This is fantastic. He is probably one of my all time faves. I am only not sharing this because, frankly, I am selfish and want to reserve his genius for folks like you and I who discovered it in the most natural, magical way.
I am writing a shorr story that is very much inspired by him. I'll have to share it with you when it's done.
This brought back a lot of memories, I retained Mr Serra in the past & my uncle Dante ran the Stinking Rose for some time, so I spent a lot of time at Spec’s, across the street from Vesuvio’s & City Lights in the late 80’s, I heard a lot of stories about Brautigan back then, especially about the period he lived I the flat above Vesuvio’s, I also lived in Bolinas on Terrace, right across the street from the house Brautigan decided to leave this world behind in…I have really been drawn to his work & enjoyed very much reading the biography ‘Hitchiker Jubilee’ about him…
I have, also the Joanne Kyger collection & I’ve read Ianthe’s memoir, as well as gone to see her read her work at Sonoma State when I did a reading there myself. I was privy to reading some of his notebooks that were recovered from the house where he passed, that was a real visceral experience, seeing not just the writing he was working on before his death, but poems scrawled on stationary from the hotel in Japan he frequented & sketches for scene ideas he had.
The lines of continuity are powerful and gripping, Graeme. Dennis McNally’s forthcoming book, which we will review soon, traces these tracks with great energy and authority. Simon
That I would like to read, Caroline. I suspect there are many dark moments. Brautigan was certainly deeply troubled but it sounds from your remark that the daughter might have made her peace. Simon
Sometime in the late 70’s I visited a friend in SF who lived in North Beach. Richard Brautigan lived across the street. “If you see him walking down the hill, it means he hasn’t had coffee or hasn’t had a drink. Steer clear. But if he’s walking up the hill, it’s fine to say hi.
The next morning, I was taking a walk and there he was, walking down. And I disregarded my friend’s advice. I walked over and said hello. He just stared at me open mouthed like I’d just peed on his shoes. He stared and stared. And then he just started barking. A loud and angry bark.
This is fantastic. He is probably one of my all time faves. I am only not sharing this because, frankly, I am selfish and want to reserve his genius for folks like you and I who discovered it in the most natural, magical way.
I am writing a shorr story that is very much inspired by him. I'll have to share it with you when it's done.
Hope your short story comes together. Sure you'll have some interesting material to draw on.
This brought back a lot of memories, I retained Mr Serra in the past & my uncle Dante ran the Stinking Rose for some time, so I spent a lot of time at Spec’s, across the street from Vesuvio’s & City Lights in the late 80’s, I heard a lot of stories about Brautigan back then, especially about the period he lived I the flat above Vesuvio’s, I also lived in Bolinas on Terrace, right across the street from the house Brautigan decided to leave this world behind in…I have really been drawn to his work & enjoyed very much reading the biography ‘Hitchiker Jubilee’ about him…
Thank you for your warm remarks and pleasant memories. Have you checked out Brautigan #2, I wonder?
I have, also the Joanne Kyger collection & I’ve read Ianthe’s memoir, as well as gone to see her read her work at Sonoma State when I did a reading there myself. I was privy to reading some of his notebooks that were recovered from the house where he passed, that was a real visceral experience, seeing not just the writing he was working on before his death, but poems scrawled on stationary from the hotel in Japan he frequented & sketches for scene ideas he had.
That must have been extraordinary encountering uncompleted notes from just before his death: poignant echoes of a soul that has travelled elsewhere.
Love Richard brautigan. It's been years since I heard his name.
Thanks for saying so, Gail. And don’t miss the second part of this portrait, also available at Rock and the Beat Generation.
Lovely Work.....though I was born in 50....and belonged to the sixties.....I understand it all came from the beats in the fifties^^
The lines of continuity are powerful and gripping, Graeme. Dennis McNally’s forthcoming book, which we will review soon, traces these tracks with great energy and authority. Simon
I am on the outside looking in too.....just the way it is^^
I am reading a book by his daughter, Ianthe Brautigan, ‘You Can’t Catch Death.’ Her healing memoir.
That I would like to read, Caroline. I suspect there are many dark moments. Brautigan was certainly deeply troubled but it sounds from your remark that the daughter might have made her peace. Simon
her preface quotes are:
“Fathers die. You keep on loving them in any way you can. You can’t hide him away in your heart,”Michael Ondaatje
“We all have our roles in history. Mine is clouds,” Richard Brautigan
Potent fragments indeed.
Sure that's not Martin Mull?
No sir! 🙂
Sometime in the late 70’s I visited a friend in SF who lived in North Beach. Richard Brautigan lived across the street. “If you see him walking down the hill, it means he hasn’t had coffee or hasn’t had a drink. Steer clear. But if he’s walking up the hill, it’s fine to say hi.
The next morning, I was taking a walk and there he was, walking down. And I disregarded my friend’s advice. I walked over and said hello. He just stared at me open mouthed like I’d just peed on his shoes. He stared and stared. And then he just started barking. A loud and angry bark.
He didn’t stop.
And I didn’t stay.