JULY 2014
Thoughts for the Month
“If at first you don’t succeed, failure may be your style. Never keep up with the Joneses. Drag them down to your level. It's cheaper.”
“The very purpose of existence it to reconcile the glowing opinion we have of ourselves with the appalling things that other people think of us.”
“I like living in one room and have never known what people do with the room they are not in.”
Quentin Crisp
31
Trysts and Travails
Another month in Paris has ended with only two more months to go for my current stay. On Monday, I found out that I could not renew my visa here in Paris but could only do so in the states. I will have to put together all the paperwork I had to do in February for the first visa. There are many people in France who have no fondness for France, Paris or the French language and yet, for a multitude of reasons they get to stay. Many are here for work since their home country is incapable of providing job opportunities. Despite the fact that I love Paris and its language, I must jump through hoops to stay here because I am American. I may just return for a three-month period for which I need no visa. But, one way or the other, I will be staying. I honestly can’t imagine living in DC any longer. I am gathering ideas about possible work and/or project work that could ultimately get me a long-term visa. I will update my status on this issue as soon as things progress.
This week was virtually open-mic-less. My Monday night French open mic at the Downtown Cafe, is on vacation until September 8. Paris virtually empties out (except for tourists) during the month of August. My gym is also closed for the first two weeks of August.
Tonight, I took a break from Culture Rapide open mic in English in order to attend a social event with the gay group, OutParis. I thought it far more important for me to start making gay friends rather than just hanging out with the allegedly straight poets. It was a very pleasant evening with a lot of friendly people. There were about forty attendees. Unfortunately, some members left without paying for their drinks and the waiter was in the hole for 70 euros (about $100). However, the waiter was nowhere to be found when people were looking to pay their tabs and leave. He should have charged people right away for each drink. His service was horrendous, but for him 70 euros was probably his pay for two nights of work. Last Sunday I went to an exhibit on Pierre et Gilles at a small gallery. The current exhibit was actually on tapestries as the P et G exhibit had already ended. But we all went to a cafe for a cocktail and a lot of laughs. Gay men are very funny! I hope to attend more of the OutParis events over the next two months.
25
Sabbath Sermonette
“I would argue that a truly developed country would be beyond Presidents and Kings. In a world with some semblance of equality, each liberal-minded woman, each gay person, and indeed almost every person could be their own President. In a world of equals, what real service does a ruler provide?”
Isaac Asimov
Jeudi rapidE
The Paris Lit Up open mic at Culture Rapid was filled with a particularly talented group writers. There was an underlying theme of the role of poetry in addressing social justice. The featured poet, a young Frenchman named Donald Tournier, is a very talented poet who writes “angry” poems about the sad state of human affairs. He is fluent in both French and English and writes in both languages.
My presentation last night spoke of the need for utilizing poetry to spark an awareness of the devolution of humanity that we see/hear/read about on a daily basis. I introduced my new poem with a piece on the poet and radical social change.
Poetry and Politics
The results of The National Endowment for the Arts 2012 Survey of Public Participation in the Arts showed that only 6.7% of Americans read a book of poetry in the past year. I believe that this dearth of readership is related to a disconnect between poetry and its relevance to current situations of war, famine, lack of drinking water, discrimination and the heinous role of religion versus social justice. For centuries the poet has played a prophetic role in promoting change in a floundering society. The following was written in 1929 but is eerily applicable to the current world situation.
Excerpts from the Introduction to An Anthology of Revolutionary Poetry
The world is tumbling about our ears. The old order has collapsed. We stand among falling débris. America is becoming or has become industrialized. Individualism of the pioneers has fallen away before standardization. The trust has risen and capitalism expanded. Youth is more aware and articulate. Women are less willing to be dominated by men.
The creation of some valid order of values is the most fascinating and imperative task the intellect faces today. The creation of values in the emotional realm is the primary function of poetry. Chaos gives birth to a dancing star only if we breathe into it that visible, audible fragrance of passion which is poetry. The world will be new-born only with the spread of that consciousness which is creation, and poets are the pioneers of consciousness. They, therefore, are naturally among the leaders in the development of class-consciousness.
