If I had a podcast, my dream guests would be…

John Paul Drum, (KC bluesman of note), David Basse, (KC’s jazz ambassador), the KC Graffiti guy, owner of Prospero’s Books, Corbin the sculptor, Tim Hamill, (storyteller, bon vivant), Dick Jobe, (KC’s most creative metal shopmeister), Roz Morris, (author, ghostwriter), Jeff Bremser, (KC legend adman), Wick Beavers, (NYC photographer/musician), Lois Lambert gallerist (CA), Nate Hofer (KC artist, musician), Skip Quimby, (KC legend adguy), Dick Hackenberg (San Francisco marketing consultant who saved my bacon out in L.A.), George Lois, (Legendary creative legend x 12, Einstein class), Pat Metheny, (Jazz fusion) and on and on.

 There would be no shortage of people to ask, perhaps you? Steve? Recently voted Best IT guy in the midwest? Beth, swimming with sharks, Connee’s punk adventures, Cindy’s Stagecoach Inn days. But there might be a deficit of those accepting. The initial days of a podcast could be a bit…rocky. But I’m kind of stuck in place and antsy to do something, and a short podcast (7 minutes) seems inviting. Intro, talk talk talk outro. Oversimplification, of course.

 Just a thought. Would you be interested in listening, or being a guest? Everyone has great stories. Leave a comment if it bubbles your curiosity.

Or make paper airplanes instead.

Here’s a bit of a shudder. The walking and walker--wounded home that I just escaped from had a bronze sculpture out front; Gary Price’s kid surfing on a paper airplane. It’s an edition of the same bronze sculpture we have at Wise Acres. (link) Hopefully it means freedom of a sort that I’m working toward: ambulatory independence. Or a darker turn of thought could put the kid surfer in a Citizen Kane’s youth-recalling “Rosebud” sled category. (link) Then, I’m no Citizen Kane, not even close. (But was he happy? Heck yeah; he could buy and sell most of California! That would make me happy.) (I‘d selI. And throw in Kansas with their sudden money-grubbing higher property tax boondoggle.)

 Anyway, I say huzzah (I can say that; I’m a writer) to paper airplanes and the freedom of mind and spirit they exemplify. And here’s a whole Smithsonian collection of them! (link) (wow—author note).

Music to watch eclipses by…(link)

 Brad Mehldau’s “Highway Rider,” (Nonesuch Music) the aligned spheres, and maybe a Diet Coke. Phenomenal. Cosmic. Oh, and a poem I wrote a couple of books ago to commemorate just such an eclipse at Wise Acres that some horses and I observed. It was a much anticipated occasion and I was ready with official eye protection that Freddie had gotten me.

I will say it was a sobering and quietly awesome few minutes that Annie Dillard describes as “The sky was navy blue. My hands were silver. All the distant hills’ grasses were fine-spun metal which the wind laid down. I was watching a faded color print of a movie filmed in the Middle Ages; I was standing in it, by some mistake. I was standing in a movie of hillside grasses filmed in the Middle Ages. I missed my own century, the people I knew, and the real light of day.”

So, yes, if you’re near the path of such a sun/moon line-up, go to it, observe, remember, be a pilgrim for a short duration, drop all pretense of whatever we humans cloak ourselves in and just soak it up. It’s an odd sort of joy worth experiencing—a bit different for everyone I would think. I probably wouldn’t drive 500 miles and make motel reservations in some far off burg for it, but many have.

OK, I’m about done for now.

But before I go, here’s a short introduction by Tigran Hamasyan to Nonesuch records, (link) jazz and classical label worth glomming onto as they battle the big brands groove for groove, to keep beauty front and center. You won’t go wrong with Nonesuch, true lovers and purveyors of fine music. Have a great day, week, eclipse, listen, whatever you’re up to. xoxo G

(PS: for those of you who have asked. Phys and occu therapy say I’ll be going from walker to cane soon—then from cane to…walking. Yayyy. I got stuff to do yet.)

 

 

When life happens. Also, a very cool assessment of AI writing by a super writer; the chilling final acts of Hunter Thompson; “Critterland” will make you laugh (and reflect); and much more.

I’m Guinotte Wise and this is my WTF moment

Not me—it’s James Joyce’s death mask which I found, looking for a certain Irish author for the AI article below, and it spoke to me. It said, “Read Ulysses.”

