This is a Guest Post. Elizabeth Howard writes poetry on demand on a Olivetti Lettera 33, and refuses to believe the internet is a gutter for poorly constructed metaphors and overly-bullet-pointedness. If you agree, read more, comment more at her blog, “Letters from a Small State.”
I tweet. Because if I leave the keyboard, I have to subtract myself from the safety of limitless connection.
Blind, ever-pulsating links between me and a perfect unknown.
You know: what Simonpegg or mommywantsvodka are chattering on about at 9:37 p.m. scratches a certain itch. Ahhhhh.
And it deflects. Very nicely. From the complicated love that burrows down. Love that lingers and love that is canyon-width and acid edges, but isn’t all that interesting. Aged and unattainable. Grizzled and drinking beer with its feet on my coffee table.
So, then it’s Us Weekly tweets to soothe the soul — from the constant berating of Not-Us Daily. Life hiding its regalement in banality. That is to say: rotten-fierce love between two people who are ordinary.
I facebook to imagine myself on the wings of electricity, a fairy of fiberoptics.
I lace my imagined self with curiously tangled and dementedly true details. Meaningless to almost anyone.
To everyone but the most ordinary, steel-toed lover.
