Apropos my research on the ideal mobile plan for my family, it’s difficult to know what’s less pleasant: the horrifying banality of the task itself, or that it actually manages to please me.
In alphabetical order:
A Sarah Arvio reading represents an opportunity for strangers to gather into an audience for the purpose of being disregarded together.
Sarah Arvio’s poems reveal a mind as dull as Emily Dickinson’s Outlook calendar.
Sarah Arvio’s poems illustrate one possible result of a combination of privilege, ignorance and preening self-regard. Such concatenations are as common in America as folding chairs, fatness and discomfort.
Descriptions of joy are less abundant than those of misery. Because misery itself is more abundant? Perhaps. But more likely: descriptions of joy are received as sources of pain and irritation by the audience, who cannot participate vicariously in the joy described. A sort of opposite process is at work with descriptions of misery — at least among fools.
As a child, I was frequently surprised by the parents with which Circumstance had supplied me. What I was incapable of understanding, however, is that they could feel the same way about their son.
Descriptions of joy are less abundant than those of misery. Because misery itself is more abundant? Perhaps. But more likely: while in the midst of that feeling denoted as joy, the prospect of taking pains to make a record of the experience is a dismal and tedious one.
My inability to conceive of the best-case scenario is a product of limited reason; the worst-case scenario, of limited imagination.