Google my name....and a thousand or so more pages appear with my name... all thanks to the death of a poet named Susana Chavez. And because I said what I said at the time, now all of a sudden I am this big-shot writer. To tell the truth, I don't know what to say about this new found fame.
I never actually knew Susana... if I was to say that I read her poetry I would also have to admit that I read it just enough to know who the heck she was by the time she was killed. I knew her enough to say I didn't cry for her, nor will I miss her. Yet this new found fame has made me her best friend, almost her collegue, allie... heck! I even bought her a drink once and a while.
If I was to post a poem here is just to show you how little I knew her. If I befriended her in facebook is because I befriend everyone who asks. If I crossed words with her, I cannot remember - not her face, not her voice, not even what she said. If I was to post her picture is to show you how much I cannot relate to her, or her lifestyle. But Google my name, and there I am... blabbing about her, next to her grave. I didn't even remember going to her funeral, how the fuck did me showing up in it happened? I cannot tell if it was raining that day, or cold, or snowing... But there I am, with my new found fame, telling everyone how much we're going to miss her and how much of a loss the city has had over a brilliant poet.
I never actually knew Susana... if I was to say that I read her poetry I would also have to admit that I read it just enough to know who the heck she was by the time she was killed. I knew her enough to say I didn't cry for her, nor will I miss her. Yet this new found fame has made me her best friend, almost her collegue, allie... heck! I even bought her a drink once and a while.
If I was to post a poem here is just to show you how little I knew her. If I befriended her in facebook is because I befriend everyone who asks. If I crossed words with her, I cannot remember - not her face, not her voice, not even what she said. If I was to post her picture is to show you how much I cannot relate to her, or her lifestyle. But Google my name, and there I am... blabbing about her, next to her grave. I didn't even remember going to her funeral, how the fuck did me showing up in it happened? I cannot tell if it was raining that day, or cold, or snowing... But there I am, with my new found fame, telling everyone how much we're going to miss her and how much of a loss the city has had over a brilliant poet.
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