Sunday, November 30, 2014
Saturday, November 29, 2014
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
RIP: Martha Rose Fitzgerald McKinney Gorham - November 19, 1932 - June 6, 2005
AKA "Sis" … always car-proud back in the fifties; I think this one was a lime-green 1947 Plymouth. And she could be damn funny -- my brother Bernard and I quote her quite often. If, out on the highway, another car overtook her, she was apt to take it personally. "Where the hell does he think he's going in such a hurry?" she'd ask as she haunched herself forward, her forehead just above the steering wheel, put the petal to the metal, and overtook the offender in turn, "to show him that he ain't the only one that's got someplace to git to." And, we thought, just because she considered a highway a speedway with -- who knew? -- some reward known-only-to-her waiting at the end of the road.
And she was wonderful to her "three little brothers" after we'd all lost our dad. If I needed 15-cents so I could buy a root beer float at Denton's Drug Store on Boy Scout meeting night, I knew where I could get it. And she'd be so pleased that she could do these sweet things.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
RIP: Marcel Proust - July 10, 1871 - November 18, 1922
Saturday, November 15, 2014
The Proletariat
I liked this bar. Ellen and I stopped in twice for nightcaps. They specialize in very small batches from all over, but especially from Belgium. But if you're really a proletarian you probably can't afford $6.50 for four ounces of beer. But it was great taste. And the bartender … well, on the first night it was the guy in the foreground of this picture. Then I looked at the guy to his left and I thought … no … he was the guy who told me "Pretty Girl" was a great beer. Now I think they're brothers, maybe twins.
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
RIP: John D. Fitzgerald - Aug. 30, 1934 - Nov. 14, 2000
My brother. Gone way too soon. He and his beautiful wife, Helen, gave me a wonderful batch of four nephews and a niece and now countless great- and great-great nieces and nephews.
Brother, I would have given you some of my years if such a trade-off were possible.
Monday, November 10, 2014
The Day Before Veteran's Day, 2009
The
Day Before Veteran’s Day, 2009
Lately,
I’ve been feeling lonesome;
I
don’t quite know why.
Maybe because it’s
dark when I drive home from work,
and there’s
usually no one to greet me
but
one dog and two cats.
For
most of my life I was all
the
company I needed;
I
coveted quiet.
I
didn’t need a lover; I didn’t need a radio; no teevee.
I
kept my own counsel, I had paper to write on,
and
great books on all kinds of shelves,
but tonight it'd be nice to sit and chat with someone.
I drove downtown
to
return some books to the library.
I
checked out a book of Donald Hall’s poems.
Then
I drove on up Main Street and saw lights on
in
the town’s most run-down restaurant.
I guessed I was hungry. I pulled up out front.
They’ve
made it more of a Sports Bar
since
last I was here;
a
large square of counter and stools are plonked down
smack
dab in the middle of the dining room.
Four
huge TVs are tuned to ESPN.
I
order Alfredo pasta with chicken.
Some
loud-mouthed guy on the far side of the bar
whines
for twenty minutes about the Yankees.
Their
payroll, he says, is a crying shame --
it’s
that Steinbrenner who’s to blame.
On
and on he whines. The World Series
ended
over a week ago.
I
wish he’d get over it!
I
guess he’s one of those die-hard Red Sox fans
whose
hearts have been broken again and again;
but
I don’t want to hear about it.
I’m
trying to read.
Fat
chance they’ll change channels
for
the likes of me. I'd rather watch the news.
I
lowered the flag to half-staff this morning.
The
President attended a memorial at Fort Hood today.
I
was stationed there for four months in fifty-eight.
I
saw Elvis the day after I got there;
he
was coming out of the dental clinic
and,
with a Colonel, got into a white Cadillac.
Next
day he shipped out to Germany.
My
buddies and I, bored in Fort Hood,
killed
rattlesnakes for sport
on
Sunday afternoons in the hot Texas sun.
Life
was empty. I got out of there just in time.
Like Elvis, I shipped out to Germany.
I'm done
with the pasta. It was barely edible. A cup’s worth
of
Alfredo sauce remains in the bowl, thin as milk.
I
pay with my credit card. As I’m heading for the door
I
hear that guy say, “A-Rod makes more in one year
than
the whole Kansas City team makes.
Where’s
the sport in that?”
I
turn toward him; it’s my turn at last,
he’s
been motor-mouthing too much
about
last week's loss.
“Why
don’t you get a fuckin’ life ,” I yell,
and
shut the fuck up?”
Well,
not really. Only in my imagination.
No
way do I have the guts to say any such thing.
I’m
mild-mannered, I’m meek,
and
at my age I’m comparatively weak.
I’d
be filled with apprehension
that
he might punch me
into
the middle of next week.
I
keep my mouth shut, I hurry on out.
Back
on Route Six,
heading
for the sticks of the sticks,
I
turn onto a lonesome Gross Hill Road.
