Hollywood Babylon
PG recently read Hollywood Babylon: The Legendary Underground Classic of Hollywood’s Darkest and Best Kept Secrets. A yard sale last summer had a deluxe edition on sale. The man asked PG how much he thought it should cost. “If you are going by the amount of truth in it, the price should be a nickel.” In a fit of synchronicity, PG was on his way to a party, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”. This is a repost. Pictures are from The Library of Congress.
HB is highly entertaining, despite those troubling concerns about the facts. The cover has an NSFW picture of Jayne Mansfield, where the top of her dress serves as a display case for her boobies. HB goes all TMI about the death of Miss Mansfield, but it is a model of good taste compared to Find a death. The *bottom line* is that Jayne Mansfield was not decapitated in that auto accident.
While asking Mr. Google whose jugs adorned the cover of HB, this article came up: Satan and Mummified Psychics: A Kenneth Anger Marathon at Sweat Records Tonight. Someone with too much free time was promoting an evening of the short films of Kenneth Anger. Mr. Anger, born Kenneth Wilbur Anglemyer, has the copyright credit for HB. PG suspects that other scribes helped out. In some parts, the prose is purpler than in others. Of course, when writing about Hollywood, it is fitting that a committee produced a book filled with lies. Kenneth Anger croaked May 11, 2023.
The Miami story disputes the notion that Kenneth Anger was a child star. “… a little boy named Anger was born in Santa Monica CA. He attended a school for child stars, did dance steps with Shirley Temple, and minced about as the changeling prince in the 1935 Warner Bros. movie version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. But all that might be bullshit. There’s not much documentation of Anger’s alleged child star days. The one legit source that seems to corroborate the claim is Mickey Rooney. He played Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream and he says Anger’s mommy dressed him up as the girl named “Sheila Brown” who officially played the Changeling Prince.”
A website called Vice.com managed to snag an interview with Kenneth Anger. The introduction has this story. “He went on to recount the time Kenneth showed up at fellow director and mutual friend Curtis Harrington’s funeral at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery wearing a black raincoat, eyeliner, and fingernail polish. His shirt was opened to his navel, revealing the giant lucifer tattoo emblazoned across his chest, and he was accompanied by a boyish photographer who took pictures as Kenneth kissed Curtis’s corpse before its cremation. Before he was ejected from the premises, Kenneth handed John a small plastic vampire figurine that contained mint candies inside, clarifying its original use by saying, “It’s actually a dispenser for tickle-ribbed rubbers.”
The interview had a few high moments. VICE But it did attract the attention of sexologist Alfred Kinsey, whom you befriended. Did he encourage your work?
KA Yes. Kinsey was doing interviews for his book Sexual Behavior in the Human Male, and I don’t know… What if you are not human? The title is kind of awkward, but that was what he called his research book. He was basically a biologist, an expert on wasps, of all things. When he came to LA to do interviews, I met him. He came to see Fireworks at the Coronet Theatre at a midnight showing, and he wanted to buy a print for his collection at Indiana University. I agreed, and that was the first copy I ever sold. But I remained good friends with him until the end of his life.
VICE Do you have a favorite star from this era?
KA I love the career of Rudolph Valentino, who died at 31 and had an amazing trajectory in that short time. His life continues to fascinate me.
VICE Do you continue to find new information?
KA I have plenty of information on him. There are facts, and then there is gossip. I go for the facts, but I will listen to the gossip. [smiles]
VICE Your willingness to sift through the gossip was a point of contention with some people when Hollywood Babylon was published, especially after its second printing. Some have accused you of muckraking, and others have even gone further and claim that it contains factual inaccuracies.
KA Well, I’ve never been sued…
VICE In other words, your detractors can’t prove it.
KA No one ever came up to me and said, “Well, you made the whole thing up.” Because I didn’t.
HB is a fun book, with great pictures. The stories are mostly lies, but this is Hollywood we are talking about. With its continued popularity, there will be plenty of copies at yard sales and used book stores. .
