My buddy, “Irish Bob”, went to Seattle last week and visited Bruce Lee’s grave site. He shared with me a rare bit of info about Jimmy Hendrix and Bruce Lee living in the same neighborhood for awhile. Interesting idea for a comic book. “The Kid” from Sam Delaney’s novel, Nova, with his laser shooting Kora-like Syrinx and a new immigrant martial artist ridding the streets of Seattle of all kinds of evil.
Seriously though…before Dante, no Dante, after Dante, no Dante. Same can be said of Bruce Lee. Where did Dante go so wrong that after 31 years there is still no marker on his grave??? Not even a veterans marker. I have the papers saying he was honorably discharged from the Marines, nothing about the Army yet except I know he was in.
What you don’t see in this picture is that Brandon Lee is buried right next to him. As a father of 2 sons I find that one a bit hard to take. Our children should live way past us. But who knows ones destiny?
I got a crank phone call last night from someone claiming to be John Keehan. It was not. I checked out the number before I called. It was an old pal, a Russian painter I know, Michael Wasserman.
Got a copy of >Kung Fu Grip Zine #0 in the mail. The publisher, St. Paco sent it to me. Paco is a former Chicagoan. He does htis little zine that is absolutly wonderful to be hold. Minimal, small, the one-inch punch of zines. Maximun impact with stickers and excellent writing and ideas. There also a Count Dante button inside the package.
It is a nostalgic graphic masterpiece to me the way it invokes the Kung Fu film/Blackploitation period. “Just Jeet Kune Do It.”
Paco wrote this great poem. Awesome. I am a fan of good poetry. Poetry, not spoken word. I like that minimal shit that does not try too hard to impress. Check out Paco:
RETURN OF THE DRAGON
Lips Pursed in thought
a trail of smoke
writhes from my lungs
with the menace of a
chimera’s tail
The oriental scent of
Hugo Boss No. 6
rises from my flesh in a
a romance afterthought as
a candle flickers
in a shallow glass
to cast this shadow
of contemplation
upon the wall.
A red origami dragon,
one that I
did not craft
stands majestically
beside the bed:
the delicate token
she left to symbolize
the fire of a love
returned.
That is by St. Paco, bad M.F.
