Tosh Berman's Blog, page 132

Tosh's Journal: October 15 (Kato, Michel Foucault, S.S. Van Dine, & P.G....

TOSH’S JOURNAL

October 15

“The Voice of love seemed to call me, but it was the wrong number.” That seems to happen a lot in my life, and yet, I tend to keep moving on. Although I have been financially strapped for a while now, I still keep a man-servant with me. I had to sell off my rare vinyl and books, but I think I made the right choice. A butler is a sort of combination of spiritual advisor as well as taking care of one’s schedule and clothing. In a way, it is like an I-Phone, but I prefer the human touch to the mechanical one. Kato was born in Kobe, and eventually ended up in Los Angeles as a student of the English language and to study the fine art of Judo. When he was thrown out of language school, due to an overnight game of Go, where some say he swindled various participants of their parent’s pension money.

Nevertheless, I hired him as a butler, and he moved in with me in my single room apartment at the time off Melrose Avenue. Over time I got married, and people come and go in my life, but my butler remained with me thick and thin. And due to his cooking, the thin part is losing out to a considerable amount of fat. Even though I’m suffering from the physical point, I’m gaining in a peace-of-mind that is opening doors left and right for me. Of course, eventually those doors shut tight as soon as I leave the exit, but I go through life as an experience, and not as a result.

I began to write a detective novel that is based on my life. Not the case itself, God no, I never even seen a dead body before, but the fictional detective is based on my character. I’m not one of those writers that can write third person, only first-person narratives. Even when I dream, it is me watching the dream unfolding in front of my eyes. I’m in the audience, and oddly enough, the figures in my dream narratives are not based on people I know. They are usually an archetype of a specific type of person — usually the slut, the loser, and so forth. But when I awake, I can’t write the narrative as a nameless observer. I need to be in the story as well, and it has to be told from my point-of-view. Therefore my character is a foppish dandy and one who is part of society that is slowly decaying. As people who know me, decay is very much a process in life that I find fascinating. Kato always supplies me with clothing that is slightly worn or torn even. Maybe the collar is even moderately stained. It’s imperative to show life as it moves from one plane to another - and a detective murder narrative is very much part of that world. For instance, I come upon a room where there is a lifeless body, and my detective character comments and to quote from my book “The Canary Murder Case”: “Why the haste, old dear?” I asked yawning. “The chap’s dead, don’t y’ know; he can’t possibly run away.”

When you have a man-servant, one takes a stand in life that says I’m going to drink that cup of life and not find a dead beetle at the bottom. The ability to transform oneself into something hopefully better is one of the great things regarding to be alive in such a horror show of a world. “I don’t feel that it is necessary to know exactly what I am. The main interest in life and work is to become someone else that you were not in the beginning.” And there lie the great adventures that come upon us.  As we slip into a world that looks like the outside. It is an inner landscape that Kato and I dwell in. I once asked Kato if “trousers matter?” He told me that “the mood will pass, sir.” - Tosh Berman

Book Musik: "Year of the Monkey" by Patti Smith

Tosh and Kimley discuss Year of the Monkey by Patti Smith. As a punk rock icon, she rocked our impressionable teenage souls and now she’s taking us on a dreamy literary excursion with her latest memoir. Patti Smith may be best known for her groundbreaking albums “Horses” and “Easter,” but we find that her latest writing takes her to an even higher plane. She shares the ups and downs, both personal and global, of the year 2016 – the Year of the Monkey.

Tosh's Journal - October 14 (Pooh the Bear, Cliff Richard & The Shadows,...

TOSH’S JOURNAL

October 14
“Promise me you’ll always remember: You’re braver than you believe and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” I followed that advice to a “T” and it left me miserable and quite alone. But alone is perfectly OK, because I can’t stand the mindless chatter of my fellow citizens, even if it is to go from point A to Z, there is too much noise that goes with it. To find that one piece of silence and to be able to groove with it, ah, that’s amore! Even poetry is way too loud for me. I recently picked up a book of collected poems by e.e. Cummings, and man is he unnecessary loud or what? “Yours is the light by which my spirit’s born: - you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.” Total shite. When you compare it to Dean Martin’s song and to quote:

“When the moon hits your eye

Like a big pizza pie, that’s amore

When the world seems to shine

Like you’ve had too much wine, that’s amore.”

