So I picked up the Boston Phoenix yesterday and came across an article/book review on the new compilation of Jack Spicer’s poetry, “My Vocabulary Did This To Me,” Edited by Peter Gizzi and Kevin Killian and published by Wesleyan Press. Those who know me, or know this blog, know that Spicer is on my All-Star team of influences. The fact that a new Collected is coming out is absolutely essential, as his books are largely out of print.
Friend, confidant, and poet extraordinaire Martin Cockroft had planned on using Spicer’s former “Collected Books” for a course a few semesters ago and found he couldn’t since the book was out of print… it was nearly a hundred bucks to score the old paperback.
I told him he should make his students buy it anyway, as it would be worth that much more than the other trash they were required to read. Luckily for everyone, Martin seldom listens to me.
Recently I met with my MFA thesis advisor, teacher, and poet extraordinaire, Joanna Klink, and she said something about teaching Robert Duncan this semester and I asked after Jack Spicer (the two were former friends turned rivals, as Spicer thought Duncan sold out). She filled me in that this new volume was about to drop, and was the hot thing in poetry now… which of course I knew nothing about. So I was excited to see it getting some airtime in the Boston Phoenix.
I’m happy to see Jack in action again, if for nothing else, to see his old poems in a hardcover format. There is plenty to know about Jack, and as I have said before, two non-poetry poetry books I recommend to any aspiring poet include “The Last Avant-Garde” by Lehman and “Poet Be Like God,” a bio of Spicer. Basically, the guy was a ferocious alkie, was out of his mind (he thought he could control pinballs through telekinesis, that Martians were dictating poems to him, and after swearing to never watch TV… got angry when he saw it that no one had ever told him how wonderful it was, etc.) and was an extraordinary poet who still has yet to be fully appreciated.
Also, all poets should be confronted with Spicer’s “Poetry As Magic” workshop questionnaire that participants in his workshop were required to fill out before being granted admission. The questionnaire is included in the “Collected.”
According to Robin Blaser, Spicer’s last words on his deathbed were “My Vocabulary Did This To Me.” I’ve never believed this, mostly because Blaser, too, seems bananas, and it seems a too poetic demise for a poet. But it is a good story anyhow.
In my world of influences I have Spicer (1925-1965) on one side of the country, Frank O’Hara (1926-1966) on the other—both magnetic leaders of a movement (San Francisco Renaissance for Spicer, New York School for O’Hara), both tragically dead at 40 (Spicer of alcoholism in a hospital room, O’Hara of an unfortunate meeting with a dune buggy). They are like rival gang leaders (they disliked one another) whose fight emerges in my poems from time to time.
The Phoenix article isn’t bad: http://thephoenix.com/Boston/Arts/73434-Review-My-Vocabulary-Did-This-to-Me-The-Collecte/
The photo above is from The Phoenix site as well.
Hard to pin down how much Spicer is in my poems. I steal from him mercilessly, his lines get varied slightly and dropped into mine, his ideas on art and poetry influence mine greatly, and I love his work. I worked on a series of poems that were me thinking of Spicer, travel, airplanes, barrooms, jukeboxes, and love that is titled “Pinball Music.” A few of these poems have appeared in journals (Borderlands, South Boston Lit. Gazette, and the recent Kerouac-inspired anthology, Where the Road Begins).
Basically, if I gave you three poets to read, Spicer would be on the list. Here is the funny part: There is a review in the Phoenix, Spicer is the bomb, and the world is crying for real poetry… and there are no copies to be found. I checked a couple Border’s and Barnes and Nobles and they didn’t have it. You will likely need to do what I did, shop Amazon, to get a copy of this gem. Go do it!
Yellowcard Coincidences
I know that my blog starts to look like a Yellowcard fan forum at times, but give me a break… I love them.
But this isn’t a fan-drooling account of how Yellowcard’s “Gifts and Curses” is one of my fav songs, or how I wish Ryan Key would get his ass to Beantown. Rather, I had an interesting coincidence this weekend.
I finally watched the movie “Big Fish” (thank you NetFlix) after it had been recommended by countless advisors over the past 5 years. I would gather this has something to do with my endless stories of my father, Al Eidsvig, who was the epitome of a “Big Fish” (although his stories… joining the army at 14, playing pool left-handed, wrestling a grizzy, are actually true), as his stories have become a part of me. I often say things like, “it’s like my father used to say…”
-Shit in one hand and wish in the other and see which fills up first.
