Poetic Silence

Dylan's Nobel had left me confused. After all what gets more mainstream than this? There are those who read books and there are those that sit around listening to songs. The former, more decorated, share trophies and grace cocktail receptions. The latter, more worn and eventually weary, share cigarettes and call shindigs parties, and listen to Amy Winehouse songs. The latter doesn't have many icons...at least those that are alive. And here is the Nobel committee, what do you call it, co-opting somebody from the other team. It is the equivalent of a star goal keeper being poached by the rich club across town. Eventually, the goalie will have to leave...but it hurts more if he jumps at the offer and becomes a good boy. In that, I have a lot to thank Dylan for. Just the delay, the wait...it is not fair to ask more from him. Don't know how the Nobel committee does these things. When you decorate a singer (rocker, poet, powder messiah, call him what you may) who sang lines galore of amphetamine and shit, guess you already know what this is: poetic silence.