After
a mile I pull into
the
secluded Gull Haven Lane;
even
Dylan’s Desolation Row,
where
I could buy one of those
“postcards
of the hanging”
sounds
like a great place to be.
There’s
certainly
nothing
for the lonely to buy
on
Gull Haven Lane.
Jodie-Dog
is thrilled to see me;
there’s
some wiggles and there’s a prance.
I
rub her haunches, I scratch her ears.
The
cats glance my way and,
unimpressed,
glance askance.
They
have their airs.
I
find my manuscript book,
the one that Donna gave me in Keene.
On
its cover, in elaborate script, is stamped,
“Discover
answers with your pen and a little quiet.”
I’ve
got the quiet down pat,
and
I own a hundred pens.
I
pull a chair up to the table and sit.
I
try to come up with a question
to
see if the book’s cover can answer it;
I’ve
got one: How can anyone give a shit
about
A-Rod and the Yankees
and
a small round white ball?
My
notebook,
like
a poem that doesn’t quite work,
has nothing to say.
It's just another fuckin' piece
of another lousy day.
has nothing to say.
It's just another fuckin' piece
of another lousy day.
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
An Artist in Berlin
The genesis of the a great time I had recently in New York City was an email I received some four and a half years ago, on Monday, March 8th, 2010:
Dear George, I am an artist living in Berlin, Germany, and I am currently working on a book about Cookie Mueller. The book consists of interviews, stories, writings, musings and images all paying testimony to the life and work of Cookie. I have been researching over the past three years and have met with over forty of Cookie's friends including people such as John Waters, Amos Poe, Gary Indiana, Mink Stole, just to name a few. I've spent quite a bit of time in Provincetown and remained in close contact with Sharon Niesp and Max Mueller. I noticed while looking online that you took a fabulous photograph of Cookie at the premiere of Female Trouble and I was curious if you would be interested in contributing any of your work or perhaps your memories of Cookie Mueller. The book I am producing is an homage to Cookie and has an emphasis on visuals as much as text. If you have any questions please feel free to ask. Looking forward to hearing from you. [signed] Chloe
It was exciting that someone -- whoever Chloe might be -- that someone halfway across the world thought enough of Cookie to think she deserved a book devoted to her. Cookie was one of the most unique people I'd ever been around. I lived in Provincetown from 1972 to 1984, and during some of that time Cookie did too, and I was Cookie's friend. That does not make me special -- everyone was Cookie's friend. Everyone who knew her loved Cookie. I wanted the book written already but had to wait.
I told Chloe that I'd be honored to have a picture I'd taken of Cookie in her book. As it turned out, in the process of about fifteen more email exchanges, Chloe ended up using about a dozen photographs I'd taken of Cookie and friends of Cookie.
I could tell just from her several emails that Chloe was a class act. And then, in this past August, after what was surely a tremendous amount of work, she sent me a copy of the book:
Later an invitation came for four events in Manhattan in connection with the launching of Edgewise: A Picture of Cookie Mueller. On the first night, I entered the venue -- The Participant Gallery on Houston Street ... approached Chloe and said, "Hi … I'm George Fitzgerald." I got a warm hug, and person-to-person thanks for the use of my pictures.
She's attractive. You realize right away that you probably just want to hang with her forever. Isn't that what love is? Or was it just a crush? A great big gigantic mammoth super-wide, super-deep, super-high crush. Maybe I just wanted to be her. Seriously … she's lovely, she's cool.
Saturday seemed like a day off from the fun of joining Chloe in the launching of her book. I met two friends at one p.m. at the Whitney Museum for the Jeff Koons exhibition. (Ellen, booted from foot surgery, could not have handled all the walking we'd be doing.) I was interested only in Koons' salacious work involving his Italian girlfriend/wife; only two pictures fit that narrow category so I wandered around five floors of art caring very little about 98% of it. But there were lots of reflecting things so I could take lots of weird pictures, and it was fun hanging out with Scott (short) and Patrick (tall).
OCT. 19th - SUNDAY - "ANOTHER BORING DAY - A NIGHT OF READINGS FROM COOKIE MUELLER'S WRITINGS" -- a return to The Participant Gallery on Houston Street.
Edgewise: A Picture of Cookie Mueller is a great accomplishment. I loved Cookie and you might end up loving Cookie too just from reading this book. You can become the book's friend on Facebook! You can follow it on tour at www.cookiemuellerbook.com. You can order it on Amazon. You can ask Santa to bring it to you. You can do lots of things. But I don't know if you can get a Chloe Griffin kiss on your cheek unless you have the good luck of meeting her and the nerve to ask for one!
Thanks Chloe and Ellen and Dennis and Scott and Patrick!
