Horton Foote's children keep his plays alive - latimes.com:
Envy: who the hell would keep my plays alive? Most are dead on the vine already.
I heard about Marty Christensen's death too late to attend the memorial but one who was there was depressed by how few attended. When I led a memorial gathering to spread the ashes of my poet friend Ger Moran in the Shakespeare Garden in Washington Park (where some of my dad's ashes are, where his mother's ashes are), half a dozen showed up. Six people! Six goddamn folks to send a guy off, among the many dozens who knew him. Unless you have strong family ties, or strong community ties, you pass and get quickly forgotten.
Reminds me of several poems that end with the word ... oblivion.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
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