BOB WALKER a.k.a. WALKER. inadvertantly helped found the original Blue Note. was an infrequent presence in Como for most of the 80's before his untimely death. Oddly, Bob was never convicted of a felony in his lifetime.
LARRY LEVIS
poet and bon-vivant (though not an especially lively one) whose presence loomed Vader-like when i arrived in (pre Star Wars) columbia in 1975. Larry loved the music scene here and was himself charismatic performer a la lou reed even when reading his "flat spoken and ignorable" poetry. levis even published a poem in the New Yorker magazine ("after the blue note closes") which was a celebration, albeit a rather dark one, of the indie rock scene here. i will never forget sitting in a Larry's class one evening around dusk in 1976 and listening to him recite amiri bakara's "preface to a 20 volume suicide note---
Lately, I've become accustomed to the way
The ground opens up and envelops me
Each time I go out to walk the dog.
Or the broad-edged silly music the wind
Makes when I run for the bus...
Things have come to that.
And now, each night I count the stars,
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted,
I count the holes they leave.
Nobody sings anymore.
And then last night, I tiptoed up
To my daughter's room and heard her
Talking to someone, and when I opened
The door, there was no one there...
Only she on her knees, peeking into
Her own clasped hands.
FORREST ROSE
Forrest (pictured on right circa 1984),man.
what can i say but that it took practically this whole fucking town to replace forrest in my life... and i didn't see him that much when he was around.... the guy who taught me the meaning of the "long time gone".
trish squires
this sounds gratuitous but i can personally verify this: Trish is the woman who brought black spandex to columbia (as far as i can tell she anticipated the 80's defining female fashion trend by a few years...anyone got a date on that phenom?), trish was a quintessential "gal's gal" who served well as an arbiter of both class and kitsch (see pic) in late-70's columbia. A TRUE ARTIST she and cohort kent loeffler hosted more than a few memorable happenings (including an all night, all weekend yardsale where i bought a piece called "GLAMOURISE": a torso mannequin with trish's pubic hair attached aappropriately (?).. where is that piece now i wonder? probably looted by the nazis......THIS JUST IN FROM KENT-2005 IN UPSTATE N.Y.so you wound up with Glamarise! I always wondered what happened to her. In Rochacha we had a day-glo torso lamp with a huge shade named Electrolux. Wonder what happened to her. Thanks for putting up the bit on Trish, it'd really crack her up. If you're really bored sometime check out my lab web site: http://ppathw3.cals.cornell.edu/PhotoLab/Default.htm not nearly as much fun as yours-but with more rotting veggies.
MICK JABOUR & review la booche
in the 70's booches owners dethrow,jabour and rappold quietly published a poetry journal out of this pool room. doesn't sound like a revolutionary act but try telling that to ossie and the boys back then. the old school ,pre-levis referant for poetry locally then was and is now TOM MCAFEE
What is Love?
Walk with me now, I'll have the setting right:a pond, idyllic pasture, woods, an orange sundown, breeze, quiet./Now tell me what us love. I could conjugate hate. I could diagram cruelty. I thrive on lust. i could write an encyclopedia on the meaning of meanness, murder, mal. I don't know what is love. What is love?/1. La Barucci, courtesan, hit hard times:Broke, consumption,the parties gone. Paul Demidoff, good man, in Paris, Paid her to sit in a good strong wind, And he would drown her with Seltzer water. Demidoff laughed. La Barucci coughed and was paid. Then, soon, la Dame aux camelias died. --Tell me, tell me. What is love?/2. "Even such is Time which takes...in trust" our beauty. Would I love you scarred? Would I love you Lost in Insanity? Or would I turn and go To some exotic place where beauty is always? Before you answer, What is love?/3. The mother will kill for her babe. The father will kill for hid friend. The lover will kill for his love./Each one will walk away. At the drop of a word. Each one will live in hate At the drop of one word. Tell me, What is love?/Even with this setting, you have not answered me. The sun is down. Night sound come from the woods and from the pond. You have walked away. I stand in darkness with my question. The moon's false light comes on. Why did you not answeer--at least, that you didn't know?
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