More Tales Of The City
This is a repost from 2017. It was a simpler time. Looking back six years, we had it pretty good in 2017. Our biggest problem was an orange haired idiot in the White House. In three years we would melt down over Covid. In five years Russia would invade Ukraine. In six years, Israel would crank up the lawn mower. In these six years, the national debt has gone from $20t to $34t. That is a $14t increase in six years. By comparison, the total debt in 2011 was $14t. America has borrowed more in the last six years, than it did in 235 years previously. … So much for today’s fantasy. This repost is a book report of More Tales Of The City, another fantasy from a more innocent time. MTOTC took place in the San Francisco of 1977. Talk about not knowing when you had it good. … Whales of the city is about books four and six of the Tales of the City series. In this report, your humble scribe realizes that he has yard sale copies of books two and three, but does not know if he read them. He soon learns that he had not read those two books.
More Tales Of The City, book two of TOTC, is the subject of today’s book report. It begins with Micheal Tolliver’s Valentines Day Resolutions for 1977. “3. I will stop expecting to meet Jan-Michael Vincent at the tubs. 4. I will inhale poppers only through the mouth.” Cruise ship people wonder why Michael wore a T shirt advertising Crisco.
MTOTC occupies a totally different world from the 1988 scenery of Sure of You, book six. Consuming these stories out of sequence can lead to some head scratching. Either Armistead Maupin could see the future, and had a perverted sense of humor, or synchronicity is real. SPOILER ALERT Things in various parts of TOTC will be discussed below. If you are spoiler sensitive, you can just skip over the text, and look at the pictures. These images are courtesy of The Library of Congress.
The end of MTOTC shows Michael Tolliver and Mary Ann Singleton bemoaning the departure of Burke Andrew. Mary Ann met Burke on a cruise ship. They had their moment, and Burke got a job in New York. Micheal goes back to his southern queen roots, and quotes Scarlett O’Hara… tomorrow is another day. Fast forward four books/eleven years. Burke is a married New York hotshot. He gets Mary Ann to leave San Francisco, finally, and move on to national stardom in the Big Apple.
86 is an expression meaning get out of here. On page 86 of MTOTC, we see this 1977 comment: “There are – and this is conservatively speaking – one hundred and twenty thousand practicing homosexuals within the city limits of San Francisco. … Those one hundred and twenty thousand homosexuals are going to grow old together, Arch. ….Think of it! The first gay nursing home in the history of the world!” The Arch mentioned in this sales pitch is Archibald Anson Gidde. He will die in book six. The obituary will use a euphemism.
A lot of those 120K P.H. were going to die between book two and book six. One of them is Dr. Jon Fielding, an on-and-off bf of Michael Tolliver. The two re-connect on the same cruise ship that facilitated Mary Ann’s romance. On page 109, Michael is fantasizing about having a decadent funeral. Jon listens appreciatively, then says “Don’t die, O.K.? Not until I’m through with you.” In less than five years, Jon will be through with Micheal, and everything else.
MTOTC is a fun book. It is not a documentary. A few of the plot twists will stretch your credibility. It is escapism, and is set in a more innocent era… back when things were still fun. Before we go, we need a couple of one star comments. Robert S. Marrinon “While Tales of the City had redeeming love and touching stories, “More Tales of the City” was simply filthy. I can see why it sold for one cent.” Rozanne “I can’t believe I read another book by this guy. He’s pretty awful.”
Combination Of Deodorant And Testosterone
Razor Girl is a story by Carl Hiaasen. The unpronounceable one specializes is Florida crime stories. Criminals are mustache twirling dastardly. Damsels dwell in fallen angel distress. Lawmen are a citizen complaint away from being criminals. Mr. H, a newspaper dude, says he never makes up anything, but waters down the technicolor reality.
Which brings us to Pitrolux®. This is a combination of deodorant and testosterone. The “refreshing juniper scent” caused teenage girls to steal it out of daddy’s medicine cabinet, and grow beards. Is Pitrolux® a real product? If you google “combination of deodorant and testosterone,” you might find out. Do you know what TMI means?
