Happy (slightly belated) New Year!

Happy New Year!

This was the first time the year passed and I didn't think: oh thank God that's over.  I will always have affection for 2013 (the year I married my beloved!).  I am happy to greet 2014 as well.

Having completed my portion of the editing project mentioned in earlier posts, I'm now back focused on my grandmothers book (hooray!).  I've worked many hours most days since Jan. 2 and am happy for that. The good thing about the crazy amount of hours worked and the levels of concentration needed for the editing project is that I now know what I'm capable of doing and can bring that same focus to my own work.  Also, the editing project gave me the discipline to motor through times of discomfort and tedium, which for a book project this big, with the level of research involved, is necessary.

I have done some writing about the 1940s and read (and chronologically ordered) my grandmother Jani's many opinion pieces, letters to the editor and articles by and about her that range in subject matter from an attempted rape (wherein she fought back and the man ran), which led to her successful fight to see rape laws changed in Wisconsin, issues of sexist grammar, racist and sexist basal readers (she taught remedial reading at an inner-city Milwaukee high school in the 70s), 3-mile Island, NOW, teenage pregnancy, her (unsuccessful) race for city council, violence in schools, teacher's wages, bank fraud and more...this was all from 1971-79 btw (she died in 1980). This does not include her many speeches, longer form articles, three (at least) books in progress, many short stories, hundreds of poems and piles of correspondence.  The correspondence, poems and stories range from the 1930s onward and include matriarchal genealogies from her and her mother, many hundreds of photos, newspaper clippings about marriages and divorces (hers), etc.  Boxes and boxes, people.  aka: a lot.  And this is just One grandmother.  I have discovered this past week that she was as liberal with the truth in print as in private correspondence.  This appears to be a family trait.  I find I feel ashamed of this even when I haven't indulged in this level of deception myself.  In fact the biggest challenge in this whole process is to maintain some level of detachment from my grandmothers' various, pretty obvious shortcomings and not take them all on board as if they are my fate.  Historical codependence perhaps?  

Speaking of which, my new writer hero is the historian Jill Lepore.  I wrote her after reading her piece in The New Yorker about writing her new book about Jane Franklin (Benjamin's sister).  I told her about the grandmothers' book (including above issues) and she suggested I read her journal article 'Historians who love too much' which is brilliant...and helpful...in it she discusses something called micro-history, which is distinguished from biography in that it focuses as much if not more on the social-cultural-political milieu around the person/s (usually not as famous as traditional biographies) being discussed.  I found this helpful, especially as I had begun to describe to myself the poles of the grandmothers book as oscillating between the price of rebellion (Jani) and the soul crushing cost of conformity (Dick).  This in the context of being female in the 20th Century (born before women could vote) and not wealthy (so economic imperatives to marry/go along to get along especially having grown up in the Depression are strong). Breaking the rules was dangerous.  Not breaking them was stultifying.  So, while there is a vast store of personal knowledge, details and whatnot, it all is unfolding within this larger political/economic/gender/philosophical context, which is the context in which all of my writing and theater work has unfolded since 1983.

So...in honor of those who have previously, continue to  and will carve out the poetical-political-philosophical sphere....I leave you with some gorgeous photos taken by John (my beloved Canadian husband & photographer) from my favorite New Year's Day ritual: the St. Mark's Poetry Marathon...

Jonas Mekas, filmmaker, poet, artist - 91 years old & still the coolest guy in the room

Philip Glass - after playing a lovely solo on piano - yes that close & what a treat

Clarinda MacLow - very talented dancer/artist all round great human being (& college friend)

Patti Smith - always the star attraction - always supremely human & always Herself

This year the force of nature also known as Anne Waldman (founder of marathon) stole the show with
a volcanic eruption of words/sounds/screams/cries/visions & nightmares of floods inspired by climate change

There simply is no better way to bring in the New Year than in the middle of St. Mark's Church surrounded by supremely awake, caring, angry, loving human beings.  Hundreds of poets and their admirers.  I felt so safe there, like everything was going to be OK.