The above song is blaring, but it also fits perfectly as a form or stanza. The e.e. cummings poem is also a lie. I don’t believe him when he writes such sentiment - even he was a life long Republican who supported Joseph McCarthy, so fuck him anyway. On the other hand, the Dino song perfectly reflects a realistic approach to life, that doesn’t make moral demands on one’s ability to love or not to love.

Even that, I need to secure myself from the brutality that lies in front of me. Life, to me, is a series of elimination. There is such a thing in having too much. When you have it all, you forget where you’re standing, and therefore space becomes more important than the clutter that surrounds you. As a child, my mother read me “The House of Pooh Corner,” and there is a segment that explains everything important in my life. To quote”

“...” But what I like doing best is Nothing.” “How do you do Nothing?” asked Pooh, after he had wondered for a long time. “Well, it’s when people call out at you just as you’re going off to do it, What are you going to do Christopher Robin, and you say, Oh, nothing, and you go and do it.” “Oh, I see,” said Pooh. “This is a nothing sort of thing that we’re doing right now.” “Oh, I see,” said Pooh again. “It means just going along, listening to all the things you can’t hear and not bothering.” “Oh!” said Pooh.”

Now that’s amore! La Monte Young had a conceptual piece that was equally important to me. He recommended to draw a straight line and follow it. That, and his composition “The Well-Tuned Piano,” which in a typical performance can last five to six hours - is just heaven to me. There is no beginning, and no end, just an existence where you float upon what’s inside your head, and only the beat of your heart is the only rhythm one needs.

For the past ten or so years, I have been listening to Cliff and The Shadows, trying to bring myself closer to a culture that I understood being essential to one’s mindset. I even danced in front of the mirror, imitating the choreography of that band’s intimate and quite beautiful dancing, but even that, I was hearing someone else’s noise, and I needed to live and reflect on my “noise” than someone else’s. Therefore the dream that is in front of me is one of my own makings, and with that knowledge, I jump in with both feet and not a thought in my head. - Tosh Berman

Tosh's Journal - October 13 (Lenny Bruce & Emil Cioran)

TOSH’S JOURNAL

October 13

“I’ve invented nothing; I’ve simply been the secretary of my sensations.” As I walk around Asakusa, I found the theater where Lenny Bruce performed, totally in English on Rokku-Broadway. It’s an area that is full of small theaters, and it is regarded as the home of 19th and 20th century Japanese comedy. Bruce, being the king of American stand-up comedy, decided to do a show here in the late 1950s, but did his act in English. Ten or so years after Japan surrendered to the United States, this series of islands had to cope with another alien invasion. What I have read is that he bombed at the Toyo Gekijo theater. It wasn’t his subject matter, but the fact that he insisted on doing the entire act in English, which in the 1950s, was not a common second language in Japan.

Nevertheless, it is not what he says that is so great, but how he says it. I rarely follow his narratives, but instead, I’m glued to the visuals of the man on stage. The way he snaps his fingers in key lines, it is virtually done to wake one up in the audience. In other words, he’s absolute music to me. But as a visitor or tourist, I tend to like to see performances in languages other than English. And English is the only language I know. And what I know beyond language is music and visuals. So in that sense and my thinking, Tokyo is the perfect landscape for me. Here, I can enjoy my misery in peace because chaos is all around me. I can’t figure out how to work with anything here. Toilets are impossible. So many push buttons to push, but all in kanji, so I can’t read what it is for or even why. But on the other hand, “Chaos is rejecting all you have learned, Chaos is being yourself.”

