Greatest Living Poet

* One really profound way poetry blogs can bore the shit out of people is by mentioning other people. Why should anyone give much of a crap about who you hang out with? Isn't that what flickr's for? Who you had lunch with or who showed up at your reading may only be interesting to you. If you're dropping famous poet names it means you're a low rent nobody. Unless it's in the act of trashing them: I think everybody loves stuff like that: Hooray! Realness! Or do blog-readers really want to be *lied to*?

To me, using your blog for acts of unironic self-hyping should be almost totally verbotten in 2006. I mean, at least make a joke out of it (Title: I am Using My Blog to Alert You About This Event Because I'm Worried No One Is Going To Show Up). If you're blogging in the first place it's a sign to the rest of the world that you're a poet that can't just get by being a poet. You need to talk people into loving you day by day (I'm even further skeptical of the blogs that get by entirely by linking to other's people's projects--that just smacks to me of an even heavier level of name-dropping and desperately cries to me "See? I'm your den mother! Love me!" I'm very tough to please and most bloggers will never win my love. Also, appeals to self-googlers when it doesn't involve bowling for sex loses you 50 points, too. How will poets ever move beyond their most obnoxious and most self-serving behaviors if they are constantly being affirmed on-line each and every day? "Everyone else is doing it, etc." Neuroticism has always had an overrated charm on American Poetry. Fuck it and those who use it to get what they want.). I know most people don't know what to do with their blogs and have been taught that obnoxious self-righteous niceness is really the way to go. I put a very low value on being polite and a high much higher regard for being real. People who are fake polite are like those soccer players that fall down trying to get penalties: fucking annoying and not fooling anyone. Any encounter not interesting enough to make it into a poem isn't interesting enough for a superior poetry blog ("I fucked the Bush Twins / On the Brooklyn Bridge / Between wooshing Express Trains"). And passive-agressive blog stuff stinks like farts, while agressive-agressive stuff is like hot steamy internet jackpot.

Here's a handy guide to the ways I'd want to be blogged about.

1. Don't mention me on your blog. Too many people already know who I am.

2. Don't link to my blog on your blog. Too many people read this blog already. If you can help it, don't read this blog. You're just encouraging me to try to push you away even harder. It is a vicious game you and I are playing.

3. Don't mention me in comments fields--comment fields are about as interesting as poetry workshops. The worst by-product of the internet by far is the plurality of people who believe their opinion matters, when literally there are only a handful of people with opinions interesting enough to even bother reading.

4. Don't mention that I did or did not attend your reading. What an insane thing to do. If you want to ensure my attendance, promise me hot sex. If I attend your reading, do you think I need to be reminded about it on your blog? Or if I purposefully blew it off, you think I'm gonna forget doing that? It's extraordinary: the apparent belief of some, that things don't really happen unless they are confirmed on one's blog. Or that people who attend poetry readings need to see their names in the credits. Or that private conversations ought to happen in front of the entire class (most of the blog audience, as I've written, are just horny poets that can't get laid because they're old and mediocre--why talk to anyone through them?). People are busy, poetry readings are often boring (reading about them even moreso--unless you read inside of a glass display case, jump off a roof naked, get heckled by bagpipes (I wish more poets would do shit like that!)) and you should be thankful for the audience you get and not use your audience as anything more than a filled seat filled for that moment. Chances are if Ashbery (say) did show up he might just as easily have been bored and think you suck. People who photograph the audience are just hopeless, by the way. That look photograped audiences have in photographs? "Stop photographing me and fucking read." It's OK, by the way, if you're a nervous reader at poetry reading to win the audience over with a simple: "I'm a nervous reader at poetry readings like this." Most poetry schtick (91%) falls flat. Because most poets take themselves too seriously and are not funny at all. Frankly.

5. Don't say nice things about me on your blog. Wait til I'm dead. Then you can go on and on about how surprising sweet I am. You can trash me on your blog. That would be great. Let's get it on.

6. Don't flirt with me on your blog. I'll probably approach you if I'm interested. It's gotten almost impossible to judge someone's attractiveness online, in my opinion. It was silly to have internet crushes. Most crush list members were substantially disappointing in person and almost entirely uncrushworthy had I simply met them first (I don't believe much in the blog-friendship, either. Those are built on cliffs.). Most everyone can take a cute photo of themselves, cutting out beer guts and stuff (I SURE CAN). And, if you're flirting with me I'll probably never know or just be immediately skeptical. Moving away from being infatuated with crazies and toward those capable of handling some shit (Good Advice, Ted: feminine, marvelous, tough).

There's more--I'll think of it. I think for a long time with the reading series I ran, the poetry magazines, etc, some people abused my good nature and desire to facilitate things. Remember, I'm an Aquarius. I felt like, for a long time, I had to use my powers equally and not play favorites. In Boston I often felt like I was the only game in town and should therefore give everyone a shot. But that got abused. That's out the window. I'm a reasonable guy who wants to love you. But it's definitely *you*. I'm a publicist for a living and I've always hated publicists. About the only times I like getting pitched is when I don't know it. Hype yourself to me at your peril. I'm smart enough to figure out who's for real and who's a drag. I don't attack people I think are sweet. I don't hassle geniuses. Remember: this blog is about me. If you wanna ride, that's cause I'm a crazy-twisting roller coaster that'll make you feel like the bottom is falling out on you. Woooooosh.