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WordFest Fantasy

March 28, 2013

Over the years, through MySpace & into the world of FaceBook & now into this WordFuck Blogosphere I made friends with/became acquaintances with an East Coast poet whose work I like & who seems to like mine.  He seems to know his way around the Poetry World.

Through his intercession (I’m basically inert about sending poems out) I’ve had a poem published in a journal of narrative poetry, Naugatuck River Review.  Well, I can get stupid about all this so I signed up for an open mic which is part of a week-long poetry festival off in Albany, NY, the Albany WordFest.  I had this fantasy of flying out there, hanging out with the poets, getting laid by some hot number, universal acclaim as the next-best-poet-ever, etc., etc.

Not going to happen.  Work intervenes.  The boss says “No, can’t spare you that week” etc., etc.  Good thing I didn’t book an airline ticket or a hotel room.

It would have been a disaster, I’m sure — my friend would have all the cute pussy, leaving me to hold my dick in the corner, girls laughing at my poems, getting lost in a strange city, ripped off by cab drivers, tired from jet-lag, over-dressed & running out of money.  Maybe some other time.  There is no poetry festival out here to convince my friend to fly this way, but then maybe the girls here are cuter.

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From → Ponderings

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