Found erasure, Chinese restaurant, Minneapolis, April 2015
As you may have gathered from Russell Bennetts’ massive tome of an AWP DIARY, I, an errant 14-year old, also attended AWP, the homebound laptop frottager’s excuse to drool in each other’s directions IRL. I offer this description with little to no malice; rather, I was alternately delighted and driven to pleasant exhaustion by the various forms of thirst I encountered at AWP: “Networking” at the bookfair, aka continuously chugging coffee to ward off the silences in conversation that attune you to the ominous dull roar of the biodome. Spotting a horde of wandering bearded, flannelled men with lizard eyes darting in every direction. Partaking in the Queen Mob’s Tea Party special (2 for 1 beers). Considering tweeting your own phone number.
I’ve been pretty removed from “dating” for a long time, so somebody else will have to comment on the actual ways modern people internet each other in order to “have relations.” (Tinder? Grindr? Whatever you get when you pay for an AWP membership?) In order to further my research into AWP thirst but avoid creating “accounts” or downloading “apps,” I turned to the only source I know: Craiglist missed connections. Enclosed, please find my thoughts on four weird messages in weird bottles.
The first ad I found isn’t actually a missed connection, but it gets right to the point.
Yes, this title does say it all: our subject here wants to get down almost as much as he wants to use his sexquest to construct terrible puns. If only Mr. Little Fantasy had offered us more details of what he’s “worked up in [his] head.” Grade: B+ for directness, clarity, and terrible humor.
While this missed connection at first betrays no outright connection to AWP, I don’t think it’s entirely out of the question to suggest some wild AWP’r might have wandered away to wherever the heck this suburb is and abandoned his/her “panty.”
I mean, this author’s not wrong.
Those writers and their obsessions with STORIES, always seeking those MOTIVATIONS and focusing on little DETAILS like the color of a “panty.” You can’t fool me, fiction writers! I know you’re just going to use the idiosyncrasies of my life in your precious NOVELS. Grade: B- for subtlety, use of imagery/data, and creative spelling.
While definitely TL;DR, I am reluctant to grade this one, because it appears to be a genuine search for LOVE, and I can’t say I feel terribly qualified to judge. I kind of just want to give it a signal boost.
I reiterate that AWP is mostly talking, and add, semi-relatedly, that all that talking and drinking really messes up your lipstick. I’m definitely not derailing my own discussion of this missed connection because it’s sincere and sincerity makes me uncomfortable.
There is a lot more that I decided not to screencap. It may or may not hit the word count of the post you’re reading right now. You can google the ad if you’re interested, or if your name is David and I just changed your life. While I’m definitely not the intended audience, I respect what our author is doing here. Dear David the Poet: this lady’s thirsty for LOVE, don’t miss out! And I, too, hope you continue writing poetry, all of you, but would we recognize one another, indeed? Grade: N/A for emotional problems.
Oh dear. What paradise? Why taken for granted? Is she in a bell jar? I’m circling all of these words and writing “SPECIFICITY???” in the margin. Some definite effort here, but as I learned yesterday, nobody looks good getting on the plane that takes you away from AWP. Ew. Grade: F for lies, and because it’s not a desktop background that counts, it’s the motion of the ocean.