Subject: Poetry Aftermath

Date: 03 Feb 1999 00:00:00 GMT

From: (Jahweh W)

Organization: a wonderful wooden reason

Newsgroups: alt.freaks, alt.foot.fat-free

References:1 , 2 , 3


Thus spake


>david lynch wrote:


>> In alt.freaks wrote:

>> > Subject: Re: Bomb Instructions and Kiddie Porn

>> > Date: Sat, 30 Jan 1999 18:01:03 -0800

>> > From: "*.truwe" <truwe at>

>> > Organization: Turtles All the Way Down


>> WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? I saw it on a Zappa webpage devoted to bootleg

>> tapes.


>Which one? This stuff | or Pop's header?

> V


>Because I have no idea what the above means.


No, Pop's header. I had no idea what all that stuff I wrote was, either. To

be honest I think I'm starting to crack under the pressure. I cleared the

first major hurdle, though: the Writing of a Poem. It's not that I can't

WRITE poetry, mind you; it's the turning it in that's the difficult part. My

poetry expires anywhere from five seconds to three hours after I finish

writing it; after that I find it too loathsome to acknowledge its existence.

Probably writing poetry is the closest I come to getting drunk and having

meaningless sex in this regard, which if you think about it is really pretty

sad, although I couldn't say why because I haven't thought about it. So

usually what I wind up doing is frantically writing poetry in the middle of

class in the hope that I won't wind up hating it by the time I get called on.


Not that I'm worried about being scorned by my peers, mind you. My

professor's method of teaching this course is to avoid saying anything bad

about our writing as much as is humanly possible, and to praise our work at

every possible opportunity, including inside the syllabus, where she calls us

"exceptionally talented". Presumably we earned this moniker through being

able to navigate U of L's telephone registration system to the point where we

were registered for the course. Actually, if this is the case I have no

choice but to agree, as telephone registration is not one of my favorite

activities. Still, it seems the philosophy of this class is that creative

writing is insufficiently renumerative enough that making people feel bad

about their writing would just be too much, especially in a 200 level course.


None of which I have any particular problem with- feel free to call me a

genius as many times as you like, really- but we also have peer workshops on

these things, in which we get to read them aloud and hear the rest of the

class gingerly critique it, which rather brings to mind Frank Zappa's 1979

appearance as a judge on the disco game show "Dance Fever"*. For instance, I

would generally go so far to suggest that a poem about a loose tooth one had

as an eight-year-old does not call for the repeated use of violent rape

imagery in the most incoherent manner imaginable. Translated into in-class

criticism, this came out as "vivid". I find that my business curriculum is

serving me well here- when I absolutely cannot think of anything else to say

about a poem, I call it "dynamic". Written poems are even better. For them,

I've taken to circling random words in them ("shorn", "whitewashed", "about")

in the hope that their respective authors will interpret this as being at

least vaguely complimentary.


That was this morning, of course. Things are different now. I am now

officially under so much stress that I am communicating exclusively in

high-pitched monkey squeals. You think I am kidding? Call me on the phone.

I'll answer. "AAAAAA-eeba-eeba-eeba."




* "I thought Couple #2 were peppy and energetic. I gave them a 96."