Poetry and propaganda are two sides of the same shield. Without passion there can be no poetry, and all who feel strongly burn with a zeal to have others share their feeling. True poets are also propagandists, even though their propaganda may be simply for the love of life and the life of love. Honor to the poet who can find poetry in stunted city trees and the parched flowers in a tenement window, who sings the humdrum life of a factory hand or an office clerk! Honor to the poet who shouts against the infamy of lynchings and prisons and the red-eyed monster of war! Such poets are working with the mortar which will build a more enduring social structure. They are the standard-bearers of a new emancipated humanity. These are the poets whom the present may crucify, but whom the future will honor.
In a land where rich men and athletes are adored and poets scorned, a land whose appropriate symbols are the cash register and the time-clock, sensitive souls are crucified. If not on the electric chair like Sacco and Vanzetti, they nevertheless are seared. In the standardization of a machine age there is tragic need but scant room for the nonconformist. Our wings are clipped from birth, our souls mangled by wheels. Most of us, even we poets, are willing to let our souls sicken and succumb or to keep them like canaries trilling monotonously in a small gilt cage. Some few there are, however, who struggle for the integrity of their spirits and mint from the consequent agony dynamic song.
If there be any among the radical movement who ignore the poet as a practical factor in the fight for freedom, let such recall the lives of Milton, Byron and Shelley…it is fairly safe to say that the greatest poets of the past have been the rebel and humanist singers who have shaken the thrones of tyrants with their rebellious music and risen to the defense of the martyred Saccos and Vanzettis of their own generations.
Every age has its poets, but this dark age of electricity, this mechanistic era, blackened by the monster shadows of giant machines, is essentially a harrowing age for poets. For the poetic mind lays emphasis on the human values of life rather than on those upheld by a standardized and crudely materialistic civilization. Therefore, the poet is stifled to-day [sic] perhaps more than he has ever been in the past, and if the radicals will not listen to him, will not welcome him, who will?
From Lucia Trent and Ralph Cheyney, introduction, An Anthology of Revolutionary Poetry, ed. Marcus Graham (New York: Active Press, 1929) 34-38, 40-41.
Poetic Complacency
Do not speak of
her glow matching that of
a new dawn
If you will not speak of
the dark dawn
rising above the child with
half his head blown off
in Gaza.
Do not speak of the deep loss of
your one true love
if you will not speak of the
bloated bellies of
African children
Do not speak of
cuddly animals,
vibrant flowers or the
magic of birth
if you will not speak of
inaccessible drinking water
rainforest destruction and
denial of reproductive rights.
Do not speak of
ethereal bliss
if you will not speak of
corrupting religions and
rotting corpses from
weapons of destruction
made from the ribs of
greedy men.
Do not waste our time on
common emotions
if you will not speak of
impoverished humanity or
unfathomable disease.
Wordplay has its role in
the written arts and in
the ecstasy of
mental masturbation
but do not dwell in
insipidy when
incitement is required.
Keep silent the
obscure and fatuous observations
until social injustice
relents under the pen
rather than the sword.
22
Trysts and Travails
Since returning to Paris I have not been keeping up with my experiences in this beautiful city. So I have decided to add a new feature called “Trysts and Travails” or merely commentary on my life in this well-lit city. (I am defining trysts as both ‘love affair’ and ‘dirty weekend.’) It would be disingenuous of me not to keep you posted on la vie Parisienne.
I am still enchanted by this beautiful and somewhat exotic city. As my French improves, the Parisians become nicer and nicer — even, dare I say it, welcoming. There is the myth that the French do not like Americans but that could be no further from the truth. They LOVE Americans — the music, the films, the style, the modernity, and not least, the friendliness. The French, or at least the Parisians, love cynicism (an admirable quality) and sometimes they are loathe to embrace their true feelings. My experience here has shown me that the only people who are really critical of the US are the Americans.