I went to the “Band of Outsiders” cafe in Shibuya, which is a venue devoted to Jean-Luc Godard’s film “Band à part.” It’s an interesting place because all the customers here are encouraged to speak only lines from that film (in Japanese), and of course, at 9 PM every Tuesday night, there is the famous line-dance done in the movie. Sometimes there are up to 15 people doing an exact imitation of the dance done by Anna Karina, Sami Frey, and Claude Brasseur. With a few glasses of sake, I get the encouragement to join the dance. In my mind, I try to imagine Lenny Bruce dancing as well. I snapped my fingers like everyone else in the dance, but my thoughts are not on that film scene, but Lenny, as he performed in front of an indifferent Asakusa audience.

“The fact that life has no meaning is a reason to live — moreover, the only one.” Therefore I venture into the night and try to find substance, but alas, even that, is just an illusion. Yet, the beauty of the moment of getting lost, or having the mist of the rain hit your face, is truly what to live for. “Melancholy: an appetite, no misery satisfies.” I go to Disk Union Shibuya, down to the basement in their jazz store, to hear the melancholy playing by Art Tatum, and suddenly remembered that my life is full of right turns when I’m left-handed. No wonder I don’t connect to this world. And happily so.

- Tosh Berman

Tosh's Journal - October 12 (Doc Savage & Aleister Crowley)

TOSH’S JOURNAL

October 12

The voice of Aiwass came upon me as I about to fall asleep. It finds out about me when I’m either in the mood of exalted hope or dread. “The voice was of deep timbre, musical and expressive. It tones solemn, voluptuous, tender, fierce, or aught else as suited the moods of the message.” He, and it is for sure a male, speaks in English and very clearly, without an accent that can pinpoint where the voice came from. The voice seems to come from the corner of my bedroom. He’s not there or here, but alas, in my heart and soul. I imagine Aiwass as an “angel,” but one who looks over me. He recites me tales that I write down, and therefore I become known as Clark Savage, Jr.

I was raised since birth by my father (perhaps Aiwass) and other scientists to become the most shining example of a human being concerning physical strength, intelligence, and physical fighting skills. In other words, a perfect human being. I’m a physician, surgeon, scientist, adventurer, inventor, explorer, researcher, and a poet.

Needing a headquarters, I set up a lab and living area on the 86th floor at the Empire State Building in New York City. No one can be a living fort by itself, so, therefore, I have five assistants:

- Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Blodgett “Monk” Mayfair, an industrial chemist.

- Brigadier General Theodore Marley “Ham” Brooks, an accomplished attorney.

-Colonel John “Renny” Renwick, a construction engineer.

-Major Thomas J. “Long Tom” Roberts, an electrical engineer

-William Harper “Johnny” Littlejohn, an archaeologist and geologist.

I watch over conditions in Palestine, Guantanamo Bay, and elsewhere where evil is being done in the name of “good.” In a world of shadows, I hear Aiwass, and he tells me wise ways. It angers me that my fellow citizens think Aiwass as a subjective presence in my life, when, in fact, he’s entirely objective in his manner in communicating with me. My assistants and I stand ready to battle the wrong and turn it into a right. Let me make this pledge to you:

“Let me strive every moment of my life to make myself better and better, to the best of my ability, that all may profit by it. Let me think of the right and lend all my assistance to those who need it, with no regard for anything but justice. Let me take what comes with a smile, without loss of courage. Let me be considerate of my country, of my fellow citizens and my associates in everything I say and do. Let me do right to all, and wrong no man.”

With my headquarters on the 86th floor, I have a private high-speed elevator that leads to my fleet of cars, trucks, aircraft, and boats. I will use all my strength and wisdom in bringing justice to a world that laughs at common decency. “In the absence of willpower, the most complete collection of virtues and talents is wholly worthless.” I have the will to do what I have to do. As for faith, “I slept with faith and found a corpse in my arms on awakening; I drank and danced all night with doubt and found her a virgin in the morning.” Or in other words, “I have never grown out of the infantile belief that the universe was made for me to suck.”

