James Wagner and Suzanne Stein

I don't know how Suzanne Stein is as a poet or as a reader, and I might never find out. She read at Pegasus last night, and was so rude to me that I will more than likely avoid her work like Danielle Steel's. She was not rude to me personally, but she was rude to the audience, I think.
She read that interview thing that Bill Berkson read with Lyn Hejinian at Moe's not so long ago. What is that? People yawn openly through the intro, and maybe it's because they already know what the deal is, but I am completely in the dark. If it is a real interview, I have to say that reading it to us sucks. Sucks with a capital "S." I would gladly read it, but why are you reading it to me? If it is entirely fictitious, it is kind of cool. . . a little cool. . . very little. But it's still boring. . . with a capital "B." There were some people in the audience who got little references and twittered when they recognized them––someone even called out that they knew a reference at one point––but I hate that kind of reading. . . like it's some kind of inside joke that I am not privy to. That is exactly what people hate about poetry that are not in the scene. It's what keeps people away from poetry. What the fuck is the point of that!?!
Another thing that keeps people away are people who read like robots. You know how the Macintosh computer speaks? That voice that is somewhere between Stephen Hawking's robot's and a real human's? That's what James Wagner sounded like. It would not have been so bad if he hadn't followed such a stinker, but man, it was intolerable. And I was in a seat that was so situated that I could not leave tactfully–––not that it is tactful to say all this in a blog, but it is a small thing to rant a bit after such a torturous experience. The young woman I brought with me, not a stranger to readings, destroyed her cuticles in one of those zone-outs that befalls those who suffer from extreme boredom. It was worse than one of those 8-hour/day courses your boss made you take on computer maintenance for your job.

Yeah, but are they good poets? I have no idea. Maybe they're people I should not bad-mouth. Maybe they would like to smash me to bits when they hear about this post. It's not like I hide my identity or anything. They might be great poets whom I am unjustly defaming. But the reading sucked. It was really bad. Next time I hear a real trash-talker, those people who take pot-shots at hot-shots like poetry snark, I am going to tell them about this reading.

Come to think of it, poetry snark is shit. I am taking them off my links.

Felix and Mickey

Have you ever noticed that Mickey and Felix look strikingly similar? There is an urban legend that centers around the idea that Felix was actually designed by Walt Disney &co and was promptly stolen by another animator when animation was the newest hottest thing. Disney was paranoid after that.
Everyone knows how protective Disney is regarding Mickey and his pals. Supposedly, this is due to the phenomenon of the burnt child effect. Once a child burns himself, he is likely to have a deep fear from whatever caused him such pain. Like a childhood trauma that leads to phobia, this child will tremble if he is near an active stove top. Maybe Disney once trusted in the intrinsic good nature of his fellow men and now, once that trust had been betrayed by the nefarious animator who allegedly pilfered Felix, the Disney Company will take whatever measures necessary to prevent such a theft from happening again.

Right, but what does this have to do with poetry? The art world is rife with such knavery. People steal and pass off what they have stolen as their own. My former best friend, a person I trusted, has done it to me after he ridiculed the very ideas he is now claiming are his. It's hard not to be paranoid when you are stolen from. Once your car has been broken into, you'll circle blocks as many times as it takes to find a "safe" parking spot.

Filthy people. They abound. There is no way to avoid them I suppose, except to develop thicker callouses. But I don't want callouses. Callouses are ugly.