Howl-A-Thon
This is a repost from 2011. The facebook links to pictures from the event work in 2023. (one two) Some of the people were strangers in 2011, but are friends today. Pictures today are from Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library.
PG was in the audience for the Howl-A-Thon Friday night. He sat in the back row, so he could discreetly leave when he got bored. To his surprise, he stayed to the end.
The scene of the event was the E church in Candler Park. The church is a classic granite chapel, originally built for an African American congregation. PG used to attend a “circle of healing”, that was held in the sanctuary. Some of that magic came back during the Howl-A-Thon.
PG found an updated version of “Howl”, which he called Howl 2011 (a.k.a. the anti howl). He thought it would be fun to read at the event. However, the Howl-A-Thon was tightly planned, and there was no room at the inn. It was suggested that PG read the updated Howl on the steps of the church. … The 2011 link to the Howl satire has an amusing message for 2023.
At 7:20 pm, PG stood up, and read “I saw the greatest hopes of my Christian nation destroyed”. No body stopped to listen, although a few shouted approval of key phrases. Most of the time, PG was reading for himself. It had an artistic feel to it. When he went inside, PG introduced himself to someone he had known 13 years ago. This person asked if PG had written that poem.
After a while, the MC smashed a pie pan against the microphone, and the performance began. He introduced Mr. Ginsberg to the audience, noting that the self promoting bard sent a copy of his work to William Faulkner. After this presentation, a young lady stood up and began to read a poem. She alternated reading with another man, until the first part of the show was over.
An evening of reading poems, by a dead beatnik, sounds dreadfully dull. The Howl-A-Thon was cleverly staged, and made the time go by fast. The title poem was read by 6 authors, with cheers for the parts that got the work banned in 1956. PG kept an eye on the door, but the police never arrived.
There was one part of the evening that PG would have changed. A young man read a poem about Mr. Ginsberg’s last day job, as a baggage handler at the Greyhound station in San Francisco. (The facility used to have a seedy building next door, The Atlanta Hotel.) If anyone had asked, PG would have said, please turn the intensity down a couple of notches. After the young man was through, the MC asked if anyone had a phone book for him to read.
The high point of the evening was reading Kaddish . The poem is the story of Naomi Ginsberg, the poet’s crazy mother. There is an image of the 12 y.o. Allen riding a bus, depressed because he couldn’t do anything for his mother. To anyone who has grown up with madness, it is a powerful image. The healing magic from 20 years ago came pouring out of the walls, to surround PG in lavender light.
Dark And Stormy Night
“I was stark naked, stoned out of my mind on heroin, and between my legs giving me head was Janis Joplin.” These 21 words open Going Down With Janis. Peggy Caserta was allegedly the gf, and definitely the heroin buddy, of the chanteuse.
There isn’t anywhere to go from there but up. As it turns out, the intercom is full of people who supply good opening lines from literature. It saves you the trouble of reading the rest of the book.
Here are Top 10 Most Outrageous Opening Lines in Literature, in reverse order. Three quotes are included from the comments. Ten are from opening sentences, which advertises Filipino Cupid. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. This is an edited repost from 2012. Most of the links in this paragraph no longer work.
THE HITCHHIKER’S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY Douglas Adams 1979 “Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun. Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-eight million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue-green planet whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea.”
NEUROMANCER William Gibson 1984 “The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.”
NOTES FROM THE UNDERGROUND Fyodor Dostoyevsky 1864 “I am a sick man . . . I am a wicked man. An unattractive man, I think my liver hurts.”
ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO’S NEST Ken Kesey 1962 “They’re out there. Black boys in white suits up before me to commit sex acts in the hall and get it mopped up before I can catch them.”
TRAINSPOTTING Irvine Welsh 1993 “The sweat was lashing oafay Sick Boy; he wis trembling.”
FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS Hunter S. Thompson 1971 “We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like ‘I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive . . .’ And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming, ‘Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?'”
THE METAMORPHOSIS Franz Kafka 1915 “As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.”
Pride and Prejudice Jane Austen, 1813 “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.”
The Catcher in the Rye JD Salinger, 1951 “If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.”
Moby Dick Herman Melville, 1850 “Call me Ishmael.”
Peter Pan JM Barrie, 1911 “All children, except one, grow up.”
Anna Karenina Leo Tolstoy, 1873-7 “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”
Women Charles Bukowski “I was 50 years old and hadn’t been to bed with a woman for four years. I had no women friends. I looked at them as I passed them on the streets or wherever I saw them, but I looked at them without yearning and with a sense of futility. I masturbated regularly, but the idea of having a relationship with a woman—even on non-sexual terms—was beyond my imagination.”
