Happy People Suck.

 

***
 

    Happy people - ich.  The words are as disgustingly peppy as the people they describe;  HAP-PEE-PEE-PULL.  Gross, right?  Their unabashed joy is such a downer - who honestly wants to see two puppy lovers making out in line while they wait for their burger in the food court?  Who wants to see a big fat smile or hear a stupid cliche while they're brooding over financial woes or love troubles or are just in a bad mood?  And the absolute worst is when someone tells me, "Cheer up!" - Fuck you, buddy!  Don't tell me what to do!

...asshole.

     I got to thinking about this while listening to some Cat Stevens on my commute.  A friend once told me Cat was, "cheesy."  Honestly, I can't deny there's some truth to that - with songs like, "I Love My Dog," an artist is toeing a fine line between art and dairy products.  For a long time, as a writer myself, I thougt it impossible to write a happy story that was actually any "good" - not Transformers good, but Schindler's List good.  Happy stuff is just kind of... obnoxious!  But you know, I think sometimes a little cheese can make a bad taste better.  Sure, maybe we'll feel awkward while the couple swaps spit, or maybe Mary-from-Accounting's bright-eyed face will seem to be inviting your fist to take a shot, but just roll with it.  It's hard to handle happy people when we're upset, but every time I've rolled my eyes at a bubbly, ear-to-ear smiler, I think I was really just complaining about my own situation.

     "Oh Mister Joyjoy over here's got no problems at all.  Look at you, with your... your teeth and your... your extra large latte.  Yeah, keep smiling, you bastard - I'm glad you can afford that extra large latte.  It's not like some of us have bills to pay or anything.  Not everyone just inherits a rent-controlled apartment, you know?  So, yeah, keep looking down your nose at me, you ass.  Don't bother considering the REST of the world's problems, you narcissistic, self-satisfied prick. "

     See?  It's hard to like all you happy people - no one wants to see all that unadulterated elation, okay?  It's gross.  Go get a room and make out with the mirror if you're so pleased with yourself.  I'll stay here and think about how much I hate that someone else could feel good while I'm sitting here feeling shitty.

Purpose in Poetics - Narcissism and Neglect

    
What happens when people take "write what you know," and "poetry is personal," too far?  Stupid, self-centered poets.  Or perhaps I should say, "more self-centered," if I'm being honest.  Today I look at why I think a lot of poetry from my generation sucks.

***



     We live in a visual world. Television was just the start, providing attention-grabbing visual entertainment with minimal effort. As the medium got older, and TV became more pervasive, the number of programs increased as the quality decreased. The Boob Tube is just that - you can be a couch potato and funnel fun into your frontal lobe for a limited expenditure of energy. With computers, and later, smartphones, we've found a way to make content boobery interactive. When you can digitally water your digital vegetables from anywhere you actually are, why bother with other forms of entertainment? Why bother interacting at all? If you were to add up all the time together, my friends and I have probably spent several full work days together just absorbed in our phones (yes, I am as guilty as anybody). It's just so goddamn addictive.

But what's this got to do with poetry?

Horror, Homosexuality, and Hidden Obssession

     I was watching the new episode of American Horror Story this morning, excited to see what they'd do with the show. I'd started last year with AHS, attracted by its super-creepy advertising and Halloween-timing (this is the time of year I return to Rocky Horror, as well). The show itself, for anyone who hasn't seen it, is golden. It's a little bit like Lost (or what I've heard about Lost, at least) in that you're always having to ask more questions - the difference is that the show was primarily about the supernatural and didn't really rely on explanations of the bizarre occurrences. You knew there were ghosts, and you knew that people were being terrorized, but beyond that, you're basically expected to just enjoy the ride. And what a ride it was.