Pardon my language. I am writing this from a hospital bed in a rehab facility. Broken hip. I was moved here from a modern medical trauma center after a week. It’s in an older section of town; big, once-stately homes with smaller old tract houses squeezed in between them on land that used to separate the bigger, older homes.

 And there are birds. Inside. Red-beaked little birds, four or five, with perches and places to hang out. They’re in a glass and wood cased affair about ten feet wide, six feet high and three feet deep. I don’t know what to think about that, as I regard zoos as animal jails, but these birds seem reasonably perky and active. Probably a metaphor here but I’m too drug-befuddled to pursue it.

 I won’t dwell overlong on this hip deal; slam, bam, move on. It happened after a successful delivery of sculpture to a show (if you’re around Kansas City, it’s at Tomahawk Ridge Community Center, 119th & Lowell, Overland Park, KS—it’ll be there until April 15th) at my home. I was outside, no phone, the dogs wanted to help but finally lay down near me and waited. After an hour, I was discovered. The dogs helped attract a couple from a neighboring mill by barking incessantly. Cash and Millie don’t usually bark at them and that got their attention.

 Then it was EMTs. Gurney. Maybe a shot. Swaying around in traffic. Post-op. Morphine nights. Onward. I’m G. Wise and this is my WTF moment.

 

  High time for “Critterland” and a lighter mood? Not promising…

 This is now my official farm & home, Wise Acres anthem. (link) Love this Carlisle guy. The album’s title song isn’t quite as offhand or toss-away as one might think from a casual first listen; messages lurk here. Willi Carlisle is a country/folk poet for real, with eerie touches of John Prine and Ralph Stanley, Ozark hill country and dust bowl echoes. Another great album from a stone original. I chanced upon him BC (Before Critterland) with“Tulsa’s Last Magician”. Plaintive, resigned, and worth a listen; something about it impales me. Posssibly engendered by my Tulsa boyhood in that postwar boomtown. And on “What The Rocks Don’t Know” he sings, plays harmonica and…bones. All the while doing a sort of sitting flat dance. You need to see and hear this—could cause goose-skin. (link) Mesmerizing. Willi is one quietly powerful talent and I’m a fan. A Carlislist. Carlislie?.

 

AI Can’t Weld

 But many think it can write. How can it? It has no life experience. No essence. Just an algorithmic soup of a bunch of writers and it shows. It will always show. As to the headline, maybe AI will weld, but without life experience it can only copy what has been done before. Robotic welding is a staple, and it’s quite good. But art welding is inimitable to the artist and only a tool that s/he uses to stick things together. And I’m so far behind the AI dustup, I’m commenting on something I know too little about. (Surprise, surprise.)

I saw this statement weeks ago and it really stuck with me, but when I looked for it, it had disappeared. I remembered it was a highly accomplished Irish author (there are plenty of those) and while exploring that rabbit warren, I came across James Joyce’s death mask shown above, in the first article. Finally, after some digging I found the pithy statement at Sean McNulty’s Auraist (I subscribe to the Substack free version). McNulty is an accomplished writer himself and his Auraist reviews the best recent UK and US books in some depth.

I urge you to read the very substantive Doyle interview in Auraist (link) and, perhaps, subscribe. It’s well worth your time. There’s a point where Doyle shows a Martin Amis quip and how AI could never, ever compete.

Doyle’s 2014 novel, Here Are The Young Men (Bloomsbury) was selected as one of Hot Press magazine’s ‘20 Greatest Irish Novels 1916-2016’, and has been made into a film. His latest, Threshold, (also Bloomsbury) was published in 2020.

Me, I’m off to a favorite online bookstore to check out his books.

Gonzo, not forgotten

An artifact from his nearly successful run for sheriff of Pitkin County (Aspen, CO) in a year I remember well…

He was suffering toward the end, from pain, depression, ennui they say. Physical discomfort from various operations. There was the suicidal, if not downright suicide note, days before, titled “Football Season Is Over.” Some said his whole life was hurtling toward this moment; he, himself said, ”Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!” And he frequently expressed gratitude that there was a way out anytime he felt the need. He’d given it thought. Here are a few words from FAR OUT about Hunter Thompson’s final ones. (link)

Back to the future…an electrified icon.

I never had one of these, being more of the noisy V8 jalopy persuasion, but fondness for the era includes these kitchen clock-colored VW breadboxes on spools. The complaints ran from underpowered to unheatable in winter, to rusting out in a light mist and unreliable whatever the season. They were popular in a certain segment and sported love beads hanging from the mirror, PEACE bumper stickers, and flower decals. But it’s back and it’s electric. Take a look at how an outfit named Kindred (link) has pulled this into the 21st century. But I have a feeling it’ll cost ya.

