De Canadese dichter, schrijver en acteur Sky Gilbert werd geboren op 20 december 1952 Norwich, Connecticut. Zie ook alle tags voor Sky Gilbert op dit blog.

Uit: Come Back

“Yes, I am aware that I should, perhaps, not go there. Even as I write, the word sentiment — or rather sentimentality — comes up like yesterday’s dinner. Please believe me that there is no urge on my part to go back. It is long gone and I don’t give a flying fuck. So I am slipping into my previous nomenclature. But I don’t — I really don’t — give a damn about any of it. Do you think I want to go back? When I think for a moment, it all returns. Like a flood, yes, but one I can control.
I see you, in my mind’s eye, sitting there, smiling, looking satiric. When? When was it that I suggested something you considered very outrageous, and you said, “It seems that you have temporarily lost your mind”? And then you went on in that vein. You know, my darling, I wish you were not so ruled by your loins.
Is it that? You claim it is.
Of course, Johnny. But sometimes I think it is your heart, because that is the way we think of women — and you are one. But still. Let’s just say it has nothing to do with being a woman. We both know that men too are puddles, and can dissolve even without menstruating.
Remember when you stopped menstruating? I do. You dove into bodybuilding with your usual innocent bravado — no reservations whatsoever. Then it was, “I want a period. I don’t want to stop fucking menstruating. Jesus.” Someday you will. Soon, actually. That is certainly a something I no longer regret. Perhaps it has to do with what I am going to tell you about. Because, Johnny, I am going to use you unabashedly as a sounding board. That’s what you are best at when it comes to me, but I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you, so I suppose you are more than that to me. You know what I mean. You are what, barely fifty? And I am … so old, so very, very old. One cannot even imagine how old I am. And to have died so many times! When one has lived and died so often it does not seem quite so fantastical to get a little teary-eyed. It won’t last. But yes, even after all these years there is a whiff. A friend of mine wrote a beautiful essay once called “A Whiff of Abandon.” There’s a whiff of abandon in me. It’s still there, even though I cannot, or will not, act upon it. No, I have no real actual desire to climb onto one of those things, to straddle it again, or better yet to have it in my mouth. There is still the memory — but memory does not express it — the mood (it is in a way a mood) that overtakes one. But that sounds too romantic. There is a sense memory — the way actors talk about the remembrance of a smell, or a taste. Jesus, it’s enough maybe to say there is still a longing for it — an appreciation of beauty that never goes away.” 

Sky Gilbert (Norwich, 20 december 1952)

De Amerikaanse dichter Kenneth Rexroth werd geboren in South Bend (Indiana) op 22 december 1905. Zie ook alle tags voor Kenneth Rexroth op dit blog.

Vitaminen en ruwvoer

Met sterke enkels, verbrand door de zon, bijna naakt,
Worden door de dochters van Californië
Onwillige humanisten onderwezen;
In hun schedels drukken zij met tennisballen
De ongelukkige realisatie
Dat de natuur nog steeds sterker is dan de mens.
Het speciale Helleense voorrecht
Van het speciale intellect sijpelt
Eindelijk in deze geïrrigeerde grond.
Zweet van atleten en sap van geliefden
Zijn sterker dan Socrates’ dollekervel;
En de spelletjes van nauwgezette Euclides
Verdwijnen in de gymnopaedia.

Vertaald door Frans Roumen

Kenneth Rexroth (22 december 1905 – 6 juni 1982)

Zie voor de schrijvers van de 20e december ook mijn blog van 20 december 2021 en ook mijn blog van 20 december 2018 en ook mijn blog van 20 december 2015 deel 2 en eveneens deel 3.

De Canadese dichter, schrijver en acteur Sky Gilbert werd geboren op 20 december 1952 Norwich, Connecticut. Zie ook alle tags voor Sky Gilbert op dit blog.

