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 Expanding Skin, and Carlito's Way among
others... but we here in Bumville know him as poet and angel. Viggo has been
very actively invovled 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)
GENIUS.
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.
signed, Viggo
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.
start from zero