"I'm Amateur Poet Ross Heffi, and I Love Reading!"

[Note: Due to problems with contracting an actual poet to write this entire post in hexameter, this blog post has been delayed and in development hell for nearly six months. the author presents it as is and refuses to accept any liability whatever for this piece, which is offered on a pro bono basis, or any derivatives thereof. This piece is fictional and is not meant to disparage any lazy and  numbskull idiots (hereafter referred to as 'poets')  living or dead, nor does it purport to represent any veritable person, as a work of fiction is not libelous or slanderous. The poetry and prose herein is the intelluctual property of Ross Heffi, M.F.A. and should not be reproduced in any way.]


Hey everyone, glad you're reading words my fingers put into the computer realm, my name is Ross Heffi, I currently live in Ithaca, New York, and my darkest secret is that if reading as a concept and practice was made corporeal in the form of a human, I would marry it. or, failing that, stalk it relentlessly and passionately. My favorite medium is Poetry, because Poetry allows me to expound in an unusual manner, offering many possibilities that prose doesn't. My favorite poet is Wallace Stevens, for reasons that should be obvious to even neophytes of Art. I don't ape him because I'm not a fool, and know that I could never match him in his element.

Reading is, to me, the highest and most noble pastime. The illiterate and semi-literate confuse and sadden me. I believe I was born in the wrong era, and I must tearfully admit I consider this an age of philistinery. These are lurid times, when the flashy draw hooks many minds and leads them to ruin, to ignorance, and to laziness. Without thoughts, wise men, and the dreams of peaceful minds, the world will be robbed of promise and hatred will continue to spread. Wealth will turn to ash without us, and our voices are still strong, still awaiting the return of the audience.

My favorite poem (of my own making) 'Destiny's Argot'  concerns a man whose fear for the world drives him mad, and into the arms of the muses (as well as other mysterious forces) and nearly eighty high quality lines (probably the best work I ever succeeded in doing) detail his altered state and journey through a supermarket/drug store, and interactions with shoppers. If you, the reader, are interested in Ross Heffi, or simply adore poetic endeavor, I would recommend reading 'Destiny's Argot' which is available on a trial basis from Wattpad, and also on Goodreads, where you can add me as a friend. You may be inspired to make a purchase of my first and only collection Hell is Pieces of my Heart on Hot Asphalt (digital and paper copies available), for which I would be very, but not eternally (I do not believe the immortal soul), grateful.

@HeffiTymes. Ross Heffi is on Tumblr, as well, serving fresh, daily compositions ,and accepting commissions. Yeah that just happened, my dear reader, and many more adventures await and I will give it my all to produce and curate some of the best poetry of this era, comparable perhaps to the masters of old, and the ancient demigods of poetry, the most learned and exquisite and legendary figures. Of Sappho and Homer you have doubtless heard much, but there are others I can name, which you probably could not. In any case, my list of most admired poets is too long and probably too confusing to list here, so I do invoke the ancients and humbly request they invoke the Muses for me. This latest poem is entitled 'Forever is a Distant Laughing Brook' and is dedicated to the unpopular and much disliked blog P u b l i c a t o and was written at the request of Anonynimous Bosch for a reasonable fee, which is charged for most commissions except at the request of true lovers, lost souls, dedicated fans, certain members of the media, and under-14 poetry fanatics.

Publicato: A Review, A Reverie, A Reminiscence, Pt.3

In the last installment of this series, I summarized many of 'the best posts' from the early period of this blog. Many of them are quite noteworthy – some are even almost excellent – but the truth of the matter is the best posts were yet to come. 2012, if my recollection is trusted, was the year of titanic posts in which the blog's appearance ceased to matter, I stopped worrying about everything but the words and content... it might've been the golden era.

Need proof? Early in the year I managed to conjure up a masterpiece that had even me convinced it would be a strong year in which sloppy blogging would be superceded by amazing work that would inspire only greater efforts in the future. It would become the most-viewed post I'd ever written, and has the least typos or fuckups of any article I've ever written. With it behind me, I was at least sure that good things were going to happen as long as I kept the faith.

