THE ART IS TO WANDER: Tribute to Buddy Holly, Jacques Vaché, and Edith Sitwell by Tosh Berman

 

Read "The Art To Wander here: 

The Art to Wander

Tosh's Journal: September 7 (Homage to Buddy Holly, Jacques Vaché, & Edi...

TOSH'S JOURNAL

September 7

"I have often wished I had time to cultivate modesty… But I am too busy thinking about myself." I don't have a lot of knowledge about the world that's out there, but I do know myself, and at the end of the day, that is all I could offer you. Now, whatever that is good or not, is totally up to you. I can only offer what I know, which is not much. I feel like I'm 250 years old, and man does my eyes feel heavy. All I know is that I'm a man of excellent taste, and "good taste is the worst vice ever invented." To stand out in the world is like asking someone to cut your throat. It's not a nice world out there. In fact, it's a jungle. And I wish I can inform you that I'm Tarzan, but I'm more like George of the Jungle.

I feel the time is marching on, and I'm afraid that I will remain in the dustbin of history, which means ignored, and my writing is lost somewhere in the Central Los Angeles Library. I wake up with the greatest dread, knowing that I'm facing at least 12 or 13 hours of failure. "You know the horrible life of the alarm clock – it's a monster that has always appalled me because of the number of things its eyes project, and the way that good fellow stares at me when I enter a room." I feel time mocks me, and I know when my birthday just passed, people were thinking, "there he goes…"

Not long ago I purchased a six albums (on vinyl) box set of Buddy Holly's music. America has produced many talented people, but none is more important than Buddy Holly. He was a figure that was a modernist, specifically with his take on music-making as well as appearance. The heavy dark rim glasses, with the beautiful suits and sweaters that he wore, it had a profound effect on me, because I had trouble seeing without my glasses. His imperfections became a symbol of perfectionism. He turned the negative into the positive, why that boy was a magician as well as a superb musician. His death, to this day, is precisely what I can't take in. I cannot possibly understand why he went in that dinky airplane in a storm to get somewhere early, so he can do his laundry before the next show. Dandyism is a lifestyle, but it can also lead one to an early death. Yet, there can't possibly be a God, to let go such a brilliant talent. He tested against the elements and lost. I obviously don't have his genius, but I do have the expertise to lose, in a major and significant way.

"Hot water is my native element. I was in it as a baby, and I have never seemed to get out of it ever since." I'm not worthy of living in a world that makes such enormous demands on my ability to create chaos that is my poetry. "Poetry is the deification of reality," and I feel like I'm standing against a wind machine, that is blowing me towards another direction, that I care not to go. "ART does not exist - So it is useless to talk about it - but! people go on being artists - because it's like that and no way else - Well - so what?"

I never got over the death of Buddy Holly and especially Jacques Vaché. Two poets who I feel didn't finish their work. At this point and time, I have outlived both for many years. Holly was quoted in saying that "Death is very often referred to as a good career move." Perhaps he's right, but I feel I was left by the side of the road, and I don't have a compass to tell me what direction I should go to. The art is to wander. "I'm not trying to stump anybody… it's the beauty of the language that I'm interested in." - Buddy Holly.

David Trinidad Swinging on a Star on Tosh Talks

I have a great love for David Trinidad's book of poems "Swinging on a Star on Tosh Talks"  Here I gush about his book especially "Ode To Buddy Holly."

"Swinging on a Star" by David Trinidad (Turtle Point Press)

ISBN: 978-1-933527-97-0 Turtle Point Press

A small book that's gives out big awards. David Trinidad's book of poems "Swinging on a Star" is perfection at work. A poet who always keeps his vision and language in an exceptional form. I think I'm around the same age as Trinidad, and the pop cultural references that are in his poetry fits my or our generation greatly. For anyone outside that world, the poems are inviting and will bring new discoveries to the new reader. For me, it's like dipping into a pool of great pleasure. Some of the poems are simple imagery, and others are like biting into a ripe fruit and enjoying its freshness and the different textures that come with the taste of that first bite. 

