Thursday, December 20, 2012


"Angels"
... we have heard on high....

I first met Scott Alger when he lived at the Hotel Maplewood,
a three-flat in Humboldt Park
where I rented the top floor (and roof. )

He had his own floor too.

(His brother owned the building- but that's another story.)  


(Humboldt Park urchins in front of the"Hotel Maplewood" (circa 1986)

I thought I was pretty good with kids but Scott was like the pied-friggin-piper. 
He took in whole families.  Black, white, Puerto Rican, didn't matter.  He practically adopted them.  He took care of them, fed them, housed them, befriended them, made them laugh, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera ....
...and he still does to this day.



Last week I paid Scott a visit at his beach house.  We hadn't seen each other for a couple of years and he gave me a cd of songs.  I popped it in the cd player for the ride home. 

"Song 4" on the disc hit the air and I sort of heard it.. and repeated it.  I played it again,
and again...

"Holy (expletive), I thought, this is one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard."

The sights along the road with the horizontal December sun setting along  the streets of Joliet, Illinois provided a suitable backdrop.
A school bus in front of me, some geese, an empty lane, a few dozen traffic signals, the semi-bleak visuals, the solitude.... so simple and serene....recorded in high def...
... just the same as the first time I heard it myself ...
...became video and memory.

I called Scott to find out the name of the song and give him my complements.  He said that he wrote it about 24 years ago and that I am one of the few who has actually heard it!  He gave me free reign to distribute it for him and I didn't even steal the copyright...
so here it is...
after 24 years ...aging like vintage wine.


"Angels" is dedicated to those who died in Connecticut
but really was written for any child who you love and protect. 
Thanks Scott.
Joe Pumpkin

Sunday, November 11, 2012

rING Ling bROs. $ BarNUm & BaiLey CIRcuS

Picasso loved the bullfights.  I 3> the CIRcuS!!!
Ringling Bros. & Barnum & Bailey Circus 11/08/12 Allstate Arena
Rosemont, Illinois
 
 
AAAARRRRrrrrgghhh. Although it's...
not politiCally CorRect.... I still <3 the CiRcUs!!!

All ways amazing! Overwhelming animals. Horses running full speed ahead and in ciRcLES.  DRiven by
women in flimsy silk or men in BLUE SATIN.
Five guys on a couple horses. No problem! Snap! CracKle! POP!



Tender moment w/ equine friend.  L (o) V e  is in the AiR


POeople sPinNing, hOrses WhinnyIng.  "Haak, I hea the LiONs RaW."
Look overhead! It's a bird! it's A plane! It's a motorcycle! on a cable! with two girls dancing gymNAsTICs.
Boredom does NOT enter the EQuatIOn.
 
The lion tamer's den was set up in secret and out he came. Cool as a cucumber wHild animals roared their Dis Pleasure. Unfazed, he commanded them to stand on their HIND legs. And they did!
 
No peOple were Harmed in the MakiN g oF thiS CiRCUs. !
 
 No Men were dis-ArMed.. alTHOugh, THEY Came CloSE 
....Take a bow, MaesTro.

Wild women everywhere, smiling and dancing, doing ballet in mid-air.
Music matched the magic. Spellbinding displays of Bee U Tee.
 
Hanging by their hair...  Ouch.
 

! wowie zowie  !
Fire, blades, martial artists,  iron fists. PumPing, JuMping THru hOOps of flame.... blindfolded.
 
... a few clowNs for downTime....
a visual feAST! A seENsory FesTIval. INDesCribABLe!



CETTE INCROYABLE 
 KingDom, pHyLum  ANImALIA.
 

 

 
FoR a GOOD tIMe....come  JOin the CoNGa LINE!
 
Joe Kotas 
a Bustlepipe Production
11/12/2012 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


