flashbacks

Flashback: Article on National Glamour Archives in Washington City Paper

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That time my article on pin up painting collector Art Amsie’s National Glamour Archives appeared in Washington City Paper (February 16, 2001). The “archives” was an informal room in Amsie’s condo with a brag wall of oil paintings by many of the major figures of vintage pin up art. Think Gil Elvgren, Alberto Vargas, Joyce Ballantyne. The kind of stuff you see in calendars and coffee table books. Amsie had another claim to fame in that he had been an amateur club photographer who snapped shots of Bettie Page. Rather good shots, actually. Amsie passed away in 2006; I don’t know where his collection resides today. You can read the full article here.

Flashback: Article on Anarchist women’s collective published in Washington City Paper

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That time Washington City Paper published my article on Tute Nere, a DC-area anarchist women’s collective. You can read the full text here.

Somehow I learned that Tute Nere was publishing their own fanzine to promote women’s participation in radical anarchist activity in the area. That was the hook I needed to get City Paper to accept a short piece on the group, a part of my effort to document the more unusual underground activity in the region.

Flashback: Article on poet Buck Downs in Washington City Paper

city paper - buck downs That time my article on DC poet Buck Downs and his poetry postcard project appeared in Washington City Paper (June 26, 1998). You can read the full article here.

Buck has a distinctive style of gnomic, fragmented poems that hint at deeper mysteries and insights. Third party presses (Edge Books, Furniture Press) have brought out collections of his work, and he has self published chapbooks, on-demand books, and his postcards. I still get poems on postcards from Buck, always a great read.

At the time, I was still trying to establish myself as a freelance writer, and I was frustrated by the lack of coverage for really cool stuff going on around town. This was a window of opportunity, of course, and this article on Buck’s postcards was one of several pieces I managed to place in the weekly alternative rag. The editors typically shoved these pieces off in the “Artifacts” section, with word counts not exceeding 500 words. Nonetheless, these little articles served as some form of documentation that interesting stuff actually happened in DC.

Flashback: “Rusty Love” wins Fourth Place in World of Poetry contest

That time my poem “Rusty Love” won Fourth Place in the World of Poetry contest. When I wrote this one, I deliberately tailored it for what I perceived WoP would like: something rhymed and sentimental. The title was cribbed directly from the name of an actual person–the property manager of the apartment complex where I lived in Winter Park, Florida. If I’m not mistaken, the real Rusty Love was retired, like most of my neighbors there, but she seemed pretty cool, driving a convertible and wearing youthful looking clothes. Her evocative name suggested the outrageous conceit that leads off the poem: “My love is like a rusty nail.”

Here is the whole piece in all its horrible glory:

Rusty Love

My love is like a rusty nail:
It is old but will not fail.
Tender is the tree, and I am wet;
Rain falls on me, but I won’t weaken yet;
We’ve years to go, and miles, more miles,
than can be counted on the branches of its head.
Quiet times, and times that break a smile;
Animal times, and times of flying fowl.
Quickening times, hears and times that part meanwhile.
I never doubt my love’s location;
She is in me, and I am her vocation.

As you can see, the opening analogy leads to an even weirder one, ad it spirals our of control for a while. I have no illusions about this award, either. Given World of Poetry’s modus operandi, I was probably one of about a thousand (or even more) “fourth place” winners.

This article has been delayed for months because I couldn’t track down a copy of “Rusty Love.” Finally, while going through a box of old postcards, photos, and junk, I found an index card with a pencil draft. It’s possible that I revised the piece when I typed it; the middle section, where there is no rhyme for “head” or “fowl” seems like something I might have fixed. Or I may have decided it was “good enough” for the purpose of competing in a World of Poetry poetry contest.

Flashback: Christmas poetry jam at 15 Minutes club

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That time I read at the Christmas Poetry Jam at 15 Minutes club in DC on December 27, 1993. Looks like Silvanna Straw, Edgar Silex, and John Potash were also featured readers. And some guy named “Jeff Bogato,” which is actually me when people can’t spell my last name. Then there was an open mike, poetry games and a special guest. Of course, I don’t remember any of this, so it’s a good thing I saved these Washington City Paper advertisements.