It's always dangerous to compare one poet to another, but I think anyone who enjoys the work of the so-called New York School of Poetry such as Frank O'Hara, John Ashbery, James Schulyer, Kenneth Koch, and Barbara Guest would appreciate David Trinidad's poetry. I mention the above poets because they too filter pop culture within their work, which brings their world a larger landscape for the reader. The longest piece here is one of Trinidad's greatest poems: "Ode to Buddy Holly." Here he writes about the visit to Holly's hometown, and where is he is buried, Lubbock Texas. For me, who loves Holly's music, this is an incredible impression of the man, his burial grounds, home, and the nature of his death through the means of a plane accident. It's a moving poem that works on various levels. For one, Trinidad is a good reporter (through poetry) and how he recounts his time at the location, and how poetry brought him there, is him coming to a meeting with Buddy Holly as a fellow artist. The greatest gift from one artist to another is an appreciation and how that person's work sinks into the other's
poetry. 

"Swinging on a Star" is another fantastic book by one of the great American living poets. Also a nod of my hat to Turtle Point Press who has a history of publishing great books.

* I intereviewed David Trinidad on my cable TV show from the 1980s "Tea With Tosh"  You can see it here:  https://youtu.be/6EWTDIG-zoE

September 7, 2014

September 7, 2014

“I have often wished I had time to cultivate modesty… But I am too busy thinking about myself.” I don’t have a lot of knowledge about the world that’s out there, but I do know myself, and in the end of the day, that is all I could offer you.  Now, whatever that is good or not, is totally up to you. I can only offer what I know, which is not much. I feel like I 'm 250 years old, and man does my eyes feel heavy.  All I know is that I’m a man of excellent taste, and “good taste is the worst vice ever invented. ” To stand out in the world is like asking someone to cut your throat.  It’s not a nice world out there.  In fact, it’s a jungle.  And I wish I can inform you that I’m Tarzan, but I’m more like George of the Jungle.

I feel time is marching on, and I’m afraid that I will remain in the dustbin of history, which means totally ignored, and my writing is lost somewhere in the Central Los Angeles Library.  I wake up with the greatest dread, knowing that I’m facing at least 12 or 13 hours of failure. “You know the horrible life of the alarm clock – it’s a monster that has always appalled me because of the number of things its eyes project, and the way that good fellow stares at me when I enter a room.” I feel time mocks me, and I know when my birthday just passed, people were thinking “there he goes…”

Not long ago I purchased a six albums (on vinyl) box set of Buddy Holly’s music.  America has produced many talented people, but none is more important than Buddy Holly.  He was a figure that was totally a modernist, specifically with his take on music making as well as appearance. The heavy dark rim glasses, with the beautiful suits and sweaters that he wore, it had a profound affect on me, because I had trouble seeing without my glasses.  His imperfections became a symbol of perfectionism.  He turned the negative into the positive, why that boy was a magician as well as a superb musician.  His death, to this day, is exactly what I can’t take in.  I cannot possibly understand why he went in that dinky airplane in a storm to get somewhere early, so he can do his laundry before the next show.  Dandyism is a life-style, but it can also lead one to an early death.   Yet, there can't possibly be a God, to let go such a brilliant talent.  He tested against the elements, and lost.  I obviously don't have his genius, but I do have the talent to lose, in a major and significant way.

“Hot water is my native element.  I was in it as a baby, and I have never seemed to get out of it ever since.” I’m not worthy of living in a world that makes such great demands on my ability to create chaos that is my poetry.  “Poetry is the deification of reality, ” and I feel like I’m standing against a wind machine, that is blowing me towards another direction, that I care not to go. “ART does not exist - So it is useless to talk about it - but! people go on being artists - because it's like that and no way else - Well - so what? ”

I never got over the death of Buddy Holly and especially Jacques Vaché.   Two poets who I feel didn’t finish their work.  At this point and time, I have outlived both, for many years.  Holly was quoted in saying that “Death is very often referred to as a good career move.” Perhaps he’s right, but I feel I was left by the side of the road, and I don’t have a compass to tell me what direction I should go to.  The art is to wander. “I’m not trying to stump anybody… it’s the beauty of the language that I’m interested in.” - Buddy Holly.

