A letter to poet, Brendan Constantine

January 2007

Dear Brendan,

I know you will never see this letter unless of course you google yourself (sounds so dirty or a Who song from Tommy if it were written today). But I have to write you a note and I thought since I do not have your email anymore, I'd just write some content for the blog.

I think about you from time to time wondering what you're doing. Perhaps its my impending eve of destruction or at least that's how I view my birthday next week. Lately I've been thinking a lot about old friends. I do not remember my life when I did not know you. Sure I met you in my 13th year of life but the years before were such a blur. And though I haven't seen you since my 30th birthday (only moments ago it seems), a seat is still reserved for you in my heart's memory bank. That is if a heart has a memory bank, maybe it's just a flash drive...yes even my heart has been upgraded with a USB2 port.

Tuesday, I went to an open poetry night at the local cafe (it's 45 minutes away from my holler). The instructions were, bring a poem or two to share with others. Knowing that the best poem I ever wrote had these two lines: Kenny Jones is the new drummer, Cause Keith died what a bummer I opted to read someone else's poetry. I searched and found one you had written. "Last Night I Went To the Map of the World and I Have Messages for You".

And so it was my turn and I read your poem aloud. As the overly paranoid of litigation gal that I am, I stated the name of the author and year so as not to get into any copyright infringement issues. Only someone my age who grew up where I did would worry about copyright infringement at a small cafe in West Virginia. I did not read it the way you would have...but I did read it aloud. The audience enjoyed it so much that when my turn came around again and they realized I only brought 1 piece with me, I was asked to read it again. Only this time, there was an entire discussion about your choice of meter and the political ideas behind it. I smiled, knowing that no matter how you make yourself present be it by someone else reading your poetry, you always become the life of the party.

So with that, I salute you. You've done well. If and when you find this blog, please know that the girl who would listen to Tom Waits and Social Distortion or play with that punching Bruce Lee puppet with you still thinks of you and wishes you the very best.

Love your pal,

Tallulah