That being said, let me share some tidbits of life in Paris. First, let me mention a downside. Despite years of high-tech hygiene, many men in Paris have managed to avoid the use of deodorant. There are times when the scent of body odor is overwhelming. There is an undercurrent of body odor at my gym and, sometimes, when one of the culprits leaves a weight machine, the smell remains on the pads of the machine. While I am a product of the American obsession with cleanliness and objection to bad odors, I also have a keen olfactory sense and a keen gag response which make it more difficult to accept certain cultural differences. It is surprising how many men from around the world feel obliged to dispense with hygienic niceties! I can only imagine that most of them are perpetually single. One day I was on the metro and this very cute French guy boards the train. I prayed to all the deities that he would sit next to me. And he did. But his odor was so bad that I had to cover my mouth with my hand to lessen the stench for the remainder of the ride. Even on attractive men, the aroma of body odor quickly spoils their beauty. But perhaps like Napoleon who once requested that Josephine not bathe until his return, I will find the scent to be a pheromone of sorts rather than nasal effrontery.
On the flip side, I find the Parisians to be extremely friendly when I can speak or understand their French. Older women are immediately charmed by an American man who can speak their language. If only I wished to be dating older women. Even the men are slightly taken aback and more conciliatory when they realize that you can speak their language. Sadly, when a French person encounters me, English is immediately spoken albeit under the assumption that I am English not American. (See what happens when foreign languages are no longer required in school!) I must have a flag -either American or British - tattooed to my forehead that only the French can see. I am sill confident that the language of love will ultimately be to my benefit!
Now, let me talk about customer service. There is a supermarket quite close to me that has the best prices. As a proficient shopper, I can find my purchases quite quickly. But then there is the line from hell at the cashier. For some reason, the management absolutely refuses to open an additional checkout line no matter how long the other lines are. The French also seem to be unsure as to how to use their debit/credit cards — particularly the women. It is all I can do not to scream vulgarities during the wait time. But when I mentioned this to the woman whose apartment I am renting, she looked at me and said, to paraphrase, “Do you think you’re in the States, this if France!” If only patience were not the sole virtue I am lacking. You know things are nutty when customer service is worse than in the US.
Nonetheless, it cannot be reiterated enough how beautiful the architecture is in this city. As you walk around Paris one would have to be virtually brain-dead not to luxuriate in the buildings, parks and the riverside. The care with which the city was built is almost magical. And the French have a knack for combining the old with the modern in such as way as to create a seamless connection between the past and today. An excellent example is the glass pyramid designed by I. M. Pei as the entrance to Louvre. One can only think that Marie Antoinette had designed it herself. Glass and steel designs only accentuate the beauty of centuries-old buildings in this city of style.
Now that I have unburdened myself of a couple of the eccentricities of this imposing city, I can only hope that the universe will not curse my desire to remain here. I have already picked out my cemetery — Montparnasse not Pere Lachaise. I would prefer to spend my eternity with Jean-Paul Sartre and Samuel Beckett rather than Jim Morrison.
18
Sabbath Sermonette
“An atheist believes that a hospital should be built instead of a church. An atheist believes that deed must be done instead of prayer said. An atheist strives for involvement in life and not escape into death. He wants disease conquered, poverty vanished, war eliminated.”
Madalyn Murray O'Hair
Jeudi rapidE
At Culture Rapide last night I presented a new story about the unofficial history of Bastille Day.
Bread with Chocolate: A Half-Baked History of Bastille Day
Jacques Valjacques was a the 16 year-old scion of well-known family of tailors and seamstresses. He was the son of Rafe Lauren Valjacques, the tailor to king Louis XVI. He was a troublesome young man who did not get along with his stepmother, Bertie Roth Valjacques (who would later sew the original tricolor flag). After one too many “Vas-te faire foutre!,” she insisted that Rafe throw him out of the house. During a boisterous confrontation, Rafe threw Jacques out of the house with a small satchel containing a hundred sou.
