a start in some fashion of something on a Tuesday in May
SOON ENOUGH
But the thing that both Bellow and
Garrett has: each of them was interested
in writing about “real” people… of course they made up “characters” and all the
rest of it... but as Ginsberg dreamed of Kerouac’s books being published in
heaven... for then, a moment, a more plausible place though the accident of
being published by a so-called real publisher was actually Kerouac’s death
warrant and it was only time before he would bleed to death in a Florida
hospital…. like a friend of mine, Charlie Conklin sitting on a chair with a
towel filling up with blood wrapped around his crotch, outside Foley’s, over
there in the West Village, thanks to the kindness of the bar owner who provided
the chair as he didn’t want Charlie to die in his bar since the cops would shut
the place for weeks… a dead guy is never good for business…
So I turn to this question: does
Europe exist?