In this short clip Norse and I are completely relaxed and in animated conversation. Norse answers the question I posed at the close of part 3 by reminding me of a discussion we had before I moved i…[ ]
An Interview with Harold Norse, Part 1, Section 3– Saints and Self-Destruction
I ask Norse about his drive to write poetry.
He feels like a man without category.
He is not from the élite and he is not entirely of the poor.
He is not working class but he is not rich.
Norse was 53 in 1969, the year of the Stonewall Riots.
Not so long ago my wife and I commented that the LGBT community had become divided in over classifying ourselves until we are become but splinters of humanity. We are human beings with every right to Be, yet it may take us many years to realize that we are part of a continuum in which so called straight and gl folk form the outliers of the continuum with the centre or average position filled by Bisexual folk. Likewise the spectrum of Gender is not an either or and kind of thing but another continuum in which some are both asexual and non gendered while others switch from one to the other as it suits. These may be referred to as Pan Gendered. ( Norrie May Welby; Norrie May-Welby – Pangendered) Norrie May-welby is an aquaintance of ours, as was the late Carmen Rupee, originally a Lay Girl and snake dancer then Transgender woman. carmen once was a member of our Community https://ccohsydney.wordpress.com/
The 60s and earlier were frightful times for the Rainbow Community, and but for the scientific and psychiatric understanding of the nature of the human, I might almost say” That was then, this is now”
But I cannot since bigotry is ingrained, cellular, molecular, someone must be there who I believe is anathema to make me feel valid!
The alarm rang and the radio spat news.
Bonwit Teller opened his eyes to a foggy San Francisco morning.
He threw off the comforter, angrily pulled down the shades, and
crawled back into bed.
The phone rang [one hell of a night before]
My best friend Kit was a bit of a twit before he got sick, but
he was brilliant and passionate about gay liberation.
Our friendship was based on mutual geekiness.
Kit tinkered with a Mac or a Tandy while I wrote poetry and
listened to Pattie Smith through my headphones.
It was the third year of the AIDS epidemic.
Written from the Dental Hospital between 10,00 am and 10.40 am this morning
Dear friends, you may have noticed that it has been quit up here. Some of you know that have been in hospital doing Video telemetry for Jessoca’ s epilepsy.
Well trouble struck for me the following Monday when we attended St. Vincent’s hospital. I HAD A SECIZURE ON THE BUS coming in to the appointment and then had a headach focused on mt left occipital lobe and was seeind double. I WENT TO EMERGENCY as if one visit wasn’t enough- spent the entire day fom 8 until 2, Had a cat scan, chest x ray, eeg, ecg, to rule out stroke and minor heart attack, then it was decided I had had a peculiar post ichtal reaction. Will be seeing my Neurogist Friday week.
It is now 5 minutes after 11 pm , I have had an inpression made for my dentures and paid the excess for the superior base which will give me opportunity to actually taste the food I eat.
My phone is too flate to abstract its phots, as is the phone which is making me more than annoyed. I hope to return to my regular postings soon.
Also to the Parish one which have suffered just as woefully as this one.
I moved in with Norse in 1984 and spent my days writing and studying
film and literature.
Norse was drafting his memoirs.
We lived in a creative stew under the strain of the most devastating years
of the AIDS epidemic.
We both had good reason to think our lives would soon be over.
The pressure I placed on myself brought on the symptoms of florid DID.
My alternates were coming out and writing and Harold was responding
to them as ‘characters’
Norse gives me a rundown of what he liked or hated about a collection of poems I left for him one week in February 1985. He calls me ‘Bobby’ in the note and uses. ‘Bobby’s’ accent in the opening. Seems I also wrote a poem called ‘Jew-Boy’ that Norse thought was sick. I have no memory of ‘Jew-Boy’. One definitely had to be strong to ask Norse to critique one’s writing. What I loved about Norse was that I always knew I was getting the truth. He signs the note, ‘Your loving dementor’
From – An Interview With Harold Norse, Part One: The Art of Teaching
In 1992, I interviewed my friend and literary mentor, Harold Norse.
I moved in with Norse in July of 1984 and moved out in August of 1989 .