ClinicalTrials.gov scores with A Study of Effect of Deodorant and Axillary Hair on Testosterone Absorption in Healthy Participants. “This study will evaluate the effect of deodorant and antiperspirant use and the presence of underarm hair on the absorption of testosterone. Each participant in this study will receive 6 single doses of 30 milligrams (mg) testosterone applied as a solution to each underarm. … Deodorant spray applied to unshaved axillae. At least 2 minutes wait time. Then, single 30 mg dose of testosterone applied topically to each axilla…”
The Journal of Sexual Medicine gets down and dirty with “Effect of Deodorant and Antiperspirant Use and Presence or Absence of Axillary Hair on Absorption of Testosterone 2% Solution Applied to Men’s Axillae.” Axillary hair is the stuff that grows under your arms. Conclusions: “Absorption of testosterone 2% solution was unaffected by use of deodorant/antiperspirant or by the presence or absence of axillary hair. Testosterone solution was generally well tolerated.” Key Words: Bioequivalence, Deodorant, Pharmacokinetics, Testosterone Solution, Hypogonadism.
A reasonable person might ask, why would anyone want to study the effect of deodorant on absorption of testosterone? It seems as though this is one of the methods used by female-to-male transpeople. “In FTM testosterone therapy, testosterone (often called “T” for short) can be administered into the body in a number of ways. … Esterification of testosterone is done in order to improve the solubility of testosterone in oil, which in turn slows the release of the testosterone from the site where it enters the body.”
Does High Testosterone in Women Increase Body Odor? “Offensive body odor can cause embarrassment and self-consciousness in women. … There is no “normal” amount or smell for body odor … Although men generally have higher testosterone levels than women, women actually have more sweat glands than men.”
10 Best Deodorants and Antiperspirants for Men is an article at Beardholic. Right Guard, longtime foe of macho B.O., did not make the top ten. None of the ten deodorants reviewed contains testosterone. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. These men fought in the War Between the States. This was before the invention of modern deodorant. This is a repost.
Tommy Rotten
This is a repost from 2015. It was a simpler time. … In 1977, Rolling Stone did a piece about a “counterculture writer” named Thomas Eugene Robbins. “Tommy Rotten,” is known for colorful phrasing. It is as if Vladimir Nabokov caught butterflies with psychedelic juice in their wings, and made a lepidopterist stew that allowed him behind the looking glass. … You can tell people that my goal is to write novels that are like a basket of cherry tomatoes—when you bite into a paragraph, you don’t know which way the juice is going to squirt.” Pictures today are from Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library
Tibetan Peach Pie: A True Account of an Imaginative Life is a TER autobiography. This accounts for the page references. … On page 25, TER was on an Asian honeymoon. A Sing snake crossed their path. A guide invited the snake to dinner. The reptile was prepared with enough red chili paste to give heartburn to the human blowtorch. TER felt as though he had gargled napalm. Later, on page 145, TER would describe “many a hot, sticky summer night, when a restless Richmond felt like the interior of a napalmed watermelon.”
TER is thirteen years old on page 63. He has not joined the church, given his soul to Jesus, and been assured of salvation. These are important items on the Southern Baptist bucket list. At the end of the service, the congregation sings “Just as I am,” and kids are shamed into salvation. The Baptist ritual of pressuring pre pubescent youth into a “commitment of faith” is morally dubious. Yes, this is better than what the Roman Pedophile Church likes to do with little boys, but that’s a technicality. … The man assigned to win the soul of TER was Dr. Peters. “tall, gaunt, and pale, with a weak damp smile and cold damp palms: shaking hands with him was like being forced to grasp the flaccid penis of a hypothermic zombie….more creepy than refrigerated possum slobber.”
At some point TER is on a ship, and editing a newspaper. “…the paper’s adviser, a Roman Catholic chaplain who possessed the purplish physiognomy and perpetually petulant pucker of the overly zealous censor.” Soon TER is in Nebraska, and buys his first automobile, a “1947 Kaiser … looked like the illegitimate child of a sperm whale and a pizza oven.” TER did not specify the gender.
The Fan was the hippie district of Richmond VA, although the 1954 version was considerably tamer than the summer of love variety. TER was reading books about zen. Learning zen, by reading a book, was similar to learning how to swim by reading a magazine. Or telling time by reading a newspaper. As Ben Hecht put it, “Trying to determine what is going on in the world by reading newspapers is like trying to tell the time by watching the second hand of a clock.” … “I’d better shut up now before the woo-woo alarms go off.”
