From the “As All Things Must Continue” department:
So anyway, if you’re friends, on Facebook, with the person
mentioned in this article, you can go to his page and see his further comments,
in which he says that he’s in the “final stages of kicking opiates,” which is certainly
a good thing.
He also says he’s going to be dead in a “couple or few
years.” But as he says, he’s been able
to “put away a pile of dough for my wife quite a remarkable one, too--money I
would still be making if only I had just kept quiet! They can't burn me anymore, so I'll be ok. Someone will snap up my papers, --Boston Univ
already has some of them and paid a pretty penny, too, so that's in the Beth
find too. My first chapbook, 15 poems,
from 1976 goes for 5,ooo.oo at this point and I'm told it will double in the
next decade, esp. with my death--oh God, everyone will love me then--they don't
like to see a living poet--there is something unseemly about it. Later. I have finished books, with contracts
and advances, that will appear in 2015 and 2017, possibly one more after that,
if I survive”
So I guess he’s OK about it all.
And now for a second pass. David Biespiel has a few things to say:
http://therumpus.net/2012/11/david-biespiels-poetry-wire-is-franz-wright-the-rush-limbaugh-of-american-poetry/
" I have never forgotten this last detail: The exposed bully, ______________, walking out of the apartment and leaving the front door wide open behind him for somebody else to close. Some things never change."
There's nothing to be gained by this conversation, I know. It's all old hat, as I well know from Wright's comments on this blog and to me in emails in the past. But, you know, Biespiel's right: Wright's a bully. I'm glad to see so many people standing up to him this time.
And now for a second pass. David Biespiel has a few things to say:
http://therumpus.net/2012/11/david-biespiels-poetry-wire-is-franz-wright-the-rush-limbaugh-of-american-poetry/
" I have never forgotten this last detail: The exposed bully, ______________, walking out of the apartment and leaving the front door wide open behind him for somebody else to close. Some things never change."
There's nothing to be gained by this conversation, I know. It's all old hat, as I well know from Wright's comments on this blog and to me in emails in the past. But, you know, Biespiel's right: Wright's a bully. I'm glad to see so many people standing up to him this time.
6 Comments:
Yawn.
Or as Neil Young says from a stage in 1976:
Down in the pit there, right down in here, can we—can you light up the pit please?
I saw Judy Garland down there earlier. She was wearing a red dress with red lipstick and she had a little bit of music with her, right here, one of those music folios that said “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” which had a picture of her as a little girl looking up at me with a blue sky behind her.
And there she was, Judy Garland, with a red dress and a piece of music, and she looked up and she said, “How’s the business Neil?”
That's pretty good stage patter for 1976, timely. One wonders if it is very good for one to worry too much about the state of poetry. So much ado about the state of poetry and folks may start to think one is a bit cranky, or woke up forever one morning on the wrong side of life.
tpeterson
I found it for you!
Sometimes he feels like a green Wurlitzer:
http://youtu.be/WmVspa30GJM
It's in the intro to "Too Far Gone"
John, that's really great, some really good banter on life even before the part you noted, what keeps you alive is what kills you, etc ... I mean, maybe put some money away for the wife, if you are thinking straight.
tpeterson
I think I busted a button awn me trousers, I hope they don't foal down. YOU WOULDN'T WANT ME TROUSERS TO FOAL DOWN NOW, WOULD YOU?
YAAAAAAHHHH....
Or the night I heard Buddy Guy complain about Eric Clapton being more famous than he, and the crowd--it was a little obnoxious--started booing Clapton, so Guy said "The man can play!" and started defending Clapton. Then he got pissed and wouldn't play anything all the way through after that. It was a strange concert.
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