I posted this in my livejournal, but I thik I'll post it here, too.
If I am a poet today, it's because of this man: Ted Walker.
Ted was a fine writer, and more importantly (to me at least) an excellent teacher. There is not a thing I know about stringing words and images and syllables together that he, ultimately, didn't teach me. I still regularly quote things he said to me about writing, both in conversation and when I teach.
Ted made me believe in language, and encouraged my tendency to stand up to authority. (You should have seen the look of pride on his face when I told off the Academic Dean in front of a faculty meeting!)
I was Ted's last student--his last writing class at Arundel before retiring was my independent advanced poetry workshop.
I just found out that he passed away a month ago, and there's an ache at that loss now that defies language. Which, of course--as Ted taught me--is the very nature of poetry.
Goodbye, Ted. I've missed you for years, and now I miss you even more.
Sigh.
Yeah. I know what you mean.
Dudes, this is honker.
I've just been invited to submit to a short story anthology - this is invitation only, since it's eleven stories total - the theme of which is, get this, the Four Clowns of the Apocalypse.
I think I want to. I should probably get away from this enchanting loony picture in my head, which features three clowns a la Krusty, called something like Crankypants, Bloomers and Eyepatch, all riding tricycles, and the fourth one, Doug, on a giant unicycle with the Flaming Pie of Justice, or the Big Red Bicycle Horn of Righteousness.
Any suggestions would be welcomed. And no, I'm not kidding.
That is so awesome.
You could write about the Four Clowns, and how the fourth clown, Doug, wants to get out of the game, but they pull him back for one last apocalypse.
HA! P-C, I love that. And knowing my tendency to want to explore the eternal verities, I'd likely wind up having him sulking over why the universe won't let him just go squirt seltzer at unsuspecting insurance agents.
Doug, the Sulkiest Clown of the Apocalypse. He rides the White Unicycle.
So what's Doug doing in the meantime?
What he really wants to do is direct.
Doug anagrams to Godu, the Clown God. Doug has Higher aspirations.
Oh Deb! Stay with the Krustyesque Clowns of the Apocalypse. Go loony. And Polter-Cow's Doug is too cool.
Dana, that's a good question. What do the Four Whatevers do when the apocalypse has been put in turnaround?
Hmmmm. His name is Sulky, yet he wishes to be Doug.
