Long time ago at a Zap comix party in North Beach with S. Clay Wilson, old Lawrence buddy. Was late and I am leaving. Say to Wils "I'm going home." He says: "Go outside. I'll get you a ride." I lived in Haight then, long walk from North Beach, but went out and sat on curb of deserted Grant St. Up came a paisly painted porche 911, door opened. a voice like mine now hollared: "Mcarrrrrry you wanna ride?" It was Janis and we flew to the Haight stopping not once for any lights...red, green, yellow or whatnot. It was perfect end to good nite. Her roommate was a friend of Wils . We got to Haight and she pulled up and jumped out. Me too. Said "later" to each other and went on home. Then she died. .
Sometime in 1990's and I am in Lawrence. Stopped at bookstore on way to Burroughs house to cook him meat loaf dinner. Kathy Acker in store sitting, bald headed at a computer. I asked her if she wanted to come to Williams for dinner. She said no, she was doing some research. Who knew. She was bald. It was a style. I was ignorant. She stayed in Lawrence a while and then went back to NYC. And died from her cancer.
I have a copy of Pussy King of the Pirates signed by Acker that I am saving for the poet AB's daugher in OP. Maybe when she is older. It is also signed by S Clay Wilson who did the end papers for Acker. He is now slowly disappearing physically, mentally and spiritually as a result of a traumatic brain injury.
Sue and I just got back from a trip to Mexico. It was warm and full of life. I could die now. Not the best thing but then again.......what is? Oh wait I have a reading scheduled on March 31!
Lot of talk around poetics webworld about maleness, meanness, fuckyouness, I am pissedoffness....hateness and endless..........stuff................
I have done what I done. Done it. What more to do. Can be done.