My Co-Star app has consistently been warning me that artists need time to do nothing but think over a bottle of wine, I guess it was right.
I can’t help but look back and wish that I had seen that Metanoia website earlier in my life, that I had access to counselors or therapists that I could trust, that I lived in a world where medication wasn’t stigmatized, that I understood the myths I had about suicide were just that: myths. I wonder if I would be further along in my journey if I started sooner.
I write this in fits and starts, just adding things about Marvin as they come to mind, moving up and down the page. It’s strange to look at websites make the necessary update, the cementation that he is, in fact, gone. It’s a strange addition to the grieving process. A friend of mine who was in my first workshop with Marvin had said upon hearing the news of his passing, “I thought he’d live to 101.” I thought so too.
“I like X too, but…” or “I say this as a fan of X’s poetry…” or “I read X in high school and loved it…” or [insert your phrasing of choice here]. For any poet or color, it’s the necessary incantation before one can make any criticism, no matter how benign, of any white poet (dead or alive).
This isn’t paranoia. All one would need to do is look through Poetry Twitter right now and see this dance being performed by poets of color. And what is the criticism currently?
In hindsight, it is easy to imagine that under other circumstances, GoT would have failed early on. In many ways D&D lucked out by having compelling source material to draw from, the right backers, a superb cast, and a stellar crew (from costuming to set design to music, etc.)…