The Bible author unknown Genesis 1: “In the beginning God created the heaven and the Earth”
Naked Lunch William S. Burroughs “I can feel the heat closing in, feel them out there making their moves, setting up their devil doll stool pigeons, crooning over my spoon and dropper I throw away at Washington Square Station, vault a turnstile and two flights down the iron stairs, catch an uptown A train… Young, good looking, crew cut, Ivy League, advertising exec type fruit holds the door back.”
Publicly Shamed
When an author has book product, the author gets interviewed. This is how PG first heard of So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed, by Jon Ronson. The act of using “the media” to promote book product is a curious analog to shaming. To have the exhibitionism on the wtf podcast, starring the shame-proof Marc Maron, is an item on the irony buffet. This is a repost from 2015.
Justine Sacco made an unwise tweet about AIDS and white privilege. She landed in South Africa to discover herself notorious, and unemployed. The tabloid press said Max Mosley was at a Nazi themed sex party. He sued the paper about the Nazi part, won a settlement, and boasted of being a player. The tabloid newspaper got caught in another scandal, and was shut down.
This being non fiction, Mr. Ronson goes all over the place. There is a $500 a seat weekend seminar on “radical honesty.” There are academics, of various levels of intelligence, who write about shaming, prison techniques, and other trivia. There is a company who floods the internet with flattering stories about you, so that the trash goes to page three of google. There are also more people whose lives were ruined by public shaming. One example is the rape victim who committed suicide after her cross examination.
The star shaming saga is donglegate. (spell check suggestion: congregate) Two young men at a tech conference made a tacky joke. A lady, Adria Richards, took a picture of the young men. Immediately, the picture was on twitter. @adrisrichards Not cool Jokes about forking repo’s in a sexual way and “big” dongles Right behind me.
In her interview with Mr. Ronson, Ms. Richards said she felt that the dongle joke jeopardized her safety. “Have you ever heard that thing, Men are afraid that women will laugh at them and women are afraid that men will kill them?” “People might consider that an overblown thing to say”… She had, after all, been in the middle of a tech conference with eight hundred bystanders” “Sure And those people would probably be white and they would probably be male.”
While researching donglegate, Mr. Ronson talked to some people at 4chan. There was a comment made. It went into the preview copies of the book, but not the final edition. This is part of the the publicity process. Someone took offense at this comment, and made an issue out of it. For more details see this story, File under ‘inevitable’: “So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed” author Jon Ronson slammed by Twitter-shamers.
In all of these tales, Mr. Ronson’s name was spelled correctly. Some say there is no bad publicity. Whatever is said creates awareness of your product. There is a lot of awareness for SYBPS, and Mr. Ronson, right now. @jonronson Feeling incredibly sorry for #RachelDolezal and hope she’s okay. The world knows very little about her, her motives.
Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. Picture #06662 is from “Second International Pageant of Pulchritude and Eighth Annual Bathing Girl Revue, May 21, 22, 23, 1927, Galveston TX.”
A David Bowie Book
David Bowie: A Life was sitting on the biography shelf at the Chamblee library. It is an “oral biography.” Dylan Jones gets the blame, and the copyright. He took a bunch of interviews, and curated salient passages into a narrative. It is a fun book to read, full of sex, drugs, and rock and roll.
The Amazon one star reviews beg to differ. Guitar Gregg “I thought this would be biography not assorted comments. Very few comments from David Bowie. Who cares what Debora Harry or hundreds of “Joe blows” have to say? No pictures? 500 pages? Too much too little. Buy his cd’s instead.” worst read ever “Belongs in the fire … worst read ever!”
PG enjoyed DBAL. At some point, the lurid tales of depravity got too quotable, and PG started keeping a list. In this book report, we will use this list, until the list, or the reader’s attention span, is exhausted. There may be another installment. Part one was published last week.
“There’s one instance — probably included just so it would be cited — about someone calling Bowie’s room in New York with an offer of a still-warm corpse. “The town had never seen anything like David before,” says onetime groupie Josette Caruso. “And he obviously looked like such a freak that some sick people thought he might be into necrophilia.” (He wasn’t.) (Page 142)
Page 146 “He (Lou Reed) had an auteur complex, and Bowie didn’t fit into that. Lou was also a prime member of the awkward squad. He could lose a charm competition with Van Morrison.” In 1972 David had gone through years of struggle, and was starting to make it. After the Ziggy Stardust tour, he was hot. At this time, David wound up helping two struggling artists, Lou Reed and Iggy Pop
The Elton John/Rolling Stone article was published during one Iggy phase. “May 1975 — It’s four in the morning, Hollywood time, and David Bowie is twitching with energy. … Bowie clutches his heart and beams like a proud father watching his kid in the school play. His whisper is full of wonder. “They just don’t appreciate Iggy.” he is saying. “He’s Lenny fucking Bruce and James Dean. When that adlib flow starts, there’s nobody like him. It’s verbal jazz, man!” … Bowie and Iggy never did make it back into the studio. Pop slept past the booked time, called up drunk several nights later and when Bowie told him to “go away” — meaning “hang up” — Iggy did just that. Now he’s disappeared. “I hope he’s not dead,” says Bowie, “he’s not a good act.” Iggy will show up later in this story.
