FOR THE ARTIST FORMERLY KNOWN AS GARY

(GARY APOSHIAN 1962-2007)


by Bradley Mason Hamlin



"There are two things in life worth pursuit, love and knowledge.
Any activity or action not grounded in either of the two is a waste of time."

-- Gary Aposhian


Some of the closest friends you have are the ones that cause you the most trouble. Gary Aposhian was like that. We met in 1992 in an alley in midtown Sacramento, just outside of a poetry reading called “Word Jam.”

He had beer; I had beer.

And an intense friendship followed.

He had just gotten into the Beats, Kerouac and the like, but I encouraged him to take a crack at Hemingway and Steinbeck first. He did that and Steinbeck became his favorite author. Gary was good like that, thirsty for the good stuff.

Good beer, good writing.

Of course we did tackle the Beats and be-bop jazz and argued what was art and what the hell wasn’t—all the while beating people over the head with Bukowski.

We were personally responsible, Gary and I along with a small energetic crew I called “the tribe,” for closing down at least four poetry readings I can think of, maybe more. The coffee shop proprietors couldn’t handle our collective energy. It was something rare, something you don’t know how special it really is until it’s gone from this world.

Gary moved from Sacramento to San Clemente and other Southern California locales and took up my teenage habit of surfing. I loved his stories about paddling out among the younger more skilled surf bums that weren’t exactly ready to accept Aposhian into their lineup, but they did. Gary had a charm about him, and he tried to call me out into those waves many times, but all we ever seemed to be able to pull off was a tidal wave of vodka.

Gary was a good man to drink with, most of the time, not always, but so it goes. He was also a fun man to create with and Gary and I created an awful lot of projects for his small publishing companies, including interviewing Linda Bukowski together, and I’m glad we did that, that something in writing might persist of the artistic side of Gary. He once called me and told me he was changing his name to “the artist formerly known as Gary.”

He was a funny, funny man.

He will be missed.

He will be remembered.

And if there’s a way for the spiritual essence that resides within us to survive beyond this physical world you can be damned sure Gary will haunt us all as much as possible, and I am definitely looking forward to that ongoing relationship with my friend and surrogate brother. We often called each other brother, when we were getting along, and various other colorful things when we weren’t. Our closest bond was our love for the written word--and Gary died on August 24, 2007 with a book in his hand. We should all be so lucky. And perhaps he’s reading these words even now, because they are for him, so I will end this simply by saying that I love you, Gary, and wish you eternal peace.


Bradley Mason Hamlin, August 29, 2007.



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