Being the smart ass that he was, he spent the money at the first brothel he found. He chose the buxom brunette Sarah Pailain, who had the reputation as the best whore in Pars. Unfortunately for Jacques, he had a problem with premature ejaculation, so his 100 sou only bought him a 10 minute session. He was then forced to live on the dusty streets of Paris. Two days went by and he was very hungry. He had to find something to eat. He went into a boulangerie and requested a chocolate croissant. The kindly boulanger Monsieur Jules Enfant, gave him a large one but Jacques asked him if he had a freshly baked one with the chocolate all soft and gooey inside. The boulanger smiled and went into the kitchen while Jacques bolted out the door as fast as he could for about 500 meters until he reached the old Bastille prison. When Chef Enfant returned from the kitchen and saw that Jacques had absconded with the chocolate croissant, he immediately hailed the ace gendarme, Thomas Hilfiger, known for wearing a blue, white and red plaid beret. Gendarme Hilfiger quickly went off to find the young thief.
Jacques knew of the prison because his uncle, Hugo Patron Valjacques, had been jailed there when as a young apprentice, he inadvertently sewed up the backside of King Louis XV’s breeches causing the king to defecate in them. He was never heard from again. Jacques saw that no one was following him, so he sat down against a wall of the bastille and smoked a Gauloises — the cigarettes had just been introduced into the market and were the first with an activated charcoal filter. As Jacques took his final drag he spotted the famous red, white and blue beret. Panicking, Jacques tossed his cigarette over the Bastille wall and started running. Gendarme Hilfiger saw him and was in hot pursuit. Suddenly, an enormous explosion powerful enough to push Jacques to fall to the ground. As he looked back, he saw Gendarme Hilfiger erupt into a fiery array of blue, white and red. This would later become a major theme of fireworks displayed in celebration of the day.
Jacques was dumbstruck as he watched the blazes encircle the Bastille. Within moments, a crowd began to storm the prison. The commandant of the prison, Charles of Gaul, was soon seen in a parapet waving a white flag as the madding crowd stormed the fortress. Jacques watched fearfully as seven prisoners were dragged from the burning edifice. One of the prisoners looked oddly familiar. Could it be? Non. Could it be? Non. Could it be? Was it old Uncle Hugo? It appeared to be a woman. Jacques ran to his long-thought-dead uncle and embraced him as he explained who he was. As he did so, he felt what he thought were breasts. And they were! Uncle Hugo explained that while in prison he realized that he was a woman trapped in a man's body and is now living as Vanille Chanel. He would later create the simple black peasant dress that would one day eradicate color in Paris fashion. They both burst into tears over this long-overdue reunion. Jacques brought him home to his father who was overjoyed to see his new-found brother or rather, his new sister. There was much joy and celebration in the Valjacques home that night and young Jacques become a hero of the insurrection. He made nice with Bertie and moved back home.
The people of Paris were elated and soon held a ticker-tape parade to honor young Jacques. There was talk of calling the day of independence Valjacques Day, but since the royalists were still upset about the whole defecation incident, the name Bastille Day was chosen. And that is the unofficial story of the French national celebration. And Jacques? Well, he went on to create his own line of couture under the brand name Yves Saint-Jacques. He married his first whore Sarah Pailain and had a large family of sexually-active children. And, of course, they lived happily ever after.
15
!!! F ^ I * R ^ E * W ^ O * R ^ K * S !!!
Last night for Bastille Day I attended a picnic with a group of English-speaking writers at the Champ de Mars in front of the Eiffel Tower before the fireworks show. The fireworks started at 11 p.m. and were absolutely stunning -- artistic, coordinated with the music, very French. I can't remember seeing any similar display in the U.S. Below are some examples of last night showcase. (Photos:Daniel Kahn)
Coming Soon: the Unofficial History of Bastille Day!
