Random blog-like rambling from Rachel's brain. A mixed up mess of usability posts, fiction, and travel.


poetaster - \POH-uh-tass-ter\


An inferior poet

The Student

He fancies himself a poet and dresses accordingly. His slacks are vintage and his blazer has patches on the elbows. He carries a pipe in one pocket and a half hazardly organized stack of notecards in another. The pipe is for show. The notecards were an idea he took from Nabakov, who he hasn't read, but someone once told him was the greatest novelist of the twentieth century. He figures perhaps the notecards were critical to gaining the master this title. 

His class schedule is a mix of literature and writing theory. He does not care to actually attend, preferring instead to haunt the campus coffee shop, drinking espressos and writing on his notecards in an illegible scrawl.

He never capitalizes his letters, a trick learned from e.e. cummings. 

He and his friends discuss the merits of free verse and disparage the use of rhyme and meter in any fashion. He carries a copy of "Howl" with him everywhere he goes and owns a vintage typewriter he found at an estate sale. 

He once heard that Tolstoy's wife transcribed his work for him. He decides that this would be ideal, but his relationships tend to be over too quickly for him to introduce this idea. He types up his poems himself bemoaning his misfortune. After receiving rejection letters he sulks at the nearest bar. Someone told him that Bukowski favored Reisling and he follows along, getting drunk on sweet German wine.

His GPA drops steadily. He burns rejection letters in his trash can. He learns to smoke the pipe and tries hash. He writes all night, but cannot read the writing the next day. 

Sometimes, after three espressos and ten notecards, he wonders about switching majors. Being a writer, he is finding, is more work than he had anticipated.

Theology, surely, would require less dedication.