Don't Have a COW, Man

“The wind woke me…”

That’s how the Council of Writers’ (COW) creative writing reading began Friday night. It was the first line of the first poem of the first speaker. As soon as I heard it, I felt this sudden and painful lump in my gut. At first I thought it was just gas, or perhaps a horribly messy case of diarrhea. It turns out that it was pure revulsion.

The wind woke me. Who wakes up to the wind in real life? Fuck that. I wake up when my alarm goes off for the third time.

At these readings, grad students in the creative writing program (MFAs as they like to be called) read their latest scribblings. The whole thing took place at this coffee shop that truly embodies the word “pretentious.” It’s called “Zen Clay;” it serves overpriced coffee and what appears to be Ramen soup – in other words, it was the perfect place for this event.

The waking wind was hardly the worst offender. I was treated to grandiose descriptions of blankets, trinkets, dresses, cancer, and doll testicles. Okay, that last one was actually pretty cool, but the rest of it reeked of pure bullshit. Listening to poems and short stories like the ones at this function make me feel like my life is painfully dry and dull. These guys find meaning in the wrinkled creases of their father’s old jackets. I see a donation for the Salvation Army.

I spent a semester as a creative writer, and that’s why I couldn’t make it. I’m far too plot-oriented. My pathetic attempts at poeticism were even worse. I’m well aware that poems don’t have to rhyme, but mine always seemed to look like Dr. Seuss’s rejection pile.

I once bought a tasty ham
It went well with bread and jam

Leave it to me to wax poetical about food.

A few of the poems were quite funny, and those were the ones that worked. They didn’t get bogged down in pretentiousness, but they still worked on an aesthetic level (see, I can use English-type terminology if I want). The ones about mothers who knit dresses out of tablecloths as they are dying of cancer… well… perhaps Cold Case is looking for new writers.

The friend who told me about this reading suggested that I would get a big kick out of it for all the wrong reasons. She was right.

Edit: It occurred to me this morning that perhaps attacking half of the English department could lead to unforeseen and undesirable consequences since a large portion of my readership is in the aforementioned English department. So let me say this: If I have offended you in any way, don't do anything hasty like bringing it to the attention of my superiors. Do the mature thing... make fun of my pathetic, uncreative, misanthropic ass instead. There's plenty of material to work with there.

---------------------------------

The MFA Program - Keeping bullshit alive for generations of wannabe-poets to come.