Doug, 1973. I'm certain Doug was focused on painting. He was living in an apartment in Orange with his mom and attending Cal State Fullerton. This Kodachrome film, balanced for day light rendered a Rembrandt-like warmth when exposed under tungsten light.Below:
Doug, May 5, 2009
circa 1985, Doug clutches a hapless Booger May.
Baseball Homies
Here's some photos taken a couple of years ago at a Bees game, in fabled Section 102 (or was it 104?)
A motley assortment of Westminster types outside "Delta House," most of us (although not, of course, Doug) in our requisite tweed jackets with leather elbow patches.
Paul and Doug 1973. This was taken in the back yard of the Mellon's house, our home away from home. Paul had just returned from art school, and as a "gift" to his mother, cut his hair. The expressions on their faces, though seemly homo-erotic, were but expressions of youthful debauchery and glee.
Doug in his studio, 1974
paint sketch by Paul Babin
"Entertaining BS" is redundant, and repetitive, and saying the same thing over and over again. I think Paul usually earns big dough for taking photos - this must be part of his "Big Dog" series --
ReplyDeleteDoug has shared a great quantity of fine poetry, some of it his own, some of it read aloud in my office or his, and it's something that I've always appreciated. Here's one I'd like to share.
A Ritual to Read to Each Other, by William Stafford
If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.
For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.
And as elephents parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.
And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider --
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.
For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give-yes or no, or maybe-
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.
When I got married (the first time), invitation - announcements were sent out. Doug returned his, respectfully declining. Scrawled neatly below the box labeled "won't attend" was a quote he attributed to Robert Lewis Stevenson.
ReplyDeleteThe quote was "Marriage is a relationship recognized by the police." Doug then went on to query, "Are you in trouble, Honey?"
Here's another poem, based on something Doug thought up - "spontaneous poetics" - ordinary things people say that somehow work as poems; lines 3, 5, and 6 by Prof. Wright. The first stanza is verbatim (except for taking out the real name of the person whose lights should be punched out), then the second is the same after being run through “multibabel” – an engine that translates the original through five other languages and back to English.
ReplyDeleteSpontaneous Poetics Project
You’ve seen my sister naked
I want to punch her lights out
That includes the artichoke
The museum chick with the big rack is this week’s contestant on “Guess My Race.”
Knock over my beer, Jason, and I'll fail your ass.
Why make an omelet when you can fuck the cow for free?
Multibabel Spontaneous Poetics Project
They give return to my intelligent sister.
I would want to punch it external of the lights.
This will count, carciofo!
The Kueken of the museum with the great closet is discussing weeks,
those to it, he estimated in the function my operation.
Fissisi in my beer, Jason, and I leave their donkey.
For which dice forms a Omelett, if you he can kiss the cow for free?