I was a bit bemused by this story in the NYT this morning. An exclusive poetry salon to which literary erudition and shagability are both required in order to snag an invitation.

How viable is it really, to limit your intellectual clique to people with whom you want to have sex? I tried to imagine applying it for a minute to anything I do. Well, just not numerically possible in a small town in the first place. Beyond that, the whole thing seems doomed to eventual melt-down.

And one of them even stole one of my lines icon_mad.gif


"A FEW weeks ago, a gaggle of young men gathered at a large, art-filled apartment on lower Fifth Avenue to discuss poetry. Stylishly disheveled and slimly tailored, they took stock of one another at the bar before settling into the parlor, which was tastefully furnished with books, Midcentury Modern chairs and a large painting by Jay Davis.
Every seat was filled — a common sight at this makeshift Greenwich Village salon. No fewer than six men crammed onto a beige fainting couch, cocktails in hand. Handsome waiters could no longer squeeze through, so guests passed platters of steak on toast, shrimp on skewers and salmon in cucumber cups.

Surveying the scene was Alex Dimitrov, a 26-year-old rising poet, who wore a black leather jacket with matching black boots and jeans for the occasion. Sly and delicate, he is the founder and gatekeeper of Wilde Boys, a roving salon for self-described queer poets at which attendees lounge fetchingly and flirtation comes in the guise of academic one-upmanship."

WTF is a "fainting couch?"

"THE WILDE BOYS first met in May 2009, called together by Mr. Dimitrov, who had just graduated from Sarah Lawrence’s master’s program in poetry. He had been reading David Lehman’s “Last Avant-Garde,” about the New York School poets of the 1950s and ’60s, and wondered why there wasn’t a contemporary school. “Not like a movement,” he said, “but why don’t we have cliques and groups?”

He was also new to New York City, living on the Lower East Side with a college friend. He longed for a community of writers, and sought to create his own by e-mailing a half-dozen aspiring poets his age — some he knew, some he didn’t — and suggesting they discuss their work at a cafe.

“I invited the cute gay poets right away,” Mr. Dimitrov said. “I sort of had a list of gays that I wanted to come, and some of them that I wanted to sleep with.”"

"“This is actually my first salon that I’m attending as a single bachelor,” he said. Having poems as a centerpiece of the night, he added, helped ease him back into the group. “You kind of forget that we’re all attracted to each other and want to go home together.”"