Then I didn't post anything very noteworthy for months and kept pretty lax hours in addition to that. To be fair, on a personal level I was enjoying life and the crushing tedium of having a bottom-of-the-barrel blog was simply not something I wanted to engage too often. To be honest it was mostly a mess after that. There are probably decent posts but I don't feel like it's worth it. Essentially, that's the guiding principle behind lots of my forgettable posts – probably for the 8-23 people who read them for five minutes and move on – not worth it for me and they don't care. The... wait. List quotes again? Review of Publicato's 2012 most noteworthy posts inbound:

"The world's premiere first world country, hamstrung with voter apathy, political landslides, corruption, fraud, authoritarianism, paternalism, and every kind of stupid fucked up downright dangerous problem"

"This scathing, ignorant, and extremely stupid post basically reflects all the many things that are wrong"

"Pick your side and hold a fractious conflict against your opponents while the world withers."

I think it sounded a lot worse than it was. 2012 had a lot of User Comment Rodeos going on, which is okay with me. I somehow fooled myself into thinking it was the year of excessively good writing but my review didn't really bring up any nuggets of profundity. Seems pretty normal. It was a good year, honestly, and there were some gems, but the really fun or interesting things had gone out of it. My absolute favorite to write were the political junkie/Hunter S. Thompson style posts from 2011, they had a real sense of hustle and narrative to them that was as enjoying to craft as it is to look back on. 2012 did not provide a higher concept type of post and fell into a trend that you might be able to work out if you (and I don't expect anyone to) follow the thread of the posts of that year.

The Postmodern Option

Every day I wake up, do some 'real life' things that I think are important (like texting people to ask them if they want to see me, and texting resumes to potential employers, breakfast related chores) and usually after a few hours I am forced to go to the internet to try and see if there's a soul in the entire world. Most of the time my doubt still exists after I close my browser and hide.

Using the internet to escape life has become a chore, because in a way you have to trade your life for an internet life, even if you only want to escape into the internet. There are people who never signed up for Facebook, and they have healthier social lives than anyone who ever did join that devilish network. The point of YouTube is to 'create, share, etc' or some other thing, but at least 50% of users are passive and only want to find decent videos to while away time. Then there are internet power users who do more than post racist shit in comment sections; these people form communities and post video responses and get sweaty about views per month and always badger everyone to subscribe or rate or leave a racist comment.

So it seems that the internet draws you into the nonsense labyrinth of pointless, infinitely recursive information.

Yes, I am clearly attempting to add to that luminous festering mess of so-called 'information' by blogging. I know that I must be doing something right, because I am not an internet millionaire by my blogging. It's hard for me to know if anyone even reads anything I post here that doesn't directly address them or their concern, so I am always asking myself "is it possible to circumvent public interest and still gain some mediocre type of fame?"

The answer is that, no, it is impossible. I do my best to write clear, amusing, somewhat advanced and mostly pointless blog posts, and I am proud of being a sloppy blogger. Most blogs I visit are quite professionally done. I don't even have gadgets or extra pages to hook people into checking my website regularly.

I am caught in the 21st century catch-22. I want to be anonymous in the era of internet disclosure, and I want to be a respected slacker in the era of the power user, and I want to maybe make a living writing. All of these I'm stupid to hope for, but I chase these dreams and attempt quality – and really, if one person benefits by it or smiles because of it, that is satisfying. Single-digit blog statistics are also depressing, but a satisfying depression is better than just sitting around and trying to create the ultimate manuscript.

Of course it's stupid to criticize the banality of the internet by using the internet, and that's why I don't do that so much. Media criticism is not going to get me anywhere, no matter how sharp an insight I provide on the late-night talk show scene, and there's really not much I can do that hasn't been done, and done better, by someone else. And. And. And. But. However. Furthermore. Good luck.