This response to another of Hagen's submissions might make the answering machine song a bit easier to grasp:

"A few years ago, Hagen and some other friends of ours got together at a lake house in Northeast Georgia my late father and I built. It's my house now if I kick my mother out of it, but kicking her would involve touching her even if shoe-leather kept our flesh apart.

I don't think I was drinking, but whiskey flows like water in that house. And lightning has yet to strike it for all the drugs eaten neneath its roof. So we decided to get on the telephone and harass a friend of ours in D.C. But he wasn't home, Hagen quick-like cracked out a snazzy little melody and some offensive lyrics to leave on our pals answering machine. All I can remember clearly are the lines "Supan, Supan/Who's the homo now?"

Supan being ourr D.C. buddy. We laughed ourselves into levitation.

Anyway, just before this recently past Christmas, Hagen and me and a bunch of other old friends got a long and dead-serious note from Supan to let us know that he was intending to begin living life (outwardly at least) as a woman. Wasn't gay, not planning to have the dick lopped off, just wanted to live as a woman. Kind of surprising, because he looks an awful lot like Popeye.

Supan, Supan/Who's the homo now?"

If you drooled or something they would call it outsider art... green tea don't quite cut it framing wise... call it frog's piss.

9 million years ago? Seems like only yesterday they invented answering machines and especially that weird flowery bottled green tea.

Patti Smith invented green tea, right?, although Sonic Fred helped with the recipe.

How was the show? I don't think Marina even stuck around long enough to borrow an opinion. My best guess? It wasn't quite mediocre. Mapplethorpe made her look stylish and severe. Fred Smith made an alomst rock-and-roller out of her. My horribly sad take: just a fucking Jersey Girl.

I guess you have been talking to Miss Mortadella. She was rushing through a subway turnstile I was just about to walk out of. NYC can be a small town at times. She did not see me and got hysterical when she missed her train. Then decided to come to the art opening with me. She said, "Would any of these photos be here if her name were not attached to them?" Probably not. Kind of Seventies faux Victoriana, kind of like Mapplethorpe Soho. Cool movie about some frog called --was it Rene Daumel?--never heard of him before but cute young guy.

Patti can be as charismatic a performer as anyone I have ever seen when she is not off into the hippy thing. And I still like her first two books of poetry.

I most certainly agree your take on the first two volumes of poetry.

And a big tip of my hat for the Rene the frog joke. Cute guy indeed.

I meant the actor in Patti Smith's movie was a cute young guy.

Well, what a tard I am. I thought you were were pulling a triple axel (maybe even a Lutz!) by joking about an actual _frog_ frog rather than some mere Frenchman. (But Gigging Kermit would make an okay name for a band, eh?)

In France, Kermit's name is 'Rene.' And I've shown my sorry ass for the dedicated grandfather I actually am. The puns and the jiggery-pokery in the huge harm I do our language? That's meant to be sort of sweet as well.
And the p[uns and the huge harm I do our languagw

And thanks for posting the picture, Hagen. I sure do miss that crusty old sack of shit.

I was there. I'll dig out the pix sometime. The whiskey was mainly being drunk by Drew Construction Williams: "I'm just getting myself a beer, can I get you anything Drew?"; "Oh that's OK, I'm drinking Coke Rob"; "Well, can I get you a coke?"; "I'm drinking a special kind of Coke Rob". Also memorable as the last day that I ate meat. And yes, Supan would most certainly be the homo now if she hadn't tricked us all and become a lesbian.