The edited version of this nonsense ended before a purple paragraph. Purple prose has long been a derogatory phrase for overwrought wordsmithery. It is now the sunday after turkey day, in the year of our satan 2023. As TER liked to say in “Cowgirls,” the state of the world is desperate as usual. TER is either 91 or 87, depending on what mood google is in. We probably will not get another novel out of him. … There is probably a good quote to end this with, but I am too lazy to look for it.
Squeeze Me
A new laptop has found its way into the world of chamblee54. The best way to make friends is to assign chores to the new device, and just do it. The first one was this poem. There were numerous challenges along the way. I never hesitated to take a break. Finally, the poem was finished, and posted. The next assignment is a book report on Squeeze Me, by Carl Hiaasen. This is a repost.
One challenge of working with Mr. H is the surname. The first google how-to, Pronounce Names, got it wrong, after running a popup ad for Lucy McBath. (The congresslady’s son was killed in Florida.) Finally, another video was found, where the man introduces himself. The proper way to say Hiaassen is HI-a-sin. High a sin. How could anyone mess that up?
SM is set in Florida, with most of the action taking place in Palm Beach. There are plenty of widows, with too much money, and way too much spare time. A group of them, called the Potussies, are Presidential groupies. A sometimes resident of PB bears a striking resemblance to a recent POTUS. The Secret Service code name is Mastadon.
Trump bashing has been the national pastime for the last few years. Most of it is unimaginative, featuring an unhealthy obsession with racial attitudes. Mr. Hiassen takes Trump bashing to a new level. Between the adderall, and the velcro wig holder, it is little wonder that POTUS cannot satisfy Mockingbird, his wife. She takes comfort in the arms of a Secret Service agent.
The plot centers around a Potussy, eaten by a Burmese Python. The snakes were imported to PB by Skink, a recurring Hiassen character. I have always thought Skink was one of Hiassen’s yuckier characters, and was happy to go through most of the book without him. Alas, when it became clear that the snakes were manually introduced to PB, it should have been obvious who was responsible.
SM is a wild ride. It is like eating a box of chocolates… you know you will run out soon, but cannot resist just one bite. Soon it will time to look up something else to get from the library. There are two volumes in the “Tales of the City” series to go. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress.
The Harder They Come
T.C. Boyle wrote The Harder They Come. It is based on the story of Aaron Bassler. A young man takes the wrong drugs, is inspired by the wrong stories, kills two men, and is killed by the police.
In one book tour interview, Mr. Boyle talks about the violence in America. There usually is a recent event to refer to. With more guns, and more anger, people are getting hurt. Rather than deliver a lecture, Mr. Boyle tells a story.
Adam is a troubled young man. He prefers to be called Colter, in honor of a frontier hero. He spends most of his time in the woods of Northern California. Adam shacks up with Sara, another lost soul. Things go relatively smoothly until the house Adam lives in is sold.
While all this is going on, Adam’s father, Sten, tries to enjoy his retirement. One of Sten’s neighbors is fired up about the Mexicans growing dope in the forests, and wants to do something. The man goes hiking in the forests, looking for drug activity. He stumbles onto Adam, who is living in the woods. After a verbal confrontation, Adam shoots the hiker dead. Before long there is another killing in the forest, and a massive manhunt ensues. After coltering his way out of danger for a month, the police find Adam, with fatal consequences.
The story is well written and entertaining, as is all T.C. Boyle product. At times the plot takes twists that are tough to believe. Sara sees a police car in a parking lot, and wants revenge. People in this tale are always getting even for something. Sara goes into the police car, opens the cover to the gas tank, and pours a container of sugar water into the fuel. This does not seem likely.
There are no easy answers. Weapons are easily available to drug addled young men. Everyone who lives in a coastal paradise is angry. Eventually it all boil over, people get hurt, and PG has a story to read. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. This is a repost.
Slaughterhouse-Five Part Three
Welcome to part three of the Vonnegutian excavation of Slaughterhouse-Five, by Kurt Vonnegut. Parts one and two have already been published. Pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”. It is written like J. R. R. Tolkien. This is a repost.
