Rob Kistner – Interviewed

I respond to five probing questions from Chesca Silva, aka Exskindiver.

Excellent questions Chesca! Responding to them made me think — and made me feel. Thank you for this experience!

1. You respect but are not quite moved by great masters because only a wholly original experience moves you. Tell us about one such experience.

I will tell you about three – one writing related, and one art related, and one music related.

First the writing experience. I was in San Francisco in 1969, there on a personal matter. My rock & roll band was going through a bout of in-fighting, and I was really frustrated with college as well. I was mentally exhausted from the band, from school, from living a generally wild life – it was the 60’s. I was deeply depressed.

I learned the poet Gary Snyder was going to read at Berkley. I was a huge fan of all the “beat” movement writers, though at that time I was not as familiar with Gary’s work – preferring the more edgy writers stuff like Kerouac and Ginsberg.

But I went. Riots ensued outside, near to where Gary was reading. He had just returned from Japan, and his son Kai was a new born. He was sharing a lot of interesting anecdotes. Very engaging. Then he read some of his work. He saved my life that night.

I heard the most amazing, most original, most beautiful poetic voice I had ever heard in my life. To this day a book of Gary’s poetry is on my desk. He is the reason I am a writer, a poet. There are great romantic poets, and realist poets, and poets who are considered masters – but Gary Snyder moved the core of my soul that night. I still can recall the feeling. That was a profound experience.

Second, the art moment. I love contemporary art and primitive art — always have, and I also am drawn to digital creation. Having been with Lucasfilm, I have seen some incredible CG art.

I always surfing the web, and so I was in 1998, when I came across a website entitled “It Goes Boing”, and my mind was blown. I spent an entire day and into the wee hours of the next morning, drilling down deeper and deeper into the art I saw that day.

The artists name was/is Ken Huff, and his creations are contemporary, they are primitive, and they are digital – all contained in art pieces the likes of which I’d never before seen, nor since. I still visit Ken’s site frequently. Amazing stuff – it sticks in my mind’s eye permanently.

Ken’s web address is still www.itgoesboing.com. Although he calls his site Organik Constructions now. Again, that was a wholly unique and original experience.

This last one is an evening of music that shifted forever how I hold music in my soul. December 1976, a month after my now deceased son Aaron was born. Weather was crappy, I was in Cleveland, Ohio talking to Henry LoConti, the owner of the Agora Ballroom, about getting my new band booked in his Columbus, Ohio club.

Henry asked if I wanted to stay and listen to the group that was playing that night. I said sure, I had casually listed to their stuff. The time came, the lights went down, and suddenly there were sounds, the likes of which I’d never heard before, coming from the stage, out of the darkness.

A single spot ignites and captures this slender figure, long straight dark hair, headband, hunched over an unusual looking bass guitar, rocking to his jazz riffing – I was stunned, mesmerized, as was the entire place. The buzz that was prevalent just before this dude started playing was totally gone – dead silent, save for this music of the heavens that was rolling and floating form the stage.

The miraculous musician was Jaco Pastorius, who had just joined the band that was playing that night – Weather Report. Music was reborn for me at that moment. I can still hear about 5 seconds of Jaco playing and I know immediately who it is. Jaco died in 1987 at the age of 35 — incredible loss to music, to the creative world period.

2. Please explain “Wise men suffer self.”

My haiku, from which that line was taken, dealt with the need many people have to be right, no matter the cost. In life, nobody wants to be wrong, to be considered foolish or unintelligent. It is human nature to argue our point to the bitter end. The problem with that is what it can cost you.

If you argue your correctness, to the point you alienate the person our group, with whom you are in discussion, you may well end up being ineffective with regard to the result you were seeking – even if you are right. It is ego, the self, which drives us in this incessant need to be right.

A wise man, if he is trying to convince or sway someone with whom he is in discussion, trying to bring about an important shift or change in a situation, will sacrifice his ego, “suffer” his “self”, for the sake of creating a change – being effective. He will do so even if right.

The foolish man will argue the point to death; perhaps even solicit acknowledgment from the other side that he was right — but lose the cooperation of the other side in the matter of the ‘big picture’. The fool wins the battle, but loses the war. The wise man will “suffer self”, to win war.

3. If you were to compare yourself to a piece of furniture, what would you be? Describe it.

I’d be a very comfortable contemporary chair. Clean tasteful lines, full profile, sturdy, nice aged leather, rich azure color; a chair that embraces and supports the person seated – that nurtures and promotes well-being.

4. What steps have you taken towards attaining peace regarding the abandonment you shared in your poem “Sentenced”?

I’ve stumbled forward, more than I’ve taken steps. There has been more than enough time that has passed, so the pain has subsided. What’s left is a kind of tugging on the soul, the heart — a feeling of incompleteness that rears its head from time to time.

One several occasions I began the process of discovering who my real parents were, especially my natural mother, but I always stopped.

I didn’t understand my hesitation in the early years, but I think I know now why I never carried through. The cold, practical truth is fear, fear that instead of making things better – it might make things worse.

I was already hurt badly by the abandonment, made even worse by a miserable ongoing experience with an adoptive mother. If in finding my natural mother, I was refused again – well, subconsciously I think I didn’t want to chance it. I didn’t know if I could bear that.

Now, so much time has gone by that I’m certain my natural birth parents are likely deceased. I may carry an effort of discovery all the way to completion in the future – I don’t know?

5. July 3rd is coming up. How were you able to allow your anger to settle? What helped you the most? What did not help?

Yes, July 3rd is coming. It is a bittersweet time because my daughter Jennifer was born on July 5th – so we have this very tangible yin yang thing we deal with.

In regard to how I let my anger settle over the death of my son Aaron – it wasn’t anything noble. I’d like to say I forgave the old man who fell asleep at the wheel and drove into Aaron, killing him. It would sound good if I could say I came to the realization that there is an after life, and I know that I will see Aaron again. Something like that would sound like resolution.

However, I did neither. I never did resolve the anger – it simply has dissipated to a large degree because of time. I was able to recover my sanity because I dearly love my wife and my two surviving children. They brought me back and gave me a solid reason to continue living and striving. Had they not been here, I would not be here – I’m certain of that.

I have also come to embrace sweet memories of Aaron. They bring me much joy and comfort. I can see a picture of him now and a good memory will surface, most of the time — not all. There are moments still today of profound sorrow. July 3rd is incredibly difficult, in the moments when I find myself alone. My family stays very close together on that day.

We also involve ourselves in the happiness of Jennifer’s approaching birthday – so that is very uplifting. We really care about each other as a family – we actually ‘like’ each other. I found, through my considerable life experience – not all families do.

My ongoing, long-term therapy for the abandonment issues, and the loss of child anguish, is my involvement in creativity; my writing, my art, my music, my ‘spoken word’ recording, and my design – that’s my soul food that can fill up the empty places.

What didn’t help at all was other people’s sympathy. I heard “I understand how you feel” so many times – and its bullshit! Unless you’ve had an 18-year-old son or daughter, killed by the carelessness of another human being, you had no fucking idea how I felt. They likely meant well, but that definitely did not work for me! Sorry about the language, but sometimes, no other word quite says it the same.

Well Chesca, there are the answers to your five questions. Probably a whole helluva lot more than you wanted, but you asked – and you knew I was a writer when you did. 😉

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