New publishing concern Humming Bird Dreams Press launched Raul Gatica's poetry collection Broken Man (Hombre Roto) at Vancouver Public Liberry, Saturday November 14, 2015. A co-presentation Hummingbird and Spanish-language online magazine, Cencerro, the author and friends gathered to celebrate the new collection. Several speakers were on hand to sing the bi-lingual book's praises and to celebrate. Gatica, a Oaxacan political refugee and now exile, living in Vancouver since 2005, has remained a high profile activist for social justice and various causes. His activism in his native country led to 13 arrests, torture and the need to flee his homeland in fear for his life. Throughout the formal refugee process, Raul has continued to write, organize and speak out against oppression and tyranny. The poems chronicle every aspect of a doomed relationship. A jagged sense of romance and the fallout of a love betrayed are the primary features of this literary litany of the Hombre Roto (the Broken Man). Raul read selected pieces from the book and after each I read the same poem in English. A lively Q and A followed the reading. If you like your love poems bloodied and your poets bruised and battered, Broken Man will speak to you.
It's
been such a long, long time
Since we loved each other and our hearts were true
One time, for one brief day, I was the man for you
Last night I heard you talking in your sleep
Saying things you shouldn't say
Oh baby, you just might have to go to jail someday
Is there a place we can go?
Is there anybody we can see?
Maybe, it's the same for you as it is for me
I ain't seen my family in twenty years
That ain't easy to understand
They may be dead by now
I lost track of them after they lost their land
Shake it up baby twist and shout
You know what it's all about
What are you doing out there in the sun anyway?
Don't you know the sun can burn your brains right out?
My enemy crashed into the dust
Stopped dead in his tracks and he lost his lust
He was run down hard and he broke apart
He died in shame he had an iron heart
I wear dark glasses to cover my eyes
There are secrets in them I can't disguise
Come back baby if I ever hurt your feelings I apologize
Two trains running side by side
Forty miles wide, down the eastern line
You don't have to go
I just came to you because your a friend of mine
I think that when my back was turned
The whole world behind me burned
It's been awhile since we walked down that long, long aisle
We cried on that cold and frosty morn
We cried because our souls were torn
So much for tears, so much for these long and wasted years
_ _ _
For me, there is something to doing things out of posterity.
That is, documenting here (on the nebulous web) snippets of my life and my
times, simply for sake of the future. It may be important to none other than me
but in that it seems very important.
In conversation people who know me understand the importance
of music, poetry, art in general and Bob Dylan specifically. It’s merely a
perspective but I do believe that Bob Dylan is the Shakespeare of our time and
will be immortalized through his recorded work. I challenge anyone to give me
the name of someone, anyone born in the in 1560’s…Go ahead…
See?
It’s challenging to make a mark in our own time, our own
LIFE. But to have the grace to have been the creator, maker, author of so much
creative material astounds. As one who has tried his hand at poetry, prose,
music and lyric making I am simply amazed at the notion of the volume of
material coming from a single source, a single person. I think we are
conditioned to think it’s easy. Turn on the radio and you are inundated with
songs, hits, chart-toppers. But how many of these are one-hit wonders? How many
will last - how many aren’t simply frivolous articles of fashion? A 50 year recording career, a novel, a biography, at least 3 films, several books of drawings, exhibitions of his paintings all over the world, art installations and a never-ending tour beginning in 1988 that has seen him tour every year since. To say that is creative output is prolific and varied is well below understating it.
On this blog I’ve
conceded to the notions of taste and preference and I will do so again – for some,
Dylan’s voice is like fingernails on a chalkboard, but I love the sound of his
weathered and distinctive wail. However, as with Shakespeare, I believe posterity
will have the final word. Not only did people in his time appreciate the Bard’s
(Shakespeare's) work, but as time went on more and more did also. This I believe will be the
case with Bob Dylan. There will always be an audience of admirer’s of exhibitions Picasso’s
paintings and drawings. In any given city there will always several productions
of Shakespeare’s dramatic work under way. And I believe there will always be an
audience of listeners and musicians to appreciate Dylan’s songs and recording artists continuing to include their versions of his songs on their records. Sure, a person
can have a hit. Some have several. Some have greatest hits packages one and
two. But no recording artist of our time is as universally covered as Bob
Dylan. This means that among his fellow craftsmen and women he is more revered
than anybody. Imitation is the purest form of flattery it’s been said. The
people who write and record songs themselves consistently dip into the well
created by Dylan. I won’t delve into the cultural significance of the artist here
because I believe that to be of less import than his truest legacy - an immense
body of songs of depth and power.