Page 151 has stories from the Ziggy tour. In Seattle, the entourage went to a gay bar, and someone invited David to a party. When the next day came, and the tour needed to go to the next city, David was nowhere to be found. When he finally called the hotel, all he knew was that he was in a house, with a lot of trees around it. A hotel employee talked to David on the phone, and they managed to figure out where he was.
Page 155 Lori Mattox was a fifteen year old rock fan in 1972. “We got to the Beverly Hilton, and all went up to Bowie’s enormous suite. … We were getting stoned when, all of a sudden, the bedroom door opens and there is Bowie in this beautiful red and orange and yellow kimono … “Lori, darling, can you come with me? … Of course I did. Then he escorted me into the bedroom, gently took off my clothes, and de-virginized me.”
There is a lot of text about David’s sex life. The boy got around, in spite of, or because of, his open marriage with Angela. Apparently, nature was generous with David. While performatively gay during this era, David made plenty of exceptions with ladies. DBAL is an entertaining book.
Page 176 Ava Cherry was a girlfriend who stuck around. “… and yes, we did have some fun together. We were staying at the Sherry-Netherland one night in New York, where David had given a party for Rudolph Nureyev. At the end of the party, everyone was gone apart from me and David and Mick, (Jagger) so it just ended up with the three of us sleeping together.”
Page 263 87 pages later, David has burned out on American rock stardom, and is living on top of an auto parts store in Berlin. This is the phase which produced Low and Heroes, two creative, though non commercial, efforts. Iggy Pop is back in the picture. Longtime assistant Coco Schwab never left. Iggy Pop : “There’s sevent days in a week: two for bingeing, two for recovery, and three more for any other activity.” Coco Schwab “I remember one elevated subway ride where you ride into East Berlin with no checkpoints and then back out with Absinthe into the west. Trust Jim (Iggy) to find that one.”
Page 277 David meets Adrian Bellew, who is in Frank Zappa’s band. David is talking to Adrian about doing a tour with David. At some point, the two go to a restaurant, where they run into Frank Zappa. “…David tried to strike up a conversation with Frank, saying “This is quite a guitar player you have here” And Frank said, “Fuck you, Captain Tom.” David persisted, and said “Oh come on now, Frank, surely we can be gentleman about this?” And Frank said, “Fuck you, Captain Tom.” … so David said, “So you really have nothing to say?” To which Frank said, “Fuck you, Captain Tom.”
Picture are from The Library of Congress. Russell Lee took the photographs in April, 1941. The setting was Chicago, IL. The bar at Palm Tavern, Negro restaurant on 47th Street. Chicago IL Having fun at roller skating party at Savoy Ballroom. Chicago IL This is a repost.
Hollywood’s Eve Part Four
This is part four of a book report on Hollywood’s Eve: Eve Babitz and the Secret History of L.A., by Lili Anolik. More chapters are available. one two three Pictures for this profusion of confusion are from The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library.
RACHEL KUSHNER: You mentioned to me (in an email) that you learned new things about yourself from listening to that (very juicy) podcast by Lili Anolik on Bennington College. Can you say more? BRET EASTON ELLIS: It was just odd to hear your life presented as a kind of oral history lesson and even odder to realize that this era at Bennington has somehow become a compelling story for a lot of people. If only we knew back then, I think we might have behaved a bit differently. I think there was an overemphasis on drugs (maybe not) that surprised me, and some publishing stuff surrounding Less Than Zero that I don’t quite remember in the same way a few editors do. I also learned a lot about Donna Tartt, which I hadn’t expected.
BEE is the thread that runs through all of these rags. I first heard about Eve on his podcast, including the Earl McGrath quote. Lili was a guest, probably when she was promoting HE. Lili, at some point, did a podcast series about Bennington College, featuring BEE. Finally, Eve wrote a blurb for Less Than Zero, when BEE was a young nobody.
