Jerry Clowers already recorded it. Ruth--I suppose I'll get kicked off
this list soon for changing the subject line too often.
At 10:28 AM -0600 3/16/03, John Callan wrote:
>There's this joke, joke story, I suppose, about two old friends going
>fishing after a long seperation. It told in the first person, buy the
>guy who became a fish and game warden. The two guys go out in the
>boat. The warden starts fishing. The other guy starts drinking
>coffee. Quiet bonding without talking, as guys will do. Long
>silences. Eventually the warden asks, "aren't you going to fish"? His
>partner quietly opens a wooden box, extracts a stick of dynomite and
>lites the fuse. Realizing what kind of fishing is about to happen the
>warden says, "you do know I'm a warden?".
>
>"You want to fish or you want to talk?" asks his buddy still holding
>the dynomite with the lit fuse.
>
>Now obviously this retelling has not resulted in anyone rolling on the
>floor laughing hysterically...but I have a good friend. I make him
>retell this story everytime we meet. There's something in his telling,
>in his voice, in our friendship, that makes it hysterical. I crack up
>just thinking about him telling it. And of course in my minds eye it
>is the two of us in the boat...except that either of us could easily
>fill either roll. I must get him to record it.
>
>-jc
>
>
>On Sunday, March 16, 2003, at 07:12 AM, Leland Torrence wrote:
>
>> ][<en,
>> I have been listening to a lecture series on Homer. Elizabeth
>> Vandiver is the lecturer. She reads sections of the Iliad in its
>> ancient Greek. I had never heard that before... Incredible,
>> wonderful. I just can't believe I missed it until recently. If you
>> can find someone or a recording, I highly recommend it. Another great
>> recording is Rudyard Kipling reading If.
>> I wish you
>> Would read
>> The beginning
>> For me.
>> Now try it in Greek!
>>
>> Best,
>> Leland
>>
>> -----Original Message-----
>> From: "Let us not speak foul in folly!" - ][<en Phollit
>> [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On Behalf Of Ken
>> Follett
>> Sent: Saturday, March 15, 2003 7:07 PM
>> To: [log in to unmask]
>> Subject: Re: Windham College
>>
>>
>> John,
>>
>> I'm not disappointed with either of our outcomes. Though the other
>> night when I woke up suddenly at 2:25 AM with a start dreaming that
>> loading the shotgun in the closet and blowing my head off might be
>> beneficial to the family... mind you, this is not catastrophic
>> suicidal but a measure of personal engagement with the outcome of not
>> wanting to let my friends or family down... the stress caused me to
>> pause long enough to wonder what the f*ck this is all about! Christ,
>> John, ask Jim Hicks if I am not suffering from am unshakeable belief
>> that I am responsible for the well being of the entire universe.
>>
>> Always willing to assist in the development of good character.
>>
>> Yeah. I sat directly across from Allen at table for a lunch at the
>> Rockland County Community College and had a pleasant chat with his
>> humbleness for close to an hour before he went on to his reading.
>> Meeting him was one of the goals of my youth. He was wearing a suit
>> and tie and he was not what I had expected. Prior to that I had seen
>> him performing at an anti-war rally in Washington. Meeting him was a
>> turning point in my de-mythologizing of the hero. It was also when I
>> found out that young muscular stonemasonry bucks eating lunch with
>> famous old poets would attract ditzy female poets with large
>> gazoongas. Though I enjoy his early work, particularly Howl and
>> Kaddish, his later work I feel got a bit flaccid and he was running on
>> fumes. He wrote a poem about a green terra cotta building in Manhattan
>> that I recall was very moving... Sharpshooter will know the building.
>> Ginsberg remains a character that I am curious about, the full extent
>> of his career and how much of a pure businessman he was about
>> promoting his group, the beats. He was damned sharp about business and
>> promotion. He was still busy promoting the beats when I met him. I was
>> tagging on the heals of a lesser known beat, Charlie Plymell, an old
>> friend of his. Plymell turned out to be a manic-depressive coke head
>> with all sorts of emotional and anger control problems. Charlie's wife
>> Pamela was the daughter of Sylvia Beach, a publisher of James Joyce.
>> Sylvia ran around with a French guy named Claude Peleu (sp) Washburn
>> who was a real whacka-do. I also met and spent some time with Ray
>> Bremser who at that point was totally strung out and near the end of
>> his life. It was not long before we could not stomach Charlie --
>> particularly after he decided that I was the Ken Follett that had just
>> got a $35,000 advance on my first novel and that I was not sharing --
>> and we split that scene. The fact that Ginzberg died is more
>> significant to me than the death of Mr. Rogers. Anyone that would piss
>> on the desk of a dean at Columbia, apocryphal or not, has got my
>> interest. Where is our Ginsberg now? The man legitimized the left and
>> most certainly poetisized politics. I regret though that I did not ask
>> him about his meeting with Ezra Pound. And there is one thing that
>> sticks in my mind which is Ginsberg talking about losing ourselves to
>> the point that we not only relenquish our belongings,like a
>> transitorized Marcus Aurelieus, but that we may even approach the
>> consciousness of losing our name. I've been out to look toward that
>> place of silence and losing name and feel that without going there
>> that we will never quite be whole with ourselves. Sort of akin to the
>> strategy that Zen poetics -- snap bang --
>>
>> My favorite encounter with a famous poet was going to a reading of
>> Robert Creeley in Buffalo. The reading was at a small coffee & new-age
>> donut shop kind of place with mint tea and incense so we all sat on
>> wooden folding chairs and it was real close. Early in the afternoon on
>> a Saturday. I like to sit up front. Creeley was late, real late. We
>> had driven a long long way to see him. He showed up drunk and brought
>> his own six of beer. He proceeded to wobble around in his chair and
>> mumble and curse at us, pop his cans and drink beer. Finally I told
>> him that if he could not give us any poetry at least he could share
>> his f*ckin beer. He was not in a mood to share and we left. As far as
>> I can tell the guy has written one really good poem. He should be
>> happy.
>>
>> My disappointment was when I did not get to actually see Borges. He
>> was speaking at NYU and I drove into town from Westchester after
>> working all day. DUe to circumstances beyond my ambition we ended up
>> spending too much time in a friggin pizza parlor and by the time our
>> friend got us to the gig we had to stand outside and listen to Borges
>> over an intercom.
>>
>> Today and yesterday my favorite poet is Vachel Lindsey.
>>
>> Tell Patrick that if he wants to meet someone famous that he should
>> listen to you about getting an education... and when the time is right
>> you can tell him that all you got to do is have the b*lls to say,
>> Hello, how are you? Nice weather, you know." Problem we got here these
>> days with industrialized celebrity is that the famous people to meet
>> are usually very shallow. Who wants to really meet Donald Trump or
>> Michael Jackson?
>>
>> ][<en
>> N^hj1*kzǫ12bzkjeSxs३ljwm
>> ry?hr?쨺 ا(m2scyۿj!Sy*szFSx^i!
>>
>> --
>> To terminate puerile preservation prattling among pals and the
>> uncoffee-ed, or to change your settings, go to:
>> <http://maelstrom.stjohns.edu/archives/bullamanka-pinheads.html>
>>
>
>--
>To terminate puerile preservation prattling among pals and the
>uncoffee-ed, or to change your settings, go to:
><http://maelstrom.stjohns.edu/archives/bullamanka-pinheads.html>
--
Ruth Barton
[log in to unmask]
Westminster, VT
--
To terminate puerile preservation prattling among pals and the
uncoffee-ed, or to change your settings, go to:
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