High Egoslavian Holy Day, this the standard Archie Ammons post: h/t self-portrait and interview with Ammons. Here's a profile of Ammons by David Lehman. His 1993 book length Garbage is quite possibly the single volume of poetry I've read most often: ask me and if I like you I will buy you a copy. If I played My Sillyass Des....
Yeah. SO WHAT?
Gosh, Jeff "invisible reference librarian who is e-buddies with WFMU" Popovich sure does like to tell us his innermost secret heroes, as if to say, "..and since I'm such an expert, they should be your heroes too."
Poor Jeffy-Weffy-Ding-Dong. If he lacks a blog and twitter outlet for his "expertise," he may have to realize that nobody gives a flying fuck what Jeff likes in books, poets, authors, musicians, cats, wives, daughters, daughter's college, daughter's boyfriend.
It's like he sees himself as Dear Abby, but for middle-aged proto-hipsters who still can't accept that at age 15, they were not a Kool Kid.
It's like he sees himself as a DJ at WFMU, but his playlists would suck, and they would kill donations. The eager listener group for Same Old supposed-to-be-cutting-edge Shit like Part, Beefheart/VanVliet, Swans is about 2 or 3 people, and one of them is JWDD himself.
Arbiter of Taste, but only in his own mind.
Sad Sack? Yes, in everyone's mind.
"But my shrink told me to act like a celebrity."
"Aaaaahhh... well. Okay. Who's your shrink?"
"Bernie's not a headshrinker, but he is a witch doctor. OOO EEE OOH AAH AAH TING TANG WALLA WALLA BING BANG."
"Okay, then. It's Tarzie."
"You are your own counselor. Terrific. And, explains a lot. Thanks."
--Harold Caidagh, who is relieved and glad he's not Jeff Popovich.