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Great Demon Kings
A rollicking, sexy memoir of a young poet making his way in 1960s New York City
When he graduated from Columbia in 1958, John Giorno was handsome, charismatic, ambitious, and eager to soak up as much of Manhattan's art and culture as possible. Poetry didn't pay the bills, so he worked on Wall Street, spending his nights at the happenings, underground movie premiers, art shows, and poetry readings that brought the city to life. An intense romantic relationship with Andy Warhol―not yet the global superstar he would soon become―exposed Giorno to even more of the downtown scene, but after starring in Warhol's first movie, Sleep , they drifted apart. Giorno soon found himself involved with Robert Rauschenberg and later Jasper Johns, both relationships fueling his creativity. He quickly became a renowned poet in his own right, working at the intersection of literature and technology, freely crossing genres and mediums alongside the likes of William Burroughs and Brion Gysin.
Twenty-five years in the making, and completed shortly before Giorno's death in 2019, Great Demon Kings is the memoir of a singular cultural an openly gay man at a time when many artists remained closeted and shunned gay subject matter, and a devout Buddhist whose faith acted as a rudder during a life of tremendous animation, one full of fantastic highs and frightening lows. Studded with appearances by nearly every it-boy and girl of the downtown scene (including a moving portrait of a decades-long friendship with Burroughs), this book offers a joyous, life-affirming, and sensational look at New York City during its creative peak, narrated in the unforgettable voice of one of its most singular characters.
When he graduated from Columbia in 1958, John Giorno was handsome, charismatic, ambitious, and eager to soak up as much of Manhattan's art and culture as possible. Poetry didn't pay the bills, so he worked on Wall Street, spending his nights at the happenings, underground movie premiers, art shows, and poetry readings that brought the city to life. An intense romantic relationship with Andy Warhol―not yet the global superstar he would soon become―exposed Giorno to even more of the downtown scene, but after starring in Warhol's first movie, Sleep , they drifted apart. Giorno soon found himself involved with Robert Rauschenberg and later Jasper Johns, both relationships fueling his creativity. He quickly became a renowned poet in his own right, working at the intersection of literature and technology, freely crossing genres and mediums alongside the likes of William Burroughs and Brion Gysin.
Twenty-five years in the making, and completed shortly before Giorno's death in 2019, Great Demon Kings is the memoir of a singular cultural an openly gay man at a time when many artists remained closeted and shunned gay subject matter, and a devout Buddhist whose faith acted as a rudder during a life of tremendous animation, one full of fantastic highs and frightening lows. Studded with appearances by nearly every it-boy and girl of the downtown scene (including a moving portrait of a decades-long friendship with Burroughs), this book offers a joyous, life-affirming, and sensational look at New York City during its creative peak, narrated in the unforgettable voice of one of its most singular characters.
368 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2020
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561 people want to read
About the author
John Giorno
29 books17 followersJohn Giorno was an American poet and performance artist.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 49 reviews
June 17, 2023
Took my feelings about this book a while to settle down upon finishing it. I've read about Andy Warhol before, and others in the literary/art world of the time, but especially about William S. Burroughs, so this memoir kept bumping up against other accounts percolating in my spongy consciousness.
First of all, any memoir that has "Enlightenment" in the subtitle is immediately suspect. This book and this life are both driven by ego, is a manifestation of ego—but perhaps this ego display is meant in an upside-down way to show how Giorno has transcended ego. [??]. That indeed appears to be this book's stated conclusion: "Great demon kings are people controlled by their big egos, but sometimes their egos inspire them to aspire to realize the empty true nature of mind; and they become Buddhas."
Yes, well, the key word here is "aspire." Aspiration is not realization.
As I read Giorno, I kept revisiting Ted Morgan's biography of Burroughs: Literary Outlaw: The Life and Times of William S. Burroughs. Some sections track quite closely (probably because Morgan originally heard the stories from Giorno), but Morgan also provides additional context. Giorno does not mention that he wrote a column in 1969/70 for the short-lived magazine Culture Hero in which "he managed to offend almost everyone of note in the art world" by revealing very personal information. This is how Morgan summarizes the turmoil: "Giorno's attempt to cut through the cant and pretence and preening self-importance of the New York art world brought him ostracism from his peers. He was identified as the enemy for reporting indiscretions." (Remember when "outing" first became a thing and was so controversial? What Giorno did was decades earlier, and the revelations much more graphic and intimate than merely outing — and outing itself was career-destroying.)
Giorno comes across in his own memoir as a dedicated starf**ker and name-dropper, but also as someone who burned his bridges and harboured resentments. When he mentioned the loss of the gay community to AIDS, he listed "close friends" such as Peter Hujar and Howard Brookner. I wondered, why were such close friends never previously mentioned in the text, why were the lives of such dear departed friends not celebrated in Giorno's memoir? Instead he focuses on the biggest names he can find, and dwells on them—and tries to make a point about THEIR egos.
When Burroughs dies, Giorno laments that almost everyone from the "golden age of promiscuity" had died, yet at that point the dancer Steve Paxton, and the artists Robert Rauschenberg and Jasper Johns were all still alive, and in fact two of these three have outlived Giorno himself.
There is an element of spiritual practice which is purely performative, and this feeds the ego—look at me, meditating on the sand dunes at dawn, look at me being such a good buddhist, look at me with my famous teacher, look at me telling you how skillfully I influenced William Burroughs's spirit after he died. Also cringe inducing were Giorno's descriptions of his writing process: taking speed and then working really hard on a poem for hours. HOURS!
A tangential figure in the lives of many much more famous men, in this memoir Giorno tries to promote himself as a central figure. Somehow I wanted more from him, to see him as the star in his own life, although when he described his work as ground-breaking or a reading in Paris as masterful, I certainly wanted less of his ego. What was his aspiration here, with this memoir? We see what was realized, but to what did John Giorno aspire? If one considers the element of projection, one might conclude that Giorno was trying to cement his own legacy as a "Great Demon King."
First of all, any memoir that has "Enlightenment" in the subtitle is immediately suspect. This book and this life are both driven by ego, is a manifestation of ego—but perhaps this ego display is meant in an upside-down way to show how Giorno has transcended ego. [??]. That indeed appears to be this book's stated conclusion: "Great demon kings are people controlled by their big egos, but sometimes their egos inspire them to aspire to realize the empty true nature of mind; and they become Buddhas."
Yes, well, the key word here is "aspire." Aspiration is not realization.
As I read Giorno, I kept revisiting Ted Morgan's biography of Burroughs: Literary Outlaw: The Life and Times of William S. Burroughs. Some sections track quite closely (probably because Morgan originally heard the stories from Giorno), but Morgan also provides additional context. Giorno does not mention that he wrote a column in 1969/70 for the short-lived magazine Culture Hero in which "he managed to offend almost everyone of note in the art world" by revealing very personal information. This is how Morgan summarizes the turmoil: "Giorno's attempt to cut through the cant and pretence and preening self-importance of the New York art world brought him ostracism from his peers. He was identified as the enemy for reporting indiscretions." (Remember when "outing" first became a thing and was so controversial? What Giorno did was decades earlier, and the revelations much more graphic and intimate than merely outing — and outing itself was career-destroying.)
Giorno comes across in his own memoir as a dedicated starf**ker and name-dropper, but also as someone who burned his bridges and harboured resentments. When he mentioned the loss of the gay community to AIDS, he listed "close friends" such as Peter Hujar and Howard Brookner. I wondered, why were such close friends never previously mentioned in the text, why were the lives of such dear departed friends not celebrated in Giorno's memoir? Instead he focuses on the biggest names he can find, and dwells on them—and tries to make a point about THEIR egos.