 And that’s about it for this blog edition other than the following plugs. 1. My new poetry book is out. (link) 2. My sculpture show is at Tomahawk Ridge Community Center, 119th & Lowell, Overland Park, Kansas, through April 15, for those of you in the area. XXO GW

45 pieces, including photography, “lit” sculptures, poetry, and more. Title RUST&CHROME&LIGHTS&POEMS. Through April 15th

Book Store Dreams, No New Year’s Involutions, Pat Metheny and Third Wind, John Vachon’s Chicago Streets, The Holdovers, “Take Fountain,” The Hotspot Soundtrack, Some Great Retro Art, Other Stuff…

The striking record cover art above is by Mishka Westell, and you’ll see more here (link).

“Making things is how we learn…” Milton Glaser

The 60’s—a time of heady change, new music and cool posters. I still have some on my walls. Today, Westell captures that zeitgeist with her stunning record cover art, and reawakens a fondness for the look that defined an era. Pushpin Studios was spawned back then and their exciting graphics by names like Milton Glaser and Seymour Chwast have not been equaled since. It was a fun time to be an art director in advertising and these heavyweights influenced a lot of the work we did in the 60’s. I’m happy to see the DNA resurface in younger illustrators’ and designers’ work.

Milton Glaser passed away in 2020 at age 91, June 26 (his birthday was June 26, coincidentally, the Bronx, New York) and this quick interview will show some of his spirit, essence and work. I’m proud to say we had him speak at the Kansas City Art Directors Club when I was president. And he came back to judge some of our awards competition. He was a welcome presence.

I’d still like to open a bookstore in Paola, Kansas

We thought about it maybe 20 years ago and did some rudimentary feasibility studies which equated it to manned flights to Venus. We found a very oddly shaped lot (still for sale—maybe 30 ft. wide, 100 ft. deep) and thought, hey, we could always build upward. Paola’s only skyscraper. Here’s a poem about it, which is in “The Taste of Red-Orange” (out soon, and cheap—buy several for gifts!)

So that and about 100 other poems are in “The Taste of Red-Orange.” If I had a bookstore I would have a stack of these next to the cash register, and I would give readings to the rapt pups, Cash and Millie, who would get treats for listening. The cats might listen for treats, might not.

In lieu of a bookstore, I’ll let you (and the world) know when and where you can pick up your copies, when I know.

I’m guessing Amazon, or Shakespeare and Company in Paris. One of those, anyway. The cat doesn’t care.

John Vachon’s Chicago Streets

His name is up there among the Walker Evanses, the Dorothea Langes, the major lights of the second world war years that dot the pantheon of shooters who showed us that we weren’t really looking. When he turned up in Chicago, he took a messenger job with a government agency even though his major was English Lit. Then he got a camera. Then he became THE John Vachon. Here are some Chicago pix on the way. (Yes, and another poem from The Taste of Red-Orange, this one about these guys, the shootists, the lens-meisters.)

And now, the odds and ends…

…or more of them, but some pretty good ones, like Pat Metheny in Japan with several thousand of his closest friends and fans, here’s that link, and a pretty good listen. It’s called Third Wind. He’s from Lee’s Summit, MO, (Kansas City) and he does us proud. I like his album “As Falls Wichita, So Falls Wichita Falls.”

And Bette Davis, when asked what was the best way for an aspiring actress to get into Hollywood, she replied, “Take Fountain…” I took Fountain a few times. It was pre-GPS and as a newbie I had a large, worn map of L.A. unfolded on the passenger seat at the ready. Try reading that before your 405 turnoff. Then it all became easier and I didn’t need it anymore. But I still have it. All folded up correctly.

I read somewhere The Holdovers was simply the best movie hands down, so I pass that along with this link, just in case it’s true. I’m watching Oppenheimer now. They mumble a lot.

The Hot Spot might be pretty good, too…here’s a review and here’s the soundtrack. The film has Don Johnson in a Mitchum-like sleaze role; some say it’s his best ever.

And, with that I take my leave, bye bye 2023, we probably won’t miss ya. I wish you all no New Years’ Involutions (complications) and take resolutions with a big fat grain of salt.

