Tipplers, beware! Drunk Poets’ Society is when Lauren Paredes goes to bars, magnetic poetry in hand, looking for poets who don’t know it … yet.
Why should poetry be limited to the halls of academia or the aisles of your favorite obscure bookstore when the next manic-depressive Robert Lowell incarnate could be sitting next to you at the bar? Maybe he just needs magnetic poetry, some Jack, and a doting editorial intern to get his creative ambitions going.
Lucky for me, this guy is a writing and communications double major who already fancies himself a poet. With the promise of a free drink of his choice, he accepts my challenge of creating art atop a corner table at Lord Hobo using a magnetic poetry set.
As fate would have it (if fate was a cynical dude at the bar) the first two words out of the box are “repulsive” and “love.”
They are stuck together. Andrew nods at the appropriateness of this and gets to work. “I’m trying to tap into my inner person who has feelings,” he says as he begins sifting through the words.
I assist Andrew in the process by finding him the ever-important definite article, while doing my best not to suggest he incorporate “lather” into his piece. “Where are all the swear words?” he asks.
He decides on the opening line, “Let frantic love in.”
“Oh God, this is so overdramatic. I swear this is not my usual aesthetic,” he says immediately. With each new line, the idea of love grows bleaker. Andrew pauses to order another drink. I respond to his angst: “But you seem so likeable.” He replies, “No, stop it. I’m really a monster.”
When the poem is complete I feel as despondent as he does. The young bar poet seems content, but only for a moment.
“Love is loaded. I have way better ideas than this.”
DRUNK POETS’ SOCIETY WILL HENCEFORTH BE AN ONGOING COLUMN HERE ON DIGBOSTON.COM. SO IF YOU SEE LAUREN PAREDES AROUND TOWN, ASK TO SEE HER MAGNETS. SHE’LL KNOW.