Amsterdam Then and Now: The Melkweg

Amsterdam: The Melkweg. Summer of 1983. Time regained through the power of photography -- and memory.   

Same frontage, summer of 2017, on a rainy night. 

Melkweg:  Lijnbaansgracht 234a
1017 PH Amsterdam                                                   Telefoon: 020-5318181
Link here  

Front of the Melkweg in daylight. Summer 2017.  All photos by Erik Donald France. 

I've written about the Melkweg for years. Here's a post from quite a little while ago. Amsterdam forever! 

Today's Rune: Partnership.

Amsterdam: Now and Then

Six images from trips to Amsterdam for comparison: three shots from the Summer of 2017, and two from the Summer of 1983, plus a scanned receipt.  

Above: Museumplein. Unaltered HTC mobile phone shot. You can click on it for a larger image. The Irish green jumps off the page. Do you know the pointillist work of the French painter Georges Seurat (1859-1891)? Check out his Un dimanche après-midi à l'Île de la Grande Jatte / A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte (1884-1886) for comparison. It's like you've entered into the scene, except without the water. Here's a link to the Art Institute of Chicago's image of it. 

Leidseplein: a busy place day and night. Unaltered HTC mobile phone shot. You can click on it for a larger image.

Stadsschouwburg, also on the Leidseplein. This one's with a Nikon Coolpix B500, compressed. 

Scanned receipt from Bob's Youth Hostel, July 1983. If I remember correctly, the cost was $3 per night at the time, in a dorm room -- equivalent to about $7.50 now. Same address: Nieuwezijds voorburgwal 92, 1012 SG, Amsterdam. Even the Telefoon number is mostly the same, with some additional prefix numbers added on for international calls. Then: 230063. Now: +31 (0) 20-6230063. The relative cost is higher now, but so are the options, including your own room.

This was probably somewhere along the way between Bob's Youth Hostel and the Melkweg. When one experiences something in an altered state, some memory details seem to float off into space. Probably Leidesgracht, Spruitstraat or Herengracht. Someone could identify this from the bell tower in the left background. Parts of Amsterdam were seedier (and "patchier," as my Londoner landlord once put it) in the Summer of 1983 than they were in 2017.

In the Summer of 1983, the 't Cafe with the Rolling Stones logo was facing the Leidseplein at or about Leidseplein 18. Later it was called the 't Cafe Black and White and seems to have since relocated. There have also been the Café Mokum and Café De Waard at the same address. So who knows anymore? There is only this image to go by. I remember that God-awful hairstyle that some people wore then. I also remember sitting on a bench and first seeing this logo during the daytime, when a dog came up to me to be petted, a Labrador mix retriever. 

Amsterdam forever! It's good to take pictures of places where you hang out because before you know it, some of them are gone! But if they're still there, all the better. 

Today's Rune: Joy.

"That's Like Hypnotizing Chickens"

"In North America alone there are 10 billion chickens, compared to 4 billion wild birds." Jim Robbins, The Wonder of Birds: What They Tell Us About Ourselves, the World, and a Better Future. New York: Spiegel & Grau, 2017, page 81.

In the USA: "Until the 1940s, chickens were raised primarily for their eggs. Chickens themselves assumed a starring role in the American diet during World War II because chicken, unlike beef and pork, wasn't rationed . . . The chicken [now, as of this post] is the most industrialized animal in the history of the world." Ibid. page 83.

"Chickens can solve problems and display an ability to think about the future." They also have a sense of object permanence (when they see something go out of line of sight, said thing does not go out of mind -- they remember). Ibid., page 88.  

Interested people are attempting to save enough wild chickens to prevent the collapse of all but genetically stunted industrialized populations. "Experts liken the loss of these genes for survival to the destruction of a library without knowing what's in it. That's why the Livestock Conservancy searches out genetic diversity in chickens, ducks, turkeys, and geese before these local breeds blink out, and it encourages farmers to raise those birds." Ibid., page 91. 

"Oh love love love
That's like hypnotizing chickens
Well I am just a modern guy
Of course I've had it in the ear before
'Cause of a lust for life!"

