Stop writing for other writers.

If you're anything like me, you just finished watching the season 2 opener of Mad Men. If you're really like me, you paid special attention to that book Don was reading, Meditations in an Emergency. I'm not even gonna stunt like I knew who Frank O'Hara was (I do know John Ashbery though), but suffice it to say, a quick google search revealed an author that reminded me why I majored in English Lit.

The Critic

I cannot possibly think of you
other than you are: the assassin

of my orchards. You lurk there
in the shadows, meting out

conversation like Eve's first
confusion between penises and

snakes. Oh be droll, be jolly
and be temperate! Do not

frighten me more than you
have to! I must live forever.

That's good shit right there. R-E-A-D-A-B-O-O-K!

*sometimes I feel like I'm a artist with this blog ish.