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1. This is the icebreaker question that more or less always appears in these mini questions/answers; the nice thing about it is that sometimes it breaks the ice, and sometimes it creates it: where are you and what are you doing right now?
G.C.: Right now, I am at home in front of the computer. The computer is a silver MacBook which I am very fond of. I am drinking coffee. I am listening to Elton John, which relaxes me a lot. I have just composed an event on Facebook.
Now I have to write poems on demand, but I don't feel like it.
2. While I was thinking about the questions to ask you, they were talking about William Wordsworth on the radio, about his poems that were written in a new way, using the true spoken language of men. And I thought, here, Catalano's poems tell the truth, they talk about everyday things and powerful feelings using words in an unusual way. And they also make you laugh because of the disorientation they provoke.
Am I wrong?
G.C.: I don't think you're wrong.
I try to talk, in my poems, about everyday things, and I try to use a comprehensible language. I feel the need to be understood by those who read me or hear me during public readings. Then there's the laughter aspect. Probably it's what saves me, laughing. Actually, I don't laugh easily, but I find it easy to write things that make people laugh. It's a natural gift. Not devised in a calculated way.
Sometimes I write things that I don't think are funny, but people find them humorous.
When I meet someone who can make me laugh, I am very fond of them.
3. While I was thinking about the questions to ask you, there was a program on television where someone had to guess what job a very elegant blonde lady with glasses did, and it turned out she raised pigs. And then I thought, what are a poet's clothes like, and how does one fit into them?
G.C.: I feel more like a rock star than a poet, so it would be easier for me to tell you what the clothes of a rock star are like, but since the question is what a poet's clothes are like, I'll tell you I have no idea. Actually, I hope I don't look like a poet. I should dress all in black and would look like a cockroach.
Then going around saying "I am a poet" is incredibly embarrassing.
Anyway, I like saying that I am a professional poet because people look at me as if I'm crazy.
And probably, I am a little.
4. While I was thinking about the questions to ask you, I was reading your book The Woman Who Kissed Wolves where you say Vasco was once a damned chief, and then the words of that song came to mind:
But songs are like flowers, they grow by themselves and they're like dreams and all we can do is write them quickly because then they disappear and don't come back anymore. And so I thought: how do your poems come to life?
G.C.: I hear a phrase, something happens to me, I witness an event, I read a book, I listen to a song, and I get inspiration.
Other times I sit down and tell myself "now I must write a beautiful poem" and that's harder.
Other times I write poems on commission, and that's very hard.
There are long periods when writing is difficult for me, then as if by magic, a sort of plug of cerebral wax gets unstuck and I start writing like a madman.
Sometimes before I fall asleep, I get crazy ideas. They come to me in the twilight sleep. I write them all in my head. But then in the morning, they are lost in the meanders of my disordered unconscious.
For the fifth and last question, I was thinking you could choose between the brutal death metal question or say something you want to.
G.C.: I want the brutal one!
5. I thought now I'd ask the brutal death metal question of the dream in the drawer, but then I reread on your site The Adventures of a Poet with the Vikings, and I thought those in their way are very brutal things.
And so, what would you like the future to hold for the adventurous poet?
G.C.: The adventure poet or adventurer asks his future not to lose his life since it's quite a dangerous job.
Then asks the future to be able to make a living from his poems.
Making a living from poetry these days seems like a paradoxical and absurd concept, but it's possible to do it.
At least, I'm doing it.
With quite a bit of effort.
Not so much with the sale of books, as we know, people don't buy poetry books.
Not even poets buy poetry.
If everyone who wrote poetry bought poetry, poetry would sell like crazy.
I sell quite a few, but to make a living, I do poetry shows.
So I hope to continue doing these shows and become rich and famous.
Maybe not rich and famous, but at least live decently.
The questions and answers are finished, now watch and listen to this beautiful poem with its beautiful video: Bum Bum Bum
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