"Lust for Life" (1977) Iggy Pop and David Bowie

Images: 

Saul bij de heks van Endor / Saul and the Witch of Endor by Jacob Cornelisz van Oostsanen (1525/1526), Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. Close-up by Erik Donald France, June 2017.

In the field, Brugge / Bruges, Belgium, EDF, June 2017.

Gustav Klimt, Gartenweg mit Hühnern / Garden Path with Chickens (1916). Klimt died during the Great Influenza Pandemic of 1918; the original of this World War One era painting was destroyed near the end of World War Two, in 1945.

Today's Rune: Breakthrough. 

Elizabeth Lunday: 'Secret Lives of Great Artists' (2008)

While at the Barnes Foundation in Philadelphia, picked up a copy of Elizabeth Lunday's wildly entertaining Secret Lives of Great Artists: What Your Teachers Never Told You About Master Painters and Sculptors (Philadelphia: Quirk Books, 2008), illustrated by Mario Zucca. Finished a first go-through in Amsterdam and will keep it as a gateway to more fun down the road. 

Lunday romps through the arcs and ripples of some thirty-seven artists, ranging from Jan van Eyck (circa 1385-1441) to Andy Warhol (1928-1987).  Most of them, by the middling standards of today's bland social conformity and Trumpian stoogery, come off as right eccentrics. Many were free-wheeling Bohemians at heart, while some -- like Michelangelo Buonarroti (1475-1564) -- were downright bizarro. 

On my first reading, I found satisfying every jot and tittle of Secret Lives of Great Artists. Perhaps you will, too. A lot of readers will be familiar with at least some of the art made by these folks, by some of the artists, and by many of both. 

As Lunday notes of Edvard Munch's The Scream (Der Schrei der Natur, 1893): "It's probably a safe bet Munch had no idea this image would live on in popular culture, appearing on coffee mugs, in slasher films, and on episodes of The Simpsons." (page 174). By the way, there are four versions of The Scream. Can you dig? 

Today's Rune: Partnership. 

Philadelphia in Transit to Amsterdam, June 2017

Philadelphia's Chinatown at Friendship Gate, 10th and Arch Street. About the size of Greektown in Detroit, there's been an Asian core magnet here for something like 150 years. This is close to the Reading Market and the Convention Center. 

Moriarty's Irish Pub & Restaurant, 1116 Walnut Street (at Quince, from which point this side shot was taken). The building is 187 years old (built in 1830). Incidentally, Moriarty is one of my ancestral names. 

Sometime after I moved from my tiny 12th and Spruce garret apartment, Amy Winehouse ducked into Moriarty's for a drink. That would have been something to behold! 

1218 Spruce Street, built in or around 1840. Now the Philadelphia Bridal Company, in the 1990s this was Nga Mai's Café Diva. I lived across the street at 1225 Spruce, drank a lot of coffee here, and also I occasionally covered for Nga, or played chess. Not sure why there's a large "PODS" unit in front -- an alien sleeping unit, perhaps?

Reflecting pool on the grounds of the Barnes Foundation at 2025 Benjamin Franklin Parkway. This is a stellar art museum. Its holdings were relocated from Lower Merion (a Philadelphia suburb on the Main Line) to here in 2012. 

Note: images taken with a mobile phone, nothing fancy. 

Today's Rune: Initiation.     

Amy J. Berg's 'Janis: Little Girl Blue' (2015)

Amy J. Berg's Janis: Little Girl Blue (2015), a state of the art documentary biography of Janis Joplin (1943-1970), presents her life in a most compelling, sensitive and soulful manner. My first serious foray into this field was Howard Alk's Janis (1974), which I saw at the Melkweg in Amsterdam when I was twenty-two -- and I loved it, not to mention the audience's raucous response. Now I'd consider Alk's documentary as a complement or supplement to Berg's. There have been other films, and there have been excellent books on Janis, too. As anyone who knows her music can testify, Janis Joplin was intense. Amy J. Berg has done her justice here. 

Today's Rune: Signals. 

In the Port of Amsterdam -- or Copenhagen

If cameras serve as visual "recording angels," here's a mystery along the lines of Michelangelo Antonioni's Blowup / aka Blow-Up (1966). It imprints the possibilities of a story or some sort of reconstructed memory. 

