i don't think you have any idea how much i scream like a little girl at your entries.
tillmans is my favorite photographer. i have his book with the little mousey poking his face out of the airmail package. my other favorites are jack pierson (i saw his sculpture in the late 80's for the first time, just simple recreations of his little flat in the east village. completely amazing). and ryan mcGinley so now you have a very clear idea of my major aesthetic. ok very busy over here. but i am working on responding. btw, i think this is the last time i'll trip out for awhile on allen ginsberg for a bit (i go through whirlwinds)—i have absolutely outdone myself on allen. he's amazing on prosody, though. he's sort of like rumi for me. a little too much and you get extremely uhm —they both just dive right into desire and go into something i imagine autism to be like, that happens to me too, i mean my descriptive qualities get very anvil-like. or like bam-bam. that's why i'm loving what you are/how you are describing right now. space and desire and smiles. tillmans has those wonderful snapshots of airplanes coming in for a landing or taking off.
i thought i'd leave you with this from an interview he did (as placeholder) it's a political thing for him (desire and love), the strangeness nesting in home, an uninteresting "i'm so high!" here and there rather than tenderness, there's exuberance, weirdly.
lots of other facets of yourself we should be able to count on as lovely and as home. and that a tender heart demands vast amounts of tenderness, too. and consideration. not a life in death, but a death in life. remember when we were talking about transitional moments in language? rNA or little worker bees busy in areas of translation (observer, translator, subject/sensation of motion in time or language), or just getting blown and noticing and smiling. and of course i'm remembering one halloween when we were in a deli buying cigs and there were some ladies dressed as bees. YOUNG LADIES IN BEE SUITS IN THIS DELI. RIGHT NOW.:AG: I think the text of the "Gospel of Noble Truths" hasn't been printed anywhere. It's a gospel style song, for blues chord changes one/four/one/five/ and next stanza return to one. There's another reflection of that theme in a poem I wrote along on the Rolling Thunder Review.
Lay down Lay down yr Mountain Lay down God
Lay down Lay down yr music Love Lay down
Lay down Lay down yr hatred Lay yrself down
Lay down Lay down yr Nation Lay yr foot on the Rock
Lay down yr whole Creation Lay yr Mind down
Lay down Lay down yr Magic Hey Alchemist Lay it down Clear
Lay down yr Practice precisely Lay down yr Wisdom dear
Lay down Lay down yr Camera Lay down yr Image right
Yea Lay down yr Image Lay down Light.
Nov. 1, 1975
PBC: Is Dylan the "Alchemist" in those lines?
{...}
AG: Yeah. He's said some very beautiful, Buddha-like things. One thing, very important, was I asked him whether he was having pleasure on the tour, and he said, "Pleasure, Pleasure, what's that? I never touch the stuff." And then he went on to explain that at one time he had had a lot of pain and sought a lot of pleasure, but found that there was a subtle relationship between pleasure and pain. His words were, "They're in the same framework." So now, as in the Bhagavad Gita, he does what it is necessary to do without consideration of "pleasure,"
OK ALLEN WE GOT IT! it's actually got a lot to do with what you've told me and what i'm thinking over. keep going pls. the word "highest" is used, as straightforward and we can't hope that "I" is a description of the person next to us, or even ourselves. i like to think that we dream together, and the hope goes so far into an idealised home. jack pierson's work did that at one point: "joe, French Guy". "Mark D. Model in Penthouse". "Guy who stole 6 bucks". "Jimmy M. Butch..." and then we can look at our own lives and constellations and know that the ideal is ridiculous, our idea of the ideal is less interesting then our true home, and those who take your hand and trust your heart.
what are you cooking for the friends you're taking to kiki and herb at the knitting factory afters? we're having drinks and stuff at diner. and tomorrow is my post birthday dinner at alta. because i've had a birthday dinner almost every night this week. because i am the birthday girl. even if, as you say, they don't quite know what to make of kiki, often because they have comprehension problems, i'm super glad that it will be pleasurable for them to see you writhing with pleasure on the couch next to them. and also, that's what we're here for. raw shards of everyday illumination, a place for friends. we might go the beach with the puppy, too. mom gave me card, an old new yorker cover, of a big red heart seen floating in the sky thru an open window. made me cry.
the other thing i'm newly fascinated by is "the spatiality of time". hello world worlding. seriously was i passed out my first few months in california? this should not be new to me. oh, that's right. i was in the WOODS. did you know i was a conservation & resources policy studies nerd? and then, not. i got fed up with gary snyder's son on a council of all beings retreat. he was sort of a fascist shit about poetry, obvs.
anyways, working on something for you. xoxo
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