So it was that last October I waffled though I knew Uncle
Bob was playing 3 consecutive nights in Seattle WA., a 3 hour’s drive across
the border and south. Could my finances bear it? Who could go with me on such
short notice? Were tickets yet available? And now several months later I am
so glad I seized upon what may be the last chance I’ll have to see him in
concert though I said the same thing in Oct 2001, when the lights went down at
the start of his show then, when he was a sprite 61 years old.
I am including his performance and the lyrics to Lost and Wasted Years from TEMPEST, his
most recent album of original songs. It’s a wonderful thing that in his 70's he is
still composing original songs of startling lyrical intensity and still traversing the
world modestly to perform night after night like an old bluesman, like a troubadour.
What else was Bob Dylan put here on earth to do? And unlike Shakespeare or Picasso, I got to be in the same room with Bob Dylan several times over the years as he did his thing. There'll never be the likes of him again.
* what's a blog for if not to get a few things off one's chest and as I've always said: you'll never please everyone - I've also come to embrace my contrary nature, as I've also often said: if everybody's doing something it can't be that good - this is more of a flippant generalization but seems unfortunately to hold true often enough from the lens through which I view the world.
The Tragically Hip? Great band, terrible name. I'd bet my left one they (the guys in the band, that is) feel the same way. There are those of us who could never figure out why they could never crack the American market, but with a novelty name that seems to go for the ironic, detached aloofness the guys are well-known for, I remember early interviews with Gord Downie (see, me and my pals saw them at a hotel club in Calgary way back when they were a mostly cover band and we had gone because of the ironic name, they had to be a novelty act) after a couple records when taking the world by storm seemed imminent and he would decry the fact that, at that point, playing in the US always meant a loud and demonstrably proud contingent of Canadians seemed to follow their every move. He was already by that point clearly less than enthralled by such solid support from fellow Canadians, he seemed in fact to take it for granted that, critically speaking, Canadians were blindly cheering fellow citizens rather than responding in the affirmative to what they might be regarding as good music. Well, all these years later, and The Tragically Hip could easily sellout multiple dates at every fifteen thousand seat arena in every major city in Canada (all 10 or so of em) yet they have failed to garner a notable following in the US market outside of Detroit/Winsdor, a single American city that geographically is actually located north of Windsor Ontario by strange circumstance and Hip shows are comprised mainly of Canadians. Everywhere else in the states, the Hip play small clubs the size of The Commodore ballroom or smaller. But it's hard to market a glib-sounding name like The Tragically Hip, what does a name like that do to your imagination? And, let's face it, Downie's stream-of-conscienceness, likely, meaning little-or-nothing lyrics are hard to find real meaning in. Yeah, I know, patriotic hosers at this point will defend their heroes as representative of pure Canadiana, that is, lyrical content full of references to Hugh Maclenan, hockey, hockey players and various if obscure Canadian geography (I'm sure Bobcaygeon Ontario is prepared to name a street after them if they haven't done so already) - but the references are vague and if people want to write university papers on Hip songs citing their relevance and importance, be my guest, but I'll bet my right one, Uni professors won't be as open-minded on the subject - don't get me wrong, some of their songs are timeless, original and they have a vibe full of ominous character and vitality - and they rock!. If they haven't by now, it seems less than likely that The Hip (as they probably wish they were called) will break ever internationally or have any notable following outside Canada. It is tragically so.