John and I volunteered early in the day at the reader's desk, which was a great experience, too.  I can't recommend this enough.  Another reason, among the millions, to love NYC.

Blessings to all for the New Year - may you find your way to your deepest, truest Self-as-becoming... I've had some senses this past year of true connection to everyone around me - seeing, even in the subway filled with people, some type of divine energy manifesting in multiplicity.  I wish this for you, too, because there's nothing better than feeling blissed out in a crowd (without drugs, I hasten to add) and truly awake.

Sometimes everyone just pisses me off, too and I worry about money and shit (just so you know), but I do have those connected moments, which make me feel like this life is just part of a great Dance about which we know only a little...and what could be more wonderful?

New Year's Day at St Mark's Poetry Project Marathon Reading

I got up late today, because went to bed late last night.  Managed to work on some writing to begin the day after meditation and glad of that.

Then went to meet my friend Marietta at The Annual New Year's Day Marathon Poetry Reading at St. Mark's Church.  I didn't last the whole time but did put in 5 1/2 hours, which miraculously went by quickly.  I probably could have stayed for more but when looking at returning home really late, I decided it was best to leave when I did, especially as Marietta and her partner had already left an hour and a half earlier.

Some of what I did see and hear from people both obscure and famous was truly wonderful.  Some standouts you may not have heard of before included Peter Gizzi, Monica de la Torre, Wayne Koestenbaum, Pamela Sneed, Mark Novac, Daniel Kent, Pamela Sneed and John S. Hall who is kind of a genius (and funny).  I cannot possibly describe the poem he wrote, because if I did so, it would be a disservice and make it sound way less interesting than it was.  Many of the poems referenced Occupy Wall Street either overtly or associatively.  The crowd at St. Marks is as political as it is poetic, a kind of spiritual continuation of the Allen Ginsburg East Village legacy...

The more well-known people who read included Penny Arcade, who was spectacular and whose narrative poem included a recitation of a description of the many letters she wrote to men when she was a young woman, which included pining after the man in question (most of whom she could not remember) in which she was accepting them and their quirks and attempting to explain her own.  She ended with a story about talking to a woman in Turkey last year who was surprised that she was traveling alone as an older woman.  One line, which summarizes my own feelings right now, was "I'm not afraid to be alone as an older woman because I was afraid to be alone when I was young."  I loved that.

There was a woman destroying a large cardboard box to loud music when I arrived, a perfect introduction to the day.  I was 2 hours late, because I knew it went on for many hours, and wanted to do my own writing.  What I encountered when I walked into the church was astonishing - a very large space packed with people listening to a marathon poetry reading - a room that got more and more packed as the hours wore on.  And I mean it goes from 3pm to 2am or so.  The vibe was very friendly and relaxed and the famous mingled with the less famous with ease, which was lovely.  I joined Marietta on the carpeted step/seat things, squishing in front of and behind some folks.

This is an event I've always wanted to attend but never managed to make it there before...I think it will stay on the dance card now.

The more famous people included Jonas Mekas, the wonderful Czech avant-garde film-maker.  He read something from his 1960s journal about Peter Orlovsky, because he died this year.  I got some video of it, which I will add here.  The sound quality is not great, but it's lovely to see him, even if faintly.  He is very old, so one of the reasons I did use my phone as video camera had to do with realizing it wasn't a sure thing that I'd ever see him live again.

I also saw my current idol (again) Patti Smith.  She premiered her poetry/music with Lenny Kaye at St Marks Poetry Project in 1971, so the resonance is quite extraordinary.  Below is some video of her singing a song called Gratitude, which came after a poem I did not record properly but was in reference to Occupy Wall Street.  Lenny Kaye also played, a lovely gentle song - it makes me laugh in a good way that these folks who were rocking so hard in the 70s now play these gentle, soulful songs.  It feels like a natural progression not like a sell-out of any kind.  It's actually kinda sweet.  In the video recording the loud laugh is mine - apologies in advance for this.  It's really loud...