-Women are like busses, there’s another one coming in ten minutes.
-If your nose runs and your feet smell you’re built upside-down.
(yes, I added the grizzly part above)
Anyhow, many people have recommended the movie to me. Maybe also due to the shoes being cast over the telephone wire (which shows up in my poem “Counting”). So, thank you all for the recommendations over the years, the movie was great… Then again, how can you go wrong with Obi-Wan Kenobi?
How strange is it that my spell-check didn’t catch Obi-Wan? This is included in Microsoft’s dictionary?
Anyway, I watched the movie and liked it, and then that night I was on YouTube. There was a video “recommended” for me by their program, and I clicked it. It was titled “How I Go, lyrics” or something. Now me being recommended Yellowcard videos is nothing new from YouTube, as they are my staple. BUT, it is strange that I clicked on one (I hardly ever do) and here is the weird part…. I am listening to the song (which I have heard many times before), and reading the lyrics, and I am like “WHAT??? This is about Big Fish!” Which I just finished watching like two hours earlier.
Of course I’m not the only one to have understood this connection. I was shocked and did some googling, some Wikipedia-ing and this is common knowledge… that the band wrote a song about the movie (my first search was for the soundtrack which I figured the band had provided the song for…. but no). Plus, there are other youtube vids that feature clips of the movie, etc.
The weird part is just the time proximity and the connection. Jack Spicer would understand. He thought he was a radio for Martians for crying out loud.
I loved the movie, like the coincidence, and there is tons on YouTube and otherwise about this. The song is a lot better now that I know what they are talking about. Even though I usually prefer their peppier stuff.
Pic above is from Wikipedia.
What am I Up to?
As some know, I’ve been working on a long piece of fiction, or a screenplay, or a couple of long pieces of fiction, or something. This is a horrible thing to tell someone, a s it sounds pathetic, but it is true.
Anyhow, I am also listening to the Jonathan Lethem audiobook, “You Don’t Love Me Yet,” as read by the author. Almost once a minute I either laugh out loud at how cool his writing is, or how funny it is, (and how unbelievable it is that he kicks so much ass), or think “you gotta be kidding me,” it is so good. Basically makes me want to hang up my cleats.
Also, looks like the Farnsworth show will include the new painting, “Pink Angels,” as well as “Flight Pattern.” More on that when I know.
Pic above is from Amazon.
Friend, confidant, and poet extraordinaire Martin Cockroft had planned on using Spicer’s former “Collected Books” for a course a few semesters ago and found he couldn’t since the book was out of print… it was nearly a hundred bucks to score the old paperback.
I told him he should make his students buy it anyway, as it would be worth that much more than the other trash they were required to read. Luckily for everyone, Martin seldom listens to me.
Recently I met with my MFA thesis advisor, teacher, and poet extraordinaire, Joanna Klink, and she said something about teaching Robert Duncan this semester and I asked after Jack Spicer (the two were former friends turned rivals, as Spicer thought Duncan sold out). She filled me in that this new volume was about to drop, and was the hot thing in poetry now… which of course I knew nothing about. So I was excited to see it getting some airtime in the Boston Phoenix.
I’m happy to see Jack in action again, if for nothing else, to see his old poems in a hardcover format. There is plenty to know about Jack, and as I have said before, two non-poetry poetry books I recommend to any aspiring poet include “The Last Avant-Garde” by Lehman and “Poet Be Like God,” a bio of Spicer. Basically, the guy was a ferocious alkie, was out of his mind (he thought he could control pinballs through telekinesis, that Martians were dictating poems to him, and after swearing to never watch TV… got angry when he saw it that no one had ever told him how wonderful it was, etc.) and was an extraordinary poet who still has yet to be fully appreciated.
Also, all poets should be confronted with Spicer’s “Poetry As Magic” workshop questionnaire that participants in his workshop were required to fill out before being granted admission. The questionnaire is included in the “Collected.”
According to Robin Blaser, Spicer’s last words on his deathbed were “My Vocabulary Did This To Me.” I’ve never believed this, mostly because Blaser, too, seems bananas, and it seems a too poetic demise for a poet. But it is a good story anyhow.
