Underground Man Surfacing?

There is this avante garde writer/artist who is ubiquitously labeled "underground" and his name is Weldon Keyes. If you know of him, you know that he's underground. If you don't know of him, you may either assume he's underground, if you get the chance to assume because in a heartbeat you'll be told what to think about him, which is that he's underground. Well no one really knows or has known for years where he slipped off too, but it's pretty apparent that he jumped off the sf golden gate bridge and insodoing killed himself. Underground, underwater- wherever he is- he's a fantabulous writer- a little grim at times ala flannery o'connery. It is easy to devouor his stories like eating your favorite pre-packaged junk treat. It's just that good.

I saw a few of his films Sunday night at the Yerba Buena. They were definitely underground, if that means pretentious lo-budge janky little contraptions. It's just that bad. It was a lesson in time and style as it passes. I thought about how I shouldn't overwork myself lest I get too tired and out of touch and make crappy art that people have to discover one day and then other people have to be eluded and deluded into possibly having to enudure and inure for a matter of hours or so. But then is everything I do and see about me me me? Ginevra would say, that it's true that Regina is an egomaniac. Would I then beg to differ or blithely argree.

So Weldon Kees (i always forget how to spell his name) was a true bohemian. He lived his life psychologically on the edge like so many maniacs before him. But I don't want to talk about his depressing life. It reminds me of all the nutjobs and my days of being a nutjob without help in my field of vision. Why are people interested in glorifying insanity. And talking about talent and how the meaner the more talented. Ah- I refuse to tackle this issue. I'm writing like chewing on gum. Which reminds me of a sound on the bus the other day that repeated itself often and sounded like Chewbacca and I couldn't resist laughing.

One of the movies was an anthropological/ scientific movie about a mother with 3 kids. The cameramen were hanging out in the apartment just shooting this mother feeding, clothing, bathing, etc her babies. The movie was about the mom because she supposedly had a disease that made her indifferent and not very affectionate. She didn't seem unusually course, but she also didn't seem very affectionate.

Anthropolgical movies are a funny notion to me. Only certain people can have anthro movies based on certain other people. Of course it's rooted in the tradition of university, which is rooted in a whole other set of traditions in itself. Can you be an anthropolgist studying your own people or people wealthier than you? Do you have to be looking for real scientific conclusions or can you just be a hunter and gatherer of stories that yield no true results.