Astute readers of this blog o’ mine will have noticed something new along the extreme right hand sidebar – namely My Bad Adolescent Poetry. In 1970, at age 21, I had accrued enough cash to hand print up a few hundred copies of my poetry. The title of the collection was Prism Prisons – a god-awful yet appropriate name for the horny, angsty stuff it contained, which I’d written between the ages of 15 and 20.
I printed the body of the book on a Gestetner machine and had the cover (of my own design) printed by a Brandon company. I think the textured orange card was free and they just charged me for the printing. I sold a few, very few and the rest moldered away in our various garages over the decades until one fateful garbage day number 4 when Prism Prisons achieved its ultimate purpose, its destiny – landfill!
Alas, a few copies did manage to survive and, even though their location is a closely guarded secret, I, as author, poet, was able to liberate one copy, one precious…actually I kept four of them and they are on the bottom level of my bookshelf. As a lark, I will share my adolescent agonies with you on the new sidebar. I’ll change these frequently. If they get too stinky, please tell me and I’ll stop. Thank you, truthful reader. Be happy, Reid
Watch a DickTool Co video called Evidence of Winter to see what became of some copies of Prism Prisons.