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current
Monday
Report
below!
This week's Special Report tells the tale of the ULA's
glorious literary weekend in Philadelphia, July 15-16-17.
This report features accounts of actual participants in the
shocking events of which you are about to read. Contributing:
Crazy Carl Robinson, King Wenclas, J.D. Finch, Brady Russell,
R.A. Rubin, Frank Walsh & edited by Patrick Simonelli. Enjoy...!
Friday July 15, 2005
Crazy Carl and Wred Fright's ill-fated Friday Roadtrip
from Ohio to Philly. Account by Crazy Carl Robinson
...let’s see...the ride itself was pretty painful…..i love wred
fright like a brother, but he drives like a lil old lady (and I
guess that’s part of his charm)…..anyway, we didn’t pass another
car going or coming---I swear…..wred was trying to get one last
road trip out of his 1990 buick before he put the red devil out
to pasture, so we couldn’t turn on the air conditioning either…..
then halfway through maryland, we got the flat tire……and we’re
men (albeit english teachers), so we broke out the directions and
the jack and pretended like we knew what we were doing…..
mercifully, a motorist assistance dude drove up with his torque
wrench and we were back on the road after a 45 minute pit stop at
mr tire……as soon as we got to the hotel room, I started pounding
beers, pain pills and whippets……we eventually made our way to
some lil pub called dirty frank’s, but the underground literary
alliance was nowhere to be found…..and even in my advanced state
of partying, the 6 beers I drank couldn’t ultimately overtake the
day’s 5 vicodins…..
Overnight Flight from Cali to Ludwig's beer garden
in Philly. Account by Pat Simonelli
I flew out from Sacramento late Thursday night to get me in
Philly at 9 a.m. Friday. Turns out getting there so early was
unneccesary, but i'd purchased the ticket well in advance--when
Karl and i were still kicking around the idea of having Jack do
an afternoon reading at a local bookstore. As it turned out the
2:30 meeting at Ludwigs was the only thing going on that day,
which was fine with me because i'd only gotten 2 hours of crap-
sleep, my head, knees and shoulders lolling into the aisle of a
jam-packed airplane, frequently knocked by legs enroute to the
lav and brushed by the ample hips of flight attendants well past
their prime.
I hit the hotel shortly after 10 and needed to rest a bit. Jack
came up about two hours later to the room we were sharing. He had
flown from Florida and taken the subway from the airport. It was
rather surreal meeting him at first, after reading about the
guy's personal life for over a year on The Daily Bulletin. Jack's
a straight-up guy, doesn't put on any airs, so i soon felt very
comfortable with him.
Just after two we took a short cab ride to meet Karl and the
others at Ludwigs. Wenclas was sitting at the bar with poet Devin
D'Andrea when Jack and i walked in. Karl had invited a few local
reporters to sit in on the meeting, but they didn't show--
apparently having some of the country's best writers and poets in
town for a weekend of literary excitement isn't considered
newsworthy in Philadelphia! We had a great time anyway, drinking
and talking about the Medusa show, Bukowski Never Did This, and
lots of other stuff. I enjoyed yakking with the Philly poets and
just listening to everybody. Hard to grasp that several people at
that table have been working on the underground lit scene longer
than the 25 years i've been alive!
I guess it was after 6 that we cleared out of there. We all
(cheaply) pitched in for the beers that had been coming to the
table non-stop, then J.D. Finch was nice enough to pick up the
remainder of the tab. Jack and i went back to the hotel, chatted
for a few hours, then --being the party maniac i am-- i crashed
long before 65 year old Jack did.
King Wenclas's blog post about the Friday meeting:
I was just at a great meeting at the restaurant Ludwig's Garten,
including many who will be at the show. Philadelphia novelist
Lawrence Richette was there. We'll be working on promoting him as
early as the fall.
Poet Michael Grover read a poem. Pat Simonelli passed around the
new Jack Saunders book. Jack was wryly amusing. Devin D'Andrea;
Daniel Bolger; the inimitable Frank Walsh; witty Doug Finch,
guest Miz Olivia, and through it all, Pat King with his
ubiquitous camera. All I know is that, based on the energy seen
today, tomorrow's event should be fantastic.
Saturday July 16, 2005
Gearing Up for the Medusa Show.
Account by Pat Simonelli
Saturday morning around 11 Jack and i met Karl and JD Finch at
Joe's Pizza. Went over the lineup and some final points for the
show and talked about the wide world o' literature. I found out
that JD used to be part of the McSweeney's crew. He'd met Dave
Eggers (under the watchful eye of body guards!) and apparently
knew Neal Pollack pretty well. Very interesting to find this out.
