From Anchorage to Zebulon: In Search of Missed Connections
Musical Missed Connections
dear girl who chomps pretzels so loudly I can barely hear the lecturer I’m paying upwards of $2k to listen to,
knock it off.
learn some manners.
your incessant chomping everyday starting at 9am (seriously? eat a damn breakfast before you come to class) could wake the dead.
One Year Ago: Missed Connection in Seattle, WA: Electricity With The Gas Man
Happy March, everyone! We’re starting the month with a poison pen message from a Pittsburgh poet who is a bit “touch sensitive” in the morning. Having recently started a detox program to eliminate my all-consuming caffeine addiction, I can empathize with that low threshold for all things irritating. Perhaps having a few of the chomper’s pretzels would help – if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em!
Pirate by Erik Mallinson
these missed connection things are fun to look at
and wonder if it’s you being described.
so i thought i’d post one of someone
who is devilishly handsome that i don’t know
you were serving pierogies
at the speakeasy last night,
decked out in a pirates hat and full of warm smiles!
you’re super adorable and rocking the right stuff.
hey oh!
One Year Ago: Missed Connection in Austin, TX: My Dog Almost Peed on Your Dog
Search For Infinity by Chris Halderman
at night the wind whispers your name
the stars dance when i dream of you
an illustration of perfection can be found in your every move
genuine beauty in the simple things you do
negligently stunning
when you left vanity became my sidekick
days in, night out,
i struggle with the meaning of it all
but i am starting to believe some things
are better left unexplored
i guess this is my way of saying i’m still thinking of you
One Year Ago: Missed Connection Salt Lake City: Grapefruit in Sections
So what is more alluring – the hunt or the capture? This is a theme that presents itself somewhat regularly on missed connections – a poet who longs and dreams and (perhaps) makes attempts to pursue another, but remains unclear about what is more appealing to them – the fantasy or the reality. You can travel both for awhile, but at some point you have to choose one.
Through the end of the year I’ll be digging into the Lovelorn Poets missed connections archive and publishing some of the gems you may not have caught the first time around – enjoy!
Memories and Prayersoriginally published on December 2
A small leather holder that was given to me holds my bus pass.
Almost everyday when I grab it,
I say a little prayer (or just a few words)
asking the original owner to look out,
or give peace, or just bless the one who gave it to me.
For whatever has happened or been said,
my heart will not let me stop caring.
I hold close to all memories and things.
Maybe because I want to keep a bit of hope alive,
maybe because I want to hold onto some joyous memories,
or just maybe because I will always care/love.
I’ve held on to this missed connection for some time waiting for the right moment to share it. There’s something incredibly beautiful, emotional, about this message – how an object as simple as a leather holder can hold such meaning for those of us who, like our Pittsburgh poet, just won’t stop caring. Someone has to keep the hope and joy alive, right? As I drive through the streets of Steel City today I’ll be keeping this person in my thoughts.
Memories and PrayersA small leather holder that was given to me holds my bus pass.
Almost everyday when I grab it,
I say a little prayer (or just a few words)
asking the original owner to look out,
or give peace, or just bless the one who gave it to me.
For whatever has happened or been said,
my heart will not let me stop caring.
I hold close to all memories and things.
Maybe because I want to keep a bit of hope alive,
maybe because I want to hold onto some joyous memories,
or just maybe because I will always care/love.
I’ve held on to this missed connection for some time waiting for the right moment to share it. There’s something incredibly beautiful, emotional, about this message – how an object as simple as a leather holder can hold such meaning for those of us who, like our Pittsburgh poet, just won’t stop caring. Someone has to keep the hope and joy alive, right? As I drive through the streets of Steel City today I’ll be keeping this person in my thoughts.