Blue GhostGhost

tattoolit:

The first time I met Allen Ginsberg was around 1991, when I was an undergrad at Carnegie Mellon. We had been studying Howl and he came to read. I was young and awestruck while standing in a small auditorium watching this crazy old guy with a big beard chanting “ohhhh, suck tit, suck tit, suck cock suck cock, suck clit, suck prick but don’t smoke nicotine.” He was dancing around like a loon and banging two sticks together. I remember giggling and thinking, “so THIS is higher education”. Afterwards he signed a book for me. 

Next time I met him was around 1996,  shortly before his death. I was at 30 Rockefeller Center on the eighth floor, where I was working as a cue card guy for Saturday Night Live (my on again/ off again job for 15 years). I was in a cramped, unventilated hallway printing away with toxic ink when my co-worker whispered, “look to your left.” I did, and there, a few feet away, stood Allen Ginsberg and David Bowie. My co-worker, a college buddy at ease with this sort of sighting, introduced himself and asked the pair if they would say hello to his girlfriend on the telephone. They happily agreed and chatted with a stranger for maybe five minutes. Afterward, I told Allen Ginsberg that I was a big fan and mentioned the reading at CMU five years earlier. I asked him if he recalled dancing and banging sticks together while singing “don’t smoke, suck cock.” He smiled the kindest smile and said, “I can’t say I recall that, but it sounds about right.” I shook his hand and that was it.

So, about a year ago I was rereading America and was just blown away by it. I just found it much more beautiful than I remembered. So, I got the first and last lines tattooed on my inner arm.

I can remember riding a bus in San Francisco while listening to a recording of this poem on my headphones (the one with Tom Waits playing piano in the background) and thinking damn. And really when can I buy what I need with my good looks?