on wedlock, pouring words, and the world's most brilliant man by the name of Charles.
interview with dennis of thevagabondking.
conducted by nicole delcore.
n: what are your opinions on the institution of marriage and how do you think it's changing? d: My parents were married for 20+ years before divorcing. In those twenty years there was some good times and some bad times. As a kid, I always thought that that was just the way it was, that that was how marriages work. But as time went on, I started to see the flaws in marriage. They’d stop talking, for weeks on end. There was no communication. They stayed in the marriage for the children. That’s a horrible by product of raising children. The trap of staying in it.
And the fact that homosexuals can’t get married legally is even more telling of the institution of marriage. Two people, willing to fight societies stigma’s head on, aren’t allowed to unite their love - ridiculous.
The only thing that’s changing about marriage is that the divorce rate is increasing every year.
n: what's your writing process? d: My process is very simple. I sit down. I think back to everything I have seen thus far in my day and search for something that is worthy of a story. I keep a small tablet of paper with me at all times. I do a lot of people watching during the day. I make notes. I give them back stories. Then I let that sit for a while.
I usually have spotify on and listen to music while I wait.
Usually the Foo Fighters or lately, I’ve been putting on the Mozart Symphony channel. And then I just let loose of all that’s hiding inside my mind. I don’t censor, edit or analyze the work.
Once it is out of me, it’s out of me.
n: do you think not editing has harmed or helped your work? d: I think it’s probably done both. I think a lot of the grammar snobs have lost what my writing is really about. I’ve never claimed to be a writer of beautiful words. My work is gritty, dirty, dark and raw. Editing it, I feel, would eliminate the aura that I’m trying to create with my words.
I don’t want to be remembered as the writer that wrote perfect stanzas. Whose structure was solid.
I want people to remember the story told.
n: generationally, where do you think your poetry fits in? d: If you look at my logo, it says heavy metal poetry. I’d like to think my poetry is a hybrid of beat/bukowski and twisted into a modernized outlaw poetry type style. That all sounds like a lot of fucking bullshit, right?
My writing doesn’t really fit in with poetry at all. I don’t rhyme, i don’t structure, I just write from my guts and my heart and my pain and my bottle.
It’s doubtful that I’ll be remembered as a writer in forty years. I’m an internet poet who writes good shit from time to time, but in the end, there’s no one really reading the words the way we used to read them.
n: what's your definition of the word obscene? d: Great question. I think obscene is vulgarity without reason. I think it’s physical abuse. I think it’s war. I think obscene is what you get when you lose sight of a vision.
n: what do you do for a living? d: I’m technically unemployed. I have what they call an “under the table” job, working with a band here in Illinois. I do their social media marketing. They’re currently shopping a CD in Nashville, having worked with a couple of Tim McGraw’s producers.
Other then that, I’m currently writing my second book and working on a new project called Rot Gut.
n: why do you value Bukowski so much? d: He validates what I already thought. I was writing like this before I’d ever heard of Bukowski. When I found him it was sort of an epiphany. All these years I’d hid my work thinking … I’d be committed if I shared what I wrote. Then, I find out that there’s this mother fucker making people crazy with similar shit.
The guy's a genius. Anyone that thinks other wise is still sucking on the tits of Walt Disney.
n: do you think you'll make a good father? d: I think i’ll be a fantastic father. I’m not going to be that father/parent that trips on the small details of life. I’m going to teach him or her what life is really about. I don’t believe in spoiling a child or buying its love.
There will be lots of reading and playing outside. And love.
n: better than your own was/is? d: My dad was always working when I was a kid. He worked two jobs so my mom wouldn’t have to work. So our relationship when I was younger was pretty nonexistent. He was always tired when he was home.
I never got to play catch with him enough. Maybe five times in my whole life.
But after I graduated and got past some issues, we became pretty good friends. I’d say best friends really. He’s my drinking buddy. We watch hockey games together and we poke fun at society. I have been very lucky with the father I received.
That said, he’s not a good communicator and as the years progress he’s getting sicker. He has C.O.P.D and I think the bitterness of dying is starting to flavor his personality.
It’s sad to watch.
n: how has watching him changed your own perception of death? d: It saddens me that people fear it so much, to be honest. I mean, we live with the fact that we’re going to die as soon as we become cognizant of what life is. I wish he’d look at these last moments and cherish them. It seems like a waste of life when you go into the end hating it.
I understand it’s probably not death that is bothering him or others in his shoes. I imagine it’s more the pain of the ailment and maybe I’m projecting my sadness into his pain and imagining his bitterness.
I know i’m going to die. The only fear of it I have is leaving Kristen in this world alone. I don’t fear what’s after this. I don’t fear the pain of death. It’s all over eventually.
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