Finch bears a slight resemblance to an older John Ritter (before
he died). Seems like he's the type of guy who'd fit in with any
crowd. He's chosen the right side teaming up with the ULA---it's
going to be a long, hard fight, but we're winning! McSweeney's is
already self-destructing--its dusty fascade is crumbling & the
void showing through.
The four of us then walked a few blocks where we passed out show
flyers in front of the public library. Foot traffic was pretty
slow but we spread out and gave away at least 100 flyers. It was
hot as hell and most people looked at us suspiciously. Stressing
the word "free" while thrusting the paper in folks' faces seemed
to help, and a surprising ratio of people asked me questions
after looking over the cool flyers that Karl had designed. If
even one person came out to the show from this flyering effort,
it was worth it. After about an hour we split up to go chill at
our hotels before the big show.
From J.D. Finch's blog post on Saturday's Medusa show:
...the hardest working man in the underground lit biz and last
Saturday evening's incomparable MC, Karl "King" Wenclas. With
smoke and mirrors and trailing clouds of ballyhoo the Underground
Literary Alliance's publicity director created a show of literary
magic and meaning. Simply put: If you weren't there you missed
out.
Various posts from the King Wenclas blog,
Attacking the Demi-Puppets:
The Saturday reading at the Medusa was awesome. Not perfect--
there were a few glitches-- but awesome all the same. A few of
the readers were so striking (especially Michael Grover and
Natalie Felix) that the merely good suffered in comparison. Sean
Terreri; Ish Klein-- one could give out a host of accolades.
Crazy Carl Robinson and Wred Fright were extremely funny. Natalie
Felix stunned the audience with her strong voice, her flowing
movements, her beauty. Poet Michael Grover then stunned the
audience, in a different way, with the power of his voice and
commitment and the clarity of his poetry. I've never seen either
poet better.
The Read-Off between the Masked Professor (Frank Walsh) and the
Student (Brady Russell) was filled with drama, bombast, noise,
fireworks. Frank Walsh is an outstanding poet but also the
greatest pure entertainer in the lit world. Brady Russell was the
big surprise. He'd been quiet the entire evening-- was almost
silent during the interview portion when questioned by Wred
Fright. Brady's burst of verbal energy once the match began thus
took everyone by surprise-- giving the Prof back as good as he
got; the two combatants exchanging rhetorical blows like two
literary heavyweights. I'd wager the lit world has never seen
anything like it!
There were so many outstandings performances, so much noise and
excitement, throughout the evening, that once headliner Jack
Saunders stepped to the mic, we were all as exhausted as I seem
to be today.
To the best of my knowledge, this is the order of performers who
actually appeared at the Medusa on July 16th.
Shawn Terreri
Devin D'Andrea
Maria Pace
Miz Olivia the Godmother of Poetry
Natalie Felix
Wred Fright
Ish Klein
Fake "Rick Moody" via cassette tape
Michael D. Grover
Crazy Carl Robinson
(Smoking Break)
Wred Fright interviews "The Student" (Brady Russell) and "The
Masked Perfessor" (Frank Walsh)
Jackie Corley
Erik Bader
Read-Off between Masked Professor and Student
Patrick Simonelli Intro to Jack
Jack Saunders
Mystery Tape:
No one has yet come forward to take credit for the cassette tape
which showed up in the ULA's mailbox the day of the Medusa event,
and which I played at the show. (It was mildly amusing.) The
person who made it has to be a reader of the ULA site.
CLUES.
The return address was given as 122nd and Riverside Drive-- the
envelope was postmarked Astoria NY. The tape was a fairly
professional effort-- nothing I could've come up with, especially
given my current circumstances.
Legions of Read-Off fanatics are still upset over the
controversial outcome of Saturday's event, when poet "The Masked
Professor" squeaked out a narrow victory over story writer "The
Student"-- despite becoming unraveled in the closing minutes.
(The Prof must've spied a coed in the crowd, and became
distracted.)
Truthfully, both men were showing the pressure in the final
round, as I'm confident upcoming video will bear out. (Pat King
is editing it now!) What gave the edge to the Professor was that
he ran through the crowd after he read, encouraging much noise,
which I took to be applause. I was later informed that much of
the reaction was in the form of jeers and boos! Unbelievable. Is
there no respect left for academia??
