To the Editor:
You thought you had your shit down cold, didn't you? Get drunk tonight, get up late tomorrow, write your papers, study your books, and pull it all together in time for your plane to take off on Friday?
Wrong.
Before you even think about jumping through that hoop, you're gonna grab a copy of The Voice and read Kiese Laymon's essay. While the rest of us were readying ourselves for the style point round of the intellectual regurgitation contest called mid-terms, Kiese was applying himself. Specifically: He identified an aspect of his immediate environment that crossed him, he proceeded to apprehend it with a keen eye and an open soul, and, finally, he laid it bare with equal parts logic and passion. Honest to God Miracle Number One: He made me shut my mouth and open my mind for five minutes. Honest to God Miracle Number Two: He filled my open mind with notions that I could not have conceived of and conclusions I could not have drawn.
That's where it's at. This letter isn't about me complimenting Kiese, although he does deserve it. The man doesn't need my reassurance. See, it's not about the man, because the mind transcends the man. And it ain't about the mind, because IDEAS transcend the mind, and if you open this week's Voice, that's what you'll find. Ideas. Kiese:
Props, just and due. I never do this shit, but you gave me no choice. It's that good.
Copyright © 1997, The Oberlin Review.
Volume 125, Number 17; March 7, 1997
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