"fill my pen and weep"
The only thing that can save the world is the reclaiming of the awareness of the world. That's what poetry does.
Allen Ginsberg
halloween tuesday. singing is going wonderfully. my two songs being getting to know you (vomit) and someone to watch over me - billie holiday which i love.
acting class was also splendid. saskia and i switched parts from our odd couple scene and it went sooo much better in the improvisationl it was actually funny. rushed home with colleen, changed for the halloween paprade.. we werethe 80's strasberg hookers, and walked in my painful shoes to 6th avenue to see the village voice/gay pride/biggest halloween celebration in the world parade. it was crazy. there was a HUGE puppet spider climing the church tower on 6th, costumes everywhere, a happy man tossing candy from a rooftop with asian middle aged women, glitter and congetti, puppets, disco floats, and kiss was the master of ceremonies. ol crazy ass gene simmons himself.
after parade, we were all lameasses with homework and so wentout for thai food instead of the classic halloween shit face routine.
today had classes. fairly generic. work. lunch in washington square park which was finally cleared of will smith and his silly movie crew gang filming the vampire/willsmith saves the world movie i am legend. kmart. yayyy nyc having a cheap place to buy shampoo. dinner. and then to st. mark's place for the 50th anniversary allan ginsberg celebration which was phenomenal to say the least. my homeless friend was there, looking likeginsberg himself although drinking so i didn't buy him food or buy his art. tough love situation i suppose. met up with some nyuers, some beat obsessed kid on crew. more beat fans than i would have imagined.
gay, straight, male, woman, someone who we couldn't tell, young, old, set to music, a recorder, guitar, performance art, dance, his poems were read by and turned into just about everything. my favorites being sunflower sutra and white shroud. the last man, an albert einstein lookalike, played the citar and sang a poem he wrote after ginsberg's death about life's trivilaities and how much he missed his hero. touching, and altogether sad.. watching a generation sweep into nothingness. trying as best we can to remember whats left. the words.
Allen Ginsberg
halloween tuesday. singing is going wonderfully. my two songs being getting to know you (vomit) and someone to watch over me - billie holiday which i love.
acting class was also splendid. saskia and i switched parts from our odd couple scene and it went sooo much better in the improvisationl it was actually funny. rushed home with colleen, changed for the halloween paprade.. we werethe 80's strasberg hookers, and walked in my painful shoes to 6th avenue to see the village voice/gay pride/biggest halloween celebration in the world parade. it was crazy. there was a HUGE puppet spider climing the church tower on 6th, costumes everywhere, a happy man tossing candy from a rooftop with asian middle aged women, glitter and congetti, puppets, disco floats, and kiss was the master of ceremonies. ol crazy ass gene simmons himself.
after parade, we were all lameasses with homework and so wentout for thai food instead of the classic halloween shit face routine.
today had classes. fairly generic. work. lunch in washington square park which was finally cleared of will smith and his silly movie crew gang filming the vampire/willsmith saves the world movie i am legend. kmart. yayyy nyc having a cheap place to buy shampoo. dinner. and then to st. mark's place for the 50th anniversary allan ginsberg celebration which was phenomenal to say the least. my homeless friend was there, looking likeginsberg himself although drinking so i didn't buy him food or buy his art. tough love situation i suppose. met up with some nyuers, some beat obsessed kid on crew. more beat fans than i would have imagined.
gay, straight, male, woman, someone who we couldn't tell, young, old, set to music, a recorder, guitar, performance art, dance, his poems were read by and turned into just about everything. my favorites being sunflower sutra and white shroud. the last man, an albert einstein lookalike, played the citar and sang a poem he wrote after ginsberg's death about life's trivilaities and how much he missed his hero. touching, and altogether sad.. watching a generation sweep into nothingness. trying as best we can to remember whats left. the words.