185 “Eve wasn’t attempting books, though she did blurb one, the debut of a valley boy, a mere sixteen when he completed the first draft. “This is the novel your mother warned you about … Jim Morrison would be proud.” … BEE met Eve after LTZ was published. “My memory of Eve in the semi darkness of Ports in 1985 is that she was very buxom, very flirtatious, great smile. She wasn’t a ditzy Southern California girl. She was almost a parody of that idea. And then through the parody, this no-nonsense intelligence would come out.”
Ports was an accessory for Eve during the squalid overboogie days. “Forty years ago today, on Feb. 9, 1970, a burly actor named Jock Livingston and his artist wife, Micaela, opened an extraordinary, eccentric, and eventually rather legendary restaurant called Ports, across the street from Goldwyn Studios on Santa Monica Boulevard in West Hollywood. … The place had formerly been a bar called Sports Inn and Jock had climbed up a ladder, … and removed the first letter and the last three. … Micaela had very definite ideas about the people who dined and drank (and worked) at the establishment, and she expressed them with a biting wit. When one brash young man was overheard complaining loudly that he’d been sitting there for 10 minutes and hadn’t gotten menus, she said, sotto voce, “You haven’t even earned your napkins yet.” When a regular described a vapidly handsome young waiter as looking like an 8×10 glossy, she added, “Yes, and only on one side.”
Self promotion is important in the BEE-Lili-Eve world. Capitalist BEE is currently hustling The Shards. Lili returns the favor on facebook: “Lili Anolik reads the iconic opening of Less Than Zero. Return to 1980’s Los Angeles with Bret’s new novel, The Shards, on January 17th. Pre-order now.”
One page 198, Mirandi Babitz enters. Mirandi (née Miriam,) the younger sister of Eve, was a valuable source for Lili. Mirandi was an important part of the story. Mirandi was dating Julian Wasser when he took the chess photograph. Mirandi owned a leather shop, and made a pair for Jim Morrison.
222 “Miranda watched Morrison perform at the London Fog, then called Eve.”You have to see this guy, he’s Edith Piaf with a dick.” Eve stopped by the club the next night, seduced Morrison the night after that … her description of Morrison was pretty irresistible, and Eve, as a rule, didn’t resist.”
241 *”I’m not going to identify this famous lover or any of the other famous lovers mentioned in this section. Why not? To paraphrase Eve, so I don’t get sued!”
250 “… after we’ve brought Eve to the Village Idiot for a lunch of Ale steamed mussels and deep-fried brussel sprouts and cinnamon-sugar-dusted churros, after Eve dragged me to a nearby 7-Eleven so I can buy her $100 worth of British tabloids and disposable e-cigarettes” When Lili caught up with Eve, the LA woman was in reduced circumstances. Eve never really had a job, and when she caught on fire, there were $$ problems. Even in her glory days, Eve knew how to work people. What are tits for?”
Lili pursued Eve. There was a profitable story to be told. Lili saw a payday, took Eve to lunch, and bought her prezzies. When Eve finally accepted Lili’s invitation, the author flew from New York to Los Angeles the next day. Being a doctor’s wife has its advantages. The End
Hollywood’s Eve Part Three
This is a book report on Hollywood’s Eve: Eve Babitz and the Secret History of L.A., by Lili Anolik. More chapters are available. one two four Pictures are from The Library of Congress.
109 Eve’s Hollywood was the first book Eve published. Even with a salacious cover photo by girlfriend Annie Leibovitz, the book did not do well. Goodreads has a page of quotes, some of which may not be from EH. “I dressed next to her in gym (on my other side was this nice girl named Cathy whose only flaw was that she was kind of gullible and that kept me from being too shocked when I saw her in Life magazine crouched under a rock as one of the “Manson Family” and called Gypsy).” … “You can’t read Proust at the Laundromat.”
EH is dedicated to a bunch of people, many of whom are famous. One was her Hollywood High English teacher, Harry Major. “And to Mr. Major, I’m sorry I turned out this way.” Mr. Major died February 10, 2014, at 82. He would write young men in prison, and offer them a place to stay. Scott Kratlin took him up on his offer, and showed his appreciation by murdering Mr. Major.
114 Carrie Fisher wound up in Eve’s orbit, even if nobody could remember later. The answering machine at the Fisher house had this message. “Hello and welcome to Carrie’s voice mail. Due to recent electroconvulsive therapy, please pay close attention to the following options. Leave your name, number, and a brief history as to how Carrie knows you, and she will get back to you if this jogs what’s left of her memory. Thank you for calling, and have a great day.”
