Angels at the window
Ferlinghetti
So this is a strange thing to do. somehow I have become a voyeur of sorts - no one looks at my mutterings but during bored moments I can peek in on people I don’t know.
Today someone posted a picture of Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s book Coney Island of My Mind. I know Lawrence - living in San Francisco being a book junkie for the whole of the 1980’s …well, it was just a given. And I was working on the intelectual fringe of the film biz helping out at the San Francisco Film Festival. The woman I worked for, Karen Larsen was Lawrence’s lover for a while - perhaps she still is. I’m the one who has become lost. Anyway - he is in reality so very sweet and so fantastically generous - He showed me the writings of Malcolm Lowry and carved the truth from the beat poets. I once saw Jim Carroll in his bookshop (looking for all the world like he would not live til morning…) I once sat at a table across the street from City Lights at the Tosca with Jeanette Etheridge, Lawrence, Karen, Peter Scarlett and a bunch of Russian film people driking shots of infused vodka and eating smoked salmon with my fingers and laughing until it was just too late or maybe too early in the morning…
Many people don’t know that Larry is a painter - and at one “opening” I saw this wonderful painting of a railroad track and I think a figure on it was a Neal Cassidy image and the painting was large and dark and very very beautiful - I wish I had bought it - I love all of his paintings
