Useless Musings
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As the hell year of 2020 was drawing to a close, and the collective anxieties of every able-minded person in America were making their threat whispers to never, ever go away no matter how many times you brushed your teeth, Jeffrey Eugene Hoch (the author of this book) had an idea. He would write a poem - or something approximating one - for every calendar day of the upcoming year of 2021. The main reason he wanted to do this was to keep his artistic conscience from atrophying across another potential year of emotional isolation, illness avoidance, and embarrassing cult stupidity. There was som...
As the hell year of 2020 was drawing to a close, and the collective anxieties of every able-minded person in America were making their threat whispers to never, ever go away no matter how many times you brushed your teeth, Jeffrey Eugene Hoch (the author of this book) had an idea. He would write a poem - or something approximating one - for every calendar day of the upcoming year of 2021. The main reason he wanted to do this was to keep his artistic conscience from atrophying across another potential year of emotional isolation, illness avoidance, and embarrassing cult stupidity. There was some distant hope that something positive would come out of the process, but that something was unknowable and not even particularly hoped for by the author. A year of video games, whiskey, dates, and deli orders later, Useless Musings was "finished." More accurately, it could just no longer be truthfully worked on because 2021 was over. Anyway, the results of this year-long whatever-it-was are documented here for you to read and maybe have some sort of emotional reaction to. These "musings" felt pretty "useless" as I was writing them (Hi, it's me, Jeff), but maybe you'll enjoy them. That would be cool.
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