135 * “Beth Manville is, like every other character in Slow Days Fast Company, a real person, Her name was Peg Thorsdale, and she was the best friend of Petey Mazza (“Jo Marchese”), wife of Aldo Mazza (“Mason Marchese”). And same as Beth, Peg killed herself. Petey was upset by Eve’s story, and what she thought was an unfair swipe at Peg. Slow Days s became a source of tension between Petey and Eve, which, Eve being Eve, scarcely noticed. A strange coincidence:”… Slow Days was reissued in 2016. The publisher had Petey and Aldo’s copy. … “ the inscription: 4/24/77 To Petey and Aldo. Without you I’d be nothing. Love, Eve Babitz. Under Eve’s name was a lipstick kiss, the pink still bright, even after all these years.”
123 * “As I mentioned in the previous section, Fiorucci was the very last work of Eve’s that I read. I did not have to pay $2,000 for the privilege as I feared I might. In the summer of 2016, Jewish Family Services cleaned Eve’s condo. A copy was found. She let me borrow it for the afternoon.”
HE was written before the publication of I Used To Be Charming, a collection of articles Eve wrote. IUTBC contains Fiorucci, another payday for Eve. Here is what chamblee54 said: “Fiorucci, the book takes up the last 48 pages of IUTBC. Eve wrote text for a collection of graphics from the Fiorucci fashion emporium. Fiorucci closed its retail stores in the eighties, and is mostly known today because it rhymes with Gucci. “Zeigt und erklärt, wie und warum Fiorucci in den 70ern und 80ern bigger than life war. Das Buch ist Kunst, Marketinghandbuch und Poesiealbum in einem.”
Hollywood’s Eve Part Two
Publishing Hollywood’s Eve Part One had an unexpected complication. When tweeting the link, I thought it would be cool to tag author @LiliAnolik. Only one problem … the link would not come up. I thought her name was spelled Lily, with a y. Fortunately, WordPress is easy to edit, and I was about to correct this. … So it is another day. The episode will actually be about the Hollywood’s Eve: Eve Babitz and the Secret History of L.A. Lili has a lot of *notes, for details that don’t fit her narrative. One way to cover HE is to go through the *notes, and see what they inspire.
016 * “Eve has told this story both orally and in writing many—many times as in many—many times. Though the major details remain constant, the minor change. … I went with this one for no better reason than because I like it best.” Julian Wasser was a photographer, a bf of Mirandi Babitz … Eve’s sister … and a California player in 1963. He took a famous picture of Eve playing chess with Marcel Duchamp. Eve’s fashion statement in the picture was very well received.
023 “What are tits for?” * “A rhetorical question posed by Eve, in casual conversation.”
034 “New York is hot in the summer, so I got a boyfriend who had air-conditioning. Ralph Metzner. Ralph was part of Timothy Leary’s team. I hated Tim. He was an alcoholic, and he always ordered everybody around as soon as he walked into a room. He made me type all his lectures, and he couldn’t write.” Eve went to New York in 1966, stayed a year, and had a lot of adventures.
044 “In every young man’s life there is an Eve Babitz. It is usually Eve Babitz.” This observation is in every piece ever written about Eve, so we can now take that off the to-do list. It is blamed on Earl McGrath, who was a well connected piece of work. “I was researching a piece on Andy Warhol and … Edie Sedgwick and received a message …He needed to reschedule the day of our interview. “ Earl’s memorial service has been postponed to let the smart set at Jerry Hall’s wedding to Rupert Murdoch fly across the Atlantic including the bride and groom.”
Earl McGrath is one of the degrees of connection that populated Eve’s life. Earl came from humbled beginnings, and charmed/fucked his way into friendships with many famous people. Eve met Earl one morning at Peter Pilafian’s house. Earl came by one morning to hit on Peter, and became friends with Eve. Earl and Eve were faghag buddies, until they were not. Earl appears in “Slow Days Fast Company” as a toxic queen. … Earl does not have a wikipedia page. Nor does Lili Anolik. As best I can determine, Earl did not have a middle name.
060 It is another rule … all stories about sixties California must mention Charles Manson. “The first time I saw Sharon was at the Cafe’ de Paris in Rome. It was 1961, the same year I saw the pope. I couldn’t believe anyone was that beautiful.” Later, Bobby Beausoleil stayed with Eve for a week. “He’d worn a sign that said “I am Bummer Bob.” I let him stay but hadn’t slept with him because anyone who called himself that, I figured, must have the clap.”
097 *”Once when we were at lunch a woman—Eve’s age—perfectly pleasant seeming, waved from a neighboring table. Eve didn’t return the wave. I asked Eve who the woman was, and she said, eyes wide, voice grave, “That’s my enemy.” (Eve and the woman had, as it happened, shared a boyfriend forty years before.)”