Resurrecting images from a scanned negative, even though I snapped this picture there's only a twin-trickster memory of such an interior -- Amsterdam and Copenhagen / København. 1980s. An intense examination would yield results -- there's lettering visible in this cropped blowup, for example. But for now, it remains a mystery of sorts. More will be revealed -- or not.

Here the setup looks sort of like the final scene in The Sopranos.

And here we pull back to the beginning image. What is this place?

In corresponding textual memory of Amsterdam and Copenhagen, I remember locales such as the Melkweg / Milky Way, Zorba the Buddha, Musikcaféen and the Texas Saloon, plus certain international hostels. Could this be a small antechamber attached to one of them?  

Today's Rune: The Mystery Rune.   

Chinese Whispers: Big Bird in Exile?

All day after last night's presidential election debate, stories and jokes about Sesame Street have been bouncing around the cybersphere. It's sort of like the old game of "Chinese Whispers," also known as "Telephone" or, as its surrealistic cousin is called, "Exquisite Corpse." Even people on the street are talking about it. "Poor Oscar the Grouch," one guy quipped. "He's already living in a trash can; if Romney won he'd be totally homeless." Ha! What next, Big Bird in Exile?

Here's what started millions of cyberbubbles zipping around the world -- Mitt Romney's statement (on October 3, 2012), in Denver:  "I'm sorry, Jim. I'm going to stop the subsidy to PBS. I'm going to stop other things. I like PBS. I love Big Bird. I actually like you too. But I'm not going to — I'm not going to keep on spending money on things to borrow money from China to pay for it. That's number one."

This was Romney's only specific budget cut proposal during the debate. 



Beyond Sesame Street, there's China and Chinese people. One of the last things I ever took notice of about Big Bird prior to last night was a special called Big Bird in China (1983), something that seems all the more apt today. Nowadays, the economies of the USA and People's Republic of China are intextricably linked. But even so, China and Chinese have down the centuries been convenient scapegoats for various and sundry. It's almost hard to believe, but even in the 20th century a lot of Americans still referred to any Chinese person as a "Chinaman" -- and that was the more "polite" epithet. This fact is wickedly lampooned in the Coen Brothers' The Big Lebowski (1998). Walter Sobchak (John Goodman): "The Chinaman is not the issue here, Dude. I'm talking about drawing a line in the sand, Dude. Across this line, you do not . . . Also, Dude, Chinaman is not the preferred nomenclature. Asian-American, please." And there's the matter of "some Chinaman" in the Korean War.

A quick perusal of stories that include the word "Chinaman" in the headlines of that hoary American newspaper of record -- the New York Times -- reveals a lot about what constituted "acceptable language" and widespread attitudes in the late 1800s and early 1900s.

November 22, 1884: "A CHINAMAN A CHINAMAN ALWAYS." This discusses the legal status of one Ah Kee, born in Hong Kong. ". . . Judge Brown held that a Chinaman was a Chinaman, no matter where he was born or where he lived. A Chinaman could never lose his nationality . . ."

October 2, 1885: "A CHINAMAN STRIKES BACK." This was an incident reported from Bismarck, "Dakota:" a "slightly intoxicated" man named Thurston "passed a Chinaman who was sitting in front of his laundry. Turning around, Thurston slapped the Chinaman in the face, saying: 'What the ____ are you doing here?' The Chinaman sprang to his feet, knocked Thurston into the street, and would have killed him if he had not been pulled off."

September 15, 1888. "HE WAS A GOOD CHINAMAN. AND HE TRIED TO BE JUST AS GOOD A CHRISTIAN."  

One Lo Ye reportedly died of a heart condition during a Sunday school session. "He had given up his habit of worshipping brazen images and material representations in hideous forms of beneficent heathen gods, and intended to become as good a Christian as soon as possible . . ."  Afterwards, "scores of Mongolians came to the chapel to gaze upon the feautures of the dead. With impressively sad countenances, they came, gazed in silence for a moment, and then with even more sorrowful faces went away."

