Wilco – Country Disappeared – A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

People are as creepy and perverted and weird as they’ve ever been — it’s human nature. The only difference between now and, say, 1956, is the dissemination of information. Which is to say our times are no more depraved or sick or twisted than any other time in history — it’s just that CNN wasn’t around to broadcast it 24/7; in fact, I think we have it all pretty good, for the most part. Sure the economy sucks, and there’s no cure for HIV or cancer, and the Earth is getting warmer and over-populated, but I’ll certainly take living in The Present over The Past.

Marketing to Men is my contribution to Bagazine #4, and it conveys my thoughts about just that — our creepy, pervy past.

There’s eight ads from the back of various mens’ magazines (all mid-century), and they’re hawking everything from fake cop badges to cheap firearms to porn to vanity products. My favs are the how-tos: how to make one-way mirrors and listening devices that take “ordinary materials” and turn them into a “Super Directional Mike [sic] that amplifies sound 1000 times. YES, YOU CAN ACTUALLY HEAR CONVERSATIONS THRU WALLS A BLOCK AWAY.”

There’s a guide to street fighting, and if you’re a “Man & Wife team with a camera”, you could “earn the kind of money you have always dreamed of.”

The first forays into amateur porn?

Who knows — but if you sent a buck to “Artek” in Hollywood, CA, I think you might have been surprised at whatever advice they offered.

Or not.

100 copies signed and numbered, gocco print and a good, old-fashioned hand stamp for title and colophon (am I contradicting myself?); 3 proofs marked “A/P”; concertina fold.

Allan Milkerit and I would walk around that very neighborhood during lunch break from Tall Stories. Tall Stories was the book co-op we both worked; a woman named Donna rented shelf space to anyone who wanted to sell their stock. It was a great atmosphere, and I learned a lot from Allen..but I’ve written about that already. My friend Joe, who joined Tall Stories right before its demise (and then started Valhalla Books with Allan) just sent me this David Streitfeld’s blog about Allan’s books. It’s a blog selling Allan’s books (well, not all of them) as well as describing Allan — both as a person and a bookseller. Which is probably a redundant way to describe it all. It’s a great read, so I’ll just leave it at that.

I’m home for the holidays, and I didn’t stray too far. I shoulda spent some time with my pal Mike from Big Dog Press, or Dale Dauten, or a few of my high school buddies; instead I stayed at my folks and spent time with them…and my little brother and his family, and my sister with hers. Although I did go to see my old friend Michele; she’s a long-time friend and a fellow reader and an ex-jock and now she legislates. We spent an hour or so wandering around Changing Hands, pointing out books to one another, and talking about what we have read, should have read, will someday read, or will never read. We both came to the same conclusion: if it doesn’t hold our attention out of the blocks, it gets shelved.

When the guys from Digital Leather asked me about making a video of “Hurts So Bad” I was hesitant.

I was hesitant for two reasons: what if I didn’t like the song? Can I actually make a music video?

I agreed…but hesitantly.

When I heard the song, I decided almost at once I loved it, which wiped away the first fear. And even now, when it’s done and in the can, I’m still not so sure about my second one. I loved the record, too.

Oh — Pitchfork seemed to like it too…just not as much as I did.

I met Steve once, and wrote to him a couple times. He lived in a small house right on the beach at Holister Street in Santa Monica. I was in Los Angeles to hear Ginsberg read at McCabes; it was the 30th of March, 1991, and I know that because I showed up at Richmond’s house — unannounced — right before I went to the reading. Later that night, Ginsberg was nice enough to inscribe a copy of Photographs to me and date it.

Steve’s house was the closest to the beach. He’d been living there since the mid-60’s (that I know of) right after dropping out of law school to become a poet.

Imagine telling your folks you’re dropping out of law school to be a poet.

And showing up at a poet’s door to say hello and ask for some books to be signed is something I’d never do today, but I was a young, overzealous book nut, and I liked Steve’s work enough to do such a silly thing. He barely opened the door…and it was just enough to lean into it and tell me to leave.

I can’t blame him, really.

I don’t blame him.

The picture above, from left to right: Ben Pleasants, Charles Bukowski, and Steve Richmond.