When Burroughs dies, Giorno laments that almost everyone from the "golden age of promiscuity" had died, yet at that point the dancer Steve Paxton, and the artists Robert Rauschenberg and Jasper Johns were all still alive, and in fact two of these three have outlived Giorno himself.
There is an element of spiritual practice which is purely performative, and this feeds the ego—look at me, meditating on the sand dunes at dawn, look at me being such a good buddhist, look at me with my famous teacher, look at me telling you how skillfully I influenced William Burroughs's spirit after he died. Also cringe inducing were Giorno's descriptions of his writing process: taking speed and then working really hard on a poem for hours. HOURS!
A tangential figure in the lives of many much more famous men, in this memoir Giorno tries to promote himself as a central figure. Somehow I wanted more from him, to see him as the star in his own life, although when he described his work as ground-breaking or a reading in Paris as masterful, I certainly wanted less of his ego. What was his aspiration here, with this memoir? We see what was realized, but to what did John Giorno aspire? If one considers the element of projection, one might conclude that Giorno was trying to cement his own legacy as a "Great Demon King."
September 29, 2020
Published posthumously, “Great Demon Kings: A Memoir of Poetry, Art, Sex, Death and Enlightenment” (2020) is a thoroughly captivating and entertaining account of gay culture in the Lower Manhattan literary and art scene that spanned from the 1950’s to the 1990’s. The author, John Giorno (1936-2019) was not famous man during his lifetime; though for decades worked on this book, and kept meticulous records of his famous friends and lovers, poetry, art, and spirituality—his work will undoubtedly inspire generations to come.
As a teen, Giorno was enthralled and greatly influenced by the talent of Dylan Thomas (1914- 53) after attending two of his live poetry readings in NYC (1951), and resolved to become a writer/poet. During his formal education at Colombia University, he rebelled against the status quo to become a doctor, lawyer, businessman, or academic professional, and also learned more about his place in the (underground) Gay culture. During this time, Giorno was brutalized by an incident of violence and left unconscious on the steps of the University campus. After college he was awarded a fellowship in in the Iowa Writers Workshop after “Portrait of A Boy” appeared in the Arizona Quarterly (1957).
Giorno was introduced to Andy Warhol (1928-87) on October 31, 1962, though didn’t become a part of his inner circle until 1963. The details of Warhol’s commercial art, celebrity appeal, friends, associates, happenings and other highlights of Giorno’s intimate relationships with Warhol and other famous lovers (Bob Rauschenberg, William Burroughs, Jasper Johns) were extensively detailed in the book. Giorno was featured in Warhol’s avant-garde production “Sleep” (1964), he would later sell a valuable gift from Warhol to finance a trip to India to study Buddhism.
The sexual revolution began in the 1960’s-- as traditional American social and cultural norms and attitudes noticeably began to change. Giorno was a handsome desirable man with a “voracious sexual appetite” who relished anonymous sex with “abandon” between consenting adults. On occasion, these encounters occurred in sex clubs, men’s restrooms and other public places. Giorno was totally shocked when he didn’t become infected with AIDS/HIV as he mourned this tragedy and loss of many friends and countless others that died from the epidemic. In conjunction with his non-profit Giorno Poetry Systems he began the AID’S Treatment Project (1984) that served many in need.
As a very generous man, Giorno freely gave his poetry away, handing mimeographed copies in streets of NYC, or with Dial-A- Poem (1968) to inspire callers, he refused to profit on the 1-900 prefix as the chat and dating lines increased in popularity. Eventually Giorno would sponsor selected holy men that traveled from abroad to educate and enlighten other Americans; his philosophical studies of Buddhism may have saved him from the ravages of alcohol and drug use that affected many people in his community and generation.
John Giorno was married to Swiss born multi- media and land artist Ugo Rondinone (1964-). “I Love John Giorno” was Rondinone’s celebratory multi-room exhibit that debuted in 2015 at multiple locations throughout NYC. **With thanks and appreciation to Farrar, Straus, Giroux Publishing via NetGalley for the DDC for the purpose of review.
As a teen, Giorno was enthralled and greatly influenced by the talent of Dylan Thomas (1914- 53) after attending two of his live poetry readings in NYC (1951), and resolved to become a writer/poet. During his formal education at Colombia University, he rebelled against the status quo to become a doctor, lawyer, businessman, or academic professional, and also learned more about his place in the (underground) Gay culture. During this time, Giorno was brutalized by an incident of violence and left unconscious on the steps of the University campus. After college he was awarded a fellowship in in the Iowa Writers Workshop after “Portrait of A Boy” appeared in the Arizona Quarterly (1957).
Giorno was introduced to Andy Warhol (1928-87) on October 31, 1962, though didn’t become a part of his inner circle until 1963. The details of Warhol’s commercial art, celebrity appeal, friends, associates, happenings and other highlights of Giorno’s intimate relationships with Warhol and other famous lovers (Bob Rauschenberg, William Burroughs, Jasper Johns) were extensively detailed in the book. Giorno was featured in Warhol’s avant-garde production “Sleep” (1964), he would later sell a valuable gift from Warhol to finance a trip to India to study Buddhism.
The sexual revolution began in the 1960’s-- as traditional American social and cultural norms and attitudes noticeably began to change. Giorno was a handsome desirable man with a “voracious sexual appetite” who relished anonymous sex with “abandon” between consenting adults. On occasion, these encounters occurred in sex clubs, men’s restrooms and other public places. Giorno was totally shocked when he didn’t become infected with AIDS/HIV as he mourned this tragedy and loss of many friends and countless others that died from the epidemic. In conjunction with his non-profit Giorno Poetry Systems he began the AID’S Treatment Project (1984) that served many in need.
As a very generous man, Giorno freely gave his poetry away, handing mimeographed copies in streets of NYC, or with Dial-A- Poem (1968) to inspire callers, he refused to profit on the 1-900 prefix as the chat and dating lines increased in popularity. Eventually Giorno would sponsor selected holy men that traveled from abroad to educate and enlighten other Americans; his philosophical studies of Buddhism may have saved him from the ravages of alcohol and drug use that affected many people in his community and generation.
John Giorno was married to Swiss born multi- media and land artist Ugo Rondinone (1964-). “I Love John Giorno” was Rondinone’s celebratory multi-room exhibit that debuted in 2015 at multiple locations throughout NYC. **With thanks and appreciation to Farrar, Straus, Giroux Publishing via NetGalley for the DDC for the purpose of review.
February 28, 2021
In John Giorno's Great Demon Kings I find a kindred spirit: a man who finds himself constantly drawn to the fame of others, learning as he goes along.
Giorno's life story is a tapestry woven through the deeply emotional, romantic relationships he had with the great men around him: Andy Warhol, Bob Rauschenberg, Jasper Johns, Tibetan lamas, and, most importantly, William Burroughs. Giorno spent time loving and making love with each one and through these relationships came to a deeper understanding of himself and his work: reaching enlightenment. Great Demon Kings is Giorno's memoir of his life demolishing poetry and reconciling the ways it can bring us to new sensory experiences. It's odd then that as sensual and committed to sensation as Giorno was when he lived, that upon his death he had found enlightenment beyond sensuality.
In many ways, Great Demon Kings is just another memoir about 60s and 70s New York by an artist renowned for his art, but in other ways its a story about the demons that populate our lives and learning to love them and eventually let them go.
Giorno's life story is a tapestry woven through the deeply emotional, romantic relationships he had with the great men around him: Andy Warhol, Bob Rauschenberg, Jasper Johns, Tibetan lamas, and, most importantly, William Burroughs. Giorno spent time loving and making love with each one and through these relationships came to a deeper understanding of himself and his work: reaching enlightenment. Great Demon Kings is Giorno's memoir of his life demolishing poetry and reconciling the ways it can bring us to new sensory experiences. It's odd then that as sensual and committed to sensation as Giorno was when he lived, that upon his death he had found enlightenment beyond sensuality.
