[A barefoot 20-something white male wearing a white Run DMC t-shirt and black fitted jeans sits in a high-backed faux leather rolling chair browsing the Craigslist personal ads. An agenda, a checkbook, a receipt pad, and various unidentifiable papers lay scattered on his glass-top desk threatening to fall onto the hardwood floor with each spin of the ceiling fan. But the small study, which is accessible from his bedroom and the living room, is generally tidy with the exception of a few balled up papers that lay around a stainless steel trash bin--failed three pointers. He scans several ads within two minutes with titles like "Cute, Curvy Blonde - 21," "Sexy College Student - 18," and "Young Hopeless Romantic - 24" appearing on the screen of his Mac Book Pro. He clicks on the post entitled "23 Y/O Redhead Seeks Attractive W/M for FW(out)B Relationship - 23," reads over it twice, highlights the anonymous email link, opens his Yahoo! email account in a new tab, clicks the compose icon, pastes the link into the "To" line, and begins to type. The vibrant, green leaves of a two and a half foot tall plant shake as the window unit a/c a few feet away blows at it. The rolling chair squeaks as he nervously bounces his right leg up and down.]
David: [He types.] Hey, how's it going? I saw your ad on CL [he deletes the "CL" and types "Craigslist"], and you sound like my kind of girl. [He pauses, re-reads his two sentences, chuckles, shakes his head, looks around pensively, and continues typing.] I'm a freelance journalist with a masters in creative writing from NYU. I just moved here a few months ago. I haven't really gotten used to the change of pace yet, maybe you could help me? I'd love to hang out sometime. It's always nice to meet new people especially when you don't really know anyone--as I do not.
[He re-reads all that he's typed and adjusts the grammatical errors. He leans back in his chair and rhythmically pats his knees as he thinks about what he'll say next. He pulls his computer to his lap.]
David: [Typing...] The perfect first date for me would be a picnic by the river behind the zoo at sunset. We could get a six pack of Abita Amber, walk barefoot in the grass, and just hang out and get to know each other. I make great pies. I could bring one. Lemon merengue is my personal favorite but I'm willing to compromise I suppose. Sorry for not including a picture, but I've never done this whole Craigslist personal thing before and I just don't feel comfortable sending a stranger my photograph. I hope you'll understand. Also, if you could call in response instead of emailing that'd be awesome. I just like to know that I'm talking to a real, non-prostitute woman sooner than later. My number is 917-700-6512. Hope to hear from you soon. David.
[David closes his laptop, assesses his desk top, and shuffles his papers into a stack with no particular order.]
Thursday, September 27, 2012
23 Y/O Redhead Seeks Attractive W/M for FW(out)B Relationship
As much as I like going to bars, catching live shows, and hanging out with friends, I'm usually too busy to do so because I'm so studious, so I rarely have opportunity to meet guys the "traditional" way. I figured I'd give CL a shot.
I'm looking for a physically fit, D/D free, intelligent, well-educated, well-read, professional, family-oriented, w/m between 25-32 who is at least 5'10" and has obtained at least a masters degree in either a liberal arts or business related field in which he is currently employed and makes at least six figures for a non-platonic relationship without sex.
YOU MUST: live uptown, have your own place/car, be attractive (and able to prove it), and speak proper English.
No dick pics please! If you've seen one, you've seen them all.
Respond with your idea of a perfect first date and maybe we can make it happen.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
To Nig or Not to Nig: The Question of the 2012 Presidential Election
Now, when I get followed in department stores it's because the clerks have something really important to tell me, and when my brother gets pulled over by the police, it's because they think he's lost and want to offer directions (and I can only call my biological brother "my brother").
So, I'm taking a survey: we either start a support group for people who feel their personality has been displaced by the absence of racism or we work to support the Romney campaign.
Option A--Support Group:
As we try to stifle our perceptive and analytical abilities, we will work together to come to grips with the fact that the treatment we formerly believed to be a manifestation of racism actually stems from the unique ability of white Americans to perceive the flaws and needs of persons whom they do not know.
We will also refine our math skills because, as we are well aware, one black president in all American history signifies our equality. So one now must equal 41.
Option B--Campaign for Romney:
This is pretty self-explanatory. We immerse ourselves in the campaign for Mitt Romney's presidential election because if he were to be elected chances are things will return to normal: Racism will be resurrected and the olive branch retracted. The need for a support group will therefore be null and void.
Sure, he's a Republican and he's not too fond of women's rights; but he couldn't possibly have any negative feelings towards black people while Obama is still in office. Once he's gone, though, Romney'll hopefully be a real racist Reagan Republican--exactly what we want!
I personally believe Option A to be the better of the two because--let's be real (excuse me, realistic)--Romney's not going to win unless there's a repeat of 2000. In which case, it would be an actual accident if thousands of black Floridians' ballots go missing. *Crossed fingers*
Friday, September 14, 2012
Critique #2: David Sedaris's "What I Learned"
In the essay "What I Learned," David Sedaris juxtaposes his metaphorically primitive and barbaric college experience first as an undergraduate student at Princeton and later as a graduate with his parents's ideals of the opportunities an Ivy League education would create. Readers follow Sedaris's reflections on his journey from acceptance to Princeton to the publication of his first book and his parents' opinions along the way. He uses imagery masterfully. Sedaris weaves the story of the metaphorical Princeton that burns failed students alive, that offers patricide and matricide majors and idol-worship classes, and whose graduates go on to become rat catchers with non-fictional accounts of his excessively proud father and his father's heavily bumper-stickered station wagon, living with his parents after graduating, the puppy that replaced him in his parents' home, and his parents' disappointment with his first book. Sedaris does not simply tell readers that he attended Princeton many years ago... and it was a lot different... because back then the grading was different... and they expected students to be humble... but his dad constantly boasted about him being a Princeton student... and when he became a literature major his parents thought it was a waste of an Ivy League education... and when he graduated he was one of several in his class who was not immediately employed... and his parents gave up hope on him... but then he wrote a book... that they didn't like. The story itself could be summed up in a horrible run on sentence like the one above (not a particularly interesting run-on sentence at that). But because he provided vivid imagery instead of delivering blatant facts or opinions, the essay is more engaging. For example, instead of just saying that the pass-fail system employed in his day fucked over a lot of people, he says that those who failed were burned alive "on a pyre that's now the Transgender Studies Building" (27). He provides an image that appeals to both the sense of smell and the sense of sight, when he says, "Following the first grading period, the air was so thick with smoke you could barely find your way across campus. There were those who said that it smelled like meat, no different from barbecue" (27). In saying that, he successfully conveys the thought that many students failed to make it to the second semester.
Friday, September 7, 2012
The Plumber
"It is the job of poetry to clean up our word-clogged reality by creating silences around things."
--Stephen Mallarme
Our reality-clogged silences clean up the poetry of creating word things around the job it is by.
Our job-clogged reality is it. Poetry silences the things to clean by creating around of word up
Silences. Our things-clogged clean by creating the job of poetry it is up around of reality word
Word-creating is the clean up job. Our poetry silences reality by creating around things clogged of it
Clean-clogged poetry is job of the Word. Our reality things creating silences up it by around
--Stephen Mallarme
Our reality-clogged silences clean up the poetry of creating word things around the job it is by.
Our job-clogged reality is it. Poetry silences the things to clean by creating around of word up
Silences. Our things-clogged clean by creating the job of poetry it is up around of reality word
Word-creating is the clean up job. Our poetry silences reality by creating around things clogged of it
Clean-clogged poetry is job of the Word. Our reality things creating silences up it by around
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