14
La Fête Nationale [Bastille Day]
Bastille Day, celebrated on July 14 each year, commemorates the beginning of the French Revolution. It is formally called La Fête Nationale (The National Celebration). The people of Paris, fearful that they and their representatives would be attacked by the royal military, and seeking to gain ammunition and gunpowder for the general populace, stormed the Bastille, a fortress-prison, which had often held people jailed on the arbitrary royal indictments that could not be appealed. Besides holding a large cache of ammunition and gunpowder, the Bastille had been known for holding political prisoners whose writings had displeased the royal government, and was a symbol of the absolutism of the monarchy. At the time of the siege on July 14,1789, there were only seven inmates, none of great political significance, but when the crowd proved a match for the fort's defenders, the commander of the Bastille opened the gates to avoid a mutual massacre. Ninety-eight attackers and just one defender died in the actual fighting. Shortly thereafter, feudalism was abolished and the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen, which defines the individual and collective rights of all as universal, was proclaimed. The Declaration, directly influenced by Thomas Jefferson and General LaFayette, held that the rights of man are universal, valid at all times and in every place, pertaining to human nature itself. It became the basis for a nation of free individuals protected equally by law and was a core statement of the values of the French revolution. (Excerpted from Wikipedia.)
12
Ghastly Godliness
Crazy Texas congressman claims proof of the existence of god.
11
Sabbath Sermonette
“I have a great mind to believe in Christianity for the mere pleasure of fancying I may be damned.”
Jeudi rapidE
Last night was another fabulous Thursday at Culture Rapide -- lots of very talented performers! My friends Glen and Michael stayed in Paris for a few extra days (hence my infrequency this week in the Bob-World) and performed once more at CR. They really are a great singing/performing duo. I needed to take a break from poetry so I extemporaneously told a story about my friend Danny Sotomayor from Chicago who died from AIDS back in February 1992. Nary a dry eye in the house despite an upbeat ending. I think I need to alternate between the literary and the myriad of stories hidden in those dark recesses of that mind of mine! I have to say it was a pleasure not to have a piece of paper in front of me.
8
Jeudi rapidE/downtown SLAM
Two friends from Long Beach, California, Glen Schubert and Michael Catti, arrived in Paris last Thursday for six days. They are performers: Glen is a drag performer under the name of Tammie Brown (https://www.tammiebrown.net/index.html) and Michael plays the guitar and sings. They came with me to both Culture Rapide last Thursday and to the Downtown Cafe last night. They were big hits in both venues. As I write this they are performing in the streets of Paris!
Glen and Michael
Me Vlad, bartender at CR
At Culture Rapide, I read an updated poem, now entitled “Insanity” (below) which was inspired by the Supreme Court decision on Hobby Lobby announced last week. Oddly enough, I have yet to summon up the totality of disdain I have for the religiosity of both the court and the public at large! Downtown Cafe saw a reprise of the show tunes in French previewed earlier at CR.
Insanity
If I told you
The reaper
Had taken me
But I was back
From the tomb
Would you believe?
If god and I chatted in a dream
Or texted on tablets of gold or stone
Would you bow down before me?
While you bend to mythology
Wearing outdated black hats
And anvil-sized crucifixes
Covering your body in dark colors
Refusing to cut
Hair or beard
Adoring the ancients who
Killed their children
Raped their wives
Slaughtered untold innocents
Hoarded money from false witness
While defecating on sacred ground
How offensive is your ignorance
Denigrating women
As second class
Or lower
No driving
No voting
No career
No priesthood
No control of body
No respect
No freedom
Hating gays and lesbians
With Deceit, Shame
Mocking, Incarceration
Torture, Death
Denying all knowledge
Dismissing evolution
Castigating the sciences
While building arks
Celebrating cannibalism
Lighting candles of
Feigned symbology
Non compos mentis
Veneration of miracles
Virgin births
And sacred zombies
You shame the species
Obstructing progress
By praying for sins you had to create
To maintain the business of
Con men and fools
May the hell you espouse
Prove to be your truth.
4
Sabbath Sermonette
“The reason people use a crucifix against vampires is because vampires are allergic to bullshit.”
Richard Pryor