Poetry anyone?
I guess I fee
a little hurt, like a child not invited to a party. I thought myself a friend,
part of the community here, but one no one thought to notify of the local
poetry reading.
It is not the
first time Michael Alexander has slighted me in such a way, but the first time
I felt hurt by his slights.
Michael has a
way of running over you when you least expect it, not with any meanness, but
with indifference, like a storm sweeping through a valley, trees, houses,
people, simple elements in his way from this end to that.
If only he
hadn't asked me to come cover the event for the school
newspaper, I might have ignored it entirely.
But he and
Joel Lewis seemed to think of me when they needed publicity.
I shouldn't
feel so slighted, since I am not the only member of the literary community here
so ignored. Many of the people who profess to write were left out of the
invitations to read, part of the lower class of less talented people Michael
and Joel deem unworthy for their literary event, part of that elitism Michael
goes on and on about.
The masses in
general don't have any idea what art is about, so why waste time on us, eh?
Sometimes I
feel the same way, and yet most of my inspiration comes from the masses. What a
conflict.
I suppose in
the end, the Michaels and the Joels of the world will
have their way, but it is awfully lonely on the top.