I don't feel like talking politics so I am going to tell stories instead. This is a response to Patrick's WAYD. So, I'm remembering how my alcoholic, yet-to-be-diagnosed manic-depressive, pathological liar former roommate, K. used to force his poetry on us. We would be sitting there quietly, eating dinner and watching Behind the Music reruns when he would come out of his room, journal in hand, wearing a black mock turtleneck sweater. Then he would start reading. He did this constantly. It was horrible. I have absolutely no experience playing the guitar and I have the kind of flat singing voice that annoys people to no end if I sing along with music on the stereo. Imagine if were I were to start just strumming a guitar and singing and claiming, "well these sounds are coming from my hands and my mouth, so therefore it's beautiful." That was pretty much his philosophy. Also, "it's short so I can do it." He wanted to be Pablo Neruda. And he ONLY read Pablo Neruda. He was measuring his ability to put worlds together against a translated poet. But I never said anything because he would have taken it personally. I know it sounds mean, but it was really quite sad. He just hated himself so much and wanted so badly to be part of something more than his world of finance, to be thought of as creative, an artist. (He wanted an art chick and they don't date finance guys.) What's even sadder is that he was an AMAZING cook. I told him that cooking was his gift and he should nurture it. He said, "no, writing is my gift, cooking is my hobby." Cooking was not artistic enough. I got into an argument with one of my most laid-back open-minded friends about this. At that time, the MOST diplomatic guy I knew. He said, "Well, you are being too hard, maybe it's okay you know...sometimes you just have to blah blah blah postmodern blah blah no such thing as truth blah blah." Then I read one. I wasn't finished before he said, "Stop it. That's bad. I can't believe you wasted 25 seconds of my life with that. It was that bad. The thing is, I really like hearing what people I know have written especially the notsogreat stuff because it captures their voice at a certain moment, and it illustrates how they are making sense of their lives and that can be really cool. The worst part about K.'s poetry is that it lacked even that; you couldn't even hear his voice in it. Basically, anyone could have arranged these words about lust and pain and breasts and vaginas. I wanted to be able to say, "No one but K. could have written that." He wasn't writing from anywhere inside, so he wasn't even tapping that reservoir of pain that...writing was not a release for him, it was a mask. Am I a snob? Yeah, I was tired of having to hear it all the time, but really the reason I ever wanted K. to stop writing was because I knew why he was doing it. One day I asked (because I always ask) him if I could read something that I wrote. He said, "You can always read something to me; remember I'm poetry-guy."

Do you think you could create for us a sort of archetypal K poem, just so we could have a taste?

ok...if you e-mail me I can send you one of his "classics" but it kind of goes like this: Why did you do that to me? Decieving with your deception? Do I not bleed, feel, lust, cry? Are you the human or am I? Is this the merger of hearts or the aquisition of souls? this is not Manifest destiny you cannot colonize terrorize in my eyes i see your lies

I minored in Creative Writing and took three semesters of Poetry, and I wish I could remember some of the things my classmates wrote. None of it was too bad, but there were some awfully annoying people in there. I have to admit....I liked what I wrote for those classes. I thought my poems were pretty good. It was always painful for me to read them out loud, because I liked them but didn't want to sound like I did, because what if they really were no good? Oh, the awkwardity!

Oh, the banality! Kazoo, did he read with a spoken-word sing-song? Email me one of the classics!

yeah, he had that wednesday-night-coffeeshop-tone in his voice perfected. poor guy...really, I love him to death. He didn't get an art chick, he just married a militant, vegan, feminist domestic violence caseworker manipulative beast who treats him like SHIT. But she loves his poetry.

unfortunately people, it seems, arent realistic with themselves. Knowing when your work sucks shit as an underated skill. Then there's the point of honesty. do you tell someone their work is lacking? i suppose only if they are asking...but by reading it aloud arent they asking? You can't ask for praise and not criticism can you? Thats cheap.

His work was so bad I didn't know where to begin. And I cannot lie about these things. I just can't. But I couldn't bring myself to tell the truth either because even the most constructive criticism would have hurt his feelings. And he's not the most emotionally stable person around. My feeling is that the only thing that makes you better is that kind of criticism. But he just wanted us to give him endess praise. We were stoned all the time so I usually used that as an excuse, "sorry, K. I am way too baked to think straight. Let's talk about it later." He wrote something once actually that was good...that is, it actually sounded like something only he would write. I told him that it was the first time I really heard his "voice" in his writing. But it was just a few lines and probably lost now in a sea of conflicting bitter penises.

do like i do,. change the subject or leave outright claiming a huge poop is urgently needing freedom or something. I never ever want two things in my life (absolutely) 1) pity fucks 2) false praise when itcomes to my cooking and my photography.

your cooking sucks but i'd do you anyway.

what's wrong with pity fucks?

and further, most poetry sucks.

