what's so interesting about Jim's reading at the Cubby Bear, Sept., 1988,
was that Jim was totally out of character that night. it was obvious he
wasn't thrilled to be in Chicago where being Irish Catholic is no big deal,
and writing about it just seemed redundant. so Jim came on stage at
midnite, unsmiling. he had just attended a book signing at a bookstore,
and this reading was just something he wanted to get over with. he was
unbelievable beautiful with his soft manner, but tall, athletic body. he
had on his classic silver crucifix, and it made him look like a Priest! he
didn't have eyes like "tiny waffle irons".
he didn't introduce himself, just opened a copy of Forced Entries,
and started reading from the first stories, "A Birthday". no reaction from
the audience of 15, 20 people. so he plowed on into "A Day at the Races",
and there was one guy who found it terribly offensive. (it's where
Jim and Patti race their crab lice in the Chelsea Hotel room).
I couldn't hear what the guy said to Jim, he was sitting right in front of
Jim, but whatever it was, it pissed Jim off so bad, he quickly reverted back to
the New York street kid, and shook his fist at the guy, and screamed,
"Goddamnit, I've done more fucking AIDS benefits than anyone!" then, he
calmed down, and went back to his reading, and tried his best to ignore the
audience from that point on. but screaming out something give him an
outlet for his feelings, and the next hour was just great. he paced around
the little stage with just the microphone and book. during the "Poet and
the Vibrator", he suddenly started to do a campy snotty version of Paul
Morrissey out of the blue. when he did "A Fat Bat", he looked up in the
air, and saw that bat flying around again, and cringed.
he read for an hour, but when he was done, he was done. he finished
up with a reading of "I Want the Angel", which meant so much to me to hear
it read before hearing it as a song. I remember that most of all.
then he turned on his sneakers, and ran off the stage, never to be seen
again; it was obvious why he moved so fast on the ball court. I think his
feelings were really hurt. nobody got autographs.
I must say, it's always great to see a great artist in motion, but to see
them humiliated, it was a reminder that it can happen to any artist
anywhere.