[Via Craigslist]
A Missed Connection posted yesterday on Craigslist:
Veselka Romance - w4m - 23 (East Village)
One week ago I was sitting outside of Veselka, reading "The Bell Jar" by Sylvia Plath.
(My favorite book)
I saw you from the table nearest to 2nd ave, on the side of the restaurant.
You had the most beautiful brown eyes I have ever seen.
Tall, thin, with a beard. We made eye contact for about fifteen seconds, and then you walked away, down 9th street.
I would love to meet you.
You are exactly my type.
You probably live in Williamsburg, and shop at local farmer's markets.
I would love to buy some vegetables with you.
I like to make omelettes with fresh asparagus and swiss cheese,
I could make you one.
I hope you don't have a girlfriend.
This girl sounds like she's 14.
ReplyDeleteShe's basically describing every hipster. Hop the L Train to the land of plenty.
ReplyDeleteNot sure if this ad is legit. Some readers of DieHipster blog used to post fake ads trying to lure pathetic hipster dudes into responding (using all the requisite hipster trappings in their post). And then they would post the sad replies to the ads.
ReplyDeleteAlthough this ad doesn't exactly follow their ads' pattern, it could be a fake.
I mean, come on! The Bell Jar? Williamsburg? Beard? Farmer's markets? Oy.
If it is real I feel sorry for that immature young lady.
Daddy
ReplyDeleteby Sylvia Plath
You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.
Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time--
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal
And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.
In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend
Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.
It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene
An engine, an engine
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.
The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.
I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You--
Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.
You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who
Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.
But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look
And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.
If I've killed one man, I've killed two--
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.
There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.
Big Brother, that's one of her poems from Ariel. The Bell Jar was a novel. It's actually very good and speaks to a young girl's angst but to read it at 23 and still claim that it's your favorite book really is sad.
ReplyDeleteI was really into her until she said that she puts Swiss cheese in the omelette. Who does that? This calls for goat cheese.
ReplyDeleteDeal breaker!
lena dunham's writing is really on the decline.
ReplyDeleteI think it's real! Cut this gal a break you guys, at least she isn't reading Eat Pray Love or anything by Thomas Friedman.
ReplyDeleteSo long as she's prepared to deal with his aspara-pee post omelette, I'm all for it. I do however recommend Gruyere cheese just to class it up a bit.
ReplyDelete"...with a beard." That's what the EV has turned to. Sign of the apocalypse.
ReplyDeleteDidn't SPlath off herself.
At least this didn't happen at Empire Beardcuits and wasn't another media fauxpublicity by the grinning bearded boys. Do people really hook-up via CL or did they ever? Since you're into hipsters, use Tinder, girlfriend.
How do ya'll know it was a girl? Maybe a 55-yr old gay guy wrote this. He could be a professor preparing a literature class.
ReplyDeleteIt's self-confessional pseudo-therapy like that which gives poetry a bad name.
ReplyDelete- East Villager
prob/ a dude. bald 61, overweight,
ReplyDeleteYo, eye contact for 15 seconds without speaking is fucking creepy.
ReplyDelete(1 - miss-iss-ippi, 2 - miss-iss-ippi, etc.)
@ anon 3:27 PM
ReplyDeleteNo! It was not me!
THIS WOULD NEVER HAPPEN AT PUDDIN'!
ReplyDeleteI have no idea why i am obsessed with that pudding place but I am. Also that macaroon place that is always empty. And the water store too.
I used to go to Veselka, when they had that little room in the back with tables. But that was a long time ago...nowadays, everything was a long time ago. Even I'm a long time ago.
ReplyDeleteGlenn, you wrote: "How do ya'll know it was a girl?"
ReplyDeleteWell, because the ad said she was a W4M which means 'woman seeking man'.
Yes, Glenn, Anonymous is correct.
ReplyDeleteHere, you and Anonymous may want to check out this tutorial also to help you when you look at other Craigslist / Internet personal ads like that one:
http://mirror.lcs.mit.edu/td-extra/honesty.html