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I am not a diplomatic person. I think that's probably why I've never taken a lot of creative writing classes, before. I just finished with what we're calling "selective discussion." Wouldn't you know, the poems that we were "selectively discussing" were absolutely the best and the worst in the class. Yes, I know that the prof on this particular class says that there's no judgement involved in his choosing these poems... I'm not sure I believe him.
What the poem most reminded me of, when all's said and done... well, it reminded me of a phonecall from my boss's schizophrenic neighbor. There was no real core to it, nothing to hang onto, and if I were reading it in a bookstore, not only would I not have finished reading the poem, I'd have put the whole anthology down then and there.
And then, the prof added, (no doubt because he couldn't think of any, himself. Heck, I'm posting this stuff on the internet from a really long ways away, and I'm still having trouble complimenting the damned thing with a straigth face.) He asked what things we admire about this poem. What do we admire?
The fact that it finally ended?
The fact that it's flamable? Actually, I find the flamability of this particular peice of shit to be incredibly reassuring.
The fact that once the writer finally marries **the boyfriend** (i.e. the cause of all suffering on the face of the Earth, and probably Mars) she will get pregnant, have kids, and quit having time to write? Also reassuring.
I spent fifteen minutes staring at a blank computer screen, and then finally wound up complimenting her on the bravery required to talk about something that was so important to her with strangers. The bravery required to let something like this see the light of day is, of course, somewhat more awe inspiring, as is the bravery to try to write poetry without first checking one's supply of lithium (not nearly enough.)
I'm going to consider it a good year, if none of my classmates wind up hanging themselves in the gymnasium after reading my "selective" opinion.
An excellent year, if none of them wind up involuntarily committed.

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