I am not pleased with my blog entries of yesterday and yet removing them or editing them seems unnecessary because my readership is at this point beyond negligible. It appears that blogging ,like serial killing ,requires preparation. But, since I've already specialized in the latter I guess I arrogantly assumed that the world was waiting to hear from a serial killer who makes a mean frittatta and who plans to launch a muffin empire. I've learned over and over again about assuming and the ass it makes of you and me and all of us and there I went and did it again. I have not yet reached the 100 hit milestone set forth in my five day plan. I know for a fact that I have two readers that are not I or a relative, and that is better than none, but still I am insulted that a serial killer is willing to accept questions and comments and still she can't get action. Sure, I need to learn html and I have no right to demand readers to take notice, but I do have a right to tell you how this makes me feel.
"We are more alike than we are different."
This was quoted on the News as from Maya Angelou. What the hell? Is this quotable?
Delmont Klien said "I am anti loss. Is that profound?" and he died utterly obscure????!!!!
He also wrote many poems and spoken words that were never published until now. Delmont doesn't have a wiki page so don't even bother googling him. I'll tell you what you need to know: In the 60's He was rejected by the beatniks because he wouldn't say "dig it, man." and then he was rejected by the hippies because he wouldn't say, "groovy." and other things. He was a vocal critic of each and every movement and so "vocal." is a relative term here as mostly he just complained to himself. He lived in semi squalor until last year when he died. He was 76 and he died of inertia and ennui though the coroner called it natural causes. His organs were all serviceable so teh death wasn't really terribly natural imho.
At the time of his death, he had over 90 word documents filled with wonderful things that never found an audience. Actually, they never found an audience because Delmont never sought an audience. He like orphan annie was always thinking about "Tomorrow." and he wrote quite a bit of fine prose about his condition as a chronic procrastinator. Tomorrow never came until now. I am here to fulfill my promise to him-- to make him a posthumous sensation. I will need to prepare some paperwork for the court tomorrow. i am involved in a spurious restraining order, and I need to show a focused presentation which will show that I am being victimized by a malicious madwoman. Or maybe she is plain crazy. If so, I'll forgive her. I forgive anyone who just acknowledged their wrongdoing. But, back to Delmont: he did not become a cultural icon humously, that is clear. I met him last year at a spoken word contest. He was obviously on his last leg, both literally and figuratively. He lost a leg from misplaced optimism. He stubbed a toe and never tended to it etc. He laughingly told me that this gets him a seat on the bus. This "joke." stabbed my heart because saying "I'm taking the bus." in L.A is like saying, " I'm hitchhiking in the Pacific Northwest." Readers of true crime will understand that reference.
I was reading my piece called, " luminol blues." and he paid me a compliment. I paid for his coffee. and history just might get made if I follow thru with my promise. He snorted and sighed and sighed and snorted about all that is wrong with the world and I snorted and sighed back and a freindship was formed between two disparate soulmates that i can't say withstood the test of time because it was only a year before he died, but I feel sure it would if he'd lived. Though, contempt does infact often follow familiarity, so who knows.
Anyhow, I drove him to his sty on venice beach (which he shared with 29 other failed poets and social satirists) Sparing him the bus (later post!) seemed to enforce in him a effusive gratitude and soon thereafter he e-mailed me all his work. At the time I was busy busy busy with errands and events and brunches and event planning, and yoga, and deep tissue massage scheduling, 1 slay that required much logistical consideration, and trying to convince my non autistic daughter that lacrosse is for dykes etc, and I never responded till..... till... it was too late. He had died a week after he sent me the attachment and I had written him 4 months after. I am going to name one of my muffins for him and I will post his work here in drips and drabs . I owe him a debt. We all do. I have really taken over and i wanted this to be all about him. So, I'm going to go now taters, and post soon with Delmont's collected works.
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