In many ways, Great Demon Kings is just another memoir about 60s and 70s New York by an artist renowned for his art, but in other ways its a story about the demons that populate our lives and learning to love them and eventually let them go.
February 6, 2024
This was just a blast. Giorno is ridiculous, but also -- what a life! Last year MoMA had a small exhibit of Giorno's Dial-a-Poem project, and several months back Patti Smith mentioned Dial-a-Poem in one of her mesmerizing stories from the stage. My son and I also had a lengthy discussion of Andy Warhol's Sleep (for those who have not seen it, it is 5 hours of John Giorno sleeping.) All this is to say he has been on my mind. I was not aware this book existed until last year, but as soon as I learned of its existence, in the midst of all the Giorno references in my life, I put it on the short TBR. What a good choice.
For anyone interested in the mid-20th NYC art world this is a must-read. Giorno waxes nostalgic on the "golden age of promiscuity" and he banged most anyone who was anyone. He knew everyone and had sexual encounters and/or lengthy relationships with Andy Warhol, Robert Rauschenberg, Allen Ginsburg, Jack Keroac, William Burroughs, Jasper Johns and others (some without the widely known brand names of those mentioned here, but many of who were very important to art history.) In truth this is not my favorite artistic epoch. Burroughs had some real antisocial personality disorder hallmarks and Ginsburg was a pedophile, and I, for aesthetic reasons rather than their unappealing personal choices, find their work to be unadulterated shit. True story, I once stepped on a Rauschenberg installation at MoMA and set off all the alarms because I thought it was just a pile of shipping packaging someone had not disposed of yet. Concept alone is not art, the concept needs to be well executed. Warhol and Jasper Johns made things pretty to look at, (whether it is art is in the eye of the beholder), and effectively shattered the barriers between iconography and art (or maybe popular movements and fine art.) I am not sure we were not better off with the barrier, but I also cop to being super comfortable considering myself as a member of the cultural elite. (I can't say if anyone else considers me to be in that club, but it is one I am happy to pay my dues to.) All that said, it is hard to argue that these people were not interesting, and they unquestionably moved art forward with good and bad results. Reading this it appears they were all hatched in some Area 51 facility and it is clear they all brought unique visions to the world. This is as good a chronicle as I have ever read of an artistically fecund time, one that changed the larger society, and it is entertaining as hell. Ridiculous? Yes, frequently, but compelling and well-written.
I don't usually include trigger warnings, but if you think you will be traumatized by reading descriptions of the specific sensations of penetrating the assholes or the unique taste of the cum of Rauschenberg, Burroughs, et al, take a pass. Ditto if drug use bugs you. There is a lot of both. Also if you don't want to read about ushering Burroughs through the Bardo, you don't want to read this -- there is a lot of Eastern Mysticism lite running through the second half of the book that might be problematic for Buddhists and Atheists. Otherwise, have at it!
For anyone interested in the mid-20th NYC art world this is a must-read. Giorno waxes nostalgic on the "golden age of promiscuity" and he banged most anyone who was anyone. He knew everyone and had sexual encounters and/or lengthy relationships with Andy Warhol, Robert Rauschenberg, Allen Ginsburg, Jack Keroac, William Burroughs, Jasper Johns and others (some without the widely known brand names of those mentioned here, but many of who were very important to art history.) In truth this is not my favorite artistic epoch. Burroughs had some real antisocial personality disorder hallmarks and Ginsburg was a pedophile, and I, for aesthetic reasons rather than their unappealing personal choices, find their work to be unadulterated shit. True story, I once stepped on a Rauschenberg installation at MoMA and set off all the alarms because I thought it was just a pile of shipping packaging someone had not disposed of yet. Concept alone is not art, the concept needs to be well executed. Warhol and Jasper Johns made things pretty to look at, (whether it is art is in the eye of the beholder), and effectively shattered the barriers between iconography and art (or maybe popular movements and fine art.) I am not sure we were not better off with the barrier, but I also cop to being super comfortable considering myself as a member of the cultural elite. (I can't say if anyone else considers me to be in that club, but it is one I am happy to pay my dues to.) All that said, it is hard to argue that these people were not interesting, and they unquestionably moved art forward with good and bad results. Reading this it appears they were all hatched in some Area 51 facility and it is clear they all brought unique visions to the world. This is as good a chronicle as I have ever read of an artistically fecund time, one that changed the larger society, and it is entertaining as hell. Ridiculous? Yes, frequently, but compelling and well-written.
I don't usually include trigger warnings, but if you think you will be traumatized by reading descriptions of the specific sensations of penetrating the assholes or the unique taste of the cum of Rauschenberg, Burroughs, et al, take a pass. Ditto if drug use bugs you. There is a lot of both. Also if you don't want to read about ushering Burroughs through the Bardo, you don't want to read this -- there is a lot of Eastern Mysticism lite running through the second half of the book that might be problematic for Buddhists and Atheists. Otherwise, have at it!
September 28, 2020
John Giorno (1936-2019) was a poet, performance artist and founder of Giorno Poetry Systems and long-time member of the Lower Manhattan art scene. He was also an AIDS activist and Tibetan Buddhist. He has been widely published, his work exhibited at The Museum Of Modern Art and other institutions. He appeared in the Ron Mann documentary film Poetry In Motion (1982) alongside the likes of William S. Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, Jim Carroll, Christopher Dewdney, Michael Ondaatje, John Cage, Tom Waits, Diane DiPrima, Amiri Baraka, Ted Berrigan, Michael McClure, and Anne Waldman. His memoir details his work and relationships with Andy Warhol, Robert Rauschenberg, Jasper Johns, William S. Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, and others. A unique background look at the New York art scene. - BH.
March 9, 2022
Absolutely adored. The most salacious memoir I’ve ever read. Which, I guess is to be expected- this is John Giorno we’re talking about! When the subtitle of this book says “a memoir of poetry, sex, art, death, and enlightenment” it MEANS you’re gonna GET poetry, sex, art, death, and enlightenment.
As a fantastic of New York in the 1960s/70s this was very my ish, and it’s truly miraculous to see this all captured and rendered by Giorno with such wisdom and truth. It’s the golden age of promiscuity! Everyone was gay, f*cking, high as hell, and severely depressed. We love to see it!
This culminates in something really divine- an approach to death that I don’t think we see enough. Tranquil and embracing.
Love. Can’t wait to dive into his poetry more. Put some respect on his name!!!!
As a fantastic of New York in the 1960s/70s this was very my ish, and it’s truly miraculous to see this all captured and rendered by Giorno with such wisdom and truth. It’s the golden age of promiscuity! Everyone was gay, f*cking, high as hell, and severely depressed. We love to see it!
This culminates in something really divine- an approach to death that I don’t think we see enough. Tranquil and embracing.
Love. Can’t wait to dive into his poetry more. Put some respect on his name!!!!
March 23, 2020
A window into the creative ferment of 1960s and 1970s NYC, through Giorno’s relationships with Warhol, Gysin, Rauschenberg, Johns and Burroughs, and his friendships with countless others. I was a bit skeptical at first but eventually won over by Giorno’s infinite tenderness, his enthusiastic openness to the full range of human experience and his relentless pursuit of “bliss and great clarity”. The memoir ends with a devastatingly vulnerable, candid, and liberating realization: “I believe and feel in a soft way that I have lived a failed life because all my accomplishments were based on the force of my ego. I have one more really important thing to do, and that is to die. I hope I do it right, after doing meditation for more than fifty years.”