October 18, 1888: "A CHINAMAN IS A CHINAMAN." (Sequel to 1884 story above).

July 8, 1904: 'CHINAMAN ROUTS ITALIAN. With Hot Iron and Water He Resents Attack on His Queue."

One John Trepori, "an Italian," reportedly was harassing one Lang Ung "at 36 North Fourth Avenue." A stiletto was involved,  and then a pistol. As things went from bad to worse, Trepori "drew a revolver . . . and fired point blank at the chattering Chinaman," who was not seriously injured. Both men, however, were arrested.

July 28, 1907: "AGAPE AT CHINAMAN'S WIFE. White Woman Lectured Harlem Mob Which Threw Things -- Police Called."  This story revolves around one "Wo Lee, Chinaman, at 1329 Amsterdam Avenue . . . near 125th Street." A woman identifying herself as Mrs. Wo Lee reportedly asked a gathering crowd, "Didn't you ever see a white woman married to a Chinaman before? I am sure you must have. Why, I have even known white women to marry
negroes . . . Please go away now."

And so on. Today's syndicated news outlets are slightly more subtle in revealing many such biases and prejudices, yet they're still quite outrageous when you investigate closely. Can you imagine looking at 2012 from the perspective of a hundred years from now? 

As for Big Bird and Sesame Street, in November I'm voting for Barack Obama again -- just as I did in 2008. Even a hundred years from now, I suspect, my voting record will stand proudly. 

Today's Rune: Joy.

BOMB IT: A Film by Jon Reiss

A film that makes you wonder about spaces, public and private. Who "owns" what?  Who gets to decide what goes where and when? And how? Why?  Dig it!

BOMB IT (2007) ranges from Cornbread, Philadelphia's first major tagger insurgent circa 1967, to New York City in the 1970s, across to Europe and down to South Africa, over to Latin America and on to Tokyo, and then via LA and all over again to consider writing, tagging and bombing in a myriad of incarnations.  Let's not forget Shepard Fairey's musings, either -- well before the 2008 US presidential campaign and "Yes We Can."  BOMB IT also gives voice to anti-graffiti activists and their philosophies. 

I noticed in one shot that a New York transit cop -- who'd been working to contain graffiti -- had an arm covered in tattoos: which goes back to notions of public and private space. One difference between graffiti and tattoos: body tattoos are probably harder to remove or cover over than most graffiti.

BOMB IT, mercifully without any annoying narration, let's the people speak for themselves (in well-edited bursts).  Many thoughtful comments are made throughout the film. For example:

Dude in Paris: "I tag therefore I am." 
Woman in Amsterdam: "You can only develop by doing" (nice advice for anyone).  
Guy in São Paulo: "Taggers aren't selling anything. They only want to show they exist."
Tokyo: Society (as in London) is heavily monitored and "controlled, but it's full of holes." (And taggers are very resourceful in exploiting those holes).

I'm usually amazed by nicely wrought graffiti, modern or ancient.  For me, it's mostly a matter of aesthetics: is a wall or cityscape made uglier or better by said street art? That is the question.  Obviously, a lot of the impulse can also be channeled into community murals and "officially sanctioned" installations, but there's something wickedly irresistible about breaking the rules. 

From the website:

BOMB IT has shot in Los Angeles, New York, Philadelphia, San Francisco, Tijuana, London, Paris, Amsterdam, Barcelona, Hamburg, Berlin, Cape Town, São Paulo, and Tokyo

http://www.bombit-themovie.com/about.php

Today's Rune: The Mystery Rune.

Crossroads and Boundaries

Next January in Austin, Texas, USA, the Society for Historical Archaeology will hold a conference with the theme "Boundaries and Crossroads in Action." Cool topic. Boundaries and crossroads are filled with "exchanges, conflicts, challenges" for sure, especially over (or through) time. Archaeology can mine the layers, or you can just go out to a crossroads and observe for yourself. The theme has also been receiving some attention in art, communications theory and psychology.

