Queer Jubu Heroes

I was watching the Alan Burke show — sort of a primeval O'Reilly circa 1968 — late one night and there was a guest on the show the likes of whom I'd never seen before. He had long hair and a beard, not so unusual in those days certainly. But he was far from stylish.  And he was speaking about his husband, Peter Orlovsky. It was the first time I saw or heard Allen Ginsberg. It was electrifying. Here was a proud queer man on television. A poet. An activist. A mystic. The host, who usually made mincemeat of his guests, couldn't land a punch. Ginsberg danced around him lightly with his words, a fairy Old Testament prophet speaking the truth of love to media power. I was 16 years old, and my life changed. I knew there was no reason to be afraid of being openly gay — that there was no reason to be ashamed, or to accept shaming from others. I was lucky enough to meet him a few times. The last time I saw him, he autographed a volume of collected poems, signing it: "From one queer Jewish Buddhist to another." And that's the story of the name of this blog.

Comments

[Steven Sashen]

I was never much of a poetry fan.

A friend invited me to see Allen and I said "yes," mostly out of politeness and, in part, to see what all the fuss was about.

Even without his harmonium, the way he spoke was the most moving, dramatic, musical, electrifying... EVERYTHING... I had ever experienced.

I spent 2 hours, slackjawed, blown away, shocked, amazed, hysterical...

This was not too long before Allen died and that I passed up on myriad opportunities to see him in the prior years remains one of my few regrets.