So my assistants and I go in my limousine and play “New Rose” by The Damned, and I try to see the world as a reflection of my soul, which I share with Aiwass. There goes the night. - Tosh Berman

Tosh's Journal - October 5 (On James Bond's Dr. No)

TOSH’S JOURNAL

October 5

“Dr. No” was not only the first James Bond film, but the first film after my dad took me to see after forcing the movie theater in Larkspur to let me in to see Roger Vadim’s “And God Created Woman.” Most parents or fathers, to be specific, usually take their children to see Disney films or family-like narratives. Not my father, he wanted to take me to see “Dr. No.” It was at the Chinese Theater on Hollywood Boulevard, and the location was just magical. I was 8-years old and knew the importance of movie stars, even at that young age. I knew that they were important because their handprints were on the pavement in front of the entrance. At that time, I wasn’t conscious of the names, but I just knew that these people were really something. Also, I knew that some were dead at that point, and never experiencing death at that time, though it was a tad creepy. To leave one’s handprints after they go on to the other “world.” With that in mind, I entered the palace of dreams to see one’s nightmare.

The Oriental setting of the theater was perfect for Dr. No. Bond was pleasurable, but Dr. No was better. I identified with the villain because one, he expressed a world that I didn’t know, but by instinct, I knew that it would be a better adventure. Dr. No was the son of a German missionary, who abandoned him and his mother, a Chinese girl with a good family. He eventually ended up as a member of the Tongs, but working for himself; he stole funds from the gang. They eventually caught up with him, and to torture No, they chopped his hands off. Over time, he had hands made of metal that was able to crush metal figurines with them. The fact that he was a freak and outsider had a massive appeal for me. He was evil but understandable. “What is a monster? A being whose survival is incompatible with the existing order.”

As I grew older, and after my father passed away, I think of that film as an object that I shared with him. The trauma of the loss made me wary of having objects once owned by him, but at least in theory or idea, I have “Dr. No” to share with him. That particular piece of art had a profound effect on me on many levels. I became a fan of American noir films due to the theme of the outsider being forced by fellow citizens to take action in a manner that is perhaps not correct or right. Nonetheless, who can decide such decisions as one goes through life wearing blinders like a mistreated horse in Central Park. I tend to see the world in black and white. Not because of the duality of those two non-colors, but more about the levels of gray that come up in such an image. I spend life in the gray area, not in the world of absolute fact.

I recently started to collect film stock that was shot or photographed by John Alton, the Prince of photographic shadows. Through his eyes, I can see the origins of Dr. No’s world - not exactly as exotic, but in substance very toxic in its vision of purity gone wrong. My favorite actor of that period is John Hoyt, whose face seems to be made in celluloid perfection for Mr. Alton. I can never remember the narration because that has traditionally been the least of my interests while watching a film. Nevertheless, the face and how it is projected on the screen is what I find interesting. Even with “Dr. No” I have no recollection of the plot. Just the image of Dr. No reflecting on his metal hands. That says more to me than anything in this world.

Fashion Forward: The Sounds of Los Angeles' Visionary Les Sewing Sisters by Keith Walsh

Photo by Stevo Rood (ARood Photo)

Here's an interview with my wife Lun*na Menoh about her Les Sewing Sisters' project:
fashion-forward-the-sounds-of-los-angeles-visionary-les-sewing-sisters

Frontier Cabin from "TOSH: Growing Up in Wallace Berman's World"

Thanks to Gregory Fullerton for finding the original ad that suckered me (and my dad) into buying a log cabin when I was a very small boy. I wrote about it in my memoir "TOSH: Growing up In Wallace Berman's World" (City Lights). Even looking at it now, I still want to send $1 to this company for their log cabin. One of the first times in my life where I came to terms with the word 'disappointment.' - Tosh Berman

Tosh's Journal - October 4 (A plea for supporting Tosh Berman for a Nobe...