Boundaries can be big, like an international frontier, or small, like a street or road dividing city and suburb. Some places are porous, and some are more locked down. Mack Avenue in Detroit is porous; the 38th parallel dividing Korea is locked down. Going back to frontier days in North America (or anywhere else), crossroads and boundaries entailed a lot of unpredictability and interaction -- and instability. Since recorded history began, border towns and port cities have tended to be wilder and rougher, less sheltered than interior towns, though even deep in the interior of many places, strange things have happened near crossroads and on the "inside" of boundaries.

I can think of a bunch of ways this all applies, but for one, think of how people in the recent past (and in many places, still) would make a booze run from "dry" areas to "wet" areas, and all that entailed with policing, risk, danger and excitement! Think of gobs of youthful travellers crossing from Michigan into Canada or Amsterdam to skirt laws enforced within their home boundaries . . . and you get the idea. Think race, class, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, religion, profession, organization, etcetera, and the possibilities for exploration and storytelling are as boundless as Médecins Sans Frontières . . .

Today's Rune: Partnership.

Amsterdam: More Cowbell at the Melkweg

Here's a night shot I took at the Melkweg in Amsterdam, summer 1983. This cultural center opened in 1970 and is still going strong in 2009. Back in '83, I saw plenty of live music and a Janis Joplin film, packed with people. Sort of like an elaborate version of the Majestic Complex (including the Magic Stick) in Detroit, it's located not far from the International Youth Hostel at Lijnbaansgracht 234. Here's a link to the Melkweg ("The Milky Way") website: http://www.melkweg.nl/ I stayed at a different hostel over the noisy Texas Lone Star Saloon for $3 per night, which is not to be recommended for those who prefer more luxurious lodgings.

In 1983, evidence of Pink Floyd abounded in every milk bar, coffee house or real bar I ever checked out. Pink Floyd: Live at Pompeii (1972) was flashing on multiple screens, particularly "Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun." Cafés served all sorts of concoctions with the word "Space" in their names. Above is the COW album cover of Atom Heart Mother (1970) which I first came across in my sister Linda's record collection soon after it came out. The one that stuck out to me as a kid was "Alan's Psychedelic Breakfast," sizzling on the grill.



"Under the Milky Way" (1988) by The Church was inspired by the Melkweg. Amsterdam is very colorful at night. Can you dig?

Today's Rune: Strength.

The Spanish Steps

I remember heat so stifling that the pensione became not a place to sleep in, but a place to flee from. There were eight people sharing the same room, and a trickling shower. Out into the streets, where wiser Italians were already strolling around the Roman fountains, catching some relief.

Well after dark, I half-slept on a stone bench near the top of the Spanish Steps (or the Scalinata della Trinità dei Monti to the locals), hoping the next day would be cooler (it wasn't). Italy's heatwave at the time kept daytime temps well above a hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Still, I'd love to transport myself back there right about now, in more than words. . .

At the top of the Spanish Steps, which were finished in 1725 when Detroit was a small French fort and trading post, stands the Santissima Trinità al Monte Pincio, which itself had already been completed in 1585, twenty years after the post of St. Augustine was established in Spanish Florida. The monument in front of the church atop the steps is the Obelisco Sallustiano, a Roman obelisk that may have been brought back from Egypt in the first or second century A.D.; it was placed where it is now (and was then, my night under its presence a quarter century ago) in 1789.

In front of the base of the Spanish Steps is the Piazza di Spagna or Spanish Plaza, the vantage point from which the above picture was taken, probably in the early 1980s or late 1970s. In the plaza itself is the Fontana della Barcaccia, a beautiful fountain that dates back to 1629 -- just five years after the establishment of New Amsterdam, now New York City.

Just outside of the picture to the right is the Keats-Shelley House, where John Keats died in 1821. Hearing the fountain while dying, he chose as his epitaph: "Here lies one whose name was writ in water."

Today's Rune: The Self.

Pink Floyd - Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun

Pink Floyd Live at Pompeii (1972). I remember sitting in a cafe in Amsterdam in the early 1980s, completely mesmerized by this, and by the members of the band walking through the vapors of Mount Vesuvius. . . This is only a snippet . . . must write about those European escapades at some point . . .

The War Room

Relax. Our world is administered by responsible men -- and the occasional woman. Relax. Relax. Relax.


