GENERATION BEAT
Date: Monday, June 20, 2011
Time: 6:30 – 8:30 pm
Place:
THE YIPPIE MUSEUM
CAFE & GIFT SHOP
9 Bleecker Street
(near the Bowery)
New York, NY 10002
(212) 677-5918
Admission: $2
Host: Gordon Gilbert
Featured Readers:
(Reading Their Favorite Beat Writer
& Their Own Work)
ALAN BAXTER
*
(Reading Their Favorite Beat Writer
& Their Own Work)
ALAN BAXTER
*
PETER CHELNIK
*
*
BOB HEMAN
*
*
CINDY HOCHMAN
*
*
ROXY HOFFMAN
*
*
EVY IVY
*
*
KIM KALESTI
*
*
RONNIE KORPAL
*
*
JOSH MEANDER
*
*
ORION 0.62
*
*
EVE PACKER
*
*
PUMA PERL
*
*
BOB QUATRONE
*
*
CHRISTINE TIMM
*
*
JOHN J. TRAUSE
*
*
RICHARD WEST
Sorry, This is Not an Open Mic.
Beverage and Snacks Availalble at the Refreshment Stand.
COME EARLY
for 4 pm screening of a Lawrence Ferlinghetti documentary by Chris Felver.
I'll be performing "The Mummy Piece" by William S. Burroughs and "Mum's The Word" by me.
THE MUMMY PIECE
by William S. Burroughs
THE MUMMY PIECE
by William S. Burroughs
Good Afternoon. The most arbitrary, precarious and bureaucratic immortality blueprint was drafted by the ancient Egyptians.
First, you had to get yourself mummified, and that was very expensive, making immortality a monopoly of the truly rich. Then your continued immortality in the western lands was entirely dependent on the continued existence of your mummy.
That’s why they had their mummies hid real good.
That’s why they had their mummies hid real good.
Here’s this plain GI Joe: He’s got enough baraka to survive his first physical death. He won’t get far. He’s got no mummy. He’s got no names. He’s got nothing. What happens to a bum like that? A nameless, mummiless jerk. Why, demons will swarm all over him at the 1st check point. He will be dismembered and thrown into a flaming pit, where his soul will be utterly consumed and destroyed forever, while others with sound mummies and the right names dropped in the right places sail through to the western lands.
There are, of course, those who barely squeeze through. Their mummies are not in a good sound condition. These second class souls are relegated to third-rate transient hotels just beyond the last check point where they can smell the charnel house disposal of shit from their skimpy balconies.
Might as well face facts. My mummy is going downhill. Cheap job to begin with. God! Maggots is crawling all over. Way that demon guard looked at me this morning. Transient hotels! And here you are in your luxury condo deep in the western lands. You got no security. Some disgruntled former employee sneaks into your tomb and throws acid on your mummy or sloshes gasoline all over and burns the heck out of it. OH, SOMEONE ‘S MESSING WITH MY MUMMY! Mummies are sitting ducks. No matter who you are, what could happen to your mummy is a pharaoh’s nightmare: the dreaded mummy-bashers and grave-robbers, scavengers, floods, volcanoes, earthquakes. Perhaps a mummy’s best friend is an Egyptologist: sealed in a glass case, kept at a constant temperature ... but your mummy is not even safe in a museum. Air raid sirens. It’s the blitz!
FOR RA'S SAKE! GET US INTO THE VAULTS! scream the mummies, without a throat, without a tongue.
Anybody buying in on a deal like that ought to have his mummy examined!
FOR RA'S SAKE! GET US INTO THE VAULTS! scream the mummies, without a throat, without a tongue.
Anybody buying in on a deal like that ought to have his mummy examined!