Now, the one that's going to have people all across Indian country PO'd - Idle No More? Great time in history for a movement, absolutely terrible name for one...Idle No More is poor choice of name for any kind of active political or cultural movement (or this one in particular). It's because, without subtext, the phrase Idle No More implies so many negative ideas and notions and seems to validate so many ill-formed and preconceived conclusions about Native people already at work in the mainstream consciousness. If I didn't know that the movement's name came about because a few individuals spontaneously called their message thread Idle No More on the Internet, I'd almost think it was created by non-native media manipulators with an agenda. First off, the name implies (that means: seems to mean) that Native people have been idle (not-active) until this point in history. The mainstream mindset believes this about native people anyways and it is the rhetorical argument you always have thrown out in any discussion with someone who's mind is already made up and is completely unwilling to consider any historical background, circumstances or cause and effect scenarios. In my mind countless Native people have been working their asses off lo these many years (and generations) to defend, educate, protest and ensure that there is ANYTHING left of Indian people, culture, history and that there is even a need to not be idle any longer as the name seems to imply. The idea that in 2012-13, Native are perhaps, for the first time, somehow, coming to an awareness that things are not fair and injustice is manifest must come as a surprise or a symbolic slap in the face to the families of George Manuel, Vera Kirkness, Elijah Harper, Big Bear, Jeanette Armstrong, Harold Cardinal, Alanis Obamsawin, John Trudell, Winona Laduke, Vine Deloria, Anna Mae Aquash, Luthee Standing Bear, Louis Riel and so many others. For anyone not to acknowledge the tireless commitment to their own and all Native people by so many before our time is ignorance pure and simple and disrespectful.
That the current groundswell (though, it's debatable whether at the time of this writing the movement is already a spent force) seem to believe they invented activism is not surprising. Every generation seems to believe they invented indignation, seems to think they are the first to experience inequity, injustice, intolerance or any other socially negative experience or circumstance. Idle-No-More in my neck of the woods seemed to represent more of an opportunity to see and be seen rather than a hot bed of ideas around organizing and political or grassroots strategies. The idea that Native people are generally waking up for the first time to racist, exploitive and inhumane policy is simply not true. And one also need consider the men and women all across the land who today educate, organize, heal, nurture and demonstrate either within their own sphere of influence or in some larger communal capacity or those who simply live exemplary, dignified lives and work hard each day to do so.
It is always a good thing to get lots of Indians together so in this regard I love what Idle-No-More represents - but mostly, I believe, there are tons and tons of Native people out there who have NEVER BEEN IDLE.
...The age old question: The Beatles or The Rolling Stones?...you can't be both (you can't) and my soul was won over by the swagger, menace and sheer defiance of The Stones a long time ago. But one cannot argue with the immense cultural significance that the four lads from Liverpool had on contemporary society and culture as we know it.
I have only ever owned a single Beatles record, have never owned a Wings record and though I did have tickets to his show in Rotterdam in '89 (didn't go, thought the fall of the Berlin Wall happening the same time as McCartney's show in Holland would be more of an event...it was!), I had never given much thought to attending a Paul McCartney show all these years. But the chance to see him in Seattle this past summer presented itself and knowing that the man is 71 years old, I knew there wouldn't be too many more opportunities and I went. A warm Friday night in July, me and my baby, an enthusiastic crowd, about 40 songs and the chance to actually hear the man who wrote some of the most familiar and popular songs of our time, sing them - Yesterday, Hey Jude, Eleanor Rigby, Get Back, Back In The USSR. I did see Ringo Starr perform many years ago and it was sublime but McCartney is surely one of the most influential, prolific and popular song-writers in human history and just the chance to be there was sublime. As usual, the philosophy frequently stated on this blog...it's about being there.
L to R, The Champ, Alanis Obomsawin, Storm Standing-On-The-Road
Serendipity is a wondrous thing and it brought Storm and me to
the chance to spend time with 2 Aboriginal women filmmakers of immense talent this evening. This week W2 is hosting the 2nd annual Vancouver
Indigenous Media Arts Festival…I actually called in sick this morning with a
stupendous head cold but when I discovered through social media that Abenaki filmmaker
Alanis Obomsawin would attend screening of her latest NFB documentary, The
People of the Kattawapiskak River,
I knew I would be there. But the added bonus was that the double feature
included Ojibway director Darlene Naponse’s feature Every Emotion Costs.
Darlene, it just so happens, is related to Storm (through her mama, again) and she
and I were fellow artsy, writerly-type students at Okanagan artist Jeanette
Armstrong’s beloved En’owkin Center at Penticton for 2 years and we are old
pals you might say.
Plenty of times on this blog I’ve given high praise to the creative
types or various others but I can’t think of anyone more deserving of accolades
than Obomsawin. I’ve always felt this way about her ever since I first viewed
her ’93 doc Kanehsatake: 270 Years of Resistance
which chronicles the 1990 Oka Crisis. Oka was of course
a defining moment in history for Indians like me – Oka changed
everything. And I am not the only one. The elegant and gracious director is now
80 years old (amazing) and I hounded Storm all day to commit to coming with me
to the screening. The film was, as usual, powerful and heartfelt and I recommend
any of her 30 films all based on subjects having to do with Native People and
the majority of which have been produced by the National Film Board. This woman
holds several honorary doctorates; a Governor General’s Award and is an Officer
of the Order of Canada.