People loving people. Iranians aren't Arabs. The Shi'ia Revival transcends borders, ehtnicities. But above the din, Albanians rule!

Detroit has a TV channel highlighting matters important to its Albanian population. Near where I live, a Serbian woman says, "Albanians are Turks. In my country, we call them Turks."

And to think, a hundred years ago the Ottoman Empire still existed in "Yugoslavia." All they needed was l.o.v.e. Love to love you, baby.


Ciara: The Evolution (2006). Where crunk rules! Evolution of music, fashion. It's all true. But many people don't believe in evolution. No wonder. From simple observation, Devolution makes more sense. Earth, air, fire and water: the future is uncertain and the end is always near.


The fallback position: Whispers and Moans / Sing kung chok tse sup yut tam (2007) with Athena Chu. Even downtown, voices carry. Hong Kong at night, by Amsterdam's red lights.

The War Room (1993): James Carville (he turned 63 today) and Bill Clinton to the attack! Election 1992. Sequel: Election 2008. The backdrop: Baghdad, Tehran, Islamabad, Jerusalem, Khyber Pass. International intrigue. Brinksmanship. Seat belts: buckle up.


Celebrate good times (all right!) in The Bunker. Faye Wong will pour the drinks. China's on the rise, India, Brazil. Bedtime for Bonzos. Don't worry. Be happy.

Ah, yes: The beauty that was Greece, the glory that was Rome.

From the universal soldier, the universal translator: Mirë upafshim! Drink up!

The Storyville Concept

If prostitution is one of the longest-lasting professions (i.e. work involving some kind of skilled sexual activity in exchange for goods, protection or money), how should a given society respond to it? Compare with two other ancient still-going professions: priesthood and warrior (i.e. killing or imposing the will of above on the bulk of a society in exchange for the same payback as prostitution, plus a degree of power and prestige). In other words, a profession that offers sexual pleasure vs. ones that extol threats of violence, extortion, and rules to be obeyed or else.

The US in general holds particularly bizarre attitudes toward sex and gender issues, exploiting sex for marketing and entertainment and anything that fuels spending on the one hand, moralizing about indecency and obscenity on the other. The result is maintaining how things are now, completely dysfunctional and, frankly, crazy.

From time to time, experiments have been made with nodding and winking at prostitition districts, the idea being to contain and regulate such exchanges to certain areas only, presumably balancing protection of minors and Puritans with the reality of "adult entertainment." Such areas in Amsterdam exist, for instance, and in the USA from 1897 to 1917, such a district was created and tolerated in the Storyville section of New Orleans. It was shut down during World War One, part of the "reforms" that led on the one hand to adult women being able to vote but on the other to Prohibition. And we all know how well Prohibition went. When legalized booze was brought back, prostitution was kept under the rug and has never, for the most part, really been dealt with in a serious, rational manner again.

Now what? More don't ask, don't tell, bribe officials and try not to get caught with one's pants down in a seedy nexus of organized crime? It's the American way, but it doesn't have to be.

Today's Rune: Protection.

Todays's Birthdays: Charlemagne, Giacomo Casanova, Hans Christian Andersen, Émile Zola, Marvin Gaye, Linda Hunt, Rodney King.

C'est O!

Amsterdam: Janis at the Melkweg

When Janis Joplin died in 1970 at age twenty-seven (that'll be thirty-seven years ago in October), Nixon had expanded the Vietnam War into Cambodia, protesting (and bystanding) students had been gunned down at Kent State (Ohio) and Jackson State (Mississippi), while -- more peacefully -- the Melkweg was set to open as an art and performance venue in Amsterdam.

Today, as G.W. Bush escalates American troop strength in Iraq, another chopper goes down with all thirteen dead on board, even as the Bush team mulls over expanding the war into Iran by air, naval, and special forces attack -- the Melkweg still peacefully stands and operates in Amsterdam.



The Melkweg provided an ideal setting to see Janis (1974) on a big screen. The audience was wild, as rowdy and enthralled as if it was an actual Janis Joplin concert.