Enduro (Latin for Keep On Truckin’), Going Over the Horizon, JellyRoll, Tent Preachers vs. Ted Talks, Passion, A Punk Giveaway, Two Books I Recommend and One I Don’t, and a whole lot more.

To all who read this…blog, or ramble, whatever it is: I sure hope there’s something (or some things) of interest here for you. I see the metrics rise monthly when it goes out to you, and think, hey great, the whole readership is checking in. The least I can do is give you something of value among the rambling for your trouble. I love writing it, I love writing, period. Love/hate, you know. It’s not like a water tap, turn it on. But I’ll keep doing it until it’s dry. Onward.

Enduro reminds me of motorcycle racing, a lot of it airborne, but it also means perseverance (in Latin). And I saw something enduro-related the other night while watching the CMA awards that got my attention; Jelly Roll's award for new entertainer of the year.

Talk about presence, Jelly Roll is it…and he’s preaching the gospel of KEEP ON TRUCKIN’!

He’s a large, passionate fellow and he addressed his win with the fiery gusto of a revival tent preacher. Take a look here at his unprepared speech about perseverance. Whew. I’m a big fan of well-placed passion and this man just doesn’t hold back. I remember thinking that some ironic, amusing TED speakers could use a touch of this. And it also brought to mind the tent preacher scene in True Detective #1 which was absolutely mesmerizing; this is just the teaser as they (X and YouTube) took down the whole scene, but it’ll give you a taste. I’m looking forward to True Detective #4 with Jody Foster, set in Alaska, coming in January. Nic Pizzolatto writer of all the TDs is a genius.

Books!

In this tattered globe’s current state, diversion is called for, and here are a couple of pop-culturish offerings I swear by and laugh with. The first dovetails with the enduro theme, Keep Going by Austin Kleon. This wise kid is less than half my age, yet I take his advice freely and often. This is his best book and I keep it handy to open at random and clear my head with a page or two. I recommend this lively collection of affirmations to…anyone. And The Fran Lebowitz Reader is full up with her own brand of wonderful advice. In Tips for Teens, she says, “Stand firm in your refusal to remain conscious during algebra. In real life, I assure you, there is no such thing as algebra.” Sage. Again, I recommend it for all.

November’s No-strings Free Giveaway

It’s a  gently used, freshly laundered (size large) t-shirt from EXIT, a head-banger outfit in Chicago which may or may not still be in business. A classic, either way. You might get twenty bucks for it on ebay. You might wear it to your next class reunion or to a holiday party. How you get it: be the first to comment below with your email address and I’ll contact you for your mailing address, stuff it in a softpak and ship it to you free of charge. Make your day, punk? Heads up; there will be a free…thing offered every month. If you look closely, that skull has a gold tooth. Neato.

A Few Words About Maui

Above is a before and after of the old Seamen’s historic hospital—note huge anchor to the left. We rented the bottom floor and the top was occupied by the architects who restored it. The “we” referred to, was a small ad agency that serviced some retail accounts on the island and a Westin hotel on the big island. We flew cheap standby on MidPac with work to deliver there and always caught a flight. The ocean view from this place was unobstructed back then (80’s) and we would have meetings in the front yard on chaise longues. With refreshments. Those days, man.

The structure is one of few in Lahaina still standing, but probably not for long. If you saw the Nov.19th 60 Minutes you saw the heroic Maui Fire Department, the hero who saved them, and the aftermath of what they were caught in, trying to slow the firestorm. If you can help, Maui has a long way to go; google aid to Maui and you’ll find ways. The Salvation Army, for one. The survivors are homeless. And buzzards circle, trying to buy their land.

Whoops, Outa Time

The front of my truck…enduro!

I had (much much) more, but no time left—I’ve got a Stage 32 class on preparing a pilot, in less than an hour—and no time tonight either as it’s Chiefs vs. Eagles* on Monday Night Football. After a bye week, I miss Taylor Swift’s boyfriend and that quarterback, too. I’ll leave you with yet another Bo Diddley youtube, this one about how he recorded his first big hit. Pay no attention to the really dopey titles someone stuck on the visuals, and some of the visuals themselves. Just turn the sucker up, close your eyes and lean way into it. Have a great super cyber black whatever (Thanksgiving) and I’ll get started earlier in December. Keep on truckin’ and xxo G

*That didn’t go well. But we’ll play them again.

Believing is seeing, capturing a favorite tree, eighth book is at the publisher, parts is parts, bucking bull of the year is a big softie, the Fermi paradox, the Banyan lives, and mucho mas.

