do anything, therefore cigarrettes are

better for you then milk. Unless of course you're eating peanut butter

sandwiches, in which case it is much better to drink milk then to drink

cigarrettes.

 

it's so simple, just like Dole was.

Attila

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Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 09:42:34 -0700

Reply-To:     Jens Koch <jenskoch@POST1.TELE.DK>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Jens Koch <jenskoch@POST1.TELE.DK>

Subject:      Kaddish as a play

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Does anyone know where to find Kaddish a script for a play? It is

supposed to have been performed in 1972.

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Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 16:24:39 -0400

Reply-To:     Marioka7@AOL.COM

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Maya Gorton <Marioka7@AOL.COM>

Subject:      Re: Death of a Poet

 

In a message dated 97-06-25 12:05:23 EDT, you write:

 

<<  Writing a poem is a creative act, and in that act, man becomes

 godlike, creating form and substance out of nothingness.

 

 DC

  >>

 

I don't think anyone creates out of nothingness.  Not even God (well he's

dead so it's irrelevant now, isn't it).  You can change things around, mix

them up a bit, but you can't make something out of nothing.

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Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 17:18:18 -0400

Reply-To:     Marioka7@AOL.COM

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Maya Gorton <Marioka7@AOL.COM>

Subject:      love-sad and death-happy

 

In a message dated 97-06-25 00:32:04 EDT, you write:

 

<<

 Just then on a dark and stormy night a mysterious anti-poet named

 Erasura appears on the television screen of the collective unconscious

 and wipes away all peyotic and poetic memory since the dawn of King

 Arthur's ant collection.

 

  >>

Race your words make me want to right a poem:(i don't kno why)

 

The Marquis de Sadness

 

each heartbeat hurts to ripples in chest

strumming pain with numb fingers

love and sadness are the same

in my book of the dead

i see the reflected image of my child

I mean my mother's mother

and my lover's lover.

I have come to think i don't exist,

And you have come to prove me wrong again.

I don't want your painted words

across the soft hole in my chest.

Between ribs

i bleed inky pools of lust.

The insects cry and i cover my eyes, needing.

it's a sweet death we all feel to discover.

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Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 23:26:06 +0200

Reply-To:     Rinaldo Rasa <rinaldo@GPNET.IT>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Rinaldo Rasa <rinaldo@GPNET.IT>

Subject:      Nero.

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        my black

        spaniel

        Nero,

 

        my dog

        is unplugged

 

        my dog

        goes

        by the vet

 

        my dog

        Nero

        isnt' stupid!

 

        my dog

        watched

        the telly

 

        my dog

        was a pet

        when ceausescu

        was killed

        in xmas day

 

        my dog Nero

        isnt' stupid!

 

        my dog

        now is

        near a bunch

        of trash,

        car plate,

        or in kennel

 

        my dog

        killed

        one hundred

        hens

 

        & when

        the wind

        is blowing

 

        on the right

        i hear his

        unplugged

        soul

 

---

yrs

Rinaldo.

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Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 15:16:55 -0400

Reply-To:     MATT HANNAN <MATT.HANNAN@OTC.USOC.CCHUB.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         MATT HANNAN <MATT.HANNAN@OTC.USOC.CCHUB.COM>

Subject:      Re[2]: Death of a Poet

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     Oh boy, an "original thought" thread.....who's up for some Aristotle?

 

 

       Mari wrote:

     >I don't think anyone creates out of nothingness.  Not even God (well

     >he's dead so it's irrelevant now, isn't it).

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Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 17:15:10 +0000

Reply-To:     "neudorf@discovland.net" <neudorf@DISCOVLAND.NET>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "neudorf@discovland.net" <neudorf@DISCOVLAND.NET>

Subject:      Huck

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Douglas wrote:

 

> Did Huck have a girl who lived 125 miles upstream, too??  ;-)

 

We all know Huck had more girls than was physically possible. Twain was

smart enough not to focus on this side of the boy's life.

 

Joseph Neudorfer

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Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 16:06:49 -0700

Reply-To:     "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         "Penn, Douglas, K" <dkpenn@OEES.COM>

Subject:      Re: love-sad and death-happy

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Maya superbly writ:

 

><< The Marquis de Sadness

>

>each heartbeat hurts to ripples in chest

>strumming pain with numb fingers

>love and sadness are the same

>in my book of the dead

>i see the reflected image of my child

>I mean my mother's mother

>and my lover's lover.

>I have come to think i don't exist,

>And you have come to prove me wrong again.

>I don't want your painted words

>across the soft hole in my chest.

>Between ribs

>i bleed inky pools of lust.

>The insects cry and i cover my eyes, needing.

it's a sweet death we all feel to discover.>>

 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- I envy your compaction, your jumping stones, and that

marbled stuff you smear across your eyes, Maya.  A humble and hasty

reply:

 

>"paysage" (Miro, ~1925)

 

I hear you boxing with whispers

replacing underwear and outer garments

with ropes and bottle caps, oils, and registers

the reverberating sound of stereos and outboard motors

of gentlemen and piano bars tinkling

the worms eating up your shadow play

there's rooms to rent and mouths to feed, already!

the citing of evidence that glanced bare naked across

across across, oh, your aging and disintegrating body

licking your skin for technically edited necessities

charm to wit, and the not too gentle suggestions of of of of

sacrifice.... layoffs... and inflight movies...

bleeding my eyes for one gentle touch, one, ah damn!

who cares already?, oh!, just fuck me!  fuck me!

lying here waiting, god, this sterile madness, <<HELLO!!>>

<<HELLO!!>> sweating with desire... <<HELLO!!>>

"my lover's lover"... box him in here with me, please

I am destroyer, I AM DESTROYER!!

calm cool and casual,

yes, my long day at work continues....

 

------- douglas

 

<<hmmmm, breathing...>>

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Date:         Wed, 25 Jun 1997 19:37:56 -0400

Reply-To:     CVEditions@AOL.COM

Sender:       "BEAT-L: Beat Generation List" <BEAT-L@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>

From:         Pamela Beach Plymell <CVEditions@AOL.COM>

Subject:      Re: Role of the Poet <<craps>>

 

In a message dated 97-06-25 00:39:57 EDT, you write:

 

<< not certain that i'm up for cuddling but would be more than happy to

 share some Kentucky Fried >>

 

I heard on the news that one of our main exports to China is chicken feet

which they eat as a delicacy. Now we know the Colonel Sanders connection. I

don't how many chicken feet the Chinese will eat in Hong Kong next week.

C. Plymell

 



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