My darling internet,

I’ve considered the matter and come to the conclusion that my greatest desire is for you to have me in a chokehold. As Pavlovian as all this click-click-clicking feels, as reflexy and involuntary, make no mistake: I have absolutely chosen to give you all my power.

Why do I give you all my power? Well, if I didn’t, I might be forced to admit that there is really no one in control. Or, perhaps, there is one and that one is the great unknown, the universe, the what what as it were.

In the chasm of the what what I am unrecognizable to myself. I do not know me. O but I know you sweet internet; and when I am with you I know exactly who I am. With you I am Captain Shame.

I fear I can never be without you, my beloved. I twitch in your absence.  Without you, I am half a woman. Then again, with you I am half a woman too.

My darling internet, I will see you when the cock crows. No, I will see you way before the cock crows–probably in about a minute. Then I will see you for the rest of the afternoon, then all evening, late into the night and then when I get up to pee at 4 am. I cannot bear to be away for long.

Yours,

Melissa

No Comments. Filed under Information Age of Hysteria

Me: Let’s start the conversation by telling people where we are. That’s how they do it in Vanity Fair.

Twitter Persona: Tell them we’re at The Mandarin Oriental. No wait. Tell them we’re at The Breslin at The Ace Hotel. I’m wearing a heather grey Alexander Wang tank dress, no makeup and my décolletage is showing. I’m picking at a scone. And I’m luminous.

Me: Ok. My first question is: Why do you rarely converse with other Twitterers? Isn’t Twitter supposed to be a conversation.

TP: I like to keep my home unfettered by @’s. Aesthetically it’s more fetching. I have mild OCD and when I’m surrounded by @’s I get uncomfortable.

Me: You do come across as very angsty and self-deprecating. Much more angsty than I am. Why?

TP: I think that’s a question you need to ask yourself.

(more…)

No Comments. Filed under Information Age of Hysteria, Neuroses

What up yo?

Oh, me. Not much. Just blogging when I’m supposed to be writing poetry. Like, all the feckin’ time. When I die, my literary estate is going to consist of blog posts.

Here’s are some recent greatest hits from the succubus:

Letters To a Young Poet. From a publicist.  new!

Open letter to the significant other of an author with a first book coming out from an indie press.

The groupie’s guide to the galaxy.

Dear HTMLGiant.

How (not) to run a reading series. *poached from this blog…now with more content!

We who are about to diet.

Vice DOs and DON’Ts: dead poets edition.

What not to include in your lit mag submission letter.

Big Titular.

No Comments. Filed under California Fetish, Information Age of Hysteria

What up yo?

Oh me? Not much. Fresh off the boat from AWP, alone in an LA hotel room (Cali freaks–come to these readings) making sweet love to a box of Vitamuffins at midnight. You know.

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New poems up at Miracle Monacle, Five Dials and poems from the book at Swink.

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I’m being a joiner and blogging for a blog. Another blog. A group blog called We Who Are About To Die.

These are my posts thus far:

What not to include in your literary submissions letter.

Vice DOs and DON’Ts: dead poets edition.

Big titular.

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Talked about a few of my favorite things: poetry, Belle and Sebastian and Gossip Girl on TV.

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And Tao Lin turned me and my pet guinea pigs into a hamster.

No Comments. Filed under California Fetish, Information Age of Hysteria

The riveting conclusion to our 2.5-part series.

In our first installment twittering poets wrote about the impact of social networking on their craft. One commenter wrote of the post: “It makes me feel like throwing up…I don’t even know what Twitter is, and I don’t want to know. Sounds like stupid shit. I came here to read about Richard Hugo.”

Self-loathing was imminent. And yet we soldiered on…

In installment 1.5 Brandon ‘Scott’ Gorrell expounded on the techniques of various twittering writers he admires and read the tea leaves of my Twitter style as well (‘confused,’ ‘tired’). He also addressed the proliferation of  ‘scare quotes’ and took what may be his first public step in becoming a more streamlined  ‘Brandon [no Scott] Gorrell.’

Now, for the eye-popping finale, we go the way of so many poets and move on to prose. Below, some of the liveliest twittering prose writers of our generation send this baby home!

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4 Comments. Filed under Information Age of Hysteria, O.P.P.