CHAPTER OO—THEME 4

August 6th, 2009

Lower East Side

“Rr rr rr rr rr rr rr rr rr rr rum!” drawls Bowery Poetry Club founder Bob Holman.

Rebecca Migdal tries placating with, “Rrummpff tillff toooo? Ziiuu ennze ziiuu nnzkrrmüüü ziiuu ennze ziiuu rinnzkrrmüüüü!”

Unsatisfied, Bob demands, “Rr rr rr rr rr rr rr rr rr rr rr rr rum!!!”

Rebecca urges, “Rrummpff tillff toooo? Ziiuu ennze ziiuu nnzkrrmüüü ziiuu ennze ziiuu rinnzkrrmüüüü!”

I side-comment, “Rakete bee bee!”

Bob is fanatical, insisting, “Rr rr rr rr rr rr, Rr rr rr rr rr rr, Rr rr rr rr rr rr, Rr rr rr rr rr rrumm!!!!!!”

Rebecca strives with him, “Rrummpff tillff toooo? Ziiuu ennze ziiuu nnzkrrmüüü ziiuu ennze ziiuu rinnzkrrmüüüü!”

I have to point out, “Rakete bee bee.”

Bob—exhausted—relents: “Rakete bee zee.”

An emotional evening, this cremation-expense fundraiser for Valerie Caris Blitz, who passed away last week. Onstage, our ten regular Urchestra players are joined by comix artist Fly on guitar, and punk rocker Steve Wishnia on double bass. Among our dozens of friends—batting around black balloons I placed under every chair—are Fluxus co-founder Alison Knowles, who performed Schwitters in the sixties, and Lower East Side counterculture historian Clayton Patterson. Bob Holman has contributed the venue and—himself a longtime Ur Sonata performer—joined the show. His cowboy accent is a stimulating twist. Towards the Finale, Bob slips, cutting himself on his wine glass. He concludes our backwards alphabetization freely bleeding, a martyr to poetry.