Monday, January 30, 2006

Damnit, Jim, I'm a Doctor Not an Idiot!

Rachel and Casey seem to have gone on Blog Strike or something. I keep getting a 404 error. Fix your shit, ladies.

Foremost is the poetry in my Creative Writing class. I just read everyone's submission, including my own, in the order in which they are going to be read and reviewed. I can say with all the hubris of my being that mine lands squarely in center of the pack. There were a couple that I really, really, liked. The first was written by a guy who's taking the class for the 3rd time, and the guy's got some talent. His poem was about walking around drinking and ogling attractive European ladies. I ask you, what's not to like about that? The other was written by a girl I know, about her ambivalence at playing her guitar after her teacher/boyfriend left her.

Yeah, I hear your screaming. What about mine? I'll post it after it's been work shopped to death in a week or so. Nothing but the finest (shitty) poetry (equally shitty) for you guys, I say.

The poetry I hated (and I mean wipe my ass with a pinecone before sullying my ass with those words type hate here) was the whiny life sucks poetry. You know what I'm talking about. "I'm in pain and I'm not going to say why. I just hurt." Someone call these fucking crybabies a whambulance, kuz nobody gives a shit, sugar. At least tell me why. Your girlfriend cheated on you, your gramps died of an inflamed hernia, you've got a bad case of camel toe, your dog's having puppies....SOMETHING! You gota give me something. You hurt? So do I. But what you haven't told me is why I should give up 5 seconds of my time to stop and care. If you're going to write a poem about emotions, you need to at least use them in the process. You have to touch them in some meaningful way. It's a risky thing to do, and (I hesitate to use the word...) "work" of that sort risks nothing.

I never feel more cheated, artistically, when I can tell someone isn't even trying. You don't have to be perfect, or even good. I used to read Dragonlance novels for crying out loud! But you have to say something a little thoughtful. If you can't do that, play Henry Miller and say nothing, but make it so interesting I can't stop reading. This is Creative Writing not How To Write An Episode of NYPD Blue 101. I understand finding creativity is difficult, that's why I steal as much as possible from people more creative (nice driveway). Hell, my entire poem is really a poor Harlan Ellison impression in poetic form. But at least I did it in a creative way. And that's how I can sleep at night.

I keep getting distracted by people, here at the coffee shop. So I'll stop here. I think next time I may get into why I love hockey so much. And don't worry, Rhys, I want to get back into DJing and getting me laid isn't going to expedite the process.

...then again, it just might.

3 Comments:

At 5:45 PM, Anonymous rae. said...

my shit is dead. no more bloggy for me!

 
At 6:38 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Actually, I'm more of a fan of DJing getting one laid. Not that it ever worked.

 
At 6:38 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

-Jesse

 

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