Robert (gurdonark) wrote,

from the archive of vanished posts

This morning's post dealt with William Jewel McGonagall, the Scots bad poet, who wrote about whales and the Queen's Jubilee, believing he was a genius, but in fact being invited to perform so that people could jeer; a poetry reading I attended at the Iguana Cafe in North Hollywood, California, hosted by one of my wife's old college classmates; how I failed to win the fondness of said classmate during a debate in which I explained my theory of bad poetry as "not this, not that" when she kept talking about things like the inner critical eye; her own surprising skill as a poet, after her screenplay did not sell; the Iguana Cafe owner's gruff, shouted pride that the only support he gave that reading was renting the room; a poem read there by an elementary school principal read about the things the nuns said at the private school he attended as a child, and the double entendre some of those things involved; the time I eBayed "Chess Poems for the Tournament Player" in Dutch Auction for one penny each, using the ad title "Worst Chess Poem Book You'll Ever Own", prompting a bright purchaser to leave the feedback "Product EXACTLY as advertised"; what it is that prompts those of us who are not "really" artists or poets to wish to express ourselves; the virtues of self-promotion; how "real" artists can show their authenticity and what is real, but how writing by "non-artists" can sometimes show a delightful artifice; how sometimes when I write things that are trite or sentimental it is because I am; and how interconnection is what matters. The post was preceded by a poem about going to see an exhibition whale at sixpence a head. It was titled "Wednesday's child in rhyme". I invoked Ogden Nash once, and self-expression as a way to deal with woe once. When I finished it, I moved the mouse to set the cursor on "Update journal". But the mouse no longer worked, and the post vanished.

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