For The Carma Bums
Most of you out there are more than likely familiar with Viggo the actor, star of films like The Indian Runner, Crimson Tide, G.I. Jane, The Reflecting Skin, and Carlito's Way among others... but we here in Bumville know him as poet and angel. Viggo has been very actively involved in the reclaimation of Beyond Baroque Literary Arts Center in Venice, Ca. for a few years now and has been an active voice on the L.A. poetry scene as well. When The Carma Bums kicked off their Twisted Tour of Words in '96 at Luna Park in West L.A., Viggo came to see the show and wish us all bon voyage and ultimately helped us with artistic assist of our video/film The Luxurious Tigers Of Obnoxious Agreement. What follows is the body of the spontaneous letter he scripted while viewing the piece.
For The Carma Bums
(saw the movie, seeing the movie)
Threw away all plots, kept no records, gave themselves cancer, became one mouth, eating all of themselves, unedited, wanting no further circumcision, (unlike so many of us, bravely throwing the printed word into disremembered vacuums) _ challenging spiritlessness every step of the wroken way. Disprovers of blasphemy as a concept, as a working reality of any concern. Enoblers of disagreement, bringers of worst nonsense, beggars of each other, each flawed dignity lurking beneath any and all explaination, explication - exorters, criers, bathing in our empty tubs when we are away, not in our homes, not present, not living. I rejoice, for one, for all, gladly assume every speck is priceless, openly admire, thrive in recognizing true freedom of thought, action, proof in deeds of gigantic possibilities for minute observation, senseless dissertation, joint release, heedless & thankless at best. Blundering, obvious, and needy at best. Always at best. Best always at. Best at always. Best at always. Always. Best. At. Best. At best, always. Thank you. You are, and I'm happy knowing it from this distance, or any. You have, you give; we thank you.
P.S. : Moment. Moment. Moment. Moment. Sand. Moment. Moment. School of. Moments. Parades. Mammie. Moment. New York, right here, right now. "Unseasonable." Been hearing "unseasonable" and "unseasonably" so and so and this and tomorrow. What graph, what written ride are they yea-saying? This is the season. There is no unseason. Uncola. What. What movement is yours? Gone, is what. Gone. It's all here. Let's eat. At each turn I don't recognize you, know we are united because that's the fucking point, unavoidable, undampened by any gibberish so far. Wish there'd been a shower scene, though. Maybe I missed it. Process. It is over when it begins. Blessed by imagining itself to be us now and then, sooner or later.
Last edited: 23 July 2008 14:19:39