Okay, this is for all you lonely people out there, who are pleasantly insane, and commonly misunderstood.
There are others such as yourself in the world, and you will usually find them in unlikely and unexpected places, probably doing something obscene-Or at the very least- strange.
They are commonly refered to as “poets”. They are a rare and elusive species, who prefer to nest in quiet, undisturbed environments, removed from the bustle of other life forms. They can most easily be found lurking around the fringes of society with a thoughtful little frown, or inside shadowy coffee shops, fiercely sending the ‘antisocial’ vibe at anyone who gets too close to their notebook.
The poet can easily be distinguished from your more common species of “weirdo” by their vocabulary, and all of their incomprehensible rambling will probably rhyme.
They are rarely seen running in packs, because they require the company of those who see reality as optional and relative ( we all know it’s not the 70’s anymore), and will likely say something poetic to a “normal” person, just to scare them a bit.
Yes, the true poet is a dying breed, despite what you may have heard. However, there is still hope, there is a cure, and it requires only one small contribution from you.
Yes, YOU can save the planet from cookie-cutter normality and a nauseous excess of pink cell phones, SUV’s, shitty infomercials, and TV programs that lure you into watching until you realize they have less content then the government’s bank accounts.
All you have to do is confuse one person each day. Make one person, a little more open, a little more crazy, and a little more mentally flexible then when you met them. Say something extremely wild, unconventional, inappropriate, and completely unexpected. Ask them a question you know they will have no answer for. Tell them to count the freckles of God. Ask them if the world is really upside-down when you stand on your head. Tell them the under-pass is closed because road-runner had to re-paint it.
That is the answer, the solution. Simple confusion is a rarely used, but extremely powerful tool. If you don’t believe me, just watch the evening news. If you indulged in this little fantasy of mine, you would suddenly notice a profusion of star gazing, moon-struck free thinkers, with their heads in the clouds, and ink stains on their fingers.
It wouldn’t be such a bad thing, really, there would be more trees with footprints in them, the smoke shops would be a lot more interesting, and they wouldn’t mind when you stole the pens at the bank.
So please, don’t let the prose-ridden pen junkies of the world pass into oblivion, Ani Defranco can’t do it all by herself. Just drive the world crazy, that’s all I ask.