Life is Boring Without Friends

[rowens]

I met Hannah Gamble,
where else, but at a cocktail party.
Like John Berryman,
I, too, was heavy bored.
But Hannah didn't bore me.

She used the word "fuck" in front
of an old lady
that's heard that word a hundred
kahundred times!
However,
when Hannah said it,
she was highly impressed.

Being me,
and in such close approximation
to the fully waxed moon
that is Hannah Gamble:
I made a clever euphemism
regarding a cock crowing at midnight.

All the poetry editors in the room
instantly removed from their pockets,
portable phones,
assuring the socially mediumed public
that I—
Not being John Berryman,
but just as heavy bored—
was not as clever as I thought.

Being the literal minded fellow that I am,
I raced home crying
a river as long as the Mississippi;
but deciding not to jump
so far down into self-pity:
I simply wrote another poem,
nowhere as close and clever as Hannah and her
fucks.

[busker]

I followed a bot reading this poem and stumbled upon this masterpiece
Rowens sparkles here, though this would have been very early work

---

No comments in 2013, one in 2024

---

“ However,
when Hannah said it,
she was highly impressed.”

Is peak Beatles

[rowens]

Is the audio still up?

Hannah Gamble, who I was totally into, Friended me on Facebook and then told me off and then Blocked me.


I asked her how she ever even read this poem. She said that someone told her about it.


Ever since then, I knew, Emily

Emily Browning.


Dapnhe. Matilda.

Damn, I spelt Summer wrong!!!!!




_________________________-



No. When Hannah Gamble called me out . . . I was legit in Hangxiety mode, real-bad circa 2011.


She was hot:

---

11/2/13, 1:53 PM
You sent
Some time ago I was given a book of poetry, an invitation to a breakfast, or something like that. I read the poems, then they came back and got it. I liked the book. Is that you? I'm pretty sure it is. I read recently something about Growing a Bear. If you're all one and the same person, I like your stuff, Hannah. I write, but where I live, I'm told poetry is if not dead than boring. But it must not be too boring, because I like it.  What do you do to find find poetry readers these days? Hello, and thanks. Thanks for the poetry. B. Malone
Hannah
and i was like "whuuuut"
Hannah
maybe get a critique elsewhere from a less biased party would be my advice!
Hannah
everyone's poems have to start somewhere
Hannah
they can always get better
Hannah
reading and engaging with other writers is very important
Hannah
Hannah Rebecca Gamble
and letting go of what you think would make a smart or good or clever poem
You sent
I liked your poetry. What I wrote was my ignorant hicktown way of trying to tell you.
Hannah
Hannah Rebecca Gamble
i hear you, billy. i'm glad you liked my poems.
You sent
I can hardly type on this phone. I'm sorry about that.
Hannah
Hannah Rebecca Gamble
sorry about the fact you can't type well on your phone?
You sent
Are you mad? I'm just wondering since you were looking for me.
Hannah
not mad
Hannah
Hannah Rebecca Gamble
just kind of weirded out, and curious
You sent
Why weirded out? Though I can guess.
Hannah
Hannah Rebecca Gamble
" if Hannah Gamble's around, I got a letter for her. Tell her I got something else for her too, if ever she and God are willing. I like her...."
You sent
So I really came off as a jerk then? I write like that. But I honestly wanted your opinions, since it was your book I'd just read. I was being comical, that's all.

---

I was very drunk at the time.
And I wanted to have intercourse with her.

I had learned that writing poems in praise of women made them not like me.

So I wrote a poem insulted this chick.

I got her attention. But she didn't like me.


I was very drunk during that exchange. Otherwise, I would have been less gay.


The audio recording is what really set people off. I was, as you know, since this is a parody of a John Berryman poem/Hannah liked Berryman/was me reading, drunk, sounding like John Berryman. I got many abusive comments from Hannah Gamble's Twitter account. I don't have a Twitter account. Which means that people took the time and energy to track me down anyway.

Which made my jackoff session that night quite powerful.


And certainly improved my poetry.

---

I'm so proud of this whole incident.

Like the time I dreamed that I was staying at a motel, and Zooey Deschanel left a pair of her underwear in the drier.

And it wasn't dry.

Nor, how can it be, considering this life we live.

[Iska]

All the poetry editors in the room
instantly removed from their pockets,
portable phones,

This line resonated with the irony in me how all of a sudden the distance was almost closed with what I understood to be the editors who usually have their nose in a book or poem now still attached to something else. Love this