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Flashback: poetry reading at some DC loft party

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Nothing kills a party mood like a poetry reading. That’s the main takeaway lesson for me after agreeing to read some of my work as part of a loft party in DC in 1993. The organizer (and loft owner) named Judy saw my featured reading at 15 Minutes Club on August 9 and asked me to come by her event a few days later on August 13, which she was calling Plaid.

The place was packed with revelers enjoying the rarity of an actual loft party in DC. A band calling itself Blue Teal Tory was cranking away at the tunes. I remember my friend Alberto Gaitan was playing keyboards, and he set me up with the microphone. Somebody (maybe me?) yelled over the crowd, and the voices slowly died down. At that point, the poetry went over a cliff like a bus full of concrete.

As soon as I shut up, the nattering resumed full force. Some guy buttonholed me to talk about Ezra Pound, convinced I was influenced by him. Or something. I actually know very little about Pound, and care even less. He’s not an influence on any of my work. But being ignored and misinterpreted are some of the penalties of taking one’s creative efforts into the public sphere.

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Flashback: Poetry reading at 15 Minutes

That time I had my fifteen minutes of fame as a featured reader at the 15 Minutes nightclub’s poetry night on August 6, 1993. Looks like Husain Naqvi was also on the bill, and then an open mike, all for $3. This event is totally lost in time. I don’t even remember if I got any of the door money; it most likely went to support the DC Slam Team.

You can see by the poster that even in August, there was a weekly reading schedule. Even Reston, VA punmaster Dean Blehert had a shot!

Flashback: Populous Pudding poetry reading, 1989

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That time I did a group reading at Populous Pudding in Willimantic, CT. I don’t remember this event very well. Judging by a letter I got back then from Charlie Krich (who organized poetry events at the space), he invited me to do an earlier reading on November 4, 1988. I only recall one reading I did there when people laughed at a line in one of my poems about “frying bologna.” But I don’t know which show that was.

Populous Pudding was a short lived DIY space that hosted art shows, poetry readings, and punk concerts. The music took place in the back of the space, said to be an old fur vault. It had a serious metal door on it with a wheel crank, like something you’d see in a bank. I saw some of the best shows there: Laughing Hyenas, Crystalized Movements, Fire Party, Fidelity Jones, Woodchipper and Bimbo Shrineheads. Since I was actually in grad school at UConn in neighboring Storrs, I didn’t get over there as much as I would have liked to.

Flashback: One poem in Shattered Wig Review

That time I (finally) got a poem published in Baltimore’s Shattered Wig Review, a journal based out of Normal’s Bookstore (at the time), landing in Issue #17. “Folie a Deux” was one of my best pieces, IMHO. The whole issue is over the top with collages, pieces by Blaster Al Ackerman (fiction and art, plus photos of the man himself!), Batworth, Mok Hosfeld, John Bennett, and editor Rupert Wondolowski, as well as “Pretty Beaver” cartoons by my friends Mary Knott and Beppi, among lots of other wild stuff. No date on the rag, but this was definitely circa 1996.

Flashback: Golden Poet Award 1991

I found this “beautiful certificate” in a folder filled with miscellaneous literary correspondence. World of Poetry ran many contests, and anyone who entered would get one of these mass printed forms. I’m not sure it inspired me to “new poetical heights,” but I did write a subversively sentimental poem for one of their contests.

Back in the 90’s, it seemed rather amusing to send stuff to them. Once I got an Honorary Mention Award, but haven’t found that yet. The company made money by compiling huge books filled with sentimental poetry and selling them to the Golden Poets who “contributed.” I could have ordered the “brass and walnut Golden Poet Plaque” mentioned below, but I never did that either. So I have nothing to “celebrate my greatness.”

Judging by a quick Internet search, World of Poetry no longer exists. That would seem to leave a huge vacancy for an organization to boost poetic egos while fleecing them of their money. I wonder what happened to Edde-Lou Cole and her poetry mission?

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misadventures in self-publishing