July 30, 2014

July 30, 2014

Ah!, the summer of love.   I was 12 years old when I first went to London with my parents, and that trip for me was like traveling through Alice’s rabbit hole.  I have gone back to London numerous time, but like the first kiss, the first trip was the magical one.  For one, I met Alexander Trocchi with my parents at his flat somewhere in the capital.  At the time, I had the faint knowledge that he contributed a piece to my dad’s art/poetry/journal “Semina,” but that is about it.  I knew nothing else about him.  What impressed me the most, at the time, is when he began to shoot up heroin into his arm.  At that point and time (I was 12 remember) I never saw anything like that in my life.  I was intrigued because he kept the conversation he was having with my parents while he prepared his gear, and eventually shooting the dope into his arm.  At the time, it was shocking to me, because I never ever even seen a needle in that sense.  As a child I had to get numerous shots through school, and I always looked away when the needle went through my skin.  Having a shot in the arm did not bother me personally, but the worst part of the whole procedure is standing in line with other kids and their parents, and hearing the child in front of me scream their heads off.  As one got closer to the screened-off room in the gym, the worst the knots were in my stomach.   Here in London, I couldn’t keep my eyes off him and his arm.  I remember his arm also being scarred with scabs and other markings.   The odd thing, is that he didn’t excuse himself or asked if it was OK, he just did it in front of his guests.

It was obvious to me my parents were not happy to see this in front of their eyes, and I think were concerned that I was in the room as well.  But the official policy in a sense, was not to hide me from anything unpleasant.  Although oddly enough, the only thing I was’t allowed to watch or see was the Tod Browning film “Freaks.” Which of course made me want to see the film even more, but at the time of my youth, that film only existed as film stills in various Monster fan magazines that I used to devour each month.   I was intrigued by the thought of actually seeing real live side-show freaks, because to me, it was just an illusion and I wasn’t sure if they even existed.  It wasn’t till I was in my mid-twenties, when I actually saw the film.  I’m happy to say that the film was worth the long wait.  Around that time I went to a donut shop on Melrose Avenue, here in Los Angeles, to get some morning coffee.  To my surprise I stood behind a man who looked exactly like the Elephant Man. His face was deformed with huge tumors, and his mouth was misshapen as well as the rest of his head.  Even now, I feel it was a dream, but the truth is I did see this man.  It was a strange setting to see him in a donut shop, early in the morning.  I remember the girl behind the counter was sort of freaked out, and it was hard to understand what he was asking for, due that his voice was affected by the way his mouth was deformed.  It was sad, horrifying, and weird at the same moment.

My memory of Alex was that he was charming, but there was something terribly off about his behavior with respect to his heroin use.  I have met many junkies in my life, but never witnessed one shooting the works in their system.  Also besides me and my parents, he had a small child roaming the flat as well.  He or she must have been around 1 or 2 years old.  Nevertheless, as I got older I would run into Alex’s work in the most strangest places.  He was a writer who showed up in moments of critical incidents or times of world literature.  The Paris Review, the Situationists, the Beats… he just appears like a ghost, and then if you look again at his direction, he disappears.  Totally fascinating.

July 12, 2014

July 12, 2014

I have been writing poetry for my whole life. Yet it is difficult to describe the horrors and put that on paper.  I usually write with green ink, because for me, that color represents desire and hope.  But to be honest, it is futile to think that I can change the world with my writing, and whatever it’s green or black ink, it comes out white on white piece of paper, and barely readable. I’m intrigued by the art of the sentence, the way the lines break on a page with respect to poetry.  It is these little pleasures that keep me on the page and holding onto my pen. On the other hand, I don’t see much hope for the world outside my studio or writing space.

I have always been fascinated by a world that I wasn’t allowed to see.  As a small child I pretty much learned to read by devouring “Famous Monsters of Filmland” edited by Forrest J Ackerman, especially articles on Tod Browning.  As a ten-year old, I had a favorite filmmaker, yet I never saw any of his films.  I just loved the film stills I have seen in the magazine, such as “Dracula, ” and anything with Lon Chaney.  I was intrigued with Chaney due that he wore the most bizarre and scary make-up.  The photograph of him dressed up as the Phantom of the Opera, scared me, but everything he did with Tod Browning as his director, seemed impossible to see, especially when you are ten-years old, and this was all before VHS video or DVDs.  The one film that seemed taboo was Browning’s “Freaks.” Quite often, “Famous Monsters of Filmland” would have articles and images from this film, and it truly captured my imagination.   I couldn’t draw, but I could write, so I started writing poems devoted to the images I have observed in the magazine.  As a teenager I started to read French surrealist poetry, and I was struck with the image of filmic horror and the surrealist imagination, as being married, or perhaps connected to the hip, like the Dolly Sisters.

As a poet, I strived to be as cold as Richard Stark’s “Parker, ” in that I want to plan out the poem as a route on a map, or at the very least a destination from there to here.   To take everything that is out there and make it into my home, or at least in a position where I can control or contain a world that I can call my own.  Like my favorite poet, Max Jacob, I’m often at odds with the world, which in turn hates me.   Everything I have done in life has ended up as failures, on the other hand, I wear ‘failure’ as a badge of pride.  Like Thoreau, I’m interested in the idea of survival in the face of hostile elements, historical change, and the most important, natural decay.   I think this is exactly what I sense with respect to the figures and characters I saw in “Famous Monsters of Filmland.” To survive in a world that is hostile to the monster, the vampire, and best of all, the side-show circus freak, captured my imagination and my soul.

A lot of my childhood friends played with toys like G.I. Joe, and I think later they were in a position to join a culture that was open and friendly to them.  I, on the other hand, was on the side of the mad poets and monsters.  As a young adult, I became attracted to the work of Alain Cuny, a French actor who was likewise a close friend of Antonin Artaud. He appeared in numerous films made by Fellini, but the role that I am mostly impressed with is the character that he played in “Emmanuelle.” He played an older man named Mario who convinces Emmanuelle that monogamy will die out, and that lust will win out over guilt or reason.  He leads Emmanuelle to one sexual adventure after another, and like the characters in the monster magazine, I have found another hero.

The sad thing in life is that I just have notebook after notebook with writings in green ink, that is barely readable. Yet I continue, because as I said, the destination is just a direction, in which I don’t think will bring me to a conclusion.