A Haunted House

Someone asked me how I'd describe my voice as a writer

I was having dinner with my friend Matt Starr the other night at a French Vegan restaurant in the West Village which was quite good. About half way through dinner he showed me a poem he wrote that was quite good. More quite good than the food I’d say.

In so many words it was about breaking up and how you can distract yourself post-break up with simple joys like new socks, new shirts, whatever makes you happy and takes your mind off things, but that as soon as you encounter intimacy, it’s a wrap.

You remember and now you feel terrible.

I would describe Matt’s voice as horny with a hint of danger that is then quickly grounded and as soon as it’s grounded, he pulls the chair out from under you with a punchline and its over.

I’d say that the trademark of his voice is that it’s elusive, but he leaves an Andes mint on the pillow for you. He’s emotionally avoidant, but kind. You can’t be that upset if you got a mint.

In this era, people would probably be very upset if you left without saying goodbye leaving a mint behind, but I’ve never expected anyone to do anything for me and I’m a fat fuck so waking up to a mint seems cool to me.

After laughing about these observations for a few moments, he asked me.

“So how would you describe your voice?”

“My voice?” I avoided.

“Yeah. You’re voice.” he insisted.

“I would say that I draw people in with humor, I’m a bit of a host. It’s like I own a bed and breakfast. Would you like something to drink? How about something to eat? Stay a while. I’ll get the bed made upstairs. Then you stay and you’re in hell.”

“You lure them in.”

“Yeah, I’d say I’m a haunted house.”