100 Eve wrote to Joseph Heller: “I am a stacked eighteen-year-old blond on Sunset Boulevard. I am also a writer. Eve Babitz.” This letter is another part of the Eve legend. As in other Eve stories, there are several versions, so you must pick the one you like. In this interview, Lili says that Eve had an affair with Mr. Heller. Google does not confirm this detail.
Pictures today are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library.” Other parts of the Hollywood’s Eve series are available. one three four
Hollywood’s Eve Part One
Lilianne O’Likk: “I have a problem with objectivity. I always think it’s a pose. Why would I be moved to spend five or six years of my life on a subject that I was neutral about? With this book, I clocked my subjectivity from the start. Cold-eyed subjectivity is what you need to write a good book. I’m extremely tough on Eve. The fact that I love her doesn’t mean I’m going to be soft on her.”
This quote is from “Lili Anolik on Eve Babitz …” It is one of the podcasts I found yesterday, while writing a book report on Hollywood’s Eve: Eve Babitz and the Secret History of L.A. Hardcover, by Lili Anolik. The book is all over the place. This book report will follow suit.
A primer is in order. Eve Babitz was a groupie. A pretty young lady in California, who partied with many famous people. Eve wrote a few books. One, Slow Days Fast Company, is pretty good. After the eighties hit, and she joined AA, a slow decline set in. In 1997, she set herself on fire, and nearly died. The next twenty four years were spent processing all that input. Chamblee54 wrote book reports on SDFC and I Used To Be Charming, a collection of magazine articles written by Eve.
“The adjective scale goes descriptive, comparative, superlative … good better best … i am not sure which one is applies to normal.” This thought came up in a chat conversation, and is a good way to start this appreciation of Hollywood’s Eve … I am not sure how this is going to work, which is another Babitz Bestie. Eve … I would say EB for the middle-nameless Eve, but Eve is only one letter longer. We should be grateful that Sol and Mae did not have a son named Steve . … maybe i should just listen to the podcasts I found with Lili Anolik, dig dirt on google, and finish this post later. I can always find something in the archive for chamblee54.
I am validating my admiration for Lili Anolik. First, it is pronounced Ann-o-lick … vaguely suggestive, but not anal ick. (Maybe Eve thought Lili was Miss Anal-Ick when she decided to answer the phone calls, and they bonded over the analickiness.) I found a bunch of podcasts that she did while self promoting. Lili Anolik on … was only 10 minutes long. It provided the tasteful quote above.
How Long Gone is two over-the-hill potheads talking trash, until their guest appears. The babblethon at the start is going to last longer than the first podcast. At 22:47, they send Lili a “zoomie”. I listened to about ten minutes of Lili talking about what shoes her husband … a New York Dermatologist … wears. Listening to this pablum is too much work, even for art.
I thought it would be cool to include a link to Dr. Anolik. When googling “Lili Anolik husband”, the first result is When You’re Married to a Dermatologist, All You Need Is Eye Cream. When the pothead podcast opens, they are hustling Soft Services Buffing Bar, a skin care product. One of the young men cannot afford to use SSBB on his XXL butt. Product promotion is a lifestyle choice.
Fortunately, a third podcast had some solid information. The Eve story has a clear beginning, middle, and end. When Lili connected with her, Eve was a mess. The next passage is a google-docs-transcript from podcast number three. It has been edited for easier reading, not accuracy. Just like Eve.
“I finally did get to her, she was living in, it wasn’t squalor, it was so much more extreme. It felt almost like she was a cave dweller. I mean the level of filth, and the darkness of that apartment, and the stench of that apartment, was so extreme, it was just despair…. it was madness, she smelled like madness. I mean it was beyond anything I’ve ever experienced in my life and if I went into that apartment, I don’t think I’m a squeamish person, but I would have to walk around the block like four or five times before I call a cab or Uber.” …
Lili mentioned the Eve aroma in the book, but not in such graphic terms. The book was published in 2019, and created in the years before that. Eve died December 17, 2021. She had Huntington’s Disease, which may have been a factor in the squalor that Lili saw. At some point before her death, Eve went into assisted living.
Pictures are from The Library of Congress. The Hollywood’s Eve series is available. two three four
Slow Days, Fast Company
On the last wednesday of 2021, I read the last paragraph of Slow Days, Fast Company: The World, The Flesh, and L.A. by Eve Babitz. Bret Easton Ellis mentioned EB, and SDFC, several times on his podcast. I ordered SDFC from the library. While reading it, on December 17, Eve Babitz died. Did I kill EB, by reading her book? This is a repost.