What I love about Patti Smith - and am reminded of it every time I see her live, is her sheer humanity on stage - it's so refreshing to see someone at ease enough with herself to admit mistakes and laugh at herself.  I'm a total sucker for that kind of presence...

Here's a bit of the poem:

And here's the song with prequel:

There were little kids all over the place, too, being allowed to run around.  No one minded, they were smiled at a lot and picked up and played with.

Oh, and I almost forgot - and how could I - there was John Giorno, now 75, reciting a poem he wrote when 70 called 'Thanks for Nothing,' which was the usual Giorno brilliance - hilarious, sad, incantation - political, poetic, queer, glorious.

So that's how I spent my New Year's Day.  Not bad.

I even did what I planned to do but thought I would chicken out on, namely, giving Patti Smith a copy of the poem I wrote for her when I was 23, along with the cut-up text of Future Worlds - Tricorn Init!, because the last time I saw here was in London at her curation of the Meltdown at Royal Festival Hall, which included a tribute to William Burroughs.

Speaking of which, the scene tonight was lovely in its respect for its elders - a lot of references to the departed, such as Ginsburg, Orlovsky, Burroughs and many others.  There were a lot of older folks in the audience and younger folks, too.  Marietta's partner told me he'd been coming for many years and that it only gets better.  Isn't that nice to hear?  That something gets Better....

Lots of predictions for 2012 (Year of the Dragon) being quite the year - lots of hopes for Occupy movements, a sense of revolution in the air, which I haven't seen in a long, long time.  Is it real?  Time will tell, but there was another amazing poet, Poez, who said he was also a lawyer who worked defending the Occupy folks who get sent to jail.  He said when he was speaking to them through bars in the middle of the night, he felt a power coming from them that he did not think was coming through via the press.  He sounded quite impressed, even awed by this.  It sounds to me like I've always imagined the Civil Rights leaders and marchers must have seemed like to those who knew them.  This is exciting.  And accords with what I am seeing - something that is sustainable and is not going away - people who don't feel it's even possible to turn back.

Another famous person who read was Suzanne Vega.  She read a startling poem/lyric about her character Luca, the abused boy that shows up in her earlier music, as an older man.  It was spare, sad and quietly brilliant, like she is.

This was just a special night.  The more I'm writing about it now, the more I wish I'd stayed until the end...ah well, next time.

On the other hand, I did have the feeling all night that we in the US do not honor our poets enough.  So many of these people have jobs unrelated to their primary work and are not as well-known as they should be.  I felt the lack of support in general, perhaps because of reading Chris Goode's blog mentioned in the last post detailing the work he is doing, and knowing it is being supported financially in a way that it would not be here.  That makes me sad.

Also alternately battling and allowing pervasive sense of loneliness today.  Then feeling really happy to be at this event and with friends.  However, I have a feeling this loneliness I just have to walk through - it feels like some kind of last frontier for me - the fear of loneliness being what I think has driven all of my codependent behavior and stupid choices.  The fact I stayed after Marietta left amazes me.  I was OK sitting alone, at least for a while.  That's why the Penny Arcade piece meant so much.

Then I made the move to the back room where the books and food was being sold so I could give the poem/writing to Patti Smith.  I stood around until there was a moment to hand it to her when she wasn't in conversation with other people.  She was quite gracious, though she also looked very tired (she is 65 and just played 3 concerts including a New Year's Eve concert, so like, that's not surprising), and said thank you.  All I could stammer was 'Thank you for being you' and then just stood there after she walked out of the room feeling both proud of my boldness and quivering a bit because that kind of exchange scares the living crap out of me.  I stared at my ever useful smart phone as if it mattered, then went to the bathroom.

That was as much courage as I could muster and I left, wishing who I knew to call about what I had done but not being sure, called no one except to leave a message on one friend's voicemail.  This made me sad but I don't think it means I have no friends, just that there are certain times (and times of night) when I'm not sure who to call.  I also go through this battle with myself about whether I should call anyone anyway and why can't I be my own witness, etc.  So instead you all get to hear about it.

Happy New Year!  May it bring us all great joy.