Uit: Ejaculations From the Charm Factory. A Memoir

“I write this with trepidation. Mainly, I wonder why you would want to read it. What is there about Sky Gilbert’s life that’s going to hold anyone’s inter-est through a whole book? I certainly don’t think my personal history is particularly fascinating to anyone but a dear friend. If this book has any value, it will be because of the important period of time onto which my life has trespassed. This memoir spans the 18 years, from 1979 to 1997, when I was Artistic Director of Buddies in Bad Times Theatre in Toronto. It was a time when my life intersected, intimately, with two worlds — theatre and sexual politics. And I was able to watch both change, gradually but fundamentally. What’s so important about the period from 1979 to 1997? March 18, 1979, was the closing night of the Broadway play On the Twentieth Century. This brilliant musical comedy was directed by Harold Prince, with lyrics by Betty Comden and Adolph Green, and music by Cy Coleman. On the Twentieth Century was one of the wittiest, “singingest” musical comedies to be born from the hothouse of American musical theatre. It was also a gigantic box office flop. Why? Because by 1979 Andrew Lloyd Webber was developing the “mega-musical,” and Michael Bennett’s A Chorus Line was already on its way to becoming one of the longest-running plays in Broad-way history. In 1979 the tide was changing in New York theatre; intelligent lyrics, good books — talent — didn’t matter anymore. Big bucks did. Not coincidentally, as the brilliant librettists seemed to disappear, so did the serious playwrights. Also not coincidentally, as New York was experiencing this dumbing down of the mainstream, there was a corresponding renaissance of the avant-garde. Richard Foreman, Lee Breuer, and Elizabeth LeCompte concocted astounding visions with experimental theatre companies like the Ontological Hysterical Theater and the Wooster Group. These fundamental changes in New York’s arts scene would eventually have their effect on my professional theatre life in Toronto. And two months later in San Francisco, on May 21, 1979, Dan White was given a lenient sentence for a heinous cold-blooded hate crime — the murder of gay city hall supervisor Harvey Milk. Near riots ensued outside San Francisco City Hall. The murder of Milk was symptomatic of the furious backlash that accompanied the rise of gay liberation in the ‘7os. From Anita Bryant’s rage against homosexuals (who, she said, “eat sperm”) to Toronto’s bathhouse raids, the war was on. Gay liberation changed its very nature during the ‘8os, especially when the hatemongers were given additional ammunition by the mysterious “gay epidemic” that was to surface two years after White’s sentencing. These changes had a significant effect on my work as an activist in Toronto. Through Buddies in Bad Times Theatre, these two worlds — theatre and sexual politics — intersected and sometimes merged. The most important and absolutely true thing I can tell you about that time is this: I was there.”

De Amerikaanse dichter Kenneth Rexroth werd geboren in South Bend (Indiana) op 22 december 1905. Zie ook alle tags voor Kenneth Rexroth op dit blog.

De kruisdagen

Onder de boomgaarden, onder
De aan bomen geregen wijnstokken,
Maken kleine blauwe gestalten hooi, hoog
Op de steile hellingen erboven
Palladio’s slaperige villa’s
En de wervelende muren van Tiepolo.
Op het hoogste veld staan ze
Nog steeds te snijden met zwaaiende zeisen;
Beneden gooien ze
De grote balen hooi op om te drogen
In de zon; verderop
Schudden ze het of brengen ze het
Weg in tweewielige ezelkarren.
De Venetiaanse vlakte verdwijnt
In nevel. De nabijgelegen Alpen zijn
Onbepaalde blauwe vlekken,
Afgedekt met vage oranje strepen
Sneeuw. Wolken parfum rollen
De heuvel op in golven. Alle vogels
Zingen. Alle bloemen bloeien. Hier
Aan een stenen tafel als deze,
Op een kleine heuvel als deze,
In een cirkel van cipressen
En olijf zoals deze, bezocht
Het oneindige Leopardi,
En verrukte hem en droeg hem
Hem weg de diepe zomer in.
Het zou ook mij wegvoeren,
Als ik wist waar ik heen wilde
Of als ik gewoon
Helemaal nergens heen wilde.