In my world of influences I have Spicer (1925-1965) on one side of the country, Frank O’Hara (1926-1966) on the other—both magnetic leaders of a movement (San Francisco Renaissance for Spicer, New York School for O’Hara), both tragically dead at 40 (Spicer of alcoholism in a hospital room, O’Hara of an unfortunate meeting with a dune buggy). They are like rival gang leaders (they disliked one another) whose fight emerges in my poems from time to time.
The Phoenix article isn’t bad: http://thephoenix.com/Boston/Arts/73434-Review-My-Vocabulary-Did-This-to-Me-The-Collecte/
The photo above is from The Phoenix site as well.
Hard to pin down how much Spicer is in my poems. I steal from him mercilessly, his lines get varied slightly and dropped into mine, his ideas on art and poetry influence mine greatly, and I love his work. I worked on a series of poems that were me thinking of Spicer, travel, airplanes, barrooms, jukeboxes, and love that is titled “Pinball Music.” A few of these poems have appeared in journals (Borderlands, South Boston Lit. Gazette, and the recent Kerouac-inspired anthology, Where the Road Begins).
Basically, if I gave you three poets to read, Spicer would be on the list. Here is the funny part: There is a review in the Phoenix, Spicer is the bomb, and the world is crying for real poetry… and there are no copies to be found. I checked a couple Border’s and Barnes and Nobles and they didn’t have it. You will likely need to do what I did, shop Amazon, to get a copy of this gem. Go do it!
Yellowcard Coincidences
I know that my blog starts to look like a Yellowcard fan forum at times, but give me a break… I love them.
But this isn’t a fan-drooling account of how Yellowcard’s “Gifts and Curses” is one of my fav songs, or how I wish Ryan Key would get his ass to Beantown. Rather, I had an interesting coincidence this weekend.
I finally watched the movie “Big Fish” (thank you NetFlix) after it had been recommended by countless advisors over the past 5 years. I would gather this has something to do with my endless stories of my father, Al Eidsvig, who was the epitome of a “Big Fish” (although his stories… joining the army at 14, playing pool left-handed, wrestling a grizzy, are actually true), as his stories have become a part of me. I often say things like, “it’s like my father used to say…”
-Shit in one hand and wish in the other and see which fills up first.
-Women are like busses, there’s another one coming in ten minutes.
-If your nose runs and your feet smell you’re built upside-down.
(yes, I added the grizzly part above)
Anyhow, many people have recommended the movie to me. Maybe also due to the shoes being cast over the telephone wire (which shows up in my poem “Counting”). So, thank you all for the recommendations over the years, the movie was great… Then again, how can you go wrong with Obi-Wan Kenobi?
How strange is it that my spell-check didn’t catch Obi-Wan? This is included in Microsoft’s dictionary?
Anyway, I watched the movie and liked it, and then that night I was on YouTube. There was a video “recommended” for me by their program, and I clicked it. It was titled “How I Go, lyrics” or something. Now me being recommended Yellowcard videos is nothing new from YouTube, as they are my staple. BUT, it is strange that I clicked on one (I hardly ever do) and here is the weird part…. I am listening to the song (which I have heard many times before), and reading the lyrics, and I am like “WHAT??? This is about Big Fish!” Which I just finished watching like two hours earlier.
Of course I’m not the only one to have understood this connection. I was shocked and did some googling, some Wikipedia-ing and this is common knowledge… that the band wrote a song about the movie (my first search was for the soundtrack which I figured the band had provided the song for…. but no). Plus, there are other youtube vids that feature clips of the movie, etc.
The weird part is just the time proximity and the connection. Jack Spicer would understand. He thought he was a radio for Martians for crying out loud.
I loved the movie, like the coincidence, and there is tons on YouTube and otherwise about this. The song is a lot better now that I know what they are talking about. Even though I usually prefer their peppier stuff.
Pic above is from Wikipedia.
What am I Up to?
As some know, I’ve been working on a long piece of fiction, or a screenplay, or a couple of long pieces of fiction, or something. This is a horrible thing to tell someone, a s it sounds pathetic, but it is true.
Anyhow, I am also listening to the Jonathan Lethem audiobook, “You Don’t Love Me Yet,” as read by the author. Almost once a minute I either laugh out loud at how cool his writing is, or how funny it is, (and how unbelievable it is that he kicks so much ass), or think “you gotta be kidding me,” it is so good. Basically makes me want to hang up my cleats.
Also, looks like the Farnsworth show will include the new painting, “Pink Angels,” as well as “Flight Pattern.” More on that when I know.
Pic above is from Amazon.
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