“Sapiens might just be a misnomer…”

I wrote the last couple of blogs as a time-passing exercise. Fortunately I like doing it. I had stuff to share, questions to ask, but when I pressed the mailchimp button for the next day’s delivery to you, nothing happened. The next day or any other. The chimp sat on his furry leathery paws. (Do chimps have opposing thumbs? We homo sapiens think we’re pretty big deals because we do. We can take a perfectly fine planet and in a few hundred years ruin the sucker—that’s how impressive we and our opposing thumbs [and views] are.) Pardon the digression. Anyway it took a smart guy in Redondo Beach to nudge the chimp (Thanks, Ben!) and get this blog into your mailbox. He took time off a major automotive account to get the monkey motivated. (PS bold type is either a headline or a link)

Books!

This time it’s all about photography. I’m protecting my amateur status and trying to learn new things. I got a nice EOS (Electro-Optical System) Canon DSLR (Digital Single Lens Reflex) T7 for my birthday. It’s quite a nice camera and I learn a little more about it each time I use it.

I used to shoot a 35mm camera in the 60’s using Tri-X Pan film for grainy effects at low light. I put together psychedelic slides in 35mm format using Elmer’s Glue (which dried clear) and Dr. Martin’s brilliant concentrated dyes, ground-up crystals, all kinds of experimental things; projected them on large surfaces to the delight of a certain culture (“Far out, mannnn…”) and myself.

SEE/SAW, (Geoff Dyer), Reading American Photography, Matthew Brady to Walker Evans, (Alan Trachtenburg), 3 Fields of Vision books; Marion Post Wolcott, Arthur Rothstein, and Ben Shahn, and an In Focus book on Weegee, the controversial crime photographer.

Believing is Seeing is the last one on the right. Great title, that, but not my favorite—too polemical for my taste. I mean a great photo is a great photo whether the photo journalist put the battered Mickey Mouse toy in the bombed rubble or not. The visual statement is compelling. By Errol Morris. The Focus and Field books are great because they are mostly photos.

And any book on photography (or anything else) by Geoff Dyer is as entertaining as it is informative and SEE/SAW is no exception.

Above is a tree I sort of love, and see on my walks a lot. I’ve shot it with an iPhone but never to any satisfaction. Finally I shot it with my new Canon and a great telephoto lens and got just what I wanted. As of a few minutes ago, I have walked 22,386,704 steps, by the way. You see a lot of stuff at 22 million steps.

 Like this shed, to the right. Another subject I couldn’t quite get with the iPhone. The Canon and the right lens made all the difference. Thanks, Freddie, for the generous and fun gift. Now I’ve got to learn all the interrelated ways to shoot subjects. I’ve been lucky but now I’ve got to do some dial twisting and aperture rates like the big boys and girls do it. I’ll learn.

Another book. This one’s mine, my eighth, The Taste of Red-Orange, poetry. I shot the stuff with an iPhone. It’s at the publisher now and may be out yet in 2023. I did the design, layout, photography etc—Sara Pence did the finished art. I ate the popsicles off the sticks.

Parts is Parts

This will be a sculpture. It has to do with cops, Kansas City, a long poem, 1955, a 1949 Ford, me, Tennessee Ernie Ford, and other stuff. All will be revealed at a show in Overland Park in 2024 and this will be just one of the 20 or so pieces in that show. This one will be about six feet tall. Taller than me. Even the clarinet makes sense. Remember that unusual sound in “Sixteen Tons?”

The Latest on the Phony Basquiats

This one’s real but would you or the FBI know that? Here’s a link to the latest on the scam…

And in the interest of time, yours, mine, the chimp’s, and the fine fellow in Redondo Beach who helps unsnarl the lines of communication, I will leave you with these links (bold type) you can cruise in your spare time or ignore completely. (1) The promised soft-hearted rodeo bull, fun story. (2) The Fermi Paradox or Are We Alone? (3) Pharoah Sanders—this one’s an hour but is said to have changed lives (in a good way) and makes a delightful jazz background while you’re prepping the evening meal (if you’re one of those cutting board evening meal preppers) (4) Good news on the storied banyan tree of Maui. Happy October to all of you and maybe good news will swamp the bad in the coming months. Until November, friends, my best to you. G

Oh, and this

Speaker of the House announced—it’s an intern named Zach, says “This is gonna be Dope”

(Blog readers comment below)