To be honest, my poetry, when I look up from the page to see what I've written, is often too full of overt political declarations, it's what I'm best at rhythmically, propulsively, embarrassingly, I'm so much better at that than I am the object-subject-subject-object-ology of poetry I somehow came to believe was superior, poetry's aim and goal.
Perhaps he was at the time too enamored of Bobby Xgau, whose male feminism got HIM a woman artist. But I think I'd rather be alone than with a pretentious woman. And I'd surely rather be alone than pretend to be something I'm not to gain something I don't even really want deep down inside.**
What frauds. What hammy C-movie actors on this Stage of Life.
They remind me of everything wrong with cliques, tribalism, and condescension-by-comparison -- which also is known by the term "passive-aggressive display."
Chalupa tells us he's "good at" a kind of poetry.
Hey: Chalupa: you're not.
If your poetry was anything but pretense, it could stand on its own without graph paper or watercolor gussying it up in hopes you will, thanks to the graph paper/watercolor distraction from the content itself, end up as the Fad of the Moment.
Perhaps the internet should let you know what you're "good at"?
You know -- in the same way you've done for about 10 yrs now, under various handles, at others' interweb homes?
Here's what you're slightly above-average at doing, Chalupa.
-being a condescender-by-comparison, while thinking you're making witty observations about fools whose foolishness needs exposing to the wider world.
-and imitating the "artists" you think "matter."
Here's what you're really good at doing, Chalupa.
-being still 15 yrs old, still dressing like the Kool Kids dress, still talking like the Kool Kids talk, still doing whatever Kool Kids things the Kool Kids did that made them the Kool Kids in your 15 year old mariposita mind.
When I emerge from this chrysalis I shall sprout beautiful wings and fly well over your head, you redneck Republican helmetball fan! screamed 15 year old Chalupa at his arch-enemy Gavin McSorley, Irish Catholic son of an auto mechanic who attracted the girls without any effort, and who was lusted after by Chalupa and the other maripositas in the PE showers, his louche dirty-fingernailed-and-obviously-hetero-ness not an obstacle to the same-sex lust of the little Ernst Rohms and James Whales and pseudo-Oscar Wildes of Chalupa's HS.
That McSorley is such a helmetball redneck! He's the reason all the girls don't notice my immense fashion sense and invite me into their inner circle! Always making fun of how I talk, calling me Paul Lynde, but I'm not on Hollywood Squares and I'm definitely not a square! I'm cooler than an icicle!
Naturally it was inevitable Chalupa would, in his early 40s, decide he needed to be a blogger and not only that, but a blogger who blogs as if he's a celebrity whose opinions about everything are what the world is waiting to hear. He thought that if he let everyone know he listened to Kool Kids music and admired artfag-hero artists and "understood" the greatest most hollow pretenders in poetry and "poetry" and all other more standard formattings of "the language arts", then perhaps he really was a celebrity whose very perspiration droplets (men sweat, women perspire) are what the gen-pub clamor for and fight over and want badly to drink, bottle, or merely worship themselves.
A decade into the project, he began trumpeting his status as a Kool Kid of politics: a Donkeyphile who has had his Obamapostasy; a Donkeyphile who says he's a "leftist," a Donkeyphile who says bad things about Elephants and even worse things about those who refuse to choose a side in Donkey vs Elephant.
I've always been a Red, a Leftist. Red in the historical sense, not in the Red State/Blue State sense. Voted Obama. Voted Kerry. Voted Clinton. Voted Dukakis. Would have voted Carter in 1980 if a couple years older. Red as red can be. Blood red. And very gauche.
And it depresses me, because I live among helmetball fans instead of football (soccer) fans, among Elephant fans instead of Donkeyphiles, among Christians instead of Atheists & Jews, and among long-form writers instead of word-artist poets.
Thus, I am the Black Dog Red. Depressed socialist. Surrounded by Reactionary Christer Cracker Redneck Misogynist Homophobes.
My word artistry is without parallel. Worship me now!
Doesn't this kind of RAGESPEW, reactionary variant, enhanced subtlety sub-genre, just go so well with your herbal tea this morning, Chalupa?
Yield to the absurd hatred of the Other, Chalupa.
Just give in.
--Harold Caidagh, wondering how Chalupa manages to tell himself he's impressive.
**Chalupa wants and longs for the male sexual appendage, and by this I don't mean he's a compulsive masturbator, but instead, is a deluded XY+XY person who is in the closet because he can't let go of his Diego Maradona fantasy from 40 yrs ago and Maradona wasn't a mariposa.