I’ve decided to change forms tonight. I grew bored, I suppose, of those drowsy 17s. Perhaps you did as well. Regardless, here’s some sardonic William Carlos Williams-style craigslisting:
This is Just to Say
I have posted
the verses
that I thought
would draw you
and which
you were probably
hoping
would coalesce
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
I got the following email today from the most recent breaker of my heart (there was more to it than this, but this is the main thing):
“I talked to J from 9 to 4am this morning. The gist of what came out of our conversation is, I’m going to be in this relationship with her, fully. I’m going to work. We are going to therapy. She asked me to not talk to you until July. I agreed.”
Really? REALLY?
Because the thing is, that email sucks. The whole experience has sucked. And I don’t know that it makes sense for me to hang around and submit an application for friendship in July. It may be that I have other things to do with my time.
Like, for example MY HAIKU PROJECT.
So, this Craigslist thing is really taking off. I’m delighted. The only downside is that i don’t want to date my respond-ees anymore; I want to start a writing collective with them.
Over the course of the past 2 days, I’ve gotten over a dozen haikus in the mail. They’re amazing. Yesterday’s rainy poeticism seemed to really inspire people.
I’m posting some gems I’ve received below; and then, of course, my haiku for today:
“flirty, curious
quirky, shy, interested
cure rainy day blues”
“Things that amuse me
Board games, theatre, the beach, naps
It seems you do, too.”
“Aspiring chef
Astoria is my home
Eating alone sucks”
“Hands folded, waiting
What will you post tomorrow?
Haikus make me smile.”
and there are many, many more…
Meanwhile, here’s my post for today:
Haiku 3
More than half smart, my
sunglasses are enormous.
Less than half crazy.
If you haven’t caught the news yet, I’ve recently had yet another relationship spiral out of the sky in a screaming streak of smoke and flames and crashland into the drought-addled brush field of my heart, which then burned sadly for days and days and days. Awesome. Clearly, the next reasonable course of action in this metaphor is that I should lose, or at least have suspended, my pilot’s license. I should stay out of the skies for a while. I should slow down.
I understand that slowing down, or “not dating,” might seem like a good idea. I can see why, after being in a nonstop serial of relationships for the last decade, it might seem reasonable- or even recommended- that I spend some time unattached and solitary. That I “get to know myself.” That I become comfortable with developing my own routine, unfettered by the needs of another, uncluttered by the dreams of someone else. That I recommit to all of you, loyal readers, and post “Top 10 reasons why I’m sexier than her exgirlfriend” blogs, and write, and think and take up yoga again.
And I promise you all that if this next series of craigslist postings doesn’t work out, that I am going to do just that. No joke. Scout’s honor.
But for right now, I’m going to take all of you, loyal readers, on a joyride of a social experiment. Here’s the plan: I’m building a miniseries of personal ads, each written as a haiku that reveals something of myself, and posted daily to craigslist. The goal is that I’ll get someone who follows along and reads them all; I’m really looking to build a fanbase for my bad poetry as much (more than?) I’m looking for a date.
I’ll copy and paste each day’s haiku here, so that you can follow along. And, if I get any responses, I’ll update you on those as well. I think that this is going to be a lot of fun for all of us. And, it merges craigslist and myspace, which makes me feel like I’ve hit a venn diagram of self-promotion.
The joy of this project has completely supplanted the sadness of my failed love life. I’m ebullient (again).
Here’s today’s Haiku:
Haiku 1:
Freckled, postmodern
My brain is like a racecar
And so is my heart.
Stay tuned for daily updates! We’re about to have some FUN.
xo.
I’m cross and contrary and was supposed to leave this all break-up business behind in 2006, but the truth of the matter is, it’s still here. It’s here like a stinging scrape on my ankle that rubs raw again every time I put on my shoes. It’s here like the drunk guy in the bar who’s too sloshed for any conversation save a lumbering slur, but is surprisingly nimble when it comes to appearing in my face every time I turn around. It’s here like salt and seaweed and tires and cheeto bags when the tides pull back and I think the beach will be perfect for a walk.
I’m angry at the break-up. I want to run to where the break-up slinks around the front porch, throw the door open and yell. I want to tear into the break-up with rage and lightening. I want the break-up to look at me, with those strange, strong winds whipping my hair high around my face, and my fists shaking in the air, and my eyes turning tears into fire and launching it forward…I want the break-up to take one look and say,
“Shit, that girl is CRAZY. I better leave her alone.”
I want the break-up to stop pressing that stone against my chest in the night. I need those lungs to BREATHE with, and I am going to start doing just that tomorrow if the break-up would just lay off. I want the break-up to give me some space; I’ve got a wide turning radius right now and that break-up is IN. MY. WAY. I need that break-up to stop sneaking up on me when I’m at work and poking at my sides. It doesn’t tickle and it isn’t funny and I’ve never once laughed at that kind of joke before, so why does the break-up keep doing it?
I need the break-up to stop following me around like a small skittish shadow that lifts up at the back of my skirt and flicks my ankles. I need the break-up to not hang out in my car all day and get warm and smelly. I need that break-up to stop stealing my laugh and dropping it in places where it didn’t mean to be.
I HATE THE BREAK-UP AND IT JUST WON’T LET ME BE!
On another note, here are 10 reasons why I am sexier than Jesus:
1. I have long, lovely, well-conditioned hair. Jesus had a rat’s nest. With thorns in it.
2. In moments of stress, I have a quick, sharp, wit. Jesus had “why have you forsaken me.”
3. I’m a woman. Women are sexier. That’s an objective fact.
4. I ride a bicycle. Bicycles are sexy. Jesus walked.
5. I enjoy the water. I splash and play and do suntan-lotion-commercial-looking things. Jesus walked on water. Bo-ring.
6. I wear Chanel No. 5. Jesus wore B.O. and camel dung.
7. I am alive. Jesus is dead. Twice dead, even. That should really count as two reasons.
8. I have freckles. Jesus had stress acne. (I know you can’t see it in the Rennaissance paintings, but it was totally there.)
9. I can pull off 3-inch heels or hipster sneakers or knee-high boots and look good no matter what. Jesus wore sandals and probably had totally gnarly toenails.
10. I know how to be pinned up against something and have a really remarkable and sexy time of it. Jesus, clearly, did not.
The end.
