WHY NOT THE BEST?
I'll soon be addressing in upcoming posts the outcry among literary people about shrinking book review newspaper pages.
Why take my opinion into consideration? Who am I? I've been called "not a writer" and I'm really not. "Writer" isn't how I define myself. I'd worked many jobs, went through several lives before after the age of thirty I began in any way seriously writing. I still consider myself a member of the skeptical general public regarding what passes for literature in this country. If you well-titled authorities want me to believe you have the goods, you'll have to do a better job of persuading me.
Right now I'm not convinced. Most of the authorities are fakes. If they were truly the best at what they do they wouldn't be hiding in their office buildings, afraid of the ULA. When you're the best, you're not afraid of anything.
Last Friday night after work I walked into an urban poetry open mic in order to test my voice. I held my own amid an array of energetic wordplay. One time I was at a poetry reading with Frank Walsh in the 'hood and MOVE people came in to read-- one of them with her great voice and passion destroying the place. True writers show off their words in any venue. Literature becomes an organic creation as it was in Shakespeare's time. (Literature is more than what the gentry is doing at polite swanky affairs at the main public library.)
Why not the best? Why not indeed.
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