So I basically run this message board forum with some old friends of mine, I'm from the sixties, and I've put out some good records. We used to have "What's your take on..." type threads where a person had an open forum to users' questions on anything. This is one of the musings I wish to share with you. The question is about love, poetic terrorism, and the way I took it, my youth:
SSR
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Vint - if you are asking me
what i think about poetic terrorism, well, let me tell you i know a lot
about poetic terrorism because i am a failed poetic terrorist and also
experienced poetic terrorism of the harshest form. let me explain: there
was a time called the mid 80s when heavy metal crossed over with
hardcore punk and ruined punk rock (though it did wonders for metal).
musically it made things dull and predictable. socially it meant all the
assholes who used to throw bottles at us and yell "devo punk rock
faggit" were now coming to our shows. and then there were bands like 7
seconds (who i never could stand) trying to sound like U2. it was dire.
so what is a young punk to do? drop out of punk rock and start trying to
write. well, one day i was conned into taking a slot at this world's
longest poetry reading thing this guy i sometimes hung out with named BL
Kennedy (we call him Bacon Lettuce Kennedy) was putting together. the
fucking thing was a week long and he said he would give me a good slot
to read in if i'd do it. hell, why not. i had already embarassed myself
plenty. so i really dont have poems more like a combination of rants and
ramones, but isnt that what bukowski is anyway and plus i was loud and
knew how to public speak and i could always pad time with artaud or
patchen (man, what an artfag). so it is friday night and this thing is
taking place outside of a coffee house (where else) and there are
hundred of people there. so i read and it comes off well. the next day
at the coffee place i am hanging with people and this fine older woman
(actually 32 but older to me cuz i was 21) starts talking me up. a few
days later i wind up in her bed and she's talking about what a great
poet i am, which is really fucking retarded but i am naked so what am i
to do, run? so we fuck and suck for a few hours and i gotta go and clean
up cuz i got invited to read at some marathon ending poetry reading at
some bar. so i go and i read and another older woman (this one 30),
comes up to me and says she want to take me home. now up until that day,
i hadnt been laid in a year and now it is raining women. i feel a bit
guilty about fucking two girls in one day so i take a rain check and
show up at her house a couple days later and we fuck a lot for a month
or so. meanwhile i start doing occassional poetry readings thinking what
the fuck am i doing? and girls are still going for it so actually i
know what the fuck i am doing...them. but after awhile it is really
boring to stand in front of people and read shit so i start doing things
like writing real long paradoies of poems and local poets and reading
in meat masks. i read at some kerouac tribute that bacon lettuce does
and my friend craig brings a guitar and makes a lot of nonsense noise
while i jump up and down on one foot reading kerouac's pull my daisy and
screaming kerouac was a faggot, kerouac was a faggot, pissing off all
the old men poets and make all the ladies laugh and getting me laid once
again. i threw eggs at people, did horrible versions of classics iv
and donovan songs, did a reading with a lounge band, all trying to piss
people off. i was trying to be a poetic terrorist but all it did was get
me laid. then i got really really bored and went to the von
zipper/supercharger show that i've spoken of so fondly and came out of
the darkside and back to punk rock. a year later another local poet asks
if we will do a reading series at the bookstore. we say why not?
because we have the room and it will be a good way to promote the store.
so we start doing weekly readings. man it sucked. i had to be there on
sunday nights while really bad poets read about their divorces and
sexual experience. bacon lettuce did a 20 minute long poem about finding
his girlfriend's glasses and then violently buttfucking her. the
reading of the poem was his first anniversary gift to her and it was a
surprise...read in front of 50 people. she dumped him that night. there
was another guy who used to read stupid poems about being molested and
his healing and then try to pick up on the dumb fat college girls who
would show up. and the worst part was the open reading at the end.
stateworkers reading poems about state work. crazy people who you think
would be entertaining mumbling scripture. fucking horrible. you want
poetic terrorism. fuck my pitiful attempts at shock and misanthropy. sit
there while some fat fucker reads a poem about his fucking doctors
visit or while some 45 yr old female college student reads a poem about
the mendocino coast. man, that is fucking terrorism. and it is neither
fun nor pretty nor anything i support.
i hope this answers your question.
i hope this answers your question.
« Last Edit: October 08, 2005, 05:17:35 PM by SSR »
"I'm making a career of evil." http://s-srecords.com
