Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Bitch Time

Bitch time.

Everybody's out to pigeonhole you--not that I have anything against pigeons. I lived in Chicago and they seemed everywhere. At the train station. In the eaves of your house. 

Actually, I never saw a pigeon living in a hole. It's a powerful phrase, pigeonhole, but seems unfair to pigeons. It's like the phrase, "Work like a dog."  Almost all the dogs I see are sleeping. Maybe in the old days Border Collie's worked hard.

People call me a poet. I've got nothing against poetry. I read it; I write it. 

But I write novels and memoirs too.  And short stories. 

It's like the old Scotch tape store on the old Saturday Night Live. People would come in there asking for greeting cards or paper, but no, they only sold Scotch tape.

I'm a writer. I write criticism sometimes, book reviews and movie reviews.

Quit trying to marginalize me into the dark and forgotten corner of the poor poet. But hey, you want to be a poet, a poet alone, that's fine with me. Do as thou wilt.

Thank you. You may bitch in response.

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