I am getting rather weary of the tent city set up in our front yard, replete with journalists and hecklers who are all, "Give it up already, Biddinger!" and "I'm going to pick through your trash with a rat tail comb" and "What are your thoughts on breastfeeding in public, and do you find this scandalous?".
Perhaps someday the wild American populus will leave poetry to the freaks and adolescents and start fixating on something worthwhile. In the meantime, I will be covering my children in shrouds and carrying a golf umbrella everywhere I go.
4 comments:
Mary:
I'm sorry, but if you think America is going o start ignoring its poets for say, the likes of professional athletes, then you've got anohter thing coming.
I mean, the day Time Magazine stops putting poets on the cover at least 5 times/year is the day one of my students will ask "Robert Who?" when I start talking poetry in class. It just ain't gonna happen.
You have just got to toughen up, little miss! Nobody said the life of a poet would be easy. You have to understand you lose some expectations of privacy when you write poetry. I know nobody told you about the down-side of this industry, but get used to it. I man, would you rather be playing professional golf with the non-existant endorsements and paltry weekly stipend? Fame is simply the nature of the beast.
You're right, Justin. When those poetry scouts started soliciting me during my freshman year of high school, I really should've resisted. It does feel great, however, to buy my parents matching Mercedeses and lots of bling with all the money I make writing poetry.
I haven't wanted to tell you this, but I've gotten HUGE money on eBay for half-eaten sandwiches of yours. Also, I've been cutting the sheets into 1 inch squares and selling them at flea markets.
Hey! I never leave a sandwich half-eaten. Who are you, crazed fan?
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