Vertaald door Frans Roumen

Zie voor de schrijvers van de 20e december ook mijn blog van 20 december 2021 en ook mijn blog van 20 december 2018 en ook mijn blog van 20 december 2015 deel 2 en eveneens deel 3.

De Canadese dichter, schrijver en acteur Sky Gilbert werd geboren op 20 december 1952 Norwich, Connecticut. Zie ook alle tags voor Sky Gilbert op dit blog.

Uit: I, Gloria Grahame

“I, Gloria Grahame. It is certainly with a sense of some guilt that I write that. Or not guilt. Let’s just say that it seems a kind of false freedom, because I am not. I can only be her for a short while, while pen is put to paper, or perhaps I should say more accurately, finger to keyboard — when I am writing whatever this is. (I don’t call it anything, not even a diary or a journal, that would be too presumptuous.) She is certainly not me, and I have no relationship with her other than the fact that I do imagine I am this particular storied Hollywood film noir star, and I write as if I were her occasionally. But no one sees that writing. If you are reading this it is probably because I have been arrested finally or put to death. Good riddance, as they say. But all I do is fantasize that I’m Gloria Grahame. I am not her. I’m a very different person from her, and it’s being completely honest to tell you that.
How do I begin to describe myself?
I have always been not very manly and somewhat invisible. Now that I am of a certain age, I wear hats and scarves, even in summer, and they serve to cover me somewhat, as I do not wish to be noticed. In fact, I wish to disappear; that is, short of dying. Why? It has basically become a little too much trouble to be alive. I think everyone reaches a point where that becomes the case and then they just die, one way or the other. That’s my terribly depressing theory. It isn’t that we outlive our usefulness or that nobody loves us, it’s just that it finally isn’t worth it anymore, the struggle. Anyway, first of all, or perhaps most of all, there is my voice. Have you ever heard Truman Capote’s voice? You might google it, and if you do, you will discover that even for the most dedicated homophile it is just a little too much. I can’t help it; I was born this way, to quote the great Gaga. When I open my mouth I betray myself. And yes, I always sashay a little bit, and there are mannerisms. But it is not a case of choosing to act this way; let me make that perfectly clear. If I had my way I would be someone else, I would be John Wayne, particularly the way he looked when he was young. (Did you know his real name was Marion?) Yes, I would prefer to be effortlessly masculine, which is the way I describe the type of man I am often attracted to. This makes me hopeless in a Quentin Crisp sort of way. I lust after the type of young man who would not be caught dead in public with me, which makes my case tragic, except of course for what you can get up to in private. But I pretty much don’t bother with that anymore, either. So I have become this haunted thing, or rather this thing that would wish to be haunted or hunted, or something, but what I am really is just the type of person who makes people feel uncomfortable and who they would like more than anything to ignore.”

De Amerikaanse dichter Kenneth Rexroth werd geboren in South Bend (Indiana) op 22 december 1905. Zie ook alle tags voor Kenneth Rexroth op dit blog.

Dimanche bleu

Kastanjebloemen vallen
In de lege straat die stinkt
Naar ziekenhuizen en koken.
De radio breekt
Iemands hart ergens
In een vuile slaapkamer.
Niemand luistert.
Tien mijl ver in beide richtingen
Staan de huizen allemaal leeg.
Niemand woont in deze stad.
Buiten de stadsgrenzen
Zijn groene en witte begraafplaatsen.
Niemand ligt in de graven.
Met zeer lange tussenpozen
Proest en sputtert de kapotte gietijzeren
Fontein op de binnenplaats.
In de vuile slaapkamer
Zijn drie jonge hoeren aan het dobbelen.
Met zeer lange tussenpozen
Spreekt een van hen tegen de dobbelstenen.
Verder zwijgen ze.
Nadat alle kastanjebloesem
Is gevallen gaat de gele
Zon onder en schijnen de sterren
Boven de lege stad
En waaien kranten door de straat.

Vertaald door Frans Roumen

Zie voor de schrijvers van de 20e december ook mijn blog van 20 december 2021 en ook mijn blog van 20 december 2018 en ook mijn blog van 20 december 2015 deel 2 en eveneens deel 3.