February 18, 2021
Surprisingly disappointing autobiography, considering the players, by art groupie/poet John Giorno. On the surface what appears to be an interesting life doesn't come across on the page. The author hooked up with a lot of well known artists and writers and doesn't shy away from sexual details so if you want to know what it was like to fuck Burroughs or get blown by Warhol you can find out here, but there isn't much else considering the creative minds involved which left me feeling that Giorno wasn't much more than a popular fuck boy that got passed around back in the day. He did come up with Dial-a Poem and was the star of Warhol's Sleep. I had to quit it about 2/3rds through.
May 23, 2020
Did I need to have William S. Burroughs' dick described in vivid detail? Maybe not. But I also appreciate that Giorno didn't neuter all the talented men he came into contact with — both sexually and intellectually. This is the most unvarnished account of gay New York City in the '60s and '70s I've ever read.
April 15, 2025
Read this because it was a recommendation of the Dallas public library for poetry month- I’m not well versed on poetry or the arts in general, but I did enjoy learning about a time in NYC that will never happen again- I particularly enjoyed the Andy Warhol stories (maybe because he was the only person I had known before), but I have a moral issue with talking so deeply about people’s sex lives when people are dead and gone- and then it did go on a lot longer than I anticipated, but I enjoyed it
August 21, 2020
I am no prude and I love reading about sex but here it had no humour, no sense of surprise. His relationship with Andy whom I knew a little bit was particularly depressing and sad. The best was his anonymous moment with Keith Haring. That was powerful. The last third of the book I found difficult to read. But there are moments of real tenderness. He must have been a great lover
April 5, 2021
Giorno a queer poet who seemingly knew everyone important in 20th-century poetry and fine art wrote his memoir which was released after his death. Filled with lots of gossipy and salacious details about his affairs with Andy Warhol, Robert Rauschenberg, Jasper Johns and William Burroughs, to name only a few, the book is a fun filled romp through Giorno's sex life. In order find peace in himself he was one of the early Westerners to adopt a form of Tibetan Buddhism making for a really fascinating life. The book as a memoir is written in a light, breezy manner with some beautiful poetic turns of phrase making for an easy and fun read.
"As a teenager, I received all my spiritual training from reading great novels and poetry. I read Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Beckett, Jean Genet, Proust, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Virginia Woolf, Joseph Conrad, Emily Dickinson, Faulkner, Walt Whitman, Gertrude Stein, and T.S. Eliot. They said, in a nutshell, that one was doomed in a world bound by ignorance, and the only way to liberation was through love and sex, pure transcendent desire, and that always ended in disaster. Everything ended in suffering." 6
"I really fell in love with Brion. I was at my sexual peak, and the LSD blew me open. He was the first one I loved with such vastness and abandon. I was still young and not yet formed, and Brion had my body and soul. He was a powerful psychic influence, blissfully and brutally. He imprinted me, political and spiritually radicalized me, and showed me a world of magic. He introduced me to so many possibilities, like empowerments, opening and enabling me." 128
"The great thing about anonymous sex is that you don't bring your private life or personal world into it-it's just purse sex with abandon between consenting men. No politics, and inhibiting concepts, no closed rules or fixed responses. It's spontaneous." 306
"A demon was an ordinary being who was very angry, from being deeply hurt. This person died with great anger and suffering, and in the hands and rebirth was more angry and suffered more from it; in each of their successive lives, the consciousness was more and more angry, which caused more suffering, until this being was so distorted, it frightened everyone. People ran away. This caused more suffering, until this being became what was called a demon. And everyone wanted to destroy this person, kill, subdue, annihilate. A demon suffered more, and so needed more love and compassion, because underneath the anger and suffering was a very tender being, infinitely gentle; and inside this was something even more deeply hurt; and still further beneath was a consciousness that was more soft and vulnerable, and total openness." 317
"Dying is a most terrifying experience-frightening beyond anything you can imagine. Hurricanes of fear and tornadoes of doubt rip the mind. Everything is lost, no friends and protection. It's similar to entering a dense darkness, falling down a deep precipice, drowning in the ocean, being swept away by the great force of your karma. This is true for everyone, except great meditation masters and totally enlightened beings." 327
In this section of the book, Giorno talks about helping William Burroughs' spirit to find peace after his death. He told the friend who was with Burroughs' body to allow it to be at peace for as long as possible for the spirit to find its own way. He talks how consciousness searches for a way out through one of the holes or chakras: ear, nose, mouth, asshole or the crown of the head. He also believed the bed of the dead person should remain untouched for at least 3 days to allow the energy to find its place.
"As a teenager, I received all my spiritual training from reading great novels and poetry. I read Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Beckett, Jean Genet, Proust, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Virginia Woolf, Joseph Conrad, Emily Dickinson, Faulkner, Walt Whitman, Gertrude Stein, and T.S. Eliot. They said, in a nutshell, that one was doomed in a world bound by ignorance, and the only way to liberation was through love and sex, pure transcendent desire, and that always ended in disaster. Everything ended in suffering." 6
"I really fell in love with Brion. I was at my sexual peak, and the LSD blew me open. He was the first one I loved with such vastness and abandon. I was still young and not yet formed, and Brion had my body and soul. He was a powerful psychic influence, blissfully and brutally. He imprinted me, political and spiritually radicalized me, and showed me a world of magic. He introduced me to so many possibilities, like empowerments, opening and enabling me." 128
"The great thing about anonymous sex is that you don't bring your private life or personal world into it-it's just purse sex with abandon between consenting men. No politics, and inhibiting concepts, no closed rules or fixed responses. It's spontaneous." 306
"A demon was an ordinary being who was very angry, from being deeply hurt. This person died with great anger and suffering, and in the hands and rebirth was more angry and suffered more from it; in each of their successive lives, the consciousness was more and more angry, which caused more suffering, until this being was so distorted, it frightened everyone. People ran away. This caused more suffering, until this being became what was called a demon. And everyone wanted to destroy this person, kill, subdue, annihilate. A demon suffered more, and so needed more love and compassion, because underneath the anger and suffering was a very tender being, infinitely gentle; and inside this was something even more deeply hurt; and still further beneath was a consciousness that was more soft and vulnerable, and total openness." 317
"Dying is a most terrifying experience-frightening beyond anything you can imagine. Hurricanes of fear and tornadoes of doubt rip the mind. Everything is lost, no friends and protection. It's similar to entering a dense darkness, falling down a deep precipice, drowning in the ocean, being swept away by the great force of your karma. This is true for everyone, except great meditation masters and totally enlightened beings." 327
In this section of the book, Giorno talks about helping William Burroughs' spirit to find peace after his death. He told the friend who was with Burroughs' body to allow it to be at peace for as long as possible for the spirit to find its own way. He talks how consciousness searches for a way out through one of the holes or chakras: ear, nose, mouth, asshole or the crown of the head. He also believed the bed of the dead person should remain untouched for at least 3 days to allow the energy to find its place.
February 15, 2021
Hey, add this number to your phone and call it frequently.
641.793.8122
That's Dial-a-Poem. That's probably the association most people have in their heads when John Giorno is mentioned.
I really enjoyed this autobiography, but I felt sad for Giorno. I just wish he had focused more on his own poetry in this book instead of pretty much writing himself out of the story in favor of telling us how many famous people he knew, seduced, worshiped, hated, etc. It's like he assumes from the start, "Well, you don't want to hear about me." Yes, John. I do! This is your autobiography. Because I really love so much of Giorno's poetry. I loved seeing him perform these very confrontational pieces he wrote. I loved feeling Buddhist ideas grow in his poetry as he got older. I loved the way his words would pull the carpet out from under you and leave you falling into death.
