Thursday, March 04, 2010

Just Enough Time on My Hands

Ah the wide world of poetry. Tuesday night, my program had its first-annual thesis read-in at a local cafe (walking distance from my apartment!). Not officially program-sanctioned, but student-sanctioned, which is more important. This is what it looks like when I read poetry in public, which really only happens every 2-3 years, at this rate (photos courtesy of my friend Eugenia). I had crazier shit planned than what ended up happening, but DARPA and the MAAD caught wind of what I was going to do and pulled their usual strings to keep it from happening. Nonetheless:

Towards a simultaneity of intensity and half-assedness

"There once was a man from Nantucket..."


Blogger nate said...

Nice. So how would you describe this aesthetic? Like MF DOOM-meets-this guy?

Bonus points if you can connect it to the content of your actual poetry, other than the one you did as an undergrad where (if memory serves) one of the sections was just a dinosaur you drew on the page. Which I think makes sense.

3/04/2010 9:02 PM  
Blogger Jack said...

Hey, it's like Robert Frost said -- poetry without an inexplicable faux-sauvage cardboard mask is like tennis with the net down.

[tuneless singing] Nooooooo noo-noo nooo nooo nooo noo-noo noooo . . .

3/04/2010 9:44 PM  

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