Was out tonight hashing out ideas over a possible new project and it's unbelievable the things you remember in the moment. How is it possible, I ask myself, to forget the good that comes of a night out on the patio with drinks and a friend and a million stories to tell. These nights out at the pub are tantamount to an oil change for the writer brain.
Which reminds me of Bud Brixey. Bud was my mentor in academic decathlon oh sooo many years ago. The one thing Bud taught me that no person could ever replace: the true meaning of poetry.
"Prose," he said, "Is words in the best order."
Simple, yeah?
"Poetry," he continued, "Is the best words in the best order."
And that was Bud's genius. Because poetry, by those standards, could jazz you about anything. A person blogging about the sublimeness of sushi could stir my soul just as much as Langston Hughes.
But only if it's the best words in the best order on the subject.
So maybe it's time to put a little more poetry out there into the world?
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