But this is still a fascinating read. He really wants to be bare. I think he guessed by the end he might have suffered from the starfucker syndrome a little too much. I think it hurt him. I mean it helped him pay the bills, I'm sure. And I think some of his devotions and love for other writers were genuine. I just wish he would have isolated himself a little more so that we might have even more poetry written by him. Because there was something wonderful in the way his poetry needled the listener. It's a bit like aggressive therapy. I'll miss that.
On a side note, his books are exceedingly hard to find! I don't know if they were all published in small editions or if it's a matter of a rabid collector base, but you have to keep your eyes out constantly to snag the poetry. It's always worth it though. Once you've seen or heard him read, you can never not hear that wildly gyrating voice of his. It was sui generis.
641.793.8122
That's Dial-a-Poem. That's probably the association most people have in their heads when John Giorno is mentioned.
I really enjoyed this autobiography, but I felt sad for Giorno. I just wish he had focused more on his own poetry in this book instead of pretty much writing himself out of the story in favor of telling us how many famous people he knew, seduced, worshiped, hated, etc. It's like he assumes from the start, "Well, you don't want to hear about me." Yes, John. I do! This is your autobiography. Because I really love so much of Giorno's poetry. I loved seeing him perform these very confrontational pieces he wrote. I loved feeling Buddhist ideas grow in his poetry as he got older. I loved the way his words would pull the carpet out from under you and leave you falling into death.
But this is still a fascinating read. He really wants to be bare. I think he guessed by the end he might have suffered from the starfucker syndrome a little too much. I think it hurt him. I mean it helped him pay the bills, I'm sure. And I think some of his devotions and love for other writers were genuine. I just wish he would have isolated himself a little more so that we might have even more poetry written by him. Because there was something wonderful in the way his poetry needled the listener. It's a bit like aggressive therapy. I'll miss that.
On a side note, his books are exceedingly hard to find! I don't know if they were all published in small editions or if it's a matter of a rabid collector base, but you have to keep your eyes out constantly to snag the poetry. It's always worth it though. Once you've seen or heard him read, you can never not hear that wildly gyrating voice of his. It was sui generis.
May 4, 2021
Memoirs of a starf#cker.
At first I kind of liked this book, but it left a bad taste in my mind. The weird way he dealt with Burroughs death, and the details of having sex with him, and other famous people was too much. I don't mind explicit description, but it's the way he described it. Also his "I am enlightenment, and you're not" is of putting. He says death is horrible and scary for EVERYONE, unless you are "enlighten,wich is bullshit. It sure helps, but who is he to say this? Well, a demon king with the biggest ego I have ever seen, and it shows in his writing. However there are some great stories, and it's still a interesting read.
At first I kind of liked this book, but it left a bad taste in my mind. The weird way he dealt with Burroughs death, and the details of having sex with him, and other famous people was too much. I don't mind explicit description, but it's the way he described it. Also his "I am enlightenment, and you're not" is of putting. He says death is horrible and scary for EVERYONE, unless you are "enlighten,wich is bullshit. It sure helps, but who is he to say this? Well, a demon king with the biggest ego I have ever seen, and it shows in his writing. However there are some great stories, and it's still a interesting read.
June 19, 2021
An overwhelming and triumphant memoir of art and sex and the opening (and subsequent closing) of the realm of the possible in postwar America. Mr. Giorno wrote with such incredible energy that after reading the first quarter I entered a sort of manic state. Also he has a very solid grasp of Buddhism, which I appreciate. Also he met the dalai lama with a 14 year old Uma Thurman? And had sex with Andy Warhol, William Burroughs, Keith Haring, Jasper Johns, Bob Rauschenberg and Alan Ginsburg? Among many others? Anyway this memoir is SPICY and absolutely bursting at the seams. Absolutely my favorite read this year.
October 24, 2020
For the two years I lived in Cambridge—1991-93, while my wife was in Divinity School—I was in bookstore heaven. It seems strange to say nowadays, when bookstores barely exist. There was the Harvard Coop, Harvard Bookstore, and Wordsworth, all in close proximity, and down in Boston there was a huge and well stocked Waterstone[1]. But one of my favorites was a small gay bookstore downtown, across from the public library, called Glad Day.
It was a hangout, maybe even a cruising place, for gay men. It included some porn. But it also had an incredible selection of books by gay authors, some of whom you might not have realized were gay. It was a place that stocked all the books of a given author, Gore Vidal, let’s say, or Somerset Maugham (they actually had a better selection of Reynolds Price than most Southern bookstores). It was an amazing place to browse, because—unlike the other stores—you had the feeling the titles were chosen by a human being, who was stocking exactly what he wanted.
I liked gay literature because it acknowledged that sex was a vital and important part of life, part of one’s personal liberation. I had just published The Autobiography of My Body, a novel that took that as a premise, and I was glad to frequent a place where other people had the same values.
It was there that I found the Gay Sunshine Interviews, which went into as much detail with writers about their work as the Paris Review interviews, but also included their sex lives. They were more like conversations than interviews, gossipy as hell. The first volume included Allen Ginsberg, Gore Vidal, Christopher Isherwood, a whole host of my favorites. And it was the first place I ever ran into the name John Giono, a poet who had published a book entitled Cancer in My Left Ball (talk about an unforgettable title), and whose interview, especially in terms of his sex life, was astonishing. He also practiced Tibetan Buddhism, and I had just begun my Buddhist practice.
Giono was a Pop poet, associated more in his life with artists than with other writers (though he eventually grew close to William Burroughs, living in the same building and having meals with him), and he became quite interested in—and apparently adept at—performing his poetry in a variety of ways. (Among other people, he enlisted Bob Moog, who helped him use the Moog Synthesizer.) I don’t know his standing in the world of poetry, or if he even has one (though he did teach for a while at the Naropa Institute, along with Ginsberg and Ann Waldman). But as a figure in the New York art scene, he was a kind of gay Zelig. He showed up everywhere. And if that world interests you, beginning in the early sixties in New York, you will delight in this book.
Here’s a list of the men he slept with, most of them as lovers for a period of time: Andy Warhol, Robert Rauschenberg, Jasper Johns, William Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, Keith Haring. (Fun fact: he was the protagonist in the Andy Warhol movie Sleep. He was the sleeper.) He also had a promiscuous sex life where he slept around, though he doesn’t talk a lot about it (except that’s how he had sex with Keith Haring, in a bathroom in the subway station[2]. Haring later showed up at a party at his house, and Giono said, Hey wait a minute, don’t I know this guy?). And if you’re interested in these people, and want to know their penis size, and what they did in bed, this is the book for you. That was what astonished me about the Gay Sunshine Interviews. They regarded such details as completely relevant.
I must admit that I grew a little tired of Giono’s accounts of sex (I must be getting old). And not just sex, but extremes of drinking and drug taking, late nights, hangovers lasting far into the next day. When Giono and Burroughs lived in the same building, the cocktail hour began rather early, I believe it was 3:30, and the stiff drinks they both had were accompanied by multiple joints, while Giono cooked an elaborate meal (assuming he could still see). Burroughs was not a Buddhist, but apparently had a strong interest in the human mind; he was the companion Giono found most fascinating. The truth is that for most of his life Giono was the other guy, the guy who showed up with Warhol or Rauschenberg and was introduced as a young poet. He didn’t seem to resent that role. He was glad to be at the party.