It is a lovely last day of July in Georgia. This chapter will be include chapters three and four. This project is at a lovely interlude. The rythyms and methods have been established. It is still fun to write, without the dreary duty involved in the final chapters. Hopefully it will be fun to read. It is early enough in the day that the window can be left open. Joggers and dog walkers are in the road, accompanied by baby strollers and cell phones. It is a great day in post racial Amerika.
Billy Pilgrim (BP) has been captured by the Germans. It was the tail end of the war, and most of the elite soldiers were pushing up Russian daisies. The Germans who captured BP were teenage boys and toothless old men. Their uniforms were taken off of dead soldiers. This ghoulish bit of recycling was marked by the phrase “so it goes.” It is noted in this text as SIG020.
The commander of the unit, that captured BP, was a corporal. He had been wounded four times, and sent back into action. The corporal wore golden cavalry boots, stolen off a dead Hungarian colonel. SIG021. This theme of stealing footwear from prisoners will be played out soon.
Roland Weary is well equipped. He has a spectacular hunting knife, scarves, boots, and a bullet proof Bible. When he is captured, the Germans take all his pretties away. His combat boots are taken off his feet, and given to one of the teenage boys. The boy had wooden clogs, which were given to Roland Weary. It did not work out well for the captured Amerikan.
While admiring the manly footwear of the colonel, BP hears three shots in the distance. Two Amerikan scouts were killed. SIG022. These scouts had been with BP, and Roland Weary, and had left them. Roland Weary thought thet him, and the scouts, were the Three Musketeers. The scouts thought Roland Weary was an obnoxious jerk. As KV said in another book, some people are just no damn good. Some people say that KV had a negative attitude.
While the Germans were dealing with him, BP began to time travel. He wound up in Ilium NY, 1967, when BP was 44 years old. His apparent date of birth varies throughout the text, which is not a big deal on Tralfamadore. BP, a wealthy optometrist, drives a Cadillac El Dorado Coupe de Ville. It has a bumber sticker that says “Impeach Earl Warren.”
PG was 13 yo in part of 1967, and can remember Earl Warren. The man was Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. This version of SCOTUS handed down decisions about school desegregation, and Miranda rights, that upset conservatives. Before that, Mr. Warren was Governor of California, and the Republican Vice Presidential candidate in 1948. This was an election the Republicans had no business losing, but Harry Truman got the electoral votes. Earl Warren is little remembered today. The fact that PG recognizes the name, and the bumper sticker, makes him feel old in 2015.
BP had a good life in 1967. He drove a Cadillac, and made lots of money. BP went to Lions Club meetings, where the speaker said to bomb North Vietnam back into the stone age. His daughter was about to be married. One problem is the death of a beloved dog, Spot. SIG023.
1967 was much more appealing than the 1944 reality of capture by Germans. BP, however, was an optimist, and eventually an optometrist. It was all about how you see things. BP saw soldiers with piano teeth, and corpses with blue and ivory feet. SIG024. Soon, the captured Amerikans were paraded in front of a movie camera. There was no film in the camera, but the POW did not know that. On the horizon was a puff of smoke. A battle was being fought, and soldiers were dying. SIG025.
Eventually, the POW were loaded into train cars. The cars were marked with orange and black stripes, as a signal to the allied bombers. Later, when Barbara Pilgrim was married, the tents at the reception had orange and black stripes. The reception was in no danger of enemy bombers, even though it was hosted by a time traveling former POW.
While on the train car, BP had to endure a conversation with a geriatric Colonel, whose lungs rattled like greasy paper bags. The Colonel invited everyone to a barbeque in Cody WY. After a while, PG was ushered into a different train car from the Colonel, who outranked him. Soon, word arrived that a man had died in another car. SIG026. The deceased combatant was Wild Bob. SIG027. BP was chatting with a hobo, who said he had seen much worse than this. Little did he know what awaited him. Or maybe he did know. This is the end of chapter three.
At the start of chapter four, we learn that BP’s wife is named Valencia. Her daughter has just been married, before having a reception in an orange and black tent. BP is having trouble sleeping, and goes downstairs. There is a half empty bottle of champagne. Yes, the bottle is half empty, not half full, as if that is an important distinction on Tralfamadore. BP pulls the cork out of the bottle, and there is no fizz. The champagne is dead. SIG028.
