This photo and caption were inside the elevator of my hotel. Affixed to the actual door. This was Dry Ridge, Kentucky. Dry Ridge sucks. Why? Because it’s dry. Why would a state officially blooomed for bourbon want to populate itself with dry counties? It’s like entering a college coffee shop without hearing some kid discussing free speech or Eric B and Rakim. Like logging onto HTML and not finding flames, hijacked theory, gelatinous shreds of Tao Lin…but I do digress.
I’m all for inscrutability but WTF on this ad? “the path less traveled” (no caps–very hip) is two girls in fake wings walking?
The real concern isn’t the advert. (Is it even? What exactly is it selling? Why is it on the elevator door?) The real botheration is the source material. That fucking poem.
Let’s trod on:
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Author Spotlight & Random / 8 Comments
May 17th, 2010 / 11:57 am
This man does not write poetry, but he does play tennis. I think about him a great deal, usually when I am naked.
It’s warm and sunny here in New York and the days are getting longer. I know, it’s only February. I know that the wind is causing all sorts of tragedy. But it IS boobs/chesticles friday. (I think I am the only one not ready to give up boobs/chesticles friday.) And it has been positively Spring-like here. Time to make babies! I want to make babies with this man to our left. And speaking of baby making, Robert Frost wrote this wonderfully raw poem about Spring-time lust and fecundity:
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Excerpts / 11 Comments
February 13th, 2009 / 1:48 pm