Sometimes You Wanna Go Where Absolutely No one Knows Your Name
Published July 29th, 2008 | 
It’s midnight and I’m offering up a few thoughts before retiring for the night.
Thought #1: Bad poetry doesn’t get any better when you are sleep-deprived. Like this one guy who sent me a submission of ten short poems typed in mouse print on two sheets of paper. Just thinking about his cringe-worthy micro-poetry makes my eyes bleed.
Thought #2: I hate being broke.
Thought #3: And if I weren’t broke, I’d be somewhere else right now. Probably somewhere far away from here. Perhaps someplace exotic like Puerto Vallarta or maybe somewhere a little closer to home like a Kissimmee vacation villa. Fiji sounds even better.
Yeah, if I had the bank, I’d go to one of those travel sites like Rentalo.com and rent one of those Destin condos. Just pick a destination and get multiple offers directly from the property owners. Then all I’d have to do is get a passport and some travel medical insurance, then I’d be on my way.
I can almost smell the fresh, salty air! I’d be on a beach somewhere — hopefully with a cold beverage in one hand and a nice young hottie occupying the other.
Ah, but alas . . . that’s just a dream.
We curmudgeonly editors don’t get to take vacations to exotic locales. We just get to read more bad poetry written by bad poets who, likewise, are too poor for any activity save for writing more bad poetry.