Soon, the spaceshop … no mister clumsy typist, it is a space ship, not a space shop. … the spaceship from Tralfamadore lands in the back yard. Trallies do not speak. However, they have a voice synthesizer which imitates earthling sounds. This tactic is employed for comic effect in the movie. While BP is screwing Montana Wildhack, the voice machine asks if they are mating.
Nobody dies during the Tralfamadorian abduction, and there is no occasion for an SIG. This is made up for when BP returns to the POW train. First, the hobo says “You think this is bad? This ain’t bad.” SIG 029. Then, there is a death in the car ahead of BP. Roland Weary succumbs to gangrene, brought about by marching, in wooden clogs. SIG030. Roland Weary blames BP for his death.
This is one of the moments when PG feels a bond with BP, who, it should be remembered, is a fictional character. You meet someone, under bad circumstances, who is an asshole. Something bad happens to the asshole, who follows the asshole tradition of looking for someone to blame his misfortune on. The lucky person is you. It is not always pleasant. This thought may, or may not, be with BP as he finally gets off the POW wagon. BP is the next to last person off the train. The last person off is the dead hobo. SIG031.
When the POW arrive, they are led to a pile of clothing. It was overcoats, taken from other POW, who are now taking the German dirt nap. SIG032. BP gets a civilian coat, with a fur collar. It is way too small for him, and looks like a three cornered hat. SIG033.
BP meets Edgar Derby, who will play an important role in this story. We already know this. KV does not like suspense. Mr. Derby cradled the head of Roland Weary as the asshole left the planet. SIG034. KV cannot resist the temptation to tell us what will happen to Mr. Derby in sixty eight days. SIG035.
By now, BP is naked. This is part of the introduction to POW life. By coincidence, when BP went to Tralfamadore, the first thing they said to do was take off the clothes. BP is being deloused, which is an underrated function in wartime. The clothing of BP goes through a chemical process that kills lice, bacteria, and cooties. SIG036. This is the last SIG in this installment.
Before long, BP time travels back to Tralfamadore. The trallie is explaining a few basic things to BP. At this point we get the most important quote in SF. PG read this in 1978, and never forgot it. PG looked for this quote on the internet, and nobody thought it was important enough to share. It is amazing that this should be so esoteric, as this quote is at the end of chapter four.
“If I hadn’t spent so much time studying Earthlings,’ said the Tralfamadorian, ‘I wouldn’t have any idea what was meant by “free will.” I’ve visited thirty-one inhabited planets in the universe, and I have studied reports on one hundred more. Only on Earth is there any talk of free will.”
On The Road: The End
The On The Road series is sputtering to a halt. PG seems to remember doing the first 2 chapters of part 4. He did not copy the link to the overview. The next step is to review the last 15 days of posting, to see if it turns up. It turns out PG wrote The Bike Wreck in the waiting room of a doc-in-a-box.
The injured shoulder is still a problem. Such is the life of an old fogie. Dean Moriarty/Neal Cassady and Sal Paradise/Jack Kerouac both croaked in their forties. Life fast and leave a pretty corpse. Pictures of merry prankster Neal are not pretty. Even compared to William F. Buckley, Kerouac is not pretty. Maybe the best thing to do is wallow in youtube degenerate research, take notes, and put off writing this book report one more day.
A few slack days passed. Just bite the bullet, start to write something, and maybe the creative juices will kick in. In chapter 3, Dean arrives in Denver. D&S go out looking for kicks, and come home without getting kicked. “Say, Dean gets crazier every year, doesn’t he?” “I had finally found the castle where the great snake of the world was about to rise up.”
In chapter 4 of part 4, the crew starts to go to Mexico. D&S now have a third stooge, Stan, who gets bitten by a critter, and needs to go see a doctor. Soon, they are in the endless travel vortex of Texas. “Texas was undeniable; we burned slowly into Abilene and woke up to look at it. “Imagine living in this town a thousand miles from cities. Whoop, whoop, over there by the tracks, old town Abilene where they shipped the cows and shot it up for gumshoes and drank red-eye. Look out there” yelled Dean out the window with his mouth contorted like W.C.Fields.” At some point, Dean quits talking for a few minutes, then starts back again. Soon, the border came and went.“Behind us lay the whole of America and everything Dean and I had previously known about life, and life on the road. We had finally found the magic land at the end of the road and we never dreamed the extent of the magic.”