Monday, March 5, 2012

Bukowski's Tucson

in bed with the flu and reading Rabelais
as the cat snores
the bathroom toilet
hisses
and my eyes burn.
I put Rabelais down
and blink.
this is what
writers do
to each other.
for him, I
substitute
a tab of
vitamin C.
if we could only swallow
death
like that (I think we
can)
or that death would
swallow us
like that (I think it
does).
life is not what
we think it
is, it's only what we
imagine it to
be
BUKOWSKI'S TUCSON
TURBULENCE
the flight was turbulent
4 hours and 5 minutes
through a winter storm
the next day brother Mike
careens me over hill and dale
in a broken down Audi
Demonstrating g-forces on
mountain roads. The views
were great but we couldn't stop.
for we were in a hurry
to join
500
tourists
at the desert museum.
Upon arrival, there's no place to park.
Finally, the car comes to a stop!
Old women yammering
endlessly loud
tourists in lines as far as the eye can see.
after finally gaining some equillibrium,
I paused to take some pictures.
This upset Bags tremendously
and he yelled for me to keep up.
He said it reminded him of the time he took his
mother here and she got lost
for an hour.
He likened me to an old lady with Alzheimer's disease
because I stopped to take some pictures.
TOUGH COB
we tend to like those artists
who starved or went mad or killed themselves
and were discovered afterwards.
it happens often
because great talent is usually fifty to
one hundred years ahead of its
time.
most of those acclaimed in their
lifetime
are mediocre performers.
of course, this is common knowledge,
so common that many of those who are not
recognized in their time
believe that this is a sign of their own true
genius
and countless wives, children, relatives,
friends and bystanders
must suffer
because of this illusion.
to laugh truly is to continue anyhow.
MEXICAN LUNCH
we hadn't eaten lunch
so while sucking on our slurpees
I offered to go next door and buy some Mexican food
for me and his family.
I patiently waited for
everybody's order
One chicken taco (I got 2))
One order carnitas (I got 2)
and one order of fries (I got 1)
I paid for the food and
we brought it home to eat.
Brian started cryin'
cause he didn't get what he wanted
or he didn't feel loved
or was treated like an object
or some other such truck.
and Mike yelled at me
after I stepped away
because his dogs ate
the food off my plate.
FAUX PAS
at the track today
they were putting them into
the gate
and I hadn't gotten my bet down
yet.
the fellow ahead of me
seemed terribly slow in
making his
transaction.
he was fumbling awkwardly
so I hollered at
him.
"COME ON! COME ON! PICK
UP YOUR FUCKING
TICKETS!"
the people in the
other lines
looked at
us.
"COME ON! PICK 'EM UP,
BUDDY!"
then the fellow
turned.
he had
no
hands.
yes,
I got my bet
down.
and
my horse
ran
last.
JK
and Charles Bukowski, from The Continual Condition
Chicago
March 5, 2012

Saturday, January 28, 2012

American West

Montana, Colorado, Wyoming, Washington, big snow, big mountains, big, mind-expanding mystery.
Vastness..... Endless...... Endless.......Endless.... Vastness.
Ranches and temperatures. Lakes and streams. Microbreweries and trout.
Rolling vegetation, roller coaster, roads, ride, glide up and down montana's two lane highway. view the big sky, country. clouds. storms.
Vast unpopulated. Areas.
Grasses, cows, horses and rattlesnakes.
Dinosauria, we. Hike the wild Beast. buffalo, wildebeast, yukon encrusted Cornelius.
Observe the unclimbable mountain peaks, rocks, snow.. did I mention? you gotta go!
JK 2012

Thursday, January 12, 2012

SAN FIASCO
May 21, 1979 -the "White Night" San Francisco Riot-
Original Super 8 film by Joe Kotas

It started with a news announcement on the radio, the afternoon of May 21, 1979. I was in San Francisco, hanging out in "The Avenues" with my brother Karl and friend Gary Tarbox. It was a beautiful sunny day.
The implication that the man who killed Mayor Moscone and Harvey Milk got convicted merely of manslaughter was immediately apparent to my friend who lived there. He said, "There's gonna be a riot."
The San Francisco gay community began to organize. They marched down Castro St. to City Hall. The atmosphere grew tense. No government officials provided any consolation to the crowd. The murderer was in hiding.
SMASH!
The glass on the City Hall doors was the first to go. A small fire on the corner of Polk Street was set ablaze, then a police car in front of the building. The protestors were not pleased with the unjust verdict.
And it was a nice night for a riot.
As the evening wore on, the anger grew. A large dumpster was easy pickings for a molotov cocktail. The cops in full riot gear could only stand around and act like they were in control.
One by one the cars were torched. The participants and spectators alike felt they were witnessing a historic spectacle. As the violence grew, nobody knew, what was going to happen next.
After about a dozen vehicles were set on fire, the cops finally assembled into one long line, four deep, driving the crowd into the streets with billy clubs and shields.
Joe Kotas
Chicago
January 2012