The Student Speaks!
An Account of the Medusa Show by Brady Russell
I met up with King Wenclas a few weeks into my time in
Philadelphia, and he invited me to be a part of the show. I
wanted to see this show to get a handle on what the ULA was. I
really liked a lot of what Karl's had to say about the vision of
literature for the ULA. Literature normal people will like and
understand. Literature that reflects normal people's lives,
shows imagination and the intelligence to write clearly.
I also, frankly, can't stand Dave Eggers's writing and enjoyed
the hell out of the denunciation of his recent collection of
stories.
But I have to say, while the show was exciting on a lot of
levels, I didn't see that worldview represented at the show. I
found a lot of the poetry incomprehensible and frustratingly
preachy. On the other hand, I could also see a lot of the down-to-
earth spirit that, I believed, the ULA espouses. Wred Fright, Ish
Klein, Jack Saunders, Erik Bader and Miz Olivia all drew from a
well I think the masses would be glad to drink from. That was
exciting.
I guess I want to see the ULA gel around a clear vision. One
that's content to shut some folks out who are following a
different road. As a participant in the "literary battle," I
think the vision the ULA supports calls for a certain theater,
and I'm glad to put some theater into literature if it will get
people interested again. In fact, I think it's what's needed.
Enough of this dowdy, quiet shit. Hell, I don't even like to
write in the quiet. Give me a noisy diner to write in any day of
the week.
So I'm in as long as the ULA wants to be rowdy but clear, and I
found that exciting. I want to be a part of something where
people are willing to set aside their egos to create a shared
greatness.
The Medusa Show & Aftermath
Account by Crazy Carl Robinson
...the show started at 5 pm, so I was already a lil buzzed by the
time we arrived……for the most part, I think I’m gonna try to
refrain from naming names since, as a general rule, if I discuss
a specific person, it usually means that I plan on making fun of
him/her later on and I have no desire to do that here…..i don’t
mean to be sappy, but I did feel a certain kinship with the other
people in the room that night---the poets who read were genuinely
respectful of each other and of the poetry and I think/hope that
this vibe was shared by all those in attendance…..that being
said, on the nights when I’m reading or performing, I pay
precious lil attention to anything else besides myself (and you
know that I’m not the only one)…..like if you’ve got a nice ass
or are shooting blood at the audience out of some orifice I might
look up for a second, but usually, I’m mumbling song lyrics to
myself along the lines of mojo nixon and skid roper’s “and the
dwarfs cried giant tears/ circus my-ste-ry” as you leave your
heart on the stage……to tell ya the truth, I have no clue what any
of the other performers that night were talking about…..i don’t
really know what wred fright was talking about either----I just
instinctively know that I’m supposed to heckle shit about his
wife being pregnant while throwing lil plastic pigs at his
head……as for my “guide to astrology,” I think it went pretty
well---just take what I said in the preceding paragraph and make
it 72% nicer (ie: replace “leo is a cocky fucker that should be
put to sleep like a dog” with “leo is like the lion king---
destined to be king one day, but still in a clumsy and awkward
stage”)……
...after the show, me, wred, king karl and this kid from alabama
named pat (who was making a documentary of the night’s events)
decided to hit this greasy lil diner for philly cheese steaks……at
that point, the 10-12 beers that I had drank began to take their
toll and I invited pat (and his camera) into the women’s bathroom
so he could catch me throwing up on film…..i tried and tried, but
no matter how many times I stuck my finger down my throat and
gagged, the corona still held (and goddammit, that’s ultimately
why I drink corona in the first place---so I won't be throwing up
every 15 minutes)……after the diner, me and wred invited pat to
come back to the hotel with us and crash…..we drank some more
beers and I eventually got on the phone with pat’s wife and tried
to convince her to set me up with her soon-to-be 18-year-old
sister (who also lives in alabama and who is a big fan of country
music and the rodeo)…..and let me just say right now: “mandy, I
love you…..i’ll drive you down to flight attendant school in
florida and we can get married the next day…..i’ll be sure and
wear my stetson too, just so you know I’m classy and kool”…
With Jack Saunders after the Big Show
Account by Pat Simonelli
The Medusa reading was a tremendously fun and exciting
experience. It was the culmination of much hard work, especially
by Karl Wenclas and Frank Walsh on the ground there. We had a
good sized crowd for the venue, probably topping out at 50
people. There was an amazing amount of energy in that room!
