Tag Archives | conversations

John Giorno

Last night we went to see John Giorno. Showing the wonders of higher education, none of us had heard of him before except for Miguel, who studied him at LMU. It was my second ever live literature experience (the first one being the time I saw Nick Hornby) and my first poetry one. I must say I am not a big fan of poetry. I like some stuff, but when I feel like reading, I rarely choose it. I can’t help reading it with a stupid schoolboy-like intonation that completely ruins it.

That said, I really enjoyed last night. Hearing it from the author himself really was something else. It made me a lot more aware of the musicality of each word, of the rhythm and the flow of the verse. I guess reading poetry by yourself is like seeing a band playing a clumsy watered down cover of a great song that sounds nothing like it should.

Check out this video Miguel recorded!

The master and the masters.
Photo by Miguel. Genius photoshop work by me.
DEMON IN THE DETAILS
For William Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, Brion Gysin and some others
Once upon a time,
these
friends
loved
each other
very much,
and they made a vow
to stay together
until they all
attained
Enlightenment,
and lifetime
after lifetime,
and endless
re-births,
and doing practice,
they all realized
the absolute
empty
true nature
of mind.
They were so
happy
and overjoyed,
they started
dancing,
and dancing,
and danced
and danced,
they were so happy,
in the shocked
recognition
of emptiness
and compassion,
they kept
on dancing,
dancing
and dancing,
and they danced away
all their flesh
and skin,
until there was
nothing
left
but their bones,
and they kept dancing
in their bones,
dancing
skeltons
dancing skeltons.

Smooth
skulls
and speeding
fingers,
smiling
teeth
and wide eyed
holes,
sliding
phymas
and cracking
shins,
spinning
and sparkling
spinal chords,
shouting
ribs
and singing
jaws,
sqwirming
pelvises,
shivering
bones
and shaking
bones;
I want to
jump
into your heart,
I’m gonna come
in your heart
from here.

When it gets to hot
for comfort
and you can’t get
ice cream cones,
taint
no sin,
to take off
your skin
and dance around
in your bones
taint no sin,
to take off your skin
and dance around
in your bones.

You generated
enough
compassion
to fill the world,
and now,
all of you,
resting in
great equanimity,
have accomplished
great clarity
and great bliss,
and the vast
empty
expanse
of Primordially pure
Wisdom Mind.

But our friends
were not
totally,
not completely
Englightened
beings;
and sometimes
a hundred thousand years
in one of the
fabulous
god worlds
or highest
heavens,
is one year
here
or a couple of years here
in ours,
so much
for that.

Now,
at this very moment,
their consciousnesses
are terrorized,
the bells
of hell
the bells of hell
the bells of hell,
they have
cut off
your head,
and are shitting
down
your throat,
the worst
is at this moment
happening,
the very worst,
is happening
now,
life
goes on.

Shakespeare #1: This man was really good friends with Andy Warhol.
Shakespeare #2: Wow! He’s friends with Amy Winehouse? Why?
10

It’s like the army.

Here’s how Nick Hornby managed to give me the wisest advice about teaching I have ever received. In only 10 seconds!

 

Me: Nick, I have to ask you one thing. Did you like being a teacher?
Nick: Let’s say I prefer my life now.
Me: I study the same as you, and after spending 5 years saying I’m not going to be a teacher I am already one and I haven’t even finished my degree.
Nick: The thing with teaching is that it’s a bit like the army; before you notice you’re already there, but it’s only for a couple of years. It’s only a temporary solution, and I was very happy to get out.

I spent a long time wondering if I should wait for him to get out so I could have my book signed or not. He is one of my favourite writers, so I was scared of being disappointed. In a couple of years this story will have turned into a whole story where we went out for beers and exchanged myspace websites.

3

On going to concerts

andrea: I’m on a compulsory concert break. I go to whatever, but im usually not very excited about it. I go just because. And i enjoy it but, you know, not in a crazy teenage “omg i saw kris roe” way.
Clemens: Haha. Maybe thats better.
andrea: NO! I wanna be like that again.
Clemens: Is there any band that would make you go like that now?
andrea: Yes, but they’ve broken up.
Clemens: Concert-mid-life-crisis

This conversation was motivated by the order in which I decided to stick concert tickets on the walls.

1

Conversations with my mum


Me: I just finished reading Henry V.
Mum: Oh, really? Who wrote that? (sounding very interested)
Me: Shakespeare.
Mum: Oh, ok. (embarrassing silence) So, what are you going to read next?
Me: The Tempest.
Mum: That’s by Joyce, yeah?

2

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