July 9,1974

The Year of the Diamond Dogs

The T.Rex ticket that became the David Bowie ticket

 It was Valentine's Day.

I was home 

from school

sick

Lunch time

knock on the door.

It was my friend,Gia.

"You weren't in school so I wanted to make sure you were ok", she said.

Any excuse to

 cut class.

She handed me

an envelope

a Valentine's Day card

a T.Rex ticket.

$6.50

Marc Bolan

 got sick

The show

was cancelled.

WMMR announced

"If you 

bring 

your T.Rex ticket 

to 

The Tower Theater,

for 

an additional dollar,

you can 

exchange it

for 

a DAVID BOWIE ticket." 

Thank you,Gia

                             The (Monkey) King and I

The signs
were there.

In Xian
On the street
The Monkey King
catching a smoke                                       

At dinner
the darling
monkey face
dumpling


In sunny Weihai
we visited
 the zoo.
A famous zoo
one of
 the largest
in China.

Built in the side
of a mountain
5kilometers high
Divisions 
of animals                                                                      

Roaming
below.
White tigers
Hyenas
Black leopards
Hungry steady gazing eyes.
Little chicken coops
dotting the walkways

“Would you like to feed the tigers?” my companions said
as the zoo keeper offered me a chicken
“No thank you. I think I would like to see the pandas,” I said.
“They are on the other side.”

Up up up
I trudged
Dizzy with vertigo



Finally
 the top
of the mountain.
Only to
have to                                        
pass through
the monkey cage
To get to
the pandas

“Oh,I’m not sure I can do this”I said.
“There is no other way,no exit”, my companion. said.”It’s ok.”

The zookeeper
slid
the rusty bolt
that
squeaked
the cage
 open.
                                                                        

As we entered
the zookeeper
slid
the rusty bolt
that
squeaked
the cage
shut.

A cage
inside
 the cage
was labeled
 “Monkey’s Prison”

Several
red bottomed monkeys
sat
looking
unblinking
scoping us out.


I had seen
red bottomed monkeys
walking
the tangle of high wires
above the streets
of Old Delhi
Parading
in the gardens
of The Baby Taj.
Angry and glaring
behind the bars
of the zoo
in Philadelphia


Here
 the red bottomed monkeys
roamed
freely .

Suddenly
one of the monkeys
sprung
and grabbed
at my satchel
Before I could
shriek
Another
monkey
flew
And in a
one single
swoop
in mid flight
That evil flying monkey
 snatched
my newly gifted bracelet.


Sneaky little hoodlums ,I thought, working in a team.

I looked
over my shoulder
And the red bottomed monkey
had landed
on a boulder
 arrogantly poised
holding
in his hand
the broken yellow silk cord
of my  bracelet
that dripped
luminescent pearl beads
In the other hand
one precious bead
delicately held
positioned
to be
popped
into his mouth.

I looked down
at my wrist
Several
dotted lines
glistened
red.

The mark of
the red bottomed monkey.

A reminder
that nothing
is really ours
and
that anything
can be taken away.                               

Back in Beijing
The “monkey incident”
as faint a memory
as the healing scrapes
on my wrist
A new bracelet
to replace
the stolen one
I noticed
the marker
 in the car park.

The red bottomed monkey.

Family portrait 

with 

Bowie Kid

(Polaroid)

1974

A good year

For mums

to recreate 

Bowie couture

For

their 

unearthly daughters

(Though 

I think

I made 

this one)

 

 

JANUARY 10,2016

Dear Mr. Bowie

Thank you for giving voice 

to our thoughts and feeling,

opening our minds 

and connecting us.

It was so much

David Bowie/Tower Theater/Philadelphia/July 1974

more

than music.

Although I mourn the loss 

of your physical presence, 

I will celebrate 

all that you gave-

immeasurable and eternal.
Rest in Peace

I'll be looking for you in the sky

HAPPY BIRTHDAY,ELVIS

gone but not forgotten

 

This photo
is from a book
“ELVIS
1956
Reflections”
by Morrie E. Kricun /Virginia M.Kricun

The photos
from this book
came from
the estate of
Ed Braslaff
Hollywood photographer/
someone’s uncle
in Philadelphia
 These
never before seen
Elvis negatives
were auctioned off
at Freeman’s Auction House


At that time
Freeman’s had
a weekly
basement sale
treasure hunt
The most remarkable things
could be found
buried
amongst
the junk.

I was a weekly
visitor
to the basement
And so
when the
never before seen
Elvis negatives
came up
for auction,
my basement buddy handed me a binder

(I had a reputation as an Elvis fan)
He said “Here, you might like to have a look at these.”

I sat
very quietly
and
very carefully
and
looked at
this
never before seen
Elvis.

 

HAPPY 69TH. BIRTHDAY,MR. BOWIE

with love,Karen aka Colleen

 

 
You may wonder
why I possess
an autograph
“To Colleen”
from “Bowie”

In 1974,
in my high school
of 4,000
someone
in the lunchroom
had a cousin
who was a roadie
for David Bowie.

Out of the blue,
she gave this to me
It seemed
somewhere
along the line
My name
had become
“Colleen”

I thought perhaps:
1- it was stolen
2- it was forged

It seemed
to be
a lot of trouble
either way.

But mostly
it seemed
to be
 a lovely thought.

In passing...Gretchen Ney Laugier 

  

It was
 the early 90s                                                              

"On French Beaches Women are Topless"GNL 92

Life was

An adventure.

Three thousand mile

 away.

How curious
to find someone
from my own backyard
here.

At the front desk
of the hotel
in Oaxaca
The Philadelphia Inquirer
was her calling card.
“Hello”,she said,”I’m Gretchen. I’m a 55 year old single grandmother.”

Born and raised
in New Hope
an artist father
a loving mother
Gretchen was                                               
a force of nature.

We forged a friendship

"Zapatista Women" GNL 99

Together                                                      

We explored

Bowman's Tower/taken by my son at age 5

Margaritas
in the zocalo.
Ancient ruins
with steep stone steps.
The dangers of
siesta time
wandering
in The Cerro del Fortin
Snow white hair
Laughing blue eyes
Gretchen
wanted to
free Tibet
stop all wars
and ride off
into the sunset
with Subcomandante  Marcos
She was
an artist
an activist
a mentor

If I complained
about someone
She said,”Karen,you know what Buddhists say?People like that are put in our path to teach us patience.”
pause
“Oh those damn Buddhists.”

My son came along
and every visit
was an adventure
Meeting                                                                         
 in the middle                                                          
of a bridge
on a blustery March day                    
Driving
winding back roads
to see
praying mantis
and hang gliding planes                                                    
Visiting the Nakashimas                                       
when the dogwood
 bloomed.

Gretchen 

once told me
at age 18
she moved to Paris                      
and worked
weaving
with
 Isadora Duncan’s brother.

Gretchen was adventure.
She lived life
on her terms.

In the
the end
she wrote
her own obituary.

I think
of her                                              

Shawl design by Raymond Duncan

often.

The other day,
I wandered through
an exhibition
“Chic Shawls of the Early Twentieth Century”
In passing
I noticed
a shawl
with
a motif
of
Greek mythology
Designed in Paris
by
Raymond Duncan
Brother of Isadora Duncan

And I knew
Gretchen
was
there.