Dear George, I am an artist living in Berlin, Germany, and I am currently working on a book about Cookie Mueller. The book consists of interviews, stories, writings, musings and images all paying testimony to the life and work of Cookie. I have been researching over the past three years and have met with over forty of Cookie's friends including people such as John Waters, Amos Poe, Gary Indiana, Mink Stole, just to name a few. I've spent quite a bit of time in Provincetown and remained in close contact with Sharon Niesp and Max Mueller. I noticed while looking online that you took a fabulous photograph of Cookie at the premiere of Female Trouble and I was curious if you would be interested in contributing any of your work or perhaps your memories of Cookie Mueller. The book I am producing is an homage to Cookie and has an emphasis on visuals as much as text. If you have any questions please feel free to ask. Looking forward to hearing from you. [signed] Chloe
It was exciting that someone -- whoever Chloe might be -- that someone halfway across the world thought enough of Cookie to think she deserved a book devoted to her. Cookie was one of the most unique people I'd ever been around. I lived in Provincetown from 1972 to 1984, and during some of that time Cookie did too, and I was Cookie's friend. That does not make me special -- everyone was Cookie's friend. Everyone who knew her loved Cookie. I wanted the book written already but had to wait.
I told Chloe that I'd be honored to have a picture I'd taken of Cookie in her book. As it turned out, in the process of about fifteen more email exchanges, Chloe ended up using about a dozen photographs I'd taken of Cookie and friends of Cookie.
I could tell just from her several emails that Chloe was a class act. And then, in this past August, after what was surely a tremendous amount of work, she sent me a copy of the book:
Later an invitation came for four events in Manhattan in connection with the launching of Edgewise: A Picture of Cookie Mueller. On the first night, I entered the venue -- The Participant Gallery on Houston Street ... approached Chloe and said, "Hi … I'm George Fitzgerald." I got a warm hug, and person-to-person thanks for the use of my pictures.
She's attractive. You realize right away that you probably just want to hang with her forever. Isn't that what love is? Or was it just a crush? A great big gigantic mammoth super-wide, super-deep, super-high crush. Maybe I just wanted to be her. Seriously … she's lovely, she's cool.
Chloe in Berlin, biking in high heels just as Cookie did. |
OCT. 15th - OPENING NIGHT: "PICTURES IN THE SMOKE"
OCT. 16th - Thursday: No Credit, Cash Only; Cookie in Film and Video
On the night following the opening party, clips from several movies Cookie appeared in were screened. Many more chairs were set out than had been the night before, but there were still not enough, and the room was jam-packed again. Fortunately, though, the heat had been turned down. The presentation was written and read by Bradford Nordeen, the young man pictured above. He was interesting and clever and funny. He knew Cookie's writing inside-out and he knew her acting inside-out. You can out more of him at www.dirtylooksnyc.org/author/bradford-nordeen ….
OCT. 17th - FRIDAY
On Friday, way over on Tenth Avenue, the Edgewise event was of filmmaker Amos Poe interviewing Chloe. Ellen and I didn't go because we'd been invited to dinner by a friend. This friend made it an absolutely delightful night! His stories are astonishingly entertaining; he's lived a very eventful life, and knows everybody and everything! His apartment is like a museum! Who but he would own, and have nicely framed, the original Sears & Roebuck receipt for the $25.00 down-payment on a freezer sold to a guy named Jeffrey Dahmer? His stories are way way way entertaining.
OCT. 18th - SATURDAY
Saturday seemed like a day off from the fun of joining Chloe in the launching of her book. I met two friends at one p.m. at the Whitney Museum for the Jeff Koons exhibition. (Ellen, booted from foot surgery, could not have handled all the walking we'd be doing.) I was interested only in Koons' salacious work involving his Italian girlfriend/wife; only two pictures fit that narrow category so I wandered around five floors of art caring very little about 98% of it. But there were lots of reflecting things so I could take lots of weird pictures, and it was fun hanging out with Scott (short) and Patrick (tall).
*******
OCT. 19th - SUNDAY - "ANOTHER BORING DAY - A NIGHT OF READINGS FROM COOKIE MUELLER'S WRITINGS" -- a return to The Participant Gallery on Houston Street.
Chloe Griffin |
Richard Hell - After the readings I told him I had seen his punk group Richard Hell and the Voidoids at CBGB in 1977. "Thanks for remembering!" he said. |
Max Mueller reading Cookie's story about giving birth to him. |
Sharon Niesp |
Unidentified |
Max Blagg |
Linda Yablonsky |
*********
And so it went … from an email four and a half years ago to a great time in Manhattan just a couple of weeks ago. All because I posted one of my favorite pictures of Cookie on my blog in 2009 and a cool woman in Berlin came across it.
Edgewise: A Picture of Cookie Mueller is a great accomplishment. I loved Cookie and you might end up loving Cookie too just from reading this book. You can become the book's friend on Facebook! You can follow it on tour at www.cookiemuellerbook.com. You can order it on Amazon. You can ask Santa to bring it to you. You can do lots of things. But I don't know if you can get a Chloe Griffin kiss on your cheek unless you have the good luck of meeting her and the nerve to ask for one!
Thanks Chloe and Ellen and Dennis and Scott and Patrick!
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