Don’t do it, Bloog! It’s too late. 20 years too late. What did you call it, a blog? No one blogs anymore. If you had kept at it 15 years ago maybe you could have been a youtube star by now.
I know but…
You’re just setting yourself up for pain when all of your – whattaya call them? – words go out into space. People don’t read words now days and the few who do aren’t going to find yours.
I know but…
I mean you can do what you want. I can’t stop you. But you don’t even have a social media presence. Why not? I know why not but you need one. And, really, it’s almost even too late for that.
Maybe that’s why. To help us all devolve gracefully since we’ve obviously reached our apex.
Every pretend niche-artiche says that. Edgy no longer twitters. So X that. Unless you only want an audience of 10.
I’ve always only had an audience of 10.
That’s another thing. Weren’t you happy earlier having given all this up and resting on your la… maginings? No. Probably not. Then what is it exactly you are going to blog about?
Much. I’m a maven of blog ideas. I was born for it. Me Bloog. It will be a Tropicana of topics. Better than covering the gamut. This will not be a pretend niche-artiche pome bloggin site. No indeed.
You don’t have a plan…
I’m even going to throw some sports in.
And when you don’t gain an audience?
Politics.
How about Fashion?
Fuck no.
Celebrity?
Only when they die.
Or you can stop now. Come home. I hear you’re getting less bad on the guitar. But focus now. Let’s look at a couple more niches.
Technology.
Uh
Science.
Sure.
What do you know anything about?
Nothing.
You’ll be in the literature and poetry space. Outer space.
No! This is not a poetry blog. Is not now and won’t be in the future. It’s about current events mostly maybe perhaps through a literature lens. Barely. But not poetry. I wouldn’t. I hate it. Those things that you can read if you go through the door below.. Those are not poems. They are short stories. Sometimes very short. Even the one that says there are no things in this poem is not a poem. It is used ironically.
What then is a poem?
That is not correct. The question is how then is a poem.
All right. How?
That won’t be answered here. This is not a poetry blog. Wasn’t it you who told me to read Dylan Thomas?
That was a very long time ago.
Look. People need to know where I stand on this poetry blog question.
What people?
I hate your
stupid poetry
Or should I say
your diary entry
with a
bunch of stupid
line breaks
I hate your stupid poetry or should I say your diary entry with a bunch of stupid line breaks.
There. Fixed.
I hate your stupid references fished out of the poet’s reference pool as if the more you can reference marble or Greece the better humanity.
I hate your stupid imagery like “I am my mother’s thighs whispering.” No you are not. Shut the fuck up.
I hate your bio-s. I don’t care. I don’t want to read about your unique contributions overcoming your anythings.
I hate your insipid politics (tho chances are we probably generally agree).
I especially hate your 45 word clever broken lined ambiguously cut diamond while you pat yourself on the back and say “I’ve written a poem.” I don’t care about the rush you felt after you initially finished it. I hate it.
I hate your stupid industry. Poets and Writers. I don’t read them and they don’t read me (they are allowed to if they’d like). I’ve never submitted a poem to a literary rag, a college magazine, or entered a contest.
Okay
Wait there’s more.
Yeah. This is going to be a blog about how you hate poetry and how you hate yourself. Well guess what? No one cares.
All right. I’ll tell you the real reason except for those unconscious motivations that I am unaware of. I might have a book to sell this year. I just want to have a website or two up and ready when it happens. Especially if Random House doesn’t come begging but I think they would be crazy not to because I’ve seen it. So that is why I am starting a bloog.
Are you supposed to say that out loud?
None of this should have been said out loud because it was childish. I expect to write to myself for months. No audience. I’m not even telling anyone. Frankly, I’d feel embarrassed to. No publicity. I expect nothing of course. No traffic. Nothing.
Okay. When is your first sports blog?
Soon. But I want to take the time to assure every… myself that the word I appears a lot in this blog so far. I am aware of this and make a promise that as time goes by the I will slowly disappear.
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