Haiku 5 5.19.2008

The crowd is getting restless.

I’m starting to get kind of smarmy responses.  People are losing trust.  They’re feeling tricked, and vulnerable.  I know because they are sending me haikus about their frustrations.

Our Harper’s stats stand strong:

Number of responses: 29

Number of responses en haiku:  22

Number of people who want to know what the hell I’m up to:  at least 3

Number of new friends I think I’ve made through this project: at least 4

Number of pervy irrelevant responses:  Still just the 1

And, for today’s post:

Mouth’s corners upturned
Sharp elbows, sharp mind, warm soul
I am a giggler

Haiku 4 5.18.2007

Ah, it’s been a busy weekend! I’m glad to see that New Yorkers take some extra time on Friday night and Saturday to really tend to their Craigslist needs.

I have gotten SO MANY responses to my Dating in 17 Syllables Project in the past few days. Most are, excitingly, in haiku format. Some are terribly dirty (in the bad way), and some are terribly flirty (in the good way), and some seem to have nothing to do with me at all, but are simply a poignant and human 17 syllables about a total stranger. Form poetry is some kind of portal, apparently, which allows people to share deeply and genuinely about themselves, about their hopes and dreams, about their fears and secrets, and about their interest in wearing my underpants while being my sub.

Fascinating.

The other thing that’s happened is that someone else started posting haiku in the personals, too. This got a few of you all up in arms, which I appreciate; your fierce loyalty to my brand integrity invests me all the further in this particular exercise in self-indulgence. I prefer to think of myself as a trendsetter than to think of “Haiku 4- 35” as a threat, although I do wish that she had started her own numbering system instead of tagging onto mine.

So, I’ve just posted for today, and here it is:

Haiku 4

Political and
compassionate, I prefer
my bike over all.

I’ve been trying to think of what my big finale is going to be. I mean, I have all these haikus now; it seems like I should do something with them, right? Maybe I should invite everyone who’s responded to all meet at a certain place at a certain time and we can have some kind of big singles haiku party. With booze. Or, maybe I should start sending people’s haikus to each other, and act kind of like the online broker of 17-syllable dating…

Personally, I have zero interest in dating. I also have zero interest in working, cleaning my room, eating, going to the gym, taking a shower, or leaving my apartment, to be honest. I think I am deep in the throes of my post-relationship self-loathing. I am committing as of today, right now, that I will not be re-reading any more old emails. I will delete some, if not many, text messages. And I will stop comparing myself unfavorably to other women, movie stars, college professors, and Rockettes. It’s true, I’m not M’s ex-girlfriend, and i’m not Angelina Jolie, and I haven’t published any books, and I can’t kick that high (though I’m practicing- a lot). But there are other things that I offer the world, and I am going to start making a list of them VERY SOON.

Meanwhile, I did dig out the cocktail napkin listing the “New 7 Stages of Grief” that we crafted at my last caucus of heartbreak, and it looks like I’m right on track. If I’m currently slogging around in self-loathing (and oh, trust me, I am…) then that would mean that I’ve successfully earned my merit badges for step 1 (substance abuse), and step 2 (bitter diatribes). Indeed, I think I could find some substantiative data from the past few weeks to support both of those experiences. I’ll keep you posted on my progress there, too.

Haiku 3 5.17.2008

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.

Haiku 2 5.16.2008

Total responses so far: 7
Total responses crafted as haiku: 4
Total responses using incorrect haiku form: 1
Total replies by me: 0 (should I be doing this?)

And, for today’s Haiku:

Creepy, delightful
A little self indulgent
And reckless; but not.

My Newest Social Experiment- Dating in 17 Syllables 5.15.2008

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 Hope I Here from you Soon 1.06.2007

My newest favorite hobby is perusing the personal ads. I *love* the personals. Although we all know that I have, from time to time, succumbed to the lure of Craigslist and gone on an iffy date or two (although, in my defense, I have also acquired a wonderful house, solid table and chairs, and roommate, all from said site, and all of which turned out to be lovely), I assure you that my interest at this point in purely grammatical.

The typos in personal ads are the most heartwrenching typos of them all. They are more tragic than the typos in resumes, and funnier than the ones in the news. I love the way these personal ad typos float in the longing like flies in lemonade. Sometimes I can’t tell if they are really typos, or if they’re intentional. Profound.

I’m trying to find someone that I can shore my life with.

Sometimes, they offer poignant commentary on the contradiction that is modern life.

I am looking for a lady who can stand on her own two foot.

Sometimes, they really tell it like it is.

I recently got divorced, but I would love to be marred again someday.

Sometimes they just make you wince.

I’m tall (6′1), and other girls have said I’m pretty not.

Those pesky homonyms really trip up a lot of those poor personal-posters. It’s not their (there, they’re) fault. The English language is full of sandtraps.

Wear we meet is up to you.

This is my second post, witch I’m not ashamed to say.

The personal are also filled with creepy ego and surprising candor at times. There’s this one fella on Craigslist who has been offering women $1,000 a month to sleep with him whenever he wants. Like a magazine subscription. He keeps reposting, almost daily. “I will be the beneficiary for a nice young girl” he promised for a few days, until some other Craigslister (because it is, after all, an online community, and people are interested in HELPING one another) pointed out through a not-so-complimentary post that said john had misused the word benificiary, and probably meant to say “benefactor.” The poster also pointedly noted the potential legal and ethical problems of this post. The Craigslister gracefully accepted the edit, and his posts from that point forward correctly identify him as a potential “benefactor for cute girl who maybe has financial troubles.” He didn’t seem swayed on the exploitation of a woman in financial duress issue, though.

sheesh.

So, tell me what else is out there. Let’s talk as an online community about the awful personals all over the internet. Who knows? Maybe I’ll issue a prize for the best awful personal. Maybe we should all post one of our own and then have a party and try to guess which Craiglist post belongs to which myspace friend.

Maybe I should get out a little more.

The important thing to remember, though, of course, is that despite all the crappy personal ads, their’s a sole mate out they’re for all of us. Hang in their.