Giono was a young man when China invaded Tibet; he was part of the Free Tibet movement and was always interested in the country and in its religion. When he finally decided to study it, he actually traveled to India and studied with the lamas who had fled there, including his primary teacher, Dudjom Rinpoche. He engaged in vigorous and strenuous practice, most of which would have been too much for the average Westerner, but he threw himself into it and continued to practice for the rest of his life. He went on month-long retreats once or twice a year, had a vigorous daily practice. He said he awoke at 5:30 (in the old days he wouldn’t have gone to bed yet), stretched and had coffee and began meditating at 6:00, practiced until 9:00 AM. I don’t know a lot of people as dedicated as that.
I was a little surprised when the drinking, drugs, and all the sex continued. I understand the mindset of gay men of his generation: gay life had been repressed when they were young, and they were going to throw off the traces and live the hedonistic life they all wanted. I was actually quite moved when he spoke of that bizarre encounter with Keith Haring in the subway restroom, and of Haring’s belief that sex was the best way to know another person, to actually become that person. Haring had HIV when they had that encounter, and later died of AIDS. Giono has no idea why he never got the virus like so many of his contemporaries. After all the drugs and drinking and a rather rich diet (he describes serving meals that included fettucini alfredo and filet mignon), he died in 2019, at the age of 82, of a heart attack. He had been troubled with heart problems only toward the end of his life. The man must have had a hell of a constitution.
One of the notices on Amazon describes this book as poorly written; I didn’t feel that way at all. It was apparently composed over the course of 25 years (?); I found the writing not exceptional but perfectly serviceable. And the spirit of the book, of a man who lived his life fully and just the way he wanted to, is wonderful. Buddhists assume that when one attains liberation, the desires will fall away (and maybe you won’t have to deal with hangovers that last into the afternoon). As I’ve felt with other Tibetan Buddhists, most notably Chogyam Trungpa (with whom Giono did retreats), I’m less surprised by all the sex, which seems like a form of ecstasy, than with the drugs and drinking, which seem to cloud the mind. But Giono’s Buddhist liberation was intertwined with his gay liberation, and he apparently found the life he wanted.
And Great Demon Kings is fun. It’s loaded with gossip. It’s irresistible.
[1]Where I went to a reading by and actually met the great Pittsburgh writer John Edgar Wideman.
[2] Giono’s habit, whenever he had to wait for the subway, was to pop into the bathroom and start having sex with somebody. If the subway came, he didn’t.
www.davidguy.org
It was a hangout, maybe even a cruising place, for gay men. It included some porn. But it also had an incredible selection of books by gay authors, some of whom you might not have realized were gay. It was a place that stocked all the books of a given author, Gore Vidal, let’s say, or Somerset Maugham (they actually had a better selection of Reynolds Price than most Southern bookstores). It was an amazing place to browse, because—unlike the other stores—you had the feeling the titles were chosen by a human being, who was stocking exactly what he wanted.
I liked gay literature because it acknowledged that sex was a vital and important part of life, part of one’s personal liberation. I had just published The Autobiography of My Body, a novel that took that as a premise, and I was glad to frequent a place where other people had the same values.
It was there that I found the Gay Sunshine Interviews, which went into as much detail with writers about their work as the Paris Review interviews, but also included their sex lives. They were more like conversations than interviews, gossipy as hell. The first volume included Allen Ginsberg, Gore Vidal, Christopher Isherwood, a whole host of my favorites. And it was the first place I ever ran into the name John Giono, a poet who had published a book entitled Cancer in My Left Ball (talk about an unforgettable title), and whose interview, especially in terms of his sex life, was astonishing. He also practiced Tibetan Buddhism, and I had just begun my Buddhist practice.
Giono was a Pop poet, associated more in his life with artists than with other writers (though he eventually grew close to William Burroughs, living in the same building and having meals with him), and he became quite interested in—and apparently adept at—performing his poetry in a variety of ways. (Among other people, he enlisted Bob Moog, who helped him use the Moog Synthesizer.) I don’t know his standing in the world of poetry, or if he even has one (though he did teach for a while at the Naropa Institute, along with Ginsberg and Ann Waldman). But as a figure in the New York art scene, he was a kind of gay Zelig. He showed up everywhere. And if that world interests you, beginning in the early sixties in New York, you will delight in this book.
Here’s a list of the men he slept with, most of them as lovers for a period of time: Andy Warhol, Robert Rauschenberg, Jasper Johns, William Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, Keith Haring. (Fun fact: he was the protagonist in the Andy Warhol movie Sleep. He was the sleeper.) He also had a promiscuous sex life where he slept around, though he doesn’t talk a lot about it (except that’s how he had sex with Keith Haring, in a bathroom in the subway station[2]. Haring later showed up at a party at his house, and Giono said, Hey wait a minute, don’t I know this guy?). And if you’re interested in these people, and want to know their penis size, and what they did in bed, this is the book for you. That was what astonished me about the Gay Sunshine Interviews. They regarded such details as completely relevant.
I must admit that I grew a little tired of Giono’s accounts of sex (I must be getting old). And not just sex, but extremes of drinking and drug taking, late nights, hangovers lasting far into the next day. When Giono and Burroughs lived in the same building, the cocktail hour began rather early, I believe it was 3:30, and the stiff drinks they both had were accompanied by multiple joints, while Giono cooked an elaborate meal (assuming he could still see). Burroughs was not a Buddhist, but apparently had a strong interest in the human mind; he was the companion Giono found most fascinating. The truth is that for most of his life Giono was the other guy, the guy who showed up with Warhol or Rauschenberg and was introduced as a young poet. He didn’t seem to resent that role. He was glad to be at the party.
Giono was a young man when China invaded Tibet; he was part of the Free Tibet movement and was always interested in the country and in its religion. When he finally decided to study it, he actually traveled to India and studied with the lamas who had fled there, including his primary teacher, Dudjom Rinpoche. He engaged in vigorous and strenuous practice, most of which would have been too much for the average Westerner, but he threw himself into it and continued to practice for the rest of his life. He went on month-long retreats once or twice a year, had a vigorous daily practice. He said he awoke at 5:30 (in the old days he wouldn’t have gone to bed yet), stretched and had coffee and began meditating at 6:00, practiced until 9:00 AM. I don’t know a lot of people as dedicated as that.
I was a little surprised when the drinking, drugs, and all the sex continued. I understand the mindset of gay men of his generation: gay life had been repressed when they were young, and they were going to throw off the traces and live the hedonistic life they all wanted. I was actually quite moved when he spoke of that bizarre encounter with Keith Haring in the subway restroom, and of Haring’s belief that sex was the best way to know another person, to actually become that person. Haring had HIV when they had that encounter, and later died of AIDS. Giono has no idea why he never got the virus like so many of his contemporaries. After all the drugs and drinking and a rather rich diet (he describes serving meals that included fettucini alfredo and filet mignon), he died in 2019, at the age of 82, of a heart attack. He had been troubled with heart problems only toward the end of his life. The man must have had a hell of a constitution.
One of the notices on Amazon describes this book as poorly written; I didn’t feel that way at all. It was apparently composed over the course of 25 years (?); I found the writing not exceptional but perfectly serviceable. And the spirit of the book, of a man who lived his life fully and just the way he wanted to, is wonderful. Buddhists assume that when one attains liberation, the desires will fall away (and maybe you won’t have to deal with hangovers that last into the afternoon). As I’ve felt with other Tibetan Buddhists, most notably Chogyam Trungpa (with whom Giono did retreats), I’m less surprised by all the sex, which seems like a form of ecstasy, than with the drugs and drinking, which seem to cloud the mind. But Giono’s Buddhist liberation was intertwined with his gay liberation, and he apparently found the life he wanted.
And Great Demon Kings is fun. It’s loaded with gossip. It’s irresistible.
[1]Where I went to a reading by and actually met the great Pittsburgh writer John Edgar Wideman.
