Thursday, December 18, 2008

Lou Reed Reading last night in NYC and this is what I have to say....

Lou, please leave the poetry to gutter punk luddites and Hallmark. Seriously, I don't want to go as far as saying you are presently maladapted for the prose.....okay, I'm saying it!!!! Stay off the verse. You've done it, those who have brains paid attention and are passing on their records to the young ones. I was way to old and cynical to be there. Last night I endured what was my first and probably last poetry reading I will ever attend for the rest of my days. Lou Reed read from his new exhaustive book, weighing in at 1.1 lbs, full of every lyric the man has written. He read a bit, answered questions such as "what is cool?" and "what's your favorite modern R&B?", sighed, then read a bit more. Some bullshit hipster in the audience with his "Alice's Restaurant" hat and comic irony mustache (A.E., thx) felt the need to make Lou regret asking the audience to answer a question. This dipshit took this moment to yell out his thoughts to ol' Lou, bypassing query at hand and ignoring all the folks who followed the rules by writing their thought down on paper and placing it in a fish bowl to be approved by the moderator. I wanted to truly kick this kid in the teeth. Anxiety set in and I knew, if I moved towards the exit, everyone standing behind me would curse my rested tush and lust for the wooden chair I abandoned. It was standing room only and I was in the thirdish row to the right of the stage. The man is a legend, I am well aware of his historical significance. He is one to respect, and, one to stop listening to after you turn 18-20 years old. Please, do not put his record on unless you are alone, it has some serious personal significance you want to attempt to share, or if you are writing some research paper. For seriousness. He looked banging, very healthy. He oozes cool. Perpetual ooze, a pool of insatiably cool ooze from his pores no band aid can hold back. That description kinda made me nauseous. I felt honored to see with mine own eyes someone who lived through the factory years, Warhol, heavy drug use, and not be a vegetable. It's a feat, no doubt. Now I knew I could actually push that ol' envelope a little harder and deeper. If Lou is breathing, my heart will stay beating. jokes. The two Dudes sitting in front of me, definitely two dudes from the same dude cloth, felt badass just being there. You could tell if you paid attention or have a lack thereof such as myself. One had an incredibly distinct balding hairline and the other wore a tattered red bandana to probably cover his Daddy Warbucks crown. Lou delivered a line about having a "one night fuck" and, of course, the Dudes nodded in accordance that a passing screw by the Hudson in the wee hours of the morning would rock their world, or, 'they've been there'. I honestly doubt they've been there. Unless they paid for it. Even then and if, they missed the whole point of what the words were about. One of the Duderstein's got up and helped himself to an Old Hollywood Celebrity photography book for sale during the reading!! This guy needs to remove himself from my view. Take Arlo Guthrie with you, douchebag. I'm not saying I dawdled my time away. One can learn something from anything, and, as anyone knows, I am up for ANYTHING! I'll try anything twice. maybe. So, I did. So what if I wanted to disappear when Mr. Reed began his rewritten version of The Raven by Poe. I cannot help it. Made me wonder if his next choice would be a Macbeth or Bukowski rework. I must be an awful person. The closing words did come and chairs were moved out of the way. My body began to move, not to the exit, but, to the front. Did I want to meet him? My body did. He still made me feel okay, like he did when I was a young Candace. He still let me know that things were gonna be alright, and, I sincerely wanted to thank him. The line of people waiting for an autograph was entirely too long. I did not need to tangibly know that I was there. I would not forget being there. If I did, I could read this ridiculousness I'm writing now.

Gotta go, laundry day.

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