Read it in your head to the tune of the Friends theme song. And then add the *CLAP* CLAP* CLAP*.
I mean, how clever is that?
Creative artsy-fartsy dudes are consistently the most reliable for some decent prose. I can typically spot them based on their profile right away. Intentionally lopsided haircuts, record collection on display, ironically nerdy glasses, probably has a linked Instagram account full of his artwork. Or his band. Or his tattoos.
Well this particular author had all of the above, and upon asking (just to confirm my instincts) I learned this guy does indeed have a “creative” job. And, he says, he teaches digital art, videography and writes music on the side.
Of course you do.
But every once in a while, I’ll get a submission that reminds me to never judge a book by the cover. The below poem came from someone I initially put in the “sup” category. “Sup” guys are those too lacking in creativity or wit to start a conversation with anything more complex than an open-ended one-syllable question. Perhaps they rely on their looks and hope that women will overlook their apathy. That we will be so damn motivated to connect that we’ll do all the conversational heavy lifting. OR perhaps they think that their personal brand of swagger prevents them from emoting too much, or seeming like they care.
This particular author I had pegged for a “sup”. But then I got this:
I mean COME ON. Emotionally vulnerable, astute, clever, ingratiating. AND THEN HE THANKED ME.
This is precisely why this weird little experiment will never stop being fascinating to me.
Love in the Time of COVID 