You say you can't hear his voice, kazoo, but what if his voice, but even bad mimicry can reveal his heart. Here's what it says to me: he's desperate to express himself well, and so he obsesses over the style he thinks does that the best. His bad poetry evokes emotions in you through the poem's style and the poet's delivery. So what if it isn't the emotions you'd like to feel, the awe at hearing his "true voice." What if his true voice is this pitiable banal obsession? What if that is the message to be conveyed? Why should poetry give you insight into his inner self? Maybe the insight is that he has no inner self and is desperately trying to fill that void?

it's like saying something that doesn't need to be said. like, "Run! Godzilla!" most people are souless. i don't care to be smacked across the face with it.

Then why are you smacking everybody else?

i agree with nate.

Antigone, How dare you talk to me like that about one of my friends. This was not about my expectations of what his poetry should reveal. And actually, at that time, I really didn't want an insight to his "inner self." It was a scary, scary place. "His bad poetry evokes emotions in you through the poem's style and the poet's delivery. So what if it isn't the emotions you'd like to feel, the awe at hearing his "true voice" What a load of shit. I never said I wasn't looking for the authentic *K* to emerge, only that his poetry evoked NOTHING personal. You haven't read any of his poetry, and you didn't live with him. I saw what he was going through...it wasn't easy for any of us. Sure most of the time, I wanted him to just go away. But after I moved and we started putting our friendship back together, I wanted him to stop fighting himself, to stop burying himself beneath all these stupid expecations about what it means to be a wonderful person. How is that any different from your desire to help your girlfriend and others through their insecurities? And on top of all of that, it is rude to just walk into a room and dump all of that shit onto people...especially if it's something as deep and as personal as he wanted us to think. And if you don't believe me that his poetry was just plain bad...ask Spider, who I believe characterized it as something you'd find in the onion.

"it's like saying something that doesn't need to be said." actually, it's like saying something that needs to be said in twenty sentences about failed sexual exploits instead of four sentences about needing to see a therapist.

"How dare you talk to me like that about one of my friends." Like what? Kazoo, I'm not trying to insult your friend. You're doing a pretty god job of that already. "I never said I wasn't looking for the authentic *K* to emerge, only that his poetry evoked NOTHING personal. " And I'm saying it does evoke something personal. You just seem preoccupied with judging the form of his poetry and the manner he delivers it. And, if you weren't looking for the "authentic *K*" then why did you post things like, "He wasn't writing from anywhere inside..." Basically I'm saying that you ARE getting an insight about him specificaly because he is writing derivitive hack bad poetry delivered in a rude emotionally intrusive, needy way. But, from everything that you've posted, I can see that you already knew that. Why is my saying it pissing you off so much? And why are you "defending" this friend from me while simultaneously insulting him left and right? That's probably an interesting story in and of itself.

oy...maybe I reacted too quickly to you Antigone...I thought you were accusing me of being insensitive...sorry

I wasn't defending my friend actually, I was defending myself. Yes, I was talking about the sheer awfulness of his poetry. But also that I struggle with that, and that probably didn't come out as well....

cooking is not artistic enough? HA!

Sarah, I wish you could have seen him cook. He glowed! Glowed, I tell you.... p.s. that "oy" wasn't a crack at your post Antigone...I didn't see your post until after I posted the "oy" post...I was exasperated at my own over-reaction

Oy vey, don't worry about it! You're all fire and contrition today, ain't ye? Have you been eatin' too much cayenne pepper? :)

no...just not enough chocolate

"Fire and contrition." I like that. Yes, K's poetry really is bad. I'm sorry.

Hmmm,sometimes its takes a bad ass-fucking,like "K's" work,to help us appreciate a really good ass-fucking. I say let him continue in his own genre,its obviously affected some of us,otherwise this thread wouldn't be. Isn't that what art is all about? Emmiting emotion? The cause and effect. I believe he WAS effective in emmitting emotion/response. And now,[fortunately for us],his new wife will be privy to his artistic talents. I believe his work here is now relegated to an ipso-facto status.

admit it tiggy. kazoo's author friend rings a pathetic poetry bell in you doesnt it. You know how I know? "Here's what it says to me: he's desperate to express himself well, and so he obsesses over the style he thinks does that the best." hee!!! hee!!! pansy hey dave, everything is wrong with a pity fuck sir.

what if the fuck is a really, really, really, really incredible one?

how can it be incredible when its laced with you pity? c'mon. you're a 21st century girl you'd never sleep with anyone knowing they were doing it out of pity.

No, but I bet some people could enjoy it quite a bit.

no way. pity fucks are usually administered by someone well out of your league. that's a beautiful thing. that should be the goal.

I can think of worse things. Who the fuck cares? Of the people I've known who've taken them, they seemed pretty happy to get some. It's just sex, maybe not the ideal, but in the end...just sex.

i'll take a pity fuck right about now.

"admit it tiggy. kazoo's author friend rings a pathetic poetry bell in you doesnt it. " Of course he does, and I've been saying that all along. BTW, you ring a pathetic rebuttal bell, byatch.