Monday, January 22, 2007
The man who planned a surprise attack on me on my birthday in 1991, EG, writes better prose poetry than I do -- his prose poetry is better than his "line poetry," and my line poetry is better than his. He gets paid to work as a college tutor; I am obliged to tutor for free. I have three degrees; he has none. He is a "hard way" writer who did not graduate college; I am an "easy way" writer who did graduate, three times. The "easy-ways" have a harder time getting paid than the "hard-ways." I am sure you feel that it has nothing to do with our genders that he is paid, and I volunteer, only with that I care: a feminine preoccupation that I have with getting paid. Am I "crazy"? Is he "wild and crazy"? I volunteer within local jurisdictions -- but why? why? for what? I have told my mother, "You are in cahoots with these violent people when you don't object to it," but she thinks it's writing experts who decided it. Writing experts might agree with me: his prose poetry is better than mine, but prose poetry was not the arena when he attacked me in 1991. The arena was short story (mine) and line poetry (his).