A Night of Poetry, Power, and Protest, But I Am Too Busy Worrying About Popularity Contests
This post should be about how Friday’s event was inspired. It was inspired, filled with gorgeous poetry and impassioned readings and good vibes. Alas, I am not going to “rise above” certain pettiness, and you’ll have to forgive me if I gripe a little.
When the event began, Sharon Olds stood up and everyone gave her a standing ovation. There was a row of seventeen poets behind her, sitting upright and proud, like an army or a mafia family. It was like their presence was saying, “Yo! Sharon! We got your back!” They were there to speak of convictions and to do it through images and metaphors. They were there to represent! Then Olds made a surprising introduction. She said that there was a last minute addition to this evening’s program. Just the night before she was on the phone with Mary Louise Parker, and she asked her, “Oh, is there a poem you would like to read?” And yes, of course, she would read a poem. So, proudly Sharon Olds gave the stage over to her friend, the actress Mary Louise Parker, who came up on stage and read Jorie Graham’s poem, “Nebraska.”
Okay, you’re going to have to forgive this petty, envious girl in me, when I say, WHAT THE HECK?? Why do movie stars get to be friends with everybody cool? Why do they get special treatment? Why does Mary Louise Parker–a beautiful woman, I might add, and apparently very serious about her craft–get to A) be friends–talk on the phone friends(!)–with my favorite living poet, and B) get to step in front of all these poets, who were called to arms for this event, and read somebody else’s poem?
I think my celebrity excitement evaporated at that moment. I will admit I was totally jealous that she is IN with Sharon Olds, but I also don’t like that just because she is a movie actress, we’re all supposed to make like the Great Sea and part for her.
Yesterday, my friend Michael, who waits tables at a slightly trendy restaurant, said that if a celebrity shows up, they will remove people from tables to give it them. Even if the regular joe had reserved the table for his birthday, they will give he and his guests a free drink and tell them to shoo. More IMPORTANT customers are afoot, buddy! WHO CARES if its YOUR birthday, are you on the cover of People Magazine? I didn’t think so--SCRAM.
I just don’t like it. What makes them so exceptional? Sure, it’s fun to recognize them, but it bothers me that just because they are more visible than anyone, their presence in a room takes over and eclipses the importance of anyone else who is there. They may be gifted–and some of them are–but I maintain that they are artists of one medium, while the world is filled with artists who’s work is equally of importance and are probably getting kicked off of tables or relegated second in line to read because–GASP!–a celebrity is here!
Oh, well. This issue means nothing in the face of war or poverty or social injustice or death–all subjects that were rendered and discussed and sung on Friday night by eighteen poets of wonderful gifts. Also, Ms. Parker did a beautiful job reading the long and thick poem. As she stood up, she announced, “I am not a poet, but a poetry whore.” We laughed, an audience of Regular Joes, recognizing the truth in that statement about ourselves, that we too, were poetry whores, ready for some action.
When the event began, Sharon Olds stood up and everyone gave her a standing ovation. There was a row of seventeen poets behind her, sitting upright and proud, like an army or a mafia family. It was like their presence was saying, “Yo! Sharon! We got your back!” They were there to speak of convictions and to do it through images and metaphors. They were there to represent! Then Olds made a surprising introduction. She said that there was a last minute addition to this evening’s program. Just the night before she was on the phone with Mary Louise Parker, and she asked her, “Oh, is there a poem you would like to read?” And yes, of course, she would read a poem. So, proudly Sharon Olds gave the stage over to her friend, the actress Mary Louise Parker, who came up on stage and read Jorie Graham’s poem, “Nebraska.”
Okay, you’re going to have to forgive this petty, envious girl in me, when I say, WHAT THE HECK?? Why do movie stars get to be friends with everybody cool? Why do they get special treatment? Why does Mary Louise Parker–a beautiful woman, I might add, and apparently very serious about her craft–get to A) be friends–talk on the phone friends(!)–with my favorite living poet, and B) get to step in front of all these poets, who were called to arms for this event, and read somebody else’s poem?
I think my celebrity excitement evaporated at that moment. I will admit I was totally jealous that she is IN with Sharon Olds, but I also don’t like that just because she is a movie actress, we’re all supposed to make like the Great Sea and part for her.
Yesterday, my friend Michael, who waits tables at a slightly trendy restaurant, said that if a celebrity shows up, they will remove people from tables to give it them. Even if the regular joe had reserved the table for his birthday, they will give he and his guests a free drink and tell them to shoo. More IMPORTANT customers are afoot, buddy! WHO CARES if its YOUR birthday, are you on the cover of People Magazine? I didn’t think so--SCRAM.
I just don’t like it. What makes them so exceptional? Sure, it’s fun to recognize them, but it bothers me that just because they are more visible than anyone, their presence in a room takes over and eclipses the importance of anyone else who is there. They may be gifted–and some of them are–but I maintain that they are artists of one medium, while the world is filled with artists who’s work is equally of importance and are probably getting kicked off of tables or relegated second in line to read because–GASP!–a celebrity is here!
Oh, well. This issue means nothing in the face of war or poverty or social injustice or death–all subjects that were rendered and discussed and sung on Friday night by eighteen poets of wonderful gifts. Also, Ms. Parker did a beautiful job reading the long and thick poem. As she stood up, she announced, “I am not a poet, but a poetry whore.” We laughed, an audience of Regular Joes, recognizing the truth in that statement about ourselves, that we too, were poetry whores, ready for some action.
posted by Summer Pierre at
1:35 PM
2 Comments:
ha!!! i hear you..you took the words out of my mouth....
I have been studying the book of James and it talks about favoritism, amazing how applicable it is to our current life. That makes me sick, what your friend said about the restaurant. Yet I know it is true and see it on a smaller scale in my own life. Popularity. I think after high school the word should be removed from our vocabulary. Ick.
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