“The boys were sleeping, and I was alone in my eternity at the wheel, and the road ran straight as an arrow. Not like driving across Carolina, or Texas, or Arizona, or Illinois; but like driving across the world and into the places where we would finally learn ourselves … These people were unmistakably Indians and were not at all like the Pedros and Panchos of silly civilized American lore — they had high cheekbones, and slanted eyes, and soft ways; they were not fools, they were not clowns; they were great, grave Indians and they were the source of mankind and the fathers of it… For when destruction comes to the world of “history” and the Apocalypse of the Fellahin returns once more as so many times before, people will still stare with the same eyes from the caves of Mexico as well as from the caves of Bali, where it all began and where Adam was suckled and taught to know.”
Before long, the boys were in Gregoria. A guide named Victor appeared. Soon los muchachos tienen marihuana para fumar. The next verse, in this Gregorian chant, was a visit to a whorehouse. “Soon it would be mysterious night in old gone Gregoria. The mambo never let up for a moment, it frenzied on like an endless journey in the jungle. I couldn’t take my eyes off the little dark girl and the way, like a queen, she walked around and was even reduced by the sullen bartender to menial tasks such as bringing us drinks and sweeping the back.”
“I was set upon by a fat and uninteresting girl with a puppy dog, who got sore at me when I took a dislike to the dog because it kept trying to bite me.” Dean had no such troubles. Dean Moriarty, or real life destination Neal Cassady, was a legendary stud. Everybody Knows, Nobody Cares, Or: Neal Cassady’s Penis. When you ask if the Cassady hopalong was cut, or uncut, you are directed to That time Gore Vidal porked Jack Kerouac. To Mr. Vidal’s surprise, Mr. Kerouac was circumcized.
As Allen Ginsberg/Carlo Marx knew, Neal’s goodies were not for ladies only. At one point early in their relationship, Carolyn Cassady/Camille saw more than was customary and reasonable. “What was so wrong with three people who loved each other sharing a bed at the same time? Lu Anne asks in “One and Only” (Heart Beat … shows Carolyn discovering Lu Anne in bed with Neal and Allen Ginsberg.)” Lu Anne Henderson, Marylou in OTR, was Neal’s first wife.
The boys go on to Mexico City, another gone party out of control. Sal gets some kind of tourist bug, and is deathly ill. “I didn’t know who he was anymore, and he knew this, and sympathized, and pulled the blanket over my shoulders.” Dean needs to get back to his wives, and leaves Sal to fend for himself. You knew I was a scorpion when you gave me a ride.
Part five is only a few pages long. Sal gets back to New York eventually. Dean sends him a letter. “I wrote to Dean and told him. He wrote back a huge letter eighteen thousand words long, all about his young years in Denver, and said he was coming to get me an personally select the old truck himslef and drive us home.” This letter was said to inspire Sal’s not-writing-typing style, and may have been plagiarized. “The letter was put up for sale at Christie’s in 2016, but failed to reach the $400,000 minimum. It was offered again in March at Heritage Auctions, where Emory purchased it for $206,250, including buyer’s premium, according to information on the auction house’s website.”
So much for the gasoline soaked adventures of Dean and Sal. The previous installments of this series are available. part one part two part three part four part five part six Pictures for part seven today are from The Library of Congress. This is a repost.
2:07 P.M.
PG started to feel the familiar stiffness in his big toe. While it was not painful, it could get worse. PG decided to take the offensive, and get treated before the stiffness turns to pain. This means going to the herbal emporium of Dr. Xu. You go to the office , and sign in. He sees you when he sees you.
When facing quality time in a waiting room, it is best to bring a book. The reading material for PG these days is Skinny Legs and All, by Tom Robbins. PG read SLAA in the early 90’s, when he was working in an office downtown. Like all Robbins stories, a re-do reading will uncover noisy nuggets of knowledge, and forgotten figments of imagination.
While warming up the vehicle, PG saw the word “orchidaceous” on page 197. If something like the o-word gets PG’s attention, his response is to note the page number, and put an inkpen dot on both sides of it. As it so happens, on this day PG was looking at page 198, and saw “then allowed” with a ball point bump on both sides. This was referring to a New York art dealer.