[2] Giono’s habit, whenever he had to wait for the subway, was to pop into the bathroom and start having sex with somebody. If the subway came, he didn’t.
www.davidguy.org
November 11, 2022
when you lose the illusion
October 29, 2020
The defining trope of this narrative is Giorno’s recurring description of himself as a young poet meeting a famous man, having sex, forming a relationship and then being disappointed that people want to work with the young poet because of his famous partner. This plays out in his accounts of his relationships with Andy Warhol, Brion Gysin, Bob Rauschenberg, Jasper Johns and William Burroughs. The narrative pattern was so well established that one could not but be disappointed when Giorno met the Dalai Lama and had to make do with just giving him some porn. Had there been a sexual encounter with the Dalai Lama i would probably have given this four stars.
There is a lot to hold one’s interest in this book, but the section about Giorno’s collaboration with Bill Moog to achieve the layered complexity of his performance poems is particularly interesting, as is the background to the Dial-a-poem project. Anyone who has seen Giorno live or listened to his recordings will be aware of both the energy and the technique that goes into achieving his impact as a performer, but the intelligence that he put into long term collaboration with engineers make those performances possible is just as impressive.
There were also a couple of odd snippets that struck me - when describing a meeting with Clarice Rivers, Giorno writes of “her twilling Welsh accent” (p. 245). No idea what that word means in that context and can only find definitions that relate to cloth manufacture. The other curiosity was a reference to and description of Marietta Green, described as a friend of Allen Ginsberg, a Tibetan Buddhist and teacher of Tibetan mantras. This is clearly the same person known as Maretta Greer who chanted with Allen Ginsberg on the Fugs album ‘Tenderness Junction’, but i have never heard of her under the name Green previously. A lot about women around the Beat scene remains misty.
There is a lot to hold one’s interest in this book, but the section about Giorno’s collaboration with Bill Moog to achieve the layered complexity of his performance poems is particularly interesting, as is the background to the Dial-a-poem project. Anyone who has seen Giorno live or listened to his recordings will be aware of both the energy and the technique that goes into achieving his impact as a performer, but the intelligence that he put into long term collaboration with engineers make those performances possible is just as impressive.
There were also a couple of odd snippets that struck me - when describing a meeting with Clarice Rivers, Giorno writes of “her twilling Welsh accent” (p. 245). No idea what that word means in that context and can only find definitions that relate to cloth manufacture. The other curiosity was a reference to and description of Marietta Green, described as a friend of Allen Ginsberg, a Tibetan Buddhist and teacher of Tibetan mantras. This is clearly the same person known as Maretta Greer who chanted with Allen Ginsberg on the Fugs album ‘Tenderness Junction’, but i have never heard of her under the name Green previously. A lot about women around the Beat scene remains misty.
January 22, 2023
I did not know Giorno or his work as a poet, organizer, and general artworld cruiser, but was drawn inexplicably to this memoir. Giorni, determined in his youth to be a poet! a star! an inspiration!, fell into the arms of Andy Warhol and Steve Paxton and Bob Rauschenberg and Jasper Johns and William Burroughs and even an anonymous and incredibly steamy bathroom encounter with Keith Haring before Keith Haring was Keith Haring. This book upholds the maxim: you don’t want to hear from the superstar, you want to hear from the person who slept with the superstar.
Spending a weekend in New York City — my adult home — with this book was a gift. Walking through the East Village and LES, attending a show at LaMaMa, feeling the ghosts of my former selves, and all the legendary spirits who made NYC the city I yearned for from the prairie, and continue to yearn for. Giorno captures this palpable energy: to be in the place where things are happening and to capture as much of it as you can, preferably through sex and art. Giorno’s recognition of the fleeting nature of beauty and desire is particularly potent, the phrase “shooting gobs of hot white cum” occurs frequently — as it should!
Such a thoroughly enjoyable read and always a cherished and treasured experience to absorb the wisdom (and gossip) of an art world elder.
Spending a weekend in New York City — my adult home — with this book was a gift. Walking through the East Village and LES, attending a show at LaMaMa, feeling the ghosts of my former selves, and all the legendary spirits who made NYC the city I yearned for from the prairie, and continue to yearn for. Giorno captures this palpable energy: to be in the place where things are happening and to capture as much of it as you can, preferably through sex and art. Giorno’s recognition of the fleeting nature of beauty and desire is particularly potent, the phrase “shooting gobs of hot white cum” occurs frequently — as it should!
Such a thoroughly enjoyable read and always a cherished and treasured experience to absorb the wisdom (and gossip) of an art world elder.
January 11, 2021
John Giorno’s autobiography feels like a betrayal to me. A betrayal of all the folks he claims to have loved and then serves up here as “Demon Kings.” I feel that because Giorno was not a good enough poet to be remembered for what he wrote (the few examples he offers up in the book are ridiculous), he goes after the people who were more famous than he. Not a very enlightened approach for the good Buddhist he claims he is. His Giorno Poetry Systems along with his Dial-A-Poem WERE cultural achievements, but they would not have worked without his wide network of friends. He was the ultimate Star F*er and used his looks and charisma to forge relationships with people whom he thought would help him. It’s an impressive list--Andy Warhol, Robert Rauschenberg, Jasper Johns, William Burroughs, Paul Bowles, Allen Ginsberg, and Keith Haring (their subway bathroom sex scene is disturbing). He admits having sex with most of these people was creepy, but then why does he tell us all the details unless he's looking to humiliate them? And to a person, they are dead and cannot respond. While I admit to finding some of this fascinating, I ended up more repulsed than entertained. Read only if you have a strong stomach.
June 23, 2023
wow! this book blew my mind. My time in NYC overlapped with John Giorno's and we had crossed paths on a few occasions. I regret not taking advantage of those moments to be in his presence. I didn't know or appreciate in my late teens the import of his work from Dial-a-Poem to the poetry concerts to the prolific record label and how those efforts would influence and shape poetry, the media and the Internet today.
It got off to a kind of slow start with long tales of moving from the bed of one iconic artist (Warhol, Rauschenberg, Johns) to the next, but as Giorno grows into his own fuller more authentic self, the book gathers steam and we follow him, not just as a muse and lover to other artists, to the brilliant and wildly under-appreciated genius and visionary that he was, with a beautiful and redemptive climax.
The book is a demanding, intriguing, salacious and triumphant read. Enjoy.
It got off to a kind of slow start with long tales of moving from the bed of one iconic artist (Warhol, Rauschenberg, Johns) to the next, but as Giorno grows into his own fuller more authentic self, the book gathers steam and we follow him, not just as a muse and lover to other artists, to the brilliant and wildly under-appreciated genius and visionary that he was, with a beautiful and redemptive climax.
The book is a demanding, intriguing, salacious and triumphant read. Enjoy.
March 7, 2021
I could not put this book down, but made myself because I wanted to try and roll it out and make it last. Giorno's ability to write such intimate and revealing details with complete detachment and non-judgement, reveals his commitment and practice of Buddhism, and his natural state of being-ness which seems to me as one who was absolutely present and understood his natural and complete-yet-evolving growth of self irregardless of societal norms, and ways of being. An incredible life he shares with a rare honesty. I loved this book. I loved feeling as-if I were with him as he regarded his experiences, exploits, loves, and in turn reminded me why I am an artist and seeker, especially as (currently) hitting the one-year mark with Covid duress.
January 16, 2021
Had a hard time with this one. Much of it feels like a long tabloid article, centered on the sex lives of famous artists, which has its own trash charm but wears thin quickly. For a poet, the writing is mostly utilitarian, and there's a tin ear for dialogue throughout. I think there's something here about reinserting your own narrative into comparably more famous ones that wrote you out, but it gets lost in anecdotes and ego and an unconvincing shift to more metaphysical matters in the last third. Nevertheless, I finished the whole thing and found parts of it fascinating because of the company kept. Would recommend to very specific audiences only.
