When you become the center of the universe

Something strange happened on the way to anonymity. As I walked up to the podium tonight to unleash the pair of poems I had chosen for our group’s final reading, I started getting a bizarre amount of cheers, so much so that I actually looked behind me to make sure I wasn’t being followed by someone more important. But no, somehow I’ve turned into a minor poetry celebrity. I couldn’t explain it. I just said, “Wow, this really won’t be that good.” I read my two pieces, elicited some laughs and sat back down with a mental shrug. Afterwards, Ian came right up and said, “Man, you had the shit hyped out of you! You could have said anything and they would have eaten it up.” I guess my publicists have been hard at work creating a buzz. Also, Vincent from downstairs closed out our group’s reading by expressing his love for everyone in our apartment but finishing up by focusing on me and giving me a sort of “I love you, man.” Vincent has a way of saying things that there’s really just no response to. Even more curiously, a few people have said my poems are among their favorites and I had to write out a copy of one of them for this girl Jamie tonight and sign and date it. The only thing I can think is that maybe I don’t try to wrap the world up in a poem. Listening to some others tonight I pulled out my journal and wrote, “With your last line, say something like ‘her breasts held time’ or ‘its eyes were God’ or something equally asinine, and you will be met with oohs and ahs.” I’ve said that I can’t take myself seriously writing poetry, but maybe it’s just that universal truth poetry, and maybe people appreciate something different.

Later at dinner, Micha, one of the grad students, cryptically asked me if I held all the wisdom. When I told him he needed to lead me a little farther down that road he theorized that I am the cold center of the universe that all the warmth gravitates towards. Apparently these poets need a little cynicism in their lives. Many people here love to speak in absolutes, which I hate absolutely. They want to beat their ideas into your head, or at least feel that this is their one chance to be heard so they pounce at every opportunity like, “What?? Did someone say they liked Keats?” Then they pull the cord on their back and start shouting “KEATS IS FILTH, YOU DON’T SEE THAT????” I’m generalizing too much though. The “they” I keep referring to is probably less than five people here but I have had plenty of dinners where I end up sitting back and playing with my silverware as others shout their mighty thoughts across the table. Cool center of the universe perhaps, or I just don’t feel like being an ass.