The full sentence was “It was as if Gropius had created her, then allowed Gaudi to add the boobs.” The art-monger in question had an unremarkable face, but a generous mammary allowance. The bosomy business lady was discussing the art of Ellen Cherry Petway. At the same time, a vehicle, crafted by Boomer Petway, was eliciting exclamations of magnifque. The automobile was crafted to look like a giant turkey. It had been delivered to Ellen Cherry Charles as a love offering before the wedding. Now, the sheet metal bird was stealing the thunder of Ellen Cherry, who considers herself to be the artiste. This was not a good development for the recently consummated marriage.
The Petways are soon going to trendy New York parties. Ellen Cherry has this country-girl notion of what an art party should be like, and finds the real thing to be lacking. Boomer has another reaction. “I guess that’s what I like about ’em. … They’re just as petty as everybody else.”
Petty is one of those eye-of-the-beholder concepts. Certainly, the current social justice discourse in America explores new levels of petty every day. The five letters p-e-t-t-y can be retrofitted with all five vowels, with y left to ask why. Patty, petty, pitty, potty, putty. All five work. Even pitty does double duty as an “obsolete spelling of pity,” as well as the stage name of a Brazilian rock and roll lady.
PG stumbled onto the art party comment at 1:24 pm, soon after he got down to some serious waiting. A half hour later, Ellen Cherry tore up an invitation to Boomer’s one man show. The arty paper turned into mutually destructive snowflakes and sparks. Could Tom Robbins have foreseen the contemporary disrespect for snowflakes in 1989, when SLAA was written?
Snowflakes and sparks made their appearance on page 207. At 2:07 pm, PG was consulting with Dr. Xu. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. This is a repost.
Smash Cut
Smash Cut by Brad Gooch, turned up at the Chamblee library. The subtitle is “A Memoir of Howard & Art & the ’70s & the ’80s.” The cover has a picture of Brad Gooch and Howard Eric Brookner. The 1979 picture shows BG (google does not know his middle name) and HEB is a small, well used kitchen. Someone wrote, and then scratched out, “at the Chelsea Hotel.” In the notes, we see that BG and HEB were boyfriends in 70s and 80s Manhattan. At some point, HEB got AIDS.
April 27, 1989, was HEB’s last day on the planet. I was 16 weeks into not drinking. HEB was seven days older than me. There are many other parallels between my life, and the concurrent Brad/Howard story. Their story has a lot more famous people involved.
HEB was a filmmaker, with wealthy Jewish parents. He met BG at a bar in Lower Manhattan in 1978. They go back to Howard’s place, drink vodka, and crash. They quickly become boyfriends, and have a terrific time together when they aren’t quarreling about who is fucking who. Howard is working on a movie about William S. Burroughs. When you hang out with Mr. Burroughs, it is considered good manners to take heroin. This becomes a problem for HEB.
Meanwhile, BG was in grad school at Columbia, finishing a PhD in English. He wound up as an English professor at some college. You kind of wonder how BG had time to write a PhD dissertation, while diving into the full tilt sex and drugs of pre-aids Manhattan. Nor do we ever find out how they paid for all this high octane living.
BG becomes a model, hanging out in Europe for a while. HEB decides he doesn’t want to be BG’s boyfriend anymore. That continues off and on for a few years, until that day in 1987 when HEB finds out he is HIV positive.The first year it doesn’t really cause that many problems, but then it does. The last 40 pages of this book are incredibly tough to read. HEB goes into the hospital, it seems like he’s never going to come home. BG gets a job as a professor, and publishes a novel, in addition to being there for HEB. Eventually, HEB got another o.i., and moved on.
Smash Cut is the third book by BG I have started. The Flannery O’Connor book is excellent. The Rumi book has too many unpronounceable names. SC is an fun read, full of gossipy stories about people like Andy Warhol, Madonna, and Keith Haring. The publicity machine is already cranking up for book that BG wrote about Mr. Haring. If the last 40 pages of SC are too difficult, you can skip over it. You already know how it is going to turn out. Pictures today are by The Library of Congress
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.”
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