"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.

Danielle Steel's Poetry, via Tina Fey

For today I thought I'd keep it simple and uncontroversial, but above all entertaining. I also wanted it tinged with nostalgia and ridiculousness. The research did not take long, but it was conclusive and the results are high-quality and thorough. Let's take a trip to the unrecoverable past, and weep.

This is what happened before Twitter. Now this kind of awesome transmission of hilarity is less constrained but even more inaccessible. It has grown from the constrained television/early-internet arena into a lawless continent. You might term it the twitterverse, or twitter galaxy. Late night TV isn't the most accessible thing, but goddamn if it didn't serve up some great times.

I remember the happy times on this very blog, when it seemed all I could do was watch late night TV and then post on this blog about it. I should've kept on with that business. I could've had an audience, but I choked. There aren't enough commentators and content-generators on the internet already, right? Any smart person could see how late-night TV commentary is an untapped market and how I could –

But I wasn't that smart person. The Jesse Navarro episode was a sign that Conan's show has the same kind of potential to be awesome. There is interest and potential discussion, refreshed each night, totally different each week, yet comfortingly similar and routine. There was so much to write about: Jimmy Fallon's meteoric but dubious rise (and amazing musical guests and the Roots!!!), Craig Ferguson's amazing cold opens, Conan's uninhibited but too-clever hilarity, and of course the underrated genius of Jimmy Kimmel.

If I could go back, this would've been a niche blog with a design document. Look around at the lack of progress, at the wreck of a blog.

(The book in question)