The ultimate artistic put-down isn't "that's bad" it's "that's not even art." As in my grandfather believing that rock and roll wasn't even music. It's a stupid way to think about the appreciation of the arts, but lots and lots of people do it. This is the problem then about people making definitive statements about art. As in stuff like "poetry is an inward exploration of such and such" or "a meditative experience of blah blah blah." None of us are in a position of authority. We are all in a glass house.
David Copperfield was horrible as far as Max was concerned. Roughly, I agreed. We left a little more than half way through. Today we played Ninja Should and he ran across the tree-park with his arms back and screaming. He fell down and pantomimed injury. We caught one of the escaped bounty hunters. We have to catch four more. It won't be easy, especially since they all have apperating devices.
The semester is over with and I'm aware of that. Actually, I can imagine it even as I write this. So, there is a certain pleasure in certain awarenesses. You could probably understand more about how I feel if you weren't me, instead, you'll just have to make do.
If you were at the reading last night in the BSU library, as I read from Poetry! Poetry! Poetry!, then I really appreciate it. That was nice of you to show up. If you bought a copy of the book, thanks again. If you weren't there, what I want to say is a few things about it and some of the following hours.
Tyler's parents were there and that was very sweet and also some kind students and colleagues and friends were there (some serious overlap in these categories.) My sweet wife Jengi had a cake made with the Poetry! Poetry! Poetry! cover reproduced in the icing. It was cool. I'd have a picture of it if I knew where her camera was and I knew how to operate it better and I wasn't so lazy. But, also also, Kelli made poster of the cover, largely composed of Starburst candies.
And, afterward, there were many drinks and toasts and whatnot. Meatballs and hoo-ha. The kids were gone and so we could be loudish and discuss the early days of British metal. That's called a good time. I was, like, Think Lizzy! Thin Lizzy! But people also talked about Bon Scott!
And really just kindness, which is good. And people say, Well, what about poetry? And you're like, I don't know, but something.