Kurt’s gone. I miss him.

As always, last night’s Cringe reading, hosted by the lovely, talented, and unsinkable Sarah Brown, was a pants-pissin’ hoot-n-holler. I hadn’t been in a while because of a cursed (to be read ‘curs-ed’, fyi) Wednesday night class last semester, so it was great to be back in the teenage-angsty fray. The awesome/sucky thing was that it’s gotten so hip that it was SRO by the time I got there, which was 15 minutes before it started. Since I didn’t keep a journal or write bad poetry (or good poetry) in my adolescence, I opted not to read because the only material I have is purely nerdlinger shit, e.g. the absurdist-slash-Little House on the Prairie-inspired fiction I wrote when I was 11, or a speech I wrote at the end of a summer writing program, which I titled, parentheticals included, “My Speech to the Graduates (which actually includes me so I’m changing the title to ‘My speech to Us’).” I told Sarah I’d save those for when, by some fluke, she’s short on readers.

One fun thing was that I recruited my friend Lamar to read some stuff, which included a back-and-forth note (folded in the shape of a hat, of course) with the hockey-lover who had a crush on her, and a truly spectacular break-up poem. As usual, Aaron demonstrated that there is such thing as a tweeny beat poet with the songs he wrote in middle school. While there are usually far more girls to read than boys, because duh, the boys who did read provided some of the best material. Stuart shared a journal entry entitled “What the hell was I thinking, on paper,” in which he chronicled getting schnockered at a pub (he’s British) after meeting a nice girl, and falsely proclaimed to his friends “I attained her!”. Harris read some great material from his high school journal, which was a composition book adorned with pictures of Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader, Kurt Cobain, a poster of The Basketball Diaries, and lyrics to a Spin Doctors song. It only struck me later that those Star Wars stickers were on his notebook when he was 17. In 1995.

And lastly, I finally met Kate live and in person, a full year after I moved to New York and we started the usual rounds of “we totally have to hang out!” emails, and then everyone flakes.

Oh, and lastly lastly, as of yesterday I am legally free to go through men like Kleenex, except that, you know, I’m not.*

*Not free to do so, that is– thanks to Greg for pointing out the ambiguity. Just in case anyone was thinking of stalking me.

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6 Comments

  1. Not what–going through men like Kleenex at the moment, or free to do so? The latter would make more sense, but if it’s the former, I’d say get on that. Or them, as the case may be.

  2. Oh sorry, I guess that wasn’t clear (this is why I’m in grad school for writing)– I meant I’m not free to do so. I’ll edit that, because I wouldn’t want people to think I’m a prude. Or ugly.

  3. With or without lotion? Because the ones with lotion you can use a couple times.

  4. Schnockered?
    Did I say that?

    I like the word, LOVE the word…just never heard it before.

    Schnockered.

    It…fits.

    Anyway, thank you for the praise for my self-embarrassment skills. I’ve been working on them for quite some time. Practice being the thing, you know.

  5. A- That’s why I call you my little Puffs Plus, baby.

    S- You didn’t say that, I was paraphrasing. But I’m glad I could teach you a new American word.

  6. I can feel a NYC visit coming on…thought I’d warn you.

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