On a card with no slouches, i thought Mike Grover turned in the
best performance overall. The natural climax of the night was the
Read-Off between the Student and Masked Professor. I watched
Brady sitting at his table all in a gamer zone like some wacko
starting pitcher--and then he really let loose at the mic! Great
delivery but his Round 2 and 3 material couldn't touch the MP. I
thought Brady rightly won Round One, instead of the second round
which went his way. The Masked Professor is a hilarious yet
dangerous character. Watching him reminds me of watching the WWF
as a kid. Brilliance and pure joy. Yet i think the MP's arrogance
and distractability will ultimately lead to his downfall. Every
Fafner has his Siegfried, but it won't be an easy defeat.
Jack had the pleasure of reading after the emotional explosion of
the Read-Off. The audience was rather exhausted---something we as
show organizers should have anticipated. Jack got up there and in
his easy southern drawl read passages from Bukowski Never Did
This, about how the book came to be published and an (unrelated)
theory on how President Bush passed out while fucking a pretzel.
He finished up with a passage on Charles Bukowski, then
gracefully accepted the crowd's applause as the Medusa show leapt
into literary history.
Eventually we all filtered out to the sidewalk in front of the
Medusa. A drunken female dwarf accosted several of us for change,
and seemed to want a kiss from King Wenclas...a romantic
interlude that Crazy Carl tried his best to arrange. I don't
think anything came of it. King, Wred Fright, Pat King and some
others went off to eat at a diner. I was tempted to join them,
but wisely chose to spend the rest of the evening with Jack
instead.
Jack and i walked the few blocks back to the hotel, discussing
the night's events. Once there we sipped champagne and Japanese
beer until after two in the morning. We talked about family,
work, publishing, writing, music. Many of Jack's central themes
came out in conversation that night, and i felt lucky to share in
his vast store of experiences & knowledge. I was particularly
interested to hear about Jack's relationship with John Bennett,
his longtime friend and publisher of his first book, Screed, in
1981 with Vagabond. These two men are colossal figures in small
press history. We should learn all we can from them and witness
the outcomes of their life works with extreme interest. For
talent, hard work, and authenticity, it doesn't get any better
than the likes of John Bennett and Jack Saunders.
Sunday July 17, 2005
Stepping Out to the Philly Zinefest
Account from R.A. Rubin's blog on Prose Toad
This was the announcement that got me away from my horsehair
couch and laptop last weekend: *Noon til 6 pm, the Rotunda, 4014
Walnut St. PHILADELPHIA ZINE FEST! The ULA and two of its member
presses (Red Roach and LitVision Press, --this is Patrick
Simonelli’s baby) will be tabling at the Philly Zine Fest. Come
by and say hello, pick up the new SlushPile and our other zines &
books! Jack Saunders will also be giving a free workshop on
internet publishing and his 35 years experience on the DIY small
press scene.”
I’m reading Jack Saunders' book now, “Bukowski Never Did This”
and will review later. I took my side-kick, poet John Schmanek
with me. I was kidding him all day about his luck with the
ladies. Well, anyhow, we went down to the University of
Pennsylvania area of West Philadelphia which is side by side with
low and lower middle class black neighborhoods. Remember Mayor
Good and the great Osage Avenue fire? They bombed a city block
to get rid of Romona Africa and other Back to the Earth city
dwellers. Goats and row homes don’t mix so well I guess. I
realize that all my audience isn’t from the Philadelphia area,
but that one got national coverage. Anyhow, you know what a Zine
is, pronounced Ziiine or Zeen, take your pick -- little personal
publishing projects full of rants and raves, cartoons about urban
life, and mockery of Red State folks...
Sunday's Philly Zinefest
Account by Crazy Carl Robinson
...let’s see...the next day was kind of a blur…..pat is young and
impressionable, so I made sure to start off sunday morning by
doing more whippets and weed……after dropping him off at the
masked professor’s house, wred and I made our way to philly
zinefest 2005…..there were plenty of hot girls there, but by that
time, I was exhausted and had blisters on my feet from walking
around philly for 3 days in sandals…..i smoked a couple of joints
in front of the building with some filmmaker dudes from delaware,
but it was mainly for the effect (you know, to enhance my party
reputation)…..to tell ya the truth, when no one was looking, I’d
slink over to a corner to prop up my feet and chug bottles of
water…..the ride home was pretty ugly as well, but we made it
without any more flat tires or mechanical glitches….
