Peter Gizzi's Homage to Kevin Killian Published at Chicago Review

Co-editor, collaborator, and friend Peter Gizzi shares his fondest memories of Kevin Killian with readers of Chicago Review. "It’s hard to know where to start to say something in the wake of Kevin Killian’s passing," Gizzi writes. From there: 

I’ve spent the last week broken up knowing he was in the ICU and then failing and then eventually passing on out of our immediate surround. I’ve been sleepless and sad and silent and have spent the past days looking at wonderful photos and taking in the hundreds of truly loving and heartfelt tributes posted on Facebook and elsewhere. All of it cutting deep. And the photos of him and Dodie giving me the most pause, to see their total love and happiness in all of their photos together. What a singular stunning story of devotion and art and love they shared. Something wasn’t entirely real for Kevin until he could share it with Dodie. I’ve been watching, with gut laughter and intermittent sobbing, videos of him reading and talking. I’ve been rereading his interviews with complete astonishment at the casual way he summoned such wide knowledge and combined it with his instinctual intelligence.

The photo I share above is from a brighter moment, it’s from the week in 2004 when we first went through the five Spicer archive boxes that Robin Blaser had sent to the Bancroft. We were so filled with mind-blowing joy at the many treasures that were to be found and were almost breathless as one of us would hold up a sheet and say, “Oh my god! The unfinished letter to Lorca about sounds” or, “Holy Shit! There is an entirely new and longer text to the ‘Oliver Charming’ notebooks,” and it went on like this moment after moment for a full week. We have both said to each other, more than once, that it was one of the best weeks of our lives. How fortunate to share a deep love and regard for a writer. How lucky, in the moment of discovery, to share this affinity with someone I loved. This is fun: Kevin being Kevin, he invited many people to come by to witness the gold we were unearthing. At one point there were six or seven younger people standing around in awe. He transformed the stodgy hush hush of the Bancroft into a happy hour! He made magic and fun out of his life. A major part of what it was for me all these years working in this queer archive compiling My Vocabulary Did This to Me, and helping out with other documents to come, was always to be sharing it with Kevin; it will always be this way. And all the myriad emails and squibs over the years about this or that piece of gossip, lore, or discovery in the ongoing Spicer archive. Kevin’s search never ceased, he was always discovering new things and sharing them. He was willing to share the fruits of his rigorous research and scholarship with anyone, i.e., everyone. He was the most unselfish and unproprietorial person I knew. His generosity and thoughtfulness in every aspect of his life were legion. And his hunger and curiosity were a constant source of wonderment. He was voracious and giving. With his passing we lose an incalculable knowledge of the San Francisco scene and its histories.

Read more at Chicago Review.