September 10, 2020
For anyone who is a fan of the 1960s, poetry, Andy Warhol, and the history of Gay New York City. I wish John would have focused a bit more on his writing, reflections on his impact to the scene, as he spent a lot of time focused on the details of others. And although those other characters - Warhol, Rauschenberg, Burroughs - are fascinating, I was hoping to learn more about Giorno. Unless, is he just a sum of parts - a collection of experiences from this other 'Demon Kings'? Nevertheless, a fascinating, scintillating read from a dying breed.
September 15, 2020
An interesting life
The author’s friendships and romantic relationships with well known artists and writers was the basis for this being so interesting. The frank and proud tales of promiscuity were just part of this author’s philosophy of life. The later new age mind set got to be a bit much and I had to skim over a lot of that and skim over the detailed, long, drawn out and weird way he dealt with William Burroughs’ death. But overall, as an artist I felt this was a worthwhile read.
The author’s friendships and romantic relationships with well known artists and writers was the basis for this being so interesting. The frank and proud tales of promiscuity were just part of this author’s philosophy of life. The later new age mind set got to be a bit much and I had to skim over a lot of that and skim over the detailed, long, drawn out and weird way he dealt with William Burroughs’ death. But overall, as an artist I felt this was a worthwhile read.
October 8, 2020
pretty interesting book about a poet who i knew nothing about prior to reading this and read a great review on this. I loved hearing about his creative process and spitiual journey. I will say that most of the book was about his sexual conquests and while pretty impressive ( a who's who of art and literature luminaries; warhol, raushenberg, jasper johns, Allen Ginsberg, William Burroughs, Keith Haring!) it did seem to get a little dishy. The chapter on Burroughs death was pretty amazing and powerful.
May 31, 2024
Individuals who are "cooked" are those deeply involved in a physiological process — Claude Lévi-Strauss , The Raw and the Cooked
Poetry and the Smoke Detector
Advanced technologies multiply human sensations. The smoke detector is a thinking device; it re-produces the "hatred of bad taste" in the same sense that the "slipper" is a "monument to the hatred of bending down" (Adorno, Minima Moralia). While some nights still pass us by insensate, the smoke detector interjects to remind us that John Giorno's work is a sacrifice in the traditional sense, "an unknown quantity of material [dinner] has been burnt in order to produce it." (Roberto Calasso, Ruin of Kasch) Fantastic dinners are always lurking in the background of Great Demon Kings, like the proverbial "woman behind every man's success." These are quite literally smoky affairs: "Usually, we [had great dinners where] I broiled the steak, and the fat would catch fire, filling the apartment with smoke. The steak would be charred outside and bloody raw inside, the french fries still frozen in the centers, and the peas overcooked. Cooking made such a mess. But it was such a joy, I was happy to do it. We had a good time." Such occasions straddle the border between what (probably) "tastes bad" and what the smoke detector is loudly calling "bad taste."
Adorno and Calasso both comment on the sedulous role of the burnt offering in the Sacrifice — the insubstantial (deathless) portion ascends to the heavens while the practitioner arrogates the physical portion to himself — forcing the Gods to enter into an exchange which, in the future, will be used to dominate them. We can draw an analogy to John Giorno, who is becoming what Lévi-Strauss would called a "cooked" being, i.e. deeply involved in the physiological process that is domestic housework. When Giorno cooks a (burnt) dinner for Andy Warhol or William Burroughs, one might say he's "burning up his talent" in the insubstantial progression of time. Such insubstantial accumulations are what Eileen Myles calls, "making a mountain of sleep." (a 'Working Life'). (A feminist-marxist critique has its entrée here in these well-worn ruts, but I'm saving it for another time). Perhaps it's remarkable that, as beneficiary of such circumstances, Warhol was able to make a Mountain of "Sleep" (1964) .
In fact, it's probably worth going a little further beyond wordplay (above) to investigate some important divergences between Giorno and Warhol. In this work, Giorno reports that Warhol once told him, "I'm going to stop painting. I want my paintings to sell for $25,000." (I had initially thought this was a reference to the phrase from Gertrude Stein, "Paintings are either worth $300 or $300,000," but I appear to have been mistaken.) This quote is perhaps off-base, since Warhol never really stopped painting, though it cuts through to his compulsion, at base, to ceaselessly accumulate Capital. John Giorno, as "Superstar" in Sleep (1964), did remarkably well for himself (on the scale of Warhol "Superstars" who mostly died in their early 20's), yet, while we're letting artists describe each other, Warhol's amusing story about the young talents who were burning up around him probably still applies: "A guy came over and said that he had the biggest cock in L.A., so I offered to sign it and [she] got so excited she leaned over to look at the cock and her hair caught fire in the flames of a candle—it was like instant punishment." (Pat Hackett, Autobiography of Warhol). (This story is so pithy I feel compelled to re-use it, recalling a famous phrase about the re-use of quotation: "One must be reduced to rack and ruin in order to be able to bear having the same ass shit twice" (de Sade, 120 Days of Sodom).) At a certain level, the moral of Warhol's story is correct: we are always being punished for our instincts — sometimes spectacularly.
It's remarkable how much Warhol's "productivity" contrasts with Giorno's "bad taste" in technology, which is always moving against the grain. Warhol's opus is characterized by use of the photograph, screen printing, and judicious use of film — riding a wave of zeitgeist — always after a "fungible" quality. Giorno, at the same time, is producing work that's totally insubstantial. His "syncopated poems" in which two vocal recordings are played simultaneously, are illegible on the page — as if by design. "Happenings" from the 1960's were recorded on tape decks (not the right technology) and are now totally lost. Recordings of his work, e.g. his appearance on Poetry in Motion (1982) become, paradoxically, erasures: written copies weren't kept for poems recorded on film. Even this book, Great Demon Kings, is almost unreadable due to aberrant use of technology — It contains so many digital photographs that the file can't be loaded to my e-reader. (This is a forgotten riddle from the Oedipal Sphinx: What book contains 300 pictures when it's closed but 0 when you open it — Answer: This one.) In this way, our author eludes quotation except in short phrases such as his routine euphemism for intercourse: "Making it." Though, in the sense that Giorno's disruptive use of technology is like a smoke detector sounding off during a poetry reading, he's doing the same thing that fire does to the burnt offering, i.e. "Unmaking it."
July 24, 2020
It was a fascinating read that opened a windows on the creative world of New York in '60s and ''70s.
I read a lot about John Giorno but I this is his first book I read and loved it.
I loved the tenderness and how well he describes the persons he got in touch and the experiences he lived.
It was an excellent read and I strongly recommend it.
Many thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for this ARC, all opinions are mine.
I read a lot about John Giorno but I this is his first book I read and loved it.
I loved the tenderness and how well he describes the persons he got in touch and the experiences he lived.
It was an excellent read and I strongly recommend it.
Many thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for this ARC, all opinions are mine.
March 25, 2022
A great poet of a hustler for fame as he writes himself? Whoever he was, this autobiography makes for an entertaining reading with a life spanning from the Beat Generation, through the sexual Revolution of the 60s and 70s, surviving unscathed the AIDS crisis, at least physically until his marriage to a younger man in the 2010s which he never thought would ever be possible. Fun is to be found in his honest (to say the least) description of his sexual prowesses with famous men.
November 30, 2020
Amazingly entertaining, inspiring, and eye opening written by and about a self proclaimed royal consort of the beat generation. Learned about the process of art, deepened my understanding of nyc and beat culture in the 50s 60s and 70s, and am glad to have learned of the life of the legendary john giorno. His name is so fun to say!
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