Han Vance / 2019 / poetry
“RE: invent” (2019) ~ Coming soon!
Han Vance / 2019 / poetry
“RE: invent” (2019) ~ Coming soon!
Posman Books at PONCE CITY MARKET, ATL (North Ave side)
On Aug 26th, Sunday from 12-2p
“Golden State Misadventures” 3rd edition
(nonfiction novel, new cover, liquid libations)
New York City:
Bowery Poetry Club in Manhattan, NYC (in the Bowery)
On Aug 12th, Sunday Night
“Silver Stone Press Presents” with Tom Cheshire
(Sean Scharbach and Cheshire will be reading with me)
– www.silverstonepress.com for info
HAN VANCE Signing “Golden State Misadventures” (3rd edition) at Posman Books, located out front on the North Avenue side of Ponce City Market from Sunday, August 26 from 12:00-2:00 p.m.
Come party with me, get a signed and inscribed copy with new cover by Michael Santini and Meggan Talley.
Get Inside The Van:www.SilverStonePress.com
(Photo by: Jami Buck-Vance)
ATTN: A full-length book collection of travel writing by Han Vance is to be published in 2018.
Magical Mexico – originally for hanvance.com
A day removed from a pit of Mexican fire in my stomach, which burned bright with tequila and salt, I comfortably reflect on Zona Polanco in the Federal District of Mexico, DF, for short. Think of our DC, meets NYC.
Polanco, in effect the Beverly Hills of Mexico, from Burberry to Gucci to my favorite, the eclectic Common People where we bought beautiful soaps and bath salts and a brightly-colored magnet of the Lady of Guadalupe, radiant against a red background. That’s Mexico for you these days: radiant and resiliently shining always, yet against a red background of worsening drug violence. We didn’t see many other Americans during the trip but generally felt fairly safe.
Mexico City boasts more density than New York City while it is vaster than North American land giant Los Angeles, with a total population roughly equal to both of those biggest of United States cities combined. Thirty million people hived around us seeing about their day, while the affluence of Zona Polanco was perhaps most striking. The pedigreed pooches in sweaters and bows, with well-coiffed and attired owners in tow, themselves with expensive sweaters tied around their necks, so Euro. The rolling tree-canopied park and the finest shopping, the restaurants where I found so many friendly tables.
Past the biggest flag I’ve ever seen, one Zona over is the giant park, with the public lake where families and couples cruise on peddled boats, the museums and street food vendors. On a Sunday afternoon, we strolled amongst thousands, one street vendor saying, “Wow,” at the significant beauty of my lady, as the sugar of the churros stuck to our hands.
We stopped in for a tangy margarita at a swank spot playing NFL games and then were given a free ride back to our hotel in their comfy courtesy van…the big city night still awaiting us.
Fitting that I’d just bought a souvenir folk art miniature Mexican cantina in Cuernavaca, I thought later, as we explored the nightlife in Mexico City, with somewhat mixed results. Our credit card stopped working and required a phone call to rev back up at what could have been an inopportune moment, and the tequila eventually hit me too hard.
Before all this was the mansion once owned by the lovely Hollywood actress Brigitte Bardot in Cuernavaca, Land of Eternal Spring, where we stayed in the guest quarters. Cuernavaca is a city of around one million, an escape from Mexico City, a city behind gated walls, which opened to reveal large homes with majestic gardens and outdoor spaces.
The place we stayed was cobalt and white and flowing and as majestic in taste and decoration as any I’ve seen below the border, a shrine to all that is good about Mexico, and there really is so much.
The smell of steaming tamales removed from foil and banana leaves, for breakfast. The memories flood through me, of Texas relatives whom loved the culture. The feel of being seated outside under a temperate sky and consuming cold Mexican beer with limes sliced sideways, with the woman I truly love. The thronging Zocalo and the reverence and spectacle of Mexico’s churches, the taste of piquant salsa verde and wholesome handmade tortillas. The art and color – yellow, cobalt blue, galaxy blue, Aztec blue, pink, hot pink, red, orange all popping against the expected browns and tans. My single favorite art piece I saw was the Diego Rivera mural depicting the history of the state of Morelos, which filled the largest walls in the main public building in Cuernavaca’s downtown.
To-and-fro Cuernavaca, we traveled by luxury bus, from the airport in DF, where we shared our first Mexican meal, a delicious bistec torta (steak sandwich). The city is mammoth from the air and feels enormous while navigated by auto. Housing packed on top of shallow stores and restaurants selling food and goods to the multitudinous masses. Soccer facilities and parks along the graffiti-splashed Metro train line, as we bounced in the bus through the crush of traffic.
Followed by the rurality of mountains and fields of hay that is most of the land in the nation of Mexico. Coming into Cuernavaca, we felt the energy rise again. And life did pulse there, with the same Mexican fire that we felt of the biggest city in the world, 100 years after the revolution, 200 years after declaring independence from Spain.
