Attention Whore

You may have asked yourself that seminal question often posed by the habitues of that most characteristic 21st century milieu, the blogosphere.

And that question is,
What is the difference between an attention whore and a talkative human being?"

You may even have asked yourself, "Am I an attention whore?"

This can be a cause of great concern for a sensitive, young (or old) poet!

A subtle tactic of interpersonal control practiced between practiced bloggers is to try to insidiously plant the notion in a fellow blogger's head that he or she is an attention whore.

And I repeat: this subtle aspersion is always made by one blogger upon another.

But it is usually couched as a compliment.

What was that De Quincey quote about whores and poets? So apt.

The other poet is clearly only here to have sublime thoughts in his or her head.

They are like a poetry cloud.

Occasionally, they dazzle us with a display of their thunder and lightning.

The world shakes. It is divine.

They are inhabited. By divinity.

Zeus lives in that cloud. He doesn't even need Biore strips.

His perfect complection is natural. He dazzles us most when he is silent and still.

Upon the Throne of Dignity.

He prefers the Latin. Dignitas.

He has suggested to BMW that they create a new model and name it Dignitas.

He will drive it in the commercial that debuts the Dignitas while a Sting song plays.

It's easy never to embarrass yourself if you never open your mouth.

He didn't hang those neon signs. They were there when he got here.

In fact, he casually lets slip, "I believe they were done by Bruce Nauman. For me. I didn't solicit it. He came to me.

Angels must have placed those neon signs behind her hydra heads that proclaim her name in red light bulbs going off and on like a girly bar.

(The Acceptance speech is carefully secreted in your rectum. We saw you inserting it, Dude.)

When you see these people coming tell them you have to do a rectal search for that secreted Acceptance Speech. You have to check it for smugness.

Many, many poets are deeply dissatisfied beings.

Many poets are idealists who have cherished conceptions of various Absolutes, which have slowly given way to various Absoluts.

Dying is annoying, but dying without an Absolute is doubly annoying.

But the Absolute bus is late.

In fact, I think it's never going to show.

We might as well walk.

And it's raining.

I know, I know.

And some just have fallen arches. Or fallen spouses.

Lots of things can make people ornery (pronunciation: ahn-er-ee) but with poets it is always a double scoop of ornery. Double Stuf Ornery.

Hate is as good a way as any to pass the time I suppose.

Provided you're not actually laying hands on people.

I only hate when I'm drunk. And it's stupid shit. And it passes when I wake up.

Does yours pass?

If a person is a Hate Harbor with hate ships, they are good to film. Because they are so funny. Unintentionally.

But hate is a fully loaded up clothesline, just sagging. And it is raining mightily. What a waste of time.

You took much time with the pins, getting the little fuckers set perfectly.

Now all those clothes are just soppy and sagging like jonesing addicts.

Now all your clothes are all gonna smell like dirty clouds.

Your insult was just right.

People will quote it for days. Decades. Lifetimes. After the Big Contraction and the next Big Bang.

Oh, attention whores.

They don't exist.

You have to physically go to a blog.

You took yourself there.

Do you write letters to television programs too?

There are a lot of attention whores on television. And in the movies. And in the music industry.

Somebody should do something about that.

But poets. Poets are the ones most likely to get accused of being attention whores.

Isn't that funny?

It's not even microfame.

It's a coterie. Like Elizabethan poets eating Pretzel Stix or something.

They could all fit in one big house. Almost. Okay a house and a yard.

But I like them. Attention whore or not.

Because you have to choose who you're going to die alongside.

There are some mighty fine people in the poetry world to die alongside.

Or live. Whatever. Potato potahto.

So let's make up an Attention Whore Manifesto.

I will post it next.

So we can be sure if someone is an attention whore or not.




You hit like a girl.