SDFC has been described as the work of an unapologetically shallow California girl. It is true. Then EB references Virginia Wolff, or Diane Arbus. In one story, EB (no middle name) goes to a gated community in Orange County for the weekend. The people there are so Nixony! Later, one of the ladies commits suicide. EB plows ahead without missing a beat.
EB was gonna design an album cover for Janis Joplin, and went to meet her. Janis was in the studio. The music was painfully loud. Janis was passed out on the floor of the studio. A few days later, EB went to visit Janis at some hotel in Los Angeles. Janis was laying up in the pool face up, not drowning but obviously on a distant planet.
SDFC is an amazing book. It’s not very long, broken down into nine stories. EB went to Bakersfield to hang out with the son of a grape grower. Another is when that EB hangs out with a lady who is a musician, and heroin user. EB thinks that heroin is very glamorous, for other people. EB was a big tequila fan, and consumed a few plane-loads of white powder. SDFC is set around 1973, before the democratization of cocaine in the eighties.
After the demise of Joan Didion, and EB, Bret had Lily Anolick on his show. She did a podcast series about Bennington College. The lady … whose name is not anal-lick … wrote Hollywood’s Eve: Eve Babitz and the Secret History of L.A. Amazon had a one star review: Totally the C Word “After reading this book I thought I was going to have to go to the clinic and get treated for VD. Incredible, did she really have sex with this many people?”
SDFC is written by a woman, from a woman’s point of view. Here is a sample. “Women want to be loved like roses. They spend hours perfecting their eyebrows and toes and inventing irresistible curls that fall by accident down the back of their necks from otherwise austere hair-dos. … The only time men fall in love with roses is on douche commercials.”
Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. Second International Pageant of Pulchritude and Eighth Annual Bathing Girl Revue, May 21, 22, 23, Galveston, Texas, 1927. This article includes the picture of a naked EB playing chess with Marcel Duchamp.
The Soho Press Book Of 80s Short Fiction
The Soho Press Book of 80s Short Fiction turned up in the Dekalb Library system, and has provided some cheap thrills. One negative review catalogs a few of the charms.”Beware. Raw, graphic sexual content. I had intended this as a reading group choice. It was a pre-order so I had no forewarning or list of titles (“Sodomy” would have given me pause). Cover listed Raymond Carver, Mary Gaitskill, Amy Hempel, Jamaica Kincaid. Book arrived with cover detached.”
Weird Fucks Lynne Tillman is the first story. A young lady has an eventful summer. She takes up with a married man, whose wife dries her hair in the oven. Is this what happened to Sylvia Plath?
So Much Water So Close To Home Raymond Carver was a delight. I had listened to several of Mr. Carver’s stories read on youtube, but never read the text. SMWCTH is a tasteful story. Just-plain-folks go camping, and see too much.
Sodomy Gary Indiana jerks us off back into a New York state of mind. A man is talking about two of his late seventies boyfriends. One is a terrific fuck, but not much else. The other is a confused, off-and-on emotional connection. Mr. Indiana talks about 1978 as being “before the war.”
The Angel Patrick McGrath is the story of Harry Talboys, an eccentric old man who estivated in lower Manhattan. The old man lived his days in a gin fueled haze, while telling tales of his former glory. Eventually, the young man who wrote the story couldn’t take anymore of the old geezer.
River Of Names Dorothy Allison is tough to read. It’s about a lifestyle that I am blessedly unfamiliar with. A hyper productive South Carolina family gets through life, sometimes. RON opens up with one of the sisters taking a pail of soiled rags out to the fire. This scene involves the sense of smell.
Secretary Mary Gaitskill “A young woman, recently released from a mental hospital, gets a job as a secretary to a demanding lawyer, where their employer-employee relationship turns into a sexual, sadomasochistic one.” This is where the tales get funky. There is a connection to a movie and the description of the movie sounds different from the story … there’s no mental hospital discharge in the story. The young lady seems to be just a helpless young lady, who lives with her helpful parents. She gets a job in a law firm. The lawyer turns out to be a terrible person, who likes to beat her. She has a curious relationship with the whole thing … it’s a disturbing tale.
Wrong Dennis Cooper If Secretary wasn’t fucked up enough, the next story is by Dennis Cooper. Some guy lives in lower Manhattan during the seventies, and goes around killing people. Until he gets killed himself, and then goes on a deceased person monolog.
