Sunday, November 30, 2008

Dave Church, R.I.P.

Last night, while I was staying at my parents' place in Rhode Island, I received news via e-mail that the Rhode Island-poet and my friend Dave Church had passed away at age 61. It has been years since I've spoken to Dave---or corresponded with him through letters, which was our primary line of communication---yet the news hit me hard.

During the years of 2001-2002, I would receive long letters from Dave, typed on his old electric typewriter, and fire letters back zealously. Today, when I returned home to New Hampshire, I went through a box of personal items---poems and stories I've written that never saw a second-draft and many of my old letters from writers, friends, ex-girlfriends, etc. Since the dawn of our technological age, e-mails seem to have made the art of the epistolary form obsolete; and digging up Dave Church's old letters and reading through them this afternoon, soaking up the wisdom, heart and honesty that went into them, it seems to me that this is more than a damn shame.

Maybe some other time I'll write about my experiences visiting Dave in his attic apartment in Providence, the characters and improbable episodes that unfolded, but right now, it doesn't seem right to eulogize him with fancy or funny anecdotes. I can, however, say this: I learned as much, if not more, about life and writing from talking and corresponding with Dave Church than I have in most of my MFA workshop classes (and I've had some fabulous workshop professors). Sadly, for the last half-decade, Dave and I lost touch, and consequently, I missed out on an education, at a time when I most needed his perspective. I want to post a poem that Dave sent me in a letter dated 8-14-02---every one of Dave's letters came to me with poems, fliers for readings, or audio tapes---and if this poem has been published somewhere or is copyrighted by someone else, please let me know, and I'll take it down. But it seems to me, right now, to be especially apropos:

"And I'm The Star"

The same movie has been playing in my head
for three nights now. It's called

In the beginning
there's plenty of action---
fast cars,
easy money,
a babe on both
sides of me,
and two
on my lap.

The middle moves along
in an ordinary way.
The action is packed
with more corn
than pop.

It's the ending that bothers me---

I'm falling...

Dave Church

God bless you, my friend. Rest, I hope, finally in peace. And, by the way, you've been right in all of your advice. All of it.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Well-done, Keith. Bingo.

I found this video on the poet William Taylor Jr.'s Myspace blog, and it nearly moved me to tears. I haven't heard a more intelligent, beautiful response to the bigots in California who voted for Prop. 8. Everyone should listen to this.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

The Drop-Down Kid

At one point, I put up a post about my addiction to Googling my own name. So you can only imagine the consummate bliss I experienced yesterday when I went to type "Nate Graziano" into the search engine, and before I finished typing it, I saw the name appear on Google's drop-down menu next to "63,600 results." For a narcissist like myself, this is veritable dream come true. As I understand it, it means that 63,600 of my closest friends have been looking for me. I actually began to tear up. This will likely be my only flirt with fame.

Strangely---and I'll admit this was a bit disconcerting---when I searched "Nathan Graziano," which is the name I publish my work under, it did NOT come up on the drop-down menu. Why? Thus are the mysteries of the universe. But, hell, I'm not complaining.

I also have some new poems up on Word Riot. I gave you the link, but I'm sure if you Google-searched "Word Riot" and my name, it would come up.

Rock and roll! Hello, Cleveland!