Thursday, July 02, 2009

Loathing leads to suffering. Suffering leads to egg and cheese sandwiches.

I was telling someone today that American poet Henri Cole hates me. Which is true. He does. He's actually hated me since last least I think he hates me. For all I know he has no idea who I am and it's all in my head. But here's the story of his hatred. Henri Cole is a faculty member here at the Summer Writers Institute where I work and he got upset with me last year because I didn't dedicate an entire section of the bookstore to his books. In an attempt to let him know why we couldn't give him an entire section I called him Henry instead of Henri. He quickly stopped me in my tracks and said it's pronounced On-Ree and then gave me a deathly stare. How was I suppose to know that's how you pronounced it? Anyways, I saw him this morning on campus and he gave me that same deathly stare. The kind of stare that said I hate you. Then someone pointed out to me that since he's a poet he probably doesn't hate me. He most likely loathes me.

On a positive note, my co-worker just gave me an egg and cheese sandwich on a hardroll.


Ned Schneebly said...

I enjoyed the dramatic twist at the end of that blog...I think even Henri Cole would appreciate it, if he took some time out from hating you.

ally said...

i don't loathe your hair, i love it!

Anonymous said...

So fantastic, since I have a Henry (Henri) of my own, who sometimes looks at me with loathing....mmmmm. Egg and cheese sandwich. MMMMMMM.