Students flock to Cuernavaca to study Spanish; while Capitalinos (as residents of DF are known) retreat the short distance to Cuernavaca for cleaner air and relative calm. Mariachi players wait near the Zocalo in full uniform ready to be rented to play. And a raucous mid-day celebration once swept us up, a tipsy local painted as an Indian for the festivities putting his arm around me as he introduced himself and his less than pleased date, while we charged down the cobblestone street with them. He told me I should have been out there at 10 a.m.
The silver town of Taxco that we visited on a day trip was brimming with humanity – flooding narrow city streets, full of pedestrians and vehicles and thousands of shops, every structure white with only black-lettered signage. There, I prayed in the most ornate church I’ve ever seen and then had a drink at the rooftop bar across the plaza. Next, dinner included chicken enchiladas and a hilltop view of the entire village from a large restaurant/hotel.
Our last night in Cuernavaca, fireworks bombastically filled the sky from the club next door, as we finished with fine dining in a gorgeous open-air restaurant. The Mexican night air felt so perfect to us, under the candle and lamplight. And we anticipated the frenetic energy of the megalopolis of DF, which was again on our agenda.
Back inside the mansion that night, we settled in to fall asleep and then were at one point suddenly awakened to noises on the tiled ceiling. We moved to the kitchen, and two curious creatures called coatis glanced at us through a window from atop the property’s wall, before one bounded over the other as they exited our view, the magic of Mexico plainly evident to us.
1. FRI May 26, 2017 (7-9pm) Criminal Records Little 5 Points Atlanta, with Tom Cheshire of Silver Stone Press.
2. Memorial Day (all morning) 2017 Hidden Lantern Bookstore Rosemary Beach, Florida. Next to Amavida Coffee; setting up outside.
3. A3C Festival Oct 4, 2017 (opening act) Union EAV East Atlanta Village.
1. My Moment Of Joy
Before The Sun Also Rose
I Was In Bloom, Nirvana
Working In San Francisco
Coffee Roasting Co In
Atlanta: Center Of The South
Words Came To My Mouth
After The Alarm Clock
It Was FRI, So Rock
Show Was On Said Radio
Waiting For The Floyd
Then It Came And My Fav
Wish You Were Here Heard
Loud, Lights Back Off And
Walked Toward The Couch
With A Water, The Elixir Of Life
Washed Away All Strife
Faced It, My True/New Joy
And In These Reflections
On Life & On The Picture Wall
Trains, In Both Directions
2. What I Love About This
Is Watching The Trains
Buzz By, While I
Cantank A Vinegar Piss
Or Preach About A Thing
Or Two I Do Like, Like
Dixie’s Sunny Shore Or
A Nice Medium Roast
Big Wines And Little
Beers And My Dears
I Love My Family
Nuclear, In Particular
I Know Myself, The Shelf
Where I Keep My Crazy
The Closet Is For Skeletons
We All Have Tons Of ‘Em
But My Baggage Is Aging
While I’m In A Youth
Movement, Getting Older
3. Dark ‘N’ Deep
Your Cool Friends Dead Cold
And A ~ Byproduct, I’d Say
Of Getting Old
Is Putting Away
Unbecoming On Hold
Lest You Sleep (Weep)
With Fishes, Wishes
In The Dark ‘N’ Deep
REM Phase, U2 Phase
Bananarama Shama Lama
Phi Slamma Jamma
Honor Your Ancestors
Those Euro Capitalists
Aviation Pioneers, Shop
Keepers And Chiropractors
Through Me, Throwin’
Me A Bone And Washin’
Against Me In My Home
“SILVER STONE PRESS Presents” is a double reversible poetry featuring “peach” by Han Vance and “uNEVENLY yOLKED” by Tom Cheshire.
American Culture Reporter TM is new brand by Han Vance (Editor-in-Chief) featuring Vance + other writers and artists.
Copyright 2016 HV
Every road trip has its own language and all of America deserves exploration of this dynamic debut book. In it, Han Vance chronicles the amusing and ultimately life-altering quest of a soon-to-be-divorced father from Atlanta as he travels turn of the millennium California, immersing in the urban grittiness of the Bay Area, glitzy yet morally ambiguous quirkiness of Hollywood, slow burn reclusiveness of the Emerald Triangle and practically everything else along the way. Already a cult classic of note on the West Coast supported by an extensive American tour, publisher Silver Stone Press is pleased to offer Vance’s edgy portrayal of the ragged glory of the Golden State.
Please BUY the book at www.silverstonepress.com ~ $21 signed, includes FREE US SHIPPING
Han Vance live for “Golden State Misadventures”:
A Cappella Books Atlanta_5th of July
Battery Park Book Exchange & Champagne Bar Asheville_TUE 8/23
Bookmiser Marietta_WED 8/31
Decatur Book Festival_SUN 9/4