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Showing posts with label beats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beats. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

MY NEW VIDEO - 'KEROUAC: KING OF THE BEATS'

OK... Making this one was fun. So there are plenty of Kerouac videos out there. This is a short video I created that tries to capture the aura, essence and bravado of the tough guy scribe. Have a scotch for me, Jack, wherever you are...

And by the way, when in hell is someone going to make a Kerouac biopic?? Looking at him in some of these portraits, I nominate Daniel Craig. Yes... James Bond. They sorta look alike.





Wednesday, January 2, 2008

THE ZEPPO MARX OF THE BEATS


While watching my new DVD "What Happened to Kerouac?" (a Christmas present), I inadvertently discovered an awesome beat poet - Gregory Corso.

Check out this awesome short poem from the collection "Gasoline"

"Birthplace Revisited"
I stand in the dark light in the dark street
and look up at my window, I was born there.
The lights are on; other people are moving about.
I am with raincoat; cigarette in mouth,
hat over eye, hand on gat.
I cross the street and enter the building.
The garbage cans haven't stopped smelling.
I walk up the first flight; Dirty Ears
aims a knife at me...
I pump him full of lost watches.


Here's a brief bio:

Gregory Corso, the only major Beat writer to have the forethought to actually be born on Bleecker Street in Greenwich Village, was sent to prison on a robbery charge at the age of 16. He probably would not have made poetry his life's work if he had not met Allen Ginsberg in a Greenwich Village Bar when he was 20.

Corso met Ginsberg in the Pony Stable Bar, one of New York's first openly lesbian bars. Corso, only 20 and recently released from prison, was supported by the women of the Pony Stable as an "artist-in-residence". Corso was writing poetry there the night Ginsberg arrived. Ginsberg, cruising bars, was immediately attracted sexually to Corso. Ginsberg later said, "The Pony Stable was I think a dyke bar... I just wandered in and I remember he was sitted at a table, and he was a very nice looking kid. Alone... So I thought, was he gay or what was it? Maybe not." Ginsberg was even more struck by reading Corso's poems, immediately realizing Corso’s talent. "One he showed me...blew my mind instantly...and it struck me instantly that he was... spiritually gifted." Eventually Ginsberg introduced Corso to the rest of his inner circle.

In their first meeting at the Pony Stable, Corso showed Ginsberg a poem about a woman who lived across the street from him, and sunbathed naked in the window. The woman turned out to have been Ginsberg's girlfriend during one of his forays into heterosexuality. Ginsberg introduced the young and virginal Corso to the sunbathing woman, and in a panic, Corso ran from her apartment. Ginsberg and Corso remained life-long friends and collaborators.

In later years Ginsberg’s initial assessment of Corso held. During an 1996 interview for the documentary film Corso – the Last Beat, Ginsberg claimed, "I think Gregory is the poet's poet. Certainly the one poet I learned from most now. Gregory, I think, in some respects is a poet superior to myself."

He went on to become one of the most well-known and widely-read Beat poets. He has an anarchic style similar to Ginsberg's, though his favorite poet is Shelley, a Romantic poet who was much too flowery for most Beats. He does not write with Ginsberg's massive intelligence or protean poetic power, but then who does? He once wrote a love-poem to atomic weapons, 'BOMB', in the shape of a mushroom cloud.

Wednesday, May 9, 2007

THE OTHER SIDE OF JACK KEROUAC


Enjoy the review of this book, located proudly on the shelves in the library of Hemingway's Lounge. I reviewed the tome YEARS ago, but the book it still a consistent seller at Amazon. Enjoy!

Like Hemingway, writer Jack Kerouac has ingrained himself into the very fabric of “The American Literary Experience. Where Hemingway was distinguished, Kerouac was cool. The pop culture’s guy’s guy.

A hip scribe who’d think nothing of hopping a freighter in the middle of nowhere and arrive at an even more remote destination and work as a farm hand earning just enough for a pack of Chesterfields, a bottle Dewars and, possibly, a copy of the newest Charlie Parker LP. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about conforming. The “nine-to-five” wasn’t in his vernacular.

That’s why it’s so surprising (albeit, downright quirky) to see “Door Wide Open: A Beat Love Affair in Letters,” a collection of postcards, letters and poems where Kerouac corresponded with girlfriend Joyce Johnson between 1957-58. Filled with the same literary scatting and spontaneous prose Kerouac was best known for, “Doors” starts in a Greenwich Village Howard Johnsons right before the publication of “On the Road” made him a household name. Broke and womanless, poet Allen Ginsberg set up a blind date between the 35 year-old Kerouac and 21 year-old aspiring writer (and beat groupie) Joyce Johnson.


Interspersed between letters, Glassman’s commentary reads almost like guilty-pleasure fiction in this supreme soap opera of star-crossed beat lovers.’ With no second thoughts,” Glassman writes, “I rushed downtown to meet him, who at 34 was one of the most compelling-looking men I’d ever seen, with black hair, blue eyes, and ruddy complexion. ...After an hour or so of conversation, when Jack asked whether he could come home with me, I answered with deceptive coolness, ‘If you wish.’ Young women were not supposed to have such adventures in 1957.” Kerouac stayed with her for three weeks and then took off on one of his soul-searching jaunts to Africa (specifically Tangiers), thus beginning the affair of letters that lasted about two years with the King of the Beats globe bopping from New York to such locales as Paris, San Francisco, Orlando and Mexico City.

The exchanges between them give the reader the almost voyeuristic opportunity to experience beatnik life in the fifties as well as catching a glimpse of the tender side of Kerouac that has yet to emerge:
” Got your fine letter - Yes, we’ll find you some place to stay in the city when you get here,” writes Kerouac from Frisco. “...I’ll meet you at the bus station (or some pre-arranged bar) and I’ll carry your bag and we’ll go find a room. ... You’ll love it here, it’s great... There are art museums, beaches, glorious parks, those Chinese restaurants, wharves, waterfront, all kinds of interesting scenes and people , lotsa jazz, friends to make. Just ignore me, my gloom, unless I feel better when you get here. As ever. - Jack.”
Yet at times, the roguish charm that was all too much the real Kerouac intrinsically breaks through and the reader can almost hear the young Johnson cringe as she reads her boyfriend’s frank letters:
“Look forward to seeing you,” Kerouac writes from Tangiers, “lonely here, don’t like whores anyway and no girls speak English.” Ouch. To that all Johnson says, “It was as if he forgotten for a moment whom he was writing to. But I decided not to probe into the question whether or not Jack was seeing other women - a policy I would later try to stick with much greater difficulty.”
As Kerouac struggles with a bewildering fame, readers will find the work an remarkable portrait as he struggles to cope with his public, dodge critical attacks against his subsequent works and teeter totter his relationship with the only woman who might have truly understood him.