I was staying in Amsterdam at a hostel and, briefly, on the streets, when I saw a poster for the Janis film. Crossing several little bridges over criss-crossing canals, I made it in time to check out the various delivery systems for decriminalized (or legalized -- it wasn't clear and didn't matter at the time) pot and hashish. Even at the Hard Rock Cafe, where Pink Floyd's Live at Pompeii was playing, they served up Space Cake to enhance the show. The Melkweg, a converted Dairy, offered Space Yogurt and Space Balls, baked things loaded up with God knows what. Given that this was Amsterdam, the counterculture carried weight, and who was I not to try things out locally? Hence I was a little spacey and glazey for the Janis experience.

Besides people cheering and singing and having a great good time, there was a drunken stoned American sailor with large mustachios (a la the Village People) who kept screaming at the top of his hoarse lungs, sounding vaguely retarded but not caring in the least: I LOVE YOU JANIS! I LOVE YOU JANIS! BALL AND CHAIN! BALL AND CHAIN!

I loved it -- no better way to see a documentary film, surely. Afterwards, I threaded a way back to my $3 per night hostel above the Texas Lone Star Saloon. You get, as they say, what you pay for. But that's surely for another post.

Rune: Wholeness.

Tot ziens -- Tot kijk -- Tot straks -- Dag -- Hoi -- Vaarwel -- Aju -- Doei -- De ballen!

Penelope Spheeris: The Decline of Western Civilization Part III

What I noticed in Amsterdam, London, New Orleans, and elsewhere in the 1980s was this sad offshoot of people too young for the original punk scene but still as aimless and defiant as anyone I knew. I always heard of this subculture referred to as "Hardcore."

I still cringe at the thought of "all ages" shows. For me, I'd rather stick with adults only during after hours. Seems like a sad crew, indeed.

This legendary third installment (1998/2000) in the Decline documentary series is, as far as I know, not yet available in DVD or any other digital format. Spheeris is cool, though, and perhaps will turn up with a IVth chapter before we know it. Meanwhile, she is still working on The Gospel According to Janis (from what I can gather via internet sources and from Lee's comments). If so, good luck to her! There's a strange dearth of Janis Joplin films, along with Anne Sexton films. If I was Penelope Spheeris' confidante, I'd urge her to consider a Sexton project, too.

When I was in London, I saw an interesting play that followed the eerily parallel lives of Billie Holiday and Edith Piaf, one that had them meet once in passing in Manhattan. Sort of like a get-together of Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, and Jimi Hendrix all at the same time. They were great ones, certainly.

Today's Rune: Possessions.

Ciao!

El Cinco de Mayo

Back in late 1861, Napoleon III sent a small French expeditionary force to seize control of Mexico City under the pretext of collecting overdue debt payments. About 6,500 soldiers marched inland from Vera Cruz, following the same path that an American army had taken in 1847. Mexican general Ignacio Zaragoza pulled together a smaller force near Puebla, blocking the French advance with a fortified defensive line. On May 5, 1862, the French attempted to break this line, but were defeated and in turn attacked by machete-wielding Indians and small but fierce cavalry units and forced to withdraw. President Benito Juárez declared The Battle of Puebla Day a national holiday that has ever since been celebrated as Cinco de Mayo. The relevance for today should not be lost: the French, stuck with Napoleon III and Empress Eugénie, his goading wife, sent in a much larger army and eventually captured Mexico City in 1864. Then as now, it proved much easier to defeat conventional forces than guerillas and partisans, and in 1867, Maximilian I, the puppet “emperor” of Mexico. was sent to the wall with two of his generals and shot by firing squad. Juárez was returned to power as president after the French departed for good.

The gallant General Zaragoza, victor at the Battle of Puebla, died at age 33 from typhoid fever less than a year after the battle.

These days, there is unrest in Mexico once more. Outside Mexico City, machete-wielding protestors recently fought with riot police over new restrictions on florist stands and shops. Keep in mind that all manner of cut flowers are exported in bulk from Latin America to the USA, so what happens there will cascade to as far as Detroit. Also, outgoing President Vincente Fox refused to sign a recently passed Congressional bill that decriminalizes possession of small amounts of various drugs, probably under pressure from his pals in Washington, D.C. Still, Mexico City may become a lot more like Amsterdam in the near future. I suppose this would allow concentration on more serious crimes, as well as stimulate tourism.