Debbie’s Barium Swallow Laurie Weeks makes william burroughs look like dick, jane, and sally. “There’s a guy named Benny lymphoma tracking … God or whatever Satan daddy lifts my skirt like he does at the slightest whim … what words can Debbie use for this secret procedure … she crawls and shakes with fever in the toxic dirt crawling one knee before the other … bitching from 34th Street to 35th a node shaped lip traveling from … your job in the … Hospital’s authoritative smoothing fekade” Pictures today are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library.”
Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest 2022 Part Two
Part Two of the 2022 chamblee54 report on The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest is here. (BALL wear LIT uhn) Parts one and three are there. Pictures for this affair are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library.”
It was a dark and stormy night, made darker still by the melancholy that gripped the drainpipes of my soul in a plumber’s wrench of despair that opened the u-trap of my consciousness to remove the last, great greaseball of hope. Jim Anderson, Flushing, MI
I stood transfixed at the eerie sight before me, so strange, so odd, so peculiar, so weird, so bizarre, so eldritch—Gods, mine ocular ducts weren’t meant to witness such blasphemous heresy—so indescribable, beyond all possible descriptions, at least in any kind of adjectival way!
Gabriel Burch, Edmond, OK
Even though the heavy snow forecast threatened transportation problems at the mountain pass leading to the social engagement of the season, every invited member of the party had RSVPed in the affirmative, for the single reason that the Donner family chef was nationally recognized for his all-vegan menu. John Hardi, Falls Church, VA
Clear, plump jellyfish lay scattered across the beach, like so many discarded breast implants.
Sara Corris, Brooklyn, NY
The trees sighed with pleasure as the wind caressed their limbs, the lake lapped contentedly at the shore, the grass waved cheerily to all and sundry, and the moon smiled benignly between the playful clouds while George buried his latest victim. Nick Waites, Bishop, Auckland, UK
“The clouds resembled an endless roll of runaway toilet paper that unspooled itself into a massive fluffy pile, the sound of the lightning banged like hundreds of inadvertently dropped toilet seats, and the rain quickly flooded the street and spilled over the curb like a toilet clogged with who-knows-what,” reported eyewitness to the sudden storm and flash flood, Steve Talbot of Steve’s Plumbing. Mark Meiches, Dallas, TX
The pallid North Dakota winter coughed its phlegmy wind in my face, spattering my face with its icy spittle. Andrea Dumas, West Fargo, ND
I’m very very good and I know this because momma told me and all her bridge friends that I was an angel she got when the stork dropped me from the sky and she says I’m such a good girl so if you want to be with a real honest to goodness angel tonight come on down to the corner of Bitcoin and Pussycat Way for a very special time with an angel who accepts American Express.
Sharon Durken, Port Wing, WI
When Big Rita was on parade in a tight skirt, moving like a burlap bag full of bobcats, the men in town sat up and took notice, knowing the hunt was on, for she had run the gamut from wealthy philanthropists to dopeheads and bikers, though, until today, she had maintained a shred of dignity by always rebuffing English professors. John Hardi, Falls Church, VA
Doghouse Roses
There is a synchronicity to writing about Doghouse Roses in the downstairs parking lot at Walmart. DR is a collection of stories, written by Steve Earle. PG was only vaguely aware of Mr. Earle when he stumbled onto DR at the Friends-of-the-Library table. It turns out that Mr. Earle is a country music star, prison veteran, drug addict, seven time bridegroom, and a great American. It is possible that some of the DR tales are autobiographical.
The title story kicks off the collection. A terminally addicted former country star is being driven home by his wife. On their way out of LA, they go to the hood to buy some rock. While there, the dealer is wasted by an angry handgun. The story, like most of DR, is entertaining, and sort of believable.
Some high minded types read to become a better person, in one way or another. To PG, education/inspiration/motivation are all well and good, but not nearly as important as entertainment. If DR has any life lessons, they are well hidden. PG just wants to pass the time, until the nurse comes to the waiting room, and calls his name.
Over the weekend, PG read a 22k word essay by James Baldwin. If PG is brave enough, there might be a blog post forthcoming. Mr. Baldwin is not fun to read. “But white Americans do not believe in death, and this is why the darkness of my skin so intimidates them.” After wading through 22306 words of this, PG has done his duty reading for the summer.
Getting back to DR, the third story is about a drug runner in Mexico. “The American” displays a knowledge for some subtleties of life in Mexico. He crashes his plane, and just barely makes it back home. “The American” is in two more of the DR stories. We don’t know if he is based on a real person, or the result of Mr. Earle’s well lubricated imagination.
Since this was a used book purchase, there is no need to take DR back to the library. DR is 207 skinny pages. There is still room on the shelf. Pictures today are from ” The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library. “
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