She is supremely dedicated and so clearly loves our people that I never miss a
chance to hear her speak. She is the real deal.
L to R, The Champ, Storm, (film maker) Suzi Bekkattla, (Director) Darlene Naponse
Naponse’s film is an emotionally charged piece on grief,
healing and the complexity of relationships. Her film is lush and visually
crafted on a script she wrote and produced (all while holding down a
band-council position) at Whitefish Lake
1st Nation, Ontario
where it was shot (it was a trip whispering to Storm during the film: hey, that’s your relative on the left of the
screen). Back in the day, Darlene was always shooting and writing, shooting
and writing and you just knew she possessed the determination to go wherever it
was she intended. I am so proud of and for her.
Ironic and lucky for me that I should wake this morning discouraged
that my previously oncoming sniffles had become a full-on ragin’ sneeze orgy,
only to be now hitting the sack fed and fortified by the healing power of art…and
great company.
Recently, I produced a list of 10 fillems that I insist my daughter Storm see at some point in the next year or so. Note that I refer to these as fillems, not movies. Movies are something different and not important (something full of explosions, CGIs or lame jokes and usually very predictable and not much fun) . I look at it a something of a rite of passage and a way of educating her to some works of celluloid art that have left an indelible mark on me. Late this past summer we viewed The Shining together (was that wrong? – REDRUM!?), which she claimed to enjoy. Last week came a rare and thrilling opportunity to not only watch Smoke Signals together, but also to be among the audience for an interview following the screening with Evan Adams by Duncan McCue. Coast Salish actor Adams, of course played the now-iconic role of Thomas Builds-The Fire (Hey, Victor!) and McCue (Anishnabe) is a nationally re-known CBC television news journalist. The film is based upon characters and stories found in the short story collection, Tonto and the Lone Ranger Fist-Fight In Heaven by Coeur d'Alene writer, Sherman Alexie (another gem and among my favorite literary achievements). For someone like me it was a beautiful opportunity to have Storm experience the power and beauty of a fillem that speaks to the soul and never fails to get me…right here! But it was also a chance for Storm to see demonstrated (more importantly) the generosity of spirit and an authentic exchange of ideas that are the true means to empowerment and community-building.
L to R, Evan Adams, Duncan McCue, Storm Standing-On-The-Road and Loretta Todd
SFU Downtown Campus served as venue and was moderated by (Metis/Cree) film-maker Loretta Todd. My daughter is old pals (through her mother) with McCue and Todd and it was so much fun to listen to the discussion ostensibly on humor and healing but which managed to be full of hilarious insights and poignant reflection by both actor and interviewer. It was also a chance to experience the finest talent in Indian country in a relaxed and intimate setting. Throughout this blog, one of the themes I’ve consistently tried to explore is creativity. Now, obviously the participants mentioned all bear a high profile but what was most evident this night was the natural grace and humility of all involved. This aspect also has found its way frequently into the articles I’ve posted and I believe is a feature, quality or trait found in many, many of the successful persons of profile in the 1st Nations community. It has been my experience over and over again, through the years that typically, a well-known person or someone we may identify as successful is generally down to earth and very approachable. I love this about our people.
Beyond this, Smoke Signals itself is a fillem that is exceptionally moving and utterly guileless in its charm. This means that it’s nearly perfect in its modest (though exquisite) execution and could not have been improved upon with more millions in its production budget or alternate casting choices. It’s a fillem that is tough, tender and whimsical and as I mentioned before, profound. Like all pieces of true art, it remains, timeless.
New publishing concern Humming Bird Dreams Press launched Raul Gatica's poetry collection Broken Man (Hombre Roto) at Vancouver Public Liberry, Saturday November 14, 2015. A co-presentation Hummingbird and Spanish-language online magazine, Cencerro, the author and friends gathered to celebrate the new collection. Several speakers were on hand to sing the bi-lingual book's praises and to celebrate. Gatica, a Oaxacan political refugee and now exile, living in Vancouver since 2005, has remained a high profile activist for social justice and various causes. His activism in his native country led to 13 arrests, torture and the need to flee his homeland in fear for his life. Throughout the formal refugee process, Raul has continued to write, organize and speak out against oppression and tyranny.
