Staying in is Underrated

It's Friday I'm Drinking

Friday is here and for us that means we’re getting ready to Do Nothing But Read  All Weekend. You may think we do non-literature related things in our spare time but that is untrue. We enjoy a get-smart-quick scheme that involves trying to read as much as humanly possible in under twenty minutes. This is comparable to college binge drinking and is considered illegal in 26 states.

Late Friday evening, check out a few local publishers in your area. We like Future Tense Publishing which hails from Portland, Oregon cuz it’s a small press but a big deal. From there, we suggest catching an imaginary red-eye plane to Scotland to visit  The Scotland Poetry Library. Why? They have one of the best podcasts on poetry and that accent is just so dang charming.

For breakfast, there is nothing more delicious than a poem by Elizabeth Bishop. You agree, no?

A Miracle for Breakfast

ELIZABETH BISHOP

At six o’clock we were waiting for coffee,
waiting for coffee and the charitable crumb
that was going to be served from a certain balcony
–like kings of old, or like a miracle.
It was still dark. One foot of the sun
steadied itself on a long ripple in the river.

Read the full poem

For a mental afternoon stroll, try really hard to understand a contemporary poem by  Rae Armantrout Yes we dare you. To recover from the enormous pressure applied to the brain, see what Paris Hilton is up to. According to our staff intern who knows a publicist in LA who got fired by some guy who dated Paris’ cousin, Paris was partying her ass of on Wednesday night.

Oh Blast! It’s already Saturday afternoon! Time to call up D.A. Powell and arrange a meeting time for a cocktail.  Okay, bar time. Drinks. Will. Be. Had. Show up, sit down, lean in, head back:

[the cocktail hour finally arrives: whether ending a day at the office]
by D.A. Powell

the cocktail hour finally arrives: whether ending a day at the office
or opening the orifice at 6am [legal again to pour in californica]: the time is always right

we need a little glamour and glamour arrives: plenty of chipped ice
a green jurassic palm tree planted. a yellow spastic monkey swinging

a pink classic flamingo impaled upon the exuberant red of cherries
dash of bitters. vermouth sweet. enough rye whiskey to kill

this longing: I take my drinks still and stuffed with plastic. like my lovers
my billfold full of rubbers. OPENs my mouth: its tiny neon lounge

–Lori Huskey