TOSH’S JOURNAL

October 4

“I long ago came to the conclusion that all life is 6 to 5 against.” I have to tell ya, I’m at the end of my rope, and it fits my neck perfectly. But that’s OK because I’m keeping my eye on the ball, and I’m not going to lose that ball. So far, I have put out two books: “Sparks-Tastic” and “The Plum in Mr. Blum’s Pudding.” One work is a non-fiction account of yours truly following a band (Sparks) I love in London, and the other book is a collection of poetry written in Japan. At this point and time, and looking at my bank balance, I really need to win the Nobel Prize in Literature.

 I haven’t worked at a paying job since 2012. At this time, I have lived on my wit and charm, but that can only go so far in today’s world. I somehow managed to purchase (well borrowed, to be honest) money to pay a one-way ticket to Tokyo, hopefully, to find not an adventure, but some sort of moolah. My only talent is to be able to write. I’m really bad at showing up at work or even working with co-workers. Usually, I’m despised by my fellow citizens of the time-clock, and I mostly made some dough on the side, by running an on-going crap game in the employee room at a specific retail store, even to this day, I can’t mention.

I’m the guy who came from nowhere - and I wasn’t going anywhere, but somehow I got I kicked off somewhere. At times, I feel like the dice are loaded, but not towards my favor. So dear people, my readers, and Facebook friends - I just need to ask you a favor.

I really do need to win the Nobel Prize in Literature, and I can’t wait till next year, because there may not be the next year for me. It needs to be this year. Now, as I see it, my main competitor is the Japanese writer Haruki Murakami. I came to Tokyo to plead with him not to accept the award if he is the chosen one. I ask, because I need the attention, and even more critical the cash prize that goes with this award. As I last heard, the award amount is now $1,100,000.00. Now, if I get the award (and the money), this will enable me to do nothing but write. I know you, people, out there are enjoying my daily postings on my blog and Facebook, and I have to remind you that I’m not being paid for this work. I did have an agreement with Facebook C.E.O. Mark Zuckerberg to get a certain amount of payment if people out there pushing “like” on my page. Sadly I didn’t get enough “likes” for his taste. That is what I get for working for a guy who was born in 1984 ... if you get my drift.

So now, I must call upon you. All of you. I want you to write a letter or e-mail to the Swedish Academy in Sweden and comment that “Tosh Berman should win this year’s Nobel Prize in Literature.” That is all you have to mention. I did send copies of my book to the Academy, so they know who I am. I understand that some members of the Swedish Academy even “liked” my page. Also, if you can, please do “like” this post, because that too could bring attention to the Swedish Academy. Also, it has been noted that the Academy has, at times, awarded writers who lean to the left. Well, I’m here to let you know that I’m a hardcore leftie. I don’t believe in any political party in the United States. Pro two-state solution for Israel and Palestine (hardcore pro-Palestine by the way), and for every left-wing movements that took place in Central, South, and North America. So I should fit in their category of a writer who does ‘good’ in their writing.

Here is their address:

The Swedish Academy

P.O. Box 2118

SE-103 13 Stockholm



Their e-mail address is sekretariat@svenskaakademien.se.

Do write to them, and tell them that you demand that Tosh Berman should win the Nobel Prize for Literature. Come on, people. You have read my books, you have enjoyed my daily writings here, so please do something and help support a fellow writer. A fellow artist. A fellow human being.

Also, if you can “like” (if you’re reading this on Facebook) this post, it may help me as well.


Thank you (in advance),


Tosh Berman

Writer

"A Short Treatise Inviting The Reader To Discover The Subtle Art of Go" by Pierre Lusson, Georges Perec, and Jacques Roubaud (Wakefield Press)

The Asian game GO is sometimes thought of like a brother/sister to Chess. Pierre Lusson, Georges Perec, and Jacques Roubaud think that's hogwash. In this funny beautifully designed book, the gods of the Oulipian world express their take on one of the oldest games on this planet. The book serves as a manual on how to play, but I think to most readers it's a witty take on game-playing as well as how literature plays into that landscape. There are moments of hysterical humor, and the writing of the book (not sure who did what?) is almost a parody, exposes deeper appreciation of game-playing as one does in everyday life. A remarkable little book.