Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Poetry Will Get You So Laid

Y’know when you get your car stuck in snow, and there’s that friend of yours who’s so convinced that it’s just a temporary problem that he heaves and jerks at the thing until he’s collapsed on the ground in a panting, sweating puddle of wasted-effort? Like, you knew there was no possible way to get that fucker out, but you had to admire your friend’s plucky resolve, his spunk, regardless?

That’s kinda how I feel about Soul Intoxicated.

Oh, there’s a ton of reasons to attack this blog with every bit vitriol I have at my disposal - it is, after all, a gothic-themed spider-web of love poetry and self-importance - but I’m hesitant. Sure, reading some 20-year-old’s musings about love and life can be grating, and even though I’m still shuddering from that one about Jesus returning, I’ve got to appreciate his balls.

I mean, honestly, it takes a nutsack bigger than a cow’s head to submit a gaggle of love poems to a site with "I Will Fucking Tear You Apart" as an address.

Now, that doesn’t mean it’s good, necessarily, or that I’ll ever, for any reason, ever go back there again; it just means that, in theory, I can dig that he’s doing something a little bit different. Hell, I can’t say I was writing poems of better quality when I was his age...but I can say that I wrote myself out of them after I met my current girlfriend, and the world’s a better place for it.

I’m wondering if that’s the case here, if Lover Boy is just shooting his wad of anguish over a lost love, because he’s got some talent...if he decides to stop interjecting clichéd pictures of sand running through fingers and knock-off Titanic photos, he may be on to something.

Then again, maybe not: this is a transcribed online conversation that’s longer than three flights to Japan wherein this pup of a poet takes to dispensing love advice. It’s like he’s trying to sabotage my review, making it impossible for me to justify giving a good grade to something I spent twenty-minutes wincing at.

"Lover": self-editing is a miraculous thing - it’s good to occasionally remind yourself that just because you wrote something in your notebook doesn’t mean the whole world has to see it, dude.

As it stands, I’m going to have bestow the dreaded Abercrombie-moose-thing as a rating - I don’t quite understand it myself, but it seems fitting.

It just feels right, y’know?


  1. You were surprisingly kind. Someone must have had morning sex. ;)

  2. What can I say? I'm a total fucking sweetheart...

  3. i'd write such a review for this guy myself, heck, it was big fun reading your words :D



  4. Jeebus, you were WAY nicer than I would have been. I HATE HATE HATE poetry. I hate poetry blogs even more.

  5. he does tend to wallow...
    but the boy has got talent..

  6. I can't stand reading it because of the scrolly background thing. My eyes!


Grow a pair.