In Bolivia, President Evo Morales nationalized that nation’s oil and gas fields and sent in the Army to take control. Foreign-owned corporations must either comply with the new way and pay back taxes, or be expelled. This is a hugely popular move to Morales’ supporters, including many impoverished Indians who hope to raise their standard of living. On May Day in La Paz, Morales announced: “This is just the start . . . tomorrow or the day after it will be mining, then the forestry sector, and eventually all the natural resources for which our ancestors fought.”

Meanwhile, British Prime Minister Tony Blair downsized Foreign Minister Jack Straw, one of the main players in the Iraq debacle, and sent him to Parliament; Margaret Beckett will become the first woman foreign minister in UK history. More changes are underway amid general sentiment for Blair to resign, largely because of his naive support for a dubious American foreign policy. Back in the USA, the CIA director announced his resignation, with more surprises coming down the line. In Detroit, looks like there will be a $100 fine for talking on a cellphone while driving, plus a nightly curfew for everyone younger than eighteen. Ain’t life grand?

Viva Mexico! Happy Cinco de Mayo!

Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun

Today I found a 1962 yearbook that had a photograph of Jean Harris when she was a teacher in the Detroit area. In the picture -- a group portrait -- she's sitting by a window about ten feet from where I was holding the book. How creepy is that?

HBO is still showing Mrs. Harris and it's well worth seeing. Annette Bening is perfect in the role, and the rest of the cast is quite good, too.

Meanwhile in Iraq, Operation Swarmer is underway. More human squander. And who makes up these horrid names?

Globally, the omens are bad and coming fast; they go way beyond mere politics. We seem no better prepared for global warming and its fallout than we were for the tsunami or Katrina, which were probably in themselves signs of things to come. FEMA has managed to house thousands of people in mobile homes -- horribly vulnerable to the fast-approaching new hurricane season (which is predicted to be very active and dangerous). The bird flu is on the way to North America and could begin mutating as early as this fall. Are we prepared for a worldwide pandemic on the scale of the 1918 influenza? Not by a long shot. Are we prepared for melting ice floes and massive coastal flooding in the near future? Are we prepared for anything, really?

Jim Morrison may have had it right decades ago. "I don't know what's going to happen, man, but I want to get my kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames." (American Prayer, 1978. Amen).

With spring break looming, I showed Pompeii: The Last Day (2003) in class today. It's good. The students were riveted. The reenactments are quite believable and seem remarkably appropriate to today's world. Last time I really visualized that disaster was in Amsterdam, watching Pink Floyd Live at Pompeii. And speaking of disasters, what do you suppose the omens meant on my wedding day -- April 26, 1986? The day of Chernobyl, the day we flew to Europe for a "honeymoon"? Interestingly, San Antonio Bill posits that this fearsome nuclear disaster was a significant factor in the collapse of the Soviet Union (and come to think about it, it may have been a significant factor in the collapse of my marriage, but that's another story). I think that Bill is entirely correct in his other points, too (Afghanistan, sectarian uprisings, etc.) But collectively, what have we learned by all this?

Despite all, good personal news today: an acceptance by Pearl: A Literary Magazine for next year's poetry issue (37) by way of a very sweet letter from editor Marilyn Johnson. Here's their website: www.pearlmag.com

More good news: I applied for a grant to go back to the Hotel Chelsea and today got word that I got it for this summer. I'm very excited and appreciative -- and, of course, thinking about many of the people I've been writing about having stayed or worked there. What a great place. There's an image of Diane Arbus terrorizing Germaine Greer, snapping a fearsome photo that Greer hated. There's Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison; there's Valerie Solanas lurking in the lobby on the day she shot Andy Warhol; there's Edie Sedgwick; Jack Kerouac; and hundreds of others. Quite a vibe to work in. Global warming notwithstanding, I can't wait!

Finally, William S. Burroughs, another denizen of the Chelsea, heaps on the scorn with "A Thanksgiving Prayer." Though wicked, this short text applies now more than ever. Here's a link: www.inter-zone.org/thanks.html

Adieu for now . . . . .