Wrap-up to a Great Weekend
Zinefest Account by Pat Simonelli
I passed Crazy Carl as he sparked up in the Philly Zinefest
doorway with a couple teenaged kids. I wanted to check out Jack's
workshop and take a few pics. Jack was outside at a table full of
people. Listening for a few minutes i could tell he was in the
zone, talking about his small press experiences. I think Jack
likes this sort of thing better than doing a reading. It was cool
that people at the zinefest appreciated what he was sharing. A
woman named Edie from Dig This Real was asking most of the
questions. Pat King had his videocam going, and a guy i didn't
know snapped a bunch of pictures, while Frank Walsh took some
notes.
After a few minutes there i took off back to my LitVision Press
table, which was side by side with the ULA table. 12 feet of
underground literary goodness, plus Joe Smith of Red Roach Press
across the aisle from us. It was a good thing i came back so
soon...Wred Fright had stepped in to man my table, and quickly
gave away autographed copies of the Emus zines that i had out
there for trade. These were from my personal stash...won't need
them any more now that the Emus book is coming out. I also gave
away a stack of Yul Tolbert's Whino the Whiny Cat comics, sold a
Slush Pile 4 to a British dude, and sold 3 copies of Leopold's
Red Fez zine, which seemed to be a big hit. Of course, what i
pushed most was Jack's new book, Bukowski Never Did This, from
LitVision Press. I sold about a dozen copies, which is a good
start.
Karl Wenclas had his flapping birdhat going at the ULA table
throughout the day, and marveled at the fact that so many people
pretended not to see it. Despite the hat, he sold a couple stacks
of Literary Fan Magazine and SlushPiles. In addition to Wred and
Crazy Carl, JD Finch, Pat King, Frank Walsh, Joe, Jack and myself
represented the ULA that day.
I met lots of cool people, like Matt & Carol Dembicki from Wasp
Comics, Bob Sheairs from Outhouse Publishing, Bob Campbell of
Suburban Legend Comics, Johnny Ostentatious of Active Bladder,
Edie of Dig This Real, Jim Testa of Jersey Beat, and others.
Enjoyed meeting Joe Smith of Red Roach Press...Joe's one of the
founding ULA members and his zine The Die always seems to come up
when i ask serious zinesters about their favorites. Must also
salute Andrea and Casey, the superbusy & somewhat distracted
organizers of zinefest. The entire weekend, we all made some new
friends and comrades, strengthening bonds essential to the spirit
of underground lit.
Shortly after 4 p.m. Jack and i caught a ride to the Philadelphia
airport courtesy of Frank Walsh. We thought we had flights to
catch, but as it turned out weather delays and the resulting
runway backup caused Jack and i to get out of there later than
expected and therefore miss connecting flights. I was stranded at
a crappy Denver hotel overnight, and Jack probably got stuck in
Atlanta. For him, the delay actually mattered. On Sunday night,
Jack's 85 year old mother passed away. She had been ailing, but
it's always unexpected when a loved one dies. Once he reached his
home in Florida, Jack and his family had to fly cross-country to
Seattle, where his mother had lived. I felt sad for Jack at the
timing of this personal tradgedy. A bittersweet demon seems to
have dogged the big man his whole life, but his greatness lies in
the fact that he never gives up. Now Jack's got the full backing
of an equally persistent group: the Underground Literary
Alliance! We absolutely will not rest until Jack Saunders assumes
his rightful place in American literature. He's surpassed
critical mass and it's only a matter of time...
A Southern Gentleman Captures 40th & Walnut Streets!
Frank Walsh on Jack Saunders' zinefest workshop
"Hope people don't mind if I've appeared a little stand- offish
or reticent over these past few days here, but I do need to have
my daily periods of solitude for my writing, for my self. Every
day," intones Big Jack Saunders with a succinct deep Southern
accent, drawlessly, as, after delivering his publisher, Pat
Simonelli of Litvision Press in front of Frontier Airlines, we
continue on to Terminal D of the Philly International Airport to
his departure gate. Just soaking up the presence and vibe of this
great underground writer has helped calm me down a bit from what
proved to be a crazy intense weekend of ULA events. So I respond
spontaneously to Jack's honest assessment of himself in
relationship to the flow of things without much interference of
self consciousness with another allusion to Bukowski and that
writer's take on writing everyday and then I add without a little
genuine compassion that, "the Buddha sez that happiness and
rapture arise from solitude", and we both silently reflect as I
glide my lumbering Olds Cutlass curbside the baggage check
entrance of United.