February 3, 2014

February 3, 2014

I was at home listening to Felix Mendelssohn’s “Midsummer Night’s Dream.” when I got a phone call from Violet Shenton, who owns the building that Joe’s studio is in. It seems she was upset, and if she’s upset about anything, then it is pretty serious. I got here as soon as possible, and one can feel the mood of the place just by walking in. Violet met me at the door, and asked me to have a few words with Joe who seemed to be in one of his moods again.


Joe is probably the most intelligent man I know. He was the first guy to really introduce me to the writings of Gertrude Stein and had a crazy love for Carl Theodor Dreyer films. For a guy who looked just like he walked off the canvas of a Norman Rockwell painting, he had a lot of deep inner demons.

I went upstairs to his apartment, I knocked, and found myself facing a rifle barrow. I saw him and said “Joe, I presume!” He laughed and faced the rifle down, and invited me into the apartment. He said to take a seat on the couch, which was covered with empty reel-to-reel tape boxes. I removed a pile of the boxes to sit down, meanwhile he took his seat which was a rocking chair. He placed the rifle on his lap, and asked me what I was reading. I told him that I have been obsessing over Paul Auster’s work in general. Both of us were early fans, but lately we been having trouble getting into his new work. The drag for us, was that there were no major changes and one gets the impression that they are reading the same book over and over again. “Ain’t that the truth” he said to me. I just nodded my head yes, while thinking about that rifle on his lap.

“Joe when we get into our arguments about writers and painters, it would be great if you can place the rifle somewhere else besides your lap.” He stared at me for like 30 seconds and his face broke into a smile. “Well it can finalize our disagreements Tosh.” 

I didn’t like how this conversation was turning into an alley with no exit. “Joe, have you heard the rumors of Kenneth Anger working with Melanie Safka? Many evenings ago, I remembered Joe setting up a really funky old 16mm projector to screen Anger’s “Scorpio Rising.” He was obsessing about the soundtrack and he felt at the time that Anger was using music in a new way to tell a narrative or bringing out a mood. It always struck me odd that Joe and Anger never got together to work on a project. They both had an interest in the Magik world, and I can’t speak for Anger, but Joe had an obsession with the after-life. Often he would force me to take part in a seance and have a discussion with Buddy Holly. I rather talk to Arthur Kane, but never brought up that subject with him because of his utter devotion to Buddy. I brought up Anger’s name due to the rumors that he was about do do a film-bio on the gangster Pretty Boy Floyd, and he either wanted Melanie to do the soundtrack or star in it.

As we were chatting back and forth, he suddenly put the rifle down, got up from his chair, and asked me if I wanted some tea. “Actually Joe, I have to split.” 

He said “are you sure? I can ask Violet to put the kettle on.”

“Nah, but thanks Joe. ”

I got up and walked over to him, and gave him a hug, and as I was hugging him I whispered in his ear “A rose is a rose is a rose.” He laughed and kissed me on both cheeks. That was the last time I saw him.

The Real Buddy Holly Story 1 of 10

The Buddy Holly documentary that seems to be backed by Paul McCartney (who owns the songs) and the Holly family. I am a huge Buddy fan. i am missing one episode (chapter 9?) due to some copyright issue.

The Real Buddy Holly Story 2 of 10

The Real Buddy Holly Story 3 of 10

The Real Buddy Holly Story 4 of 10

The Real Buddy Holly Story 5 of 10

The Real Buddy Holly Story 6 of 10

The Real Buddy Holly Story 7 of 10

The Real Buddy Holly Story 8 of 10

The Real Buddy Holly Story 10 of 10