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It was friday, july 21, an unexpectedly collided with the sorrow of an age. john coltrane, the man who gave us a love supreme, had died. scores of people were gathering across from st. peter's church to say goodbye. hours passed. people were sobbing as the love cry of albert ayler spirited the atmosphere. it was if a saint had died, one who had offered up healing music yet was not permitted to heal himself. along with strangers, i experienced a deep sense of loss for a man i had not known save trough his music.
Later i walked down second avenue, frank o'hara territory. pink light washed over rows of boardered buildings . new york light, the light of the abstract expressionists. i thought frank would have loved the color of the fading day. had he lived, he might have written an elegy for john coltrane like he did for billie holiday.
Later i walked down second avenue, frank o'hara territory. pink light washed over rows of boardered buildings . new york light, the light of the abstract expressionists. i thought frank would have loved the color of the fading day. had he lived, he might have written an elegy for john coltrane like he did for billie holiday.
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That wasn't much fun, but i had my mantra, "i'm free, i'm free". although after several days, my mantra, "i'm hungry, i'm hungry", seemed to be in forefront. i wasn't worried, though. i just needed a break and i wasn't going to give up. i dragged my plaid suitcase from stoop to stoop, trying not to wear out my unwelcome.
It was the summer coltrane died. the summer of "crystal ship". flower children raised their empty arms and china exploded the h-bomb. jimi hendrix set his guitar in flames in monterey. am radio played "ode to billie joe". there were riots in newark, milwaukee, and detroit. it was the summer of elvira madigan, the summer of love. and in this shifting, inhospitable atmosphere, a chance encounter changed the course of my life.
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It was the summer I met Robert Mapplethorpe. in Just Kids, por Patti Smith.
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That wasn't much fun, but i had my mantra, "i'm free, i'm free". although after several days, my mantra, "i'm hungry, i'm hungry", seemed to be in forefront. i wasn't worried, though. i just needed a break and i wasn't going to give up. i dragged my plaid suitcase from stoop to stoop, trying not to wear out my unwelcome.
It was the summer coltrane died. the summer of "crystal ship". flower children raised their empty arms and china exploded the h-bomb. jimi hendrix set his guitar in flames in monterey. am radio played "ode to billie joe". there were riots in newark, milwaukee, and detroit. it was the summer of elvira madigan, the summer of love. and in this shifting, inhospitable atmosphere, a chance encounter changed the course of my life.
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It was the summer I met Robert Mapplethorpe. in Just Kids, por Patti Smith.
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