It was a Kodak moment. One of many it turns out. The occasions
when I found myself willing and able to listen to " the worlds
greatest underground writer" at Friday's pow- wow in Ludwig's
Restaurant, during the amazing show at the Medusa Lounge on
Saturday, and throughout the day at the Philly Zine fest at the
Rotunda were from my point of view the most engaging where I
could let my hair down and stop worrying about my own play acting
and standing amidst the ULA notables, great writers and
performers in their own right, and the nonaligned local poets who
gave it their best effort and fleshed out a weekend that made
literary history. Especially at the Zine Fest, where Big Jack
gave a incredible down-to-earth talk on self- publishing. A small
but enthusiastic audience joined Saunders out side at a table
provided by Gina Renzai, coordinator of Foundation Arts, for
conversation and expose.
Among those gathered was Edie, from the music/literary 'zine, Dig
This Real, who subsequently mentioned the big underground press
festival in Toronto this coming October 9th, suggesting to Jack
that it would be nice if LitVision's "Bukowski Never Did This" by
Jack were up there. He took the suggestion with what I learned to
be a characteristic cool levity (that of a man who considers all
experience even reversals and disappointment as an opportunity to
engage the world around him). The gist of Jack's advice was for
the underground DIY novelist/ pamphleteer (and in his wily case,
poet, provocateur of the Southern band "Dread Clampitt", and
whatever genre the situation calls on him as writer to interface
with) to roll with the punches, adapt, and not get hung up or
obsessed with one work but positively focus on the alternatives
in terms of strategies and "projects" (not "products" tailored to
the market demands, so called, as the Mainstream wants it). For,
as he explained to us in a kind, informed, never condescending
manner, the Mainstream (in other words the NYC literary and
publishing monopolies) is not interested in self- published work,
or even stuff generated by the underground presses, which, in
their view has no track record and is without the financial means
to comply with their establishment ways. A real Catch-22.
The "big boys" along with the McSweeney and Barnes & Noble chain-
outlets represent "censorship by market". He then extrapolated to
our great delight upon various real tactics the underground
writer should seriously consider in order to "breakout" out of
the circular "feedback loop" like "making contact" (not by a long
shot the "networking" per se we sorry city- state denizens here
on the East Crust are brainwashed into swallowing whole) with the
people, neighbors really, throughout the "country" (something
different Jack seemed to be implying from the "nation", a term I
noticed he never used once in our discussion!) and the small
businesses, like head-shops, grocery stores, hair-salons, down
the line, in the locus or "area" in which the undergrounder
operates, and running with it from there, pounding the pavement
even in the big bad brutal city if that's what it takes.
Saunders blew my mind when at one point he referred to New York
as "a provincial place" completely blind to the fact that, "real
innovation, true creativity... comes from the underground". That
was great! He went further and described the formulaic scruples
of the establishment and how Its expectations set limits on
creativity and talent in a way that makes what is published,
distributed and sold, predictable and bloodless and therefore
victim of the law of entropy. The system with its attending mass
market is thereby dead set against a writer like himself and like
the other writers in the ULA who embrace the vernacular, and are
fecund with the social taboos represented, at least in the
System's view, by, say, the white Southern "closed and corrupt"
social milieu. In other words the "grounding" in Underground.
Jack pushed home the working- strategy that the underground
writer hone their craft to a target market that themselves would
of course naturally identity with and "get it 'em", being
conscientious enough to trust in their skill and intuiting that
yes, "my heart is in the write place' and stocking one's writing
with enough "twists" (another taboo the Establishment does not
want breached) in story line, ideas, and character development,
overall tone. Overall an amazing encounter with one of this
Country's greatest living literary harbingers. The only other
words of wisdom in the "shoot the breeze" respites that arose
here and there during the ULA Big Lit Event weekend action I had
the pleasure of sharing in when Jack was speaking with us that
comes close to those given outside the Rotunda that Sunday was
when he laid down the skinny about Zena The Snake Charmer a
stripper who hailed from the golden age of burlesque, he
remembered from his youth. Talk about totem and taboo!
Above: Jack Saunders gives a workshop on DIY
publishing
Right: The ULA and LitVision tables.
Photos by Pat Simonelli
Click here for all photos from the event!
Click image below to order
Jack Saunders' new book,
Bukowski Never Did This,
available from LitVision Press...
described in this report?
If so, please email your comments to:
pat@literaryrevolution.com
Click here to see the Philly Show promo page
Click here to see more photos!
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